Two Doms

I woke up the next morning feeling faintly disappointed in myself. I had hooked up with Nick again. Even though I knew it was the last time, it was still incredibly embarrassing that I had succumbed to temptation three times. Well, I would just have to make sure that it never happened again. 

Anyway, the disappointment was vastly drowned out by the excitement. Last night was huge. 

I had broken the ice when it came to wearing girl clothes around Nick. Besides the girl clothes I had been wearing already, I mean. I double-checked that he was okay with it later that night. A few times, actually. He gave me some good answers: “Yeah, I'm fine with it,” “Yeah dude, you can wear what you want,” “Yes,” “I said yes,” “Mhm,” “Mm,” and “Holy shit dude, I'm tryna fucking sleep. For the last fucking time, I don't mind if you wear a dress. Stop asking!” 

Besides the totally unnecessary rudeness (I only asked, like, a couple of times!) I was pretty pleased with his response. I tested it out the next day. When Nick came back to the dorm, I was waiting for him in a little red skirt and a white button-up blouse, working on my statistics homework and trying to ignore my racing heart. He didn't say anything, just dropped his bag and started working on his homework on the couch. I grinned to myself. I was getting away with it!

And this outfit was so cute. The flouncy little skirt and the crisp white blouse. I felt like strawberries and cream. It reminded me of going to Wimbledon as a kid. Except getting to dress like a girl was more exciting than some dumb tennis match.

“Hey, Nick,” Nick said after a while, “What's the, uh, the threshold for a p-value to be statistically significant?”

I looked over my shoulder and brushed my hair from my eyes. In my cute outfit, with poor dumb Nick begging me for help, I felt very superior. I crossed my legs delicately and smiled down at him.

“Above 0.05,” I answered smartly. 

Nick frowned, “You mean less than 0.05?”

My smile dropped.

“Yes, duh!” I said, “Obviously that's what I meant.”

“Sure you did,” said Nick.

I huffed, “Well, why did you even ask if you don't need my help?”

“First of all, I never need your help,” said Nick, “And, I dunno, it was meant to be a fucking, y'know, like a nice thing. Like we help each other with the homework, and then the vibes are good, and, uh…”

“Oh my GOD,” I said, “And then I go down on you, right? You are sick.”

“No I'm not!” Nick protested.

“You’re obsessed with me!” I said, “Newsflash, Nick, I have better things to do with my time than suck your dumb dick.”

“Then why are you dressed up so pretty?” Nick protested, “I thought that was, like, the thing! Like you wore that dress last night and you sucked me off, and now you're wearing a really short skirt and I can see your panties and shit–”

“What?” 

“When you crossed your legs! I could see up your skirt, and… I don't know, dude! I thought it was a seduction thing!”

“Well it's not,” I said primly, trying to ignore the revelation that Nick knew I was wearing panties, “For your information, I just like to dress like this sometimes. It’s actually not about you, if you can possibly imagine.”

“Well… fine,” Nick turned back to his book and muttered, “Wasn't even that good anyway.”

I glared. That was such bullshit. I almost said something, but I decided to be the bigger man and ignore him. Besides, I didn't care what he thought. I was not in a sexual relationship with Nick. We had one brief encounter when I was in a really emotionally vulnerable state, and one more because I was extremely drunk off of two and a half beers, and one in the middle that didn't even really count because it was just hand stuff. We would certainly not be hooking up again. So if he, stupidly, wanted to pretend that I was bad at it, that was his business and it didn't affect me at all.

I returned to my studies, crossing out a few answers where I had slipped up with the p-value thing. Stupid statistics. So boring. 

I sighed. Business homework was definitely more enjoyable when I got to dress up pretty, but it still kinda sucked. It wasn't fair! Yesterday I spent three hours drawing in my sketchbook and the time just flew by, but after ten minutes of stats homework I was begging for it to be over. Especially with stupid, lying Nick sitting on the couch, smiling as he worked like he was actually dumb enough to find stats fun.

Anyway, I managed to knuckle down and get it over with. And, okay, later that night I did end up going down on Nick one final time. But it was just to prove him wrong.

***

I wore girl clothes the next night as well, and the night after that, and it quickly became the routine. I would go to my classes and stuff in my regular men's clothes, and then get home and change into dresses and skirts and leggings and stuff. It felt so good! And sure enough, the more I got used to it, the less kinky it felt. To me, anyway. Based on Nick's reactions, it definitely still turned him on. I made sure not to let him tempt me, though. Yes, he was really hot, and it was weirdly flattering that he found me attractive, and he was just so convenient… but he was still a jerk, and I hated how smug he got when I went down on him. So I made sure it never happened again.

Okay, it did happen one more time. About a week after the last time, Nick had a track meet, and when he finally got home he was exhausted. He staggered through the door and immediately tore his clothes off and collapsed onto the couch in his boxers, flushed and panting and sweaty. Meanwhile, I had spent the day at home, learning how to style my messy hair. I was gonna need to get a proper haircut at some point, but after following YouTube tutorials and experimenting with a curling wand, I had managed to get something actually pretty cute going on. And I was wearing this amazing black off-shoulder dress, and even shoes, these sparkly kitten heels that I didn't even stumble that much in, and I looked really good. Still like a boy, obviously, but, like, a very stylish and put-together boy. And Nick was lying there on the couch like he just washed up on the beach, and he just looked so helpless and pathetic, and when I strutted up to him he got hard immediately.

So, okay, yes. There was that one more time. But that was it!

It helped that I didn't see him quite as often any more. Now that our study competition was over, Nick spent most of his free time hanging out with his track friends. I had met some of them a couple of times. I was still attending his training sessions. I had gotten used to the routine, and besides, Nick always woke me up in the morning anyway because he was so loud. And it was kind of nice to sit up in the bleachers in the crisp morning air. I started bringing my sketchpad with me, and I would pass the time sketching the oak trees around the track, the shrouded buildings in the morning mist, the bodies of the athletes as they pounded down the track…

Anyway, I didn't like Nick’s friends very much. They were all so intimidating, tall and muscular and loud like him. I especially didn't like his friend Karl, that blond guy I had seen Nick laughing with before. He specialized in the hundred meter sprint and he was a real jerk. He always called me Little Dom, even when Nick told him not to, and one time he had ruffled my hair condescendingly. No, I did not like Karl. But whatever kept Nick away from the dorm room was fine with me. 

I was spending my own time at the art studio. I really liked it there. Everyone was so nice and welcoming, and it was so fascinating to see their projects change and develop over time. Nobody had figured out I was there for ulterior motives. They encouraged me to start my own project as well, and after some convincing I started working on a painting. Mateus, the bearded wireworker, showed me how to stretch my canvas over a frame, and Shawnee and Jess, the two girls with shaved heads, taught me how to paint. I was still a little nervous about what my father would think, but I tried to squash those fears. There was no communism happening at the studio, just a group of like-minded people sharing resources and helping each other. 

And of course I kept an eye on Kermit Tsu. 

I still hadn't found any dirt on him yet. He kept chipping away on Big iPhone, but he mostly kept to himself. He was a bit of a weird guy, I realized. Every now and then he would come over to see how I was going and offer his artistic wisdom (or let me know that I had tested negative for chlamydia) but he was reluctant to talk about himself. He preferred to focus on his work. He was so different to anyone else I knew. So mysterious, and brooding, and wise…

Everyone else was really friendly, though! Even Miel wasn't so annoying once you got to know her. I mean, it's not like we were friends, but if I had to hang around the studio to gather dirt, it made sense to act friendly. It helped when I realized she had no interest in Nick. Not that I was protective or anything, just that it would've been really hard to respect her if she had such poor taste in men. But no, Miel only had eyes for one guy. She blushed furiously every time Kermit said hi to her, and could only bring herself to talk to him if she had some new ACORN cause she was promoting. Still though, Nick had asked about her a few times, so I made sure she was aware how absolutely not an option he was.

I was just refreshing her memory one day, while we were eating lunch on the studio stage, when she said something very stupid.

“--and he always slams the door. Like, hello, were you raised in a barn?” I whined, “Oh my god, and his stupid friends are just as bad. They're always yelling and making dumb jokes, and they all think they're so hot just cause they're in shape. And it's like, they're not even that hot! Nick is probably the hottest one and he's, like, barely even hot.”

“Uh-huh,” said Miel. She reached out and flicked a crumb off of my top. I blushed. I had started wearing girl clothes out in public by this point, although only very androgynous ones. The jeans and T-shirt I was wearing could totally be normal guy clothes, and nobody had said anything, but I still felt a bit self-conscious.

Miel raised an eyebrow, “You know, you talk about your roommate a lot.”

“Well, it's just cause he's so annoying,” I said, “He acts like such a stupid macho man, like oh, he never needs help with anything. And then, like, as soon as you turn your back he's, like, borrowing your charger without asking, or stealing the blanket when you’re trying to sleep.”

Miel gasped, “You sleep in the same bed?”

“No!” I said quickly, “That was just, like, an example!”

I hadn't told Miel about our unusual co-living situation, in case she put it together and figured out that I was scheming against Kermit. She knew Nick and I lived together, but not why that was such a big issue.

She especially didn't know that we had just hooked up again three nights earlier. That one wasn't my fault, okay? It was Mateus’s birthday, and Jess snuck a bottle of liquor into the studio, and things had gotten a bit silly. And then when I got home, Nick had just gotten out of the shower… Look, it wasn't my fault! Real boys were scary, and Nick was right there, with his hair all messy and wet, and it was never gonna happen again anyway so there was no point talking about it. 

Miel giggled, “I knew there was something going on between you two.”

“There is not,” I said firmly, “We’re just roommates. Seriously. That's it.”

Miel looked unconvinced, but she shrugged, “Well, if you say so, Little Dom.”

I sighed with relief. But then she said the very stupid thing.

“But it definitely sounds like you have a crush on him.”

My jaw dropped. That… that was… that was so disgustingly wrong that it made me want to puke.

“I do not have a crush on him, Miel,” I said, “That’s literally the dumbest thing I've ever heard. I mean, I'm not even…”

I hesitated. My instinct had been to say I wasn't even into guys, but I knew that wasn't true. I could just lie, but… I really didn't want to have to lie in front of any of my artist friends. Well, not friends, since I was only there as part of a scheme. But my art studio acquaintances. And it's not like they were homophobic! Shawnee and Jess were a couple, after all. A really cute couple, too. 

But despite my newfound twink pride, publicly admitting I liked guys was still really scary.

Miel raised an eyebrow, “You're not even…”

I held my chin up proudly, “Not even going to dignify that with a response. My issue with Nick is purely about him polluting my living space with his irritating presence.”

Miel’s face lit up, “So you’re passionate about fighting pollution?”

“That's right,” I said firmly. 

Miel set her sandwich down, and I wrinkled my nose because the surface she chose to set it down on was my leg, and these were really nice jeans. She rummaged in her bag and pulled out a flyer. I groaned.

“Then you're going to love joining ACORN this Saturday to help clean the trash out of the west campus river,” she said smugly.

***

Cleaning up the river wasn't fun, exactly, but it was definitely satisfying. It looked a lot better after we were finished, and it made me feel kind of stupidly proud. Sure, it was just picking up plastic bags and empty cans for a few hours,  but Miel was really happy I was there to help, and it was nice to feel like I was making a difference. I went home feeling very pleased with myself. I just spent my whole day out saving the environment, and Nick had been lounging around at home. Who was the selfish brat now?

I stepped through the door and shut it neatly behind me.

“Guess what, loser?” I said, “While you were nerding away in here, like a nerd, I saw three frogs.”

Nick was sitting at the desk. At the sound of my voice his shoulders stiffened and he reached out to slam the lid of his laptop. But before he could, I heard a voice say, “Who is that, Dominic?”

“Nobody, Dad!” Nick said, “Just my stupid roo… uh, just my friend. Okay, bye!”

“Wait, Dominic!” said a woman's voice, “Have we met this friend? Is this Karl?”

I was frozen in place at the door, stunned at having intruded on what was clearly a call with Nick’s family. But I let out an “Ugh” at the idea of being mistaken for Karl. Nick shot me a warning look and I gestured for the door. Should I leave?

“It's not Karl,” said Nick, “It's my friend, uh, Nick.”

I rolled my eyes but didn't say anything. Nick could call me whatever he needed to in front of his family, I wasn't so petty that I was gonna cause him trouble with his parents.

“Hi Nick!” said a chipper female voice. His sister? “Dom, can we say hi?”

“Yes, Dominic, let us meet your friend!” said Nick's mother, “Helloooo, Nick!”

Nick’s sister giggled and Nick looked at me, his thick brows tilted up with worry. I shrugged.

“Hi, Lane family?” I offered. 

“Alright,” Nick groaned, “Say hi to Nick, everyone.”

He turned the laptop around. He had Skype open, and I could see three people crowded around a webcam on the other end. Nick’s family. I could see the resemblance immediately. His dad was a tall, slender black man with Nick’s intense dark eyes, and his mum was a short South Asian woman with the same easy smile and aquiline nose. His little sister was literally just Nick if he was smaller, female, and a lot less grumpy. She waved at me excitedly with both hands. Oh, that was another difference.

“Hi Nick!” she called, “I'm Anika! We kind of have the same name!”

“Oh, wow!” I smiled weakly, “That's crazy! Nice to meet you Anika. Nice to meet you, Mr and Mrs Lane.”

I slipped off my shoes and put them away in the cubby. Nick’s mom gasped.

“Look at this, Dominic!” she said, “Look at the manners of this boy! Putting his shoes away as he comes in, not stomping around in his dirty boots.”

Nick sighed, “Yes, Amma.”

“You could learn a lot from your friend, Dominic!” 

“Yes, Amma,” said Nick.

I grinned at the laptop, “He’s always slamming the door, too.”

Nick’s mom threw up her hands in distress. Nick glared at me.

“Dominic, Dominic,” his dad shook his head, “Eighteen years old and still slamming doors.”

“I don't slam the door,” Nick protested, “I close it firmly. For security.”

“It's such a shame, isn't it?” I sighed, “Such a lovely family, and he still acts like this.”

Nick's family laughed. It was a beautiful sound, his father's low chuckle mixed with his mother's melodious laughter and Anika’s cheeky giggle. I wasn't sure I had ever heard my parents laugh. We had certainly never all laughed together.

“You're a snitch, Nick!” said Anika. Nick laughed at that, but she waved him off, “I like it. I used to snitch on Dom too. He's always doing naughty stuff.”

“He really is,” I laughed. I liked Nick's family a lot. It was crazy they had somehow produced such an annoying son. 

“Alright, well, Nick should probably get going,” said Nick. He went to end the call, and I felt a little pang. I missed my own family – or, at least, I missed Harry and Luisa – and I wasn't sure I was ready for this call to be over.

Anika threw her arms up in protest and I noticed she was wearing a bib on her shirt, like Nick wore for his track meets. 

“Oh hey!” I said, “Anika, do you run track?”

“Yes!!” Anika screamed. Nick groaned and settled back in his chair, shooting me a dirty look. 

“That's awesome!” I said, “Did you have a meet today?”

Anika nodded excitedly, and her parents smiled proudly in the background.

“I did! And I came first in 100 meters and 200 meters, and I came third in hurdles but that's just cause they screwed up the starter gun. Next time I'm gonna come first!” she said, “I'm the fastest girl at my middle school, and I’m the fourth fastest person in total.”

“That's right!” Nick's dad said proudly, “She's a real track star, just like her brother.”

Nick’s mom hugged her daughter proudly. Even Nick nodded along, a wry smile on his face.

“She sure is,” he said, “When she grows up she's gonna get a scholarship for sure. A real scholarship.”

Anika blew a raspberry, “Screw scholarships. I'm going to the Olympics.”

“Fuck yes you are,” Nick grinned.

His parents burst into an uproar over his foul language and I giggled. 

“Okay, bye guys! Love you! Bye!” Nick yelled, “Talk to you later! Bye!” 

He slammed down the lid of his laptop and gave me a wary look.

“Well,” he said, “That’s my family. Got anything to say?”

His eyes dared me to say something negative. I grinned, because there was really only one thing on my mind.

“I knew I wasn't the only one who finds you annoying,” I said.

***

We both got busier after that. Miel kept asking me to join her for ACORN events, and I quickly started to look forward to them. It wasn't all just protests and clean-ups, there were fun things too, like bake sales and movie nights and swap meets. Sometimes I would help with the setup, but other times I would just attend as a participant, and hang out and have fun with the other members. I made sure to always surreptitiously slip a couple of fifties into the donation box. It felt pretty selfish to have fun for free. 

Meanwhile, Nick got himself a real job. He was working at a sporting goods store at the local mall, a mixture of customer service and lugging boxes around in the back room. Both parts of the job sounded concerning. First of all, Nick in a customer service role seemed like a nightmare. Sure, he seemed to get along with his track buddies, but they were all just about as annoying as him. If he was anywhere near as infuriating to customers as he was to me, it was a miracle he ever made a sale. And then the moving boxes part concerned me, because of his arm.

Okay, look.

Most of the time I didn't even think about Nick’s arm. It was far from the most noticeable thing about him. I spent more time thinking about his stupid gangly body, his booming voice, his messy hair, his taut muscles, his… other parts, which I had made a vow not to see again in real life, but certainly couldn't be blamed for reminiscing about in the shower. But I didn't really think about his right arm any more than the rest of him, until I noticed the problem.

That stupid hand didn't fit. 

It wasn’t just the wrong colour, it was also the wrong size. You could see it if you looked closely, and I had not only looked closely, I had sketched it. Not because I was obsessed with him or anything, I just needed to improve my anatomy and he was the most convenient model. So, yeah, I had spent a lot of time sketching his chest, and his legs, and his stupid face, and both of his arms. And it was clear that his prosthetic hand was noticeably smaller than his real hand, and the edge of the socket dug slightly into his skin, even through the sock. When he took it off you could see the marks it had left around his forearm, and although he hid it well I had caught him wincing sometimes as he adjusted it. At first I was confused why he didn't just get a new one, and then I looked up how much a prosthetic limb costs, and it became pretty clear. 

I wasn't sure what to do. I hated seeing that stupid thing around my dorm room. Even when it wasn't on his arm it pissed me off, sitting around taking up space when it wasn't even doing its job properly. But what could I do? I couldn't just buy him a new one. Father's accountant would definitely flag a multi-thousand dollar purchase from a medical supply company, and that could lead to him finding out about my dorm room screwup. And I was certain Nick wouldn't allow it, anyway. 

There were certain things Nick was reluctantly willing to accept help with, like comparing study notes, or letting me do his laundry if I was doing mine anyway. But there were other things he was more defensive about, and anything involving his arm was definitely off-limits. Maybe he would accept it if some rich benefactor decided to start handing out free arms, but getting the offer from me, his number one enemy? He would literally explode. 

So instead he kept doing that stupid job, hauling stock around in a prosthesis that was probably cutting off the circulation to his brain. It was stupid and macho and irrational, but hey, that was Nick.

It wasn’t all bad, though. He did look pretty good in his blue polo shirt. One night, I had just finished brushing my teeth and doing my skincare, and I came out of the bathroom and saw him hunched over his laptop, working away on one assignment or another. He had his uniform polo on (maybe not his most stylish shirt, but certainly the most expensive) and had his hair combed back, and he just looked so professional.

“Look at you,” I murmured to myself.

Nick looked up, already annoyed. His expression softened when he saw what I was wearing. 

I had splurged on new pajamas. Fancy pajamas. Undeniably feminine pajamas. Tonight I was wearing a short, lacy chemise under a matching silk robe, and even with my hair tied up I thought I looked pretty great. For a guy, at least. I had looked into why a guy would enjoy wearing women's clothes, and there were a whole bunch of different reasons. Some of them were pretty gross, and some of them were trans stuff, which was way too confronting and better not to think about until I had my own room. But there were also a lot of guys who just liked looking feminine and cute. Femboys. That's what I was, I had decided.

Nick was definitely into femboys. 

“Hey,” he said cautiously. After our last hookup (not my fault, it was a long weekend) we had both insisted it would never, ever, ever happen again. And, obviously, we were both going to stick to that promise.

“Hey yourself,” I nodded at his laptop, “Working hard?”

“Uh-huh,” said Nick, “I'm, uh, reading this article about sports marketing.”

I frowned, “I don't remember them assigning any marketing stuff.”

“They didn't,” said Nick, “I'm just reading it cause it's interesting.”

I huffed, “You’re reading an article about sports marketing because it's interesting?”

“It is!” said Nick, “It's about endorsement deals. It's cool.”

“Ew!” I wrinkled my nose, “Marketing deals are cool? How are you such a jock and such a nerd?”

“I’m a nerd because I’m interested in business? The literal subject of our fucking degree?” Nick protested, “Honestly dude, you’re the one being weird. You spent our whole Monday ECON lecture drawing in your fucking sketchpad. What were you even drawing?”

I flushed red. As a matter of fact, I was drawing Nick. But that was none of his business.

“Maybe I'm a multitasker,” I said defiantly, “Maybe, unlike you, I can do other stuff and still pay attention to the lecturer.”

“I can multitask,” said Nick, “I'm a great multitasker.”

“Oh yeah?” I said. I shrugged off my robe and hung it carefully on its hook, which I had attached to the door with a command strip. Okay, Nick had attached it for me. He was better at high-up things. 

“Yeah,” said Nick, “I can multitask the fuck out of shit.”

I turned around and sunk down to my knees with a wicked grin.

“Prove it,” I said. 

It turns out Nick was not such a great multitasker after all. I ordered him to read his stupid boring sports marketing article aloud while I played with him under the desk, and he gave up after about thirty seconds. Unless the article contained the phrase “Come on, you little slut,” which I highly doubted. 

“Admit it,” I whispered. I ran my tongue down the side of his shaft while gazing mischievously into his eyes, “Admit you're a bad multitasker.”

“F-fuck you,” Nick hissed, “I'm a great multitasker. This is cheating.”

I shrugged and pouted my lips, pressing them softly against the very tip of his cock. I looked up at him, awaiting his next sentence.

He glanced back at his laptop and read, “1984 saw the launch of Nike’s most ambitious endorsement yet, a five-year, 2.5 million contract with–”

I slipped my tight lips over his head, then jerked it out of my mouth with a pop.

“Michael fucking fuck! Jordan!” Nick gasped, “Okay! I'm bad at multitasking!”

I smirked up at him victoriously, “I told you! Whereas I am really good at it.”

“What?” said Nick. 

I nodded down at my other hand, which was clasped tightly between my smooth, bare thighs. Nick shook his head ruefully.

“You horny little slut,” he said, “You couldn't resist touching yourself, huh?”

“Mhmm,” I nodded shamelessly. I mean, hey. I wasn't so dumb that I was gonna play with Nick’s stupid cock and not take care of myself. 

“Well, don't let me stop you,” he smirked, “You can keep sucking me off, if you enjoy it so much.”

I shook my head, “Admit that I'm a better multitasker.”

Nick rolled his eyes, “You're a great fucking multitasker, Nick.” 

I grinned and gave him a big lick, like I was treating myself to a hot, salty ice cream cone. He shivered.

“And now admit that business stuff is for boring nerds,* I said.

Nick frowned, “I mean a lot of this stuff is really–”

“Oh my god,” I groaned, “Do you want to finish or not?”

“Fuck, okay,” Nick said, “It's boring and I'm a boring nerd. Now suck my cock, you little brat.*

“This is the last time,” I said warningly, speeding up the pace of my warm hand on his cock, “For real.”

“For real,” Nick agreed with a grimace, “You always make it some stupid game.”

“The games are the best part, dumbass,” I said, “That's what keeps it exciting. It’s called innovation.”

“And I'm the fucking nerd?” Nick scoffed.

“Yeah,” I grinned. I licked my lips, preparing to take him into my mouth again, “Now cum for me, you fucking nerd.”

***

We were still sleeping together every night. Not in a sexual way, just because we only had the one bed. I was never going back to that awful couch, and Nick didn't seem keen to either. So instead we would get under the sheets together, me in my chemise and him in his boxers or sweatpants, and go to sleep as far away from each other as possible. 

It wasn't a perfect system. Sometimes I woke up in the middle of the night to find Nick had rudely invaded my side of the bed to spoon me in his sleep. Or, even worse, the weight of his body had dragged me unwillingly onto his side, and I was snuggled helplessly against his back. 

Most of the time I just let it go. I mean, it wasn't really worth waking him up to have a whole argument about. And it was honestly pretty comfortable. Nick was annoying but he was also warm. That was just an objective fact. 

The issue was that sometimes the warmth of his body and the pressure of his arm wrapped around me would seep into my dreams. I would find myself lost in a pink haze of Nick snuggling me, and, ew, kissing me, and even…. fucking me.

I was definitely not ready to lose my virginity, and doing it with Nick was totally beyond the pale. When I had those dreams I would wake up in a hot flush, and have to shove Nick away from me and yell at him to keep to himself. Or, okay, once or twice if I woke up at a really intense moment, I would wake him up to fool around a little. Just to blow off steam. And I only did that twice ever, and both times were a total fluke.

But mostly sleeping together wasn’t really that big of a deal. Until one night.

I woke up early in the morning to the sound of Nick grunting and whimpering. It was so quiet, I wasn't even sure what was happening at first, but as my eyes adjusted to the dark, I could see Nick's face screwed up tight, eyes and mouth tightly closed, flushed and sweating from pain. 

“Nick?” I whispered, “Are you okay?”

Nick's eyes opened and I almost gasped at what I saw. I was expecting his classic dark glare, irritation at me for asking him a stupid question when he was clearly in pain. But for once, there was no anger. The only thing I saw in his eyes was shame. 

“I'm fine,” said Nick, and rolled over to face the wall. He didn't make any more noises, but I could see his breath was strained, and his shoulders were still shaking from the pain.

I watched him anxiously until his body slowly relaxed and he fell back asleep. 

I had no idea what the hell had just happened. I had seen Nick in a vulnerable position a few times, when he was especially tired out or stressed. But I had never seen him in so much pain, and I had definitely never seen him immediately back down like that. When he said he was fine, his face just crumpled. It was… disturbing.

I had learned a little bit about residual limbs, when I was trying to find out how much a new prosthesis would’ve cost. Maybe Nick was experiencing phantom pain, or he had some kind of nerve damage from wearing that stupid ill-fitting hand. Or maybe it was something else, some other issue I didn’t know about. It wasn’t like we were friends, after all.

I knew one thing for sure. Whatever the reason for the pain, this was clearly another thing Nick wasn’t going to accept any help with.

I lay there in bed and stared helplessly at his back until it was time for training.

***

Nick was more withdrawn after that. Less snappy. More inclined to let things go with a shrug and a weary look. Honestly, I should have appreciated it. I had been begging for Nick to shut up for months now. But the fact that his new attitude came from some stupid misplaced shame about being caught in a vulnerable moment just pissed me off even more. 

Nick was still spending most of his time with his friends or at work, and he started studying at the library. I still saw him around the dorm sometimes, but it wasn't the same. Even when I deliberately tried to annoy him, which I had never done before, he just brushed it off. 

“I don’t get it,” said Miel. 

We were in the studio. I was just putting some final touches on my painting before we headed out to go help at a soup kitchen with some of the other ACORN members. 

“What is there to get?” I asked.

Miel shrugged, “I thought you didn’t like him. You said you guys get into arguments all the time. So why do you care that he’s upset?”

“Because he’s not upset because of me!” I said. I jabbed my brush against the canvas, leaving little splotches of light against the green leaves. “He’s upset because he has some kind of stupid complex about being seen, like…”

“In an embarrassing situation which you refuse to describe,” Miel finished, “You know, it’s kind of hard to offer advice when you won’t even tell me what happened.”

I shrugged helplessly. Obviously telling Miel the whole story was out of the question. Nick was freaking out enough about me seeing him in pain, he would lose his shit entirely if I told anyone else. Plus I was still pretending we didn’t share a bed. 

“Have you tried just talking to him?” Miel asked. 

“Yes,” I sighed, “But he just shuts down. It’s really annoying. Like, what kind of childish dumbass just runs away from their feelings like that?”

“Ugh, totally,” Miel said, “Well… I don’t know. It sounds like he’s worried that you see him differently now.”

“But I don’t!” I said, “I think he’s dumb, like always!”

“Uh-huh,” Miel rolled her eyes, “And you still totally don’t have a crush on him, right?”

“Oh my god, Kermit!” I said, “You can’t be naked in here!”

Miel’s eyes popped out of her head, and she whipped around so fast she almost knocked over my easel. I laughed.

“You’re the fucking worst,” she muttered, “Oh my god. Fuck you, Little Dom.”

I giggled as I started packing up my paints, “You’re the one who brought up crushes!”

Miel stepped back to take in my painting.

“This looks so good,” she said, “You're so good at drawing hands.”

“Thanks,” I blushed, “I mean, I know there's a lot to improve…”

“No, it's so good!” Miel said, “Are you gonna display it at our showing at the end of the month?”

I grimaced, “I don't know… I mean, I'm not even an art student…”

“Me neither!” Miel said, “My major is technically poli-sci. But come on, Dom. You're one of us!”

My stomach turned. Sometimes I got so carried away I forgot I wasn't really friends with these people. It was so easy to get swept up in Miel’s energy, planning out ACORN projects and teasing each other about boys, but in the end I was going to get her crush kicked out of school and she would probably never talk to me again.  But it would be worth it. I would finally be free to be myself, without having to worry about what anybody else thought. 

But until then, it was important to keep the trust going, so…

“Okay, I'll put it in the showing,” I said, “If everyone is cool with that.”

“Yes, Dom!” Miel squealed, hugging me tightly, “That's so great. Shawnee and Jess have been bugging me to ask you. And it's seriously such a great piece.”

“Thanks, Miel,” I smiled shyly. Part of me kind of agreed with her. I mean, I had worked hard on it, after all. Was it so bad to want to show people?

I finished cleaning up, taking care not get any paint on my blouse. I was still playing things safe, so it looked pretty much like a men's shirt, but I knew the truth and it made me feel all warm inside to wear it. Also, it was really expensive. Miel locked up the studio and we headed to the bus stop. 

“Maybe you should invite Big Dom,” said Miel.

“Please don't call him that,” I sighed, “And I really don't think that's a good idea. Especially not when he's like this.”

“Maybe it would cheer him up,” Miel pointed out, “You know, doing something normal together. So he knows you still see him the same way.”

“But inviting him to an art showing isn't really normal,” I said, “I mean, it's not even normal for me to be there.”

Miel shrugged, “So what kind of stuff do you usually do together?”

“Nothing!” I said, “We’re really not friends. Just roommates.”

“But you see him every day! And it's not like you're always fighting.” Miel said, “There must be something you enjoy doing together.”

***

A few days went by, with Nick still ignoring my attempts to reach out. I tried to think of something we could do together to break the tension. But there was nothing. We went to training, but we weren't together there. He was running laps while I was up in the bleachers. We took the same classes, but he was laser-focused on his studies, while I was having trouble paying attention. I tried to spark his interest when we got our next ECON assignment, which for once made sense the whole way through. I thought he would be psyched to see that speaking up had actually made a difference. But if anything, he just looked embarrassed.

 A week later, the pain came back.

Nick didn't make a sound this time, but I had rolled against his back again, and I felt his muscles spasm. His whole body clenched, so hard and so fast that it tore me out of my restless dreams. 

At first I wasn't sure what was happening. Nick was shaking, but his breathing was slow and controlled. Too controlled, I realized, like he was forcing himself not to make a sound. 

How many times had this happened before we were sharing a bed? Nick could've been in pain like this dozens of times while I was down on the couch, and I would've had no idea. Oh god, he could've been in pain while he was on the couch, already coping with his legs being cramped up and pointy springs jabbing him in the side, while I was snoozing comfortably in the bed. 

And he preferred it that way. He would rather suffer in silence than admit he was struggling in front of me. 

Nick shrugged me off him, and I rolled onto my back, holding my breath.

This wasn't just macho pride, I realized. It wasn't just that Nick was too stubborn to accept help. I mean, sure, maybe. But this was something he had chosen to keep private. Maybe I thought that was a stupid decision. But it wasn't my decision. 

And besides… I could relate to struggling with something you didn't want to share with the world just yet. 

I exhaled slowly and closed my eyes, leaving Nick to handle things on his own. After a few minutes, his breathing returned to normal, and he rolled back over. I turned my head.

“Hey,” I said.

Nick sighed, “Hey.” 

He had the same weary, haunted look he’d had for the past week. But I let it go. I smiled softly and began to close my eyes. But I couldn't help but notice that the sheets had pulled off us as we moved around, and Nick’s firm, hairy chest was exposed to the cool night air. I bit my lip and looked up at his face, for the first time in a while looking for more than just hidden pain. 

He hadn't shaved in a while, and his stubble was dark and rugged. His thick, heavy brows met the edge of his jutting nose, giving him a bold, imposing look like a Roman statue. I shivered.

“Do you want a blowjob?” I whispered.

Nick blinked, “What?”

I shrugged a shoulder, “I don't know. I just… it's been a while and you look really good right now.”

Nick winced, “Is this because…”

“Ew,” I said, “No. But, I mean, you did wake me up. So it’s kind of the least you could do.”

Nick’s jaw dropped, as if what I had said was somehow unfair or audacious. 

“That is… fucking…” he scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief, “No, Nick, I don't want a blowjob right now. I'm not some fucking free dick machine you can just play with whenever you want, you little freak. Go to bed.”

“I am in bed,” I pointed out primly, “But fine. Your loss.”

I rolled over and snuggled into the blankets, feeling miffed. That was very rude, I thought. All he had to do was say no thank you. And now I didn't even have his body heat against me to keep my legs warm. But part of me was kind of happy. That had been the most feisty Nick had been in a while. Maybe things weren’t totally back to normal, but eventually–

A firm hand jostled my shoulder.

“Hey,” Nick whispered, “Is the blowjob offer still on the table?”

I nodded eagerly and wriggled down under the blankets. 

This really was the last time, though.