Chapter 5
Bode
My grandmother cooked as if she were preparing for a natural disaster, as if we were putting away enough food to last for years. As delicious as the food was, I hoped she could find a hobby that involved less meddling in my life.
I kicked my shoes off in the entryway and hauled the cloth grocery bags through the great room. The aspens outside rustled in the breeze, the last of their golden leaves reminding me that October was approaching. We were likely only a few weeks away from the first snow.
I didn’t have much time left to figure out what the fuck I was going to do about that. Winter in the Southern Hemisphere could be avoided. Winter right outside my door could not.
My first stop was the kitchen, because I needed to put the food away before I forgot about it and left it out for too long.
Lucky was at the breakfast bar, and the urge to flee into my room and avoid her had lessened. I was getting used to her. She was cool, in a geeky, unintentionally funny sort of way. And I didn’t hate it.
She was gorgeous, too. I paused for a moment, taking in the way her glossy dark hair moved with her, glinting in the sun.
Lucky’s beauty didn’t hit you all at once.
You noticed it bit by bit; her glossy hair, the intelligence in her big brown eyes, and those soft, lush lips that were currently pursed in concentration.
I cleared my throat, but she didn’t look up.
She stayed hunched forward over her iPad, both elbows on the counter.
She moved her stylus in short, deliberate strokes, paused, moved again.
When she combed a lock of hair behind her ear, I saw she was wearing noise-cancelling earbuds.
Whatever was on the screen had her full attention.
Probably engineering stuff. Diagrams or flow charts. Lucky was the sort of person who would appreciate a good flow chart. Not wanting to interrupt her process, I cut around the island toward the fridge, putting the containers away. When I closed it and turned back around, I could see her screen.
It wasn’t intentional, but once I saw a little, I wanted to see more. Because Lucky was drawing — not flow charts, but art.
The drawing was detailed, arresting, and objectively filthy. It was a peek into her inner world, and I would never have expected someone so closed-off to have this dirty of a mind. And I knew I shouldn’t have looked, but I couldn’t stop myself from staring, enthralled by the image on the screen.
The image featured a dark-haired woman in a leather harness, on her knees behind a large man, a pink strap-on thrusting inside him, one hand gripping his hip.
The man was big through the shoulders, back arched, head tipped up and back, mouth open around a second man’s cock.
Both men’s faces were rendered with a slack-jawed, eyes-gone-soft appearance of pleasure so intense that their brains no longer functioned properly.
Pre-cum caught the light in careful lines.
My body responded in a hot rush of blood flow that went straight to my cock. After months of emotional numbness so complete that I hadn’t experienced sexual urges much at all, Lucky’s art cracked me wide open, so fast it took my breath away.
I’d been standing there for an inappropriate amount of time, so I turned back to the fridge and made a show of rearranging the containers before pulling a small one out and setting it in front of her.
Lucky went still. One beat of silence, I turned my head, and I watched the exact sequence of her expression: confusion, recognition, and a flush that moved up her neck and into her face. She swiped out of the drawing app and flipped the iPad face-down.
She cleared her throat and pulled out one of her wireless earbuds, fiddling with it between her fingers. “I didn’t know you were home.”
“Just got back. A few seconds ago.” Definitely wasn’t standing here like a creep watching you draw. I pulled out a pair of chopsticks and set it down next to the container I’d set in front of her. “My grandma gave me lunch for you. Getting work done?”
“Um. Yeah, some outerwear flow charts. I figured out a more efficient production workflow.” That was a blatant lie if I’d ever heard one.
Her eyes darted to the stairs, like she was preparing her exit.
“Um, sorry to invade the kitchen. Wade got called in for an emergency surgery, so I thought I was home alone.”
“It’s fine. You’re paying rent here, too. You don’t need to hide in your room.” I opened the fridge and waved at the containers. “Help yourself. My grandmother packed an obscene amount of food.”
Obscene wasn’t the right word. It brought back everything I’d seen on her screen.
“Tell her thanks,” she said with a little smile. “Wade has been raving about the rice stuff, what’s it called?”
“Gyudon. She made it with chicken since she wasn’t sure if you ate beef.” I picked up the empty bags and folded them, which took approximately two seconds and resolved nothing. Lucky was watching me from the stool with the expression of someone waiting for the second shoe.
“I’ll, uh.” I gestured toward the general direction of my bedroom. “I’ve got — there’s a thing.”
There was not a thing. Unless you counted my hard-on.
I crossed the great room with the deliberate non-urgency of a man who was not fleeing the scene of a crime. Because why would I flee if I hadn’t seen her filthy drawings? I didn’t speed up until I was out of sight, halfway to my room.
Once I was behind my closed door, I leaned against it, heart pounding harder than it had in months.
Then I pulled out my phone, swiped away an Instagram video of Mack and Ashton riding powder before I could see any details that might distract me from chasing this feeling, and did a quick search for the name that had been on the top of her screen: DeviDraws.
Several images came up, which led me to an Instagram featuring some of her less risqué art, and to a Patreon, where she was hiding the real filth.
And holy shit. I threw myself into my bed, and my pants were down and off, and my hand wrapped around my aching cock before I could think about whether or not it was wrong to jerk off to your roommate’s erotic art.
I scrolled through DeviDraws’ profile with one hand while the other worked my cock in slow, deliberate strokes.
The free content was good, and I clicked on a comic, stroking myself as I scrolled through the pages, mostly build-up between her dominant female character and the two guys who were clearly willing to do anything to please their captivating domme.
But before I could get too far, I hit the paywall. The real filth required a credit card. That made me smile. Lucky was brilliant.
I clicked on the link to join without thinking twice. I needed to see more. She had three tiers, and I was too frantic to consider either of the lower ones. I wanted it all; unrestricted access to Lucky’s dirty mind.
Besides, it was kind to support my roommate like this, right? I clicked through the payment process with increasing urgency, choosing to hide my identity and picking an anonymous username, as my cock leaked into my palm. This was ridiculous.
This was necessary.
The page loaded, and opened up to access to the next page, and my cock throbbed in my hand as I scrolled, landing on an image that made my vision go hazy around the edges.
The domme was clearly based on Lucky. She had the same dark hair, same sharp eyes, same full lips.
And she was standing over a broad-shouldered, handsome, blonde man on his hands and knees.
The resemblance couldn’t be coincidental.
She was drawing herself doing filthy things to a man who looked a hell of a lot like Wade.
I scrolled down, my grip tightening as the panels progressed.
This was the series I’d seen in the kitchen, but we hadn’t reached the pegging scene yet.
In this panel, the cartoon version of Lucky was holding a purple butt plug, working into the man beneath her, stroking his cock with her free hand.
His face was turned toward the viewer, mouth open, eyes half-lidded with pleasure.
His cock was rock-hard, dripping pre-cum onto the sheets beneath him, rendered in careful detail that made my breath catch.
I scrolled again as I moved my hand faster, matching the rhythm of the scene as I scrolled.
The panel showed the man on his back, legs spread wide, the plug still visible in his hole as the woman lowered herself down onto his cock, her head thrown back in ecstasy as his big cock stuffed her full.
What would it be like to be stuffed with a toy and fucked by a woman like Lucky?
It was rendered with the same careful attention to detail as everything else, so well-drawn that I could imagine the bounce and sway of her breasts as she moved, the pressure inside his asshole as the toy shifted.
I worked my hand faster on my cock, matching the rhythm I imagined from the panels, as the drawings showed the domme reach her orgasm.
The image showed her pulling off him, stroking him to release, with thick ropes of cum splattering across his stomach and chest, his cock pulsing in her grip, his face slack with pleasure so complete it was like he’d left his body.
The woman’s expression was satisfied, pleased with herself, a small smile playing at her lips.
In the final slide, she was positioning her pussy over his face, demanding that he lick her pussy clean, his cum glistening on his muscled body, cock laying soft across his hip.
I could picture Lucky like that. I wondered what it was like to play with toys like hers.
A moan slipped from my lips as I worked my hand frantically, my hips lifting off the bed as I chased the sensation building at the base of my spine. The numbness that had settled over me like a blanket for so long was gone, burned away by the filthy, gorgeous art my roommate had created.
My orgasm was more intense than anything I’d felt in months, my body jerking as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through me.
Cum spilled over my fist and onto my stomach in thick ropes while I bit down on my other hand to keep from making noise that would carry through the house.
It was almost painful after so much time spent feeling nothing at all.
I lay there afterward, my phone on the pillow beside me, my hand still wrapped around my softening cock, breathing hard and staring at the ceiling. For the first time in longer than I could remember, I felt something beyond the strange fog that had become my default state since the Olympics.
My heart stopped. Was the timing too obvious? Would Lucky realize her new subscriber was me?