❁❀✿

You didn’t like it. You didn’t like the way he acted like it was all easy. Like school didn’t matter. But that’s just who Miles was—he didn’t sweat the small stuff, even when it seemed like the whole world was on his shoulders. And it really bothered you that he made it look so effortless.

By the time the project rolled around, you were already fuming. Miles had put in half the work you had, and yet he somehow managed to present everything so smoothly. Everyone in class was laughing at his jokes, even the teacher. Meanwhile, you were left there, quietly simmering with frustration.

But the worst part? He got a better grade than you.

That was it. You had officially had enough.

From that day forward, your rivalry with Miles became cemented. It wasn’t about liking or disliking him anymore—it was about winning. Every test, every assignment, you pushed yourself harder, studying late into the night just to make sure you beat him. And for every grade you got, you swore it wasn’t good enough unless you saw him in your rearview mirror. You didn’t care that he was always kind to you, that he didn’t even mean to get under your skin. You were too wrapped up in your pride to care.

And Miles? Well, he seemed to be pretty clueless about the whole thing.

You’d catch him in the halls sometimes, nodding at you as you rushed to class. “Yo, you good?” he’d ask, his voice casual but with that playful edge you were growing to hate.

“Yeah, I’m good,” you’d snap back, not bothering to hide your irritation. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

He’d just shrug it off with a laugh, like it was no big deal. And that was the worst part—he never seemed to take you seriously.

You didn’t even realize how much this little “rivalry” had taken over your life until one afternoon in the library, when you were working on an English essay. You’d been going at it for hours, trying to perfect every detail. And then, of course, Miles walked in.

He didn’t see you at first. He was on his phone, tapping away with that effortless confidence of his. And you? You were staring at your screen, trying to finish the assignment without pulling your hair out.

But then, just as you thought you could focus again, you heard him.

“Yo, you still struggling with that essay?” Miles asked, glancing over your shoulder at your screen.

You rolled your eyes, doing your best to ignore him. “No, I’m fine.”

Miles raised an eyebrow. “You sure? ‘Cause, uh, I was thinking of taking a break and you look like you could use some help. You’ve been here for a minute.”

You froze. Did he just—did he just offer to help you? After all that? After the competition, the constant one-upmanship?

“No thanks,” you muttered, trying to focus back on your work. “I got it.”

But of course, Miles didn’t back off. He dropped his bag on the table with a thud and slid into the seat across from you. “Alright, alright. But don’t say I didn’t offer. I can be a real lifesaver when I want to be.”

You narrowed your eyes, half tempted to snap at him again. But you were too tired, too exhausted to keep up the fight. So instead, you just stayed quiet, letting the silence stretch between you.

Minutes passed, and to your surprise, Miles didn’t make a sound. He wasn’t on his phone anymore, he wasn’t distracting you. He was just… there. Focused. It was a weird shift. And even though you hated to admit it, you kind of respected him for it.

Eventually, Miles spoke again. “You know, you’re pretty good at this stuff.” he said, glancing at your screen. “Way more into it than you let on.”

You scoffed, but it wasn’t as sharp as it used to be. “I’m just doing what I need to do. Not everyone can just coast through things like you.”

He didn’t react like you expected him to. Instead, he smiled. “I’m not coasting. I work for it, too, you know. But… I guess I’ve got my own way of doing things.”

You wanted to argue, wanted to throw his usual attitude back in his face. But something about the way he said it made you pause. He didn’t sound unserious. He didn’t sound like he was trying to prove anything. He just sounded… genuine.

For a second, you forgot about all the competition, the petty rivalries, the jealousy. You realized, maybe, you’d been seeing him all wrong.

And that’s when it happened. Without even thinking about it, you let your guard down for the first time in a long while. “Maybe you’re not so bad,” you muttered, staring at your screen again, avoiding his eyes.

Miles grinned, that familiar lazy smile on his face. “Nah, I’m definitely bad. But I’ll take that as a compliment.”

You shot him a side-eye, but you couldn’t help the smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “You’re really something, huh?”

“Only when I’m around you, miss perfect,” he said with a wink, leaning back in his chair.

You rolled your eyes, but this time, it was more playful than anything. “Don’t call me that.”

He shrugged, tapping his fingers on the desk. “What? You don’t like it? It suits you.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Morales,” you shot back, narrowing your eyes teasingly. “I still don’t like you.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You sure about that?”

You hesitated for just a second, but then smirked, “You’re alright… for now.”

Miles chuckled, leaning in a little closer. “Well, that’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me all day. You might just be warming up to me, huh?”

You shot him a look, fighting the grin creeping onto your face. “Keep dreaming, Miles.”

With a grin of his own, he sat back in his chair. “Yeah, I’ll be waiting.”

You shook your head, turning your attention back to your work, but there was something lighter about the air now. You didn’t know when it happened, but somewhere between all the banter and silent study sessions, your rivalry had started to change.

You nodded, your heart pounding as his fingers slid higher, his touch gentle but confident. Your body tensed for a moment, but then you relaxed into him, your head resting on his shoulder as you let out a shaky breath.

“That’s it,” Hobie whispered, his voice low and soothing. “You’re doin’ so good, angel. Just let me take care of you.”

You clung to him, your hands gripping his shirt as his touch sent shivers down your spine. He was so careful, so patient, and yet there was an edge to him, like he was holding himself back with every ounce of restraint he had. You could feel the way his breathing had quickened, the way his body tensed beneath you, but he didn’t rush, didn’t push.

His lips brushed against your cheek. “You’re alright. I’ve got you.”

You shifted slightly on his lap. The tension in the room felt electric, every small movement heightening the warmth pooling low in your belly. Hobie’s thumb traced slow, deliberate circles on your upper thigh, just above the hem of your shorts, and you swore he could feel the way your body was trembling.

His hand slowly inched upwards. You couldn’t look at him, your face burning with embarrassment at how wet you already were. You tried to shift, but it only pressed you closer to him, and the small gasp that escaped your lips made him chuckle softly.

“Easy, love,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. “Ain’t nothin’ to be shy about.”

You could feel his eyes on you, warm and steady, even as you buried your face against his shoulder. His hand slid even higher, his fingers brushing against the soft fabric between your thighs, and your breath hitched. You tried to squeeze your legs together, but his knee shifted beneath you, keeping them open.

“You’re soaked,” he said, his voice dropping an octave. The way he said it wasn’t teasing—it was awestruck, like he couldn’t believe the effect he had on you. His free arm tightened around your waist, pulling you even closer to him. “That all for me, pretty girl?”

You let out a soft whine, your hands clutching at his shirt as you tried to hide your face. “I can’t help it,” you admitted, your voice shaky.

“Don’t want you to,” he said, his lips brushing against your temple. “You’re perfect like this.”

His middle finger pressed gently against you, the sensation sending a jolt of heat through your body. Your hips shifted instinctively, and he let out a low groan, his restraint starting to fray at the edges.

“Let me make you feel good,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. “Promise I’ll take care of you.”

You nodded, your breath coming in short, shaky gasps as you finally looked up at him. His eyes were dark, filled with a mix of adoration and hunger, but there was no mistaking the care in his expression. He waited for your answer, his hand stilling against you, and it wasn’t until you whispered, “Okay,” that he moved again.

His fingers slid under the fabric, his touch featherlight at first, like he was testing your reaction. He slowly brushed his thumb against your clit, moving in circles. Your head fell back against his shoulder, a soft moan escaping your lips as his fingers worked.

“That’s it,” he whispered. “Just let go, love. I’ve got you.”

One of his fingers teased your slit, slowly pushing into your pussy and curling it just right. You clung to him, your body trembling as he worked you over with practiced ease, his free arm keeping you steady against him. The tension in your body built quickly, and you could feel the heat in his gaze as he watched you fall apart in his arms.

When your breathing grew more erratic, and your hips bucked against his hand, he slowed down, teasing you just enough to keep you on the edge. “Not yet, angel,” he murmured, a wicked grin tugging at his lips. “Wanna see how far I can take you.”

“Hobie, please,” you whimpered, your voice desperate as you squirmed in his lap.

He only chuckled, pressing a kiss to your jaw. “Patience, love. I’ll give you what you need—just not yet.”

“Hobie,” you whimpered, your voice trembling as you squirmed against him. The ache in your core was unbearable, the heat between your thighs spreading through your whole body. Every nerve felt alight, and yet he wasn’t giving you what you so desperately needed. “Please.”

He smirked, his mouth brushing the shell of your ear as his fingers slowed their rhythm, dragging torturously over the spot that made you shudder. “Please what, love?” His voice was a low rumble, teasing yet soft, as if he didn’t already know exactly what you wanted.

Your hands clutched at his shirt, pulling at the fabric in frustration as you buried your face in his neck. “You know what I mean,” you mumbled, your voice muffled against his skin.

“Yeah, I do,” he admitted, the grin in his tone unmistakable. “But I like hearin’ you say it.”

You lifted your head just enough to glare at him, though the heat in your cheeks softened the effect. His dark eyes locked with yours, and the intensity there made your stomach flip. “You’re so annoying,” you muttered, though there was no real heat behind the words.

“And you’re so beautiful,” he countered, his voice low and full of warmth. His free arm tightened around your waist, holding you closer. “Especially like this. All worked up, all mine.”

The tone of his voice sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn’t stop the small moan that slipped past your lips. His fingers paused completely, and you whined in protest, your hips bucking instinctively against his hand.

“Hobie, don’t stop,” you begged, your voice desperate now.

He tilted his head, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your jawline. “Not stoppin’, angel,” he murmured against your skin. “Just takin’ my time. Wanna make this good for you. Better than good.”

His fingers resumed their movements, but slower this time, more deliberate. The tension in your body built again, and you felt like you were teetering on the edge of something you couldn’t quite name. Your breath came in short, uneven gasps, and your nails dug into his arm as you tried to hold yourself together.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” he muttered, his eyes fixed on your sex. “Such a pretty little pussy. Can feel you clenchin’ around me, love. You’re so sensitive.”

You nodded frantically, unable to form words as the pressure inside you grew unbearable. But just as you felt yourself tipping over the edge, he slowed again, pulling you back from release.

“Hobie!” you cried out, your voice laced with frustration and desperation. “Why are you—why won’t you let me—”

He chuckled, his free hand brushing a strand of hair from your face as he kissed your temple. “Patience, sweetheart,” he said softly, though the mischievous glint in his eyes betrayed him. “You’re gonna thank me for this later.”

You whimpered, your head falling back against his shoulder as your body trembled with need. “You’re evil,” you muttered, though the breathless tone of your voice made it sound more like a compliment.

“Maybe,” he admitted, pressing another kiss to your jaw. “But you love it.”

His fingers sped up again, thumb rubbing your clit in tight circles as he thrusted a long finger into you. This time, the tension was unbearable, the heat coiling tighter and tighter until you couldn’t think of anything but him. You clung to him, your breath hitching as you finally felt yourself cresting the edge—

And then he stopped completely.

“Hobie!” you practically sobbed, your voice breaking as you tried to press your hips against his hand, but his arm around your waist held you firmly in place.

“Shh, love,” he cooed, his lips brushing against your temple as he nuzzled into your hair. “I know you’re frustrated, but trust me. You’ll feel so much better when it finally happens.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, both from the overwhelming sensations and the sheer frustration of being denied. “You’re so mean,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

He laughed slightly, the sound warm and low as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “Mean? Nah. Just know how to take care of you.”

His fingers moved again, slow at first but quickly building back to that same relentless rhythm, and you realized with a shuddering breath that he wasn’t stopping this time. His fingers grew faster and faster and you struggled to keep up with the overwhelming pressure in your body.

“Let go, angel,” he whispered, his voice rough with need. “I’ve got you. Let me feel you fall apart for me.”

And when you finally did, it was like every nerve in your body ignited at once, the release so intense it left you trembling and gasping in his arms. His name spilled from your lips like a prayer, and he held you close, whispering soft praises as he guided you through the waves of pleasure. He was right. You came long and hard.

“See?” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your damp forehead as you slumped against him, utterly spent. “Told you it’d be worth it.”

You didn’t have the energy to respond, but the small smile on your lips was answer enough.

As you tried to catch your breath, your head still spinning from the intensity of it all, Hobie shifted beneath you. You barely noticed the movement until his free hand came into view, his fingers glistening slightly in the low light.

Before you could process it, he brought his fingers to his lips, his dark eyes locking onto yours with a heated intensity. Slowly, deliberately, he dragged his tongue along the length of his fingers, tasting every trace of you.

The action was shameless, almost sinful, and your cheeks burned as you watched him. "Hobie..." you breathed, your voice barely audible.

He smirked, the corner of his mouth curling up as he slid his fingers fully into his mouth, savoring the taste like it was the finest thing he'd ever had. "You taste so sweet, love," he murmured, his voice rough and low, sending a fresh wave of heat through your body.

You swallowed hard, unable to look away, your legs still draped over his lap as his arm remained snug around your waist. The way he was watching you—like he was ready to devour you all over again—made your stomach twist with a mix of embarrassment and lingering desire.

"You're ridiculous," you muttered, burying your face in his shoulder to escape his intense gaze.

He chuckled, the sound vibrating against your skin as he leaned in to kiss the top of your head. "Nah, just honest," he said, his tone softer now. "Could taste you forever and never get tired of it."

Your breath hitched, and you hid your face even further, your fingers clutching at his shirt. He always knew exactly how to leave you speechless, and he was clearly enjoying every second of it. He was clearly holding back, atleast for now, as you felt him wrap his arms around you again and mutter praises against your ear.

I turned to face him, intrigued. "Hm? Why not?" I shift my position to hug my legs, tilting my head onto my knees. His lip curved up faintly.

"Sky's too polluted where I'm from, honestly. Can't see shit for most of it." He sighs, looking up at the sky again. "S' a bloody shame."

My face crinkled in sympathy. "That must be horrible." I couldn't imagine not being to see the sunlight, suffocated by a murky atmosphere and diminishing stars.

He shrugged casually. "Oh c'mon now, you ain't gotta pity me." His smile returns. "It's not a big deal, luv. S somethin' I'm used to. Nothin' more." I reach for his hand, interlacing my fingers through his in a display of affection.

"Well, you better enjoy it right now, then."

He's already enjoying it. Of course he is, I was with him. He nods, watching the light saturate into a darker color. "So, tell me more about that college project you're working on, eh?"

A few minutes later, I was rapidly rambling to him about quantum holes and the space time continuum. Hobie had been intently listening, playing with his shoelace. He'd be lying if he said he understood what I were talking about, but it was pretty fascinating to hear. He only began to get distracted when his gaze wandered to my face, watching the way my eyes seemed to light up while explaining the project. Each detail of my features held his undivided attention, his eyes softening as I continued speaking, unaware of his zoned-out state.

He felt that familiar feeling. The feeling he always gets in when he's with me, except it was greater now, fluttering in his stomach and making him feel all warm and safe. The more staring he did, the less he was really listening to what I were saying.

"And I thought that researching this could be great, because we're also dealing with this issue in the society-" I pause for a second, a bit taken aback by the intent stare he was giving me. My brows furrow. "Uhm, is there something on my face..?"

He stays silent for a second, swallowing the lump in his throat. He was afraid that if he spoke too quick, his words would falter mid-sentence. After a moment, his voice was fragile. "You're bloody beautiful, you know that?"

Now I was the flustered one. Redness creeped into my cheeks as I did a double take at his abrupt confession. "I...wow."

He took a deep breathe, snapping out of his state and chuckling at my response. "Sorry, darling. You're just so distracting." He pulls back, staring at me again, with unrestrained affection.

I take a deep breath to calm down my racing heart, trying to act nonchalant. "Well, you're gonna miss the sunset if you keep looking at me like that."

"Fuck the sunset. The view here's better anyway."

A laugh bubbles on my lips, music to his ears. "You mean that?"

'Of course luv. I always do." He wrapped an arm around my smaller frame, and we both turn our heads back to the view, hearts buzzing with joy.