A gay story: My Homophobic Christian Roommate
“No,” I said, adjusting my dick as I poured myself coffee, “I don’t want to go to church with you.”
“It’s not about what you want,” Luke said. “It’s about what you need.”
Keeping my back toward him, I rolled my eyes. Sunday mornings were supposed to be for relaxing, not proselytizing. “Well then I need you to fuck off.”
Luke laughed, taking my bluntness for joking. “Everyone can be saved,” he said. “Even you.”
Oh, God. I hated this weekly pitch. I’d rather him just call me a fag and tell me I was going to hell. Then, at least I could call him a bigot and we could go out separate ways. Luke had these big, earnest eyes and an innocent voice. I’d find him cute if he didn’t annoy me so much.
Luke and I had been randomly paired as roommates when we got to college a month ago. I had been from out of state, so I didn’t know anybody, but Luke had grown up right by the university. As far as I could tell, he had to go into in blind because nobody would want to live with him otherwise. I could understand why.
I yawned and sat on the futon, throwing the perfectly-folded blanket to the side. I hoped that would be enough to piss off Luke. I’d rather argue with him than listen to his spiel. Besides the now-discarded blanket, the room was spotless, thanks to Luke’s constant vigilance. Cleanliness was next to Godliness, and Luke loved being Godly.
He pursed his lips, and he looked like he was going to continue. I checked my watch, hurrying to speak before him. “Doesn’t the service start in 10 minutes?” I asked.
He checked his phone, and his eyes opened wide. “Oh, gosh,” he said. “You’re right. We can talk later.”
I rolled my eyes again, this time in full view of Luke. If he saw, he didn’t show it. He slipped on his church shoes, adjusted his polo shirt, and left.
I dipped my coffee and sighed. Thank God for peace and quiet.
The rest of my day was slow and boring, like any good Sunday. I went out and lifted weights, a habit I had picked up while trying to avoid Luke as much as possible. I didn’t have any performance jockstraps, so I wore a bright blue one with the word “FUCK” emblazoned on the crotch. I felt like an idiot the whole time. When I got home and peeled them off, I immediately jumped online and ordered a pair that was more… utilitarian.
Luke didn’t come back until after his potluck lunch, and since I had my headphones on, I was able to filter out almost everything he said.
Eventually, I had to suit up for my shift. I worked a couple of days a week at the 24-hour dining hall across campus, including Sunday nights.
“Working on a Sunday?” Luke asked, watching me put my non-slips on. The sun had just set, and a soft purple glow streamed through the blinds.
“Some of us have jobs,” I said.
“Okay,” Luke said.
Okay? Okay? Luke had never let me leave on a Sunday without dolling out a whole five-paragraph essay on why I shouldn’t work on the Sabbath. Now all I got was a lukewarm affirmative? I didn’t know what the hell was wrong with him, but I didn’t care enough to ask.
I left, and I walked across campus. It was the last week of summer, and cool brushes of wind pushed back the heat. It was a nice walk.
However, the walk wasn’t nice enough for me to not be pissed when I got there and they told me I didn’t have to work. Apparently, there was a last-minute schedule shuffle. On the bright side, I got to go home, but I had walked for nearly twenty minutes for nothing.
I decided to shrug it off, but by the time I got home, I wasn’t in a good mood. I didn’t want to talk to anyone, and I especially didn’t want to talk to Luke.
I silently opened my dorm room door, and I slipped in. The common room was dark, and there were no lights on in either Luke’s or my private rooms. He could have been out at bible study or asleep, but I didn’t want to take the risk. I slipped off my shoes, and I tiptoed to my door.
As I opened the door to my private room, I saw the faint blue glow of a computer screen illuminating Luke’s face. He was in my fucking bed, wearing headphones and watching a movie.
Rage flowed through me. I didn’t even want to live with this homophobic piece of shit, and now he was lying in my bed like god-damned Goldilocks?
I opened my mouth to say something, but then my eyes adjusted. The screen lit up Luke’s face, but in the dark, he was holding his dick with one hand, stroking up and down. Even in the dark, I could see how small he was.
Now I was definitely going to tear into him. I would complain to the dorm admin, get rooms switched, the whole shebang. Hell, I hoped he got kicked out of school. Then, he pulled something up to his face. It was my bright blue “FUCK” jockstrap. Pushing the pheromone-soaked underwear to his nose, Luke inhaled deeply, his eyes fluttering.
I hated to say it, but I felt my cock stir. I cleared my throat and turned on the lights.
Many things happened at once. Luke’s brain, in an effort to cover himself, hide my jockstrap, and close the computer, did almost none of them properly. His computer fell off my bed, rattling against the thin carpe and landing screen-up. My underwear, which he tried to throw behind him, caught on the bedpost, hanging off the corner of the bed like they were being displayed. Luke had committed to trying to cover himself however, and he fought with his skinny jeans, trying to pull them up his bare legs. After an embarrassingly long time, he finally got his pants up. He panted and tried to catch his breath.
“So,” I said, “how’s your night been?”
“You weren’t supposed to be off for another four hours,” he said.
“And you weren’t supposed to jerk off in my bed while sniffing my fucking jockstrap,” I said, “but it sure looks like this is an expectation-defying night for both of us.”
Luke turned bright red. “I wasn’t–”
“Yes,” I said, “you were.”
“I didn’t mean to–”
“Yes,” I said, “you did.”
Luke held his tongue.
I glanced down at the computer on the ground. The screen played porn. Gay porn. Big-dicked, cum-loving, kinky gay porn. I raised my eyebrows.
“I’m not gay!” Luke blurted out.
“Oh, we are way past that,” I said, grabbing the hem of my shirt and pulling it over my head. My muscles rippled, and I saw Luke’s eyes glaze over as they traveled down my body.
“I’m not…” he trailed off before rallying himself again. “I’m not gay. I was just doing… research.”
I undid my buckle and calmly pulled my belt from its loops, rolling it and placing it on the shelf. “You were researching how a jockstrap smells after being worn?” I asked.
“I just thought that if I could see things from your perspective…” Luke said.
“Then you could bring me into the fold?” I asked. I unbuttoned my pants and slid them down, revealing my second jockstrap of the day. This one was bright red and said “SUCK” on the pouch.
Luke nodded, and he looked away from me, turning his gaze toward the wall.
I slid my socks off, and I approached Luke. He looked so small, sitting in my bed trying to hide his doe eyes. “Okay,” I said. “You want to bring me to church? Blow me.”
Luke looked up at me as his eyes widened.