I can't believe I'm finally moving to London. I'm starting Uni here, but it's massive compared to Holmes Chapel. I'm sure I'm going to get lost, because I'm clumsy as it is.
I just need to find somewhere to live, and I'm glad here are plenty of adverts for rooms to rent. I hope I find somewhere with someone decent, who wasn't a bore. Maybe a little good-looking, even though I shouldn't be thinking of that.
I fucked a lot. Sure, Holmes Chapel was a bit scanty for women and men nowadays, and London was crying with fresh talent I could sink my teeth into. Or cock.
I shouldn't be thinking of moving in with someone I could potentially fuck. I only did one night stands, and I was sure to ruin things if I did fuck my room mate or land lord.
~~~~~~~~~~~
The first place I go to see is so small, but I politely look around. I'm not that rude. I would be wasting someones time if I just turned away. Plus, the man was really old, and I'm sure he looked a bit rapey. Sorry. But he did.
The second place I go to is far too expensive. Again, I look around, checking out what I couldn't have. This girl was hot, but I could see she had a boyfriend, even if she kept blushing every time I spoke. I don't make people cheat. Even if they would fall at my feet.
Walking up to the third flat, I notice it's quite far up in the building. I'm trying to remember the guys name who lives here. Lewis? No, it's a better name than that, I'm sure. His voice sounded nice on the phone, northern like me.
What number was it? 302? 303?
Oh, 312. Haha. Close.
I knock on the door, checking my phone to really ensure it's the right number. I bring my head up when the door opens, and I nearly drop my phone at the creature behind it. He looks me up and down, his gorgeous blue eyes standing out sharply behind a pair of glasses.
"Hi," His Yorkshire accent rasps, making my knees immediately weak. "You must be Harry."
Wow.
Look at you, with your fucking messy brown hair, slightly stubbly chin, and sporty clothes weirdly making me hard. Fucking hell.
"Are you?" He smiles. "Or have you just knocked on my door to look in?"
I swear I almost blush, tucking my hair behind my ear.
"Oh, yeah - thats me," I say, stupidly. "I mean, I'm Harry, yes."
He laughs gently, showing off a pair of white teeth behind his pink lips. I almost want to hold his face to look at them closer, but that would be weird, right?
"You wanna come in?" He smiles, clearly enjoying my oddness.
I'd like to come in you.
I'd fuck you into this floor right now. It blows my mind.
"Yes, please." I respond, tucking my hair behind my ear.
Again.
He stands aside to let me in, and I walk past him, breathing in at how amazing he smells, too.
Seriously? I can't live here. I'd be a walking boner. He closes the door behind us, and I take in the flat. It's nice, not too big, not too small.
"Right," He immediately grasps my attention, making me turn to face him. I've changed my mind. I'd fuck you into that door. "I need to keep this quick 'cause I've got footy with the lads."
He's straight. There's no way a gay man looks like this, smells like this, plays football with the 'lads'.
"Sure." I smile, politely.
He walks ahead of me, and I almost die seeing his arse, poorly hidden by his baggy tracksuit. Why? Why do you need to look so good? Why would you have an arse like that if I couldn't fuck it?
"This is the room," He rasps, I'm certain I'm hard as hell in my pants. "It's an alright size, I hope you like it."
I jump a little when he mentions size because I was thinking about my own cock. I push my hair from my face to peer into the room.
Wow, it was actually really nice. Well lit, open. I could see where my bed could go. My desk. I'm certain I couldn't afford this, though.
"It's lovely," I drawl, my accent clearly showing. "Really nice."
"Glad you like it," He smiles, looking so hot doing it. "You wanna look around? I need to change."
He trusts me to just look around?
"You don't think I'll steal your stuff?" I ask, and he laughs, showing those teeth again.
"No, Harry," He grins. "I don't. Feel free to look at the kitchen and stuff."
He shakes his head, smiling, walking out of the room, and straight into the room beside this one.
I bring my hands to my curly hair. What the fuck was I going to do? This is unfair. I've thought of fucking him too many times already, and I've been here less than five minutes. He's gorgeous.
This flat is perfect, though. Leaving what could be my room, I pass his lounge, a little messy from where he'd clearly been playing the Playstation. I could see it paused where he'd answered the door to me. He had a few pictures of family members, but that was it. Quite communal.
I go to the kitchen, which was surprisingly large. There's a table for eating, and counters that closed off a section for the white goods. I could really see myself being here. It was close to my Uni as well. The perfect distance so I didn't have to pay too much for travel.
I look out of the kitchen window, checking out the view. Not that it mattered. The best looking thing for miles had to be this man who lived here. What was his name?
I check my phone. I had to have typed it somewhere.
Louis. Fucking Louis. It completely suits him.
"So what do you think?" He asks, making me jump.
I look round at him, but my answer gets caught in my throat at the vision of him bending down to do his trainers up, tattoos spilling out of his tshirt, showing his now bare arms.
I can't live here. I'm achingly hard and he hasn't even said one suggestive thing to me.
He has skinny jeans on now, and I can see it so badly. His odd curves, thighs for days, and that fucking arse. I think I'm going to die from blood loss.
Answer him before he notices something, you freak.
"Yeah, it's great," I say. "It's close to my Uni, in walking distance. How much are you looking for?"
He walks up to where I am, and it makes me want to take a step back. He throws his bag down on the table, taking his glasses off, and grabbing a contacts case from his bag. What are you doing? Don't do that.
"I don't need much," He says, walking up to the mirror on the wall to put them in. "£200 a month?"
Is he joking? That's nothing.
"£200?" I gasp. "That's cheap."
I watch as he puts the first contact in his eye, blinking hard. He goes to do the other but stalls to answer me.
"No offence, I could afford this place without you, but it's such a waste. Just help me with the bills and stuff." He rasps, mouth open to put the contact in. Something about it looks cute, and also arousing.
"Fair enough," I reply. I can't say no. "You don't have anyone else living here?"
Do you have a girlfriend?
He blinks the other contact into place, before huffing.
"I've just come out of a relationship, so no. It's just me." He responds, turning back to me, looking like a God with no glasses on. How has no one pounced on him the moment he was single? The second?
"Okay, yeah," My penis talks for me. "I'll take it. The room. If that's okay, I mean."
He smiles at my weird chatter, turning back to rough his hair up. You looked fine anyway. Don't make it worse for me.
"Of course it is," He grins back at me, walking up to his bag. "When do you wanna come?"
My mouth opens stupidly. He means here, you fucking imbecile.
"Well, my stuff is back in Cheshire," I reply, playing with my phone. "Is a week okay?"
He sits on the edge of the table, legs slightly open but he's just relaxed. I shouldn't be thinking of fucking him into it.
"That's fine," He smiles politely. "I'm at work most of the week. What day were you thinking?"
I want to ask him what he does, but that's weird.
"Sunday?" I ask, tucking my hair behind my ear. His eyes flicker to my fingers, making me want to stop doing it. His eyes are so gorgeous without glasses. Ocean blue.
"Yeah, that's fine," He replies. "I don't work weekends, and I'm not seeing Niall. My best friend."
He explains even though I only thought the question of who Niall was.
"One sec." He says, grabbing in to his back pocket, retrieving his phone.
He answers what must've been a call, turning to face away from me, letting me see his tattoos more clearly. There's no real pattern, but I love that because it's what I do. So fucking hot, like, those biceps with that dark tattoo, sweet baby Jesus. I feel like a girl.
I'm fan girling.
"Hi?" He answers, before laughing. "What on earth are you doing?" He sounds fond.
"Oh, Niall, I didn't need to know that." He looks at me, with a slight blush, thinking I could hear what he was talking about. "Gross."
"I'll be at yours soon, don't be so fucking impatient," He swears, and I'm almost ready to come in my pants. I'm sure I could convince him to be gay, right? "I'm showing a guy this room I'm selling. No, I'm not describing what he looks like."
I look away, smiling.
"Yes. Yes. No," He obscurely answers his friend. "Niall, I swear to God if you don't shut up-,"
He gets cut off, and he frowns.
"Oi. I'll come round there, right now, and I will fuck you up."
I hear the voice laugh, but I don't find it funny. It sounds sexy when he's trying to be intimidating. Hot.
"I don't care if you go to the gym, Ni. Anyway, get off the phone, you're being quite needy, and I'm literally going to see you in the next 30 minutes."
He suddenly cackles, and I have to look at him to see that he was the one doing it.
"Don't be so fucking rude, I might get a boner."
I hope not.
"Alright. See you soon, mate."
He hangs up before turning back to me.
"Wow, I'm really sorry," He scratches his neck, embarrassed. "We're really weird."
It just makes me laugh.
"So am I," I reply, trying to make him feel better. "It's fine."
He picks up his bag.
"Right, well if it's okay with you, I have to be going," He grins, offering his hand to me. "I'll see you on Sunday."
I take his hand, feeling weird about how small it is, but he grips surprisingly hard.
"Yeah, Sunday." I reply.
He leads the way out, giving me the last dose of his arse until Sunday.
"See you, Harry." He smiles, locking the door.
"Bye, Louis."