Roommate Bonding Time CH. 7

Liam knows how to do aftercare right …

Table of Contents

| CH. 1 | CH. 2 | CH. 3 | CH. 4 | CH. 5 | CH. 6 | CH. 7 |

⚠️ Mature Readers (18+) Only ⚠️

---

CHAPTER SEVEN

---

DANTE

I’m still floating, my body a wrecked mess, ropes digging into my skin like they’re part of me now. My chest heaves, every breath jagged, and I can feel the sticky heat of cum leaking from my hole, dripping slow down my thighs. My muscles tremble, little aftershocks rippling through me, and my mind’s a fucking blur … a haze of pain and pleasure so thick I can barely string a thought together. Subspace, they call it. Feels more like I’ve been fucked into another damn dimension.

I hear the shuffle of feet, the low murmur of voices from the couch across the room. My eyes are half-lidded, but I catch Liam’s massive frame moving, still glistening with sweat from wrecking me. He’s over by Milo, Evan, and Chris now, grabbing the joint from Milo with a quick tilt of his head. “Thanks, man,” he grunts, voice rough but mellowed out. He takes a long, deep hit, the cherry flaring bright, and lets out a slow exhale, a cloud of smoke curling around him like he’s some goddamn warlord coming down from battle. He looks … grounded. Calm. A sharp fuckin’ contrast to the beast who just split me open.

Then he’s coming back to me, heavy steps echoing in my foggy head. My body’s slumped as much as the ropes allow, head hanging forward, and I feel the floor shift under his weight as he kneels right beside me. Close. Real close. I can smell the weed on him, mixed with the raw scent of sex still clinging to his skin. My hole twitches at the memory of him inside me, stretching me past what I thought I could take.

“Here, slut,” Liam says, low and gravelly, but there’s an edge of something softer in it. He lifts the joint to my lips, holding it steady since my hands are still bound tight behind me. “Take a hit. You’ve earned it.”

I part my lips, too fucked-out to even think of arguing, and pull the smoke in. It burns sharp in my throat, down into my lungs, a harsh comfort that cuts through the haze just enough to anchor me. I cough once, a weak rasp, and Liam’s right there, steadying me with a hand on my shoulder. His thumb brushes over my cheek, slow and deliberate, wiping away a streak of dried cum, tears or spit—I don’t even know. The touch is so fuckin’ gentle it catches me off guard. This guy, this absolute monster of muscle and dominance who just owned every inch of me, is kneeling here, giving a shit.

“Easy, Dante,” he murmurs, pulling the joint back after I take another shaky hit. “Just breathe. I’ve got you.”

Got me. Fuck. Those words hit harder than his cock did. I let the smoke out slow, my head tipping back against the ropes, eyes meeting his for a split second. There’s no judgment there, no coldness … just this steady, intense focus, like I’m the only thing in the room that matters right now. My body’s screaming, aching from the welts and the stretch, but that look, that touch … it’s pulling me down from the edge, bit by bit.

Liam smirks, “you took a hell of a lot, man. Time to bring you back now.”

Back. Fuck, I don’t even know where I’ve been, but I nod anyway, or try to, my head lolling a little. The ropes bite as I shift, a reminder I’m still bound, still vulnerable, but with Liam right here, that raw edge of helplessness doesn’t sting so bad. The smoke lingers in my lungs, the buzz mixing with the dull throb of my body, and I let myself just … be.

EVAN

I’m still half in a daze, the joint’s mellow buzz lingering in my head as I sit on the couch, watching Liam handle Dante with that steady, commanding presence. The room’s heavy with the smell of weed and sex, the low beat of the vinyl humming in the background. Dante’s still tied up in the karada tie I rigged earlier, his body slumped as much as the ropes allow, skin marked with red lines and welts. He looks fucking wrecked, trembling slightly, cum still dripping from him. I can’t help but stare, a weird mix of pride and concern twisting in my gut.

“Evan,” Liam’s deep voice cuts through the haze, pulling my attention to him. He’s crouched by Dante, one massive hand resting on Dante’s shoulder, the other holding the joint he just shared with him. His eyes lock on mine, sharp and direct. “I need you to untie him.”

“Yeah, I got it,” I say, nodding as I push off the couch. Liam’s tone is firm, no bullshit, but there’s a layer of support there, like he trusts me to handle this right. It’s weirdly reassuring, coming from a guy who just walked into our fucked-up world and took control like he’s been here forever.

I kneel beside Dante, my hands hovering over the intricate knots I spent so long getting perfect.

“Gonna untie you, man,” I mutter to Dante, keeping my voice low, almost gentle. His eyes are glassy, half-open, and he gives a small nod, or what passes for one in his state. “Just hang in there.”

I work methodically, loosening the first knot, then the next, unwinding the rope bit by bit. My fingers move with muscle memory, tracing the paths I created, but I’m hyper-aware of every little wince or shift from Dante. The marks are everywhere: crisscrossing his chest, wrapping his thighs, digging into his wrists behind his back. Each one’s a reminder of how far we pushed him, how he let us. Fuck, a few weeks ago, I was just … the roommate. Now? We’re this raw, tangled mess, doing shit I never imagined I’d be apart of.

“Almost there,” I say, more to myself than to him, as I free the last major knot around his torso. The ropes start to fall away, and Dante’s body fully slumps, no longer held up by the tension. His muscles must be screaming. Hell, I can see the way he trembles, like every part of him’s been wrung out. I catch him before he can tip over, my hands under his shoulders, supporting his weight.

“Yo, Milo, grab that blanket,” I call out, glancing over my shoulder. Milo’s quick on it, hopping up from the couch and snatching the worn blanket we were using earlier. He spreads it out on the floor a few feet away, smoothing it down with a quick swipe of his hand.

“Got it, man,” Milo says, stepping back but staying close, like he’s ready to jump in if I need help.

I guide Dante down, slow and steady, lowering him onto the blanket. His bare skin hits the soft fabric, and he lets out a low, shaky groan, half relief, half exhaustion. I keep a hand on his back, making sure he’s settled, my other hand brushing away a stray piece of rope still clinging to his arm.

“You good?” I ask, eyes flicking to his face. Dante’s breathing is ragged, but he manages a faint smirk, a ghost of his usual cocky self.

“Fuckin’… peachy,” he rasps, barely audible, and I can’t help but huff a small laugh.

“Alright, boys, let’s take care of our slut here,” Liam says, his voice deep and firm, cutting through the haze. “Surround him. We’re doing this right.” He steps over to a cluttered side table, grabbing a jar of coconut oil. It was Milo’s go-to for his skin, always sitting out somewhere.

Liam twists the lid off with a quick flick, scooping out a generous amount and rubbing it between his massive palms, warming it up. The slick sound of oil on skin is weirdly grounding, and I can smell the faint tropical scent as he kneels down by Dante’s side, close to his hip.

“Positions,” Liam barks, not harsh but with that no-bullshit tone that makes you move. “Chris, take his legs. Milo, you’re on his back. Evan, shoulders. Keep it slow, deep pressure, and listen to me. We’re easing him down, got it?”

“Got it,” I mutter, shifting to Dante’s head, my knees pressing into the blanket as I settle over his shoulders. Chris nods, moving to Dante’s feet, his big hands already flexing like he’s ready to dig in. Milo grunts in acknowledgment, positioning himself over Dante’s lower back, his tan hands hovering, waiting for the go-ahead.

“Start with broad strokes,” Liam instructs, pouring a little more oil into his hands before passing the jar to Chris. “Warm him up before you go deep. Watch his reactions. If he flinches, ease off.” He leans forward, his hands starting at Dante’s sides, sliding up toward his ribs with slow, deliberate pressure. Even from here, I can see the way Dante’s body shifts under the touch, a small shudder running through him.

I get some oil onto my own hands, rubbing them together to warm it, then place them on Dante’s shoulders. His skin’s hot, marked with red lines from the ropes I just untied, and I’m careful as I press down, starting with light circles over his traps. The tension under my fingers is insane. His muscles are knotted tight, like he’s been holding the world up. I glance at Liam, who gives a small nod, his own hands working Dante’s flanks now, occasionally dipping lower, brushing the curve of his ass before moving back up.

“Feels good so far, right, Dante?” Liam asks, his tone softer but still commanding, checking in as his thumbs dig into a spot just above Dante’s hips.

I keep my rhythm steady, working the oil into Dante’s skin, feeling the ghost of rope under my touch. There’s something heavy about this … caring for him after we all broke him down. A few weeks ago, I’d never have pictured myself here, hands on my roommate, surrounded by these guys. Now, it’s like we’re synced up, moving under Liam’s lead, all focused on Dante. My thumbs press deeper into a knot near his neck, and I hear a low groan escape him, raw but relieved.

“Keep it up, Evan,” Liam says, catching my eye. “He’s loosening. Now let’s really work him over.”

DANTE

I’m barely here, floating somewhere between my body and oblivion, every nerve still buzzing. The blanket under me is soft, grounding, but it’s the hands—fuck, all those hands—that are pulling me back to earth. They’re everywhere, warm and slick with oil, gliding over the welts and rope burns that crisscross my skin. My muscles ache, screaming from being stretched and bound, but these touches, they’re like a balm, kneading out the tension, soothing the raw edges. I let out a shaky breath, my head lolling to the side as Evan’s fingers work into my shoulders, firm but careful.

“Still with us, Dante?” Liam’s voice cuts through the haze, deep and steady, a lifeline. He’s close, crouched by my hip, his massive hands sliding over my ribs with slow, deliberate pressure. There’s a satisfaction in his tone, like he’s proud of how I took everything. And prouder still to lead this, to make sure I’m not just left broken.

“B-barely,” I rasp, my voice cracked and weak, but there’s a ghost of a smirk on my lips. I can’t help it. Fucked-out and half-lucid, I feel better than ever. Valued.

“Good boy,” Liam murmurs, and I feel his hand pause, thumb brushing a tender spot on my abdomen.

Chris is at my legs, big hands working my calves, and he chimes in, voice low. “You’re doing good, man. Just relax for us.”

I try to nod, but it’s more of a twitch, my body too heavy to move much. Evan’s fingers dig deeper into my shoulders, finding knots I didn’t even know were there, and I groan, the sound raw and involuntary. “Fuck … that’s … good,” I mumble, words slurring as I sink further into the sensation.

“Let’s shift him,” Liam says after a few minutes, voice firm but warm. “On your back, Dante. We’re gonna take this deeper.” His hands are on me before I can process, broad and strong, guiding me with the others’ help. They’re careful, moving me like I’m fragile, and soon I’m flat on my back, the blanket soft under me. Liam nods to Chris and Milo. “Legs up and spread. Keep him open, but gentle.”

“Gotcha,” Chris says, taking one leg, his grip firm under my knee as he lifts it, spreading me wide. Milo mirrors him on the other side, and I feel exposed all over again, but not in a bad way. Not with them here, watching out for me.

Evan stays at my head, his hands sliding from my shoulders to my hair, fingers threading through it slow and loving. He traces the shell of my ear, then down my neck, and I shiver, a weak moan slipping out. “Feels nice, huh?” he mutters, voice soft, almost a whisper.

“Mm … yeah,” I breathe, eyes fluttering shut as his thumbs graze over my collarbone, then back up to toy with my earlobes. It’s intimate, stupidly so, and it’s got my head spinning.

“Focus on his chest now, Evan,” Liam instructs, his own hands moving to my lower abdomen, fingers splaying wide, pressing just enough to make me feel every inch of his touch. “Work his nipples. Slow circles. Make him feel it.” Evan obeys, hands sliding down to my chest, thumbs brushing over my nipples, already hard and sensitive. I gasp, back arching a little despite how wrecked I am.

Liam’s eyes flicked between Milo and Chris. “Inner thighs, ass cheeks. Tease him. Light touches at first.” Their hands shift instantly, Milo’s fingers tracing the tender skin of my inner thigh, Chris mirroring on the other side, both of them grazing close to my hole, then pulling back. It’s maddening, the lightest of touches, and I twitch, a broken whimper escaping.

Liam’s fingers dip lower, brushing against the base of my cock, which—fuck—is rock hard again. It twitches under his touch, leaking pre-cum onto my stomach, and I can’t hold back the desperate sound that slips out. He smirks, just a flash, and leans closer, voice dropping to a hypnotic murmur. “You’re such a good slut, Dante. We’ve got you. Just feel every touch.”

“P-please …” I don’t even know what I’m begging for, voice breathy and fragmented, but Liam just hums, keeping the pace slow, torturously so. His fingers keep teasing, occasionally stroking the length of my cock, slick with oil, while Evan pinches my nipples just hard enough to make me gasp again.

“Time to switch it up,” Liam says after a while, voice still low, commanding. “Milo, Chris. Take his cock and balls. Slow strokes, nice and deliberate. Keep him on edge.” He passes the jar of oil over, and I hear the slick sound as they prep, then feel their hands on me: Chris wrapping around my shaft, Milo cupping my balls, both moving in sync, slow and steady. I moan, louder this time, hips twitching up into their grip.

“Hold still, slut,” Liam growls softly, but there’s care there, too. Then I feel his fingers, thick and slick, pressing at my hole, still loose and wet from earlier. He slips two inside, slow and deliberate, curling them just right to hit my prostate. It’s gentle but relentless, a deep internal massage that has me seeing stars. “There we go. Just take it, Dante. Let us work you over.”

“Oh … f-fuck … Liam …” My voice is a wreck, barely a whisper, as the pleasure builds, coiling tight in my core. Hands everywhere—stroking, teasing, massaging—inside and out. Evan’s fingers in my hair, tugging lightly, thumbs on my neck, then my nipples again, Milo and Chris working my cock and balls, slick and torturous, Liam’s fingers pressing that perfect spot inside me over and over, a steady rhythm that’s driving me insane, I’m overwhelmed, sensation crashing over me from every angle, my body trembling under their touch.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” Liam murmurs, voice a low rumble as he watches my face, eyes sharp and attentive. “Don’t fight it. Let go for us.”

“Oh … fuck …” I’m gasping, words broken, the coil in me tightening to a breaking point. My whole body tenses, then shatters. I cum with a shuddering, broken moan, the orgasm ripping through me in waves, more metaphysical than ever after everything. It’s raw, intense. Cum shoots out, hard and … far, splattering across my chest, my face, even hitting Evan behind me. I hear their laughter, light and warm, as the aftershocks rock me, my body jerking under their hands.

“Damn, man, you got me!” Evan chuckles, wiping a streak off his arm, but he doesn’t leave me, staying gentle on my shoulders.

“Keep touching him,” Liam orders softly, his fingers easing out of me, slick and careful. “Bring him down slow. Light strokes over his body, all of you.” They listen, hands gliding over my skin, grounding me as the waves subside. I’m trembling, hazy, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes—not from pain, but from the sensation of it all, the connection, the care.

“Easy, Dante,” Liam murmurs, shifting closer, one hand resting on my hip. “We’ve got you. Just breathe.” His tone is softer now, almost tender, and I feel the others close in, their warmth pressing against me.

“C’mere, let’s pile up,” Chris says, voice mellow as he helps shift me, guiding us into a tangle of limbs on the blanket. I’m in the center, still floating but anchored by their heat. Liam stays closest, a protective arm draped over me, his massive frame a shield. Evan’s pressed against my other side, hand still in my hair, while Chris and Milo sprawl near my legs, their touches lingering, casual but intimate.

The vinyl loops in the background, a low hum that fills the quiet. There’s no need for words, just this satisfied lull, the weight of their bodies grounding me as I drift. I’ve never felt this connected, this … whole, even after being torn apart.

And as my eyes start to close, I know I’m right where I’m supposed to be.

Dante

💬 Tell me in the comments:

• Whose POV do you want more of after this? Tell me who you chose and why.

• And be honest … who would you trust to dom you: Liam, Evan, Milo, or Dante? 👀

⏳ Heads up:

When the next chapter of Roommate Bonding Time drops, this one will slide into the paid vault with the rest of the series.

If you want guaranteed access to every chapter, plus the extra filthiest stories, consider upgrading to a paid membership — it keeps the chapters coming. 😈

Like what you just read? Try this: