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By *c8484 OP Man
6 days ago
Dunfermline |
Mark cursed under his breath and jumped up, scanning the room in a panic. “Who the fuck Is that at this time”, he whispered. His shirt was still hanging off the lampshade, casting warped shadows across the wall. His briefs were on the floor halfway under the bed. Mine weren’t much better — tossed on the floor, near a chair, inside-out.
We both moved fast, pulling on whatever was closest. Mark grabbed his briefs and yanked the shirt off the lamp, struggling to get it on right-side out. I got my underwear on and threw on a T-shirt.
Mark glanced at me like, You decent enough?
I nodded.
He opened the door just a crack.
“Yeah?”
Standing there, mop in one hand and a flashlight resting lazily on his shoulder, was Carl. Janitor. He’d been barking out orders in the corridors when I’d arrived. He was in his Mid-fifties, cap pulled low over his eyes, his shirt stained from old meals. He wasn’t the threatening type — just the kind of guy who lingered too long in changing rooms and always had stories no one asked to hear.
Carl didn’t even try to hide his interest.
“Evenin’, boys,” he drawled, peeking past Mark. “Got a complaint from the girl down the hall. Said she heard some... thumping. Thought maybe furniture fell over. Or someone was fallin’ into furniture.”
Mark forced a smile. “Well it wasn’t us. We were asleep.”
Carl didn’t move. Just leaned a little into the doorway and let his eyes roam across the room like he was taking mental notes. Beds messy. Sheets half on the floor. One pillow against the wall. And the carpet—still damp in a spot near the foot of the bed where Mark had cum.
He let out a slow whistle.
“Hell of a workout you two had.”
I stayed quiet. Sitting on the edge of the bed, pretending I wasn’t trying to tug my t-shirt lower over my thighs.
Carl’s eyes lingered on me. Then back to Mark.
“No judgment,” he added, after a second. “You’re young. Got energy. Hormones. Hell, I remember that.
“Used to be nights like that where I’d wake up not even sure whose dorm I was in. Girls, mostly. But, you know…” His eyes flicked between us again. “University is University.”
Mark shifted, one hand still on the door, the other gripping the edge like he was trying not to slam it.
“Glad you’re not offended,” he said.
Carl chuckled. “Didn’t say I was offended. Just... surprised no one invited me.”
The silence that followed was sharp and uncomfortable.
Then Carl winked. “Kidding.”
He stepped back, finally, the keys on his belt jingling as he started to turn away.
“Oh — and next time, maybe lay a towel down, yeah? That carpet’s older than both of you. Doesn’t need any more suspicious stains.”
With that, he whistled a low, familiar tune and pushed his mop bucket down the hall — slow, squeaky, and far too pleased with himself.
Mark shut the door hard and locked it with a muttered “Fuckin hell”.
I looked at him. “You think he knew what we’d been up to?”
Mark snorted. “I think if we went down to his little office in about 20 minutes we’d find him with his cock out, masturbating like crazy at the thought of what we’d been up to.”
The next morning, we got up and started getting dressed. I began unpacking my suitcase while Mark lounged on his bed, pretending to flip through a magazine.
He was wearing a black muscle tshirt and white jeans—tight enough to leave very little to the imagination. He definitely knew what he was doing.
I caught him glancing over as I hung up a pair of trousers.
He smirked. “Mate, you dress like an old farmer.”
I turned red. “Sorry…”
He sat up, still grinning. “Don’t apologize. If that’s your thing, go for it.”
I looked down at the brown corduroys I was wearing and grimaced. “Yeah, I’m not sure what my thing is, to be honest.”
Mark raised an eyebrow, eyes flicking over me again. “Well, lucky for you, nobody here knows you. Blank slate.”
I smiled, warming to the idea. “Maybe I should try to reinvent myself.”
He tossed the magazine aside and stood up, full of sudden energy. “Now that’s a fab idea. Style reboot starts today.”
“Oh?”
“Yup. Grab your coat—and your wallet. I’m taking you shopping.”
After being dragged around the shiny new St James shopping centre for what felt like hours, I was practically buried in shopping bags. My old black shoes were officially getting the boot—replaced by a killer pair of cherry red Doc Martens. I’d also somehow ended up with a rainbow of Superdry T-shirts and a sage green denim jacket with a soft, furry collar that Mark insisted I had to get.
Mark had picked up a few things for himself too—he had this effortless way of making shopping feel more like an adventure than a chore.
We were just about to stop for a much-needed coffee break when he suddenly spotted the new Levi’s store on the ground floor.
“Fuck yeah,” he laughed, eyes lighting up. “We gotta check that out.”
Before I could answer, he was already inside, pulling jeans off shelves and tossing them into my arms with a grin. “Go try these on,” he said, nudging me toward the changing rooms.
I ducked into the changing room, arms full of denim, and started peeling off my trousers. The lighting was surprisingly decent—not the usual dark and dingy kind—and I actually liked the first pair I pulled on. They hugged in the right places, sat nicely on my waist.
Then I heard Mark’s laugh echoing from the shop floor. Low, playful. I froze for a second, straining to hear.
He was chatting with one of the staff—a girl, by the sound of it. Her voice was all sweet and flirty, and Mark was giving it right back. I couldn’t hear every word, but their banter got under my skin in a way I didn’t expect.
By the time I stepped out to check the mirror in better light, she was walking past, tight jeans hugging her like they’d been painted on. She shot me a polite smile and a quick “Hey,” before disappearing behind a rack of shirts. The jeans did that thing—lifted, sculpted—like they were designed to make people stare.
I glanced at Mark, who was lounging against a shelf with a smug little smile on his face.
“You like her or something?” I asked, trying to sound casual. I don’t think I pulled it off.
He raised an eyebrow, then laughed. “Nah… not really my type.” He glanced toward where she’d gone, then added with a cheeky grin, “But those jeans—and that tight ass? I mean… wow.”
I rolled my eyes, half smiling, half annoyed. “Charming.”
He looked at me then, really looked, and his smile softened. “Relax. She’s hot, sure—but trust me, I’m not interested in her.”
Before we headed back to our student accommodation, we made a quick pit stop at Starbucks. While I waited in line, Mark suddenly looked like he’d just remembered something urgent and darted out of the coffee shop like his life depended on it.
When he came back, he had this smug little grin that told me he’d been up to something—I just had no clue what.
We grabbed our coffees and headed back to our room. I was feeling pretty good about my clothes, tossing my old stuff in a corner.
“I’ll drop this lot off at a charity shop tomorrow,” I told Mark. He was busy digging through his bags, eyes fixed on the clothes he’d picked up.
I was nearly done putting mine away when Mark looked up, smirking. “I got you a gift. Think of it as a little room-warming present.”
I turned, a bit embarrassed. “Oh, I didn’t get anything for you.”
“Oh, you did,” he said, flashing that cheeky smile. “You just don’t know it yet.”
He shoved the bag towards me, and I pulled out a pair of super tight jeans.
“They’re the same ones that girl was wearing in the shop,” he admitted, blushing.
“Girl’s jeans?” I raised an eyebrow, confused.
“Who cares? They’re fuckin’ tight, and I can’t wait to see your ass in them.”
I smiled, feeling the heat rise in my face. “Really?”
“Absolutely. Now, let’s get you into them,” he laughed, eyes sparkling. |
