lonely smut club

You’re used to the typical Tinder meetup on a Friday night, having the best seat in the house to watch something either flourish or completely burn from behind the bar. You can’t help but get invested, listening in on the tentative conversation between strangers who don’t know much about each other beyond name, age, and sexual preference. There’s always that same thick, woolly blanket of awkwardness hanging around both people for the first twenty minutes at least, and from that point on either it goes really well, or completely flatlines.

On this particular Friday night, it’s pretty obvious that the dreadlocked, bespectacled woman sitting alone at the bar is nervously awaiting a companion she hasn’t met in person before now. She checks her phone every few minutes, the bright pink hue of the dating app reflecting in the lenses of her well-suited glasses, and mostly ignores the pint of beer you poured her ten minutes ago. She’s pretty, really pretty—and definitely gay. You don’t yet have confirmation on that assumption, but your radar’s been going off since she stepped foot in the place.

As you finish serving another customer, you walk back over to find her chewing at her thumb, cat-lined eyes boring holes in the wooden front door of the bar. Poor thing—does she think her eyes are magnets? They won’t magically draw in whoever she’s waiting for, whoever doesn’t seem to be coming at this point. It’s been at least twenty minutes now.

“Hey,” you say, and it takes her a moment to register that she’s being spoken to. Reluctantly, she tears her eyes away from the entrance, turning a little in her bar stool. “Drink this,” you finish, a warm twinkle in your eye.

You finish pouring a whisky shot, sliding it over to her.

“Oh, nah, I’m good with the beer,” the brunette insists with a lax smile, gesturing at the pint she’s barely touched.

“Listen—I’m getting anxiety just watching you,” you say as you begin mixing another drink for a customer on the other side of the bar, deft hands snatching up each ingredient as you go. “You won’t get drunk off the one, but you’ll be more relaxed when they show up. It’s on the house, too.”

You reach for a slice of lime to top off the drink, meeting her eyes just as you stick it on the rim of the glass. She seems to be contemplating your offer, and as you turn away to deliver the drink, you see her reach out for the shot glass in the corner of your eye. By the time you’ve walked back over, the glass is empty. With a triumphant, knowing smirk, you take the glass to put it with the other dirty glasses below the counter.

“Um, hey—thanks for that,” she says, the depths of her eyes filled with gratitude. “Also… how’d you know I’m waiting for someone?”

“Something about the way you were pretty much vibrating in your seat, the constant checking your phone,” you reply with some nonchalance, though a smile turns your lips upward. “And I’ve been working behind a bar long enough to know. Plus, you’ve been eyeing the door for the past twenty-five minutes.”

“I couldn’t have been more obvious, could I?” she laughs nervously, though already she seems to be visibly relaxing. Her posture has loosened and there’s less tightness to her flawless skin.

“No,” you say, grinning now. “It’s okay. I’m more worried about the ones who look like they might puke from the nerves.”

“I wouldn’t screw you over like that,” she insists with an adorable laugh, fingers curling around the short neck of the beer glass. “The shot really did help though. How many nervous wrecks do you do that for?”

You meet her gaze, and honestly reply, “Only you, actually.” She seems equal parts surprised, amused, and flattered by this answer.

“What’s so special about me to be the first?” she inquires. You concentrate for a minute on pouring a few shots for a nearby party of four, who are already drunk as shit and pressuring each other to do “one more, just one more”.

“I’m still figuring that out. I’ll get back to you, hm?”

She blinks, smiling, and as you deliver the shots to the overactive group of friends, she checks her phone. It’s been half an hour now, and disappointment creeps onto her face. You get the feeling she hasn’t heard back from her date.

“Think I could consider myself stood up by now?” she asks in a slightly dulled voice, despite her attempts at being lighthearted. She grabs her glass, gulping down some beer. Sympathetically, you grimace as you dry a glass with your rag.

“No text or anything, huh?”

“None. I guess she wasn’t that interested after all.”

BOOM, there it is. Somehow, the confirmation of her non-heterosexuality makes you slightly giddy, and you wipe off the glass in your hands with a little too much enthusiasm.

She drops her gaze to her drink, chewing on her lower lip with sharp, white teeth.

“Well, she’s missing out,” you can’t help but say, and immediately her attention is drawn back upward. “I don’t really know you, but you seem like a catch. You’re hot, anyway.”

She laughs at that, revealing the prettiest smile you’ve likely ever seen. She adjusts her glasses, shaking her head and still smiling as she responds to that. “Is that why you poured me a free shot?”

“Might’ve been part of it. I wouldn’t have told you that before you realized you’d been stood up though. It’s okay now, I think.”

“Yeah, it is,” she agrees, resting her elbow on the bar and her chin on her hand. She gives you this mesmerizing look, and for a second you forget what drink you’re supposed to be making until you glance at the bottle in your hand and realize you need tequila, not vodka. You refocus, grabbing the correct liquor as she gazes at you with soft, hazel hues.

“I think I’ll take another shot, if that’s okay with you,” she requests. “Whisky again. Bad to mix, right?”

“Sure,” you agree, refraining from explaining that that’s sort of a myth and that you’ll get fucked no matter what you’re drinking if you drink too much. That doesn’t really make for fun and flirty bar conversation. But just as you reach for a clean shot glass, she throws you for a loop (as if her presence tonight doesn’t already have your head spinning like you’ve been throwing back shots yourself).

“Take one with me?” She’s smiling again, though her lower lip is caught between her teeth. Oh, she’s definitely flirting with you now. You glance at your shift partner tonight, Jenna, who is delivering the drink you just made to a table of two near the window.

“We’re not really supposed to,” you lean in, lowering your voice almost conspiratorially, “but… I’ve already bent the rules once. What’s twice?”

You love the smile that gets out of her, the deep humming sound she makes in her throat before erupting into a full-on giggle. It makes your skin prickle with a pleasant flush, your shoulders slump back with a newfound ease whilst you pour the two shots to the rim. You then push one towards her, keeping the other for yourself. Just as you’re lifting up your own glass, you give a sudden pause.

“There’s just one thing I need from you first,” you begin, staring her down without a hint of trepidation in your face.

“What’s that?” She peers up at you with her eyes crinkled up at the corners from squinting warily at you, her brow creased in the middle.

You smile easily. “Your name.”

Her soft pink lips pull into a gentle smile, eyes sparkling behind her lenses.

“Cosima.”

You bite your own lip now, nodding a little before clinking your shot against hers.

“Bottoms up, Cosima.”

You make the move to down your shot first, and Cosima hastily follows suit. You both scrunch your noses up at the feeling of the whisky going down, something akin to lava flowing down your throat, all the way to your stomach.

After recovering, Cosima says, “Don’t you have to tell me your name now or whatever? I mean, isn’t that how this whole thing works?”

You quickly hide the evidence of your minor transgression before Jenna can see, and turn away from Cosima only for a moment as the named coworker comes over with another order. Once she’s gone, you bestow most of your attention back on Cosima, the smaller percentage of it dedicated to mixing a Long Island.

“‘This whole thing’?” you mimic, eyeing her with slightly lifted brow. “And what exactly would that be?”

Cosima breaks out into a bashful grin, tilting her head at you. “You know… you, saving me from what would have otherwise been a pretty terrible night. I probably would have just walked on out of here when she didn’t show up—would’ve gone home, put on some Firefly and tried to forget the stinging pain of rejection with the help of some weed brownies.”

You slide a straw in the finished drink. “Firefly? Uh oh, nerd alert,” you tease lightly.

“Respectfully—I prefer the term geek.” She gives you a pointed but entirely unserious look before gulping down the rest of her unattended beer.

That earns an involuntary smile from you. You shake your head, scooping up some ice with a new glass.

“Well, I’m glad my whisky shot intervention spared you from wallowing at home with drug-laced treats and a space western,” you tell her sincerely. “Although… I have to say, weed brownies doesn’t sound like the worst thing in the world right now.”

“I make the best,” Cosima brags, her second shot clearly starting to settle into her bones. “If you tried ‘em, you’d say they’re the best goddamn weed brownies you’ve ever had in your entire life.”

You chuckle. “Weed brownies are all the same—and they’re just a means to an end anyway.”

Cosima seems offended—not personally—but on behalf of weed brownies everywhere. Her eyes have gone wide and her jaw is dropped almost comically. But she’s quick to pull herself together, and now simply shakes her head at you with pity. You tear away for a moment to deliver a cocktail to someone near you two, then turn back to Cosima.

“You’ve obviously never experienced a really good-ass batch of weed brownies, and for that, I’m sorry.” She then shrugs. “All I’m saying is, the experience of eating the brownies should be just as enjoyable as the effects of them. And, honestly, the same old dollar-store brownie mix everyone else uses just doesn’t cut it.”

“So, if you don’t use the ‘same old dollar-store brownie mix,’how do you whip up a batch?”

You’re not really all that interested in learning the optimum way to make weed brownies, but you’d hate for this conversation to come to an end. If Cosima closes her tab and walks out that door, you know the rest of your shift will be dedicated to thinking about her, and wishing you hadn’t been on duty so you could spend the rest of the night just talking to her.

However, you notice a new kind of smile brimming on Cosima’s lips as you focus in on her again. It’s incredibly soft, a barely there quirk upward at the edges, and paired with her intense gaze… it’s incredibly seductive.

“I could show you,” she finally says, still watching you, waiting. “I was just thinking about heading out… why don’t you come with me?”

Bold. That’s bold, and she seems to know it but is holding her ground pretty resiliently. What a difference from the jumpy woman you first noticed sitting at your bar now nearly an hour ago. It surprises you, but not really—you feel like you already knew what she was capable of, once you two started your exchange. You’ve just been waiting for it to slowly but surely creep out. And now it’s out, full-blown in the open, and you have a choice to make.

You stare for an extra-long several seconds, and just then Jenna approaches.

“Hey, Jenna, I’m actually starting to feel like I’m coming down with something,” you say with your eyes still laser-sharp focused on Cosima. “Could you take over the rest of my shift for me?”

She doesn’t even get to formulate a response before you toss your waist-apron off and start to exit from behind the bar. Cosima’s slapping down cash on the counter, and you throw a “Thanks!” Jenna’s way as you hurry to the back to grab your coat and things.

In probably five minutes’ time, you’re outside the bar, thinking you just might have gotten yourself sacked but it’s totally, completelyworth it because Cosima is standing outside in a scarlet-red coat patiently waiting for you.

“Are you allowed to do that?” She’s concerned, but clearly happy you left with her, forher.

“No.” You inhale deeply, letting the chilly Canada air fill up your lungs for a minute. “But I think you know by now that you’re worth breaking rules for.”

A hazy pink blush colors her olive cheeks, and you smile at her.

“By the way…” You step closer. “It’s [Name].”

She softens and extends an open hand. “Come on.”

Approximately one hour later, you and Cosima are sat in her apartment with a half-empty plate of brownies on the coffee table next to her small sofa. Firefly is running on the also small television in the background, but you’re both busy giggling together over some biology joke Cosima has made (despite the fact you know little to nothing about biology).

“You were so right,” you sigh, utterly relaxed in this moment. “Whipping them up from scratch makes them ten times better. And using coconut oil? Genius.”    

“Not to say I was right but… I was right.” Cosima grins lazily at you, drawing her bent leg up to her chest. You two stare at each other in silence for a few seconds (or it could have been minutes, for all you two knew) before she speaks up again.

“I’m glad you came with me,” she tells you sincerely. Her pupils are super dilated, and not that far away… in fact, her face is only centimeters apart from yours. She’s close enough you can see the bursts of brown in her deep green irises—you could almost dip your finger in the same way Cosima swirled hers in brownie batter earlier. Watching her finger slipped past her lips to lick it off, you’d almost asked her to put it in your mouth instead.

“Me too,” you admit. “Even if I might not have a job anymore come tomorrow…"

Cosima’s eyes go wide. “Shit, dude, I—I don’t wanna be the reason you lose your job!”

For some reason, her panic over the matter makes you guffaw, and Cosima herself gives an unseemly snort after a second.

“It’s okay,” you say while calming yourself, your hand falling on her thigh. Her eyes flicker down, and when she looks back up, she realizes your eyes are trained on her lips. “I think I know how you can make it worth it.”

She knows too. Cosima jolts forward, planting a hand on the side of your face and latching her mouth onto yours. The first thing you notice is the taste of chocolate on her tongue, paired with the remnants of two whisky shots. Then it’s the sound of her inhaling sharply through her nose, filling her lungs back up with all the air you seem to have stolen.

Your senses are overwhelmed by her, and maybe part of it has to do with the weed, but it’s not a bad thing either. You press your fingers hard into her thigh and lean forward. Cosima welcomes the advance, letting herself fall back into several patterned pillows while guiding you to follow. You brace yourself on the sofa with your leg between hers, and in the shifting, your thigh happens to brush against her core.

Cosima breathes hot against your mouth, bucking her hips up in an instant reaction. Before you can think of what to do next, Cosima says quickly, “Wait.”

You pull back from her and she works desperately to tug off the cute boho top she’s wearing down to a silver blue bralette, and you’re so transfixed by the sight of exposed skin that you momentarily freeze up.

A sudden laugh pulls you from your reverie and you look up into her face and see that Cosima is incredibly amused.

“You good there?” she teases, and you laugh at yourself, shaking your head.

“Oh, definitely,” you grin, already tugging your black tee up and over your head. You two share a few more giggles as you finish undressing each other down to underwear.

“I think that’s way better, don’t you?” Cosima murmurs with a sexy little smirk on her lips as you lean over her again, your hand raking down her chest to her stomach. You show your agreement by kissing her again, your arm positioned between your bodies as your hand runs along the inside of her thigh.

Cosima hums a soft sound of contentment at this, her hands gliding across your back to find your bra strap. She deftly undoes the snaps and tugs the garment off, dropping it somewhere near. You shiver but keep a steady course with your fingers, allowing them to trail up to the edge of her underwear. Cosima tears her lips from yours, and you tilt your head at her in wonder but realize her intent the moment her eyes fall downward.

She leans up and forward to kiss your sternum repeatedly, though her mouth doesn’t stay in one place. You glide your fingers over the outside of her underwear, able to distinguish the delicate outline of her folds even with the material covering her. Cosima hums again, though this time it seems to transition into more of a moan, and your muscles reflexively tighten in want.

“You like that?” you ask with a little smile, and she makes a sound of agreement with her lips against your skin. Her mouth brushes over your nipple and it instantly hardens for her. You squeeze her shoulder with the hand that’s steadying you, eyes rolling back for a moment as you bask in the sensation.

“You like that?” she mimics, glancing up at you with mischief in her eyes.

“Fuck, yes.”

A soft laugh before she dives back in, and you remember to move your hand again. Now you slide it under the band of her underwear, fingers gliding through coarse hair to explore new territory. Not that vaginas are new to you, but hersis, and you wanna be familiar with every inch of her so you can make her night ten times better than her date would’ve.

Cosima lifts her hips into your hand, clearly anxious for a little more action. You tug haphazardly at the material to get it out of the way, and in doing so, you accidentally tear it.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” you say instantly in alarm, and Cosima shakes her head, grasping your face in her hands and pulling you in for a sensual kiss.

“I don’t even give a shit, don’t stop.”

Glad to know she won’t mind having to buy another pair of underwear, you go back to it, making sure she’s exposed enough for you to do what you want. Cosima returns to kissing and sucking on your breasts, her hands groping your ass while she does so. She’s just as wet as you think you probably are by now, and you test her slickness first with your middle finger.

You press the pad of your finger in just enough to swipe the wetness up and through her folds, swirling it all around her clitoris. Cosima digs her fingers into your ass and grazes her teeth against your sensitive bud, challenging you back. You keep your focus, sliding first your middle finger in to test the waters. She’s so wet it slides in with ease, and after letting her get used to that you slide in your ring finger, too.

Cosima shudders at the fuller sensation. Your thumb finds her sensitive nub to rub over it slowly, and you push your fingers in deeper. Cosima squirms a little, though clearly not in discomfort because she moans loudly at the same time. It’s almost overwhelming, and you have to remind yourself to keep focused before you melt into a puddle right on top of her.

“Fuck me,” she says in a groan, and she’s not just overwhelmed too—she’s giving you directions. Gladly, you quicken your pace, trying to ensure you maintain stimulation on her clit while pretty much pounding into her. Her head is tilted all the way back in ecstasy now, cat-lined eyes fluttering shut like she just can’t help it. You bend up and in to kiss her hotly before sloppily foraging the skin of her jaw and neck with greedy lips.

Your hand is cramping just a little, but you grit your teeth and keep at it, needing desperately to send Cosima toppling over the edge. She lets slip more pleased moans, squeezing her brows together as she gets closer.

“Cum for me,” you murmur while kissing her skin some more, skimming your nose over the curve of her jaw. “Cum for me, Cosima… you’re almost there.”

Her lower lip slides between her pearly white teeth, fingers digging into your back while her hips raise up a bit. She’s practically buzzing as it is, and then her whole body just tenses up and her back arches away from the sofa. A jumble of curses falls from her lips as her walls clench around you, and you slow down but don’t quite stop as it racks her body with relentlessness. She goes limp and sinks back into the couch, opening her eyes to find your face.

You’ve finally stopped because you can tell she’s sensitive to the touch, jolting just a little as you remove your fingers. You must look satisfied or smug or both because she breaks out into a grin, apples of her cheeks flushed, and giggles.

“Holy fuck,” she begins with, biting her lip again as she shifts slightly under you. “I don’t know if it was the orgasm or the weed, but I kinda feel like I floated outside of my body there for a second.”

“It was probably both,” you offer teasingly, leaning in to kiss her while she laughs again against your mouth.

“Hm,” she pretends to mull it over. “From a scientific standpoint, we can’t really say for certain without another test.” Lust glimmers in her eyes still as she looks up at you, a smirk on her lips.

“Well, if it’s for science, I’m happy to take part in a second trial,” you bat your lashes at her, a cheeky grin on your face.  

In a flash, Julian’s body is pressed against yours as he holds you in the corner, wary of whatever sound came from near the library window. He’s terrified of you two getting caught– his arms quiver as he pins you into the corner, face turned and gaze latched onto the window as he waits for the moment to pass, for things to be safe again. You’re hotly aware of every place your bodies are touching, and it seems he is too– Julian turns his head to look at you again, his eyes wandering down and his lip catching between his teeth. He groans in his throat at the feeling of closeness, and it does something to you that can’t be put into words.

“Just a bird. Sorry...” He clears his throat, face flush crimson. Then a sudden somberness passes over his features in a flicker of an instant, and he continues. “About everything. I’m sorry.” His face lowers, he can’t even look at you as he admits it. “I don’t know what I was thinking, rejecting you like I did. Temporary madness. It perhaps goes without saying that I find you very, very attractive...”

The admission suddenly reminds you of how your chests are pressed together, how your knee brushes against his leg as you shift a little. You can’t help being turned on, and something in you wants Julian to plead a little more. You can’t make it that easy for him, can you?

“Are you really sorry?” You say, quietly at first, though your eyes are trained fiercely on him. Julian’s head snaps up and he stares into your eyes with his own wide, unsure.

“I– What?” he stammers. “Of c-course I am. I said I was, didn’t I? I mean it. It was stupid, so stupid of me...”

“I don’t believe you,” you shake your head, bringing your face closer to his so that he can see the suggestion in your eyes as you speak. “Not yet, anyway. You’ll have to show me how sorry you are, Julian... Ilya.”

He shudders and gives a half-moan, immediately dropping to his knees without a fight. You can’t believe it was that easy– he’s practically shaking with desperation, cheeks still flushed as he looks up at you. Power and lust rush through your body, like an adrenaline boost, and you know you can’t stop here. You need more.

“I’m so sorry, darling,” he says as he bows his head toward your feet, as if in shame again over his previous actions. “So sorry I pushed you away. It was the most foolish decision I’ve ever made, and I’ve made many...”

"You can say ‘sorry’ as many times as you want,” you interrupt him, looking down at him with a lusty gleam in your eyes, fingers reaching to latch under his chin. “But it’s still not enough.”

“Then what?” he asks breathily. “Anything, anything at all, please, just tell me– what you want, ahh... I’ll do it, whatever you want me to...”

You let go of his chin and stand tall again, fully aware of what you want but knowing you’ll only give him crumbs at a time to draw out his desperation.

“Whatever I want?” you confirm, and Julian’s nods with such quickness you wonder how his head stays on.

“Yes!” he insists pleadingly, pitiful. “Please... l-let me show you, darling... how sorry I am, how much I need you...”

You pretend to mull it over for a moment before deciding on your next instructions. With the tiniest smirk on your lips, you lean over just a little. “Take off your clothes.”

Julian freezes momentarily before his fingers are flying, working at the buttons of his coat so he can tear the outer layer off and toss it aside carelessly. In a scramble, he manages to remove every last piece of clothing that’s in the way, and he resumes his posture, wincing when he gets back on his knees again, and yet he isn’t deterred by a little pain. You suck on your lower lip, aware of how he gazes at you like you’re something ethereal, a goddess– it heightens the sensations of desire that already pulse within you, and you would love nothing more than to let him worship you. But not just yet.

“What now?” he dares to ask, not hiding his need. He can’t contain himself, and you love that you can elicit such a reaction from him.

“Stand up,” you reply, and he shoots up, towering over you, waiting for further instruction. He tries to come close, though you stop him, hands pressed firmly against his chest, a sharp eye turned on him that reminds him of his place. He falters a little under your gaze, blushing.

“Remember, I tell you what to do... when to move, if you can touch...” He lets out a hot breath.

“So sorry, I– I forgot my place. It won’t happen again.” He swallows and you smile, just a little.

“Good,” you whisper, now allowing your hands to fall away from your chest to close the distance and latch your mouth onto his. Julian full-on moans into your mouth, overcome with need as your hands then fall to his hips and you leave not even an inch of space between your bodies. You grasp, pull, rolling your body against his while your tongue swipes along the seam of his lips. He parts them for you eagerly, a little whisper of a breath escaping him, before your tongue roams and laps without restraint. He can’t help what he does next– his hands fall roughly at your hips, sliding towards your rear, trembling and anxious to touch, to squeeze.

You immediately and swiftly give Julian a smack to his rear– it resounds loudly in the large library, sharp and painful, and you tear your lips from his at exactly the same time. Julian has let out a soft yelp, shame falling over his features, eyes lowered as you gaze at him with a sternly raised brow.

“What did I tell you about touching?” you inquire. “Did you forget already?”

“No!– No, I’m so sorry, ahh... I was simply overcome with my desire, I didn’t mean to disobey–” He falters as you wait for him to stop rambling.

“Don’t make me do that again,” you warn, though you’d absolutely love to do it again. And Julian seems to share the sentiment.

“What if– what if I want you to?” He licks his lips before grinning a little masochistically, watching you to see how you’ll react.

Your lips curve into the tiniest smirk, hard as you try to fight it. “Don’t get cheeky.”

You slide your hand up into his curls and roughly tug his head down then, hungrily pressing your mouth against his again. Your other hand roams over his skin, fingers gliding over taut muscles and through soft, light hair. Julian moans and groans without restraint with every touch as it works him up, and admittedly, it works you up too. You can feel a damp need at the apex of your thighs, and the feeling of Julian’s hard member pressing against your stomach every time you draw closer doesn’t help that in the slightest.

“Take off my clothes, now,” you tell him in between quick, pecked kisses before pulling away entirely. “But don’t touch me or linger too long. Just get them off, understand?”

Julian nods again, as eager as ever, and works at your tunic first, his gaze soaking up everything he can see, though you can tell it pains him that he can’t touch. He sinks to his knees again to tug your boots off and then slide your trousers down slowly. You watch his every move, making sure he obeys your instructions, though you shudder unconsciously at his feather-light touch. When he sees what the trousers no longer cover, he swallows hard, lips parting, tongue sliding out to run along his lower lip as if he’s starving.

“Now sit back,” you murmur, back making contact with the wall as a means to support yourself. “And watch. But no touching... me, or yourself.” He sits back on his legs obediently, eyes again going wide as saucers as he sees what you intend to do... Your hand glides across your stomach, down over your pubic bone before two fingers slide easily between your folds. You shut your eyes and feel a soft shudder roll over your limbs as you feel the wetness that’s been accumulating down below. Your fingers slide through the folds back and forth a few times before you dip your index finger into your opening, drawing out more lubrication.

Julian whimpers from his spot below, and your eyes open halfway to look at him, and you see his hands flex and ball up into fists as he fights against the urge to touch either you or himself. His chest is heaving with the sheer willpower it’s taking him to hold back, and seeing him struggle turns you on further. You draw wide circles over your throbbing bundle of nerves, slow and patient before speeding up with smaller, tighter circles. Your body jolts every now and again as you approach the sweet, self-induced climax, and one hand is working your own nipples while the back of your head digs into the wall behind you.

You moan sweetly, high-pitched sounds leaving you shamelessly as you pleasure yourself, and you look over to see Julian’s hand inching up his thigh.

“Julian–” It takes some effort to force it out with some strength. “Don’t.”

He protests with a whine, though his hand plants itself firm on his knee, knowing better than to fight. Still, he can’t keep himself from verbally expressing his frustration...

“Please, [Name],” he begs, rocking forward with hungriness written all over his features. “Let me– let me help you. I can help you get there... I want to taste every inch of you... you probably taste so sweet, so delicious– I need to taste you, badly, darling.”

You shake your head, your hand working furiously at yourself, panting. “N-No. I said no, Julian, now l-listen to me, I– ah–” You whimper, eyes shutting so tightly you’re seeing stars, and you feel it flood over your entire body as if someone’s dumped a bucket of cold water over you. Your hips jerk as you cry out, your butt knocking back into the wall as the orgasm shakes you and overcomes every one of your senses. It’s a blissful feeling, and you have to lean fully against the wall for a few seconds to regain your strength.

When you open your eyes again, Julian’s eyes are darkened with lust and he’s bitten his lip so hard he’s drawn blood. A droplet slides from his lower lip down his chin–– you wobble a bit before managing to stride over to him and offer your hands for him to rise. He accepts gratefully, and you bring his head down, running your tongue up from his chin to his lip. He shudders with want, a pitiful groan vibrating in his throat. The sweet metallic taste is strange but delicious, and you finish off with a hot, wet kiss. He’s been so well-behaved, you feel you ought to give him something in return for his patience.

"Come,” you beckon, walking over to his old desk in the library. You swipe aside the papers, the books littering its surface– you can worry about them later. Right now, you lift yourself up high onto the desk to sit, legs spread and a curling finger inviting him to approach. Julian is mesmerized and very curious to know what you have in store for him–– you’re certain he won’t be disappointed.

“Tell me what to do,” he says as he nears, lust-filled eyes focused on you like there’s nothing else in the world more important than this. He trembles with excitement over what’s to come.

“Turn around,” you respond, a suggestive gleam in your eye. He nods slowly, revolving so that his back faces you. You latch your hands onto his waist and guide him further back... he jolts as your inner thighs brush against his hips, and sighs as your breasts press into his back as you lean forward. More wetness pools between your legs at his close proximity to your core. You force yourself to focus on the task, and one of your hands slides around to the front of his chest, fingers grazing his hardened nipple––

“Ohhh, yes,” he groans, panting already as you slide your fingers playfully over the bud. You smile into his shoulder blade as your lips find purchase on the skin, leaving soft kisses while your other hand slides over his hip and grasps his very hard member in front. Julian hisses, a few choice curses leaving him as your hand runs along the length coyly, with far more patience than he wants.

“You’ve been so very good, Ilya,” you mumble against his skin, planting another kiss, then another. Your thumb rolls over the tip, which is wet with pre-cum already. “I think I ought to give you a little reward for that...”

“W-Would you really?” He gives another gorgeous moan as your hand squeezes and slides along his length in answer. “Thank you, darling, I– I only hope I can repay you for this. I want to repay you... to worship you... do say you’ll let me.”

“If you keep doing what I tell you... you can do just that,” you promise, the words hardly empty. You’re simply building up to the moment, and you know the wait will be worth it when Julian absolutely ravishes you.

In the meantime, your hand works steadily to provide Julian the relief he’s so desperately needed, and you know it won’t take much longer for him to cum after the intense buildup. One of his hands has latched onto your thigh to steady himself, his head tilted back and eyes shut tight as he revels in the pleasure you give him. He’s not quiet either– he moans your name–– how much he adores you, how good you are to him and how undeserving of you he is... it makes your core pulsate with need all over again. Your fingers continue to pinch at his nipple, and you playfully bite the soft skin of his shoulder and back, licking the tender areas immediately after removing your teeth. You know the bruises and marks will disappear with quickness, thanks to his healing ability.

Just as you predicted, Julian’s breath hitches and he whines, fingers digging into your thigh as that climax approaches. You decide to tease him a little.

“Don’t cum yet,” you warn him, slowing down your ministrations, which of course causes him to protest.

“Oh, sweetheart, don’t do that– I need to cum so badly, please don’t...” He’s begging you, emotional and despairing with that sweet orgasm so near that you’re denying him. “[Name], I’m begging you!”

“Hold back, or else I won’t let you finally have your way with me,” you insist firmly, hand halting its movements over his throbbing length. “I’ll tell you when you can cum.”

“I can’t hold it,” he shakes his head, and your thigh aches from how hard he’s squeezing it. “I– I can’t!”

“Yes, you can, and you will.” Julian groans heartily, though he does as you tell him and restrains himself. Once you feel he’s had to hold off long enough, you’re ready to let him have what he needs.

“Okay... now cum for me,” you whisper, resuming your handiwork with determination. “Cum, Ilya–”

A shout accompanies the hard jerk of his hips as he cums with more force than you anticipated, and you’re fully aware of the warm liquid that accompanies his orgasm as it drips down onto your hand, making a mess. You don’t care. He’s leaning back into you, one hand braced on the desk’s edge as he comes down, twitching and breathing hard. Just as you let go of him, Julian turns around to face you– he’s flushed, sweaty, and absolutely beautiful. He watches in complete mesmerization as you bring your hand to your mouth, tasting his fluid. It arouses you more than you expected it to... you really can’t stave it off any longer.

You reach up to place a hand on the back of his neck, nodding your head now. “Worship me,” you instruct headily. “Ravish me. Do what you’ve been wanting to do to me this entire time.”

“I thought you’d never ask, my dear,” he says a little breathlessly, that typical, fearless grin finding its way onto his face. He falls to his knees again, eyes roaming your legs, your inner thighs, everything he finally has access to. He doesn’t want to miss an inch of you. He slides his large, calloused hands up from your ankles, over your knees and up until they come to a halt on your thighs. You lean up on your elbows on the desk to watch him work, happy to hand over a little power in this moment.

His eyes gauge your expression as he brings his mouth to your inner thigh, slowly pressing a wet kiss to the skin. Your brows furrow gently, and your tongue slips out to wet your suddenly dry lips. He smirks against your thigh, his gaze falling from your face to the expanse of sensitive skin before him. “You’re entirely alluring... so breathtakingly beautiful,” he murmurs as he kisses higher up your thigh, nipping softly with his teeth. His thumbs rub your skin tenderly, hands occasionally squeezing your thighs. “Clearly I, uh, don’t have to tell you what power you hold over me, darling... you already know.” That makes you smile a little, though that smile is wiped off your face the moment his mouth hovers directly over your core.

“Can I taste you now?” he asks, and for once, you wish he wouldn’t await instruction, you’re so desperate for his mouth to be on you. “You’re simply mouth-watering...”

A barely audible moan escapes you. “Yes,” you give him permission. “Please, Ilya.”

He sucks in a sharp breath at the usage of his birth name, though you’ve used it again and again, it never ceases to elicit quite the reaction from him. He finally latches his mouth onto your aching heat, devouring you like he hasn’t eaten in days. You can’t help but fall back onto the desk entirely, back arching as he works at you. For someone who prefers science over enchantments, his tongue can certainly work some magic.

His warm saliva mixes with your own fluids as they continue to leak out of you, and you gasp and whine as he mercilessly sucks at your throbbing clit. This was well worth the long wait– he delivers on his every offer, pouring all of his energy into eating you out and bringing you to that glorious climax. His hands hold your hips down onto the desk as you squirm, one of them moving over your abdomen to press down gently. You try to grip onto something, but the desk’s smooth surface is useless, so instead your hand falls into the mess of curls between your legs. Julian moans happily against your core as you tug on his hair.

You can hardly breathe, let alone formulate words, but if you could, you’d tell him how close you are to the edge. You’re certain he knows with how your body begins to tremble, how you cry out louder and louder with every passing second. He uses your reactions to guide him, and all it takes is him gliding his tongue through your folds, then back up to swirl around your clit for it to burst and for you to let out a scream of ecstasy.

Julian keeps going, though slowing down as you ride the wave out, until you’re so sore and sensitive that you squirm away from him a little. He backs off, instead moving up to kiss his way up your stomach to your breasts, admiring the way your body shudders and then finds calm after the climax. You drag his face up to kiss him heartily, though having to break away soon to catch your breath.

“So, you forgive me?” he murmurs seriously, wanting to be sure that you truly are past what happened before. You smile amusedly, still trying to regain your steady breathing– it’s endearing, how concerned he is with truly garnering your forgiveness. You’ve long forgiven him, but he needs to hear it, to be reassured.

“Of course, Julian–” You find the strength to heave yourself up, placing your hands onto his shoulders to steady yourself. Your faces are close, your eyes soft now compared to how stern you were only moments earlier. “I know why you pushed me away before, but I’m not going anywhere, not even if you really wanted me to. We’re going to figure this out, together.”

His expression goes quite tender and he impulsively leans in to give you a kiss, and you press a hand to the back of his neck. When he pulls away, you glance over at the pile of clothes, as well as the mess of papers and books you two have left on the floor.

“I think we ought to get dressed and get back to our searching,” you murmur, as much as you would like to let Julian ravish you some more, you’re working on limited time. “And when we get our answers and your name is cleared... we can pick back up from here.” You grin mischievously, the tips of your fingers tickling the back of his neck.

“Ohoho,” his lips spread into the cheekiest grin. “I like the sound of that. I’d better hurry up and gather more clues then, hadn’t I?”