Apocalypse: Bonded to My Zombie Roommate

Finn’s pov

"Go on, Finn. If you don't get turned on by any of the male dancers, you can have your car back."

I glared at Leo, my jaw tight. "This is completely absurd. I’m not getting turned on by a guy. They’re men, Leo. I’m definitely not gay."

"Then it should be easy money, shouldn't it?" Leo smirked, twirling my car keys around his index finger. "Otherwise, I keep the Mustang for the rest of the semester."

My mind immediately flashed to Karl. My useless, soft-spoken roommate who didn't even try to hide the fact that he liked guys. Just thinking about him made my stomach turn. I am definitely not like that freak.

"Fine," I snapped, snatching at the air, but Leo pulled the keys back with a chuckle.

"Prove it first," my other friend, Marcus, said, slapping my shoulder. "Let's go inside."

They shoved me toward the heavy double doors of Velvet, a local gay club downtown. I took a deep breath and walked in with a heavy sigh.

The moment the doors opened, bass hit my chest so hard my teeth rattled. Blinking neon lights slashed through the dark, smoky air, illuminating bodies dancing everywhere. My eyes adjusted, and I instantly froze. Half-naked men were on stage, on tables, and hanging from poles, wearing nothing but tiny leather shorts and harnesses.

I shook my head, my face twisting in disgust. Freaks. Every single one of them.

"I need a drink first," I muttered to Marcus, heading straight for the long, polished bar in the back.

Even the bartender was practically naked, wearing a bowtie, leather straps across his chest, and nothing else above his waist. I rolled my eyes, sliding onto a stool.

"What can I get you, handsome?" the bartender asked, flashing a practiced smile.

"Whiskey. Neat," I said flatly, keeping my eyes fixed straight ahead.

He poured the amber liquid and slid the glass over. I grabbed it, taking a long, burning gulp. With the glass held tight in my hand, I turned around to face the club floor.

Everyone had masks on. Venetian masks, leather domino masks, metallic visors. You couldn't tell who was who under the flashing purple and red lights. I swallowed another sip of whiskey, suddenly feeling exposed. I should’ve brought a damn mask too.

I took a few steps into the crowd, looking for a dancer just to get this stupid bet over with. Before I could even pick one out, a slim figure stepped directly into my path.

He wore a dark, lace-trimmed mask covering the upper half of his face, leaving only a sharp jawline and smooth lips visible. His body was lean, his skin glowing faintly under the strobe lights.

"Looking for some company?" the dancer asked. His voice was a low, smooth purr, almost completely drowned out by the heavy music.

I cleared my throat, trying to sound completely indifferent. "Are you available?"

The dancer smiled, revealing neat white teeth. "For you? Absolutely."

"Private room," I added quickly, not wanting my friends watching me get a lap dance from a guy. "Let's make it private."

"Follow me," he said. He reached out, his fingers surprisingly cool as he took my hand, dragging me through the chaotic crowd and down a dimly lit hallway.

We stopped in front of a heavy wooden door. The dancer opened it, stepping aside to usher me in. The private room was small, dimly lit with soft red neon, and furnished with just a plush leather armchair and a small side table.

The moment the door clicked shut behind us, the muffled bass from the main floor softened, replaced by a slow, heavy rhythm coming from a speaker in the corner.

The dancer didn't waste any time. He took my hand again, his touch light as he pulled me toward the armchair.

"Sit," he murmured.

I sat down, keeping my back straight and my glass of whiskey balanced on my knee.

The dancer stepped into the center of the small room. He began to move, his hips swaying seamlessly to the slow beat of the song. His body moved with an effortless, fluid rhythm that made it impossible to look away.

Wow... I thought, my eyes wide. He dances even better than my favorite female dancer at the strip club.

A second later, panic hit me and I scolded myself harshly. Shut up! What the hell are you saying? He’s a guy!

The dancer took a step closer, breaking my train of thought. He turned his back to me, bending low, before slowly easing himself down onto my lap.

My immediate instinct was to shove him off, to stand up and walk out. But then I pictured Leo holding my car keys, and I forced myself to stay completely still.

The dancer began to twist and whine his hips against mine, moving with a agonizingly slow precision. I held my breath, staring straight ahead at his masked profile.

Without breaking his movement, he reached down, took the glass of whiskey out of my hand, and set it on the small side table. Then, he grabbed both of my hands and guided them to his bare waist.

His skin was smooth, warm, and soft. My fingers involuntarily tightened around his waist, my hands moving on instinct to match the hypnotic rhythm of his hips.

He leaned back against my chest, his head resting near my shoulder as he started grinding down against me, harder and slow.

I tried to focus on something else. I tried to think about my car, about school, about literally anything else. But the heat of his body was suffocating. His hips kept rolling against mine, deliberate and relentless.

And then, to my absolute horror, I felt a sudden, heavy throb between my legs.

My breath hitched in my throat. Down below, right where his hips were pressing into me, my dick was slowly getting hard.

No, no, no…I'm not gay, I like women, breasts and shit…