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There were three rules that were established when Scott moved in with Wallace.
- Scott is not allowed in the kitchen until his ability to cook without making a mess was proven.
- If Scott makes a mess, he’s to clean it up. (This rule was clearly not heavily enforced).
- The second drawer in Wallace’s nightstand was strictly off-limits.
This list was pinned smack-dab in the middle of the bulletin board hanging in their entryway. The third rule was emphasized with yellow highlighting scribbled over the words and obnoxious red arrows pointing towards it. Scott had asked about it before, but never again, as Wallace had just leveled him with narrowed eyes and a grim expression. The supposed severity of this third rule had only succeeded in fueling his curiosity, now kindling uncomfortably in the pit of his stomach.
What if his (admittedly hot) roommate was secretly a serial killer and was hiding a body in that drawer…what if Scott was currently assisting a murderer?
Out of curiosity, he had sniffed around the drawer a few times investigatively, but thankfully, there was no stench of rot to be traced. So maybe the situation wasn’t as dire as he’d initially thought, but it was still strange. Wallace was never this secretive about anything, even leaving the door unlocked while he was busy banging one of his hookups—not even a preemptive text warning Scott of the loud moaning sounding from inside.
Curiosity aside, he was currently sitting on the armchair tucked in the corner of their apartment, kicking his feet idly, his fingers rapidly pressed buttons on the controller he held. His tongue stuck out of the corner of his mouth as he concentrated, nearly killing the boss of this level and—
A sad tune played from the console’s speakers, ‘GAME OVER’ blinking on the screen in bright red letters.
With a frustrated huff he got up, set the controller on top of the console, and then powered it off. Playing video games was a great pastime—until he got frustrated and quit. His days always seemed to be vexatiously dull when Wallace was still out working. He didn’t even know where he worked, which he supposed was for the best, since if he did, he’d probably be calling from their landline to bug him every five seconds.
Scott paced the perimeter of the one room apartment (two rooms, if you counted the bathroom) trying to track down something to do. He eyed the newly installed bookshelf (owned by Wallace) with a few books leaning against one another on the shelves. There seemed to be some semblance of organization by genre, which made the collection look even more pathetic, as by no means did Wallace have a library’s worth of books to store.
Curiously, he snagged a novel off the second shelf, ignoring the title and cover image and only skimming the back. Something, something about aliens and a human…seemed captivating enough.
He pursed his lips and sat down on the armchair sat next to the mattress. Flipping through the pages he landed somewhere in the middle, eyes scouring the page and…
His eyes widened; the phrases ‘slid into his entrance’ and ‘laying eggs’ should not be in the same paragraph. His hand flew towards the nightstand’s top drawer to grab ahold of his reading glasses to take a closer look. He really had no use for them, considering the fact that he took little time to indulge in the art of literature, but he wore them sometimes since they made Wallace have peculiar little reactions. He wasn’t sure why; he supposed that was another one of his secrets.
It was weird, though, because the more he rummaged around for his glasses case, the more his hands were closing around unfamiliar items. Getting frustrated, he swiveled in his seat with a frown and furrowed brows. He was about to throw this nightstand if he couldn’t find his glasses.
This expression of anger, though, quickly morphed into something akin to shock. It wasn’t just a mild shock either, this was the kind of surprise he thought only cartoon characters felt, with a fully dropped jaw and comically widened eyes.
His hand was currently wrapped around what was at least a ten-inch dildo, which was nestled among many other items that were presumably used during sex.
With his face slowly turning a deep shade of red, he slid the drawer closed before ashamedly getting up and placing the book back in its original spot. He wasn’t sure he wanted to touch anything of Wallace’s anymore after seeing…that. He now had a sneaking suspicion that the books were not read while being held with both hands, if you caught his drift. Now the vivid image of Wallace getting off to freaky, oviposition alien erotica was etched into his brain. Fantastic.
It’s not like it was bad to own sex toys but…for some reason he never envisioned Wallace owning them. He had always pictured him as a man who used the resources readily available to him (e.g. his hands, his fingers, or his dick), but now that he had seen a drawer filled with Wallace’s pleasure-inducing belongings, it left him stunned. Were those just for him, for his hookups, or both? It couldn’t just be for him, because what would one guy do with several feet of rope that required no assistance? Scott realized that the more he thought about it, the more that he began to resemble the faceless men in his mental images of Wallace using that drawer full of items during his hookups. He pointedly decided to stop thinking about the ordeal and return to normal. He would not be telling Wallace about his at-home escapades today, and would instead settle for a dismissive wave when asked about them.
Scott was assuredly a man of secrets.
Except he wasn’t, because as soon as the doorknob began to jiggle, indicating that Wallace was struggling to open it, the confession was sitting at the tip of his tongue. He urged it back into the back of his throat, favoring his own life over being honest about what happened. He didn’t want to imagine the hell his roommate would unleash upon him after he found out that Scott had broken one of only three rules for living with him.
Soon, Wallace was entering the apartment, mumbling something with a frustrated-sounding tone, nearly slamming the door closed behind him. He looked up, saw Scott’s expression of repressed horror, and immediately looked away again.
It wasn’t before he had gotten into the kitchen to set down his keys that he looked back at Scott with an arched eyebrow, asking, “Are you okay, guy?”
Scott felt like he was going to combust. This was why he was never trusted with secrets, he reminded himself, as he couldn’t even keep his own.
With all the self-restraint and forced normalcy he could muster, he let out a strained, “Yep!”
Wallace looked unimpressed. “You look like you’re about to shit your pants, Scott. I don’t believe you.”
Scott couldn’t take it anymore, he had to tell him. He couldn’t live with himself if he didn’t and lied.
“I saw the sex stuff in your drawer!” He blurted out, quickly slapping a hand over his mouth as if that could reverse the damage he had just done.
Now both of Wallace’s eyebrows were rising towards his hairline, mouth forming into a small ‘o’ shape before his expression regained neutrality. He cleared his throat. “Well, I knew this would happen eventually,” he sighed, pacing toward the mattress and turning around to sit down on it.
Scott stared at him, slightly shaken by the lack of anger in Wallace’s response. Maybe he should’ve expected it—his roommate never really did let his emotions overtake him. However, with the clear severity of the rules (especially this one in particular), Scott would have presumed there would be some kind of outlash.
He just kept staring before shaking his head—as if to clear his brain fog—and asking, “What do you mean?”
The dark-haired leveled him with an incredulous look. “I mean, when I set a rule, you tend to ignore it anyway,” he said, gesturing toward their almost irreparable living situation. Scott winced, shying away at the mention of his messy habits. Wallace gave him a small grin. “I’m just surprised you went without breaking this rule for so long.”
Scott couldn’t really defend himself. His behavior regarding the mystery drawer was akin to that of a child shaking their Christmas presents to try and guess what was in them.
“Why do you even own all of that?” Scott asked, still casting weary glances toward the drawer. When he had glimpsed the contents there were tons of different things filling the compartment. He’d only really identified a few items, his curiosity regarding the remaining ones growing by the second.
Wallace looked at him as if he were stupid. “Why do you think, guy?”
“Ugh! I meant, like, how did you even figure out you were into all of that…there was a lot in there.”
“Don’t kink shame me,” Wallace replied jokingly before continuing more seriously, “I had some partners and hookups that weren’t vanilla and wanted certain stuff done to them, or me. Slowly, my collection grew into…that,” He motioned towards the drawer.
At this point, Scott’s eyes were burning a hole into the wood. Wallace could only look at him inquisitively. “You can look through it, you know; now that you know it’s there.”
Scott snapped his head back around to face the black-haired, face flushing. He was about to tell Wallace that that wasn’t what he had wanted, but…then he'd be lying.
With hesitance, he crept towards the drawer, tugging it open by the handle and peering inside. There was the brightly colored dildo he’d accidentally grabbed earlier, some rope he’d already seen, a butt plug and…was that a collar?
He grasped the item, pulling it out to inspect it. It was black and made of leather, some rhinestones adorning the surface. “Did you put this in here by accident?”
“What do you mean?”
Scott gave him a dubious look. “Like…did you used to have a pet, or something?”
Wallace let out a laugh, putting Scott on the defensive. “W—What?! It was a genuine question!”
He brought a hand up to wipe a tear from his eye. “I mean, I guess you could say that,” he snickered, “But, no, I didn’t. That collar is for a person—how vanilla are you, guy?”
Scott looked back between his roommate and the item in his hands. An image entered his head at the description of its usage; Scott sat at Wallace’s feet with the collar tightened around his neck, and—
He shook his head to cut that thought short. He was sure his face was glowing red at this point, the color only deepening when Wallace came over beside him, rifling through the drawer before pulling out two items.
Scott’s eyes widened by a fraction as he registered what they were. A headband with dog ears attached and a butt plug with a tail dangling off the end.
Wallace chuckled at the reaction, and that image that had come into his head returned, only this time he was wearing the newfound equipment. He really needed to stop envisioning these things; an ache slowly growing in-between his thighs.
“Scott, you’re staring.”
The redhead shook his head and readjusted; a feeble attempt at lessening the pressure gradually building. “Well, you’re the one who just shoved a butt plug in my face!”
His roommate snickered, murmuring an ingenuine apology. He moved to put the items back up, before stopping and…why was he looking at Scott like that?
Scott then came to the realization that his hand had unconsciously clasped around Wallace’s forearm before he could drop everything back into the drawer. The black-haired had an eyebrow raised at him, confusion slowly morphing into amusement. “What’s up?”
His gaze flicked back and forth between Wallace and the objects that he was holding. “Can you, uh, keep those out…?” He asked, immediately flushing from the embarrassment of asking.
Wallace smirked, withdrawing the ears and tail and setting them on the ground, shutting the drawer before starting to walk away. The lack of a snide remark was surprising.
“W—Wait!” Scott wishes he could just shut up; only digging the hole deeper the more he talks.
Wallace looked back over his shoulder at him with renewed interest, head cocking to the side as a way of silently asking ‘what?’
“If this was something I did want to try, could you help?”
Surprise flickered across the latter’s face, quickly being replaced by something closer to mirth. Scott knew he was in trouble.
“Wow, didn’t figure you were the type,” He hummed, nearing where Scott was sitting on the floor. He used a hand to tilt his chin up. “What kinda help are you wanting?”
Scott swallowed nervously, frozen in place. “Like, uhh, you know…”
Wallace looked unimpressed with his truly unremarkable wording. “Are you saying you want to have sex with me, Scott?”
A shudder coursed through his body and he couldn’t help but avert his gaze. There was no need to put it so bluntly…
“Y—Yeah, I guess you could say that.”
The other chuckled, removing his hand from where it had been tucked under the ginger’s chin. “That could be arranged,” He grinned, looking expectantly at Scott.
He quickly felt another wave of nervousness wash over him, beginning to shift uncomfortably when Wallace started walking away. The black-haired turned back around, gazing at him curiously.
Scott looked from side to side, the attention only heightening his nerves.
He watched as a realization dawned on Wallace. “You mean right now?” He asked, the sentence’s inflection reflecting mild shock.
Scott looked off to the side. Wallace smirked, reapproaching the redhead still poised on the floor. Sitting down in front of him, he cupped one side of his face with his hand, leaning in to press their lips together.
He let out a small noise of surprise, eliciting a chuckle from the man opposite of him. Doing his best to set his nerves aside, he leaned into the contact, hands nervously coming to rest on his roommate's waist. God, they’d literally done nothing and Scott could already feel himself getting hard; this was pathetic.
As the kiss deepened and hands wandered, he felt one of those hands wander out to the side. Curiously, Scott opened one eye by a fraction, only to see fingers clasp around leather just before Wallace parted from the kiss. Scott’s breath hitched as those fingers worked effortlessly to tighten the material around his throat, finally dropping to his lap once he’d secured the buckle.
“That feel okay, baby?” Wallace asked, hand lifting again to wedge two fingers between Scott’s throat and the soft leather. He swallowed nervously at the contact and the pet name.
”Y—Yeah, that’s fine! I’m fine,” He bit out nervously, hands that were previously pressed against his roommate now balled into fists in his lap.
The other cocked his head to the side. “You sure you’re okay, Scott?”
“Yeah! Just, uh, nervous,” Scott replied, nodding enthusiastically.
Wallace gave him a small, reassuring grin. “Well, just let me know if I do anything you don’t like.”
Scott grinned back, shoulders relaxing a little before being pulled into another kiss, hands now moving to clutch at Wallace’s waist again. He let out a small moan when he felt digits tangle in his hair and give a small, experimental tug. Lips curled up against his at the sound.
After a few more moments of kissing ensued, Wallace separated again. “Get on the bed,” He instructed, likely not meaning to sound authoritative, but he certainly did. It wasn’t as if Scott was complaining, though, as the tone had sent a bolt of heat straight to his dick. He was quick to scramble onto the mattress, sitting on the edge and fidgeting with his hands. Curiously, he tried to peer over and around Wallace to see what he was rummaging through the drawer for; he wasn’t successful.
The flush that covered his face when Wallace did turn around with the items in hand was of incomparable color. When he turned around, a different pair of fake dog ears and tail were in hand.
“Figured these would fit you better,” He explained, coming to crouch in front of his roommate to situate the headband-bound ears on top of his head. When he backed up to examine, Scott couldn’t help but dip his head down in embarrassment, shying away from the attention. He could hear Wallace chuckle above him.
“No need to be so embarrassed, guy, I think you look cute,” He reassured, one hand nestling in the hair on top of Scott’s head to administer a gesture that could only be described as a pet. He couldn’t help but lean into the touch.
As Wallace took his hand away with a grin, Scott couldn’t help but let his eyes wander to the other item in his hand: a tail with a plug attached to the end. That would have to go in him—he couldn’t tell if the resulting shiver that coursed through his body was from nervousness or excitement.
His gawking must not have been noticed (or it was ignored, which was likely considering that with how observant Wallace is, not much goes unnoticed), as Wallace lowered himself onto him, his mouth latching onto the skin of his collarbone. A whine fell from his lips at the sensation, it being nothing short of pleasurable.
“You know, the noises you make are pretty dog-like, too,” Wallace mumbled against his neck, the comment sending a strange kind of feeling through him. He decided to just whine again in response, earning him another laugh huffed against the skin below the collar.
Eventually, he felt hands snake under the hem of his shirt, feeling up his sides before one especially curious hand brushed over a nipple. Scott shuddered and moaned into the kiss, which must’ve encouraged Wallace to apply more pressure with the original hand and begin to tweak his other nipple with the second. He was straining against his zipper by now—almost painfully so. Before long, his shirt was getting tugged off and over his head, getting tossed somewhere to the side before Wallace shoved him the rest of the way down onto the bed. Scott let out a shocked squeak before a body was draped over his; the action almost killed him, as now he could feel where Wallace’s equally prominent erection was pressed against his thigh. Instinctively, he bucked his hips in an attempt to gain some inkling of friction, only for them to be harshly pinned against the mattress.
“Wallace, please—“
“I don’t think pets can talk,” He chided, a finger dipping beneath the material of the collar—a reminder.
A small, guttural sound leapt from his throat. Oh, he was such a freak for liking this—maybe he couldn’t judge whatever unsettling erotica was on Wallace’s shelf.
“Good boy,” Wallace praised, hand trailing down to his zipper, glancing up at him for permission. Scott has never nodded quicker in his life.
With that, his pants were being worked down his legs, his hard-on now even more evident through the fabric of his boxers. He saw Wallace’s pupils dilate almost imperceptibly before he stood up, eliciting a whimper at the loss of contact.
“Relax, I just need to grab something else,” He murmured, almost as if he’d startle Scott if he spoke too loudly.
After rummaging in the infamous drawer, Wallace produced a bottle of lube and a condom packet; something akin to disappointment tugged in his chest at the appearance of the latter. He ignored that feeling for now. Before settling back down, he saw him grab something else—Scott didn’t get a good look.
As Wallace reapproached, his eyes seemed glued to Scott’s boxers, the attention only causing his dick to twitch. When he knelt down, his fingers hooked under his waistband, getting quick and silent permission before tugging down the article.
Scott doesn’t think he’s ever seen an expression like this on his roommate: hunger mixed with undeniable lust. In a daze, he watched as Wallace wrapped his fingers around Scott’s length, giving a few experimental tugs and using his thumb to smear the leaking pre-cum around the head. A small whimper fell from Scott’s mouth as he worked his hand, hips bucking into his fist. This seemed to snap Wallace from his haze, gaze flicking to meet Scott’s as his other hand pinned his hip in a bruising grip. Scott squeaked out a moan at the sudden pain; a reaction to file away and examine later.
Wallace grinned up at him. “You’re so vocal, y’know? It’s cute,” he praised. Scott, for all his acclaimed masculinity, couldn’t help the downright shameful noise that left him at being called cute in this context. It wasn’t the first time Wallace had given him such a compliment, but it was different when he had Scott spread out in front of him, in a scene that was certainly sinful, but not cute—at least to most. Apparently, Wallace just found him downright amusing, which the idea of being just a thing of amusement sent a whole other kind of white-hot arousal rushing down to his dick.
Eventually, Wallace’s hand ceased in its gyrations when Scott’s noises began to pick up in pitch, figuring he must be getting sort of close.
With swift movements, he squirted some lube onto his fingers before moving one to tease at Scott’s entrance. He gasped, clenching around nothing. Wallace hummed amusedly, then turning and grabbing the mystery item from earlier: the leash.
He clipped it onto the ring on the collar before giving a small tug, ripping a grunt from the ginger and causing him to lurch forward slightly.
“That feel good, guy?” He asked, clearly enjoying himself—if the smile on the face and the tent in his pants was any indication. Scott almost opened his mouth to answer verbally before remembering his previous scolding and dutifully nodded.
Wallace still had that grin plastered on his face as he began to press a finger into his hole, hand still wrapped around the leash; a limiting grip but not tight enough to tug him forward any more.
Scott whined at the intrusion, tensing before hands came to smooth through his hair.
“Relax, puppy, it’s not gonna feel good otherwise,” He muttered out, finger thrusting in and out and curling against his walls at certain intervals.
The pet name elicited a whine that rumbled through his chest. As he got more and more used to the finger prodding at his insides, another slipped in, with more discomfort following suit. Wallace whispered praises and reassurances when Scott started to tense too much, which aided in his pleasure and drew out some rather humiliating noises. Wallace seemed to enjoy them, though, so he didn’t take too much shame.
As time passed, Scott started to wonder if he should be feeling more than this before—
“Fuck!”
Wallace’s smug grin made Scott feel as though he was missing out on a secret, which he couldn’t necessarily ponder on, as the immense pleasure bubbled up again, his back arching towards the feeling.
“Not supposed to talk, remember?” Wallace tutted, punctuating his sentence with a particularly sharp jab of his fingers against that same spot.
A few seconds later, he hummed and withdrew his fingers, frowning a bit at the mess of lube left behind. Wordlessly, he pressed his fingertips to the seam of Scott’s lips.
When Scott only looked at him confusedly, he raised an eyebrow and elaborated, “You made a mess, Scott, clean it.”
His eyes widened by a fraction, maintaining eye contact and waiting for Wallace to say it was a joke. He was quick to realize that he was serious, however, as the press of his fingers against Scott’s mouth became more insistent.
Tentatively, he took the digits in his mouth. The knowledge that they’d just been inside him and are now inside his mouth should’ve grossed him out, but instead only served to turn him on further. He took care in lapping at the two fingers in his mouth, humming contentedly as he felt hands begin to card through his already-mussed hair.
Scott gagged as the fingers pressed suddenly into the back of his throat before they were pulled out, a string of saliva connecting them to his lower lip. He tracked the movement of Wallace retracting his fingers, only readjusting his gaze when he noticed the hunger in Wallace’s eyes as he watched him. The tension was palpable and he was about to ask Wallace what was wrong before he was being tugged into a kiss by the leash. He moaned into the kiss, hands coming to clasp over his shoulders, mouth opening into a gasp when he felt something press against his hole.
He let out a sound somewhere between a whimper and a groan, wriggling against the sensation, panting when he was able to discern what the object was. Once Wallace broke from the kiss, he looked down and couldn’t stifle the guttural noise he made when he saw the tail connected to the plug inside him.
“Fuck—Scott you’re so good,” Wallace gritted out, clearly aroused. With this, he muttered something incoherent, tugging off his pants before shuffling to where he could lean against the wall behind the bed. He patted his thigh and gave the leash a small tug while saying, “C’mere.”
Scott hesitantly crawled over, feeling a bit humiliated at the fact that he’d instinctively gone over on his hands and knees. Before he seated himself, he motioned towards Wallace’s boxers.
He looked towards the motion and smiled. “Oh, you want those off, guy?” Wallace asked, being met with an enthusiastic nod from Scott. With a grin he pulled them off of his legs, Scott staring at his cock—he found himself wanting to duck down and take the length in his mouth, but he figured Wallace already had an idea on what he wanted them to do. There was always next time, anyway.
Once he’d shaken out of his daze, he sat down to straddle Wallace’s lap, gasping when their lengths brushed together.
“You that sensitive, huh?” Wallace asked mockingly before taking both of their erections in one hand, giving an experimental stroke.
Scott proceeded to bury his head in the other’s shoulder, hips bucking up into his fist. With how worked up he was, he knew he wouldn’t last long, what with how he could hear Wallace murmuring praises in his ear. It was hard to make out the words, but a few key phrases and words would make Scott press open mouthed kisses to his neck.
“Okay, you—fuck—can only talk if you’re telling me you’re close,” Wallace grunted out, hand only speeding up.
Scott dug his nails into Wallace’s back at a particularly firm flick of his wrist. Every so often, Wallace’s grip on the leash would tighten unconsciously, pressing him unconsciously further into the skin of his neck. Scott wasn’t complaining—the arousal he got when the leash got pulled a little too tight and nearly choked him was something to unpack later.
“Pluh—Please—Wallace, I’m so close,” He finally whined out. He’d tried his best to stop himself from cumming yet, as he didn’t want this to end, but he’d lost.
“You can cum, baby,” He sighed, giving them both a couple more tugs before both of them finished. Scott let out a loud moan as he came, shivering against the other as they both rode out their orgasms, panting once they had. He whimpered as pleasure slowly turned into oversensitivity, Wallace quick to loosen his grasp.
As the two gathered their bearings, something in Scott wondered what would come next. He hoped this didn’t just become another strangely homoerotic encounter.
As if to shake him from his nervous thoughts, lips were pressed to the top of his head. Scott couldn’t help the smile that fought his way onto his face.
“You’re being so cute right now, but I really want to clean us up,” Wallace murmured, a hand coming up to card through Scott’s hair. He huffed, partially out of protest, partially from embarrassment gained by the comment. With a great amount of hesitation, he pried himself from the warmth of Wallace’s body.
After the more tedious and uncomfortable cleaning up, he let himself zone out on Wallace’s features as he undid the collar, then let out a contented hum when Wallace cupped his face in his hands and pulled him in for a kiss.
“I think I love you,” Scott blurted when they separated. He hoped his words hadn’t ruined whatever—this is. Maybe Wallace secretly wanted something noncommittal and, well, that wasn’t ideal, but Scott could adapt.
Despite his worries, Wallace grinned back. “Wow, you only think?”
“No! I just meant—“
“Relax, I know what you meant,” Wallace laughed out, finally getting the collar in his hands and placing it back in the drawer. Looking back at the other, he grinned.
“I think I love you too, Scott.”