Wood: A True Lover's Story

He used a dirty T-shirt to wipe himself off and hurried around his bedroom to get ready for work. Any longer and he’d be late for sure. He wrapped his towel around his waist and threw one over his shoulder as he walked out of his bedroom, only to still hear the damn shower going. Goddamnit. He definitely couldn’t afford to be late and docked pay if Wood was going to be running up the water bill like this.

Trent banged on the flimsy door as if he were the police. If Wood was beating off, then he shouldn’t’ve taken so long. “Wood! You been in there forever! I gotta go to work, man, what the hell? Get out!”

Wood

“Ugh. Annoying little brat,” Wood grumbled, ducking his head under the hot spray one last time before he shut the taps off.

“New rule, Wood!” Trent blared through the door.

God, it’s too early for this. Wood already didn’t feel like going in to mop floors and clean public restrooms at his job, now he had to listen to Trent’s mouth until he left out the door.

“No more than ten minutes in the bathroom in the morning! You know I have to be to work at seven, you inconsiderate assh—”

Wood yanked the door open and got so close in Trent’s face that he was dripping water on his cheeks as he glared down at him. “Good morning to you too, sunshine.”

“Get out the way,” Trent said, wiping his face, his voice low and throaty as he looked everywhere but at him. Wood watched Trent’s nostrils flare as he shoved him in his chest to move him, but Wood didn’t budge.

“It’s a little early in the morning to have your hands on me, Trent. I suggest you move ’em.” Wood made sure to keep his tone relaxed even though he could feel the excitement in his dick as it started to press against his towel.

Trent dropped his hands. “Then move.” He growled in that way that turned Wood on instead of intimidated him.

“You got room.” Wood nodded toward the open bathroom door. “Go on in.”

Trent huffed in exasperation as he slowly inched around Wood’s body that was blocking most of the entrance. Wood made sure to watch every expression of desire and longing flash in Trent’s eyes when he brushed his own erection against Wood’s hip. “You’re such an ass.”

“You know you like it.” Wood turned around and propped one arm on top of the door. “How long you gonna keep playing with me, Trent?”

“This long,” Trent sneered and slammed the door in his face.

Despite how hard Trent was laughing, Wood held his in and went and got dressed for the day. He made sure to hurry because he wanted Trent to continue to lift his spirits before he went in. As the days ticked by, Wood became ultra-aware of the anniversary date approaching. And it wasn’t one that he was going to celebrate with champagne and flowers or a night out on the town. No. It was Wood’s redemption day coming, and even though it’d been seventeen years, he still wasn’t ready.

Wood dropped his backpack beside his chair at the table and made himself a strong cup of coffee and a bowl of Frosted Flakes. And it wasn’t an accident that he was using Trent’s bowl. Wood heard upbeat, jazzy music coming from Trent’s room while he got ready for work, and he realized his roommate must be in a good mood. It was interesting that Wood was recognizing those signs already. He was reading a text from his sponsor, Brody, when he heard Trent come out. He typed a quick response to him that he’d be at a meeting soon and hit Send just as Trent’s hot chest landed against his back.

“Did you fix that for me? Because it’s in my bowl,” Trent asked in that damn throaty tenor, tickling the base of Wood’s neck. He noticed the more he and Trent teased each other, the braver his touching got.

Wood turned his head for a better smell, his beard scratching wonderfully along Trent’s cheek. Perhaps realizing what he was doing, Trent got off him and went to the refrigerator to fix his lunch for work. “Don’t forget today is your trash day.”

“I’ve been living here all of five minutes.” Wood frowned playfully.

“Yep. Just long enough to catch trash day. I took it out last week, today is your week,” Trent said conversationally. “And don’t forget the recycle bin.”

Wood got up and put his bowl in the sink. He continued to bump into Trent unnecessarily while he fixed himself another cup of coffee. “You’ve gotten pretty comfortable telling me what to do.”

“I think you like me telling you what to do,” Trent countered.

Wood didn’t respond because it was true. Instead he asked, “What was that music you were playing last night?”