Mat paced the confines of his small, cluttered bedroom like a caged animal, his bare feet scuffing against the hardwood floor. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, his breath coming in short, frustrated huffs. The ache in his groin was relentless, a throbbing, insistent need that refused to be sated by the usual means. He’d tried everything—cold showers, distracting himself with mindless scrolling, even a frantic, unsatisfying attempt at relief that left him more frustrated than before. Nothing worked. His body was a traitor, and he was at its mercy.
“Goddamn it,” he muttered under his breath, raking a hand through his tousled dark hair. “This is ridiculous. I’m a grown-ass man, not some hormonal teenager. How is this even a problem?” He stopped pacing, glancing down at the bulge in his sweatpants with a mix of irritation and disbelief. A half-laugh escaped him, bitter and sharp. “What am I gonna do, start humping furniture? Or… no. No way. That’s insane.” But the idea, as absurd as it was, had already taken root. A quick, sharp jolt of pain might just snap him out of this maddening cycle of arousal. And who better to ask for something so utterly unhinged than his roommate, Fave?
Mat hesitated, chewing on his lower lip as he stared at the door. Fave was a lot of things—crude, chaotic, and completely shameless—but he was also the kind of guy who’d probably laugh his ass off at Mat’s predicament before even considering helping. Still, desperation had a way of stripping away pride. With a resigned sigh, Mat shuffled out of his room and down the hall toward Fave’s domain.
The door to Fave’s room was slightly ajar, and before Mat even reached it, a wave of musky, male odor hit him like a physical force. It was a potent mix of sweat, stale energy drinks, and something indefinably primal that made Mat’s nose wrinkle. He paused, one hand hovering near the doorframe, questioning every life choice that had led him to this moment. Peeking inside, he saw Fave slouched in his beat-up gaming chair, clad only in a stained jockstrap that had seen better days. The guy was completely engrossed in his game, his fingers flying over the controller as explosions and gunfire blared from the screen. Empty energy drink cans and crumpled snack wrappers littered the floor around him, adding to the grungy, chaotic vibe of the room. It was like stepping into the aftermath of a frat party, minus the charm.
Mat stood there for a long moment, his resolve wavering. “This is a mistake,” he whispered to himself, but the ache in his pants argued otherwise. Clearing his throat awkwardly, he leaned against the doorframe, trying to look casual despite the heat creeping up his neck. “Yo, Fave. Got a sec?”
Fave didn’t even glance up, his eyes locked on the screen as his character mowed down a horde of virtual enemies. “Kinda busy, bro,” he grunted, his voice low and distracted. “Unless you’re here to spot me some cash for pizza, make it quick.”
Mat shifted uncomfortably, his hands shoved deep into his pockets as he struggled to find the right words. How the hell did you even broach something like this without sounding like a complete psycho? “Uh, yeah, no pizza money. It’s… it’s kind of a weird thing. Like, really weird. I just… I’m in a bit of a situation, and I figured you might be able to, uh, help me out.”
That got Fave’s attention. He hit pause on the game, the sudden silence in the room almost jarring, and swiveled his chair around to face Mat. A slow, knowing smirk spread across his face, his sharp green eyes glinting with mischief. “Oh, this I gotta hear. You’ve got that ‘I did something stupid’ look on your face, man. Spill it. What kinda ‘situation’ we talkin’ about?”
Mat’s face burned, the flush spreading from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. He opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again, the words tripping over themselves in their rush to escape. “Okay, look, I’m just gonna say it. I’ve been, uh, dealing with some… tension. Like, a lot of it. Down there. And nothing’s working, and I’m losing my damn mind, so I was wondering if you could, like… kick me. In the balls. Hard. Just to, y’know, snap me out of it.”
For a split second, there was absolute silence. Then Fave erupted into laughter, a deep, booming sound that filled the room as he nearly tipped backward in his chair. “Holy shit, Mat! Are you serious right now? You’re so hard up you’re begging for a nut-shot? Dude, that’s next-level desperate! What’s next, you gonna ask me to slap you around a little, get your rocks off that way?”
Mat groaned, dragging a hand down his face as he tried to salvage some shred of dignity. “Laugh it up, asshole. I’m dying over here, and your room smells like a locker room orgy, so maybe don’t act like you’re the pinnacle of normalcy. I’m just asking for a quick fix, not a goddamn therapy session.”
Fave wiped a tear from his eye, still chuckling as he leaned forward, elbows on his knees, studying Mat with an amused, predatory glint. “Oh, man, this is gold. You’re really standing there, red as a tomato, asking me to play ball-buster. I mean, I’ve heard some wild shit in my time, but this? This takes the cake.” He tilted his head, his smirk widening. “Tell me, Matty-boy, how long you been stewing on this little fantasy? Did you practice that speech in the mirror, or did you just wing it?”
“Shut up,” Mat snapped, though there was no real heat in his voice. He crossed his arms, trying to look less like a flustered idiot and more like someone who had any control over this conversation. “Are you gonna help me or not? ‘Cause I can just go punch myself in the junk if you’re gonna sit there and be a dick about it.”
Fave leaned back in his chair, crossing one ankle over his knee as he tapped a finger against his chin, drawing out the moment with deliberate, maddening slowness. “Hmm. I dunno, man. On one hand, I’m kinda flattered you think I’ve got the skills to deliver a precision strike to your family jewels. On the other hand, I’m wondering if I should just let you suffer a little longer. Build character, y’know?” His grin was pure devilry now, his eyes flicking over Mat with a teasing intensity that made the air in the room feel heavier. “Or maybe I’ll help… if you beg a little. C’mon, Mat. Say ‘pretty please, Fave, wreck my balls.’ I wanna hear it.”
Mat glared at him, his jaw tight, but the ache in his body was a cruel reminder of why he was here in the first place. He shifted on his feet, caught between humiliation and the desperate hope that Fave might actually follow through. “You’re enjoying this way too much,” he muttered, his voice low and grudging. “Fine. Pretty please, you sadistic bastard. Just get it over with before I change my mind.”
Fave’s laughter rang out again, sharp and unrestrained, as he stood up from his chair, stretching with a casual arrogance that made Mat’s stomach twist in a way he didn’t want to analyze. “Alright, alright. Let’s see if I can cure what ails ya. But if you cry, I’m filming it. Deal?”
The tension hung thick between them, a mix of absurdity and something darker, unspoken, as Mat braced himself for whatever came next.
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