WaffleLover123

Cole had always known that his flatmates were weird. It had been the very first thing he learned about them when he moved in the previous year. Darryl, the handsome, charismatic brunet who owned the apartment, had made it very clear in the listing: “Wanted: chill tenant who’s ok with intense tickling around the house. Participation not required (but encouraged).” If Cole had bothered checking out the apartment at all, it was because it was uncannily cheap for its location, square footage and amenities – probably a consequence of the owner specifying something that potentially off-putting in the listing. “I don’t like wasting my time,” the rich hottie told Cole after the latter enquired about that commercially-unsavvy move. The guy’s confidence despite his public kink (though Cole had thought it only a quirk before moving in) was enthralling. Cole wished he knew what he liked half as well, and that he could be a quarter as unapologetic about it. It was probably Darryl’s influence, but