The mind of a fatboy

Chapter 2 - Enzo and Reese

Enzo chose well. He chose so... so fucking well. He knew when he walked in that door, lingering and staring like his thunderous footsteps fell on deaf ears. The scent of Reese's neutral, vaguely oceanic perfume rushed to Enzo's nostrils like a gentle breeze.

In that brief moment's embrace, they looked picture-perfect. Reese was the tight shirt to Enzo's tight pants, the latter's firmish belly pressed against the vague set of abs he couldn't wait to melt into a huge, overflowing gut. He immediately noticed, covertly peering over Reese's shoulder, the solid and shapely set of glutes on the twink's rear. They complemented his enviable waist nicely. It was so small, and Enzo almost thought he would break him if it wasn't for the apparently muscle that covered his form. He was still so small.

Enzo already knew the guy was somewhat of a gym rat. When you're looking for a roommate, you stalk their socials. It's not crazy, it's just a protective measure. He was cocky, from all the barely-clothed photos posted onto his account. Speedos, tight tees, tailored shorts that showed off the masculine parts of his figure and teased the curvier parts. And, notably, no hint of a partner. No, every over-the-top caption, every post revealing more and more of his tight, little ass and modestly-toned biceps only painted a clearer picture of a man desperate for a man to claim it. To claim him.

He had these big, chocolate eyes outlined with two long, dainty sets of eyelashes. His lips were full, forming a permanent pout that gave his well-kept, smouldering look the finish it needed. He longed so primally to run a hand through his short, delicate, curly locks while locking lips. His hair was steeped in a deep layer of brown that paired with his twinkling gaze like a fine wine, of which Enzo was sure to offer a glass of on their inaugural night as roommates.

He was of notably darker complexion, likely by a combination of genetics and plentiful time outside. By their few conversation prior to his first and only tour of the place, he was at least partly Latin. With that bottom half, Enzo was certainly inclined to believe it.

And Enzo knew he wasn't Reese's type, at least not yet. He'd spare the lengths of the actual internet stalking he went to, but a slightly more filled-out man like himself wouldn't exactly have fared well with him out at a bar in the wild. Though Reese wouldn't dare say it, Enzo was fat. Gay guy fat, that is.

Enzo's dyed sandy blonde hair, neat but with a bit of disarray to it, was an almost identical shade to the other man's last three exes. It was clear Reese went through them faster than Enzo could run to the grocery store to grab a bottle of dye. Reese was going to fall for him anyway, but he would at least perform that small courtesy. And, hey, it didn't look half bad with the contrast against his darker brows and the bit of facial scruff he'd made his signature.

But enough of that. Enzo showed him to his room, which he had of course already inspected when he signed the lease. It was expected for him to be so inwardly skeptical of the place, especially with the prices at which apartments in the city go for. And, he had to say, tight-ass Reesie was lucky to be cuter than all the other pieces that came to tour...

The hardest part was looking at Reese then, so gaunt and stick-thin, not even knowing how full Enzo was about to make his life.