Blake Hart
patreon
Roomies in Arms - Part 16
🕑 Added 2025-07-23 20:00:06 +0000 UTCEveryone in this story is 18+
I had hardly spoken to Lex since the incident. I was still mortified — not because it had grossed me out, but because it hadn’t. Not even close. If anything, it had been too much. Too intense. Too real.
So when Lex stepped out of his room like he was gearing up to talk, I panicked.
I did something reckless.
I grabbed my phone and called Brady while Lex just stood there, clearly on the verge of saying something.
“Hey Brady,” I said, too loudly. “Was thinking maybe you wanted to come over for a little get-together?”
Brady didn’t need convincing. He probably wondered why I — British, repressed, haunted-doll energy and all — was the one inviting him, the walking frat-boy fever dream, over for drinks. But I needed the distraction. Something to drown out the silence before Lex said something I wasn’t ready to hear.
Poor Lex. He looked at me again, like he was about to speak. I didn’t let him.
“Well,” I cut in, “I’m off to shower. See you later?”
I didn’t wait for a response. I turned and walked straight to the bathroom, closing the door behind me.
◆◆◆
I lingered in the shower too long, trying to steam the nerves off. When I finally emerged—skin pink, towel slung around my waist like a toga—I found the living room already buzzing. Jax and Nick were there, feet on the coffee table, music thumping low from someone’s speaker. There was a bottle on the table, wide and square. My bottle.
“Wait, is that—” I blinked. “My eighty-year-old Glenrothes?”
Nick grinned. “You said you needed a distraction. Consider us helping.”
“That bottle is older than three of us combined.”
“Exactly,” said Jax, already pouring. “Liquid legacy.”
I decided to just go along with it. The whiskey burned, naturally. Like heritage down the throat.
By the third shot, I wasn’t so much walking as floating.
When Brady arrived, he did so with the full cast of chaos in tow—Daniel, Cameron, Asher in a hoodie. The apartment instantly turned into a pub crawl inside a microwave.
Lex drifted into the kitchen at some point, brows furrowed. “You alright, Seb?”
“I’m fantastic,” I grinned, arms wide, spinning in a circle. “Buzzed and unbothered.”
“You might want to pace yourself,” he said carefully. “That’s a lot of whiskey.”
“Buzzkill,” I muttered, grabbing a half-melted ice pop from the freezer like it was the height of rebellion.
Brady appeared behind me like a devil on my shoulder. “Alright, who wants to kick things up a notch?”
He produced a zip-lock bag from his back pocket with the kind of drama normally reserved for stage magicians or drug dealers in HBO shows.
“Molly,” he whispered, like it was a shared secret between us and the universe.
Lex stepped forward. “He’s already drunk, Brady.”
But I’d already stuck my tongue out like a child at a sweet shop.
“Sebastian—” Lex warned.
Too late. The tablet hit my tongue like mint and regret.
“Let’s dance,” I said, throwing my shirt somewhere into the abyss.
It started with dancing.
Well—me dancing and then twerking.
I don’t know what possessed me (Molly, obviously), but suddenly I was shirtless and grinding against the corner of the sofa, doing my best approximation of what I imagined club people did when they didn’t care who was watching. Jax cheered like I’d scored a goal. Daniel wolf-whistled. Nick shouted something about body rolls and moral decay. I twerked. Badly.
Some part of me knew I’d regret this.
The rest of me? Absolutely vibing.
Lex was perched on the kitchen counter, arms folded, watching with the kind of unreadable expression that made my stomach flutter and twist. I wasn’t sure if he was judging or turned on—or maybe both.
Brady slid in behind me, matching my rhythm far too well. “This haunted doll’s got moves!”
“Careful,” I said, breathless, “you might wake my demons.”
Cameron passed me a another whiskey shot with a wink. “Seems they are already awakened.”
Asher was somehow mid-conversation and fully flushed, sipping something dry and acting like the debauchery unfolding wasn’t happening directly beside him.
Brady started stripping, of course. Someone threw a sock like a victory flag. Then Jax took his shirt off to “even the vibe.” And then Lex… got off the counter.
He didn’t say anything. Just stepped into the circle of music and chaos. His hoodie came off with a fluid shrug, bare chest catching the low kitchen light, and suddenly the room felt thicker.
He moved toward me like he’d been waiting for an invitation.
“You’re ridiculous,” he said under his breath.
“I’m liberated,” I corrected, hips still rolling.
His fingers grazed my waist. “Sure you are.”
I reached out—because apparently, Molly turns me bold—and dragged him closer by the waistband of his jeans. The crowd whooped. I laughed. And then Lex kissed me.
I kissed him back — passionate, wild, and completely high.
“Blow him! Blow him! Blow him!” everyone chanted, so I did.
I dropped to my knees, unleashed his rock-hard willy — yes, willy — and just smirked up at Lex as I pressed my tongue to the head, licking and playing with it. The taste — that first drop of pre-cum was like nectar. Sweet, filthy nectar.
I started bobbing up and down, messy and eager, when I felt someone behind me. Brady?
He unbuttoned my trousers from behind. I glanced down briefly, utterly unbothered, as his hands fumbled with my belt. I dove back down on Lex’s cock, now glistening and dripping like it was alive.
Then Brady took his own out — thick, hot — and slapped it against my arse before nudging the head against my virgin hole.
“Shit, you’re tight,” he muttered, sounding almost reverent.
He kept teasing me with it, grinding, not quite pushing in. “Yo, Cam — throw me that Marmite.”
A second later, I felt Brady’s fingers in my mouth — reaching around from behind. They tasted like Marmite. I licked them clean and dove right back onto Lex’s cock, drool running down my chin.
Behind me, slick noises. Wet. Sticky. Then pressure.
“Marmite works great as lube,” Brady laughed.
And holy shit, it actually did.
Before I knew it, he was inside — stretching me, filling me, hammering me. His balls slapped against my pale arse as I moaned helplessly around Lex’s cock, which was already a slippery mess of spit and precum.
“Shit, he’s so fucking tight — I can’t… hold it—shit!” Brady cried out.
Then I felt it. Heat. Sudden, deep heat. Like molten lava flooding inside me.
But I wasn’t tired. Not even close. I had just started.
“Who’s next?” I shouted to the rest of the lads, who were already standing in a loose ring, wanking their willies to the spectacle that was me.
To my surprise, Daniel stepped forward, taking Brady’s place after his cock slid out of me with an obscene slurp.
Daniel glanced over at his boyfriend.
“Fuck the English slut, but do it hard,” Cam urged, voice rough with want.
Daniel didn’t need to be told twice. He sank himself deep into me, guided by Brady’s cum and the lingering slickness of Marmite. I gagged again on Lex, whose heavy bollocks were now pressing against my chin.
Daniel fucked me hard. Relentless. The kind of rhythm you feel in your teeth. My hole made wet, squelching sounds as he drove into me, again and again, finding the softest parts of me and wrecking them without mercy.
And I loved it.
God, I loved it.
I loved being their slut. Loved being passed around like a pint at a dodgy party. Why had I been so afraid? Why had I hidden behind manners and cardigans when this—this—was who I was? Someone who wanted to be used, fucked, kissed with spit and cum still on my lips.
Daniel picked up the pace, panting now, slamming into me with everything he had. Then he groaned, low and sharp, as he spilled inside me, mixing with Brady’s seed and Marmite of course.
Cameron was already ready.
And thank fuck for that—I hated feeling empty.
Daniel pulled out, and I felt it—thick warmth leaking down my thighs. That brief, awful emptiness.
Then Cameron filled me again.
And the rumours were true.
He was massive. Thick. But by now my hole was ruined enough to welcome him without protest, slick with everything the night had given me.
“Fuck, what a slut we’ve found ourselves,” Cam teased as he sank into me. His balls were already slapping against my ass, Lex’s cock still lodged in my throat. My jaw burned, but I didn’t stop. I wouldn’t stop.
“Harder,” I rasped between bobs. “Fuck me harder. Your fucktoy wants to be ruined.”
I didn’t even recognise my voice anymore.
And I didn’t care.
I was done pretending. Done being the proper British boy. Done apologizing for desire.
Cameron took the cue and pounded me, relentless. The sounds—skin slapping skin, wetness, gasps, moans—mixed with the obscene stench of cum, sweat, Marmite, and spit.
It was filthy. Carnal. And strangely beautiful.
Imagine Dad seeing me like this—being spit-roasted by two entire collectives, his polished little heir reduced to a drooling, used-up slut.
I didn’t give a damn.
This was me.
I was so hazy I barely registered Cameron finishing—another hot flood inside me—until he pulled out and I felt the mess trailing down my thighs, my arse leaking, empty again.
Then I heard Asher’s voice behind me — calm, clipped, but darkened with something else — followed by a sharp slap on my arse.
“I should’ve used you like this back in boarding school,” he muttered. “Should’ve let all the boys have a go at you. You could’ve been the dorm slut, bending over for the prefects between chapel and Latin.”
“Yes—yes, I would’ve let you,” I moaned as Asher bottomed out in me, his cock sliding in with obscene ease, sloshing through the mess already inside me.
I was losing coherence, drowning in sensation. Hazy. Debauched. Utterly wrecked. Asher pounded into me with a rhythm that felt like memory and punishment all at once. His palm cracked down on my arse cheeks, marking me, claiming me, each slap a punctuation on years of repression.
Then he groaned—deep—and came. Hot and heavy inside me, mixing into the growing stew of Brady, Daniel, and Cameron’s earlier floods.
He pulled out with a wet pop, and I felt it spill again—more of it, all of it, seeping out and dripping to the floor in thick, unrepentant trails. I didn’t care. Not about the mess. Not about anything. This was sacred.
I turned back to Lex, who was still rock hard, still glistening.
I took his balls into my mouth, slowly, worshipfully, trying to ease off his inevitable orgasm. I gave his cock a break from my usual feral assault and instead sucked gently, circling the head with my tongue, trying to edge him — trying to own this one part of the madness.
Then I heard it—Nick and Jax behind me, laughing and slapping my completely opened, gaping hole. It must have looked depraved… and glorious.
And I don’t know how the fuck they did it, but somehow they managed to enter me at the same time. I cried out as two dicks slid into me at once.
“Shit, yes!” I moaned.
While I did cry out in pleasure, it was almost embarrassing how easily they slid in together. But what can you expect from a hole that’s known more ruin than some ancient Greek city?
I went back to sucking on Lex’s wet, shiny dick, swirling my tongue around his head as his eyes rolled back. Nick and Jax found a rhythm, pounding into me together. I was so high and gone by now, but the pleasure was still undeniable.
Nick and Jax fucked me harder.
And harder.
Until they both cried out, shouting my name as they filled me—again. Six fucking loads inside me. It was insane… but it felt so good, just being free to do whatever I wanted.
As they pulled out, cum was literally running down my thighs. But Lex wasted no time. He lifted me up, laid me down on my back, kissed me, and fingered my wrecked hole. It was so wet and sloppy, he probably could’ve fisted me if he wanted.
But he had other ideas. He entered me with his own cock—the seventh of the night.
A few hours ago I was a virgin… or was it forty minutes ago? I didn’t even know. It felt like minutes and hours at the same time.
“Yes. Now you’re finally mine,” Lex growled, fucking the cum cocktail of the night deeper inside me. I kissed him. He kissed me back.
This is really the finale I wanted, I thought to myself as he continued to pound my poor, overstretched hole. I could hear the others laughing in the shower while Lex kept going—deeper and deeper.
“Yes, Lex. Fuck me. Unload your fucking balls deep inside your whore,” I cried out lewdly, long past any shred of shame.
“I will, Sebby. You’re getting fucking preggo, you whore—and we’re calling it Astra!” he growled.
As an avid reader of lewd mangas with mpreg themes, I wasn’t exactly opposed to dirty talk like this. In fact, it was kind of titillating.
I imagined myself with a lump in my stomach.
I mean… it would be kind of cool.
Lex was fucking me so hard now—harder than any of the others had managed. His cock jackhammered into me, and the wet slurping noises coming from my ass were insane… but I didn’t care.
Suddenly, my own cock erupted, spurting cum all over my belly. I hadn’t even thought about my own dick all night—it had probably stayed hard the whole time, but I hadn’t paid it any attention.
My cum coated my belly, and Lex took his hand and smeared it across my stomach and chest. Then he dipped a finger in it and brought it to my lips. I tasted it—it was lovely. I had never tried it before, and now I regretted waiting so long.
“Yes, yes, YES!” Lex cried out as he emptied himself inside me. The seventh load tonight, now mixing deep in my guts.
He kissed me. I kissed him back.
“My English whore,” he said, bopping my nose playfully.
When he finally pulled out, my ass released a deluge of cum—a tad of Marmite in the mix—forming a literal puddle on the floor.
Then the madman brought his mouth to my wrecked hole, lapping at it like a man possessed, filling his mouth with the obscene, sinful mixture.
Then he came back up toward me. He wanted to kiss me.
I rolled away like a ninja. “Don’t you dare, Lex. That’s too far!”
Lex just looked at me with mischief in his eyes and chased me into the living room.
“No, Lex. Lex—Lex!
Don’t you dare! Lex!!”
—
Then I of course woke up.
Drenched in sweat.
In my neatly ironed, plaid pajamas.
Lex stood by the door to my bedroom, looking worried.
“Sebby, you screamed in your sleep. Are you okay?”
I couldn’t even respond yet...
