Nightvers

When I finally break from my trance and look up at him—having felt like all of this happened in slow-motion despite not even being a minute’s worth of time—I find myself caring a lot less than I would have if I'd just spilled coffee over… well, just about anyone else.

“Oops,” I ooze sarcasm, shooting him the most obvious of fake smiles, fully intending to just keep walking past him. Silvio quickly moves to grab my arm, exasperated by the cold shoulder he was given after something he didn’t even cause. This time, anyway. The sound of jewelry jangling is all too familiar, akin hearing war drums the moment it's within the vicinity.

Was there really any one solid reason I hated Silvio? I pondered. No.. it was hard to narrow it down to just one, actually. The way he always seemed to carry himself, especially around me, had never quite rubbed me the right way; let alone us not having gotten off on the right foot to begin with.

It had all started when I'd made the grave error of sitting next to him one god-awful Monday for a sociology lecture I'd been late to after having overslept. Silvio made sure it was absolute torture for me; relentlessly teasing everything from the pajama pants I'd forgotten to change out of to the night before’s smudged mascara still somewhat stuck to my cheeks.

But it was the little things about him, I think, that piss me off the most. How arrogant he was, how much of a know-it-all he was, and how he always seemed to be bragging about his money and status, flaunting it endlessly despite my scowls and disgust.

So as I come back to the moment, watching as Silvio prattles my ear off, it dawns on me that he's expecting an answer to a question I'd never even heard. The entirety of his monologue had sounded to me much the way a fish in a bowl would hear anything, truthfully. (And the mental imagine of his face on a fish's head, fins at his hips, is a priceless one indeed.)

“Come again?” Not bothering to hide my disdain, my eyes lazily flick from Silvio's ruined jumper to the crease in his brows. I secretly have to bite the inside of my cheek just to hide the laughter that once again threatens to spill past my lips at the reminder of his sorry state.

Silvio begins to repeat himself, but not before ocean blue eyes roll to high heavens, dramatically running a hand through his dual-toned hair and— Wait, since when had his hands looked that nice? The sunlight caught his eyes just right and— I mentally slapped myself to try and focus; something it was starting to feel like I was incapable of today.

“I asked ya," Silvio scoffs, "what you were gonna do to remedy the situation.” He arches a brow and crosses his arms expectantly, instantly regretting it and uncrossing his arms as his sweater sticks to his skin in all the wrong ways.

“Oh, that.. I was planning on remedying my mood by walking away from you entirely,” I chastise, mocking his sour attitude with a petulant huff.

As if he wasn’t already tired from a long day, running into me had apparently been the cherry on top; Silvio was about ready to tear me and my smart mouth a new one by this point. Getting on his bad side was a social death sentence for most—yet somehow, I have yet to experience the horrors other students still whisper about. No one's sure why, but it feels like everyone's waiting for the moment the other shoe finally drops.

“Look here, Lady.” His words quickly fall flat, his expression morphing as if it had burned his tongue to even call me anything less than offensive. “Listen to me, and listen damn well. I couldn’t give less of a shit what ya wanted; much less if ya rathered I drop dead right now, bitch. You fucked up and spilled your coffee on me." Silvio's hands shake slightly, but it goes unnoticed with all the words being thrown at my face in rapid suggestion.

"Get it together and fix the situation now, or I’ll fix you my damn myself. And trust me, it won’t be pretty,” Silvio spat, turning red in the face by the time he’s finished yelling at me in the near-desolate campus parking garage.

“I hate to break it to you, but the situation will never be pretty. Not as long as it somehow involves you, Silvio,” I snort, leaving him to stew in a puddle of blind rage and coffee stains.

It isn’t until about two weeks later that I even see Silvio again—but you can be sure that he hasn't forgotten about his revenge for even a minute since. The opportunity had all but fallen into his lap, and Silvio was never one to say no to a "good deal". Catching sight of me in his peripheral, my attention was glued to the notes spread before me, spending another day at the library studying for final exams. It was just his luck that I'd picked today of all days to wear a white top—one of the boldest fashion choices in a bustling campus. To Silvio, revenge was a dish best served old. But to me, karma was about to be a royal, bling-covered bitch—and I was about to find out its name took on the form of Silvio Ricci today.

Just as I'm turning the page to answer one of the final questions in my psychology course's study guide, I see someone trip out of the corner of my eye, noticing a second too late to dodge the oncoming downpour of an entire bottle of red Gatorade.

Once again in slow motion, I watch what looks and feels like a murder scene of both my hard work and innocent shirt. All the meanwhile Silvio has the audacity to smirk at me before acting the victim. As he gets up to go clean off his arm in the bathroom, I grab onto it and glare daggers into his thick skill. (Thirty-six of them, to be precise.) If looks could kill, Silvio would have already been at least halfway through his own funeral service by now.

“There somethin' that seems to be the matter, Lady?” He grins cheekily at my shivering form, lips upturning further victoriously when I can’t seem to find an answer fast enough for his liking. “Suits ya, bein' quiet for once. Hah, looks like ya got all wet for me, too.” Silvio’s gone before I can blink twice, satisfied with having been able to even the score.. for now.

And so the childish war between two grown adults began in full; with either of us attempting to trip one another, or steal a parking spot from the other, or just screw each other over at the campus cafeteria somehow. Both of our friend groups were honestly sick and tired of the way we would act when it came to the other, and had decided upon a revenge of their own. They'd begun preparing a mouse trap of sorts, meant to get us both two dispel the underlying tension that had allegedly gone unnoticed to everyone but the both of us. And by gods, did they pray it would work.

One of my closest friends had invited us over to a dorm she’d claimed was having a party, and after finals were over, I was more than happy to oblige. (Phase 1 complete.) Meanwhile, Silvio's friends had lied through their teeth, managing to convince him that they were bringing over a sampling of rare liquors for everyone to try. (Phase 2 complete.)

It wasn’t until I was forcibly shoved into the bathroom of said dorm upon arriving and heard the door lock from the outside that I'd noticed Silvio sitting against the sink, having already been locked inside before I arrived. He may not have been Einstein, but he was certainly no idiot; and now that he knew what his friends’ plan had been all along, he was absolutely furious.

“Are ya fuckin' kiddin' me?! So what, this was their master plan? Lock us both in a room and hope we don’t kill each other?” Silvio runs a hand through his messy hair for the umpteenth time since being stuck in the small room, feeling as if his roots would be tugged out any minute now. Just what he needed to get his mind off another fight with his asshole of a father, of another week of busting his ass for results no one cared about—yet always expected of him.

“Or maybe they were hoping you’d confess your undying love for me already! Aww, how romantic..” I gasp theatrically, hands over my mouth and heart while I feign hope even at his deadpan expression in response. With a roll of my own eyes, I move to look around. “Did they at least leave us any food or drinks?” Taking in the bare-bones bathroom that feels more like a prison cell, I'm grateful to at least still have my phone with me, if nothing else.

“I’d sooner eat a whole cake in one sitting.” Silvio stands upright to each over and once again attempt to open the door somehow. I simply watch him struggle, taking a seat atop the sink and trying to lie to myself about totally not checking out his nice ass from here. Perhaps one could loathe someone’s entire being and yet still think that maybe, just maybe, they weren’t completely unattractive. (And other lies I'd tell myself as I absolutely did not imagine scratching up his broad shoulders. Nope, not even for a second...)

I hadn’t even realized I was busy daydreaming until Silvio had snapped me out of it. “The hell are you thinkin' about that you’re bitin' your lip like that for?” he muses, wondering why I'd seemingly been eerily calm instead of trying to bite his head off by now. “Ya must be real hungry or somethin' if you’re even more of a space case than normal.”

“Yeah, starving.” Lying seems to be all I can do today, and it’s all I can do to keep myself from losing my grip on the last thread of my sanity.

“You’re always welcome to eat my ass,” he retorts, grinning triumphantly as if he’d been dangling a treasure in front of me I couldn't have. Fine, then. It's not like I cared about his nice ass anyway.

“First of all, what ass? And second of all, fuck you.” I picked at my nails, starting to feel boredom hit. Not even our fighting felt like it had any of the usual fire to it when we were cramped in this dingy little broomcloset of a dorm washroom.

“Fuck me? Well, if that’s how you’d like to kill your time in here. But don't come cryin' when no one else ever comes close.” Silvio teases back, curious as to how far he could push the boundaries, wanting to finally see me break under pressure.

“The nerve– To think I would ever fuck you. In your dreams, Ricci!” I scoffed at the proposition, as if I hadn’t just been wondering what it would sound like when I'd make him moan my name and beg for more mere moments ago.

“In my dreams or yours, Lady? Is that why there are always bags under your eyes? Are all those wet dreams of me leavin' ya restless?” I felt my jaw drop at his shameless statements, racking my typically witty brain to come up with any sort of retort. But any conscious thought left my brain when Silvio leans in and purrs indecently at my ear. His rich, spicy scent envelops me just before the warmth he exudes presses against me, an arm snaking around my waist. “Why not make your dreams a reality then? I'll let ya.. just this once.”

I'm unsure of just how it happens or why I go for it—but before I know it, I've pulled Silvio in by the collar, sucking on his bottom lip, then dragging it with my teeth as I pull back. Interestingly enough, Silvio had gone stiff as a board, pink in the cheeks and looking anywhere but at me.

“The.. The fuck was that for?” he asks, incredulous, hoping to mask the tremor in his voice. "Now you've really gone and–"

“Don’t start what you can’t finish,” I murmur as I lean back into my seated position, almost falling deeper into the sink before his arms reflexively shoot out to catches me. Silvio's arms around my waist as he stands between my legs has me feeling some kind of way.. And belatedly, I realize it isn’t long before I've found myself devouring his lips in another kiss. Silvio shudders and lets out a stifled groan when my lips move down to kiss across the expanse of his throat, pausing to suck at his Adam's apple and making his hips buck in the process.

“You’re all talk, aren’t you?” My eyes sparkle at the realization, watching as Silvio freezes in fear of being caught. “You act tough, but you get flustered so easily.. Hah, bet you'd let me boss you around in bed– No, actually.. You're already getting off on this, aren't you?” The newfound confidence seemingly oozes out through my pores, a wicked grin playing upon my lips as my nails scratch lightly along his spine and over the thigh fabric of his silky top, forcing a shiver from him.

“So tell me, are you gonna be a good boy for me.. or am I gonna have to punish you like the little bitch who's always barking at me?” My words don't falter, eyes gleefully registering the way his mouth runs dry, swallowing hard.

“A-as if I would ever– Oi, watch your hands! Ngh..” Oh, this will be fun. I've only gotten to be the dominant party a handful of times to date, but I'd been craving the feeling and power that this kind of intimacy brings for awhile now. Let alone the fact that I'd just managed to get the Silvio Ricci—current bane of my existence—on his knees for me, in every sense.

I remain seated at the edge of the sink, having tugged my dress upwards just enough so that Silvio could properly eat me out. He wasn’t bad at all, I had to admit, but it wasn’t his tongue alone that had impressed me, no, it was his fingers. He had long, slender fingers that curved just right inside me, making me clutch at the edge of the sink until my knuckles paled. As I watched his free hand reach down to coax his length through his pants, I reached for his hair and pulled him away from my core, a shimmering string of my arousal still connecting us.

“Did I tell you you could touch yourself?” Silvio grunted and furrowed his brows, lightly glaring up at me as if it would be enough change my mind. He felt as if he was going insane from ignoring his throbbing length, desperate for some relief himself. “You’ll only get to come if you play nice and make me come first.. So if I catch you touching yourself again, you're gonna regret it,” I scold, clicking my tongue with a light tug at his hair.

Silvio's fingers ram into me with speed and force unparalleled, sucking at my clit and ravaging that spongy spot deep inside that has me seeing stars. He makes me come around two of his fingers, lightly nipping at my clit, and my hands can’t decide whether to pull him closer or push him away entirely. I end up opting for the latter as it all becomes too much, breaking away from him to catch my breath as he pants from the intensity of his efforts.

“Should I be nice and let you have some fun now?” To which Silvio's hands grip my thighs a little tighter in his desperation, unconsciously letting out a small groan at just the thought of release, aching and weeping from the start.

I guide him to sit on the floor with his legs stretching out as best as the small space allows, straddling his lap and unbuckling his belt before tugging his jeans and briefs down just enough to free his throbbing shaft. I slowly take the thick length in my hand, just barely grazing at first and luring him into a false sense of security. Silvio closes his eyes and leans his head against the wall behind him, a string of profanities leaving his mouth as my own now sucks at his tip. My thumb runs down his sensitive shaft, deeming him more than hard enough by now after all my teasing.

“Ah ah, open your eyes, I want you to look at me,” I command all the while peeling his arms away from my hips, allowing them to settle on my lower thighs instead so he wouldn’t be able to control my movements. Weakly, Silvio opens his bleary eyes to look up at my face, wondering when the little devil in front of him suddenly became the angel on top of him, holding the key to a paradise of pleasure.

I grab his cock as my hips slowly sink downwards, running his length through my wet folds. Relishing in the whimper he unconsciously lets out before I completely lower myself onto him, I slide down until my thighs make full contact with the denim beneath my own. Short, jagged breaths escape past Silvio's lips, his vision blurring as his glassy eyes try to fathom the pleasure of my tight, wet heat encasing his needy cock.

“Fuck.. C'mon, do somethin', anythin', already,” Silvio mutters, worried about what might happen now if he disobeys, but too horny (and too Silvio) to stay quiet, let alone outright beg. Smirking at the state he's been reduced to, I shush him by teasingly slipping my tongue past his lips, beginning to ascend off his shaft before lowering back down again, repeating the process in a tortuously slow manner. I bask in every single one of Silvio's moans that are swallowed by the kiss, a few grunts of my own mixing in when my self control begins to slip.

Grinding against him every time I descend and meet the added friction of his pelvis against my clit, the uncomfortable feeling of rough denim and pointed zippers digging into my thighs doesn't even register. Chasing my second orgasm, I remind him that he can’t cum until I give him the ok, rubbing furiously at my clit until I'm seeing white and the coil in my belly snaps taut.

The world goes dark for a moment until I come to again, my ragged breaths fanning against the sensitive skin at his neck. My lips curl into a cheshire grin at the sight of Silvio's jaw tightening, fingers digging into my thighs as he struggles to hold back his release. After just having finished coming all over his cock, I pull off him and climb off his lap, leaving Silvio bewildered. He was more than likely wondering why I was tucking him away and zipping his jeans back up.

“The fuck? This wasn't part of the deal! I made ya come, so where's my–” Silvio growls, grabbing at the hem of my dress with a mixture of frustration and confusion, chest heaving and eyes wide with disbelief. But despite the hunger and his desire to claw at me, Silvio hesitated, unsure if he'd be left hanging for pushing too far.

Being this pent-up wasn't something Silvio Ricci ever had to deal with. As a matter of fact, he didn't feel like he was acting himself today at all. Silvio had never been in this position before, and he almost hates that he's enjoying it as much as he has, especially given who's the one holding the metaphorical leash. (Metaphorical for now, perhaps..)

Why the hell was he letting anyone put him through this level of humiliation? Perhaps all the in-family fighting and stress was getting to him, and not having to make decisions for once felt.. surprisingly more pleasant than he'd expected. Though he'd definitely like it a lot more if he actually got to finish..

“Sshh, it’s ok, you’ll get to cum. We’re just.. doing something different now.” Silvio's too wrapped up in finally being allowed to come that he thinks nothing of my devious grin, his brain practically mush at this point under the heavenly feeling of contact once again. I stroke his length over his jeans, placing open-mouthed kisses across his stomach as I wait for the exact moment to enact my revenge, a flawless victory. And I get my wish just a few short moments later when he’s coming hard and fast. A large, dark, wet spot forms across the front of his light blue jeans as I'd neglected to pull his briefs back up, allowing for all of it to seep right through.

While Silvio rides out the waves of his release, I stand up to fix myself up with the aid of the bathroom mirror, making sure I'm presentable when I reach over to jangle the doorknob. And sure enough, it finally gives way this time. Looking back at Silvio who still looks blissed out on the floor, I bend down to wish him farewell.

“Thanks for the orgasms, I guess.” The corners of his lips quirk in return, a surge of pride flowing through him, thinking he's won by making me admit he'd gotten me off; more than once, even. Until...

“Have fun rejoining everyone looking like.. that.” I let out a dark giggle, sadistic glee in my eyes that drink up the view one last time before walking out of the washroom and out of the dorm altogether.

Only once I was fully out of sight and Silvio had gotten over his post orgasmic bliss did the meaning of my words sink in… I'd gotten my revenge by leaving him with an even more questionable stain than coffee or Gatorade could ever leave, making it look like he’d just finished jerking off in the bathroom by himself.

Silvio attempts to quietly leave the restroom and flee his friends' dorm room, but is unsuccessful as he runs into all three roommates, eyes widening comically upon their collective laughter. It looked like this war was far from over, but perhaps a truce could be called in the form of the age old system of enemies with benefits?

Deep down, Silvio didn't exactly hate my guts.. but he did hate losing, he'd always been a sore loser—and a real petty one at that. The only thing more sore than Silvio after taking an L was going to be my body after a night of his own payback, he was sure of that. So why did the thought alone have him growing hard again? It was just spite, surely.. But no amount of alcohol that evening could get his mind off the way I'd looked, sounded, and felt earlier. Fuck... this was gonna be the longest night of his life.