Roommates With Benefits [BL]

For a while, neither of us spoke. The dorm was unusually quiet, the kind of silence that creeps in at the afternoon for some reason.

I found myself partially resting on Damien’s chest, with one leg draped casually over his. The rise and fall of his breathing was the only sound that mattered in that moment.

His skin felt slightly damp in places, a bit sticky from our earlier closeness, and the gentle mix of the scents of intimacy and fresh sheets blended with the warmth radiating from the radiator on the floor.

For several minutes, I barely moved, letting my fingers wander idly across his chest and the soft curve of his collarbone, tracing familiar circles as if trying to imprint the fact that he was truly there with me, not still two days away in that house that often made him quieter than usual.

The way Damien’s arm lay across my lower back kept me grounded without the need for words. Each slight movement reminded me of the pleasant ache lingering between my legs, a testament to how thoroughly he had taken me apart and rebuilt me.

But in this moment, all that mattered was the solid warmth of him beneath me and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against my ear.

It was nice. Almost suspiciously nice, which in hindsight probably should have tipped me off that something was about to disrupt this peace. Nothing in my life ever stayed calm for more than a few minutes, after all.

There was still something important I had to deal with now that it felt calm enough now. ”Damien?”

”Hmm?”

”Are you awake?”

One eye opened, looking at me like a man who already knew where this conversation was headed and didn’t want anything to do with it.

”Unfortunately.”

I frowned. ”What’s that supposed to mean?”

”I’m tired.” he said.

I stared at him, unimpressed by his audacity. He closed his eye again, apparently deciding that the conversation was over without needing to say so.

I poked his chest. ”Damien.”

A quiet sigh escaped him, the kind that said he felt personally victimized by my curiosity. ”Yes, baby?”

I reached for his face again, gently touching the skin under his jaw, paying closer attention this time instead of just feeling around in the dark.

He went still for just half a second.

That tiny reaction didn’t escape my notice, nor did the way his eyes flicked away from mine before returning, as if he was calculating just how much he could avoid telling me.

”What happened here?”

”Nothing.”

”That’s a fucking bruise.”

”Yes.”

”So something did happened.”

”I thought I covered it up properly.” He looked at me, and for a moment, there was a flicker of almost reluctant admiration on his face despite the situation. ”You’re very observant.”

”Exactly. Which also means I’m professionally qualified to notice when someone is lying badly.”

His mouth twitched, fighting a smile that he clearly didn’t want to give in to. ”So what the fuck happened?”

He chuckled quietly, a genuine sound, but it didn’t last long enough to distract me from what I had actually discovered.

I looked back at the bruise, my earlier lightness fading away.

”Who did that?”

His expression shifted, just slightly.

But enough for me to catch it, the way his jaw tightened and a guarded look came over his face, as if he were closing a curtain on his feelings.

”It was just a little family disagreement,” he replied, his voice still gravelly from sleep and everything else. ”Nothing worth getting upset over, Sunshine.”

‎

‎I frowned and sat up more, the sheet pooling around my waist as the cooler air brushed against my bare skin. The bruise looked even more intentional up close, a clear sign that someone had hit him hard enough to leave a mark.

The protective fire in my chest flared up, mixed with an unshakeable frustration.

”That doesn’t look like a little disagreement, idiot,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady despite the tide of worry beneath it. ”What kind of ’little disagreement’ leaves a bruise like that? Fucking tell me already, who did it?”

”Oliver.”

”No, you better start talking if you know what’s good for you right now.”

He sighed and leaned back against the pillows, staring at the ceiling as if it might offer him a way out. ”It’s not important anyway.”

I sat up, no longer in the mood to be lured back into comfortable silence.

”Damien.”

”It’s handled.”

”Handled?”

”Yes.”

I stared at him, waiting for the punchline that never came.

”Someone hit you, and your response is ’it’s handled’?”

He looked almost amused by my outrage, which somehow made it worse.

”You’re so getting worked up...so hot.”

”Of course I’m getting worked up.”

I gestured towards his face, my voice rising a bit higher than intended. ”There’s a bruise on you!”

”It’s a bruise, not a missing limb.”

”That’s not reassuring!”

He smiled faintly, that annoying composed smile he put on whenever he wanted to shut down a conversation without actually addressing it.

I narrowed my eyes. ”Who did it?”

He didn’t respond.

”Was it your parents?”

At that, the lazy smile vanished completely, like I’d flipped a switch, that was all the confirmation I needed.

My stomach dropped, the warmth of the evening turning into something colder and heavier.

”You...you said your family was difficult.”

”They are.”

”You didn’t mention that they hit you.”

”I didn’t think it was necessary.”

”Not necessary?”

My voice rose again, despite my effort to stay calm, a rational part of me remembering that yelling probably wouldn’t help, while the other part of me completely ignored that.

”Damien, you came back with a bruise on your face!”

”I’ve had worse.”

That statement left me momentarily speechless.

He’s had worse...

He’s had worse?!

What the hell?!

How could his own family do that to him? What kind of dumbass family was this?!

No matter how incapacitated my dad was when he was drunk, he never raised a hand to hit me.

Not even when he and I argued about him getting into rehab to fix himself and I was being very difficult to deal with, he never hurt me.

But... Damien?

Why did it seem like this was just a regular occurrence in his family?