Movie Night Gone Wrong (or Right?)
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đŒđđđđŸđđ, đđșđđđđ đđđ, đđđđŒđđ!đđșđđŸ, đœđŸđđđŸđđșđđđđ
Movie nights with Jake had become a ritual since you both started collegeâa way to unwind after endless lectures, assignments, and the general chaos of university life. Tonight was supposed to be no different: your dorm room, dim lighting, snacks scattered across the bed, and whatever movie Jake had picked on Netflix.
"This one's supposed to be really good," Jake says as he settles beside you on the bed, remote in hand. He's wearing that oversized hoodie you love, the one that makes him look soft and boyfriend-shaped, his dark hair still slightly damp from the shower he took after basketball practice.
"You said that about the last three movies," you tease, stealing a piece of popcorn from the bowl balanced on his lap.
"Hey! I have great taste in movies," he protests, but he's grinning, that boyish smile that made you fall for him in the first place.
The movie startsâsome indie film that Jake swore had great reviewsâand for the first twenty minutes, you're both actually watching. You're curled into his side, his arm around your shoulders, thumb drawing absent-minded circles on your arm. It's comfortable, familiar, perfect.
Then his hand starts wandering.
It's subtle at first. His fingers trailing from your shoulder down your arm, then to your waist. His touch is light, almost teasing, like he's testing boundaries he's already crossed a hundred times before. You don't think much of itâJake's always been tactile, touchy in a way that makes you feel wanted and cherished.
"You comfortable?" he murmurs, lips close to your ear.
"Mhm," you respond, eyes still on the screen even though you're becoming increasingly aware of his touch.
His hand slides under the hem of your (his) t-shirt, palm warm against your skin. Still innocent enough, still casual. But then his fingers start tracing patterns on your stomach, dipping just slightly lower with each pass, and you feel your breath catch.
"Jake," you whisper, and you can hear the smile in his voice when he responds.
"Are you even watching the movie?"
"Movie?" His hand slides higher, fingers brushing just below your breast. "Oh. Yeah. Totally watching."
You turn your head to look at him and find him already staring at you, eyes dark with want. The movie is completely forgotten, just flickering light and background noise at this point.
"You're such a liar," you breathe, but you're smiling.
"Can't help it," he admits, shifting so he's facing you more directly. "You're so much more interesting than whatever's on screen." His hand cups your face, thumb brushing your cheek. "You're so beautiful. Have I told you that today?"
"Like three times," you laugh softly, but your heart still flutters.
"Not enough then." He leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss that starts sweet but quickly deepens. His tongue traces your bottom lip, asking for entrance, and you grant it willingly. The taste of himâpopcorn and mint from the gum he'd been chewing earlierâis familiar and intoxicating.
His hands are everywhere now, one tangled in your hair, the other sliding down your side, grabbing your hip, pulling you closer. The movie is definitely abandoned at this point, the plot completely lost as Jake kisses you like he's been starving for it.
"Missed you," he mumbles against your lips, which is ridiculous because you literally saw each other this morning.
"I'm right here," you point out, but he shakes his head.
"Not close enough. Never close enough." His lips trail from your mouth to your jaw, down your neck, finding that spot that makes you gasp. "Can I... can we...?"
He's always so polite about it, always asking even though you've been together for months, even though the answer is always yes. It's one of the things you love about himâhow he never assumes, never takes.
"Yes," you breathe, and you feel him smile against your skin.
He shifts, gently laying you back against the pillows, his body hovering over yours. The movie casts flickering shadows across his face as he looks down at you, and god, he's so beautiful it almost hurts. Dark eyes full of want, lips kiss-swollen, hair falling into his eyes.
"You're so perfect," he says softly, reverently, like he can't quite believe you're real. His hands slide under your shirt, pushing it up slowly, giving you plenty of time to stop him if you want. You don't want to stop him. You never want him to stop touching you.
"Jake," you whimper as his lips find your collarbone, kissing, sucking, definitely leaving marks that you'll have to cover up tomorrow.
"Love the sounds you make," he murmurs against your skin. "Could listen to you all day."
His hands are working at your shorts now, fingers hooking into the waistband. He looks up at you, eyes seeking permission even though his fingers are literally trembling with want.
"Please," you say, lifting your hips to help him, and the groan he makes is absolutely sinful.
"So eager for me," he says, and there's something almost awed in his voice as he pulls your shorts and underwear down in one smooth motion. "So pretty."
He settles between your legs, hands on your thighs, and just looks at you for a moment. The intensity of his gaze makes you squirm, makes you want to close your legs, but his grip keeps them open.
"Don't hide from me," he says softly. "Want to see all of you."
"Jake, pleaseâ" You're not even sure what you're asking for, just that you need more, need him closer, need his mouth on you.
"I've got you, baby," he promises, and then his mouth is on your inner thigh, kissing, biting gently, working his way up with agonizing slowness. "Gonna take care of you."
When his mouth finally reaches where you need him most, the first touch of his tongue makes you gasp, hands flying to his hair. He groans against you, the vibration making you whimper.
"Taste so good," he mumbles, and then he's diving in like a man starved, tongue working you with single-minded focus. He's always been enthusiastic about this, always acted like getting you off is his favorite activity, and the way he's moaning against you makes it clear he's enjoying this as much as you are.
Your fingers tighten in his hair, and he groans again, the sound muffled but desperate. One of his hands grips your thigh, keeping you open for him, while the other slides up to interlace with yours, grounding you both.
"Jakeâfuckâright thereâ" Your words dissolve into incoherent sounds as he focuses on your clit, alternating between broad strokes with his tongue and focused attention that has you seeing stars.
He pulls back just enough to speak, chin glistening. "You're so responsive for me. So perfect. Love making you feel good." Then he's back, adding a finger alongside his tongue, and the combination has you arching off the bed.
"That's it," he encourages between movements. "Let me hear you. Don't hold back."
You couldn't hold back if you tried. Every movement of his tongue, every curl of his fingers inside you draws sounds from your throat that should probably be embarrassing but you're too far gone to care. The movie is still playing in the background, completely ignored, just white noise compared to the sounds Jake is pulling from you.
"So close," you gasp, and you feel him smile against you.
"I know, baby. I can feel it. Come for me. Want to taste you." His fingers curl inside you, finding that spot that makes you cry out, and his tongue focuses on your clit with determined precision.
The combination sends you over the edge, pleasure crashing through you in waves that have you gasping his name like a prayer. He works you through it, tongue gentle now, fingers slowing but not stopping until you're pulling at his hair, too sensitive for more.
He presses a final kiss to your inner thigh before crawling back up your body, face flushed, lips swollen, eyes bright with satisfaction. When he kisses you, you can taste yourself on his tongue, and it should probably be weird but it's just hot.
"You're incredible," he murmurs against your lips. "Could do that forever."
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