JUST ROOMMATES
A Beverly Hills 90210 fan fiction by Louie Husted
Windows 95 made Brandon's desktop PC run like a stallion. He sat in the darkness of his upstairs bedroom at Casa Walsh, marveling at the effortless speed his modem and word processor now achieved. It was 11:35 PM on a Friday night in October. Brandon felt a twinge of guilt for skipping Steve's party at the KEG house, but the thought of driving a smashed Donna and Kelly to the Peach Pit for midnight curly fries wasn't appealing tonight. For the last hour he'd attempted to compile his mascot statue proposal for Monday morning's California University student government meeting, but his heart wasn't in it, even with his miraculous software upgrade. In fact, his heart was the last organ he was concerned about. Anonymous pangs of desire teased his body in carefree patterns, increasing in intensity the harder he tried to focus on work. Brandon switched off the monitor and paced his room impatiently. I finally get the place to myself and I'm shooting blanks, he thought. What a drag. His parents Jim and Cindy were in Palm Springs until next Wednesday, and Valerie had taken Dylan to some grunge concert at the Viper Room. They wouldn't be back until late, if at all.
He trudged down to the kitchen and poured himself a Corona with lime, taking it to the living room to distract himself. Fifty-five channels and nothing on. The beer eased blood into his head and relaxed his legs. He halfheartedly stroked his cock through his jeans, staring at the ceiling. First he thought of Emily last summer in San Francisco, then the time he caught Kelly skinny dipping in the pool at the Bel Age Hotel, then kissing Andrea on the mouth the first time he got drunk, then back to Emily. None of them made him unzip and finish. Shooting blanks bro, he thought again, tonight's just not my night. Brandon turned off the TV and stood up in a panic. The washing machine throbbed from the basement, set to the highest speed and load size. It spooked him a little. Not even an L.A. earthquake could have prepared him for what he walked into down there.
Valerie, clad in only a Color Me Badd t-shirt, was perched on the edge of the washing machine, furiously straddling it like a rodeo queen. Her face was sweaty, her neck was flushed and half her hair was pulled up into a messy bun. Their eyes locked in bewilderment as they yelled each other's names in unison. Brandon froze. Valerie quickly shut her legs and pulled strands of hair out of her mouth.
"Have you heard of knocking?" she hissed. Her tone was angry but the sly grin upturning the left side of her wet mouth contradicted it. She dismounted the washing machine and dashed past her roommate as if a firecracker was lit between her buttocks. Brandon, still shellshocked, stood there another minute, maybe five, possibly ten, processing what he just witnessed. Finally he walked across the dim basement and unplugged the washing machine. Its rhythmic vibrations subsided slowly.
"Holy shit," he muttered. He took a deep breath to collect himself, but his knees began to knock violently as the savory scent of Valerie's excitement lingered from the spot where she sat just minutes ago, flooded with pleasure. Earth itself seemed to drop off as he padded up the basement stairs. The kitchen and living room merged in a blur of confusion and adrenaline. Brandon made his way up the main stairwell of his parents' Spanish style split-level, the centerpiece of the entire house. His gaze darted from his bedroom door, to Valerie's across the hall, to the bathroom they shared in between. He swallowed and knocked on hers.
"I'm so sorry Val," he began earnestly, "I had no idea you were here."
Brandon turned to retreat. Her words cut him short.
"Brandon," Valerie teased, her voice slightly muffled, "if you're so sorry, get in here and prove it."
Her room, though dim, was lavishly furnished, a grown woman's boudoir across the hall from his virtually unchanged high school bedroom. He grew self-conscious as he took in her environment, completely forgetting it was his sister Brenda's old room before she'd moved to Europe. He hadn't set foot in here since the night Valerie moved in, when it was just a skyline of cardboard boxes. Even then, his girlfriend hadn't let him stray more than five feet from her side.
"Kelly's not here," Valerie sighed, reading him like a happy hour menu.
She stepped out of the shadows in a black silk kimono, barefoot, her hair down and brushed. Two candles and a stick of incense glowed in the windowsill, and another candle on her nightstand. Her eyes burned with satisfaction at the attention he was finally showing her. The wider she smiled the less he fought back. She reached out and unbuttoned the top of his shirt.
"Val, I had no idea you were such a fan of the... spin cycle."
"There's a lot you don't know about me," she giggled, "I like to have fun, unlike..."
"Hey," he cut her off, "Kelly's just cautious around people she doesn't know. She's just..."
"...a bitch," Valerie said, continuing down his shirt buttons.
He knew she was right. His cock rose to a height it hadn't in months. Valerie went for his belt next. She tugged out of the loops of his jeans with a single flick of the wrist and tossed it on the floor with his shirt, shoes and socks. She winked and turned away, throwing him off. Brandon was overcome with one last flutter of the conscience.
"What are we doing Val," he asked, her back still turned. She was rolling a joint by the window.
"Dude, relax, we're just having fun. You don't have to be Mr. Student Body President here in your, I mean our home. No one's here."
Brandon considered this. His boner didn't budge.
"I thought you were with Dylan tonight," he said.
"I thought you were with him. He canceled on me to go to an AA meeting in Century City. Said he was bringing you."
"Gotta give the guy credit, that's a pretty creative excuse. AA?"
"Yeah. He's so boring lately. That surf betty OD'ing on him shook him up pretty bad. Hey, would you hand me that cigar box on my nightstand?"
Brandon reached for the polished cedar box with gold hinges, a birthday gift to her from Jim and Cindy. He turned to face Valerie and nearly choked.
A vision he never dreamed he'd see, she stood nude and proud before him, breathing steadily. Valerie's breasts were much fuller than he expected, with erect nipples the size of quarters. Her hips were wider and her thighs thicker than he thought they'd be, much to his shock and awe.
"You know, I've put on almost fifteen pounds since I moved to Beverly Hills," she bragged, reading his mind again, rubbing her belly playfully, "so much for borrowing Brenda's old clothes."
"Nat's Megaburgers will do a body good," Brandon mouth-breathed, "sometimes better than good."
"Thanks Brandon," she said, "I thought so too."
He realized he was fully nude, still holding the cigar box like an idiot. Valerie flopped onto her bed and rolled over onto her stomach, displaying her fleshy, heart-shaped ass, her dimpled buttocks rising like two perfectly inflated basketballs.
"In the box," she ordered, "in the little squeeze tube."
Brandon rustled through its contents: assorted condoms and lubes, a rabbit-ear vibrator, nipple clamps, handcuffs, a cock ring, a huge red strap-on and a tube of lotion labeled OH SO FRUITY.
"Oh So Fruity?" he confirmed.
"Mmm-hmmm."
He joined his roommate in bed, propping himself up near her glorious ass. Pink lotion squirted into his palm. He watched her buns ripple softly as he lathered sweet-scented goo over every inch from the top of her crack to the plump folds where her cheeks met her thighs.
"Don't stop there," she cooed, looking over her shoulder at him that same daring half-grin, "go higher."
He dutifully lotioned up her back and arms. Both grew more aroused the harder he rubbed. Tiny contented moans escaped her lips. Sweat doused his forehead. Time disappeared. He kissed her shoulders, nibbled her earlobes and massaged his cock between her inner thighs, which she flexed with authority. Brandon flipped Valerie over. She stared up at him devilishly. She grabbed the joint from her nightstand, lit it with a candle and took a huge pull without coughing. Plumes of smoke drifted to the rafters. She offered it to Brandon but he declined. She shrugged and spread her legs. His eyes descended to her glistening mound, already getting a little workout tonight. His fingers traced her bush.
"I know it's rather baby boomer of me," she laughed, "but I've got a thing for the seventies."
"No, I love it. Looks like a woman, not a little..."
"...bitch," she finished, picturing Kelly's vanilla vagina.
"Right again, Val."
Parting her engorged labia, he slid a finger, then two, then three, inside her. Valerie's eyelids fluttered. She stashed the still-burning joint in her navel and set her hands behind her head as he worked. Brandon stretched his fingers apart and together again slowly, working deeper, up to his knuckles. With his free hand he stroked her beautiful auburn hair, her round, flushed cheek and cupped her left breast, admiring its heft. Valerie reached out and clasped that hand in hers.
"I've wanted this for so long," she whispered, "I know you have too, somehow."
Instead of answering, Brandon plucked the joint from her navel and sucked down the last of it, extinguishing the roach on his tongue before he exhaled.
"Showoff," she laughed, "you're always showing off for me around the others too."
Valerie pulled his fingers from her pussy and sucked each one dry.
"My turn now," she said with suspense in her voice. In seconds she handcuffed Brandon's wrists to her bedposts. She stared hungrily at his erection jutting skyward. He squirmed with excitement. Her unpredictability was druglike. Her fingers formed an OK sign and gripped the base of his shaft, feeling small blue veins throb out of control. She gripped his brash scrotum and examined each nut like a licensed physician.
"Mmmmm," she panted, kneading her palms up and down his cock, loosening and tightening her grip. Brandon had to think about chimps doing dishes to avoid ejaculating, biting his lower lip so hard it nearly bled. His toes curled until they were numb.
"Brandon, what have you been feeding this thing," Valerie asked, dumbfounded at the density of his penis.
"What? How would you know," he replied, not mad but intrigued.
Valerie giggled and jumped off the bed.
"I'll show you," she said with much amusement. Sweaty and bouncing, she walked over to the wall facing their shared bathroom and removed a framed photo of the Hollywood sign. Light from the bathroom poured in through a small peephole. Brandon was speechless.
"It was Brenda's," she laughed, "she carved it when Dylan was living with you guys. Her, Kelly and Donna used to take turns watching him shower. Every girl at West Beverly knew about it! I only discovered it when I moved in. You bet your ass I've watched you. I've even touched myself a few times while I did."
"Jesus Christ, Val," he said, processing more new information, getting even harder, "let's hope it's better than when I sing in there."
"Oh I love the Neville Brothers too," she assured him, hopping back onto the bed, on top of him. She lowered her head and grazed his neck, nipples and torso with her beautiful long hair, teasing his skin, taking control. She flicked her tongue, clockwise and lizardlike around the head of his cock.
"Don't get there yet," she warned.
"I'm trying not to," he promised like a choirboy. Valerie deep-throated Brandon, sucking him furiously yet slowly. Above her, his eyes widened when she stuck a surprise thumb up his ass, setting it afire, a totally different kind of electricity. He couldn't even feel the handcuffs.
"Hard to b-believe that an hour ago w-we were just, oh god, just roommates," he groaned, nearly passing out. He'd never been sucked like this. The room spun. Fascinated, he watched Valerie's head bounce up and down on his cock like a pinball. She reached up and clawed at his heaving chest and abs, leaving play scratches all over his torso. He didn't give a shit. He'd wear turtlenecks for a week. Suddenly she took him out of her mouth and extracted her thumb from his anus with an uncorking sound. Valerie grabbed the key and uncuffed him. He pounced and pinned her down, rubbing his pulsating cock all over her flushed stomach and breasts. He reached for a condom from the open cigar box. She grabbed his wrist.
"It's okay," she whispered, "I have an IUD."
"Can I come in you?"
"You're sweet. Thank you for asking. Yes, you can."
The dance began. Brandon entered Valerie smoothly like a diver into water. Their faces were mere inches from each other, savoring their old friendship transforming before them into something far more beautiful. There was no turning back. Neither wanted to.
They kissed hard and with delight, sucking each other's tongues like candy, giddy they had become lovers. Valerie buried her face in Brandon's shoulder as he thrust deeper and deeper. He felt her stretching and expanding over his cock the harder he rammed his hips. She felt him exploring her walls, searching for her dynamite spot. Sweat rained down her back as he spelunked. She cried out, her lungs swollen with desire. He pulled her hair just hard enough, which encouraged her to slap him around a little, digging her nails into his back. She flipped him down and spun upwards on his cock, shifting her whole body into the reverse cowgirl position, arching her back. He screamed in ecstasy and gripped her hips for the final liftoff. Valerie and Brandon increased their speed and momentum even more. Her fat ass pounded against his pelvis with hypnotic slapping sounds. She steadied herself by grabbing his shins. Every spring in the mattress threatened to give out. They yelled each other's names in unison in a propulsive bookend to the washing machine incident just an hour ago. They bucked up and down like savages, abandoning all pretense, embracing the explosive erotic chaos they were creating. They'd both had plenty of partners but nothing ever felt this crazy and perfect. In and out, side to side, top to bottom, over and under, they pumped ever deeper and came together. Valerie climaxed so big she saw eagles. Brandon came so hard his eyes rolled back white. A biblical earthquake of a shared orgasm rocketed through them in perfect synchronicity. Little aftershocks shuddered through every muscle and nerve ending as they withdrew and collapsed onto the mattress. Crazy and perfect.
Sunlight and birdsong woke Valerie at 6 AM. She smiled sleepily, safe in her bed in her upstairs bedroom at Casa Walsh, on the same quiet and shady street in Beverly Hills. Everything was comfortable familiar... except...!
She rolled over and exhaled with relief. He slept deeply, peacefully. He hadn't abandoned her. She felt safe with Brandon. Burrowing her head into his chest, he opened his eyes slowly and yawned. She loved the way his eyes creased up with that adorable smile, the smile she was now on the receiving end of. She felt her temperature rise and dopamine release in her brain.
"Good morning, roomie," he said softly, leaving a trail of tiny kisses across her forehead, cheeks, nose and neck. The way he kissed her nose was her favorite. Valerie kissed him hard on the mouth before she got up to survey the state of her bedroom. Brandon watched her naked belly quiver with laughter. Her bed had slid forward over two yards, leaving comical streaks on the carpet. A quarter of the mattress hung off her bed frame. Their hair looked like they'd both been electrocuted. His discarded button-up shirt, cargo shorts and boxers on the floor brought back long-forgotten memories of high school. She jokingly set her hands on her hips and turned to him.
"Talk about the West Coast Big One."
Brandon was already dragging the mattress back into place for her.
"No survivors," he chimed.
Valerie pressed play on a her morning mix cassette, an all-acoustic compilation taped off her hometown radio: Mazzy Star, The Reivers, Sade, Smashing Pumpkins. She turned to roll a morning joint at the windowsill, not caring if the neighbors spied her nude. This turned Brandon on like crazy.
"Exhibitionism, eh?"
"Don't knock it 'til you try it!"
"The Daltons across the street are 89 and 92. It's too early for an ambulance. Please Val, think of the Daltons."
Brandon realized how much he loved making her laugh. It was a most rewarding sensation. She finished licking the rolling paper and was about to light up before he forcefully spanked her naked butt, causing her to drop the joint. She bent over slowly on purpose to pick it up. Valerie tucked the joint behind her ear and leapt back into bed, smacking him with her pillow. They play-wrestled a bit but calmed down. She spotted his erection raising a tent in the sheet.
"Not yet," she said, her tone shifting, "please, just hold me for a while."
Brandon's face and cock softened.
"Of course, baby," he reassured her as he wrapped his warm, toned arms around her. She wondered if he realized he'd called her baby. Brandon adored the way the brazen sexuality in her face gave way to sweetness and vulnerability. He held her closer. She fell apart softly in his arms. His heart spun and her body slackened. He kissed away her tears.
"Think about us," she said brokenly, "we're not from Beverly Hills. We'll always be outsiders no matter how much we fit in. Minneapolis and Buffalo, you and me."
He held her head protectively.
"I know, Val. Since we were twelve years old. That's something they'll never share. Steve, David, Andrea, Dylan, Donna..."
He trailed off. They both knew who he'd left out. The big, blonde elephant in the room.
"She's kept us apart. She knows she's doing it, and you don't. But I'm not blaming you at all, Brandon."
"Oh Val, I won't let Kelly hurt you."
Valerie winced at the sound of her name.
"I have an ego, I know I do," she choked between sobs, "everyone thinks I'm this ruthless Buffalo gal. But Brandon, I just want a friend. A family. Someone from home. The others have been really hard on me since I moved out here. I didn't mean to burn Steve."
"I know you didn't. He was the last thing you needed to deal with after..."
He trailed off again, angry with himself for bringing it up. It was a haunting scene he'd played over and over again in his head: Mr. Malone putting both barrels of a shotgun in his mouth, less than six months ago. Mrs. Malone downing Xanax and vodka, passed out in her convertible. Valerie kissed him again.
"It's alright. I had no choice but to move. But you and your parents are really all I have."
She smiled with wet, bloodshot eyes.
It slipped out.
"I love you, Val."
"I love you too, Brandon. I need you so bad. I'm still just a shell."
"I'm not going anywhere. I need you too. Whatever... this is."
"We don't have to define it. We were like siblings, then we were close friends, and now... something."
"I haven't lived in the moment for years. I've never stopped to appreciate anyone or anything. Until now."
They smiled at each other, finishing the conversation with their eyes.
Then they made love.