Room Mated: Standalone Reverse Harem Romance

“I don’t have to watch it… I have a pornographic memory.” Mason grinned as he said it.

“That’s not a thing,” I protested.

“Sure it is. And it makes boring classes a lot more interesting.”

Wow. I couldn’t even understand my classes when I was concentrating as hard as I could. Mason apparently had time to spare—and fantasize—during his.

“So, at night… if I hear you, what do I do? Just pretend I don’t?”

“Yes,” Jude said, but Mason spoke up at the same time.

“Or you could do it, too,” he said. “I heard you get up in the middle of the night the other day. It might help you sleep, too.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said dryly. I was pretty sure that he wasn’t thinking about my well-being when he suggested I do it too.

Jude grinned, obviously coming to the same conclusion. “It’ll all work out—you’ll see. We’ll be very discreet.”

That seemed unlikely to me. Mason didn’t exactly seem like a poster child for discretion. But I’d withhold judgment until I saw how things actually played out. One thing was for sure. It would be really interesting when we all went to bed tonight.

We watched a movie after that, a superhero one, and when it was nearing midnight, I was exhausted. The first few days of classes had taken a toll, and it hadn’t even been a full week. I didn’t know how I was going to get through next week. Unless I somehow got a whole lot smarter over the weekend.

Parker fell asleep before the end of the movie, and Jude turned the volume down. God knew the poor guy needed sleep. After the movie was over, Mason and Jude moved onto the balcony to have another beer without disturbing Parker. They asked me to join them, but I was tired.

As I got ready for bed, I had second thoughts. Maybe I should wait them out? Let Jude and Mason go in there and do their thing before I went to bed? But that defeated the whole purpose. The whole idea of me staying here was that I let them be them—and they let me be me. Hiding out until I was sure the coast was clear wasn’t a long-term solution.

So I climbed into bed and arranged my comforter the way I liked it. I was so tired it felt like my body was melting into the mattress below me. Like I was becoming one with the bed.

I was almost asleep when the door opened. Mason came in wearing his black boxers and swung himself up to his bunk. Jude followed, only he climbed the ladder. He was probably being considerate since the latter jostled the bed less than when he hopped right up there.

Should I say goodnight? Or was it better to let them think I was asleep already? It was stupid to overthink it though. It was something most people did, so it wasn’t like it was a big deal. Besides, maybe they wouldn't even do it tonight.

Then I heard a sound coming from Mason’s bed. The slight squeak from the joints of the massive bunk bed. A soft thumping sound. I opened my eyes a fraction of an inch. Usually, Mason slept on his side, facing me. Now, he was on his back. His knees were bent, creating a tent under the covers. A tent where I was pretty sure his hand was.

Shit, I was supposed to be giving him his space and maintaining the polite fiction that nothing was going on. Some roommate I was turning out to be. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to fall asleep, but I could still hear him. His breathing sounded a bit louder now. Involuntarily, I pictured him fisting his cock. In my imagination, it was long and thick and more than a handful. And in my fantasy, he was stroking it hard, rougher than I would’ve attempted.

I was so curious about what Mason was doing that it took me a minute to realize that my bunk had begun shaking, too. Just a quick back and forth, the way it did when Jude shifted positions. But I suspected that wasn’t what he was doing now.

God, was he really stroking his cock just feet away from me? I stared up as if I could see through the slats that supported his mattress. He was right up there, stroking himself. I pictured his cock as being longer than Mason’s but a little thinner… the same way Jude was taller than Mason but his muscles were leaner.

The urge to touch myself hit me hard, and that wasn’t something I normally did. Sure, maybe a time or two a month when I couldn't sleep. Or at night after a hot guy had hit on me at the bar. But it wasn’t something I did regularly. And it wasn’t something I’d ever done with people around. Not even a boyfriend.