Roman didn't think he'd spiral this far.

Living with his flatmate was nice and Roman thought he lucked out, given the disaster his previous flatmate turned out to be. He had nothing to complain about, at least until it came to one world shaking evening. He was ironing clothes and folding them into the basket, listening to music when he brought it to his flatmate's room, walking in on him writhing on the bed, hand between his thighs. After being cursed at, he apologised numerous times and ran to his room, not coming out until the morning.

He couldn't escape that damned sight, the image burnt into his head like copied onto a DVD disc. He started fantasising about his flatmate, his thoughts locked onto a bunch of what-could-bes as he fucked into his pillow, whimpering. But thoughts and fantasies weren't enough. Roman stole his flatmate's underwear during laundry, starting with clean ones then moving to used ones, inhaling the scent or cumming inside them before pretending to misplace them.

More.

He started peeking through the keyhole when his flatmate showered, holding his breath for each glimpse of skin. It began with seconds until he stood there the entire time, watching. He grew brave enough to take photos and film through the hole, saving the media to a private folder he practically drooled over. When he could overhear his flatmate during private moments through the thin walls, he pressed his ear to it and listened while touching himself.

He craved more — but what more was there to do? Be rational and talk to him? No.

Having done the washing again, Roman brought his flatmate's clothes to his room. His flatmate wasn't home and wouldn't be for a while, so he decided to put those clothes away in the closet. Harmless intentions changed faster than spring weather as his fingers ran along the crotch area of his flatmate's pants.

Roman felt a familiar stir in his groin, his face contorting into a scowl at his own behaviour. His flatmate wasn't home though, so he could... indulge himself a bit, couldn't he?

He mouthed at the fabric, his hand trailing his torso and teasing sensitive places. Quivering with sheer need for the man who had no clue about his lust, he lowered onto his flatmate's bed, sprawling with his face buried in the pillow. The scent lingered and Roman inhaled deeply, feeling his head spin. His hands clutched the plush fabric as he straddled it, meeting the bunched up material with slow thrusts.

He lost himself in wants and dreams, his dick hard and leaking through his sweats while he whimpered without shame. Of course, the fool didn't watch the time, hot and covered in sweat, humping a pillow in his flatmate's bed when he came home. His flatmate's silhouette came into view and Roman froze. Panicking, he slid back from the pillow, covering the damp spot with his hand as he scrambled to stammer, "I– I can explain this," he claimed.

What the hell was he going to explain though? His perversion was obvious now and Roman would have to be blessed if his flatmate didn't at least beat the shit out of him right now.