The apartment was swelteringly hot. It felt more like an oven with the stagnant air and the voyeuristic sunlight glaring into the living room through the crevices of the vertical blinds and the sheer curtain over them. Otherwise, the room was completely dark and every fan we owned was turned toward the couch bed where my roommate Sergei was sprawled out with no shirt or pants on and a sheet over his lap.

He had one hand held up, scrolling idly on his phone and his hair was flipped up against the pillows under his head so I could see the way the sweat slid down his tattooed, inky skin, giving the illusion of wet paint or melting wax on an alabaster wall.

"Are those all the fans?" I asked after entering the room, fanning my face with some church fan I stole a few months ago.

He barely broke eye contact with his phone when he answered. "Should be. Did I miss one?"

"No. But the rest of the apartment is steaming hot too. You could have left one for me back there."

"I could have, but I didn't. You're welcome to hang out here with me. Plenty of room on this lumpy monstrosity."

"Hey, you have a job. You can buy another bed any time you want. You just don't."

He looked up at me then, blinking eyes too blue to be human. "No, I mean, I named it Lumpy Monstrosity."

"You named the couch bed?"

"Yeah, I was drunk but somehow I made a tiktok about it, so now it's official. Once it's on the internet, it's official, no taking it back after that."

I sighed. "Are you on tiktok right now?"

"I'm always on tiktok, it's my therapy."

"I mean, are you recording anything? I don't want to be on tiktok, and I don't want to put on real clothes either."

He looked back up at me. "Shit, I didn't even realize."

"That's because you're gay and don't see women as sexual objects like most men."

"That's never been proven. Another likely reason is that there is sweat in my eyes or sunlight glare, or I'm so used to you walking around with your ass and tits hanging out of your underwear that it desensitized me from your womanly wiles."

"Thanks." I drawled back sarcastically. Then did a double take at him with only a sheet pooled in his lap. "Are you wearing anything under that sheet?"

"Nope, too hot for underwear. But for your sensibilities, I covered up the other monstrosity." He smirked at his own joke.

I rolled my eyes. "Why do men call their anatomy monstrous? That's not attractive, that's repulsive. It literally repels people from wanting to touch or play with it."

"I doubt that."

"Why?"

"Cos you want to play with it. Otherwise you wouldn't have asked if I was wearing anything."

"That logic is fallacious."

"Is it? Are you calling me a liar and you don't want to play with it?"

"I didn't say that." I glanced at his lap again. "Y'know, I've actually never really touched one."

That made him put his phone down completely and he propped himself up on his elbows. "Do you want to? I promise to not get offended if you don't like it."

"Really? I don't want you to fuck me or anything. But, I can literally just touch it and hold it and play with it with my hands? Like exploration of the other anatomy type of deal?"

"Yeah sure. Would you want me to touch you? Or is this all about me being fondled?"

I thought for a moment. "Only hands?"

"Hands and maybe mouth if the moment feels right. Nothing that will lead to you getting pregnant."

"And you don't have anything... transmittable?"

"Not at all. I get tested every three months. You?"

"No STIs."

"So we're good to just fool around as long as my dick doesn't go anywhere near either hole below the belt for you, right?"

I nodded.

"Well, you gotta come onto the bed. It's cooler over here at least, with all these fans."

I made my way over to the couch bed and sat down on it awkwardly.

Laying propped up on the pillows next to him felt surreal. He was a real person lying next to me. His body was covered with colorful tattoos. I looked up at his face, seeing the smirk there.

"Are you scared of it?"

"Yes."

"What are you scared of? That you might like it?"

"Yes."

He laughed. "Why is that something to be afraid of?"

"I don't know. Go back to playing on your phone or something. You watching me is making me feel self conscious."

"Okay." He reached for his phone and started scrolling again.

I was just staring at the sheet covering him up. The first thing I would have to do is move the sheet. I reached and slowly moved it out of the way, letting my hand hover over the heat of him. I heard his breath catch.

"Keep scrolling."

"I'll try."

Rubbing my hand over the soft skin and bristly pubic hair was so enticing. The only thing in my head was how adult I felt.

Finally.

I was only in my late twenties. But still. I liked the way he felt. He was soft and warm, and the smell of his musk started to drift into the room. His thighs were sweaty from being under the sheet in this summer heat with this janky apartment's busted and sputtering air conditioning unit that the maintenance staff was always 'trying to fix' but it never got fixed, hence the six box fans circled around us.

"It's so small."

"It's soft; it's always smaller when it's soft. When I get hard, it gets bigger. You really shouldn't call a man's dick 'small' unless he's into that."

"Are you?"

"Sometimes. Degradation and Humiliation play is a soft limit for me really. It has to be the right kind and there has to be a lot of negotiation beforehand."

I wrapped my hand around it and stroked it. "So if I stroke it enough, it will get hard."

"Try it."

I ran my hand over it, squeezing and stroking it, rubbing my hand in some of his sweat from his thighs to make him slick and easier to stroke. His breath started to pick up a bit,

"Does it feel good when it's soft and played with?"

"Yes."

"So what I'm doing feels good?"

"Yes... it does. And you're... squeezing... and it..."

"Oh, sorry, am I hurting you? I'll loosen my --"

"Don't. It's good. The squeezing is... perfect."

"Oh, okay then..." And I squeezed him tighter and started to stroke faster.

"Ah! Slow down. I... just... not fast right away or this will be over way too quickly. And I didn't even get to touch you yet."

"Is this as hard as you get?"

"No, I can go harder."

"So if I do this..." And I squeezed him as hard as I could.

He cried out, his back bucking so that his phone dropped from his hand onto the bed next to him. "Shiiit. Slack, slack, please, just --" He flailed his hand at me, grunting kind of in a pout.

I released my fist and felt his dick harden quickly, as if the blood just sped down to it and now he stood up against his body all on his own. My hand didn't need to hold it up anymore, whereas before it was still soft enough and just heavy with blood enough to not be 'at rest.'

"Wow..."

"See, bigger."

"It's so cool. Like majestic or something."

He chuckled, and then there was a little moan in his voice when I started to stroke it again.

I glanced up at him, his head was tipped back and his jaw slack. There were sunbeams casting shadows across his face, like he was being scratched with sunlight; and his heavy breathing was almost lost in the sound of the oscillating choir of fans.

I don't know what possessed me to do it, but I bent low and put his dick in my mouth, and the sound he made as he bucked up into my mouth was rough and deep. The skin was salty from his sweat, but not unpleasant really. His pubic hair kept trying to go into my nose, so I moved one of my hands to hold him at the base, smoothing the hair down as much as I could while I sucked.

"Bianca... shit..."

The way he groaned my name made me wet. I liked the way my name sounded in his voice when it sounded like that. I wanted him to keep saying it. I wanted to keep sucking him so his voice stayed in that note that sounded like it was suspended between struggle and satisfaction.

I felt his hand on my foot, on my thigh, and I pulled him out of my mouth and looked up at him. His eyes were darker and his lips were puffy like he'd been biting them and sucking on them to keep from making noise.

"Can I? Touch you while you... touch me?"

"Yeah. I mean, just go back to hands or--?"

His lashes fluttered and he kind of shrugged. "Whichever,"

I moved to lay next to him, reaching down to continue stroking him. I already missed the heavy weight of him in my mouth but my jaw was starting to hurt. I watched as his hand reached under mine and his fingers slipped under my panties. He scooted over so that our hips were touching.

"You're so wet," he whispered, and I felt his fingers poke inside my slit, grazing against my clit as two fingers spread my folds apart. Long, callused, fingers going deeper and down more to scoop the wetness and spread it around, sliding it up toward my clit. It made me gasp, feeling the press of his finger on me. It was distracting and hard to remind myself to keep stroking him.

He chuckled, "You're hard too."

I whimpered. I had never heard someone refer to my clit as hard, like it was a dick, like I had a boner, but I liked it. I liked thinking of it like that. I liked his fingers on it, and it flipped something over in my brain, like a lid went over everything that made me feel self conscious and wrong, and I suddenly felt sexy, in control and valid in a way I never had before.

"You make me hard. Your dick in my mouth made me... s-so... ah! Yes, like that... just like that."

His thumb was stroking it just right and I started stroking him again, mirroring his actions on my body to his as best I could transpose, given the technical difference in our anatomy. Really more about size and texture than anything else.

The fans played counterpoint to the flow of our breathing; panting, moaning, whimpering, the sluicing sounds of my wetness, and the skin slide whisper of sound as my hand stroked his hard cock. The sun's heat baked us in the surveillance of summer, staring through the slivers of sight from the sheer curtain and straight vertical blinds. I heard the note change in his voice and his other hand went down to press against the base of his cock. "Faster... I'm close, go faster...," he pleaded, as he turned to look at me, his eyes narrowed, the sweat dripping down from his brow, making dew in his eyebrows and halting at the awning of his lashes.

"Please, Bianca, make me cum... I want you to see me cum."

"I'm not close yet, what if you -"

"I won't leave you blue like that. I'll suck you off af-after, pl-lease..."

His voice crawled into my bones and shook the core of me when he pleaded, begged like that. He was begging for permission to be the most vulnerable a person could be in front of another person, and I wanted to see. I wanted to witness the full beauty of Sergei when he climaxed and dripped over my fingers.

So I stroked him faster. I squeezed him like he liked and he gasped sharply, his body went rigid, and still, I stroked and stroked and squeezed over the head, then stroked hard and fast on the down stroke, squeezing the head, and it had him bucking up into my fist. It was beautiful, my own body pulsed against his thumb, and when he came—the fountain of milky fluid spitting out of the head of his cock, I whimpered. I wanted to rub it all over me, but he had reached to wipe himself and my hand with the tail end of the sheet that was covering him up before, like some sort of reflex..

He kept rubbing me with his other hand so that I bucked my own hips against his fingers. He was still trembling slightly as his orgasm was fading. "You want my mouth?"

"N-Not yet... Press harder on the sides and can you do... dirty talk? I like your voice."

"Mmhmm. Cum for me, I can feel how close you are..." He leaned in to whisper in my ear and nibble on my earlobe. The heat of his breath and the feel of his tongue and teeth was sending tingles and chills down my body.

"... I want to see you come apart against my fucking fingers..." he continued.

With his attention focused on me, I felt heat flush over my body, my belly, my shoulders, my tits. I bucked up into his touch, and he moaned his encouragement. "That's it. Grind, grind on me..." his breath sucked in sharply as he was breathing harder with effort as he kept stroking and rubbing me off.

The heat of the room, the lukewarm air from the fans, the feeling of sweat dripping between my tits and down my spine to my ass, making the sheet under me cling to my body, soon all of that faded to just the pressure of his fingers on my.. on my dick, and the breath was pushed out of me as I came, I came hard, my body curling up toward him, muffling my moans into the inky expanse of his chest. He used his other hand to pet my hair and he was saying something reassuring to me, but I couldn't hear, everything felt far away other than the pleasure that was turning my body into a pretzel.

Gasping, I felt his hand move away and I rolled away from him a little bit, my heart beating so damn fast in my chest. I kicked the panties off completely and then fussed with my bra and took that off as well, then looked over at him as he was licking my taste from his fingers.

"Feel better?"

"Yeah. You?"

"Definitely."

"How did you know calling my clit a dick would turn me on?"

"I know how to spot an egg on the verge of cracking," he said and looked at me with a sort of solemn sincerity in his eyes.

"How?"

"I've dated many trans people. They experiment with me and learn who they are. It's kind of a super power of mine, I guess? I don't know another healthy way to process that."

"So you knew I'd crack and give you head and that it would solve my identity crisis?"

"Well, did it? Do you feel solved?"

"I don't know. But I did enjoy what we just did. I don't feel... cheap or used, like I have with other people I've fooled around with. Do you feel cheap or used?"

"Not at all. I could go for a smoke or a nap though."

"I already want to go again."

Sergei chuckled. "I'll take that compliment. but I can't rise again so soon. Having a refractory period is annoying." He turned to look at me and licked his lips. "But I'm down to go again and again as often as you want. After my nap, of course."

"Really?"

"Mhm, I liked the way your dick throbbed under my fingers. It's what made me finally get there."

"We should probably stop talking about my dick if you need a nap before we go again."

"Probably."

He exhaled slowly and closed his eyes and his head kind of dropped as his body relaxed, letting sleep take over. I closed my eyes too, maybe a nap would be good. The last thing I saw before sleep spread over my mind and senses completely were the streaks of the sun speckled in the room like strobe lights and the ambient drone of the fans surrounding us. I reached for Sergei's hand next to me. His palm and fingertips were clammy, but I didn't care, I held his hand anyway. And right before I drifted to sleep, I felt him squeeze my hand, holding it back.