Roommate's Gravity
Arrival
Tim doesn't remember what the sun looked like that day, only how the air inside the dorm building clung to my skin. Everything felt slightly off. The walls were too white, the air too dry, the hallway too quiet -- except for the dull thump of a bassline echoing from upstairs.
"Room 214. Mine.", the young man told himself.
The door was already cracked open.
He nudged it with his foot, suitcase wheels rattling behind him. The scent hit first -- warm and earthy, edged with something sweet. Not dirty. Not clean, either. Lived-in.
Inside, one side of the room was already claimed: bed in disarray, a pair of heavy black sneakers by the footboard, and a duffel bag slouched on the floor like it had been dropped mid-momentum. A speaker on the dresser thumped slow trap beats. Above the bed, a poster of LeBron in mid-air, framed by nothing but tape.
Then he saw him.
He was leaning back in the chair by the window, shirtless, headphones loose around his neck. His skin was deep brown, smooth. His chest was broad and solid, like something carved from a different mold than Tim's. He looked up with a slow nod.
"You Tim?"
"Yeah," Tim said, setting my suitcase down with too much care. His voice sounded like it belonged to someone younger.
"I'm Sidney."
He stood to shake Tim's hand, which looked tiny in comparison. His grip was firm, casual. Confident in the way people are when they never needed to second-guess themselves.
They made small talk. He was from Charlotte. Football scholarship. Business major. Tim told him he was undecided. Sounded like an apology.
He nodded. "Cool."
That was it. No need to impress. No posturing. Sidney was one of those people who didn't have to announce himself. He just filled the room.
That night, as Tim unpacked, he noticed how little Sidney had brought. Just clothes. Shoes. A couple colognes. A watch. Everything he needed fit into a single bag, like he already knew he wouldn't have to carry anything else -- not awkwardness, not uncertainty, not the invisible weight Tim felt pressing down on me already.
The Girls
It started two nights later. A knock on the door around eleven. Then giggling.
Tim opened it without thinking.
There were two girls in skimpy t-shirts and tight jeans, their cheeks red from the night air and maybe from laughing too much. They looked him up and down, eyes flickering over his pajama pants, before one of them said, "Sid here?"
Tim stepped aside without answering.
They walked in like they'd been there before. One dropped onto Sidney's bed, the other leaned against his dresser. They didn't even glance at Tim's side of the room. Just kept talking and laughing and whispering as Sidney pulled on a tank top and greeted them like old friends.
Their names were Madison and Rachel.
Tim didn't know if they noticed him sitting at his desk, pretending to be busy on his laptop, earbuds in but no music playing. He could hear everything.
The flirting was light at first. Then touchy. Then bold. At some point, Madison took off her t-shirt. Her skin glowing around nothing but a bra. The way she looked so comfortable half naked on Sidney's bed -- like she belonged there -- made something in Tim's chest tighten.
He considered leaving, but somehow couldn't, and he kept waiting someone to ask him for privacy, but never happened, so he turned in his chair to look mostly away of Sidney's bed. But over his silent earbuds he could clearly understand some of the noises: his black roommate deep breaths as one of the girls -- maybe both of them? -- feasted on his cock.
Tim had only witnessed that kind of thing -- frequently -- in porn, but he had never expected to happen in real life. In
his
real life. Not even close.
"It is just a matter of enduring a few minutes more. How much can a guy last with two hotties blowing him?", he thought, trying to calm his arousal down.
They left an hour and a half later.
Sidney didn't walk them out. He just lay back with his arms behind his head and closed his eyes, like nothing about the whole thing was remarkable.
Meanwhile, Tim was wide awake -- staring at the ceiling, listening to the echo of their laughter disappearing down the hall. He could still smell perfume. Still hear the
snap
of a bra unclipping. He felt like furniture. Like something in the background.
That's when he started watching Sidney. Not in a creepy way. Just... carefully. Studying. He wanted to know
what
made people orbit him like that. How he moved. How he spoke. How he seemed so utterly unbothered.
Tim didn't hate him.
But he hated how small he felt beside him.
Perspectives
Rachel and Madison were already tipsy by the time we got to the dorm. Rachel'd been flirting with that guy from her Chem class all night, but Madison was bored -- until she remembered Sidney.
Madison had only met him once, at that orientation party where he wore that fitted shirt like it was sewn onto his body. He barely spoke that night, but when he did, it was in this low, calm voice that made you want to lean in. Madison don't even think he noticed her watching him, which only made it worse.
So yeah, maybe Madison suggested we stop by. Just to "say hi."
The door opened before we knocked twice. One of those skinny white guy in pajama pants answered. He looked surprised -- like the Rachel and her had caught him doing something embarrassing, even though he wasn't. He just kind of blinked at us and stepped aside.
Rachel grinned at him. Madison didn't bother. She was already scanning the room.
Sidney was there, shirtless -- of course. Leaning against the desk like some catalog model who'd wandered into college by accident. He smiled a little when he saw them, but not like
he
was excited. Like
they
were.
Madison dropped onto his bed without asking. Rachel leaned on the dresser, biting her nails and giggling. Sidney pulled on a tank top, which only made it worse -- the way it stretched over his chest, how you could still see the muscles flex beneath it.
They talked about nothing. Laughed at stupid jokes. Rachel whispered something to Madison, and she couldn't stop staring at Sidney's arms as he reached for a water bottle. She felt warm -- not just from the wine, but deep down. Between her thighs. The more he ignored it, the worse it got. Like wanting to crawl onto his lap --over that inviting bulge-- just to make him
react
.
The roommate -- Tom, Madison believed? -- sat at his desk like he was studying, but his screen was black. Earbuds in. Not moving. Not blinking. Just
there
. At first, it was kind of funny, like they were putting on a show and he was the awkward little audience. But the longer he stayed silent, the more uncomfortable it felt. Like he was hoping they'd invite him in, or notice him, or
anything
.
They didn't. Gosh! Madison could see him twitching his legs, like he was trying to hide an erection -- that would surely be unnoticeable, anyway.
Madison took off her t-hirt when the room got hot, letting the air touch her skin. Tossed it onto Sidney's bed. She saw his eyes flicker, just once, and she swore her whole body flushed from that one glance. Later, when the three of them were tangled in his sheets, the girls's hands fondling his huge hard-on, Madison's legs hooked around his waist. While she pressed her mouth to his neck, she left something behind. A whisper of lace under the pillow -- a private thank you. Something he'd find later, or not. It didn't matter.
Rachel and Madison were beyond horny and begged him to fuck them, but the black bloke stood cool even as he was rock hard. Maybe it was because of the presence of his weird roommate; maybe it was just a way to playing with the female burning desire for him.
He finally let them suck his cock, though, taking turns. They were quite desperate, but he lasted more than an hour, finally cumming in Rachel's mouth. "The greedy bitch swallowed the whole load", Madison realized, dejectedly. She had to push her aside and just got to clean the rest while his amazing cock slowly softened.
