Forbidden

Rain is really irritating sometimes. Like when you’re outside trying to play basketball with your friends, and it starts freaking pouring. We scampered back inside to wait for it to pass. I had been sweaty, and now thanks to the rain I was sweaty and wet. I wanted a shower. But alas, we can’t have nice things. The whiteboard stuck on the door of the room loudly proclaimed in John’s rather sloppy handwriting: “Taking a nap – go away” No pleasantries, no politeness. How typical of John. He could be a total ass sometimes. The fact that it was my room as much as his seemed a little lost on John sometimes. Somehow, his inhumanly large collection of candles starting creeping their way over to my side of the room, which was irritating because unlike John, I actually had paper and other flammable materials attached to the walls over there. I was in constant state of shoving the candles back over with the rest of his crap. And seeing as how it was my room as much as it was his, I ignored his little warning and slipped the key into the lock. Quietly, though. I knew John would be hella pissy if I woke him from his beauty sleep. And believe you me, pissy John is not fun to be around, especially when you have to share a room with him.
The first thing I noticed when I cracked the door was that John was not sleeping, despite the fact that the lights in the room were off and the blinds were drawn, making it almost pitch dark. I could see him illuminated by the little flame on his lighter. He wasn’t flicking it obnoxiously as per usual, he was just… staring at it. Staring at the tiny flame. Lips parted, breathing slow and steady. I watched his bare chest rise and fall, barely visible in the almost non-existent light. I was tempted to just continue into the room, but I had a feeling that John would be irate if I did. He looked calm and meditative, which was really unusual for him. Normally, he was the opposite of all that was mellow. At the same time, I was fascinated. I’d never seen John like this before. I didn’t even think he was capable of such, well, calmness. Peace.
I was further enthralled asn brn brought the lighter, still lit, closer to his face. He ran the flame along the line of his jaw, and I could have sworn I saw him shudder a bit from that. Slowly, as if it were a feather or a soft hand and not a flame, he slid it back along his jaw and over his lips. His eyes fluttered and then closed. Against all my better judgment, I stood there peering through the slightly opened door. Spying on John in his moment of… something I wasn’t sure of yet. I couldn’t stop looking. I had never seen this side of John before. Didn’t even know it was there. Even though I knew I was violating his privacy, the sanctity of this moment of his, I couldn’t stop looking. Somewhere, some part of me didn’t want to stop looking, either. As I watched John’s tongue slide up the side of the lighter to tease the hot flicker at the tip, more and more of my brain decided it would be an awesome idea to stand here and watch John for a while. I couldn’t take my eyes off his m. Th. That full, pretty mouth lined with flawless teeth and framed by what I was suddenly realizing were the most luscious lips I had ever seen. John licked his lips, and light from the flame made them gleam. He exhaled softly, a sigh of so and and instead of flickering in danger of going out, the little fire flared more brightly at the touch of his breath. John’s head fell back a bit, lips parting a bit more, and the flame of the lighter glided down the curve of his throat. There was a soft rustling as John shifted a bit, sliding one of his hands down over his bare stomach and lower… holy shit. I shifted a bit, feeling blood rush to my face as I realized what exactly John was doing. I was almost embarrassed to admit that blood was rapidly moving to other places in my body as well, knowing that John was touching himself, watching John touch himself. It was John, after all. My room mate. Yes, my room mate, whom I had seen in nothing but boxers, in nothing but a tiny towel, fresh out of the shower with water dripping off his body… Great. Just fucking great. Now I had a full-blown hard-on. Okay, I admit it. John is fucking hot. I’d do him in a heartbeat. There. Got that out of my system. But somehow I doubted that John would be too enthusiastic about that prospect. But hot damn, the little spectacle I was witnessing now was almost as good. I still knew it was wrong to be spying on John during such a personal moment. I knew I would feel bad about it later. But at that moment, my hormones had sternly told my higher brain functions to please shut tuck uck up and enjoy the show.
Now I could see John’s arm disappearing into the waistband of his boxers. He wasn’t moving his hand, just holding his cock while continuing to caress himself with the lighter’s flame. John’s eyes flickered open and almost lazily his other hand lifted slightly and bit of fire slipped off the lighter and slunk over to the nearest candle, sparking it to life. The hand inside his boxers moved. John drew a sharp hissing breath. More fire siphoned off the zippo, more candles came to life. The movement of John’s hands, both the one stroking his cock and the one controlling the fire, became steadier until he had established a synchronous rhythm with the two. Like sex. My own cock was almost painful inside my jeans, and I reached my hand down to adjust it in an effort to relieve some of the pressure. Bad idea. My hips snapped forward involuntarily to meet the touch of my hand and without thinking I palmed my erection, sliding my hand over it.
With some of the candles lit, I had a better view of John sprawled out on his bed. I could see that his boxers were red silk and that he had pulled his cock free of them, and that his long fingers were wrapped tightly around it, pumping with a steady, even rhythm. His breathing was erratic, as was evidenced by the irregular rise and fall of his chest. And his face… eyes hooded and fluttering with each stroke of his hand and with each flare of the flame, lips still parted and gasping. A soft, silky moan crept out of those lips and that was all it took for me to say fuck it, unzip my jeans and hope no one else walked by. I wrapped my hand around my cock and bit my lip to keep from making any sound. I started to move my hand, timing my strokes almost involuntarily with John’s.
John had moved the lighter down to his chest, and was letting the flame caress the smooth, even planes of his skin there. No more fire left the zippo to light the candles; the flames now flowed sinuously from one candle to the next in time with the movement of John’s hands. st ast all the candles were lit and John was stroking himself faster and harder. I could see moisture gather at the tip of his cock as his thumb stroked over it and the thin sheet of sweat glossing his skin. My hand was moving faster now. I concentrated on keeping my breathing as quiet as possible, even as it became more and more difficult. I started imagining what it would be like if that were my hand on John’s cock instead of his own. Or better yet, John’s hand or his mouth…yeah, that’s it…stroking my cock.
The final candle burst into flames. John’s exhalations were laced with beautiful moans now, the types of moans I previously thought were reserved for phone sex and adult movies. Then I suddenly realized why John didn’t have any posters on his side of the room as each of the candles flared powerfully, filling his side of the room with fire. At that moment, John came, arching his back and thrusting into his tightly curled hand. Lips forming an “o”, brows knit, it almost looked like he was in pain as the shimmering ribbons of his semen shot onto his hand, chest and even his pillow. The site of that was more than enough for me come all over my hand and jeans and shirt, making quite the mess. Despite my best efforts to stop it, a small sound escaped. It would seem that John didn’t hear, though. He never turned as he slowly unwrapped his fingers from around his cock and moved his other hand to extinguish the small fires that had started on the curtains and his bedspread. I always wondered how stuff on his side of the room ended up with scorch marks in the weirdest of places. I was in the middle of debating what exactly to do next now that I had made an orgasmic mess all over myself when John turned. I froze like a deer in the headlights, cock still in hand. No escape. Fuck. Shit. He looked me straight in the eyes and winked of all things before sauntering into the bathroom to clean up. Not a single word, just that sly, snarky wink. The realization hit me: John knew I was there all along. And he performed his little ritual anyway. Performed it for me. That thought was almost enough to make me hard again. Fuck it all, next time I’m just asking him if I can join. Maybe we can have nice things after a