Just a Game

It was a game at first--a stupid game they played to humiliate and gross each other out, and then it evolved into a sort of competition. It became a game of Chicken, and in the end, they both won.

Pete had known Dean for a while, but they weren't exactly friends before they became roommates. Dean was a friend-of-a-friend he saw regularly because they all used to play Magic: The Gathering on a regular basis. Pete's buddy Tony was the hub of the group, and games had happened on average once a month for years, but Pete eventually decided to get away from Magic, not particularly enjoying being drawn into the nerd scene, and also deciding that at 22 he was probably too old for that shit anyway. He'd had a couple of girlfriends who thought it was really weird, and even though they just failed to understand the game, he had been influenced by them and felt slightly disgusted with himself whenever he let Tony rope him into playing Magic again. The group kept on for a short while without him, but dissolved completely after two more of their regulars pulled out--one because of his job schedule, and the other because he and his wife had a kid.

Pete continued to hang out with Tony, the only one of the Magic crowd he still had a strong connection with--they had been friends since sixth grade. They watched movies, drank beers, talked about work, about women. When Pete lost his job due to massive layoffs, Tony began to pay for most of the beers.

Pete had enough unemployment compensation to last him several months while he looked for a new job, but pickings were slim, and having his income suddenly sliced in half was seriously affecting his ability to pay his bills. He was living in a small bachelor suite to begin with, and it couldn't possibly support another person--he confessed to Tony he'd probably have to move out and find someone to room with. That was when Tony mentioned Dean, who had recently had his hours cut and was also having trouble paying rent.

It wouldn't be ideal--Dean had a one-bedroom apartment, but it at least had more square footage than Pete's place. He tried to get used to the idea that he would probably have to crash on Dean's living room couch until his situation improved.

The first time Pete went to see Dean's apartment, he had to work hard to hide his displeasure. Dean was a hardcore nerd--his walls were plastered with posters. Lord of the Rings, Star Trek, World of Warcraft and other video games. He had collectible figures in glass cabinets, replica swords, many-sided dice, and cats. Three cats.

"Shit," Pete sighed as the cats circled around him, sniffing and rubbing against his legs.

"Oh... are you allergic?" Dean asked, standing awkwardly nearby as he watched his living space being critically evaluated.

"No, just... more of a dog person," Pete replied. He reached down to scratch one of the cats' ears. "I don't mind them, I guess. They seem okay."

"They're quite gregarious, but pretty mellow most of the time."

Pete raised his eyebrows a little, unsure what "gregarious" meant. He continued to look around, and spotted an antique-looking framed print of a tiger with Japanese script on it. He looked back at Dean appraisingly. He had black hair and very dark eyes behind his glasses, but Pete had never thought of him as being Asian. "You Japanese?"

"Half. My grandma sent me that for my birthday a long time ago. I can't read Japanese, and I can only speak a little, but I've always liked it I guess." He idly scratched the back of his head.

Pete nodded. Dean had a really nice TV, and a lot of movies and video games. He also had comics and action figures. "No offense, man, but did you design this place to repel girls?"

Dean laughed and flopped down on the couch, picking up a Rubik's cube from the coffee table and beginning to twist it idly. A cat climbed into his lap and started to knead. "No offense to you, 'man', but this is the 21st century. Girls can be nerds too. There are three of them in my Dungeons & Dragons group." He smirked at Pete's skepticism. "Real ones. With boobs. Anyway, what's with the judgment? You played Magic with us."

Pete shrugged. "I guess I grew up."

Dean pointed an accusing finger at him, but there was humour behind the exaggerated severity. "Hey! No one is obligated to grow up." He finally grinned, giving the cube a toss and catching it as if it were a baseball. "So what are you into nowadays?"

"I dunno. Hockey." He sat down on the couch next to Dean, bouncing a little to test it for comfort. "Not a bad couch to sleep on, I guess."

Dean stared at him blankly for a moment. "You wanted to sleep on the couch...?"

Pete mirrored his blank stare. "Uh... it's only one bedroom, right?"

"Yeah, but it's a big bedroom. Like, really big. Why get rid of your bed when we can both stay in there comfortably? I'm not shy. And I don't snore." He paused, looking suddenly embarrassed as if he'd said something inappropriate. "I mean... that's not super weird, is it? If one of us has a girl over at some point, the other can crash here. No big deal."

Pete shrugged. He hadn't considered this. "No, it's not weird I guess. I shared a room with one of my brothers growing up." He glanced over at Dean. "Where do the cats sleep?"

Dean scratched tha cat's ears. "Here in the living room. Bedroom is off-limits--they'd keep me awake otherwise. I'm sure you'd be even less excited about that than I would."

Pete nodded in agreement. Comfy couch or not, three cats running amok at night would be more than a little annoying. "Well, let's see the room I guess."

He followed Dean to the bedroom and glanced around. It really was huge, and there was plenty of unused space. One corner was dominated by an enormous inflatable T-Rex with a red bow taped to its head.

"She doesn't have to stay," Dean chortled, slinging an arm around the dinosaur, which was quite a bit taller than he was. "We have a pretty close relationship, but I'm ready to let go."

Pete at first glared skeptically, but he couldn't help the smirk that arose. "Is that your girlfriend...?"

"She wishes," Dean shot back. "Unfortunately for Lucy, 'inflatable' isn't my type. Neither is 'extinct'."

Pete laughed. "I guess it's relief you're only into inflatables on a friendship basis...."

"Strictly platonic, I swear!"

Pete continued to smirk. Dean was an oddball, but he was actually beginning to like him. He checked out the closet--also huge, and also with space to spare. "Well, yeah, I think this could work. Let's talk details."

After discussing rent, utilities, furniture, pet peeves, TV habits, food, and several other subjects, they had made a solid agreement. Pete gave notice at his current place, and started to sell off most of his furniture.

When the time came for him to move in, Pete was almost disappointed to find 'Lucy' had been deflated and tucked away, but he needed the space for his bed nonetheless. His double bed fit neatly under the window, perpendicular to Dean's. There was room for his good-sized dresser, and Dean had cleared more than half the closet space for him. They each had a shelf in the fridge, and the third was communal. Pete had a couple of kitchen cupboards to himself, and one side of the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. He was surprised at how well it all seemed to be working so far.

That first night, they lay awake talking and laughing for hours, like kids on a campout.

It only took a few days for the game to start. Dean hadn't been kidding about not being shy. He changed clothes openly, tended to leave the bathroom door wide open when he peed, and usually left it at least ajar when he showered. Since Pete didn't need to see that, he started subtly censoring his roommate, shutting the door whenever Dean was in the shower, or pointedly leaving the room when he started stripping.

One morning Pete rolled out of bed and found that Dean's bed was empty, and the apartment was quiet. He checked the time and assumed Dean was working. Slightly out of it, he shuffled sleepily to the bathroom, combing his fingers through his shaggy brown hair. He looked up with sudden surprise when he found it already occupied. Dean was standing shirtless in front of the toilet with his boxers around his thighs, dick in hand. Pete didn't mean to look straight at it--his eyes just settled there before he could stop them.

"Oh--shit!" Pete huffed, turning away quickly. "Sorry, man. I thought you were working."

Dean laughed. "They changed my schedule again. No big deal. If I cared, I would've closed the door!"

Pete stomped back to the bedroom, followed by the sounds of Dean's laughter and an intermittent trickling of urine into the bowl. "It's just a penis!" he chortled. "You have one too--unless I'm mistaken!"

Later that night, Pete was in bed with his laptop perusing job boards when Dean came in, getting ready for bed. He stripped down to his underwear while Pete pointedly ignored him.

"Hey--Pete?" Dean said in a serious tone.

"Hmm?" Pete looked up from his screen.

With one swift movement he pushed down the waistband of his boxers and pulled out his whole package, leaving it dangling in full view.

"Oh--jeez!" Pete groaned, averting his gaze as swiftly as if Dean had shone a blinding light in his eyes. "What the hell, man?"

Dean tucked his equipment back into his underpants and flopped back onto his bed, laughing heartily as he took off his glasses and set them on his nightstand. "You're hilarious!"

"Because I don't want to look at your dick?"

"Because you're so offended by it!"

Pete sighed and shrugged. "You're messed up, man. Seriously."

"You need to relax a little. The ancient Greeks wrestled naked, you know--but no one can handle stuff like that anymore. This is such a homophobic society."

"Are you gay?"

"No!"

"Then how am I homophobic?"

"I said society, not you. But maybe you are homophobic if you can look at your own junk every day but you can't handle seeing another guy's. It's not gay--it's not sexual. It's just the human body. Have you never been to a nude beach?"

"Nope, and don't plan to."

Dean sighed and burrowed under his covers. "I have, and I can tell you, I get why some people enjoy nudist colonies. I like being naked around the house. But for your tender sensibilities, I'll refrain."

"Fine. Thanks." Pete rolled his eyes. There was no further discussion on the matter, but he found himself lying awake thinking about it. If Dean didn't care, there was no good reason he couldn't change clothes freely in front of him... except for the fact that he was self-conscious. Pete was a bit on the overweight side, and hated his flabby upper body. Of course, he didn't have any shame around his junk specifically. Would Dean be totally caught off guard if he retaliated? He began to smirk at the idea.

In the morning, Dean was getting ready to head to work when Pete dragged himself out of bed. He silently ate a bowl of cereal while Dean devoured three pieces of toast with peanut butter. Just as Dean had grabbed his keys and was about to head out, Pete walked up behind him and cleared his throat. When Dean turned around, one eyebrow raised, Pete grinned and popped his junk out of his pants.

"Ah fuck!" Dean laughed, reflexively turning his head away.

"There--see?" Pete exclaimed as he stuffed himself back into his underwear. He pointed an accusing finger at Dean. "You didn't want to look at mine either--some nudist you are!"

Dean simply continued to laugh as he stuffed his feet into his shoes and headed out the door.

The game had begun in earnest. There was no discussion about it, but from then on they'd try to catch one another off guard with a spontaneous flashing on a semi-regular basis. Some days they'd do it several times. Sometimes a few days would go by without an attempt. Dean was usually better at it, mainly because Pete's reaction was stronger, but also because Dean seemed to have a knack for leaving his cock and balls outside his pants for quite a while without Pete noticing. His proudest triumph was the time he stood placidly working his way through a footlong sandwich for nearly fifteen minutes while Pete was working at his laptop before he finally looked up and realized Dean's exposed dick was hanging less than an arm's length from his face.

"Dammit!" Pete laughed, his head thunking down onto the table beside his computer. "You jackass!"

Dean laughed along, wiggling his hips a little.

"Put it away!" Pete guffawed, grabbing a nearby open bottle of water and sloshing it in his direction. Dean doubled over as the water splashed all over his crotch and soaked his jeans. Two nearby cats who had come to lavish attention on Dean made a hasty retreat.

"Hey--lucky I didn't have my phone in my pocket!" Dean exclaimed. "Well, maybe now you'll get your secret wish. I can't wear these." He let his wet jeans and boxers drop to the floor and stepped out of them. He swung around and gave Pete a perfect view of his ass as he bent over to pick up the wet clothes, and then headed down the hall, wiggling his behind showily as he went.

"I'm not even looking at you, dingus!" Pete called after him.

"Liar!"

A few days later, Pete got Dean pretty good. He slipped out of bed a minute before his alarm was set to go off, and stood at Dean's bedside with his package hanging free. The moment the alarm started to beep, Dean jerked awake, rolling toward Pete and beginning to raise his eyelids sleepily. When he noticed the presence in front of him his eyes flew open, getting a full view of his roommate's jewels displayed inches from his face.

"Shit!" Dean chuckled in a scratchy voice, grabbing his pillow and whacking Pete with it. Pete laughed and tucked himself away, carefully shielding his essentials from the onslaught of the pillow.

They both had a good laugh after Dean once scared the crap out of Pete by hiding in the closet first thing in the morning wearing nothing but socks and a tie.

Another time, Pete managed to successfully get Dean with the dick-in-a-box gag, which he long considered to be his crowning triumph.

One day, when Pete returned home from a stressful afternoon of hand-delivering résumés, he walked in the door and found himself face-to-face with 'Lucy'--although she seemed to have undergone a sex change. Dean had removed the red bow from the inflatable dinosaur, and added a new feature--a cartoonishly gigantic set of cock-and-balls made out of balloons. Pete nearly collapsed laughing, his day heartily improved at once.

The two were getting along surprisingly well considering the differences between them. They spent a lot of evenings together watching movies or TV, playing video games, or sometimes just chatting. Dean had decent writing skills and helped Pete polish up his résumé, even though Pete jokingly pointed out that he was probably an idiot to accept help from someone who was having troubles with his current job. Pete had more dating experience and talked Dean through some concerns about a girl he'd seen a couple of times, though Dean took the opportunity to poke fun at the fact that Pete was single and probably had no right to give advice.

A few weeks into their shared tenancy, Pete began to wonder about Dean's masturbatory habits. He was accustomed to jerking off on a nightly basis, but had resisted since he'd started sharing a room. Instead he relieved his tensions in the shower, or waited until Dean was at work. He supposed Dean might restrict his autoerotic activities to the shower, but being that he left the bathroom door open all the time, this seemed unlikely. At least, Pete had never noticed him doing it. He wondered if Dean might be one of these incredibly rare guys that actually didn't masturbate, or only did so very occasionally.

One night Pete was awake later than usual and finally caught him at it. He heard a rustling of sheets, and the furtive sound of hand on flesh, which became rhythmic and urgent along with Dean's breathing. He wondered if Dean did this often, after he thought Pete was asleep. Pete bit his lip and continued to listen, now and then glancing over and catching a bit of movement in the dim light that filtered through the curtains from the streetlights below the window. Ten or fifteen minutes passed, and then Dean's breathing ramped up, and he gasped, pressed a pillow to his face, and jerked spasmodically with the force of his orgasm, squeaking the bed slightly along with a muffled groan. Pete waited until Dean's breathing was even and punctuated with occasional soft snores before he reached beneath his blanket and helped himself.

During the day their game continued, and it ramped up. They started taking greater risks. Once, Dean flashed him while they were standing at a bus stop. Pete managed to get him back while his Dungeons & Dragons group was over, without any of them noticing, though they were baffled after Dean suddenly burst into a bout of laughter so unexpected that he spit out a mouthful of Coke all over his dice, and wouldn't tell them why.

It wasn't long before one particular boundary dropped. Pete overheard Dean masturbating again, and, for whatever reason, decided to subtly let him know. He shifted noisily in bed, and Dean's movement immediately stopped. Pete almost laughed aloud, listening to his rapid breathing.

"Oh, go ahead," Pete finally whispered. "Let's not pretend we don't all do it."

Dean let out a short, monosyllabic laugh. "I figured you would be all weirded out by it, like you are with nudity. Well... like you were."

They both chuckled.

"Seriously, let's just admit we're both gonna do it, and we don't need to be embarrassed," Pete said.

"Thank God."

Pete heard him redouble his efforts, and, after a few minutes, started up on himself. He found that he was actually enjoying listening to another person masturbate while he jerked himself off. The sound of someone else's heavy breathing helped him along, and he finished quicker than usual, shooting his load only about half a minute after Dean's. They cleaned themselves up without comment, and went to sleep.

After that, they both masturbated unabashedly on a nightly basis. During the day, their game took on new dimensions. Sometimes they would flash one another simultaneously. Their reactions evolved from groans and immature laughter to joking expressions of hearty approval, and eventually lewd comments.

"Like what you see, Peter?" Dean said suggestively one morning as he stripped his clothes off in preparation for the shower. "You like my gorgeous man-flesh?"

"Fuck yeah," Pete played along. "I'm so hard for you, man. Don't tease me--you know how much I want you."

Later Pete was preparing for a job interview, the first one he'd had since getting laid off. When he bent down to tie his shoes, Dean came up behind him, grabbed his hips, and aggressively dry humped him.

"Aw yeah, gimme that sweet ass!" he growled.

Pete cursed and lost his balance, falling clumsily into the shoes, bringing Dean down on top of him. "You sick fuck!" he exclaimed, but his annoyance turned quickly to laughter as they wrestled for a couple of minutes, and then Pete finally gave him a hard shove.

"Okay, cut it out--I'm going to miss my bus!" He quickly finished tying his shoes, and picked himself up off the floor, checking his clothes.

Dean stood up and gave him some space. "Seriously, you look good. I'd hire you." He grinned.

"For what--or do I want to know?" Pete chuckled.

Dean continued to grin. "Really... I hope you get it. Good luck."

As it turned out, the interview went poorly and as Pete made his way home on the bus he was certain he wasn't getting the job. He texted Dean to tell him so, and Dean replied with a suggestion that they meet at the pub on the corner.

Pete's depressed mood didn't last long once they were stuffing themselves with nachos and chicken wings, and washing it all down with beer. At least, Pete drank beer--Dean wasn't a big drinker, and spent the evening sampling various colourful, sweet cocktails, which Pete thoroughly mocked him for. With a few drinks in him, Dean started rambling on about his Dungeons & Dragons game and how "epic" it was. Strangely, Pete found that hearing about his dwarven paladin's adventures was much less boring than usual.