They were ROOMMATES

Warnings: smut, threesome, unprotected p in v, double penetration, oral sex (fem receiving), fingering, they’re all pervs, and strong language.

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The room is stiflingly hot.

There is no air conditioning in her study/fuck buddy's dorm to keep up with the late April heat that has descended upon Stanford's campus so quickly. Three different fans are plugged into outlets around the cramped living space, yet it does little to keep her body cool enough to feel comfortable.

Sleeping with Art was an impulsive decision. The first time was merely weeks ago after he politely asked if she would share her notes from a class he was absent from. They exchanged numbers to organize the meeting, and she ended up talking to him for the better part of an hour in the dining hall. Although she did not recognize it as flirting—the oblivious little thing she is—he shyly commented on seeing her at one of her gymnastics competitions and refused to let her get dinner with her meal credits. Looking back, his intentions should have been obvious to her, yet she does not think badly of him over it. If anything, she likes how wanted he made her feel. He knew what he wanted and ensured that he got it.

They came back to his room to study—only to study, he claimed with his hands held up to proclaim his innocence—for their approaching final exams.

"Good," she said with a teasing lilt to her voice, slinging her bag onto her shoulder and turning to walk in the direction of his dorm building. "Cause it's way too hot to be doing anything else."

They were both laughing as he set down his racquet bag to unlock the door. It was muffled through the wall, but Patrick heard it just fine from where he was perched on the foot of Art's bed with Tears for Fears playing on the unlabeled CD he dug through desk drawers to find. The sound of a distinctly feminine giggle made his mouth turn up at the corners in a smirk. This will be fun to tease his closest friend over until his cheeks flush pink and he has to hide his face in his shirt.

When the door swung open, the laughter died out as soon as they realized they weren't alone, but it was quickly replaced with wide smiles and warm greetings.

Patrick tried not to look her up and down so blatantly. Instead, he chuckled and said, "Art, you conveniently left out that you had a girlfriend on our last call."

To this, Art set down his bag and tackled him onto the bed, starting a minute-long wrestling match that only ended when they began to sweat from the heat and physical activity. It was then that Art remembered to have manners and introduced her. He scrambled to sit upright on the mattress and met her curious gaze.

"Y/N, this is Patrick. I'm sorry, I forgot what day he was coming."

She smiled.

"It's nice to meet you. I've heard a lot about you." A pause, and then she turned her attention to Art. "Do you wanna study another time? I don't wanna intrude or anything."

Before Art could open his mouth to tell her to stay, Patrick aimed one of his charming grins at her, then said, "No, please intrude. I'll just hang out. You won't even know I'm here."

The last sentence caused a disbelieving scoff to leave Art’s lips.

As of right now, as she sits on the chair in front of the desk and the boys share the bed, they have gotten halfway through the study guide they meticulously constructed after one of the two classes they share, but it grew boring once an hour and a half passed. They typically end up getting distracted and make out by now, but with Patrick here, neither of them considers that an option. So, she suggests they take a half-hour break to sit, drink, and talk to allow their brains to decompress from the constant stimulation.

He already had a few beers inside the mini fridge beneath his desk, along with a hard seltzer for her seeing that she finds the taste of beer disgusting but quite enjoys being drunk with him. Also kept in the freezer section of the fridge is a pack of ice pops she bought a few days ago when the heat wave began. They prove to be very useful right now as the midday sun bakes the building alive despite the closed curtains and blowing fans.

The CD has moved onto Nine Inch Nails, and she remains quiet to hear it over the sound of the fans as she holds a red ice pop to the side of her neck to cool herself off. Sometime along the way, both of them had stripped down to their underwear after asking her if it was alright because it was so hot. Patrick joked that he was alright with her taking her clothes off too, which she laughed at while Art playfully shoved him over it. Yet now she isn't laughing. Her small exercise shorts are as forgiving as any item of clothing could be in these circumstances, but the long-sleeve shirt she wore because it was the only clean one left is sticking to her skin.

"So, how did you and Art meet?"

Her eyes open to find Patrick glancing back and forth between them.

"It's a boring story, actually," she says. "He asked if I took notes for a class he missed, and now he's stuck with me all the time."

"No, no, okay, maybe it was boring from her perspective, but I was trying to work up the nerve to talk to her for at least a week before then. I went to one of her competitions and recognized her from class," Art explains. "She won, which wasn't surprising at all."

Although she already knew this, this is the first time he has admitted to it out loud, and her stomach flutters at the idea of him becoming so enamored with her from one glance. The popsicle is sweet on her tastebuds when she raises it to her lips and sucks with her eyes looking between them both. As she expected, Patrick shifts a little in place and looks away for reasons not at all related to how she was looking at them while sucking her popsicle.

She chuckles.

"So, you were just interested in befriending me 'cause I win a lot?"

Her tone of voice is taunting, but they know it's all in good fun. Art is quick to play along, shrugging his shoulders to feign aloofness and taking a quick swig of his beer before responding. Their eye contact grows intense in the seconds before he speaks.

"Well, there were some other contributing factors."

"Mm," Patrick hums in agreement. "I've never seen you compete, but you are really hot, so Art's right about that."

This makes her pause for a second, her gaze shifting to find Art's to see if his friend crossed any lines, but he appears strangely calm about it. What she doesn't know is that he has never had any problem sharing, at least, not with Patrick. They shared a room in boarding school, jerked off together to the same girl, and shared the court together—what was his would always be Patrick's, and what was Patrick's would always be his.

"You're flirting with me right in front of him?"

Art interjects, "I'd be shocked if he didn't."

As soon as the words leave his mouth, he's standing up from the bed to get another beer. The dorm room is small, so it only takes a few strides for him to meet her where she sits before the desk and kneels down to open the mini fridge. His left hand braces itself on one of her thighs while the right swings open the fridge door only to find there is no beer left. Rather than complain, he simply grabs one of her least favorite hard seltzer flavors and gives her thigh a firm squeeze before standing up.

The bed creaks beneath his weight when he sits back down on it.

He settles into a comfortable position with his back against the wall and legs spread, balancing the seltzer can on his bent knee. Patrick sits close to him, and she finds it difficult to peel her eyes off the pair of them in their current state of undress. Her gaze mostly lingers on Patrick seeing that she has already explored every inch of Art's lean body in the plentiful amount of times they've hooked up over the past few weeks. But, that being said, she cannot resist looking at Art either. Having two beautiful men laid out before her in their underwear is a treat she never expected to indulge in today. They each have the strong, masculine figures of athletes—showing mostly in their shoulders, biceps, abdomen, and thighs.

When Patrick notices her staring, she turns her gaze to the floor to avoid the embarrassment of being caught. If he did catch her, though, he doesn't call her out for it. Not yet, at least.

With one last bite of her popsicle, she stands from the desk chair to toss it into the small trash can beside his nightstand. It isn't until she lets it go that she realizes how close she now stands to the two of them. Only a foot or so from the bed, her heart begins to hammer in her chest at the proximity.

The way she sees it, she has two options. The first would be to retreat to the desk to let her long-sleeved shirt give her heatstroke while the men get to sit in front of the oscillating fans with their shirts off, or she can strip down to her undergarments and join them on the bed. Needless to say, she opts for the latter of the two.

Y/N lets out an exaggerated groan at the heat and fans herself with her hands for the sake of appearing somewhat innocent in what she's about to do, then reaches down for the hem of her shirt with a huff.

Art and Patrick can do nothing but watch with rapt attention side by side as she pulls the fabric up her torso and over her head. The shirt ends up falling to the floor beside her feet alongside their discarded t-shirts and pants. This leaves her in her most comfortable bra—which is Art's favorite since her nipples can be seen through the mesh material—and a pair of tiny spandex shorts.

Patrick's tongue darts out to wet his lips at the sight of her—almost angelic in her beauty—and tries to burn the image into his mind to hold onto forever. Definitely going in the spank bank, he thinks to himself as his cock begins to harden in his boxers. Beside him, Art has been stunned to silence. Even though they've fucked like rabbits since the first time, he isn't sure if he'll ever get used to seeing her like this. Those shorts hug the delicate curve of her hips, as well as that lovely ass that has been sculpted from years of training as a gymnast, and all he can think of is how badly he wants to take them off.

They sit there, dumbfounded, with their mouths hanging open just enough for her to notice and suppress an arrogant smirk. But to allow herself to smirk would be to reveal her cards, and she doesn't want them to see this as anything other than her innocently trying to cool down. Truth be told, she hasn't thought this through. It's not as though she planned this as she was sitting at the desk. It's more of an impulsive, irresistible urge. And if they will tease her so blatantly with their half-naked bodies, she is entitled to do the same.

"You," she says, jutting her chin in Patrick's direction. "Scoot. I wanna sit in front of the fans too."

Underneath it all, she's thankful that she took the time to do her hair the way that makes her feel the most confident and put a little makeup on. Not that either of them is focused on her damned makeup. No, they're far too busy ogling her figure to notice anything north of her collarbones.

After a delayed second of staring, what she said seems to register within him and spark him into action. He's quick to scoot closer to the end of the bed if it means she'll be inhabiting the small space between them. 

She offers a quiet, "Thank you," and crawls onto the bed, turning around and settling into place with her back against the wall. The cool air generated by the fans blows faintly against the front of her sweat-slick chest, and she can't help but shut her eyes and hum in appreciation of it.

With her eyes shut, Art and Patrick are both scrambling to quietly conceal their growing erections. If they don't, it'll be glaringly obvious when she opens her eyes and sees a tent in their underwear on either side of her. Although the life-long friends don't speak, there's an understanding formed between the two of them. Whatever she allows them to have of her tonight, if she allows anything, they'll share nicely. Patrick knows that if anything happens, he is to assume it is a one-time thing unless she or Art expresses a desire for an arrangement of some sort to be made.

Her eyes open again a few seconds later to find them staring at her.

Breaking the silence, she asks, turning her head left to right to address each of them, "Did your mothers never tell you it's rude to stare?"

Patrick doesn't miss a beat.

"Did you know it's rude to be a tease?"

The sound of Art sucking in a deep breath meets her ears, but she doesn't look away from Patrick. Their eyes are locked, and she can see the mischief present in his. It's almost as if he dares her to do something...like he knows that she wants him just as badly as he wants her. Part of her feels guilty, feeling like she should remain loyal to Art even though they aren't exclusive, but a much more dominant part of her desires it too much to resist the temptation.

"Patrick, don't pressure her. If she doesn't want to—"

Her head turning to look at him halts him in his tracks. The look she's giving him...

Much to his shock, she was a virgin when they met a few weeks ago. He questioned her relentlessly, claiming there was no way someone as beautiful, smart, and talented as her could've gone so long without doing it, but she held firm. It was the truth, he realized after she sheepishly relayed the story of how she made out with a basketball player on Halloween and wimped out before it could go further. That first night, she was a bashful, blushing little thing. He treated her with the tenderness and reverence she deserved, first making her come with his tongue and fingers before fucking her. It was so...intimate. Her nails dug into his shoulders when he made that first, breathtaking thrust into her. Just the thought of it was enough to get him hard the next day, but he knew not to expect anything after how shy she was the previous night. Little did he know, he awakened something within her, and from then on, she would be insatiable.

He almost got whiplash from how quickly she changed from a nervous, flushed-faced girl asking him, "Am I doing this right?" when she got on top to a cock-hungry temptress ready to jump onto him at any moment. Truth be told, he found it so fucking hot. To think that he was the catalyst for this behavior was beyond comprehension. Though Art did well enough in his dating life, Patrick was the one that the girls they liked gravitated toward when they were in school together. But she was his, and he thinks, even now, that he'll always have the satisfaction of having gotten to her first no matter what happens tonight.

Y/N shifts around on the mattress so that she's sitting on the side of the bed opposite the wall, facing them with her hands on her knees and legs tucked beneath her ass. Both boys perk up a little at this, and they watch every minute movement she makes and listen to every breath she breathes with unwavering focus.

She meets Art's gaze first before doing anything. Her brows raise in question, and, in answer, he gives her a slight nod. Those pretty, cherry-stained lips of hers curve into a smirk she doesn't even bother to hide in response to this.

"Have you ever fucked the same girl before?" she asks out of pure curiosity, her tone calm and even. Her hands leave her knees to grab one of their thighs each, slowly rubbing up and down to allow her fingertips to brush the edge of their boxers. "Two guys at the same time is a first for me..."

To say that they are in a state of shock would be a gross understatement. Surprisingly, their mouths are not hanging open, and they aren't drooling at the mere thought of what she's proposing.

Somehow, Patrick finds his voice and says, "No." A second of pause, then—"Is this for real? Like you're not just fucking with us?"

The silence that follows is ripe with tension. All that can be heard is the sound of voices passing in the hallway outside of the dorm room and fans blowing on their highest setting. The hands on their thighs come to a halt at the edge of their boxers, and the softened expression on her face shifts into one of unabashed lust as she looks at Patrick.

In answer to his question, she starts to crawl over to him. Seeing that the mattress is a twin, it doesn't take too long for her to reach him and settle into place on top of him. Her hands slide up to cup his face, forcing him to only look at her when she lowers herself onto his lap. The spandex shorts hugging every inch of her figure do little to keep him from feeling the warmth of her cunt against the bulge that formed the second she took her top off.

That first brush of her lips against his is gentle, as though she has him under a trance, but it doesn't take longer than a few seconds for him to snap out of it. Patrick's hands grasp her hips first to keep her from moving away, then they slide down to knead the soft, supple flesh of her ass as he begins to kiss her back hungrily. The kiss quickly begins to descend from her lips to her jaw until he reaches the soft skin of her neck.

While he nips and sucks at the sensitive spot along the side of her neck, Y/N opens her eyes to find Art staring, unblinking, at the pornographic display before him. The sight of him alone—between his messy blonde hair, piercing eyes, and masterfully structured face—is enough to pull a breathy moan from the back of her throat. One would think that she would get used to the way he makes her feel when he looks at her like that, but she never does.

One of the arms wrapped around Patrick's neck uncurls itself to reach for Art, fingers wiggling to beckon him to her. 

He's already invading her space by the time she whispers, "C'mere, baby."

Art practically melts into the two writhing bodies he kneels beside at the casual use of a pet name from her. The word echoes in the farthest reaches of his brain until it is all he can hear on a loop. Even as she grips the back of his neck and pulls him until their mouths collide, his cock twitches from the memory of her calling him baby.

Patrick continues to suck, lick, nip, and kiss his way down her neck as she slips her tongue into Art's mouth with a groan. He leaves marks behind everywhere he goes with the thought of his friend finding them on her for the next week and a half in mind. It only makes it more thrilling for him to imagine the strange mixture of frustration and arousal that will arise within Art when he rediscovers them the next time they hook up.

Slowly, she is guided onto her back by his mouth slipping down to take one of her nipples into it and his callused hands peeling her shorts, along with her soaked cotton thong, down over the swell of her ass. The freshly washed sheets are soft against her bare back as she lays back and watches Patrick worship her breasts with both his mouth and hands. In the midst of their repositioning, Art took it upon himself to squeeze into the cramped space next to Patrick, slotting himself between him and the wall the bed is pressed against. Without a word of warning, he dips his face down to kiss the breast Patrick is cupping in his hand.

She feels hands everywhere, unsure of which belongs to who. Hands grapple for purchase on her hips, her waist, her breasts, her thighs, and her ass—always moving in search of new territory to claim. Although they have no way of coordinating their actions, they seem to move in sync with one another. The second Art's mouth lowers to kiss down her stomach, which flinches inward at the feeling, Patrick follows. If she weren't so overwhelmed with everything right now, she'd likely laugh at how eager they are to race each other down the length of her body.

Their heads bump every few seconds by the time they reach her parted thighs, but they are too focused on getting a taste of her to care at first. They work with the same synchronized harmony they once had as doubles partners, Art tugging her left leg over his shoulder while Patrick shoves her right up and out until her thigh is flush with her chest. She can't help but silently thank her parents for enrolling her in gymnastics lessons years ago. If they hadn't, this would be a tad uncomfortable.

Finally, Patrick tries to shove Art to the side a little, complaining, "Come on, man, you're with her all the time."

To her surprise, it works for the first moment or so. Art places hot, open-mouthed kisses on her inner thigh as Patrick's tongue makes a broad stroke through her, but it isn't long before he grows dissatisfied with his current role in this impromptu threesome and decides to fight back. He doesn't shove or push like Patrick had, instead, he gently nudges his head against Patrick's until they can share her.

Having Art go down on her alone always feels pleasurable, but having both of their mouths on her at the same time is another sensation entirely. It's indescribable. Spit drools from their lips as they kiss her sodden cunt, taking turns flicking the tips of their tongues against her clit for the sake of hearing her moan over and over. From where she looks down at them, they're nearly kissing each other as they eat her out, and she has to tip her head back onto her shoulders to keep them from seeing her smirk.

When she looks back down, she makes a breathy, gasping sound at the sight of them. Patrick is looking up at her with an intensity no man has ever had when looking at her, not even Art, and there is no ignoring the feeling it stirs in the pit of her abdomen.

"Fuck," she whines and pushes herself harder against their faces, but it's never enough. "More—I need more. Please."

Neither one hesitates. In fact, they seem to form a plan without speaking it aloud. As Art's free hand raises from where it palmed his cock through his boxers, Patrick's lips close around her sensitive, puffy clit and start to suck. The tips of Art's middle and ring fingers brush tentatively against her hole, then, teasingly slow, push inside until they're buried knuckle deep.

The contrast of the men as lovers—Patrick being unforgiving and passionate, Art being tender and desperate—threatens to dizzy her. But Art cannot control himself for too long. He often starts slow and gentle, his eyes flooded with genuine affection for whoever is pinned under his body, then loses his composure the farther things go. By the time he's inside of her, he's almost brutal in how hard he fucks her, and it isn't out of malice, it's out of animalistic lust.

So, as per usual, the pace Art sets to begin with shifts into something harder and faster.

Over the sounds of the fans and music playing on the CD player across the room, a symphony of panting breaths, whines, and wet noises can be heard. It wouldn't surprise any of them if the people who were talking in the hallway could hear it, but it's not like they care right now. 

When she closes her eyes and tries to fall back against the mattress, Patrick stops for a second to murmur, "Don't look away," before getting back to work. Something about the way his voice sounds forces her to submit to his demand without hesitation. There's an edge to it. An underlying promise that he will stop and leave her here to suffer if she doesn't listen, so she does. She watches with a slack-jawed expression at how they work diligently to get her off.

The combined sensations of the fingers pumping into her at a steady, rushed pace and the lips enclosed around her sensitive bud push her closer and closer to the edge of oblivion. Art slips a third finger in and licks between her sticky folds as Patrick sucks her clit relentlessly. Everything they do is motivated by a dire need to take as much of her as they can, as though they can't quite believe what's happening and want to savor it before they wake from the dream. Seeing their desperation only fuels the fire roaring to life inside of her.

They feast on her the way starving men would if presented with food—humming and groaning in satisfaction at the taste of her on their tongues. Through the haze she's fallen under as a result of the present situation, her gaze lifts from where both of their faces are smushed together between her parted thighs to find that they're both humping the mattress. It seems like they don't even realize they're doing it, which, of course, only makes it hotter for her. To think that she wields enough power over them, that she renders them so useless and needy...

Her brows pinch together at the feeling of Art's fingertips finding the sweet spot inside of her.

"Right there," she breathes out in a shaky voice, hand shooting down to grasp anything she can find for support.

It ends up being Patrick's dark hair that is weaved between her fingers and used as her lifeline, tugging nearly every time Art's fingertips find the spot inside of her that makes her throw her head back on the bed and cry out for them. If they didn't have her pinned down, her hips would be lifting to meet every thrust, but she cannot do anything other than take it. Every breath she takes turns rapid, her chest rising and falling dramatically, as the familiar feeling of her impending release grows nearer by the second.

She says, half warning and half pleading with them, "I'm"—The sentence is cut off before it can be said by a high-pitched moan that makes Patrick moan and Art whimper into her—"Please"—What she's pleading for, none of them know, herself included, but she continues to babble nonsensically anyway—"Ah!"

The hand that isn't pulling on Patrick's hair reaches down instinctively for the hand Art grips her thigh with, and she doesn't even need to ask him for it. He entwines their fingers and allows her to squeeze his hand until circulation is lost as she finally feels the wave that was building within her begin to crest.

It hits her harder than she ever knew it could. 

Everything explodes into a sensation of bliss so strong, she loses herself in it. The only thing tying her body down to the earth is the feeling of the hands on her—touching her, fingering her, caressing her, and holding her hand—yet even that is not enough to keep her from floating away into another world entirely for the first few seconds of her orgasm. The muscles in her legs, so exhausted from being forced into a position like this, shake violently with every wave of pleasure rushing through her, and her walls clamp down around the fingers thrusting into her.

If she could live forever in these fifteen seconds, she would, but it soon becomes obvious to her that there's no chance of that happening. Gradually, the intense sensation starts to recede like the tides, and they are both there to help her ride it out to the very end. But once it fully fades, she wriggles beneath them in sensitivity.

Using the hand wrapped up in his hair, Y/N pulls Patrick's mouth away from her clit with a strength he didn't know to expect despite her obvious athletic background, and when Art notices this, he too slows the rhythmic pumping of his fingers inside of her throbbing heat to a stop. Wary of hurting her, he waits another five seconds before slowly pulling them out.

She has gone boneless where she lays on her back with her eyes shut and chest heaving for air.

Knowing she cannot see them, Patrick cuts his best friend a look and jerks his chin in her direction in a silent urging to check on her. Both men start to move at the same time, crawling over her until they reach her face. While Patrick lies beside her and trails his hand up and down her naked, sweat-soaked torso to occupy himself in the time it takes her to recover, Art licks her arousal from his fingers before grabbing her by the chin.

He asks with a teasing inflection, "You still with us?"

Her eyes slowly open to find them both staring at her, and she cannot help the slight smile that comes to her face at this.

"You guys almost killed me," she murmurs. "I think my vision got spotty for a second there."

They allow her another moment to catch her breath and recuperate in the aftermath of what she endured. She takes turns looking at them as she pants for air, laying with her arms above her head and thighs squeezed together due to her current state of sensitivity.

Patrick is the first to break the silence.

"We're not done with you," he says softly, the hand on her chest climbing up until it cradles the side of her neck. "But you know that, don't you?"

"I'd be a little bummed if you were," she replies.

Her head is whipping around at the sound of Art's voice.

"Only a little?"

She pushes herself up from where she's lying supine on the bed, which is now a mess of tangled sheets and sweat, to smack him on the arm. It's all in good fun, of course, and Art is hardly hurt by the playful blow she landed on him. Giggles escape her mouth as they begin to play fight, swatting and trying to pin one another down with Patrick there to spectate. He encourages Y/N to fight dirty, telling her where to strike, which causes Art to curse under his breath and declare him a traitor.

It ultimately ends with her on top, her legs straddling his hips and hands pinning his wrists to the bed. Based on the faraway, longing gleam in his eyes as he looks up at her, Patrick can tell immediately that she only won because Art allowed her to. Because there is something about being pinned to the bed underneath her that turns him on. And she knows it. It's easy to tell by how his erection presses up against her naked center through the fabric of his boxers.

Suddenly, she comes up onto her knees and moves back until she's hovering over his thighs. Her next words are a soft-spoked explanation for why she's reaching for the waistband of his boxers.

"Too much clothes."

But, to her surprise, another pair of hands comes to her aid in shimmying Art's underwear down his hips and legs. The way Patrick sees it, the sooner he helps her get them off, the sooner she'll take his off. And he isn't wrong. As soon as they get the boxers free from Art's body, the garment is tossed to the side without a care in the world. Neither of them looks to see where they landed, they're far too busy leaning in to kiss each other than keep track of their discarded clothing.

Her left hand is wrapped around Art's cock, pumping at a torturously slow pace, as she pulls away from Patrick with a string of saliva connecting their lips.

"Take those off," she says with a pointed look at his crotch.

To say he is sent scrambling to take off his underwear at her command would be an understatement. If this scenario itself wasn't hot enough to make her cunt throb with a desperate need to be fucked, she'd be giggling at his eagerness. But it's hard to find anything funny when she's faced with Patrick standing, one foot on the floor and his other leg braced against the bed at the knee, with nothing to conceal him from her anymore.

It must inflate his ego to heights it has never reached before to see her tongue dart out to wet her lips at the sight of him. The hand stroking Art falters as she admires Patrick's cock. It's about an inch longer than Art's yet equal in girth, curving up a little toward his hair-speckled, defined abdomen. A drop of precome has dripped from his tip, and she has to dip her head forward to get a quick taste. Those pretty lips wrap around him, not pushing down to take the rest of his shaft into her mouth but remaining where she is, flicking her tongue against the slit where the drops of sticky, pearlescent fluid secrete.

A taste is all she allows herself, though.

Her lips pull off of him with a soft popping sound, and she makes sure to maintain eye contact with him as she licks a drop of pre-come off of her top lip.

She turns to look at Art, then Patrick, then back at Art, asking, "How do you want me?"

Seeing that she was a virgin before she started seeing Art, she figures she isn't qualified to direct this in a way that'll be comfortable for everyone involved. No, if she had to bet, Patrick has the most experience between the three of them—with Art following closely behind—and he will have no problem taking control from here based on how he has acted thus far.

To their surprise, it's Art who answers first. 

Patrick was still in a faraway daze from having her mouth around his cock only to be kicked when he was down by the question she asked. How do you want me? God, it's like she's trying to kill them.

"On my lap."

Art pushes himself up from the mattress and repositions so he sits on his knees in front of them, reaching for her hips to pull her closer without a second of hesitation. Her arms instantly reach for his shoulders to steady herself as she maneuvers into the exact position he had in mind. Buried beneath the music that has become white noise to them and the fans running on their highest setting, he thinks he hears her breath hitch in her throat once she's straddling his lap, the tip of his cock nudging against her clit.

Absentmindedly, she starts to grind against him, coating him in the slick arousal that seeps from her, but it's slow. A tease compared to what's coming next.

"Patrick," he says, his voice unwavering despite the excitement that makes his stomach churn. His hand slides down from her neck, caressing her breast as it passes by at a lazy speed, until he takes hold of himself and pumps a few times—as if he isn't hard as a fucking rock already. Over her shoulder, he meets his friend's intense stare. "If you wanna fuck her, you should probably get on the bed."

And while he would usually fire back something equally witty or taunting, Patrick cannot manage to do anything but nod. There's something about seeing Art this way that subdues him. He would like to think that the sole reason he's standing naked in front of his best friend is because there's a girl involved, but that isn't true. Not completely. Although Art would never admit to himself that he feels the same way, there's something familiar about this. Comfortable. Right.

The mattress dips with Patrick's shifting weight, squeaking a little beneath his knees until he settles into place behind her. His chest presses against her back, and his hand reaches up to grab her jaw, guiding her head to tilt so he can kiss her neck while Art lines himself up with her. She feels Patrick's cock pressing against her ass as the broad tip of Art's sinks inside of her.

Having Patrick's face buried in her neck, her shoulder, and back to her neck again provided her and Art a rare second of private intimacy. Her eyes, glazed over with lust, lock into his and refuse to look away. The intensity present in his gaze does not frighten her. If anything, it sends a rush of adrenaline through her body, and she takes a second to admire his soft, wide eyes. She's never mentioned it aloud before, but she has always been fascinated with making eye contact with him due to his right eye. Half of the iris is a striking, clear shade of blue while the other is a warm brown hue.

"Fuck," he says under his breath at the feeling of her squeezing down around him, her tight cunt resisting a little until she relaxes and sinks down until there's nothing left to take.

There's nothing that compares to the feeling of the first thrust he makes.

Every time, it makes her bite her bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. To feel him so deep is almost undoing in itself. Then she feels another hand slide between her legs, and her mind goes utterly blank. Everything outside of this room falls away the second Patrick starts to rub her clit in gentle, languid circles to help her adjust to the stretch of Art inside of her. Patrick's lips lavish every accessible inch of her bare skin with kisses as his friend, with a hand on each of her hips, starts to lift her up and down at an unhurried pace.

Their noses and lips brush without completely touching. When she pushes her face closer to Art's, hoping to lock lips with him, he pulls away for the sake of seeing her grow hot in the face from embarrassment. The mouth worshipping the back of her neck curves up into a smirk in reaction to the games Art plays with her. Who knew he's just as fun in bed as he is out of it? Certainly not Patrick.

She mutters, voice breathy and weak, "Feels so good..."

"Yeah?" Patrick murmurs into her skin and presses his fingers hard against her clit. "Tell me how he feels."

If he could see her the way Art can right now, he'd have to suppress a chuckle at how her brows pinch together at the command. Regardless of her sudden shyness, the words he says only make her ride Art harder. Over her shoulder, Patrick searches for those pale blue eyes only to find them staring through him already. Every smooth rocking motion of her hips pushes her ass against his neglected erection, providing him with a brushing touch before pivoting away again.

"He feels"—she says, chest rising and falling faster—"He's so hard." Her sentences are hardly coherent. "Perfect—mmm—fucking me so deep." One of her hands reaches to tug his down to press it against the southernmost part of her abdomen. "Feel."

With her palm molded over the back of his hand and forcing him to push down on her belly, Patrick can hardly keep from groaning at the subtle bulge of Art's cock moving in and out of her. It's strangely intimate for the three of them to share this experience, but for him to feel every thrust through her is more than he anticipated.

Unable to fight what instinct drives him to, Patrick shifts his hips until the angle of her grinding against him allows his tip to brush up against the hole she and Art have yet to touch. He doesn't do anything more, not without her asking for it, but it's clear to both Art and Y/N that he desperately wants to. All of this physical affection shared between the two of them has made Patrick needy and jealous, so she decides to grant him mercy.

She reaches behind herself blindly to guide him elsewhere, nudging him against the hole Art is already filling. It takes them a couple of seconds to understand what she means in doing this, but, once it clicks, they start to go a little crazy. For the moment, she has stopped bouncing on Art's cock for the sake of allowing Patrick to push in beside him, and he has to surge forward to kiss her. If he doesn't distract himself with a kiss, he'll be too tempted to move.

As Art kisses her deeply, his tongue invading her mouth and caressing her own, Patrick's hand wraps around her throat for leverage with his teeth nipping at her earlobe. His hand wraps around where hers grips his cock to guide it to her entrance, and with his help, they manage to squeeze the tip in.

Her jaw drops at the overwhelming sensation, and the sloppy kiss is interrupted when her head rolls back onto Patrick's shoulder. Art doesn't seem to care, though. Now that her head is tipped back, her neck is exposed for him to mark, and he takes advantage of the opportunity as soon as it presents itself. His lips brush against Patrick's fingers a few times as he kisses her fervently, sucking hard on the delicate skin that has already been bruised by his dear friend.

"You're beautiful," Art whispers into her neck between kisses. "So, so beautiful."

Taking it slow for her sake, Patrick has to force himself into her inch by inch, stretching her little cunt to take far more than she's accustomed to. But, as hard as it is, it works. After another few moments of him pushing in and pausing to let her adjust, he finally bottoms out with his cock flush against Art's. Her walls clamp down around them tightly. They both share a nervous look at this, wondering if they'll manage to last longer than thirty seconds if it already feels this good.

Slowly, she raises her head from where it slumped against Patrick's shoulder and meets Art's intense stare with one of her own. His hand raises to cup the side of her face, his fingers grazing against Patrick's, and he brushes his thumb over her kiss-swollen bottom lip. Every breath taken between the three of them is labored.

Pulling her lip down with his thumb, he asks, "Feeling okay?"

A half-second later, Patrick chimes in.

"If it's too much, you have to tell us."

Not a question, not a request, but a demand. The way he said it left no room for debate, so she nods in compliance and responds with an eagerness that neither man can miss, "M'fine, please, just fuck me..."

Patrick does not need to be told twice.

Having been sidelined for too long and forced to watch them fuck without him, he pulls out slowly, then cants his hips back against her ass with a force that takes her breath away. Amidst this, Art cannot do anything but let his face fall forward into her chest and whine in ecstasy. Just the movement of Patrick's cock rubbing against his with every thrust renders him useless. He knew it would feel better than any sex he'd had before, but this...He'll likely spend the rest of his life chasing the hedonism they are experiencing tonight.

One of her arms reaches behind her to grab Patrick's hip and dig her nails in hard while the other closes around Art's neck to pull both of them as close as can be. And now that he has forced himself back from the edge of a premature release, Art begins to move too, searching for a rhythm that feels right. Soon enough, he manages to find it. Both of their heads lift to look at each other, faces inches apart with their chins pressing on her shoulder, and they work with the same synchronicity they had while eating her out not even fifteen minutes ago.

She turns her head to the side to watch their stare-down as they rut into her like feral animals—utterly insatiable and overcome by their baser instincts. And it's only now that it occurs to her that, underneath it all, they want each other as desperately and pathetically as they want her. Patrick's gaze relentlessly bounces back and forth between Art's eyes and lips, and it makes her smirk to herself. The pleasure of fucking her as one, their pulsing cocks rubbing together in the warm walls of her cunt, has lowered their inhibitions, and the idea of being intimate with one another isn't as daunting as it would be if they were fully aware.

Leaning in to brush her cherry-flavored lips against Art's ear, she whispers, "I want you to kiss him."

The arm looped around the back of his neck pulls tighter in encouragement, bringing his body so close to hers that she can feel his ribs expanding with every breath. His only reaction to her request is a quick glance at her face once she pulls away from his ear with a sensuous lick as a parting gift. It's almost as though he doesn't believe what she's saying, but the reassuring expression she wears tells him that it is real. She truly wants him to see him kiss his best friend, not only for their enjoyment but hers as well.

One second, he's looking at her, and the next, he's slotting his lips against Patrick's with a passion previously only reserved for her. Their hands both grapple for purchase on her sweat-slick body, Art aggressively kneading her breasts and Patrick squeezing her hips for dear life, as they moan into each other's mouths.

As they kiss each other hungrily, Y/N has nothing left to do but bask in the tension swelling inside of her. There's something about how wrong this situation feels to her that makes it so much more arousing. Girls are always raised with the idea that promiscuity lessens their value, and she was not an exception. Having been raised in a family of devout believers, she hadn't kissed a boy until she was seventeen years old. The next person she kissed was Art, and in the time since their first kiss, he has thoroughly corrupted her.

And even as distracted as he is by the all-consuming, wet kiss he's engaged in, Art feels her cunt start to squeeze around their cocks and immediately drops one of the hands on her breasts between her splayed thighs. His finger rubs in tight circles on her clit in hopes that she will reach her end before he and Patrick come pathetically soon.

Her body jerks where it's trapped between them when his fingers make contact, pulling their focus away from each other for the first time since their lips touched. Patrick reaches up to hold her neck in one hand and forces her face to the side so both of them can look at every subtle expression she makes. 

"Don't stop," she pleads, eyes glazed over. "M'so close, Art"—Every merciless thrust elicits a high-pitched whine from her—"Patrick, please!"

The body trapped between them has gone boneless and twitchy, utterly useless at holding herself up or aiding them in any way. But they wear it like a badge of honor. With her face falling forward into Art's neck, she loses her grasp on all that is around her and lets them prop her up to fuck her like a toy existing solely for their gratification.

With one hand cradling the back of her head and the other between her thighs, still dutifully rubbing her clit, Art asks under his breath, "Isn't she fucking perfect?"

Although it was a question meant for Patrick, she can't help how she moans and clenches her walls around them when she hears it. Panting breaths from the three of them flood the sweltering dorm room, but they are too far gone to notice or care how much sweat drips off of their bodies onto one another. It's almost hard to get a firm grip on her as a result of it, but they manage to keep her in place by smushing their bodies as close as physically possible on both sides of her.

Patrick bucks his hips up into her with a recklessness that gives away how close he is to his climax.

He says, "Oh, God, yeah." The hand still collaring her delicate neck squeezes just enough to take her breath away for a second. However, once he released his hold on her, that hand moved to wrap itself up the roots of her hair. "Best pussy I've ever had. So fucking tight, it's like she wants us to come inside her." A pause, then, "Is that what you want?"

A second passes of silence from her, and he sharply tugs back on her hair until her face is no longer hidden in Art's neck. This allows them to drink in the sight of her—face twisted up in pleasure and mouth gaping open.

He asks again, "Is that what you want?"

Her response is immediate.

"Yes, yes, yes," she murmurs incoherently and takes quick turns to look between their faces. If the expressions they wear are any indication, it won't be long before her wish is fulfilled. "I'm—mmm-gonna come! I need you to fill me up, please, please!"

To this, Art rubs her clit faster while maintaining eye contact with her and finally lets go of whatever remaining scraps of self-control he has left. Knowing how close she is pushes them closer themselves, and they start to pound her hard. Hard enough that even they, as soon-to-be professional athletes, have difficulty sustaining this intense degree of exertion.

The arm that she looped around his shoulders is still there, but now her hand is sliding down from the back of Art's neck to explore the toned musculature of his upper back. Under her searching palm, she can feel his muscles contracting and relaxing beneath his pale skin.

To both her and Art's surprise, the world begins to shift in their peripheral vision until he falls flat against the mattress on his back with his length still sheathed inside of her. It takes a second for their brains to catch up with what happened and deem Patrick responsible for the position change. He laid his hands flat on her back and pushed with just the right amount of force to pin Art to the mattress beneath them.

Art says, breathless, "I can feel you squeezing us, baby, just let go."

Hearing those words sets fire to her blood, and that, paired with the toe-curling sensation of them pressing deep inside of her, hitting that spot over and over and over, is what tips her over the edge.

Patrick keeps pulling on her hair to force her head up so that they can feel and watch her come, and what a beautiful sight it is. Art, the lucky bastard, is face to face with her as she tenses up with the onslaught of her climax. But he can see the side of her pretty, flushed face and drink up every little sound she makes, so he doesn't feel left out in any way. No, he is experiencing this right beside Art. They're both trapped inside of her, pumping into her throbbing heat and letting themselves be swept away into oblivion by the feeling of her coming undone.

She digs her nails into Art's skin hard enough to hurt as she whines and writhes between them with each pulse of pleasure that runs through her, and it isn't until she's starting to come down, riding out the high, that she feels them spill into her at the same time. Every sensation attached to it prolongs her orgasm—the throbbing, the spreading warmth, and the dying undulations of their hips that grind their cocks together within her. And beyond the physicality of the act, just knowing that they're filling her to the brim with their come makes her head spin from how fucking hot she finds it.

It isn't long before their thrusts slow into a sensuous grinding as they come down from it together, then come to a full stop to keep from overstimulating themselves. They both are starting to go soft, panting and leaning against her limp body in exhaustion, and know they wouldn't be able to continue even if they wanted to.

Her head is laid on Art’s shoulder with Patrick’s nose nuzzling her neck. There's nothing they can do except remain still and try to recover from the euphoria that has rendered them useless, so that is precisely what they do. With their bodies nearly melting together from the heat, the three of them hold onto each other for support until they manage to return to full consciousness after what they went through.

It isn't until another couple of moments have elapsed that Patrick and Art start murmuring to one another while she remains slumped between them. A second later, both pairs of hands are squeezing her hips; lifting her off of their softening cocks, slowly, gently, and minding her sensitivity.

The three of them collapse side by side on the twin bed, bodies squeezed together like sardines, and she finally comes back down from the clouds her head floated into at the feeling of them touching her. It isn't sexual. No, they wouldn't dream of putting her through anything more than she could handle right now. Both touches are tender and featherlight—Art's hand molds over her breast simply to cup it as they cuddle while Patrick brings her hand up from her side to brush a kiss over her knuckles.

The silence continues to stretch on, then—

"We're definitely gonna have to do that again," she says, turning her head to look at each of them before laying her cheek against Art's shoulder. "That is, if don't mind sharing me."

His gaze softens, the hand cupping her breast ghosting up over her skin until it finds her and Patrick's entwined hands.

"I don't mind one bit."

-

it was that time of night again..

the one moment out of the day that you looked forward to in hopes to unwind and relax..for a better lack of terms.

your bedroom door locked and secured shut without the chance of interruption from your roommates.

pillowy comforters surrounding your nearly nude body on crisp sheets; snuggled comfortably in bed.

the room dark with the exception of a dimly lit television playing music and red colored LED lights strewn across the perimeter of the ceiling.

the mood was set and you were looking to make use of it. On your nightstand sat a glass of wine that you had been nursing throughout the night was flowing through your veins and other areas as well.

granted, after a long week, it was the one luxury you had to look forward to.

the white AirPods plugged firmly into your earlobes as you tapped your acrylics against the glass screen and scrolled the pages of the infamous adult website.

it wasn't something you were particularly proud of but you frequented it quite a bit. Especially when the days were extremely long and you just needed something to take the edge off.

but there was also one reason in particular that you found yourself becoming a regular visitor: him.

it all started one night, around two a.m..you were feeling particularly sexually frustrated; single with no desire to deal with one of your sneaky links.

the normal videos you'd spot on Twitter during the late nights weren't even hitting the same..

countless thumbnails of the same positions and pornstars. It was becoming a blur. You were slightly aroused but not enough to feel anything.

that's when you stumbled upon a video of a guy exposing only his neck down with a tattoo on his forearm and the prettiest brown skin you'd ever seen, oiled up.

simply known by the username 'YourFantasyBF’

his voice was so sexy..a little deep but still had a whiny pitch to it that turned you on.

and his dick was so pretty; long, thick and very clean shaven. His balls were so full and you'd definitely fuck him stupid if you ever got the chance.

but when you pressed play and the sounds filled your phone, it was from that moment forward that nothing else could suffice to fit your needs.

it started with him slowly jerking himself off, telling you how much of a good girl you were for sucking his dick..telling you to get it nice and sloppy for him.

beside you lay one of your many toys so you followed along to his instructions. Slowly stroking the veiny silicone in your fingertips as your wet tongue traced across the tip.

you'd close your eyes, imagining that it was him in front of you..

"Yeah..that's my nasty bitch..my good girl. Letting me use that throat."

the words sending flutters to your already throbbing heat. But it didn't stop there..

he covered himself in more of that glistening liquid and began pumping his closed fist around that thick shaft and your mind was spinning as he continued to talk the lucky listener through their nut.

"Open that shit up for me..you're taking it so good."

"Nut on daddy's dick, I love that."

"That pussy is so pretty, babygirl. All wet and creamy for me.."

"Shut up and take this dick."

your eyes glued shut, focusing on the words as that dildo pounded your tight hole. Your imagination was running rampant of what it would be like to be underneath him.

hand around your neck while he looked you in the eyes and fucked you dumb.

he hit every point he was supposed to..praise, degrading, even a little bit of submission right before he came. And when he did, a very thick and healthy nut covered his knuckles in white.

you would've licked it clean had you been given the chance.

but at the same time, you found yourself making a mess on the towel underneath you; coating that toy in your own slick..

you had never came that hard in your life!

one video right after the next and the orgasms to follow until you couldn't move an inch.

for days after, the voice lingered in your head and at the most random moments, you'd hear his words and they invoked some..interesting feelings.

everybody you hooked up with afterwards paled in comparison, and soon, the thought with him became better than the actual act of sex itself.

tonight was no exception. The moment that video began playing, you were sent spiraling into that headspace of submitting for him.

not before long, you found yourself gliding a hand down your body, spreading your legs apart in the process.

this time, you didn't even need the screen..his voice was doing it for you just fine. Panting, arching your back and curling your toes as he rang off in your ear with those lewd sounds.

closing your eyes to imagine it were him on top of you, pounding your pussy until you couldn't move the next day.

your fingertips slowly circled your clit, stimulating that bud and covering them in your own juices.

soon, your breathing became sharper and lust had overtaken your body. It was a shame how badly this man had ruined you without so much as a glimpse at his face or his name..

subtle moans rose from the back of (y/n)'s throat as that toy slid in and out of that tight opening; still massaging that aching pearl.

your entire body was trembling and beginning to burn up in ecstasy..that's when you heard it..

"Nut for me, baby..cum on your fucking dick."

in that moment, you lost it and made a mess everywhere. Hearing it referred to as yours was the breaking point.

for a minute, all you could do was lie there a sticky, sweaty mess and try to gather your thoughts. Needless to say, you had a problem.

luckily, you'd soon be finding the solution to it in an unexpected way.

**page break*

"(Y/N)! (Y/N)"

it was the only thing you could hear from earshot from your closed bedroom door. It was your roommate.

she was sweet and you loved her to death but right now really wasn't the time. You were currently in the middle of a big project that was due at midnight so you were working really hard.

having your focus broken right now was not exactly what you needed.

nonetheless, she wouldn't stop calling so you got up in frustration, setting your MacBook to the other side of the bed.

you'd sling your door open and come out, only to be greeted by your energetic roommate..and a mystery person you had never seen before.

"(Y/N)! I want you to meet my brother, Aran! He's in town for the week visiting! Aran, this is my roommate and best friend, (y/n)!"

for a moment, you were stuck in place..in awe of how fine this man was!

brown skin, a pretty smile and he was tall..must've been an athlete of some kind. Reaching over, he'd extend his hand for you to shake and you'd accept.

it was then that you'd spot a very specific and oddly familiar tattoo....

maybe you were just bugging because last night, you watched him again. Because there was no way..

"Nice to meet you, miss. I hope you don't mind me crashing here with you ladies for a couple of days."

"No..not at all. Happy to have you!"

currently, your head was spinning rampant with a bunch of thoughts. The second he opened his mouth, there was no mistaking...

it was him! That voice was unmistakable.

you were thankful for your excellent poker face right now because on the inside, you were having a meltdown.

the mystery man that you had spent months fawning over was not only here in your living room but your best friend's brother?!

a fever dream at its fucking finest!.."hey, (y/n).."

it was one you weren't waking up from anytime sooner because she was about to make it worse.

"Listen, I got an appointment in like thirty minutes on the other side of town so I gotta go like right now! Aran's gonna be popping in and out, so I'm leaving him one of the keys. He ain't gone bother you, his ass barely likes to talk so you won't even know he's here."

it wasn't for a lack of trust that you didn't want that but being in the same room with this man..you were already sweating bullets.

you couldn't know for sure right now if it truly was him but you wanted to find out.

in more ways than one.

"That's fine. I'm just gonna be in my room. Just let me know if you need anything."

for some reason, this man wasn't taking his eyes off of you and it made it harder to drive the thoughts out of your head that you were in the same room as this mystery man!

"Thank you, it was real nice meeting you, miss (y/n)."

"You too! See you later."

like that, you were back off to your room and feeling even more anxious than before. All of the signs were there!

the voice, the tat, the hands..it had to be.

but you couldn't be weird about it and act funny around the man. Once you got back behind the door, you threw yourself on to the bed and tried to pretend all of that never happened.

maybe it was all in your head...or not!

_____________________________________________

a couple more days would pass and you were laying in bed, scrolling on your phone when you'd get a knock at the door.

it was later in the evening so your roommate was working right now so that only left..

"Coming."

getting up, tugging the hem of your shorts down, you'd go over to the door; cracking it open to see Aran standing there.

"Hi. Did you need something?"

"I was just wondering if you had some extra towels. My sister forgot to leave them in the guest bathroom and she didn't tell me where they were."

your heart was racing a bit but you remained calm. It was just towels, what the hell were you so worked up about?!

"Yeah, sure. There's some in mine, I'll get you one."

at this point, your curiosity was going to get the better of you so you had to ask.

he stood patiently in the door waiting, being respectful as to not enter your room but he couldn't help but get a side glance as you walked away.

his sister had mentioned you quite a bit but never how fine you were!

when you returned, you decided to strike up the conversation..

"You know, you look really familiar. I feel like I've seen you somewhere before." Playing oblivious to see how far you'd get.

at first, he just kind of stared, not really thinking anything of it. Honestly, there was no way your paths could have ever crossed.

not to his knowledge at least..

"I mean, I do a little bit of streaming from time to time. Nothing too serious though. Maybe there?"

you'd shake your head, knowing full and well what you were alluding to but you had to get him to admit it first.

he mentioned that he played a bit of ball for his college and still no hit.

"Yeah, I'm not sure. Maybe we've seen each other in passing before. But um..."

peaking back over his shoulder, he'd swirl his tongue around his lips in a quick motion and look down at you.

"I mean I'm sure we can get to know each other more. I'll be in town a little longer than I expected."

that made you excited! Get acquainted was exactly what you wanted to do. Honestly, you were just about to say fuck it and shoot your shot.

"That's good to know..I'll be around." you'd utterly sweetly, even tracing a finger down his chest.

"Bet.."

but instead of leaving immediately, he did something that shocked you. He didn't want to be disrespectful but the sexual tension between the two of you in that house was ridiculous.

two days of tiptoeing around each other, pretending otherwise was eating away at you both.

"Aye, (y/n).. lemme ask you something."

stepping closer, leaning against the doorframe as he stared down at you..he was so damn attractive, even more so in person.

"Of course."

"You can keep a secret, right? I mean, I don't take you as the type to run your mouth."

your brain began flipping in regards to what he was about to say. "Not at all.."

while he was leaning there, his eyes wandered your entire body, undressing you and so much more in his head.

if he was being totally honest, you would've been getting fucked on if you two had truly met prior to this. You were fine as hell, he couldn't lie.

but better late than never, right? Or at least make an attempt to.

"I'll be honest, I though you were fine..like damn fine and I mean, we both grown..been eyeing each other since I got here so I thought I'd come see what was up with you."

by now, he was one foot in your doorway with a finger underneath your chin. If it wasn't already clear, yes, you wanted to fuck him.

and badly.

hearing that voice up close and not through headphones for once hit different.

this was your best friend's little brother though and as wrong as it was, it was also a chance you wouldn't get again. So..

"I mean, come in and find out for yourself.."

(I'm sorry for all of the page breaks y'all but I'm bout to jump clean into the actual smut now cause I don't feel like writing a lead up lmaooo)

______________________________________________

"Damn..you sucking on this shit so good, baby..fuuuuck!"

the pitiful moans escaping his lips were the only things you could hear over the sound of your own gagging.

it didn't take long before he had you on your knees, swallowing him whole. That dick was so full, gliding in the back of your throat.

truthfully, he didn't know what had him more aroused; the way you handled him with care or the way you stared at him.

he was sitting on the edge of your bed, pants shuffled around his ankles as you pumped his shaft in and out of your palm, spitting on the tip and slapping it against your tongue.

"Shiiiit, you so fucking nasty, (y/n)..imma nut in this throat, baby..goddamn."

there was spit and remnants of his pre cum everywhere. You didn't care what you looked like or how big of a mess you made...

already, you were this man's slut! This was only the beginning though. He and you both had plenty of plans.

your roommate wasn't coming back tonight so there was plenty of time.

scooping strings of saliva into your palm, (y/n) rubbed the mixture across Aran's sack as you massaged it. He was clutching the corners of your sheets, crying out in pleasure.

"Y'know..now I remember where I've seen you before. It's even better in person, (his username)."

that took him completely off guard for a moment but eventually he'd just laugh, gently resting his hand on your head.

there was no need in denying it!

"Well damn, seems my cover is blown..how'd you know?"

his voice catching as you placed gentle kisses on his tip and continued stroking him.

"Your voice, the tattoo and of course..this pretty ass dick. Wouldn't ever forget it."

he couldn't lie, it felt good to have a woman taking care of him as opposed to his hand for once.

"Don't worry, like I said..it's our little secret. I won't say anything. I just want to see what you can do for real."

that was a relief. No one had ever figured it out so he assumed you had to be constantly viewing his videos. In exchange, he knew he had to fuck the shit out of you and leave a good impression.

"I mean, I can't disappoint one of my biggest fans, now can I? Climb up here and I'll show you, baby.."

popping his tip from your mouth, you'd rise to your feet, where he put his hand around your throat and kissed you.

a man that wasn't afraid to kiss after getting head was the sexiest in your opinion and not just tiny pecks..sucking on your tongue in the process.

pulling you onto the bed, flat on your back, Aran began to undress your heated body, piece by piece until there was nothing left.

he'd follow suit and finish taking off those pants and his shirt, leaving nothing but a watch and a small gold chain around his neck.

at first, he'd kneel down into the bed to hover over you, eyeing your frame up and down. Your body was perfect in his opinion.

thick thighs, big titties, a lot of ass and you had some stomach so he knew the pussy was good.

he was a solo artist kind of man but if he wanted a partner in his videos, you'd be the top pick!

right now, all you needed was to be pounded and he better not have come with that gentle shit. You needed it nasty and rough, just the way he talked in his content.

"..got my dick all fucking hard..so nasty with that shit, just how I like it."

when he sounded helpless, it was the best and it got you every time. He'd part your legs and crawl between them with his cock in his hand, brushing it across that slit.

"So imma treat you right, don't worry."

it was apparent that you needed no fore play but it still couldn't hurt.

his warm breath scaled your ear and neck as he left subtle kisses on your lobe. They then trailed to your throat, sucking and nibbling on it.

meanwhile, his fingers were toying with your swollen clit, gently caressing it and turning you on even more.

"This lil' pussy is so wet...yeah, I'm definitely nutting in your shit. Sorry.."

"Don't be..that's what I want."

those whiny moans kept coming and encouraging him to keep going. It was very rare that he was with another person but it didn't mean he was any less competent.

not before long, he had you creaming all over the sheets and after sucking your nipples, he knew you were ready.

he was somewhat nervous but you were already impressed, handling you with such care before he got started.

that's when he'd shift to his side a bit, positioning you on his thigh to hold you in place.

he wanted to make sure he hit your spot but that he could still see your pretty face as well.

with an arm around your waist, he'd slap that appendage against your slippery folds, trying to pace himself.

sucking his teeth, he'd steady your head and fold you to his liking; legs spread open and pent up and ready for him to do his worst.

"You ready for this dick, baby? Ready for me fuck this fat little pussy?" asking rhetorically but you liked that.

"Been ready..fuck me, please."

nodding your head, you'd chew on your finger as you both watched it go in together. The first two inches were okay but around the five or six mark, your mouth was agape.

it was thick and stretching you out but the sensation was nothing like you've ever felt. He was easing and coaching you to take it.

being dominant was more his style but he definitely didn't want to hurt you so for now, babying it was.

watching your eyes widen and then light up with excitement brought a smile to his face as well.

that was also brought on by feeling that warmth wrap around him and squeeze down on it. It had grip and was super wet..dangerous combo, honestly.

that much was apparent by his attempted subtlety in his moaning. He couldn't play around with it, that was for sure.

once he gathered himself, the thrusts would began and he'd just go slow to get his footing.

this wasn't his plan and although he had great stamina, he couldn't get too cocky and ruin the moment. His focus was on making you feel good.

and he was accomplishing his goal because you were already molding to his shape and taking it so well.

"Fuck..you feel so good. "

as he gained his pace, the thrusts would speed up and those big, full balls began making contact with your sensitive folds.

it was puffy and swollen but that didn't stop him from slowly tracing circles across it.

it was already taking its toll on you because you were making a mess on it. Sticky and creamy..it was heaven.

for the time being, the two of you kept close eye contact, watching each other's expressions.

that shock of how big he was hadn't gone anywhere and all (y/n) could do was whine helplessly as he impaled you on his dick.

he was gritting his teeth, sucking on them to stay strong as he felt you clamp down with each stroke.

"Ooh shit..take that—oh my God." at this point, he was going faster and picking up the pace, bouncing you in the process.

you wanted to cum so bad but you had to wait it out a few moments longer.

the bed underneath was shaking and becoming covered in fluids but you didn't care. Getting dick from someone like him was worth it.

he was in your ear, talking you through your nut and you were about to lose it.

"Look at you creaming on my shit, baby. That pretty pussy is doing all this for me..fuck. You wanna cum? Nut all over this big ass dick, baby?"

questioning as he pounded you nonstop. He didn't miss a beat, even while feeding kisses to your cheek.

just to make you even crazier, he'd stick his fingers in your mouth and make you spit all over them.

watching a woman like you go completely dumb and brainless for him was everything. Skin was smacking, the room was filled with loud moans and you both were reaching that climax.

"Yes, I wanna cum! I wanna fucking cum all over it..please, oh my God!"

completely helpless and begging for more, your eyes crossed and drool fell from the tip of your tongue when you cried out.

he was fucking you so good, your brain went blank and the only thought was being used as his fuck toy. After this, you didn't need anyone else.

Aran moved his hand to your throat and kissed away those tears that were falling down your cheek.

his opposite hand was still teasing that clit and he could tell you wouldn't last another minute.

no need to feel bad because he would be right behind you.

"Get your fucking nut, baby. Cum on daddy's dick..cum for me like a good girl."

his voice was so soft and comforting yet you wanted to follow every word; easily submissive to him.

that's exactly what happened and with a couple more pumps, you were pushing him out with a powerful steam of juices. That was his first time making someone squirt and he was in awe.

he couldn't help but smile when you couldn't control it yourself and the shit sprayed all over you both. He tried to hold you still but your body was spasming.

"I'm sorry! I just—"

"Naaah, what are you apologizing for? You did so good..c'mere."

he couldn't help himself and kissed you yet again. This time with slow, sloppy ones and even sucked your tongue.

if he didn't stop, you weren't letting him leave!

"You ready for some more of this dick, baby?" The way he cooed to you was so hot and you wanted to be babied like this all the time.

"Yes, please. I want more.."

so he told you to get on all fours and arch your back for him. With that ass in the air, he could see just how good it looked.

he quickly got himself in position to give you some of the best back shots you've ever had. But not without spanking you a couple times.

in response, you'd begin bouncing your ass and he'd meet them every time with his heavy hands.

"This shit heavy..goddamn." Needless to say, he was equally as infatuated with you. 

while you kept bouncing against him, he began easing back inside of you. It wasn't until he reached halfway that you were stopped in your tracks.

"Oh fuck.."

"You got it, just relax.."

bringing that hand back to your throat, he'd tilt your head up and make you look at him. He didn't waste another second..bucking his hips forward and thrusting into you.

the two of you fell into sync so easily and it was the best thing you had ever felt.

talking to you the entire time, telling you how pretty you looked taking his dick, choking and slapping your ass..you couldn't take it.

the way you were gripping the sheets, it let him know he was deep in it. You were crying out and moaning, begging for more.

"That's my good girl..fuck me back, baby." encouraging you with more slaps but he had one more thing he needed to do before releasing.

panting, Aran scuffled around in the sheets until he found your phone and swiped over to the videos.

"Since you my biggest fan and all, I gotta leave you with a little something..."

tilting your head back up, he'd lean down and start twirling your tongues together. Meanwhile, his other hand was pointing your camera at the two of you.

he was still going, rubbing on your back and pounding deeper. He was going to leave you with your own personal sex tape..and a little more.

he was practically begging you to let him nut in it and you couldn't possibly say no. You were losing all sense of control.

"This my pussy now, imma fill you with my nut. You ready, baby?"

"Yes please!.."

on the three count, you felt your womb fill with warm cum and your legs wobbling uncontrollably.

the sounds he made were enough to finish you but when he whimpered in your ear, begging you to do the same, you added to the mess.

struggling to catch your breaths, both you just fell onto the other and laid there for minutes.

neither of you had ever had anyone make you cum that hard and he was for sure going to appreciate this moment for a long time.

"You done amazing..damn."

"Better than your hand?"

you'd both laugh as he kissed your forehead and hugged you right.

"Way better."

and your sentiments were the same. "Yeah, you're definitely just as much pressure as I thought you were. I'm not disappointed at all."

maybe he should come into town more often. You'd be waiting for him, that was for sure.

“Well,” he leans over the table, finding your hands and softly stroking the knuckle there, trapping you in his coffee-cold gaze, “Are you using me for my money?”

“No,” you grumble, a little flustered at his forwardness, “But still–”

He releases your hand as the words leave your mouth, a satisfactory smile tugging at his lips, “Then there’s no issue. Though, I wouldn’t be opposed to you using me for money. I’m a useful guy.”

“Kiyoomi, that’s not the point–”

“As a matter of fact,” he sifts through his wallet to find what he’s looking for, gently sliding it across the table when he locates whatever it is, “I’ve been meaning to give this to you.”

The young waitress returns with a smooth leather checkbook and a pen. He thanks her as she walks off, delivering his signature to the flimsy receipt with a few flicks of his wrist, “What’s twenty percent of two hundred? I wasn’t good at math.”

You don’t answer that, “You can’t be serious. Kiyoomi, I can’t accept–”

“Is fifty dollars enough to tip? Fuck it, I’ll just leave sixty.”

“This is your credit card.”

“You have great eyesight,” he comments, shrugging like it’s nothing, “And I have good credit. Use it for whatever. I’ll pay it off.”

You nearly laugh at the absurdity of it all, “Since when were you so confident?”

“When you started giving me attention,” He grins easily, “I’d do a lot of things to get you to pay attention to me.”

His transparency catches you off guard, “You’re serious?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he fires back, “You’re too pretty to not be taken seriously.” 

You sigh, face feeling hot. 

“You’re too much,” It takes a great effort to fight back the grin that threatens to break through, to suppress a smile at his ease, “Let’s go home.”

“Why don’t we go find something sweet?” He offers, standing to help you into your coat, “There’s a good ice cream place around here that stays open late.”

Your shy smile gives Kiyoomi enough of an answer. Thanking the staff as the two of you head for the door, he slithers a sneaky arm around your waist.

“I’ll even let you pay,” he flirts, pulling you closer to combat the late-night temperatures, “With your new credit card, of course.”