The Roommates: Part 5

What comes after?

Jonas starts testing the waters. A towel left hanging just a bit longer in the bathroom. A shirt slipped off in the middle of their conversation. Subtle. Calculated. Like a slow dance of fire and gasoline.

Rafael? He's spiraling. Trying to keep his composure, trying not to look too long. Trying not to let his hands shake when Jonas leans too close. Because every inch Jonas gives feels like a cruel tease.

And at night, when Jonas is asleep?

Rafael stares at the ceiling.

Mouth dry. Chest aching.

Because now… he's not just obsessed.

He's afraid Jonas knows.

But he doesn't know that Jonas is starting to get off on the power of it. That he likes the tension, the unspoken war of bodies and control.

Jonas was alone in the room again. Rafael had just said he was heading out, tossing a casual "Don't wait up" over his shoulder. Jonas only gave a distracted nod from his bed, already sorting his laundry. The door clicked shut. He assumed Rafael was gone.

He pulled over the small pile of clothes, sorting through shirts and pants, humming softly under his breath. Then he paused, his fingers brushing against something… damp.

His breath hitched.

It was one of his briefs. But not just any, that one. The same one he remembered forgetting to throw in the hamper after the last week's rush. Now it sat here, soaked through with something that wasn't his.

His hand trembled slightly. His eyes scanned it, the fabric heavy, stained, unmistakably marked.

Rafael.

Jonas's throat went dry. For a moment, his mind warred with what his body was already deciding. His heart thudded hard, blood rushing loud in his ears. It had to be what he suspected. The scent clung to the cotton, unmistakable, musky. Raw.

He swallowed hard and slowly sat down on the edge of his bed, eyes never leaving the brief.

Curiosity... no, hunger, took over.

He brought it closer. His nose grazed the still-warm fabric. The second he inhaled, something in him cracked wide open. Heat rushed straight through him, pooling low and deep. His hands, once unsure, now acted on instinct.

He pressed the fabric against his face, breathing in Rafael's lingering scent. It was intoxicating. Maddening. Every moan Rafael must've made burned into his imagination now, echoing in his head like wildfire.

His fingers dipped lower, giving in to the ache.

And from the barely cracked bathroom door, hidden in the dim light and steam-fogged glass, Rafael stood frozen, watching, breathing hard, lips parted. He hadn't left. He hadn't gone anywhere.

And now, he knew Jonas wanted him just as much.

Maybe more.

Jonas's breath came ragged now, chest rising and falling like waves crashing against a stormy shore. The scent had already fused into his brain, burned under his skin. His hands moved with a rhythm that matched the pulsing heat in his core, fueled by every image he'd never dared to acknowledge until now.

He thought of Rafael, naked from the shower, droplets of water trailing down his chest, disappearing under the towel wrapped far too low. He thought of the way Rafael always smelled after gym, that warm, salt-tinged musk that lingered just long enough to haunt him. He remembered the curve of Rafael's back, how his brows furrowed when he focused on reading, and the small, unintentional sounds he made while stretching in the morning.

Every suppressed thought burst to the surface now, dragging him deeper into the fire. He pressed the damp fabric harder against his face, his mouth brushing against the spot where it all stained, groaning quietly as his hand kept working beneath his waistband. He was losing himself. Drowning. And he didn't want saving.

But what he didn't know, what he couldn't know, was that Rafael stood behind the slightly ajar bathroom door, his entire body tensed, lips parted in shock and desire. He hadn't planned to watch. He only wanted to see Jonas' reaction. But now... he couldn't look away.

The sight of Jonas completely lost in him, touched by the very evidence of Rafael's need, was pushing Rafael to his own breaking point. His hand tightened over the doorknob. His legs begged to move, to storm out, to cross the space and claim what had clearly always been his.

Jonas was on the edge. His hand trembled with the weight of lust and guilt, breath shallow, skin flushed. The scent on the brief tangled with his senses like a drug, and he was too far gone to think. Just a little more. Just one----

The sudden creak of the bathroom door cut through the silence like a blade.

His eyes shot open.

There stood Rafael.

Not a word spoken. Not a breath wasted.

Jonas froze, every inch of his body paralyzed, caught in the act, his flushed face a perfect portrait of shame and pleasure. "R-Rafael----"

But Rafael had already moved.

Slow, deliberate steps.

Like a predator drawn to heat.

He knelt between Jonas' trembling thighs, eyes dark with hunger and something far deeper, something primal. His hands slid along Jonas' hips, gripping firm but reverent, and Jonas gasped.

"I shouldn't----" Jonas tried to speak, tried to resist.

But Rafael leaned in, the scent of Jonas mixed with his own sin staining the air between them. "You wanted this," he whispered against Jonas' skin. "I saw it. Every day. Every damn night."

And then his mouth descended.