A/N: My roommate just told me to stop growing my beard because if I get any more handsome, he's gonna have to fuck me, but what he doesn't know is that I want that.
_
I watched as Scott ran his fingers through his gorgeous blonde hair, squinting his eyes at me. Was he mad? What did I do? Frowning, I looked back at the closing bathroom door, thinking about what I might have done wrong before he spoke up, a finger pointing at my face.
"That beard," he just said, his groggy morning voice hot as fuck to say the least. To say I might have fantasized about my roommate on a few occasions was a huge understatement, Scott Hoying was by far the hottest guy in the whole school, and for some reason whoever was in charge decided I was worthy enough to be his roommate. So don't blame me.
My fingers touched my scruff, it wasn't even a beard, just your typical I-didn't-shave-cause-I'm-lazy-and-no-one-will-see-me-like-this-scruff, besides it was Saturday and I couldn't always have my mind worrying about my very generous Italian genes.
"What about it?" I questioned, genuinely curious. What did he have against my scruff?
"It's too hot."
I shook my head, not understanding what he was talking about.
"What? What do you mean, it's too hot?"
"Mitchy..." He began, my heart melting at the nickname that has been object to my fantasies so many times. "If you get any more handsome..." He came up to me, locking his ocean blue eyes with mine, not blinking. "I'm gonna have to fuck you."
And with that, he left me alone, biting my lip, contemplating whether or not to follow him and tell him that that's exactly what I've always wanted but eventually my brain turned back on and I shook my head to myself, only now realizing how stupid my thoughts had been.
As if. He was probably just playing with me anyways. He knows I haven't gotten lucky in months, and I'm not exactly trying to hide my attraction to him, so it's not a surprise. Even if I did, everyone would want to get in his pants, I mean, look at him. But if he was serious...
So Scott wanted me to shave... or did he? I was confused as to what he wanted, did he want me to shave so he could resist the temptation, or did he want me to give in and not shave so we could have a good night? I finally just shrugged to myself. I wasn't going to shave, at least not now. I had to study for the exam next week, and if he wanted to fuck me because I was too hot, as he put it, then so be it. We all know by now that I wouldn't have a problem with that.
It was late at night when Scott came back from the library where he usually spent his days studying.
"Hey, Scott," I just said, as always. He turned on the light - I hadn't realized how dark it had gotten with my desklight on - and stopped right in the doorway.
"Oh, fuck..." I just heard him mutter. I frowned, looking up from my books now. There was an obvious bulge in his lower region, and in that moment I remembered his words from this morning and the fact that I still hadn't shaved. But I decided to play along. Hey, maybe he would keep his promise.
"What's wrong?" I asked, suppressing a smile, playing innocent. I wanted to play with him, I wanted him desperate, even though I knew I would end up being the desperate one.
"You know what?" He said decisively, walking up to me. "Fuck it."
My heart started racing, was he going to finally do it? After those two years that I've been his roommate, after countless dreams that I've had of this exact situation, was it finally going to become reality? He spun my chair around, bending over with his hands on the armrests, his face just inches from mine. I could smell his Gucci Guilty, feel his breath on my lips when he spoke, see how his eyes darkened with every second passing.
