In His Head, In My Bed
I never thought I'd find myself intrigued by Daniel Edwards, my quiet, chubby Puerto Rican roommate. He kept to himself, spent late nights gaming, and always had a sly, shy grin when we crossed paths. But one night, curiosity cracked through his reserved demeanor. It started when I found his phone, left carelessly unlocked on the counter. The gallery app was open - pictures of me. Unmistakable shots taken in the apartment: reading on the couch, working out in the living room. At first, I was stunned. Then, intrigued. "Daniel," I said later that evening, holding his phone up. "Care to explain?" His face turned crimson, his words stuttering as he avoided my gaze. "I... I don't know what got into me. You're, uh, fascinating, okay? I - never mind." His confession came tumbling out, and I could see the tension weighing on him. Straight, he'd always said. But there was a hesitation in his voice, a vulnerability that made me lean in closer. "Curious?" I asked, my voice low. His nod was barely perceptible. That night, we crossed a boundary neither of us had expected. What began as curiosity ignited something deeper, something electric. Daniel couldn't hide how much he enjoyed it. Neither could I.
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