โง enemies to lovers, academic rivals, unprotected sex, clit stimulation, handjob, oral sex (f receiving), breast play/nipple sucking, softdom!chris, car sex
โง summary: you and chris sturniolo are rival journalism students competing for a prestigious fellowship, forced to work together. somewhere between all the arguments, deadlines, and parties, your academic hatred for each other starts to turn into something a lot more complicated.
if there was one thing everyone at your college could agree on, it was that you and chris sturniolo couldn't stand each other.
you're not sure when the rivalry started, only that it existed before you ever spoke to him. chris sturniolo, opinions editor, the guy who walked into editorial meetings like he was doing everyone a favor by showing up.
ย you'd heard about him before you transferred, some prodigy freshman who'd already written for outside publications, who professors mentioned in hushed, impressed tones.
you'd expected someone intense, serious, maybe a little awkward. instead you got this: a guy who slouched in his chair and doodled in the margins of his notebook and argued with you about everything, not because he cared, but because he seemed genuinely baffled by your perspective.ย
like you were speaking a language he couldn't understand.
"that angle's soft," he'd said about your first feature, not unkindly, just deadpan, in front of everyone. "you're protecting your subject."
"fair is boring. fair doesn't get read."
you'd hated him instantly.
the morrison fellowship changed everything. one spot. national recognition. a direct line to the new york times and a twenty-thousand-dollar salary. professor hale announced it in october, his eyes sliding between you and chris.
"you two should collaborate," he kept saying. "you challenge each other."
what you did was avoid each other.
what you did was submit competing pitches and pretend not to notice when professors hale paired you together on research assignments, when he made you share sources, when he locked you in the small conference room with a single laptop and instructions not to leave until you'd outlined an investigation.
"this is stupid," you'd said that afternoon, arms crossed, standing as far from chris as the room allowed.
"agreed." he didn't look up from his phone. "i'll tell him you refused to participate. you can tell him i was uncooperative. we can both get out of it."
"that would require you having a spine."
now he looked up, finally, his expression unreadable. "i have a spine. i just don't see the point in performing for someone who's already decided i'm a dick."
"you're not a dick. you're just..." you searched for the word. "annoying."
you'd left separately. you told yourself it didn't matter. you told yourself you weren't thinking about the way he'd looked at you. tired, like you were exhausting to him.ย
your friends noticed before you did. jess, mostly, who had a sense for these things, who watched you check your phone during drinks and asked who you were waiting for a text from.
"you get that look whenever sturniolo posts something. like you're calculating how to ruin his next article."
"mm." jess had smiled into her wine. "i give it until winter break. one of you is going to snap."
"fuck. or admit youโre obsessed with eachother."
you'd thrown a napkin at her. but later, alone, you thought about it. thought about the way your stomach dropped when you saw his name on the byline list, the way you read his columns twice, once for content and once to catalog the things you disagreed with, the arguments you prepared in your head.
not obsession. competition. that was all.
november. the library at 11 pm, third floor empty except for the graduate students and the occasional security guard.
you were working on an article for media law and had thermos of coffee that had gone cold an hour ago, highlighter drying out in your hand, when you heard the elevator ding.
you didn't look up. didn't care who it was. until the footsteps stopped at the table across from yours, and you caught the scent of cedar and woody cologne, and you knew.
"this floor is usually empty," chris said. not a greeting. just a statement.
he sat down. you didn't look up, but you heard him unzip his bag, pull out books, settle in. silence stretched, filled only by the turning of pages and the scratch of pens.
"you're doing the morrison application," he said eventually. not a question.
more silence. you kept your eyes on your case study, but you weren't reading anymore. you were hyperaware of him. his breathing, the way he tapped his pen when he was thinking, the fact that he was left handed and smudged ink across his palm as he wrote.
"can you stop?" you said, finally looking up.
he blinked at you, genuinely confused. "stop what?"
"you're..." you gestured vaguely. "taking up space. being present. i can feel you thinking."
that smile flickered, the one you'd seen in meetings when someone said something unexpectedly dumb. "sorry. i'll try to think quieter."
he went back to his notes. you went back to yours. but something had shifted, and when you looked up twenty minutes later he was already looking at you, his expression unreadable.
"what?" you said, defensive.
"nothing. just..." he shook his head. "never mind."
"you have ink on your face." he pointed to his own cheek. "there."
you wiped at it, missed. he sighed, reached across the table, his thumb brushing your cheekbone with unexpected gentleness. his hand was warm. you stopped breathing.
"got it," he said, pulling back, and something in his voice had changed, gotten rougher. he cleared his throat. "anyway. i should go. early class."
he packed up faster than necessary, practically fleeing, and you sat there touching your cheek where his thumb had been, your heart hammering.ย
going to the party was a mistake. it was marcus's birthday, everyone from the paper was invited, the fellowship looming over you like a storm cloud.
you told yourself you wouldn't look for chris. told yourself you'd find jess, have one drink, and leave early.
but you saw him the moment you walked in, leaning against the wall by the kitchen, talking to someone from sports.
he was wearing a button-down you'd never seen, sleeves rolled to his elbows, and you looked away so fast you got dizzy.
why did he have to be hot?ย
surely it would be easier if you were enemies with someone you werenโt attracted to.ย
you found jess. found a drink. found a corner and tried to become invisible.
it didn't work. an hour in, you were by the bookshelf arguing with him about some documentary you'd both watched for research, your voices low and sharp, and you didn't know how you'd gotten here, didn't remember moving across the room.
"you're missing the point," he was saying, closer than he should be, his hand braced on the shelf beside your head. you were pointedly ignoring the fact that he was large enough to cage you in,ย your back pressed against the bookshelf.ย "the director wasn't trying to be objective. that was the wholeโ"
"objectivity isnโt real anyway. you can'tโ"
"you keep saying that like it means something. like you've figured out something the rest of us haven't."
he laughed, short and surprised, and the sound did something to your chest. "you're impossible."
"we've established this." he was looking at your mouth. you were sure you were imagining it. "why are we still talking?"
"because you can't admit i'm right."
"because you can't admit you're wrong."
you were both breathing hard, too close, and you could smell him again, that woody cologne, and you wanted to step back but you couldn't make your feet move.
then marcus was there with tequila and cards, pulling you both into the kitchen, and you sat on the counter next to chris because there was nowhere else, your thighs almost touching, your knee bouncing with nervous energy.
the game started. stupid questions at first, then worse ones.
when it got to chris, someone asked about his last hookup and he took a drink without answering, his jaw tight.
your stomach filled with something like jealousy. you ignored it and watched his throat swallow the drink, then looked away.
when it got to you, someone asked who in the newsroom you would get with, and you said no one, taking two drinks. you felt chris's eyes on the side of your face like a physical weight.
are we in highschool? what are these questions.
the questions kept coming. someone asked chris if he'd ever had a crush on someone in the newsroom, and the room went quiet, expectant.
"no," he said, too fast, and took a drink.
you didn't look at him. you couldn't.
later, much later, you were in the hallway trying to find jess, your ride, ready to leave. chris was there too, leaning against the wall, his expression distant, tired.
"trying to. jess isn't answering."
"she left with marcus. ten minutes ago."
your stomach dropped. "what?"
"they went to get food. i saw them go."
"she was supposed to drive me."
he pushed off the wall, ran a hand through his hair, disheveled, less neat than usual. "i'm heading north. i can drop you. if you want."
the alternative was a forty dollar uber you couldn't afford. "okay. yeah. thanks."
the car was cold, the heater blasting. you sat in the passenger seat with your arms crossed, staring out the window, the silence between you heavy and complicated.ย
he drove carefully, almost too carefully. his hands were at ten and two like a sophomore in highschool with a learners permit.
"you don't have to do this," you said, after ten minutes of silence.
"be nice. i know you don't want to. i know you'd rather i walked."
he glanced at you, surprised, his eyebrows drawn together. "what?"
"it's fine. i know you don'tโ" you gestured vaguely. "this. whatever this is. i know you wish i wasn't in the program."
"that's not," he pulled over suddenly, into the empty parking lot behind the grocery store, the car idling, the lights off. "that's not true."
he turned to face you, and he looked different in the dark, stripped of the facade he wore in daylight. your eyes trailed down his face, from his blue eyes, to the freckles dotting his cheeks, to his nose, and finally to his lips.ย
"i don't know what i think about you," he said, the words careful and slow. "you're frustrating. you make me question everything i write. you look at me like you're waiting for me to fail." he paused, swallowed. "but i don't wish you weren't here. i think i'd miss it. the arguing. theโฆ" he laughed, helpless. "the whatever this is."
"i don't hate you." he said it simply, like it was obvious, like it had never been in question. "i never hated you. i just didn't know what else to do with... with how you make me feel. how you look at me sometimes, like you see something i'm hiding. and i don't even know what i'm hiding. i don't know anything. i'm twenty-one and i'm competing with you for the only thing i want and i can't figure out if i want to win or if i want yโ"
you were staring at him, your heart hammering, and you didn't know who moved first, only that suddenly his hand was on your cheek and yours was on his chest, feeling his heart race, and you were kissing him, or he was kissing you, messy and uncoordinated, his mouth warm and tasting like the seltzer he'd been drinking all night.
he made a sound against your lips, surprised, almost wounded, and his other hand came up to grip your shoulder like he needed to hold on to something.
"wait," he breathed, pulling back, his forehead against yours. "wait, i don't, are youโ"
"shut up," you whispered, and kissed him again, deeper, sliding across the center console into his lap, the steering wheel digging into your back, his hands finding your hips with uncertain, shaking fingers.
the car was suddenly too small, the air thick with the scent of cedar and your shared, ragged breaths.
the steering wheel dug painfully into your spine, but you didn't care, not with the hard line of his body pressed against yours, his hands fumbling at your hips like he wasn't sure he was allowed to touch.
you bit his lower lip, just enough to make him gasp, and his hips jerked up against yours, a hard pressure that made your own hips roll down in response.ย
he made that whimpering sound again in the back of his throat, and then he was moving, his hands sliding from your hips to your thighs, gripping them with a strength that surprised you. "backseat," he managed, his voice wrecked. "can'tโฆ steering wheel."
it was an awkward, graceless scramble. you nearly got a foot stuck in the cup holder, he banged his elbow on the center console, and you both collapsed in a tangle of limbs in the cramped space, laughing breathlessly into the dark.ย
the laughter died when he managed to kick a door shut, plunging the car into near-total darkness, illuminated only by the faint glow of a streetlight.
the silence was different now. heavy. expectant. you were facing him, and he was just looking at you. you couldn't make out the color of his eyes, but you could feel the intensity of his gaze, a physical touch that traced the line of your jaw, the curve of your throat.
"what?" you whispered, suddenly self-conscious.
"justโฆ" his voice was a low rumble. "wondering if this is real."
you didn't answer with words. you reached for him, your hand finding the warm skin of his neck, your fingers tangling in the hair at his nape. you pulled him down to you, and this time the kiss was slow.
there was no rush, no frantic energy, just the slide of lips and tongues. he kissed like he wrote, with an intensity that left no room for misinterpretation, his tongue mapping yours, learning the shape of you.
his hand, which had been resting on your waist, began to move. it slid up, tracing the curve of your ribcage, his thumb stroking the side of your breast through the thin fabric of your shirt.ย
you arched into his touch, a silent invitation, and he took it, his palm cupping it and his thumb brushing over your nipple.ย
a soft sigh escaped you, and he swallowed the sound, kissing you harder.
his other hand joined the first, tugging at the hem of your shirt, and you broke the kiss just long enough to help him pull it over your head.ย
the cool air made your skin burst into goosbumps, and then his hands were back on you, tracing the lines of your bra, his thumbs hooking under the straps.
"can i?" he murmured, his lips against your shoulder.
you just nodded, your breath catching as he deftly unclasped it, sliding it down your arms.ย
he didn't immediately touch you again. he just looked, his gaze heavy enough to feel like he was. it should have been awkward, being half naked in the back of his car, but it wasn't.
"you're soโฆ" he started, then seemed to lose the words, instead leaning down and pressing a kiss to the hollow of your throat, then lower, to the swell of your breast.
his mouth was hot, his tongue on your skin making you breathless. your hands reach out to tangle in his hair and he let out a small groan in response to the pressure.
ย he took one nipple into his mouth, sucking gently, and your back arched off the seat, a small whimper tearing from your throat. "chris," you gasped, your hands tightening around his hair, holding him to you.
he hummed against your skin, a low, pleased sound, and his free hand went down your side, over your hip, to the button of your jeans.
he paused there, his fingers resting on the metal, waiting. you lifted your hips to help him and he quickly undid the button and zipper. he hooked his fingers in the waistband of your jeans and underwear, tugging them down.
you lifted your hips to help him, and he pulled them off, tossing them into the front seat. then he settled between your thighs, his shoulders pushing them wider.
then he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your inner thigh, right where the skin was thinnest and most sensitive. he did it again on the other side, and you were trembling, an uncontrollable shudder running through your entire body.
"please," you whispered. you didn't even know what you were begging for. he seemed to know.ย
he finally lowered his head, and the first touch of his tongue against you was so good it almost hurt. it was a slow, broad stroke, a taste, and then he was doing it again, his tongue going deeper, finding your clit and circling it with a precision that made your eyes roll back in your head.
he was learning you with his mouth, his hands gripping your hips, holding you in place as you began to squirm against him.
you were lost, your head thrown back, your hands fisted in his hair, your hips grinding against his face.
"chris," you gasped, "gonna come,"
he didn't stop. if anything, he went faster, sucking your clit into his mouth and giving it a gentle, rhythmic pressure with his tongue. you came with a sharp cry, your body convulsing.
when you finally came back to yourself, he was kissing his way back up your body, his movements slow and deliberate. he collapsed beside you, his chest heaving, and you turned to him, your limbs feeling weighed down.
you could feel the hard ridge of his cock pressing against his jeans, and a surge of energy went through you.
your hand found his thigh, then slid up, palming him through the rough denim. he hissed, his hips bucking into your touch.
"you don't have to," he said, his voice strained.
"i want to," you replied, and it was the truest thing you'd ever said. you fumbled with his button and zipper, your fingers clumsy with desire.
he was hot and heavy in your hand, and you gave him an experimental stroke, from base to tip. a drop of pre-come beaded at the slit, and you swiped it away with your thumb, using it to help your hand.
you found a rhythm, slow and steady, and he was watching you, his eyes dark, his lips parted, his breath coming in harsh pants.
his hand came up to cover yours, not to stop you, but to guide you, to show you how he liked it, a little tighter, a little faster.
"like that," he groaned, his head falling back against the seat. "fuck, just like that."
you watched him, mesmerized by the way his face contorted with pleasure, the way his jaw went tight, the way his abs clenched with every stroke.
you could feel him getting closer, his thrusts becoming more jumpy, his breathing more ragged.
he was letting out these sounds that made your stomach turn with desire. you wanted to see him fall apart. you wanted to be the one to do it.
"come for me, chris," you whispered, leaning in to press a kiss to his jaw. "i want to see it."
his breaths got harder and you could sense that he was getting closer, but he pulled your hand away suddenly. โno, no, canโt come yetโฆwanna be in you firstโ
his voice was ragged, thick with need.ย
you didn't hesitate, just shifted, moving over him in the cramped backseat. it was awkward, your knees bumping against the door, but you didn't care.ย
you positioned yourself over him, the head of his cock nudging against your entrance, still slick from his mouth.
you sank down slowly, taking him in inch by inch. the stretch was sweet, your head falling forward as you adjusted to the feeling of him filling you completely.
"fuck," he breathed, his hands flying to your hips, gripping you tight. "you feel... god, you feel perfect."
you started to move, a slow roll of your hips. it was a shallow movement at first, just feeling him inside you, the drag of him against your sensitive walls. his grip on your hips tightened, his thumbs pressing into your skin as he guided you, encouraging you to take him deeper.
you braced your hands on his shoulders, using the leverage to lift yourself up and then sink back down, taking him fully.ย
you found a rhythm, a steady rise and fall. the car rocked with you, a gentle, rhythmic creak of suspension that was the only sound besides your harsh breathing and the wet slap of skin on skin.
"chris," you gasped, your movements becoming more frantic, chasing the friction, the building pressure. "god, don't stop."
he didn't. he thrust up to meet you, his hips snapping upwards, driving into you with a new urgency. the angle changed, hitting a spot deep inside you that made your nails dig into his shoulders.
"right there?" he grunted, his voice strained. he did it again, a hard, deliberate thrust that had you seeing white. "there?"
"yes, yes, right there," you babbled, your words dissolving into incoherent moans.ย
he shifted one of his hands from your hip, sliding it between your bodies. his thumb found your clit, circling it with the same rhythm as his hips.ย
"come on," he urged, his voice a low growl against your ear. "come for me again. let me feel it."
your orgasm ripped through you, your body convulsing. you collapsed against his chest, boneless and trembling, as he continued to thrust into you, chasing his own release.
he held you close, his arms wrapped around your back, his face buried in your neck. his thrusts grew hasty, losing their rhythm as he got closer. his breath in harsh, ragged pants against your skin.
"look at me," he commanded, his voice rough. you lifted your head, your vision blurry, and met his gaze in the dim light. his eyes were dark, wild with need, locked on yours. "fuck, what a pretty girlโฆmy pretty girl, huh?โย
you whimper, feeling his hips stutter in you. with a final, guttural groan, he buried himself deep inside you, his body going rigid as he came. you could feel the hot flood of his release filling you. he held you there for a long moment, his body shuddering, his forehead resting against yours.
the only sound was your combined breathing, slowly returning to normal.
the air in the car was thick with the smell of sex and sweat, the windows fogged with condensation. he was still inside you, softening but not pulling away. you felt your body fill with exhaustion.
he kissed the top of your head gently. you stayed like that for a while, a tangled, sweaty mess in the backseat of his car, just breathing together in the darkness.
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