Archive of Our Own ^beta

Eric smelled like a perfume-filled beer bottle. 

“Can you back up?” Marius asked, nose wrinkling. 

Eric didn’t listen. He had what Marius’s mother called selective hearing . Purposely deaf to things he wanted to ignore, which were usually Marius’s boundaries.

“I will. In a sec. Just. Repeat what you just said.” He bit his lip like it was the only way he could contain himself from laughing in Marius’s face. 

Marius’s frown deepened. “You’re making fun of me,” he accused.

“I’m not!” Eric protested, wearing the widest, most unconvincing grin. When he saw Marius remained unmoved, he backed up a little, sitting cross-legged on the other end of Marius’s bed. “I won’t tell anyone,” he added softly. 

His roommate was an enigma. Marius had wanted to dorm with Octavian, but he’d been not-so-gently let down. “I can’t think of any other way to say this,” he’d said. “You scare away the hoes.”

Marius had told him not to speak about women that way. Octavian just sighed and gestured, like he was saying see what I mean? Marius did not. 

Bereft of options and desperate to finish the housing process, he decided to throw his hat in the ring and opt for a random roommate. He’d crossed his fingers and hoped for someone sensible and studious, who wouldn’t kick him out every weekend for hookups or keep him up past midnight screaming at his XBox. 

Eric didn’t do either, but he was no less irritating. Perplexing. Strange. Flirting with every guy and girl at all the parties he somehow secured invitations to, but bringing home no one. Insisting the gaudy, golden eyeshadow he wore was for his own sake, but pouting when Marius didn’t compliment it. Offering Marius hits of his joint, hand on his knee, smile in his deep, brown eyes. Not sensible or studious at all. 

“I don’t believe you,” he replied, and Eric sighed. He flopped onto his back, head next to Marius’s knee. 

Marius swallowed. He opened up his laptop. He could already feel it growing warm in his lap. “I have to study,” he said. He figured it was kinder than get off my bed. 

Eric didn’t take the hint. He tilted his head so that he was looking at Marius upside down. He had gold glitter dusted on his cheekbones, remnants from tonight’s party. Marius wondered how long it took to wipe off. Last month, he’d let Eric take him by the chin and apply matte lipstick to his lips with a q-tip. Eric smoothed Vaseline over his lower lip with his thumb. It stained his mouth red for a week. 

“You’ve never watched it? Not even once?” Eric asked. 

Marius’s eyes flicked away from Eric and to his laptop screen. He opened a new tab and logged in to his Quizlet account. Searching for his Chem 101 flashcards, he said, “No.”

Eric was incredulous. “You aren’t even curious?”

Marius was aware of the wealth of explicit sexual imagery online. He thought it wise to avoid opening that can of worms. It had done him well up until now, when his caution apparently made him miss vital social cues from his peers. Case in point: ten minutes ago, when he texted Eric asking what was taking him so long in the laundry room. He replied with an indecipherable i’m stuck stepbro , and immediately called when Marius texted back, I am not your stepbrother? 

Hence this needless conversation about pornography on a perfectly calm and quiet Saturday night. Marius supposed this was the price you paid for worrying after your roommate. It was a mistake he couldn’t seem to stop himself from making. 

“No,” Marius repeated. 

What is the term for the study of chemical substances derived from plants and animals? “Biochemistry,” he muttered. He flipped the flashcard. Correct! Quizlet gleefully told him. He straightened, pleased.

He could still feel Eric staring at him. 

“Do you even…you know…”

Marius’s cheeks reddened. Eric didn’t need to elaborate, not because the meaning was clear to Marius, but because he had zero experience in that area. It didn’t matter what specifically Eric was referring to; Marius had done none of it. 

Marius should have kicked him off the bed. He should have kept his eyes glued to his flashcards. Instead, he risked a glance at Eric and found wide, brown eyes lined by golden eyeliner to match his cheekbones. It popped against his dark skin. 

He cleared his throat and shook his head. Eric shimmied next to him, sandwiched in between Marius and the wall. Their legs pressed together. Marius swore he could feel Eric’s heart beating. He’d always hated these twin XL beds. 

“Give me your laptop,” Eric said while snatching his laptop, probably because he knew Marius would refuse, and why wouldn’t he? He was a rational human being who studied in his free time. He wasn’t a freewheeling, partying pretty boy who smelled like beer and pot and flowers and went around stealing laptops to show porn to their roommates. 

With that thought, reality sunk its claws into Marius. Oh. Oh, no. No. No, this cannot be happening. “Give it back,” he said helplessly, watching Eric type the letter P .

“It’s fine,” Eric said, waving a hand carelessly. It brushed against Marius’s flaming cheek. “I’m just gonna show you, like, the stereotypical stuff. The bad acting. Not the actual sex.”

What is porn about, if not…that? Marius thought. 

Eric scrolled through Pornhub’s main page, mumbling, “Where’s all the weird stepsibling shit?” 

Marius felt his dignity wither up and die. He caught a glimpse of what he swore was a foot-long penis and fixed his gaze on the spidery cracks in the cinder block wall, trying not to think about the onslaught of ass cracks he was about to be subject to. 

“Okay,” Eric said, “here we go.”

Against all his good judgment, Marius turned. On-screen, a yoga-pants-clad girl was on her hands and knees, ass sticking out of the washing machine. “Help!” she wailed. “I’m stuck!”

“She’s clearly not stuck,” Marius muttered. 

“I was,” Eric said.

Something in his voice told Marius he was joking, but Marius felt obligated to ask, “Were you hurt?” anyway. Someone should. 

Eric tossed aside his misplaced care with a snort. “No, Marius,” he said. “I wasn’t hurt.”

A guy wearing gray sweatpants sauntered into the laundry room, squeezing his obvious erection. In the corner of his eye, Marius watched Eric lick his lips. “I’ll help you,” he said slyly. 

The girl wiggled her ass. “Thank you so much, stepbro.”

The guy hooked his thumbs into his waistband and pulled, revealing —

Eric slammed the laptop shut. “You get the gist,” he said quickly. He tried to scoot away from Marius and nearly fell off the bed. 

Marius saw the sudden shift in demeanor as another strange thing about Eric, in a restless, bottomless sea of strange things. “I understand the joke,” he said slowly, “but I can’t possibly understand why you’d watch something like that.”

Eric shifted, swinging his left leg back onto the bed. Marius felt his hip pressed against his own. It was an uncomfortable way to sit, hip-to-hip, arm-to-arm. It would make more sense to have his arm around Eric, pulling him in instead of pushing him out. 

Marius cleared his throat. This was what he got for watching porn. 

“I don’t watch stuff like that ,” Eric said defensively. 

What do you watch? Something much worse, probably. Marius made himself say, “Good,” instead. 

Suddenly, Marius couldn’t breathe. Whatever Eric watched, he must touch himself while watching it. That was the point of porn. Self-pleasure. From what Marius knew of Eric, he was well-acquainted with the concept. Marius told himself he didn’t have the time.

“God,” Eric said, laughing a little, “I must be drunker than I thought. I can’t believe I’m watching porn with my roommate. You’re gonna hate me tomorrow morning.”

He still didn’t move. Marius asked, “How drunk are you?”

“A few beers.”

Marius didn’t drink. Eric dragged him out to a frat party their first weekend of school and playfully rolled his eyes when Marius insisted on exclusively drinking water and holding Eric’s plastic cups of beer. “People could put anything in these!” he’d exclaimed. 

Eric had winked, eyeshadow flashing against the strobe lights, just another fixture of the party. “My hero,” he’d said. 

Marius wondered who held his drinks tonight. 

“I can’t imagine,” he said, “that it gets any better than that.”

Eric’s thumb toyed with the laptop’s cover. He still hadn’t given it back, and Marius didn’t ask. “Can’t you?” he asked.

“No,” Marius said truthfully. “I can’t.”

Eric slowly opened the laptop, like he was waiting for Marius to grab his arm, or else slam it shut on his thumb. Marius did neither. He looked away while Eric typed something into the search bar. 

Eric nudged his arm wordlessly. Marius turned. On the screen were two men, one black, one white, kissing each other deeply. No washing machines. No stepsiblings. 

No women, either. Marius side-eyed Eric. He was breathing heavily, sitting uncharacteristically still.

Factually, Marius knew Eric was into men. The first time they’d went out drinking with Octavian, he’d pulled him to the side and asked, “Living with a gay dude doesn’t freak you out?”

Marius corrected him. “He’s bisexual.”

“Yeah, but he’s still gay . What if he tries to fuck you or something?”

The comment left him uneasy, with a shifting, unfamiliar feeling in his belly. He’d never imagined himself on the receiving end. “He won’t,” he’d said. “I’m not his type.”

Octavian had snorted at the comment. He never went out with them again. 

The men in the video seemed to know each other’s bodies deeply, knew exactly where to kiss and touch. Nothing like that over-exaggerated stepsibling scene. The white guy, the larger of the two, trailed kisses down his partner’s neck, whispering sweet nothings into his ear, making him throw his head back in surprised laughter. He had a wide smile like Eric’s. 

“His name’s the Cobra,” Eric whispered. “The one with the braids.”

Marius snorted. 

Eric smiled, surprised. “Even you’re not immune to a good dick joke,” he said, nudging him with his shoulder. 

The Cobra laid a gentle hand on his partner’s head as he settled in between his legs, gazing up at him with adoration. “They look like yours,” Marius said quietly. “The braids.”

Eric fiddled with the end of a braid. “Yeah?”

Marius didn’t respond. He dug his nails into his palms. He shouldn’t have said anything to begin with. 

The Cobra’s eyes fluttered shut. His partner bobbed his head up and down, squeezing his thighs and moaning, like giving pleasure was a pleasure onto itself. Marius hadn’t thought about it from that angle before, had scarcely thought about it at all, but he supposed — well, with a man like that —

“Marius,” Eric said. 

He was hard. 

“Sorry,” Marius whispered. 

“It’s ok.”

“I can make it go away.”

Eric swallowed. He slowly moved his hand to Marius’s leg, like he was comforting a skittish cat. “You don’t have to,” he said, words heavy with a meaning that Marius couldn’t discern.

Marius squeezed his eyes shut. “I can,” he said. In situations like these — well, in situations similar to these, because he’d never imagined he’d find himself in a situation like this  — he recited the alphabet backwards. If that failed, he pictured his father shouting at him, raising his fist and calling him a disappointment. That always did the trick. 

He didn’t want to admit the latter to Eric. “Z, Y, X, W, uh — V —”

“Marius.”

“U, T, S, R…P —” His erection wouldn’t go away. He realized belatedly that he forgot Q. Eric’s palm felt warm through his flannel pajama pants. 

“ Marius ,” Eric repeated. 

His hands must feel soft, too. Eric moisturized every day, Marius knew. He got his hand cream from Bath & Body Works, the one in the mall fifteen minutes outside campus. Marius drove them there after Shakespeare 101 a couple times a week, sometimes just to try the samples. Eric got the same cream every time, the kind that smelled like lavender and eucalyptus. 

Eric put his hand on Marius’s erection. Not squeezing or insisting, just lying there, a question. Marius forgot the entire alphabet. 

“You can look,” Eric said. “If you want to. It’s porn. It won’t bite.”

“People get addicted to it.”

“That doesn’t mean that you will.”

Marius opened his eyes. The Cobra was on all fours, cheek pressed against the pillow, ass in the air, smirk on his face. He had a taut, toned body, with swirling, gold tattoos encircling his biceps and thighs. 

Eric wanted tattoos, Marius remembered. Grabbed Marius’s arm and pointed at the tattoo shop in town whenever they passed by it on their way to some bar. “Don’t tell my mom,” he’d always said. Marius promised he wouldn’t.

Now that he thought about it, the Cobra looked a lot like Eric, or an older version of him, at least. Marius could see him looking like that when he was more mature, less wild, less inclined to go out to parties where no one would hold his drink. 

Eric gave his cock a tentative, gentle squeeze. Marius gasped like he’d been punched. 

“Are you —” Eric started.

“You’re drunk,” Marius managed to choke out.

Eric hummed in agreement. “Might not even remember this tomorrow,” he said. 

Marius doubted that. He was no connoisseur, but he was fairly certain a few beers weren’t enough to make a person black out. 

Still, he found himself nodding, like his body was two steps ahead of his brain.

Eric pulled down his pants, reaching for his cock through his underwear. Marius stayed still, made a concentrated effort not to jump and squirm at every touch. 

He couldn’t bear to look at Eric, so he focused on the Cobra instead. His partner was easing himself into him, hands firm on his hips, fucking him slowly and lovingly. “Right where I want you,” he growled in a deep, throaty voice. The Cobra moaned into the pillow. 

Right where I want you . In his line of sight, always. On his bed. Touching his — touching his —

Eric pumped his cock slowly, like he was savoring every twitch and throb. “You’re so big,” he whispered. Marius could feel his breath on his ear, a precursor to his lips. If Eric put his lips on his ear, let his tongue flick out —

Marius’s hips jerked upward. He stifled a moan through gritted teeth. His hands twisted his bedspread.

Eric ran a finger over the slit, coating it with precum, running it down the shaft. Marius nearly sobbed. “You’ve — you’ve done this,” he said, scarcely believing that he had it in him to speak, shocked at the sound of his own voice, its raspiness and desperation. “You know what you’re doing. You’ve…done this before.”

Eric continued to work his cock, stroking up and down, squeezing the tip. “So what if I have?” he challenged. 

With who? Marius wanted to shout. Boys from his high school drama club? Closeted frat brothers in grimy bathrooms? “Don’t,” he said. 

Eric spit into his palm and continued stroking. Marius bit his lip, eyes rolling backward. “‘Don’t’?” Eric repeated. Marius could hear the smirk in his voice. 

“You’re mine,” the Cobra’s partner said on-screen. 

“You’re mine ,” the Cobra fired back, making his partner hiss in pleasure. 

Porn was disgusting, obviously. Morally wrong. But — Marius thought it must be nice. To belong to someone. “Don’t,” he said again, practically pleading. He’ll forget in the morning , he reassured himself. 

Eric sighed, not without some affection. “Okay, Marius,” he said. “Whatever you say.”

He could feel pressure building in his cock, warmth flowing through his entire body. “I — I —”

Eric was so close to him. Marius tuned out the porn and the noises outside of their dorm, focusing on Eric’s breath, Eric’s touch, Eric . “Are you gonna come?” Eric asked softly. 

Marius nodded quickly. He had to be. There was no other —

Eric leaned over and put his mouth on his cock, sucking on the tip, squeezing the shaft. Marius jerked upwards, cock pulsing, cumming down his throat. “ Ah — !” 

Eric’s eyes fluttered shut as he swallowed his cum with a satisfied moan. He pulled back after a moment, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. 

Marius stared, face flushed. His whole body was flushed. 

He quickly pulled up his pants. “Thanks,” he said without meeting Eric’s eyes. 

Eric huffed a laugh. “Yeah, man,” he said. “Don’t mention it.”

Marius closed the laptop and risked a glance at Eric’s lap. He was hard, still wearing those skinny leather pants he wore to parties that left nothing to the imagination, the ones Octavian called Marius gay for complimenting. 

He looked away quickly. Eric cleared his throat. “I’m gonna shower,” Eric said. 

Marius knew what that was code for. He wondered if he’d think about the Cobra, or maybe even Marius himself, fantasizing about having his cock in his mouth, like giving Marius a blowjob was the single most erotic experience of his life. 

(If that even counted as a blowjob. He wouldn’t know).

“Okay,” Marius said. 

Was it impolite not to reciprocate? Should he make the offer, at least? 

“Um,” Marius said. 

He couldn’t peel his eyes away from Eric’s bulge. He felt like a lecher. A dirty little thrill snaked down his spine. Eric had touched him. Eric’s mouth had been on him. 

“Don’t sweat it, big guy,” Eric said. He clapped his shoulder like they’d just finished playing a round of Mario Kart. 

Big . He’d called him big , earlier, when he. When they. Am I really…?  

He forced himself to look away, down at his lap, at his hands. He tried to say see you in a bit and be done with it, and ended up blurting out, “I’ve never kissed anyone.”

Eric stared. Marius was still hunched over, looking downwards. 

“Shit,” Eric said. “Seriously?”

“I don’t need you making fun of me.”

“No, I’m not, it’s just — I find it hard to believe.”

“Stop joking around.”

“Fuck, Marius, I’m not — I’m not joking . You’re hot, okay?”

Marius curled in on himself, pressed up against the wall, as far away from Eric and the rest of the world as possible. He wanted to disappear. Not easy for a guy of 6’3”. It was never easy. 

The bed shifted with Eric’s weight. “Look at me,” he said.

Marius couldn’t. He wouldn’t.

“I’m sorry,” Eric said softly. He was so kind. Much kinder than what Marius felt he deserved. A long-empty gap in Marius’s chest ached. 

“Stop,” Marius said. He didn’t know what he was referring to. 

Eric touched his cheek. Marius could smell his hand cream. Flowers . Bath & Body Works. Tuesdays and Thursdays at noon after Shakespeare. 

Marius leaned into the touch, mouth parted. Eric leaned forward. The bed creaked. Marius lifted his head without opening his eyes. Eric’s breath still smelled like beer. He won’t remember this, in the morning . He’d told himself so many lies. 

The kiss was fleeting. A brief touch to the lips, then nothing. A dream you half-remembered upon waking. A thirst-induced hallucination in the desert. Marius was trembling. 

“I’m gonna take a shower,” Eric said. His forehead was still pressed against Marius’s. 

Marius was a coward. “Okay,” he repeated.