My Homophobic Christian Roommate

Some curly haired fuck in a flannel played acoustic guitar and sang about letting Jesus fill him up deep.

It was 11 a.m., and I was dressed up and at church, still wiping the sleep from my eyes. My earliest class was a 9:30 AM seminar on Wednesdays, but somehow, waking up hours later on a Sunday was more of a nightmare. Even the homoerotic religious imagery could barely hold my interest.

Luke nudged me. It was time to sit down again.

That's lots of what church is. Stand up. Sit down. Stand up again. Shake hands. Sit down again. This time with Luke was no different.

Our relationship at this point was complicated.

He was a religious zealot, and I was gay.

To add a layer of complexity on top of that, he had deepthroated my cock a week ago.

He, in all his godly wisdom, had decided that he would do anything to save my soul. Apparently, that "anything" included sucking my cock.

Repression is a hell of a thing.

I had agreed to go to church with him this week if he had taken my dick and lo and behold, he held up his part of the bargain. No matter how much I hated that self-loathing, homophobic dickwad, I wasn't going to bail.

So today I had put on wrinkled khakis and a cotton button down that was too-tight around my chest, and we had driven to church in silence. We had barely talked to one another the whole past week, which I much preferred to the alternative. I still heard him praying damn near every day, though.

I looked around.

I had to admit, the church was a pretty one inside and out. From the outside, it was a mix of red brick and large, flat slabs of moss-stained concrete. Multicolored stained glass windows lined the walls, and a wrought iron cross was fixed on the steeple. On the inside, you could see the biblical scenes that the stained glass created, and together they bathed the hand-carved pews in rainbow light. Even the dust motes floating in the air shone with technicolor.

Honestly, it would be a great location for a Pride event if the parishioners weren't diametrically opposed to the existence of queer people.

The service was long and boring. A middle-aged pastor spoke in front of us about the dangers of living in sin. He vehemently rejected lust, greed, and worldly appetites.

Then he asked for money.

I consider myself a pretty good student. Still, I found his overarching point to be winding and boring, and as he droned on, I found my mind wandering. I thought about Luke. I thought about his mouth and how his lips felt wrapped around my dick. In a very short amount of time, I felt my dick hardening.

"Let us join hands with our family and friends, and pray," the pastor said. He bowed his head, and while Luke made no movement, I reached over and I grabbed his hand. I felt him tense up. His palm started to grow sweaty, and I could tell that he immediately half-wanted to pull away. While he closed his eyes, and the pastor began his prayer, I looked at Luke. His smooth cheeks and his shiny hair would've made him a popular twink at any gay club, and he decided to stick around at a church.

What a waste.

I gently pulled his hand in my direction, and I let it rest on my lap. Once again, I could feel him tense, but he did not pull his hand back. While the pastor prayed for blessings and forgiveness, Luke kept his fingers draped over my leg, barely grazing my erect cock. I could tell that he was torn, wanting to feel more, but feeling shame at sinning in such a holy space. Even through my pants, I'm sure he could feel the heat, and after I felt his fingers move slightly, he pulled back suddenly, as if he was burned.

The prayer ended, and we stood.

As everybody exited filtered into the narthex, I stuck close to Luke. To be honest, he wasn't my favorite person, but I would rather stay by him than be inundated by any other wannabe savior who would ask me who I was, where I was from, and every piece of information they could garner except for my Social Security number.

As some people started to leave for the parking lot, Luke stayed.

"Ready to head out?" I asked as another family left.

He looked at me, crestfallen. "You said that we would go to the potluck, though," he said.

Fuck. He was right.

I briefly considered just leaving, letting myself off the hook for what was sure to be a horribly awkward ordeal. I did say I would stay, though.

Goddammit.

"Fine," I said. "We'll stay."

"Great!" Luke said. "I told Pastor Maynard we would help set up."

God

damn

it.

"Now I'm an altar boy?" I asked.

"We don't have those," Luke said absentmindedly. His eyes already glazed over and he was looking around the room, charting out where we needed to go.

"Luke!" A voice said.

I recognized that voice. It was the pastor who had given the sermon. He appeared from the crowd in front of us. His eyes were kind.

"Hello, young man," the pastor said, smiling at Luke. "Good to see you growing our flock." He nodded toward me.

Gross.

"Can you two strong boys go downstairs to get some more tables? It looks like the Lord has blessed us with a larger group today," Pastor Maynard said.

Luke didn't even look at me. "I can get them myself," he said. "No need for two of us, sir."

He didn't want to be left along with me. Noted.

"Nonsense," Pastor Maynard said. "We moved them to the south storage room, and this man needs a tour!" He clapped a clammy palm on my shoulder and grinned.

I blew air through my nose in a way that could be construed as a polite laugh.

That was satisfactory enough for him, and the pastor left to go talk to members of the congregation.

I turned to Luke. "Let's go. We got tables to grab."

He pursed his lips, torn between following Pastor Maynard's instructions and wanting to avoid being alone with me. I could feel his weakness. I could feel how fragile his resistance to me was. Both he and I knew what being alone might mean.

Still, he nodded. "Okay," he squeaked.

As we walked through the popcorn walls that created a maze under the church, Luke babbled nervously.

"So, seriously," he said, "thank you for giving this a chance. Jesus is always there for you--for us--for anyone. The community is so good too. They accept anyone. Not that they shouldn't accept you just because you're gay, of course. Jesus hung out with sinners all the time. They accept anyone!"

"Mhmm," I hummed. As he tripped over himself and repeatedly put his foot into his mouth, I watched his ass. His slim khakis hugged his round ass, and with his belt cinched tight, he had a slight hourglass figure.

"I hope you'll come next week too," he said, turning into a doorway labeled "STORAGE."

I followed him in. "I only came this week because you swallowed my fucking load."

Luke turned, eyes wide, horrified at what I said.

I shrugged. "Not talking about it won't make it so it didn't happen. Doesn't the big man know everything?" I stepped toward him. Now we were only a foot from each other, and I could hear his shallow breathing.

"That was..." he started. "Of course He knows everything."

"Then he knows that less than a week ago, you deepthroated me until I shot cum down your throat, right?" I asked.

Luke nodded tentatively, his eyes darting around the room.

The tables were in the corner, rolled behind a shelf covered in nativity decorations.

"Do you want me to come back next week, Luke?" I asked. I took another half step. I could smell his breath, laced with the wafer cookies available before the service.

Luke nodded and started to lower himself, already sinking to his knees.

I shook my head and grabbed his chin, stopping him. "No, straight boy," I said. "I want you to try something new.

Instead, I reached down and grabbed his belt, unlatching it with one hand. He shook at my touch. I carefully and purposefully undid his pants button and zipper, making sure to trail my hand along his crotch. I sunk down, settling on my knees in front of him. In a smooth, forceful motion, I yanked his waistband to his thighs. He yipped.

His cock, small and trimmed, bounced out. He was circumcised, and his dick curved up slightly. He moved his hands to cover himself, but I caught both of his wrists.

"Don't touch," I said. I leaned forward, grabbed his hips with each of my hands, and I brought his head toward my mouth.

I did not, however, actually touch his cock.

He slightly moved his hips forward, as if trying to reach for my lips with his small dick, but I would use my strong grip to keep him always just an inch away.

"Beg me to suck your dick," I said. "Then I'll go to church with you again next week."

Luke's eyes flashed with confusion. "What?"

"You have to beg me to suck your dick," I said. "I will, and I'll go to church with you again next week. You want to save my soul? Ask me very nicely to suck you off."

"P--please?" Luke asked, his voice cracking.

"More."

"Please s... suck me," he said, turning crimson. The words sounded foreign and unsure on his lips.

"More," I said, breathing extra heavily so he could feel my mouth's warmth radiate to his dick.

"Please suck my dick until I cum," he said.

I smiled. "Good boy." I sucked his head into my mouth, moving my tongue rhythmically around him.

He gasped and shuddered, almost falling and causing the shelf to rattle. A plaster camel tipped over.

"Ever gotten your dick sucked, straight boy?" I asked, pulling his head from my mouth with a

pop

.

He turned even more red and shook his head quickly, biting his lip and closing his eyes. He was already fighting not to burst.

Then, just as I applied real suction, Luke's phone buzzed. I stopped. Someone was calling him. Moving my hand from his hip to his pocket, I slipped out his phone, still not removing his cock from my mouth.

The screen glowed.

Pastor Maynard

Without a second thought, I answered the call and passed the phone up to Luke.

His eyes focused on the screen, and as anger and fear appeared on his face, I heard Pastor Maynard's voice. "Hello, Luke?"

I took him back into my mouth just as he was about to speak, and I did my best to distract him. I moved both my hands to his ass cheeks, gripping him tight and fucking my own mouth with his dick.

Luke gasped.

"Luke?" Pastor Maynard asked again, now confused.

"Y--yes, pastor," Luke said. I had moved a hand away from his ass and was now massaging his balls while I let my spit drip down his shaft.

I may not be religious, but I knew how to worship a dick.

"Are you two boys having trouble finding the tables?" The pastor asked.

Luke bit his cheek and gasped silently. "No, sir. They're just a bit stuck."

Lying? Committing a sin while getting your cock sucked in a church had to be breaking multiple commandments. I rewarded him by sucking harder.

"Oh! I know those things can be a challenge," the pastor said. "Want me to come down there?"

"No!" Luke said immediately. "I mean, no. We're about to--we're about to get them."

Luke started to thrust along with my motions, and his cock was tensing up. He was close.

"Thank you, Luke," I heard the pastors voice say. "You're such a good boy."

Something about that sent Luke over the edge, and as he tried to respond, he couldn't find his voice. Instead, he moved faster and faster. I, for my part, kept a solid rhythm and swirled my tongue around his head every time he pulled back.

Luke clapped a hand over his mouth to stop himself from crying out.

I felt a piddle of cum at first before the first real stream shot out from his dick. His spunk was thin, watery, and I didn't swallow like I usually would. Instead, as he shot into throat, I held it there. I let it pool on my tongue and in my cheeks. Finally, he stopped.

Luke finally moved his hand away from his mouth. "Th--thank you, sir," he said breathlessly.

I stood up, and, towering several inches above Luke, I looked down at him. While he was still on the phone, I put my thumb on his lower lip and pulled it open. He complied, and without me telling him to, he stuck out his tongue. He knew what came next. I let his cum fall from my lips to his, and I watched the pearly white fluid flow down his tongue.

He audibly swallowed. "Also," Luke said, trying to stay composed, "my friend wanted to join us again next week at the service."

That asshole never let anything slide.