Anton had come a long way. He was a man whore at the beginning of this fateful day. He was titled a slut, albeit for a good cause, but he was a slut nonetheless.

But he’s had a change of heart. He thinks it’s because you’re such a pretty sleeper. Your normally furrowed eyebrows smoothed out, the tension you perpetually held across your body eased. One final gentle breath turned to a quiet snore as you laid out across his chest. You even let out little sighs as you sluggishly adjusted yourself on Anton’s body.

Anton realized while looking at you that this was the idyllic life Sohee had told him about. Everything he told Anton about making sure he was the one that was there for his girlfriend all made sense. You were in bed knowing that he was there, sleeping against him like you needed him. Whenever you would snuggle closer into him he found himself no longer thinking about other girls. The self-appointed mission became irrelevant. Everything was in his peripheral because he was looking straight at you. If he hadn’t proved himself to you, you wouldn’t have told him thank you so earnestly. He only wanted to keep looking at you as you sleep blissfully.

So in that moment he retired from the cause. He hung his metaphorical hat and was officially through with his journey of closing the orgasm gap on campus. As his dick finally got soft enough to slip out of you he set out on another mission; to become the man you deserved. He would be loyal, he wouldn’t exploit your inexperience for his selfish desires, and he wouldn’t subject you to wondering how he felt about you ever again. He decided that you would never declare him an asshole ever again, that he would be the charming and kind sweetheart that he knew he could be.

He looked out your window to the setting Sun and rubbed your back gently. Everything about you was so soft. You stirred only for a moment to cuddle further into him. He smiled to himself and then looked at your serene face. When he saw a small smile subconsciously etch across your face he smiled even bigger. He was careful not to wake you as he shifted you to the side of his body. You only whined and Anton found himself instinctually kissing your damp forehead. He can’t believe you tuckered yourself out so quickly. He even felt selfish for being so alert. Like he was the reason you fucked yourself to sleep on him, even if he was no more than a toy. He was used for all but five minutes and you were already deep in sleep to snore. 

Anton has been in this situation before. Some girls went to sleep after having sex, the post-orgasm bliss lulling them into a catnap. When this would happen he’d quietly show himself out. He would tidy up any mess he made and leave without a trace. On the rare occasion that they’d ask Anton where he went he would sheepishly say he didn’t want to invade their space. 

But the mere thought of leaving your side made Anton’s heartache. He was still lingering on the lines of your face, only breaking away to kiss your forehead again. He pressed his lips to your skin for more than a minute, he even pulled you closer while he did it. Your body was heavy from sleep but you were pliant in his arm, body curling up to his as he held you close. He let your body go back to its previous position and he was slow as he took the slimy latex off his dick. He held his breath as he pulled his arm out from under you and eased himself out of your bed.

Instead of leaving like previous-Anton would’ve done, he put his shirt and boxers back on and slid into bed with you like he belonged there. You instantly started cuddling with him like he was supposed to be here. Your body was warm, and when Anton pulled your covers over you both he got a waft of your smell. He was eventually lulled to sleep too, feeling so calm he couldn’t stop himself from pulling you closer and letting his eyes close. Anton took the heavy drowsiness across his body as a sign to let himself fall asleep.

Anton woke up in the middle of the night to you moving beside him. He opened his eyes slightly to see you getting up from the bed and heard the creak in the mattress from the shift in your body weight. He closed his eyes again when he felt your absence from the bed. 

He listened to you walking around your room. He heard the sound of a lamp turning on and could see the light bleed past his eyelids. After hearing you pace around he felt a dip in the edge of the mattress beside him where you were sitting. Anton could feel your eyes on him, it was the same concentrated look he received in the library. 

After a moment he let his eyes flutter open, and he caught you still looking at him intensely. 

The air between you two was tense. Neither of you reacted, you didn’t look away and neither did Anton. He couldn’t tell what you were thinking. You reached out and touched his clothed chest. He reached out and touched the bottom of a large shirt you slipped back on at some point.

“You didn’t cum, did you?” you asked.

Anton debated on lying. He’s done it before, and he has faked it completely a few times. You just seemed so sad when you asked the question, like you were disappointed. You held your breath and hesitated when you asked it, too. Anton couldn’t handle being the reason you were doing a nervous tick, or that you were having thoughts of inadequacy. 

“I didn’t.” Anton shifted on the bed when you turned away from him. He pulled on your shirt slightly to get you to look at him again. “but that doesn’t matter to me,” he assured.

He was telling the truth. He was more than satisfied being your living, breathing toy. He already feels a rush remembering how you looked above him. Your eyes were trained on the bend of your elbow for the most of it, but there were moments where you looked down at him and he was lucky enough to catch your eye. You were hot all over, your skin wet to the touch. He was amazed that you ended up getting so warm so fast, and that you were squeezing him so tight. He existed for your pleasure, to heighten it. He wanted to cater to you. Not finishing didn’t feel like a shortcoming because it wasn’t necessarily his goal. He was satisfied seeing your flushed skin and feeling your walls pulse around his dick as you let out weak whimpers.

He thinks he could cum without being touched if he replayed the sounds you made when you were on top of him enough times. When you thanked him; all he would need is for you to just say it one more time.

But you scoffed like you didn’t believe him. You looked away and Anton still felt the need to prove himself to you. He was still a sweetheart, but for you and you alone.

“I really don’t mind,” he says.

Anton watched you turn his body towards him but still avoid his gaze. He could feel your embarrassment, see the hesitation in the way you messed with the bottom hem of your shirt.

“We’ve done this twice,” you say.

Anton nods. He can’t stop himself from smiling that he’s gotten so lucky twice.

“I feel like at this point I’m using you a little bit,” you laugh dryly. You still mess with the bottom hem of your shirt as you speak, and each effort Anton makes to look at you is thwarted by your wandering eyes. “I just have you come over to get off.”

“I really don’t mind,” Anton says truthfully.

“I know you don’t,” you say.

Both you and Anton sat in silence. He let you look around, mess with your shirt and your arm and tap your feet on the ground. He let you go through the motions, biting his tongue so he wouldn’t lament how fine he was with your current situation. If anything, he wanted more of it. He wanted it to keep happening.

“I wanna try something,” you say. 

Anton is nodding before you can even finish. You finally meet his eye, tilting your head a little bit. Anton sees you try to emulate the saccharine tone you’ve seen in all the pornos. Instead of leaning close and asking you a question that will get you to squirm away he nods slowly, trying to goad you on.

“Can I try it on you?” you ask.

Anton is fully sitting up on your bed now. He feels the excitement before he knows exactly what you’re proposing. 

He reaches towards you but you’re standing up from your bed, right next to the mattress. You point to your chair, neatly pushed underneath your desk.

“Sit down in the chair,” Anton is sitting against your bed frame, eyes wide and lips parted. When he takes to long he sees you get nervous again, looking down before you motion to the chair. “please,” you add.

Anton is fast pulling himself out of the bed. He’s even faster to sit down on your chair even in just his boxers and shirt, looking up at you still standing next to your bed. His hands go down his thighs, ending at the knee before he goes to your armrests.

“Is this what you wanted?” he asks.

You don’t answer him. You completely submit speaking, instead you take slow steps towards him, your bare feet passing against your hardwood floor. Anton grips the armrests a little tighter.

He sees how slow and hesitant you are. He knows it would be easy to exploit that, to feed off your own anxiety. He could smirk up at you, or widen his legs mockingly. Or he could scoot to the back of the chair and look up to you with big worried eyes and ask if he’s doing this right.

But he’s retired from the cause. Even though he’s seen that look enough to know what you’re thinking about doing to him. He won’t make fun of you, or force you to vocalize them either. He has never wanted anything in return from girls but seeing you walk over to him in just a big shirt and underwear he feels the adrenaline pumping through his veins.

When you’re close enough that he has to look up he holds the armrest so desperately to stop himself from reaching towards you. 

Instead of crawling on top of him you press your legs against his knees. Anton is hesitant to spread them, so hesitant you have to put your hands on his knees and part them yourself. Anton feels his thighs stretch, and he instinctively goes to the edge of his seat.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

The question rages in his mind when he sees you slowly sink down to your knees. Anton follows your head as you go lower and lower, until you kneel and then both of your knees are pressed into your floor.

“Just wanna try something,” you answer quietly, staring between his legs. “I’ve never done it before.”

He wasn’t completely sure what to make of your demeanor. You were nervous, that he knew. Your hand was hesitant going over the plaid fabric of his boxers. You started off by pinching the fabric, then a heavy hand that turned light as you got closer and closer to where he was starting to ache.

He wanted to ask if you were scared of his dick. He would’ve replaced the word with it and then emphasize that you had only seen it in a dimly lit room before it was inside of you. You haven’t been face to face with ti before, and part of Anton wanted to remind you of that.

But he let himself fall privy to the calculating looks you were giving him before. Your eyes were large, not just from anxiety, but like you were watching him. Each move you made triggered a quick glance up towards him. When he took it upon himself to sigh lightly after your hand grazed over the bulge again, you gaze instantly shot up to his face.

He only moved when you did it first. He settled a little more into his seat and you were getting comfortable on your haunches. Your eyes kept flickering up towards him, and you ran your hand a little heavier over his bulge. His knuckles almost turned a ghostly pale from how tight he was holding the leather cushions of the armrests.

Anton knew the implication of you between his legs. He was fully expecting you to ride him in his chair, but your reaction to him not finishing was what set you on this current mission. You were bold enough to gauge for his reactions, driven by some sort of need to serve him how he’s served you. He let out another sigh and leaned a little more in the chair. He felt you scoot closer to his body on your knees, rocking the chair slightly with your movements. Anton dared to look down at you when he felt your other hand press into his inner thigh.

“You’re not just making those sounds for me, right?” you asked.

Anton shook his head looking at your pout. He already felt the sweat dotting his hairline.

“I just want you to know I like what you’re doing for me,” he said gently. He even reached a hand forward to cup your chin. “I’m happy with anything.”

“I know you are,” you said, almost mockingly. 

Anton can’t help himself. He felt himself throb at your determination, how you were a little bit upset at his indifference to not finishing. Anton knows the attitude is a product of you trying to get your nerves up, the same way you were rubbing your hands up and down his thighs. Anton’s leg tapped each time you got close to his crotch, and he hoped you were feeling up to, at the very least, looking at his dick. 

Despite barely being able to take him a few hours ago you already were rubbing your hands up and down his legs in an attempt to get your nerves up. 

Anton watched you hesitate, then bring your head to rest right where his boxers began on his thigh. Anton took a chance to scoot closer to the edge of his seat. The fabric of his boxers pressed a little tighter to his body. His bulge was more obvious now, and he saw you focus completely on him. 

Because of your trepidation, Anton is dedicated to seeming as nonthreatening as possible. He tries his best to not be wooed by your hesitation, despite the churn in his gut at the sight of you lifting your head from his thigh slightly.

“You’re so pretty,” he says gently.

Anton watched you shy away at the compliment. He twitched in his boxers when you smiled slightly, head still resting on his thigh. You peered up at him, he didn’t know if you were trying to look so flirtatious.

“Thank you,” you say. Your hand draws a delicate pattern on the soft skin of his inner thigh “I’m sure you tell everyone that, though.”

Anton shakes his head. Before he can tell you that he’s changed, your hand reaches through the flap of fabric through his boxers. Your soft hand wraps around his dick completely and tactfully pulls it out. Anton gasps and stiffens in his chair immediately seeing your hand wrapped around the base.

You freeze too. You look up at him and seem apologetic.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

Anton shakes his head. Nothing was wrong, but he was expecting a little more hesitancy. You didn’t waste any time giving him an experimental stroke that made him lift from his seat slightly. You were looking up at him, repeating the same motion just to see him do it again.

“Nothing’s wrong,” he answered.

He let out a quiet breath, widening his legs a little more. Instantly you were scooting closer, and Anton could feel himself getting pulled into the seat. His implication of a reputation made it so he didn’t receive much. He didn’t complain, he figured that asking girls for head or handjobs kind of took away from his grand mission. 

But you wanted to do this. You were alternating between his dick and his face, moving your hand in the same motion over and over again. Both of you watched precum bead at his tip, both of you watched your hand collect it on the way down. He didn’t know you knew how to tease him when your soft thumb massaged the sensitive underside. Anton had to look away from you learning about him. He leaned his head against the back of the office chair, letting his head tilt from side to side.

“Feels so good,” Anton whispered.

You nodded and moved your face closer. He moved his hands underneath his shirt quick to rest over his tensed and clammy stomach. Anton knew distracting his hands would stop him from greedily touching your head or hair, or holding your shoulder to keep you in place. He wants you to do everything you want to do to him on your own volition. 

Anton feels you try different grips on him. A little tighter, a little loose. You go to his tip again and haphazardly spread his precum over the sensitive skin. Anton couldn’t stop himself from twitching upwards into your hand. He knows he’s your test subject. He’s careful to not do anything suddenly, instead letting you get used to all of him. He feels you rest your check on his inner thigh again. 

He digs his fingers into his stomach when he looks down.

You’re so pretty, leaned against him watching your hand and his dick get harder. Anton wants to tell you the pleasure is almost painful, and having you so close hurts.

“How should I do it?” you ask.

Despite barely being able to take him a few hours ago, you ask the question without pausing once. Your eyes flick up to his and he feels his body warm with excitement. His face becomes especially warm, and he finds himself looking away while he tries to articulate his answer.

“Let me take off my boxers first,” he says.

Anton sits up in his chair and you both reach for his waistband at the same time. He pushes and you pull, and his hard dick goes through the fly of his boxers again before smacking against his shirt. He’s still hard, even more now because you’re clearing your throat and scraping your nails lightly against his legs.

You take him in your hand again. You look up and Anton nods encouragingly, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. You jerk him off with the perfect amount of force, a little slow to build the tension. Anton can’t tell if this is beginners luck or if his body is already accustomed to you. Still, he understands the weight of the situation. He clears his throat and puts his hands in the gap between his tailbone and the back of the chair.

“If you don’t like it, or can’t take it—”

“You think I can’t take it?” you interrupt.

Anton wants to whine when your hand abruptly stops. He pitifully moves in your chair again, his body following after the previous motions of your hand.

Quickly he’s shaking his head, nails digging into his palm.

“No,” Anton stammers, pushing his hips up so his dick goes through your fisted hand again. He’s grateful you’re so focused on him that you don’t see how pitiful he’s become. “I just want you to know that there’s no pressure here or anything.”

“I know,” you say. “you’re only here because I asked you to be.”

He doesn’t know if it’s because his mind is operating at half its regular speed, but he caught a hint of bitterness in your tone. But he also liked the implication that he will always be there when you call. You didn’t have to put on that act of asking for help to get him to come over. He needs to tell you that he’s a changed man now. He won’t leave your dorm and try to sleep with anyone else. This is it for him, he’s convinced.

Instead, he nods his head until you go back to only looking at his dick.

“Just take it slow,” Anton says quietly. 

“Okay,” you say quietly.

He’s hot all over. He can’t take his shirt off because he doesn’t want to seem too big. He’s already at a disadvantage, because your body is between his muscular legs and he must look bigger from down where you’re kneeled. His oversized shirt does help him seem smaller, the way he melts into the chair relinquishes his control. He’s sweating everywhere, but he will just have to bear it. 

When your warm breath fans his flushed dick he thinks he’s going to burst into flames. He doesn’t know if he looking down at you when you’re like this makes you nervous, but he can’t resist. He can’t look away when he sees your mouth get closer to his dick.

“Maybe just try licking it,” Anton quietly suggests.

He was already weak. When you ignored his request and instead took his entire tip into your warm mouth he nearly melted out of his seat. Your plump lips wrapped around him tight. You were so soft around him that it took his breath away. His hands went from behind his back to gripping the armrests of the chair.

“God,” he breathed out.

You readjusted yourself on your knees, pressing one of your warm hands to the inside of his thigh and the other to wrap around the root of his dick. Anton looked up when he felt your wet tongue run over his slit. You work further down and he extends his legs, trying to find some sense of stability. 

This was moving too fast. Anton prided himself in having endurance during moments like these. He could go for hours and for multiple rounds without breaking a sweat. He knew he was able to go all night, but the way you worked further down made that tension twist in his body. You pulled your head up, and he watched you wipe the spit on your lips with the back of your hand. 

“You can stop if you want,” Anton says weakly.

He failed at adding bass to his voice. He sat up slightly in the chair through the overwhelming sensitivity. He finally put a gentle hand on your shoulder, ready to push you back if you tried coming close again. His balls were already tight, he was getting even harder in your hands even without you moving. He thinks if you even touch him anywhere else he’d finish immediately. 

“Do you want me to stop?” you ask.

Your voice is hoarse and the words come through puffy lips. Anton doesn’t know how he’s able to see something so beautiful. His dick twitches in your hands and he has to fight himself to not lean back in the seat.

He should nod his head. Give some sort of excuse like he’s given other girls when he’s had to leave. But your eyes are still hungry, looking up at him like you’re gauging his reactions.

“I really want you to keep going,” he answers truthfully.

He was fully convinced he was going to nod his head. In his mind he was very dedicated to you not putting in any more work. Your lips were already swollen and drool seeped from the corner of your lips. He saw that your eyes were a little teary too, and your eyelashes were clumped together from it. 

But when he looked at you and felt your hand give his still pulsing dick a delicate pump, he couldn’t help himself. He was answering with a weak voice while readjusting himself in his seat.

“Please don’t stop,” he said.

You didn’t say another word before wrapping your lips around his tip again. He tilted his hips upwards into your mouth, and kept a hand on your shoulder. He didn’t pull or push but he did squeeze. Each time he felt the pressure building up he clasped his hand. The motion helped pull him from the edge. Each time he heard you make a noise from the back of your throat or put a warm hand on his thigh his grip pulsed. He could see his fingers digging into your shirt. He wanted to ask if he was hurting you but the only thing he could manage when he opened his mouth were broken moans and tiny cries.

You brought your head up to focus on his tip. He felt the wet pressure and your tongue swiping across the sensitive skin. Your hand was completely slick from all the spit and precum. There was no resistance as you worked your hand up and down his dick. 

Anton watched the flick in your wrist, how you changed the position of your arm to get a better angle. Anton didn’t know what to do with the view. You went further than before, looking up at him through watery eyes like you wanted approval. If he could vocalize properly he would’ve told you that you were doing so well. He’s never felt like this before or gotten close to the peak so fast. 

When you gag again his hand goes so tight on your shoulder you look up at him. Your eyes that focused solely on his happy trail or your hand on his thigh finally peaked upwards at him. The sight made Anton tilt his head back to focus on your ceiling. He could feel his throat tighten.

“I’m close,” he croaked.

He said it as a warning. If he kept squeezing your shoulder he was sure he’d hurt you. Anton gripped his dick at the base, eclipsing your hand. Instead of pulling you closer or holding onto your shoulder he tries to push, because his warning didn’t seem to get through to you. Despite the panic in his voice you continue with the same speed, sucking and licking and bobbing your head.

“Baby,” he whines. “I said I’m really close.”

You only continue. He gets quick peaks of your face but a majority of his view is the back of your head as you go through the motions even faster. You hummed something that caused a jolt to go through his body. Your hand that was gripping his knee goes between his legs. Anton feels your soft hand massage his balls, and a cry rips through his throat. 

His sound bounces off your walls. He prays that your neighbors are sleeping. He can’t hold anything back when he leans in the seat to get a better look at your face. You’re too beautiful. Cheeks hollowed, eyes bleary. Your eyebrows are pulled together too as you focus. You take quick peaks up towards him and Anton bites his lip so hard he thinks it might bleed. 

Anton feels you pull in against his push. You take him as far as you can. He can feel your throat tighten around his dick, and he pulses when you gag. Anton can feel even more mess, dribbling from your mouth and going down your chin. The mess makes your fingers wet, and he can feel it on his thigh too. 

You pull back completely and Anton feels relief in regaining the slightest bit of control. It all burns up when he looks down at you and sees you lick your lips.

Your eyes focus on him for a moment, the hunger making them seem completely black. He doesn’t realize he was holding his breath until your attention goes back to his dick. He was nearly shaking and his hand is still clutching your shoulder for dear life. But it doesn’t matter. It’s your hand that goes to his dick, collecting all the spit and precum to aid your movements.

The moment of composure is burnt up in seconds. He leans forward, grip becoming bruising on your shoulder. You don’t stop, your soft grip becoming tighter and tighter as you pick up the speed. The slick sounds fill his ears, your almost desperate stare as you look between him and his dick. 

“Baby please,” he begs.

“Are you close?” you ask.

Anton slouches towards you, head nodding pathetically as you refuse to  stop. The hair that’s not stuck to his forehead cascades down the sides of his face, narrowing his view. He gets tunnel vision, it’s just you and him and his dick throbbing uncontrollably because of you.

“Really close,” he whimpers. “I can’t hold it much longer.”

He really has changed. He’s never lacked as much control as he has in this moment. His entire body tightens, a thin layer of sweat appears over every inch of skin. Anton brings his head back down to look at you. He fully expected you to finally detach from him, to push yourself away by the hand you had gently clasped around his balls. He expected his hand over yours would cease your movements. 

But you didn’t pull back, you didn’t ease up in the slightest. Anton’s hand over yours didn’t stop yours from moving. You leaned in close to watch. You were looking between his dick and his face, and Anton felt his cheeks get hot. You bit your lip and Anton has to stop himself from putting a shaking leg around your body to bring you impossibly closer. You seemed to read his mind because you came in closer, wrapping your lips around his tip and suckling. 

Anton’s protest about not wanting to finish in your mouth only comes out in whimpers and groans. He was planning on pulling out of your mouth and cumming pitifully in his palm while repeating your name and telling you thank you. He ended up instead holding your shoulder the tightest he’s ever had while his balls tensed.

One final moan was punched out of his gut before the tension across his body finally snapped. Against everything he felt himself spill into your mouth in thick uncontrolled spurts. He could barely apologize through the broken whines and the shaking in his legs. Before he squeezed his eyes shut he watched you pause for a split second and your eyes go wide before continuing to work your hand faster. Anton couldn’t stop giving you more and more, until he was so drained he slouched even further.

He was breathing like he had run a mile. His entire body was stiff, his muscles cramping as he winced through all the sensations.

“I’m sorry,” Anton heaved as you looked at you. 

He was still catching his breath when he saw the pearly white remnants on the corner of your lips. His mouth was agape, he swallowed thickly and tried his best to not get so wound up again.

“I should’ve stopped you,” he says.

He melts down from the chair to sit on shaking legs beside you. He wipes away everything that dribbled past your lips, wiping it on his shirt.

“I didn’t wanna stop,” you say.

When you speak Anton sees that there’s not a trace of it in your mouth. He forces himself to believe that he shot blanks because reality would be too much for his poor, newly-devoted heart to take. He just smiles and brings your head close with a gentle hand to kiss your forehead. He kisses your temples next, then your cheeks, lines from one side of your chin until he lands a kiss right on your lips. 

He still feels twitchy when he pulls away and sees you looking at him.

“Did you enjoy it?” you ask.

“Yeah,” Anton smiles and nods. “did you?”

You nod, wiping your mouth with your own hand before looking down nervously. Anton feels the emotion too, his cheeks flushing again remembering how he was acting a few minutes prior. 

You stand up from beside him and Anton bends his neck to follow you. He watches you adjust your shirt and your shorts. 

Just like nothing happened you go back to fixing things around your room. Anton at some point swept some things from your desk. He tries to pick it up for you but you’re faster. He’s still impacted by his orgasm, he’s a little sluggish and has to lean on your chair for support when he gets back up. You zip around your room, not looking at him. He thinks about what to say. Before he would’ve teased you for avoiding eye contact and acting like he’s not in the room. Now, he’s antsy too, teetering around your room while you smooth out the sheets on your bed.

There’s silence. You continue smoothing out the same spot on your comforter, despite it being pressed flat without a single crease.

Anton takes it as his cue to leave. He looks for his pants on your floor, and is walking around your room like he could be kicked out any second.

“You know,” you start.

Anton stops and looks at you. He can only see your back from the way you’re turned, hands gently pressing into your comforter. 

“We could do something like this again,” you say, still looking at your sheets. “I enjoy our time together.”

Anton feels himself perk up. He has a shy smile that isn’t a lie and the hand that goes to the back of his head isn’t a facade.

“I enjoy our time together too,” he said. “I think we should actually spend more time together.”

You turn and lean your body against your bed. He doesn’t know why you look confused.

“Your other girls wouldn’t mind?” you ask.

Anton is shaking his head fast.

“No other girls,” he answers quickly.

“Oh. Okay,” you say. Your hands on your thighs are gentle, the same way they were around his dick. “well. I’ll call you, yeah?”

“Yeah, that’d be great,” Anton says. “I’ll be there. Whenever.” 

You nod again, and Anton melts from your smile. He watches you saunter across your room to the connecting bathroom.

“I’m gonna brush my teeth then go to bed,” you say.

You raise your eyebrows and Anton understands. He’s been delicately kicked out of places before. Anton grabs his pants and pulls them up his legs quick. He grabs his bag, everything that’s his and walks past you to your door. 

“I’ll see you in class,” he says with a smile.

“Yeah,” you say. “I’ll see you in class.”

Anton left your dorm before you went in the bathroom. He heard the gentle sound of the lock turning in place and couldn’t stop the smile from beaming across his face. He felt relieved and content, he didn’t mind what hour it was when he headed towards the exit.

Anton was not quiet going into his room. He was on cloud nine, and that made him a terrible roommate. He was practically levitating from your dorm to his. He didn’t know what time it was when he let the door close behind him. He barely remembered to turn the dead bolt, letting the lock click in place obnoxiously.

He turned on the lights to the entryway and unloaded his backpack onto the pegged rack by the front door. He walked through the room like he was drunk, a bleary smile and a grin ear to ear. He kicked off his shoes, the thick rubber soles making contact with the wooden floors.

He sauntered across the dimly lit space of his room. He made a beeline to Sohee’s lofted bed. 

“Sohee,” he whispered playfully.

When he finally made it to Sohee’s bed he stood there for a moment. The silence filled the air, Anton leaned close to the pile of covers that was his roommates body. He was still grinning ear to ear. 

“Sohee,” he said quietly.

The mess of hair peaking from the covers didn’t budge at all. Anton leaned a little forward, blowing air directly onto Sohee’s head. He watched his hairs part from the current, then he saw a small movement. He chased after the movement with his fingers, poking the comforter gently.

“Sohee,” he repeated. “wake up.”

His body moved underneath the covers. He heard a groan, then more shifting. He heard a body turning, then the covers slowly came down. Sohee was revealed, with his face scrunched together and his eyes squeezed shut. He blinked even from the tiny amount of light in the room, adjusting to Anton in front of him and being torn out of an REM cycle. 

He immediately went to propping himself on his elbow. He rubbed his other hand down his face, ran it through his hair that was sticking up every which way.

“What’s going on,” he grumbled. 

Sohee canvassed the area in the room with his eyebrows scrunched. One eye was still squeezed shut, the other was barely open. He saw Sohee wake up more and more as he took in the look on his face.

“Sohee,” Anton repeated one more time. 

His roommate stopped moving to focus on him. Like he was keeping a secret and was too shy to spit it out, Anton balanced his head on top of his hands that were propped on the wooden edge of the bed frame. When he took too long to answer Sohee eyes darted back and forth like he might’ve missed what was said. 

“What?” he asked.

Anton was quiet for just a moment. Both of Sohee’s eyes were open now, staring at Anton waiting for something.

“I’m in love,” Anton answered.

Anton closed his eyes while he let the words sink in. He was so happy to vocalize it, he was so happy that Sohee was the first one to know.

When Anton opened his eyes he saw that the drowsiness and the confusion drained from Sohee’s face. He was just staring at Anton with his eyes narrowed and lips in a tight line. He blinked a few times, and Anton felt his eyes flutter from how happy he was. Anton wasn’t affected by the lack of Sohee’s amusement. He continued to smile, he even felt the flush go across his cheeks at finally vocalizing his confession.

Sohee’s hand went to his forehead spanning from temple to temple to massage it gently. He did this for a minute. Anton let out a blissful sigh, then Sohee took his hand away from his head. He tilted his head to the side and squeezed his eyes shut.

“Anton, I don’t have time for this.”

Sohee went back down to his pillow. Before he could bring the covers back up to his hairline Anton stopped him.

“I’m serious,” he said quickly.

“I don’t care if you’re serious or not.” Sohee says. 

He tries looking at the clock on Anton’s desk but he can’t see it. He squints, then gives up all together. Anton is still staring at him with a big smile on his face.

“It’s too late for this,” Sohee grumbles

“You don’t understand,” Anton said, leaning closer.

Anton was sure Sohee didn’t understand. So much had happened between the time he ghosted Sohee in the library to chase you to your dorm and you falling asleep on his chest after you rode him. 

Anton wanted to tell Sohee all of this. Or at the very least the abridged version of this. Before Anton could vocalize the type of night he had—because he was standing in front of Sohee with his lips parted as he recounted everything—Sohee stuck up a hand to stop him.

“I really don’t want to hear it,” he says.

Anton listens to his roommate. 

“I’m really in love,” Anton says. “you wouldn’t believe it.”

“You’re a whore and she’s a freak. A match made in nymphomanic heaven,” Sohee mumbles.

Sohee turns over in his bed and pulls his covers up. Anton doesn’t pull back, instead he stays beside the wooden bed frame. 

“She said that we are going to hang out more,” Anton said wistfully.

Sohee stops adjusting in the bed. 

“Like as a couple, or like” Sohee looks up to the ceiling and moves his hands in a vague gesture. 

“As a couple, I hope.”

“Well,” Sohee turns back on the mattress to look at Anton. “does she know that?” he asks.

For the first time Anton is pulled out of his idyllic haze. Him wanting to see you again should’ve been sentiment enough. You said yourself that you wanted to see him again. But Anton never got the chance to actually tell you that he was retiring from the cause solely to cater to you. He was lost in the bliss of having you touch him and be in your space. 

Sohee seems to notice because he smiles and points to his face. 

“Maybe you’re the one who’s going to get played now,” Sohee says smiling.

Anton smacks Sohee’s hand out of his face.

“I never was playing anyone,” he says factually. “I was always very upfront with all the girls I saw.”

“Well, now you have to upfront with one more,” Sohee says factually. “probably more upfront than you’ve ever had to be.”

There’s silence between the two of them. Sohee laughs again when Anton finally retreats from his bed to get ready to lay down. He takes off his shirt that smells like you and takes off his pants, all while thinking about what his next steps should be. He hears his roommate laugh at his contemplation.

“I’ll be upfront with her tomorrow,” Anton says when he sits on the edge of his bed. “I think I’ll tell her at the dining hall.”

Sohee fully laughs at that. Anton looks up at him to watch him cover his face as he tries to contain his laughter. 

“Anton. You are such a romantic,” he laughs.

Anton lays down hearing Sohee’s laugh devolve into quiet chuckles. 

“I don’t even want to know what y’all were doing in her room,” Sohee laughs even harder, the delirium getting to him. “I don’t even wanna know a little bit.”