#commissionz

Knowing that you wouldn’t have been in this position if you had acted differently a few months ago makes scrolling through her Instagram feed hurt even more.

You shouldn’t be so obsessed. The obsession started the next day when you posted the photos Giselle took of you on the fire escape. She came out with the smokers after everyone sang Anton happy birthday and took a picture of you on her digital camera. The tears were gone by then, only leaving you embarrassed and trying to hide from Giselle before she asked what was wrong. You cried some more, the smokers offered you a Lucky Strike to help you feel better.

Giselle took the cigarette on your behalf and clicked through her recent pictures on her camera. She said you were giving indie sleaze and Spring Breakers, all of that. You wouldn’t have preferred to post pictures of yourself after a cry. But your eyes didn’t look too bloodshot and you wanted to post proof that you were there, waiting for Anton on the fire escape even after he went inside. So you posted it and Anton liked it. But he didn’t comment and he didn’t ask if you privately if you had taken that photo on his fire escape. You were still clinging to the railing from when he had a hand around your waist but he didn’t comment. 

He commented on his own post, though. The girl who told him it was time to cut the cake and who planned the after party commented and Anton responded almost immediately. 

A simple reply from Anton started the obsession. You spent every night alternating between her Instagram feed, Anton’s Instagram feed, and your message history with Anton. You were stuck in a loop, late into every single night thinking about what you should’ve done. 

You were stuck on your chat history with Anton a little longer than usual. After his birthday there was there was radio silence from you both. You scrolled up through the history of you telling Anton that you were outside, him asking when and where to meet you. 

You didn’t know you had it so good then, that it was so easy. Anton was always there for you, early in the morning and late into the night. After classes and before, during parties, and after exams. You didn’t think that the conversation on the fire escape would’ve been the last. 

You kept scrolling. The implication of seeing the other around wasn’t a farewell. It didn’t feel like a farewell then, you don’t know if you could handle it being one now. 

Your thumb pressed on the chat absentmindedly. You were pulled all the way down to the recent message, a month ago when you told Anton in the middle of his party that you were coming. The bright light of your screen was burning your eyes as you typed something out before deleting it. You did that a million times, turning to your side trying to figure out what to do. Your blanket rested gently over your body as you pressed your face into the pillow, typing each word carefully.

you: are you mad at me?

you: i’m sorry if i did something wrong

Regret instantly bubbles in your chest and you squeeze your eyes shut like you’re trying to will away the message. But you see the speech bubble at the bottom of your chat history.

anton: i’m not mad at you

anton: is everything okay?

Anton told you himself that he’s not mad. He’s told you before that he’s never been mad at you. He’s told you he’s been confused by you, and now it seemed like he was worried for you. He texted back immediately just like he used to. It wasn’t too late into the night. You could be at his place in ten minutes.

You think Anton might’ve texted again while you were getting ready. You were just thinking that he’s never been mad at you, just confused or upset. He wasn’t mad on the fire escape when you told him that you probably wouldn’t go to the afters, he wasn’t upset that you said nothing in response to him to suddenly ask if he was mad at you. He didn’t tell you he was mad so he wasn’t, just worried. You didn’t need to read his text because you were already convinced, fully dressed and ready to go to his side of campus.

You got dressed in the dark, spritzing a perfume you bought with Anton in mind while you wore a shirt of his. You zipped up a hoodie of his that he gave to you and put sweats over your sleeping shorts. You got dressed quick, filling in the gaps of Anton asking you to come over.

You had figured he had given up to some extent to get you to be his. You were devising a plan in the midsts of getting dressed to let him know that you wanted more from him. Once you made it inside of his room you’d tell him that you missed him. During sex he’d ask you—like he always has—if it was all for him and you think you’d actually nod your head this time. Instead of teasing him you’d be brutally honest, or you’d say yes so sincerely he’d hear all the regret in your voice. You know that you’re the most vulnerable with him in the middle of the act. Maybe you’d let a declaration slip out in the middle of it, telling him that you could never handle a month of silence from him ever again. Maybe you’d say you were sorry while he laid you down and you would beg for another chance. He was more receptive to your emotionally stunted ways in that state, too. You know he’d coo at you and accept your apology. You know he’d tease you but there’d be sincerity, some gratitude for you being upfront. He might tell you he’d take you on a date and hold your hand in public. You’d react and tell him yes, because you’re positive that’s what you want now. 

The possibilities of the night made you move in a haste. You cleared campus to his dorm in eight minutes, phone tucked in the pocket of your hoodie. You were going through the outcomes when you entered his building, asking the resident assistant proudly if you could be scanned in to go to Anton’s floor. You bounced in front of the doors of the elevator, watching the number climb until you got to Anton’s floor.

You got out of the elevator quickly, turning the corner and going to his room so fast your feet dragged across the carpet. You went over your plan in your mind: tell him that you missed him, have sex, start an actual relationship. You were so preoccupied telling yourself this plan you didn’t notice your phone vibrating in your pocket. Only when you were in front of Anton’s door were you still enough to hear the sound of a phone vibrating and feel the slight sensation.

You fished your phone out before you knocked on his door. His contact picture took up your entire screen, and your heart seized in your chest at your routine being fulfilled. He was probably calling to ask if you could bring a condom. You had a few in your bag, but if this night went how you wanted maybe you wouldn’t need them at all. A teary love confession right before you both finished together sounded like something straight from a movie. You declined the call but instead reached forward to knock on his door.

Your phone started vibrating again as you stood in front of the door. Almost immediately the call dropped, and your phone revealed a series of texts you didn’t know you were ignoring on your journey here.

anton: hey is everything alright?

anton: i’m not mad, just confused.

anton: even more confused now.

anton: call me

anton: are you outside my door?

You could hear him on the other side of his door. Shuffling, moving things around, turning the lock. Your eyes were trained on the door where you thought he was on the other side. The more shuffling you heard the more nervous you became, thinking about the tone of his texts. 

Regret seizes in your chest and you think that Anton would’ve told you to go home if you were on your way. The longer it takes for him to open the door the more your mind wanders. The urge to leave takes up everything. You grip your phone tight and take a step away from the door.

Before you could turn and head back towards the emergency staircase, the door opens.

You have been here a million times before with Anton. Usually you’d be clad in black with a hat on like you concealing your identity. Regardless, he’d always pull the door open then pull you through it, kissing the top of your head to welcome you in. 

This time he only opened it enough for half his body to fit through. He doesn’t come into the hallway to greet you. He stayed in his entryway, caught between the door and the frame. He doesn’t greet you. He just stands there in his sweats. His hair had just finished drying, the length fluffy and curling around the frame of his face. There’s not the shy smile or smirk on his face either. His features are pulled together in worry and confusion, looking at you like you’re not real. He can look you right in the face without having you take off a hat or sunglasses. 

“What are you doing here?” he asks. 

He leans closer, just enough for his head to peer into the hallway. He looks left and right and you do the same, looking at an empty hallway on both sides. You teeter from side to side, hearing your sneakers drag across the low pile carpet. The slight scraping is grating, more than the fact that Anton hasn’t invited you in yet. He has also never scoped out the scene before. You usually did that because you were afraid of being caught.

He’s not mad at you; he could never be mad at you. You tell yourself he asks the question out of worry. You always gave a warning that you’d be coming over. But you also remember the sentiment that you were always welcome. Anton told you that you could come by any time when you asked if you could crash at his one night. He said that he wished he could give you a key so you could drop in whenever you liked.

But you also remember that he said those things post sex. His lovey-dovey pillow walk could’ve been all for show, or it could’ve been recanted when you said nothing to him for a month. When you had sex in your dorm it was pretty devoid of feelings then. You don’t think you looked at Anton’s face too much when you offered that he could spend the night. You try to find the same look on his face now.

“Sorry,” you say.

Anton shakes his head.

“Don’t apologize,” he says. 

He shuffles on his feet. You can barely see into his room but you’re thinking about why you haven’t been invited in yet. You can barely see into his room, only the part over his shoulder that shows the ceiling and the light embedded in the middle. 

He doesn’t smile at you in the moment of silence. He just keeps looking, one hand holding the door open and the other behind him. You can’t even reach out to him.

“What are you doing here?” he asks again.

You thought you were always welcome. It feels like you knocked on the wrong door, a stranger opened up instead of your Anton. 

“I’m sorry, I just thought…” you say, words trail off at the end.

“Is everything alright?” he asked.

The question was sincere. He leaned a little closer when he asked it. He wasn’t sure if he was trying to keep his voice down or if he was trying to come closer to you so you’d take a step forward. 

“Are you okay?” he repeated.

His concern is palpable. You take a step forward and he doesn’t flinch away. You nod, trying to string together enough of an apology to find your way in.

The arm he extended and the step you took forward made more of the room visible. In the smallest space that was open, you saw a shadow dancing on the ceiling. Your eyes darted from the space above Anton to the small gap that opened between his body and the door. 

You saw her sitting on the couch and she was looking towards you. You recognized her face from endless scrolling on Instagram. You recognized the shock because it was the same look she gave you and Anton when she came on the terrace. You couldn’t mistake her because you had seen her a million times. She was pretty in person too, even when she was shocked.

You pulled back almost immediately. Anton’s eyes got wide and yours did too. He couldn’t block your view in time. He blocked the small gap between his arm and the door, but it was too late. Suddenly the tone of his texts made sense. His urgency to get you to respond. You’re sure he would’ve told you stay home and that he had someone else over. But you ended up here, not trying to hide yourself. The girl knows who you are, she has seen you before.

Your face heats up as the second of eye-contact plays in your mind again and again. Everything comes down at once and so quickly you feel lightheaded. There’s an intent to get out. Your feet are planted, frozen in the doorway. Like you’ve been caught you hold your breath. You grip your phone so tight and finally take a step back. Anton comes forward, leaving his doorway and closing his door behind him so quick you jump.

He’s against his door and he’s looking at you like he’s waiting for something. He’s wearing the sweater with the swim team on it and a pair of jeans. He probably walked from practice with her. You thought you saw textbooks on the coffee table. Maybe he went and picked her up from class. Or maybe that Instagram story you couldn’t click on was a date. She was sitting in the same space you always used to occupy with a bewildered look on her face. You were supposed to be on that couch, or at the very least inside. Now you were trapped outside, Anton and the door and the girl in the way. 

“I should go,” you said finally.

You think Anton said something. You didn’t hear because you had turned on your heel and made your way for the staircase that led you down to the courtyard. 

You were a flight down when you heard the door open on Anton’s floor. You heard him making his way down the steps too, hurried like yours were. You kept going, the steps blurring together as you felt the sting at your waterline. You were closer and closer to the courtyard, then you could make the speed walk towards your dorm. You think you could hold your tears by then. Anton would see you disappearing down the path and give up to go back to his girlfriend that he was waiting for him in his room.

You pushed the door open and a gust of air hit you. The fresh air provided no relief, instead just stinging your already sensitive eyes. You immediately cut through the courtyard, speed-walking across the bricked path to your dorm. You heard the staircase door closing again, and the sound of footsteps following after you. A moment later you heard heavy footsteps coming closer. You kept moving forward. Anton called after you, but you didn’t stop moving.

He caught up to you eventually. With a hand on your forearm he stopped you from walking any further. Tears break past your waterline, forcing you to look down at the ground instead of looking at him.

You can feel Anton looming over you. You stare at his feet, his slides quickly thrown on in a haste to catch you. His hand is still around your arm, holding it gently. You can feel each finger pressed into your skin, burning from his body heat and your embarrassment.

“Why’d you run?” Anton asked. 

You shake your head. You bring your other hand to your eyes to wipe away forming tears.

“Didn’t you want to talk?” he asks. 

“I didn’t know you had someone over,” you say, still looking at his feet.

Anton lets go of your arm and you immediately try stepping backwards. He covers the distance you try to make. The wind settles, you see Anton’s other hand go to push his hair back.

“I didn’t even know you were coming over,” he says. 

When you still say nothing, Anton brings a hesitant hand to your shoulder. You feel the weariness when he massages you gently.

“I’m not mad.” He continues to massage your shoulder. You nod pathetically, wiping away more tears. “I just wish you would tell me what you were thinking,” he says.

“I just wanted to see you,” you say.

You’re surprised that the sentiment came out so quickly. You were supposed to hold it in until you got him alone in his room. You weren’t supposed to be completely vulnerable until you could blame it on the heat of a moment.

When you finally look Anton in the eyes you immediately see his expression drop. The confusion melts. Almost immediately the entirety of him softens, his hand is sure as it rubs your shoulder gently.

“Why are you crying?” he asks. When you try to look away his other hand goes to your other shoulder, angling your body towards him. “What’s wrong?”

Anton’s reflex to worry about you makes you even more teary. You hadn’t spoken in so long but he still cares. You think about that night on the terrace and how Anton was giving you the opportunity to stay. But then you think about the same girl that was at the party telling him to blow out the candles was the same girl that was in his dorm. You were in her place at one point, and knowing that you’ve been replaced but he’s still considerate of your feelings makes your vision watery.

“I just thought for some reason that if I came here like this it’d fix the problem between us.”

There’s a silence between the two of you. You hear shoes tapping on the paved walkway and there’s a gentle breeze. It pushes Anton’s hair back slightly.

“What’s the problem?” he asks.

You know he knows. Anton always seems to know everything, he only tries to coax answers out of you for sake of conversation. There’s something holding you back still. You know he knows that too.

The breeze wisping through the courtyard provides little relief to your stinging eyes. 

“Your birthday party,” you start.

“What about it?” he asks.

You turn your head to look at the side of his building. You think his room is facing the courtyard. You wonder if that girl is up there in the window looking down at the two of you.

“I know I said I’d see you around, but it sucks leaving it to chance,” you say.

“You don’t have to leave it up to chance,” Anton clarifies.

“That’s why I came here.” 

Your words trail off at the end as you vaguely look up to the floor Anton lives on. You don’t know which window is his exactly. Still, you scan the face of the building looking for someone standing in the window. 

You only look back to him when you hear him move. When his eyes catch a circular metal table he walks towards it, pulling at your shoulder slightly. You drag your feet to follow him. He sits down first and motions to the spot next to him. 

There’s no distance when you sit down. You look at the spot where your knees touch his. Anton is looking down too, before he looks up and catches your eye.

He’s silent for a long time. The light breeze pushes his hair before he flicks his head back. 

“We don’t have to leave it to chance, but knowing would be nice.” You watch Anton bring his hands together, messing with each individual finger. You can tell he’s thinking carefully about what to say next. He’s acting like you’re liable to burst into tears without telling him why. The thought of how gentle he is makes a bigger lump materialize in your throat. “I think what we had before—“

“Was better?” you finished.

Anton shakes his head. His hands go to the top of the table. His thumbs tap slightly on the grated top on the table. The small metallic sound is barely audible over the sound of people talking around the courtyard.

“What we had before was more consistent,” he says carefully, head turning towards you. “I knew what you wanted when you texted me late asking if I was up. I don’t know what you want when you pop up on me at a reasonable hour wearing my clothes.”

You look down at his hoodie. You’ve been sweating nonstop since he opened his door. You want to take it off, but underneath this you’re wearing one of his shirts.

“I just really wanted to see you,” you say.

“My friend also really wanted to see me.”

Anton emphasizing friend has your heart dropping to your stomach. You don’t think during your previous involvement you’ve ever referred to him as your friend. You think maybe he makes the girls he hooks up with call him that. Or you two were never anything to begin with. What he could’ve meant only hurts, and you’re forced to take it in stride.

“I’m your friend too,” you say after a moment of silence.

Your tone makes it sound like a question. The way Anton raises his eyebrows makes you even more confused. 

“My friend?” he asks.

You nod. His knee is so warm it bleeds through your clothes. It feels like there’s direct skin contact, or bone clashing into bone.

“I’m glad we are friends,” you emphasize.

You nod again. Anton’s eyes are burning holes into the side of your face, but you focus on where your knees touch. The parts of his body that are in view flex, and with a quick peak upwards you see that he’s leaning against the table. His elbow is pressed into the grated metal and the side of his face is resting on the bottom of his palm. He taps his fingers on his face in a wave, looking at you with an expression you have trouble reading. The lamps in the  courtyard turned on automatically, lighting the parts of his face that the setting Sun missed. You think you see a smile before you focus somewhere else.

“Well,” he says, hands clapping together. “I’m glad we are friends, too.”

You hear the playful lift to his voice. Anton leans forward, until his elbow moves to rest on the edge of the table. He leans in, the same time he puts a hand on your knee that touches his.

“How was your day, friend?” he asks.

You can’t look down at your knee because you can feel the warmth of him through the fabric. The hand on your knee makes you believe you’re more than friends. The taunting tone in his voice makes you think he already knows what you’ve been doing all day. Cyberstalking him and the girl that was in his room. Ruminating on the past. Wallowing in self pity while trying to do coursework. Letting all your emotions boil over until they forced you come over to his dorm unprompted.

“I went to class,” you look towards a lamp post, squinting your eyes trying to think of what else you could say that wouldn’t be so pathetic. “did some homework.”

Anton hummed and nodded. Your hands were balled into fists, joints stiff as you motioned vaguely towards him.

“How was your day?” you asked.

Anton tilted his head towards the dark sky like he was thinking. His hand was pulsing a grip on your thigh.

“I also went to class. Then I went to practice and tore a hole in my swim cap by accident,” he answers.

You see the first break in Anton’s demeanor as he remembers his torn swim cap. He frowns slightly, fingers rubbing at his forehead.

“Gotta buy a new one, but I have to go to the other side of town to get the caps I like.”

“You’re in classes all day tomorrow too, right?” you ask.

Anton’s face changes again. He tilts his head and smiles at you, instead of a taunt you can tell he’s pleasantly surprised. You’ve had to pick up a thing or two about his schedule in the midst of your previous entanglement. He knew about yours, and he told you everything so it was only natural to remember it.

“Yeah, I’m in class all day.” Anton says, running his hand through his hair. “I gotta get the cap before my hair gets all messed up from the pool.”

You nod your head like you understand. You understand chlorine enough, the concept of chemicals and how they’d react to hair. You imagine being submerged in water in any capacity for hours on end would be Hell on hair. On Anton Instagram and the girls Instagram everyone is always wearing their headgear. Anton always ends up having a few strands of his hair peaking out from the bottom. 

Anton runs his hands through that part of his hair, staying at the ends and carding it through his fingers. You want to do the same, you get lost in the motion of Anton’s large hand grooming himself. His hand on your thigh just remained in a gentle squeeze. 

“You know,” he begins. You instantly perk up and stop looking at his hand. “I think friends also go to their friend’s swim practices.”

You nod. Anton smiles and nods back. It’s silent between the two of you. People pass by the both of you in the courtyard, coming home from night classes or a last minute cram at the library. You don’t withdraw from him at all. You let people walk by and look, you watch Anton watch them walk by. His gaze would flicker to you, like he was gauging for a reaction. To not pull away and to not react you had to freeze completely. But you felt Anton apply a little more force behind the hold on your thigh. 

Anton’s gaze flickers as one more person walks by. You hear a small sound of them saying hi and Anton is waving back and responding to them. You peer over your shoulder. You’ve seen that person before, you’re sure of it. Maybe it was at his party, or one of the functions at the abandoned warehouse. But you’re sure they know Anton because they make small talk, and he looks like he’s about to take a seat before he sees the hand on your thigh. Without missing a beat he bids Anton a farewell, and he continues making his way through the courtyard.

The two of you wait in the heavy silence. Someone saw you and Anton having a moment, where you were like a deer in the headlights and he was calm and collected. This must mean the hand on your thigh means more than just friends. 

But before you can read any more into it, Anton retracts his hand. He gets up from his seat fast, making you tilt your head up to look at him. This angle is awful. Too reminiscent. For a moment the reason you came by flashes through your mind. You were supposed to be spilling your guts in the middle of sex with Anton, not partially spilling your guts and groveling just to be in his life again. You didn’t think this is how the night would go. Now you’re his friend and he’s touching your chin playfully, making it tilt up even further to look at him.

“You gotta get home though, right?” he asks.

You swallow and nod your head to recenter yourself. You get up too, slowly but almost shaky on your legs.

Anton’s hands clap your shoulders. This is something he’s never done with you. He shakes you slightly, and you think he’s going to pull you in for a hug before he pulls away completely.

“Text me when you get home,” he says.

You want to ask him to walk you home. But you know that if you ask, he will say he has company over, and you will get that pang in your chest and the tense feeling in your jaw. 

“I will,” you said.

You turned the other direction and started walking back towards your building. You felt Anton still watching, and when you took a quick look over your shoulder he was there. Like a shadow he stayed by the table, lit up partially by a lamp post. You took a glance over him, where you think the light in his room was still on.

You texted Anton that you made it home and he responded. You went to sleep thinking about his indirect invitation slash order to come to his swim practice, and the girl that was waiting for him in his room. You woke up that morning thinking about how you were his friend now. You asked yourself what do friends do for eachother. Anton would be going to practice today with a torn swim cap, exposing his hair to the harsh chemicals of the pool. Friends wouldn’t let friends go through that.

All of your stalking came in handy. You found the brand of swim cap by zooming in on a picture Anton posted two weeks ago. The sports goods store wasn’t too far, and you had no classes to get in the way. You got his cap and you went back to campus.

You circled the entrance of the practice hall for twenty minutes. The nerves continued to prevail, each time you reached towards the door you thought about all of the possibilities. He had found enjoyment in labeling you as a friend last night. Maybe this was a trick to get you here, so he could laugh and joke with his friends about the desperate girl who wanted a second chance. You knew that girl would be here too, you’re sure you would be seen by his entire team. 

But you lost the right to choose. You were just his friend now, a friend who was on thin ice. If you wanted to get back to a semblance of anything you had before, this was the only way. If you turned around and left, you’d fill every room you entered with regret. Anton was waiting for you the same way he waiting for you to come to his game. You weren’t sure you’d be able to look at Anton ever again if you didn’t do this. So you took a deep breath, gripped the swim cap tight and pulled the door open.

Instantly when you passed the door you smelled the pool. The hallway had fluorescent lights embed into the ceiling and had warm lights in the display case. You saw trophies and banners and pictures of different athletic teams. You saw the accolades for the swimming team as you continued following the sound of water splashing.

The other parts of the gymnasium were relatively unoccupied. Some people were in the weight room, others were lying on cots getting massages or being inspected. You kept walking down the hallway, trying to seem like you belonged while gripping the swim cap like it was proof.

The pool was behind another set of double doors. You stay near the entrance, making the door close gently to avoid the sound echoing. The white walls are a stark difference to the vibrant green of spring outside. The tiled floor is different from the dirt, or the concrete that you nervously paced over for ten minutes. The weather in here is different too, the almost exact opposite of the clear spring outside. In here you’re drowning in the humidity, instantly feeling hot and damp in your clothes. Your heart is beating fast too, because you’ve never been here and you can already hear Anton’s voice echoing off the walls of the pool. You hear splashing and the sound of people jumping off the boards. Timers, clocks, instructors yelling about strokes. You squeeze the swim cap in your hand, feeling like you should turn around. You’re behind the coverage of the stands, you could turn around and no one would know. 

The air is so thick in here you could chew on it, and you can already feel sweat beading at your forehead. You walk forward, matching breaths with your steps trying to figure out why your heart is hammering in your chest.

Although you could hear Anton you had no idea where he was. His voice bounced off the water and the white walls, the sounds of people swimming threw you off. You thought that he would be on the other end of the pool, giving you a chance to see him before he saw you. Anton didn’t miss a beat instructing his team but he must’ve heard the door open, because the moment you passed the coverage of the bleachers and you saw him in your peripheral, he was already looking in your direction. 

You froze under his stare, staying still in the spot by the bleachers. You saw Anton freeze too, his hands that clapped for his teammates stayed fused together.

You wanted to turn on your heel and leave. The humid air was choking you and the warmth was making you sweat. You felt like every unpleasant smell from the day was attached to you, amplified by the muggy atmosphere. You felt sticky, your dirty hands were rubbing off on Anton’s brand new swim cap.

You saw Anton turn to his coach. Against it all you forced yourself to face him, even if you felt like your clothes were rubbing against your clammy skin. You felt soggy here, and it felt like Anton knew it. He walked towards you casually, looking like he belonged here. The blue reflecting off the pool complimented his tan skin, the water droplets on his shoulders from his hair looked perfect. 

In moments like this you remember that this could’ve been yours the whole time. Anton is careful navigating from the bleachers but doesn’t take his eyes off of you. You’re standing still and watching him, just waiting for him to come to you. 

You’re messing with the swim cap so much you think you’re wearing it down, already rubbing a portion of it thin from nerves. The repeated motion provides no relief, only making the palms of your hands sweaty. 

By the time Anton is in front of you, you’re sure you’ve rubbed a hole in the latex. Regardless, you present it to him, holding it out between the two of you so he couldn’t come any closer. 

“I got you a new swim cap,” you said.

You felt your voice get overtaken by the echo of water splashing. 

Anton looked down at the swim cap and you heard the coach blow the whistle. More splashing and water moving in the pool bounced off the walls. 

He took the cap from your hands, fingers brushing against yours. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” he said.

The genuine surprise in his voice cut through everything. The way he made eye contact made you look at his bare shoulder instead. Without even looking down you knew that his shorts were hanging low, only meant to cover the jammers he was swimming in. You could see his chiseled stomach, and you were thinking about the last time you had seen him like this. You also felt a flash of jealousy at the thought of everyone who has seen him like this since his birthday in March.

This could’ve been your life all this time. Bringing him things, crashing his practices, having him look at you with a grateful smile on his face. You like seeing him surprised, you like seeing him look at you and having other people see it too.

“It’s the brand I like too,” he says. 

You can’t stop yourself from smiling. You know that you did good, and that Anton likes it. He looks to the people swimming in the pool, then his coach behind him. The whistle blows again and you think that it’s time for you to leave.

“I just wanted to stop by—”

“Practice is almost over,” he says. “you don’t have any classes today, right?”

“You still remember my schedule?” you ask.

“Of course,” he says simply.

The coach blows the whistle and you hear the sounds of relief. The sound of water splashing decreases almost immediately, you hear wet footsteps splash in puddles surrounding the pool before Anton turns around. He’s holding the cap the same way you had it clutched before.

“Practice is almost over,” he repeats. He points past the double doors. “there are some chairs right past the doors. Wait for me?” 

You nod, and Anton immediately smiles. Before he turns around to join his team he comes close. You’re too slow to react, and he moves quick. He pecks your forehead when the creases from nerves finally smoothed out. You were in a state to react slow, because his reaction to the swim cap was already disarming. You can only let out a quick chirp, a delayed tensing of your entire body before Anton was already turning around to walk towards the rest of his team. You were there in the same spot for a solid six seconds, frozen until you heard Anton’s coach speak. Only then did you turn around and head back towards the double doors.

You waited patiently on the seats. You could hear the muffled sounds of everyone cheering and clapping, what you assumed to be the official end of practice. You heard the quiet chatter and the sound of people gathering their things. You were waiting to hear for something, then suddenly the doors swung open and everyone was leaving in a large crowd. You instinctually kept your head down as everyone walked by. You just stayed focused on their feet or pretended to look at your phone as they passed by. You didn’t look up, afraid you’d catch the eye of someone who would somehow know you.

Only when the final pair of feet stopped in front of you did you look up. Everyone else kept moving past Anton but he stayed there, one hand holding the strap of his duffle bag that was slung over his shoulder. He looked down at you with a smile on his face. You looked towards his teammates, who weren’t concerned with anything else besides making their way to the dining hall or finally going homw. He looked down at you like he didn’t kiss your forehead like he’s your boyfriend. He only motioned towards the exit.

“This way,” he said gently.

You can’t say much after you leave the gym. Your mouth is dry from Anton following your lead to get out of the building. You almost lead him to the locker room on accident, too afraid to ask him where the exit was. You couldn’t even manage looking behind you helplessly for Anton to point in the right direction. You just stumbled through, hearing his footsteps close behind you. 

When you were finally out you breathed the fresh air. April was always crisp, the cold weather from winter making the transition to spring. The setting Sun made the warmer weather become even more cool. The sweats Anton threw on after practice was perfect for this weather. His gray set looked comfortable, even in the sparse sections where the gray was dark from getting slightly wet. The neck, the bottom hem. Part of his sleeve and the hood. 

You’re still looking at the damp part on his chest when he’s suddenly coming too close again. You brace yourself for another kiss on the forehead, but he goes even further. He caves into you, one arm wrapping around your waist while the other cupped your face. You could feel the prune in his hands from being in the pool. He smelled like chlorine and a warm room, filling your nose as he kissed you. 

You instantly put your hands on the base of his neck to keep him there. The fabric of his hoodie was damp underneath your fingers from where the bottom of his hair was still shedding water droplets. You felt a few droplets fall on your hand, cold and slipping between the cracks of your fingers. You held him a little tighter because you thought he was pulling back, but he was only tilting his head to get a better angle. You mirrored him, leaning further into his body just to feel his arm wrap around your waist tighter.

He breathed hot air into your mouth and you did it back. Each time you pulled your lips back Anton chased after you, and when he pulled back you did the same thing. You were panting into him, too afraid to break him out of whatever mood he found himself in. Your chest was heaving from lack of air and excitement but you were focused on giving Anton back everything he gave you. 

You couldn’t stop yourself from whimpering when you felt his tongue push into your mouth. You touched your tongue to his, remembering the last time you were both like this. You fisted his hoodie to keep him in place and you felt his hand shift to palm the back of your head. You found yourself desperate to reach through the fabric and touch him. You were greedy, hand trailing up from his neck to grab a handful of his damp hair. You were careful to not grip, to not add too much pressure. Despite being lost in him you felt like you were only one misstep away from Anton remembering how awful you were and that he was supposed to be indifferent to you. You felt water droplets fall from his strands to transfer to your hands, traveling down your tilted arms before wetting the fabric of your shirt.

Anton’s arm wrapped around your waist to pull you even closer. You felt yourself shift to your tiptoes to accommodate, and then his hand that palmed your head moved to your chin. He tilted your head up until it broke the kiss. 

Before you could react to the loss of contact you felt his soft lips close around your bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth. 

He’s never done this with you. The idea that he’s tried this on someone else almost makes you want to pull away, but you feel the lightest pressure from his teeth and his arm around your waist refuses to loosen. It felt like he was trying to take a piece of you with him, you felt the pressure and the suction from his closed lips around yours. 

Both of his hands shifted to holding your face. You felt him press your cheeks together with gentle pressure, causing your lips to push into a pout. You narrowed your eyebrows from the inability to kiss him like you wanted. He was just eating you alive just a few moments ago but now he was hindering you. You let out a defiant sound, something that was pitiful because you wanted to keep kissing him and whiny because you wanted to show him that you were good at it.

Anton stopped kissing you deeply, pulling his tongue and face away to start kissing your squeezed lips. They were chaste and obnoxiously loud, replacing the sultry quiet with obvious smacking. 

You felt a breeze and opened your eyes to the orange sky and remembered that you were in public, and the loud sounds your lips were making could draw attention. You still didn’t pull at Anton’s hair, even if your cheeks were flamed from embarrassment. The side of his face caught the Sun, making his skin turn to a beautiful gold. The Sun came through the black hair you still refused to grip, blocking some of it from blinding you. You knew that behind you on the building for the indoor pool you and Anton formed one shadow. You could see Anton instead of just feeling him, the gentle swiping motion on your cheek with his thumb and the way his lips started curling into a smile with each loud kiss. You gripped his sweatshirt tighter, puckering your lips even further trying to do something on your own volition. 

The moment you started adding to the loud sounds of kissing, he pulled away. Anton ended it with a big final kiss, pressing your wet lips together before he pulled away with a mwah! Even if this was some form of torture you still whined from loss of contact, because Anton’s hands went back to being at his side. He smiled like his lips weren’t covered in your spit and like your bottom lip wasn’t thrumming from the pressure. 

Your chest was rising and falling quickly. When Anton pulled away. the Sun was fully on you now, the light slightly blinding you. Your pupils weren’t prepared for the light, you were disoriented from lack of oxygen but Anton was smiling at you like you weren’t about to burst into flames. You were so consumed that when he came close you leaned in again, preemptively parting your lips.

He passes your lips completely, mouth going to your ear instead.

“Thanks for the swim cap by the way,” he whispers.

His voice is surprisingly even. Your fingers were cramped from holding his sweatshirt so tight. He bent over to grab his duffle bag. You were trying to figure out when he dropped it as you cleared your throat.

“No problem,” you replied.

Your voice was scratchy and raspy. You straightened your clothes and didn’t know what to do with yourself.

“You gonna come see me at practice tomorrow, too?” he asked.

You nodded, licking your lips to taste him.

“At the end of the week there’s a few teams coming from surrounding colleges and we are going to have a little mock swim meet.” 

You were still nodding your head. Your chest was heaving, you breathed through your nose like you just climbed a flight of stairs. You were still clutching desperately at his hoodie when he smiled and touched your chin.

“Tomorrow you can just go up to the press box and watch from up there,” he said. 

Each order was received with a nod. You were still trying to ground yourself when Anton started walking away from the gymnasium.

“You gotta get back to your dorm right?” he asked, tilting his head in the general direction of your place.

You trailed behind him, fixing the part of your jacket that slipped off your shoulder. You were rushing behind him, trying to figure out if whatever had happened to you actually happened. Your chest was still hammering looking at Anton push his hands into his pockets. Those same hands were pushing your jacket off your shoulder and pulling you closer. He was everywhere just a few moments ago, you couldn’t fake nonchalance like he was. He slowed down and you closed the distance. The moment you were next to him he pointed his thumb in a different direction.

“I have to go somewhere though,” he said. 

“That’s fine,” you said.

“I’m meeting somebody,” he added.

There was a falter in your steps. A break in the steady breeze. You shook your head slightly before looking down to your feet.

“I understand,” you said.

“See you tomorrow,” Anton bumped playfully into your side. “friend.”

This was the fourth day you were trapped in the press box during Anton’s swimming practices. The broadcasting microphones for announcers and the rigid seats were your only company. You were scared at first being here, afraid to even settle in the seats worried that you’d mess something up. Anton had to assure you over text that he was using his captain privilege so you had endless access to the empty space. The room was unused in the off-season and wasn’t stuffy like the pool, a perfect place just for you.

You had the best view of the swimming pool below. You stopped telling yourself that you were here to do homework on the first day. You made sure to get everything done before coming, because the books you brought would always end up closed, your head balanced on top as you looked down at him. Now, you shamelessly watched Anton from above. You felt like a creep, keeping a close eye on him and never bothering to look anywhere else. You had to cover your face with your hand whenever he would take his shirt off and bashfully look away when he’d occasionally lift his head towards you. 

Anton was talented. Even by knowing only the bare minimum about swim you knew that he was gifted. There was always kept a gap between him and whoever he was next to in the water. He watched his teammates alongside the coach and helped whoever needed it. He even had his own whistle, leading reps whenever the coach was out doing something else. 

You were subjected to seeing him shirtless while leading a team everyday. You have been forced to think about your relationship up here in the solitude of the press box. Atleast you weren’t in the muggy atmosphere of the pool. Here the air was clearer and didn’t smell like chlorine. 

Still, it would get a little harder to breathe seeing Anton from up here all day. You had grown accustomed to hearing your own labored breathing at the sight of him pulling himself up out of the pool. He always wore the swim cap you got him, water shedding from his body as his muscles tensed. Seeing him hold his breath and get serious as he sliced his hands through the water. 

You found an inexplicable joy in watching him from up here. You knew what he was doing, who he was talking to. Because you had limited access to Anton now, there was plenty left to your imagination. When you were up in the press box looking down at him, there was no room for confusion. 

But today was different. Anton told you that colleges surrounding the area were coming for a mock swim meet. When you came into the press box today and sat in your chair you saw that the usual number of people had tripled. You were lost in the sheer amount of swimmers, your elevated view of the gym didn’t help. You couldn’t find Anton by his swim cap because everyone was wearing the cap of their designated school. 

Your elbows are propped on the small desk as you search for him. He’s not poolside, he’s not chatting with his coach who is chatting with the other coaches. He wasn’t in the pool getting practice laps in. You kept searching, you looked for people wearing your school colors one by one. You even scooted to the edge of your seat, trying to get the best vantage point possible.

You found Anton sitting on the bleachers. On the outskirts of what you could see, he was at the edge, leaning against the safety curtains. A towel was slung over his shoulders. He wasn’t wearing the swim cap you got him either. What was the most jarring was seeing the amount of people surrounding him. He was not talking to anyone from his team, you saw they were mingling with people from other campuses or helping organize the space as stand-in managers. 

Anton was fully entertaining a group of girls. He was in the middle of it, too. Two girls sat on the row behind him, leaning forward to hear every word he was saying. One of the girls feet was propped on the row Anton sat on. Her foot was so close the side of his leg, each time she moved she grazed his body. A girl on the row in front of him had her back fully resting against the safety curtains, looking at him and anyone who was talking. When she spoke she only looked towards him. She was sitting next to a girl whose head was on a swivel, the closest to Anton and the only one you couldn’t get a good look at. Anton had one foot propped right next to her. Sometimes the conversation only seemed to revolve around them, with everyone else listening in. Two girls sat at the row below them, side by side. They fully had their backs facing you, but you could see them occasionally bump shoulders whenever Anton wasn’t looking at them. There were three more girls on his side that wasn’t against the safety curtain, one on each row their group occupied. They all leaned in, facing towards Anton. The girl on his row was only separated from him by his duffel bag.

They all had the same body language, caught up in Anton and every move he was making. You watched each of them take turns looking at his shoulders and what his towel was covering. Occasionally  they’d catch eachother taking peaks, to which they’d make small expressions they thought Anton didn’t catch. Or maybe they wanted him to see. 

You never thought a view of him from up here could end up like this. You liked seeing him from up here because you liked thinking about him having an audience up here. You wondered if he behaved differently with you watching as opposed to you not. You told him you would come a little bit before the mock swim meet because you had class. You took your phone out of your pocket, placing it flat on the table. You continued watching him as you pressed your passcode from muscle memory. You went to your messages, only taking a peak at your phone to make sure you were in the chat you had with him. 

There was anger in choosing what to look at. You couldn’t bring yourself to miss Anton getting closer to a girl to repeat something but watching all of them lean in. You watched one fold her arms closer to her chest and make the smallest movement to get closer to him. When he stopped holding his towel over his shoulders they all peeked, looking at his hands go down to rub down his legs quickly. They smiled when he smiled, they laughed when it seemed like he said nothing. You rolled your eyes and fully went to your phone. You picked it up from the surface of the table, hearing each defining click as your fingers jabbed your keyboard.

you: i’m here.

Heat fanned your face as you watched his phone light up on the bleachers. You saw three of the girls lean in at the same time, trying to see what was happening before Anton grabbed his phone. He was calm. You gripped your phone tight in your hands, fingers pressing into the keys so hard alternative options for the letters popped up. 

You didn’t even get the satisfaction of seeing the read receipt. No text bubbles to show he was typing, no glance upwards to the press box. You just watched Anton turn off his phone and set it face down on the bleachers, continuing the conversation like nothing happened. 

You didn’t know what he was saying, just watching his lips move before he sat up a little straighter. You watched his towel slide off his shoulders, falling down completely to the aisle behind him. Part of the towel ended up on the foot of the girl sitting behind him. She moved and you watched her hand push into his bare shoulder. All the other girls followed suit, pushing at some part of his body. One pushed his bare knee, the other pushed his thigh. Someone pushed at his other shoulder, and another pushed his chest. Each of their hands touched his body in a terrible sequence, to which he held up his arms like he was sorry. You saw his arms flex, to which all the girls pinched the muscle and made shrill sounds you swore you could hear.

Anton was bashfully putting his head down too. You saw that he had the same knowing smirk when he’d wind you up. He shook his head while all the girls chatted amongst themselves. The second they weren’t looking at him he was looking at you up in the press box. Your tongue was poking the inside of your cheek, you pulled your hands across your chest so tightly it almost hurt. His smile is so innocent. You think your phone is going to crack in your hand. 

You go to your phone and start typing again.

nice to see you with your other frien|

this is why i never|

you need to stop talking to the|

Nothing seems right. You know that you can’t stop him, but it’s egregious. The way he lets the girls touch all over him, how he doesn’t try to stop it. He knows you’re up here. He knows you’ve been watching him and usually around this time of day he would be kissing you like he was yours again.

When you heard the voice of the coach saying it was time to start the meet all of them turned around. The girls whose face you couldn’t see turned around, and you let out a quick sigh of defeat. The girl that was caged in by Anton’s foot and looking at him intently the entire time was the same girl in his dorm that night. She made sure to wait for him to gather his things so she could follow him down the bleachers too, holding out a cautionary hand towards his back like she was going to fall.

you: it’s nice to see you with your other friends.

You sent the text in a blind rage. You saw his hand holding his phone, and felt the quick satisfaction of seeing him receive the notification. You saw him look at his phone and felt sick pride bubble in your chest as his steps faltered on his way down the steps. You saw him type, and in real time you saw the text bubble appear at the bottom of your message history.

anton: you haven’t even seen all of them yet :)

The mock swim meet continued with the same energy. You didn’t know that Anton was such a celebrity. People from colleges who weren’t outwardly cheering him on watched from the bleachers. Even those who were next up weren’t concerned with getting their head in the game; they were concerned with watching Anton get into position on the starting block. The low chatter ceased and there was bated breath. Anton went into each different pose with the countdown, then when the whistle blew he dived in. 

There was a different intensity compared to his practices. Where he was more focused in helping his teammates or talking to his coach, this was different. He launched himself into the pool, he was bringing his arms so quickly into the pool you almost missed it. He pushed off the other side of the pool with ease. That playful attitude was gone, replaced with a need to win at a competition that meant nothing. 

He beat a record, you were sure because everyone was amazed when the final time appeared on the board. The easygoing way he approached practice was replaced with speed and technique. You understood why he was beside the coach during practice and the captain of the team. 

Seeing him win only fueled that anger rolling in your stomach. The sensation became even worse because he was a good swimmer, and he knew that he was playing you. You were also mad because you should’ve been uninterested, but the way he went through the water had you on the edge of your seat watching intently.

The meet went by fast. You were up in your tower, watching as Anton and everyone else made their way out of the pool and put their clothes back on. 

Everyone gathered around the edge with their towels draped over their shoulders, listening to whatever the coaches was saying. You watched Anton meander off to the edge of the group, and then you saw him look up to you. Almost immediately you sat up a little straighter, and when he waved slightly you just clutched your hand at your side.

You don’t think anyone noticed you up there. But a moment after Anton looked up to wave at you, the girl standing beside him looked up next.

You and Anton haven’t talked about her since you came to his dorm that night. You figured that you don’t really have the right to ask because you two weren’t together. The conversation in the courtyard was about being friends. You think the making out was meant as a form of torture, and the fact that you two only kissed in public instead of in private was punishment as well. The girl that was in Anton’s room must’ve known about you, you’re sure of it. She was looking at you like you were familiar, and you saw her take the smallest side-step away from him.

But you’re taken out of your rumination. Anton watched everyone else clear out of the gymnasium and stayed behind like the good captain he was. You were sure he was also fishing for more attention, because almost everyone on their way out congratulated him on his performance. They patted his back and you were rolling your eyes. You noticed that the girl stayed behind too. While Anton was saying goodbye to his teammates, the girl talked to the coach. When everyone had finally left it was the two of them talking to the coach for a while. You were fidgeting in your seat, wondering what their coach was saying to them that had them listening closely and nodding their heads. 

You felt your chin dig into the top of your hand. You knew that it was past the time for thing to be over, and that this meeting was cutting into your after-practice time with him. You two were supposed to be spending a good five minutes kissing like you’d never get the chance to again. 

The first day it was outside the building. The second day it was on the bleachers, when Anton beckoned up to you in the press box and you rushed down. Yesterday, he sent you a text to go come into the locker rooms and you had to pretend to have better judgement just for him to tell you it was clear and you wouldn’t get caught.

Without fail, each time was intense. Anton using one hand to cradle your neck and the other pulling you closer. You were always holding onto him so roughly your fingers would cramp and you’d work through depleted lungs and a tense jaw. You knew you were taking it more serious than him, when his kisses would turn playful you were just as desperate, pulling him closer and tilting your head in an effort to push into him. You were so enveloped you never even commented on how he’d smile into your lips, obviously finding humor in the way you were so clearly obsessed.

You couldn’t tell him to not make fun of you because you were too entranced. You were completely engulfed, completely submerged in everything about him. The way he smelled like chlorine and a warm room, the way he held you even if he found it amusing. He kissed you like he meant it, even if you were sure this was another way of him torturing you for previously torturing him. 

Regardless of how he treated you, the post-practice makeout was the only time that it felt like you two weren’t at odds. Even if he laughed into your kisses and he was always the one to break away from you, that was the tiny sliver of life with Anton where his intent of remaining friends faltered. 

You took your kissing time very seriously. So you couldn’t stop yourself from letting out a sigh while watching Anton and the girl and their coach talk. You’re sure it was important. But they were talking for two minutes already and that was two minutes less you’d have of Anton kissing you and pulling you closer. He already spent so much of the meet with her. You wondered what else they could be talking about while you clutched your phone tighter to your chest.

When the coach walks off you let out another breath. This one is relief, you turn the chair next to you to start putting all your things together in your backpack. You waste no time slinging the bag over your shoulder to get ready to meet him poolside. You look down one more time just to get the signal from Anton on where to meet. Instead of him looking up at you with a knowing smile on his face he is looking down at the girl and talking to her.

You can’t stop yourself from plopping yourself down in the chair and letting out an annoyed breath. You tilt back in the chair as much as it will allow, until it creaks and you have to dig your feet into the ground to keep going. The chair rocks back and forth, letting you see Anton and the girl before you go back too far and they disappear from your view. You repeat the motion over and over, tilting back and forth to watch their conversation continue to go on. One minute of Anton kissing is replaced with him talking to the girl. You can’t stop yourself from rocking back and forth, each time they disappear from your view you pray that they won’t still be talking. 

When you rock forward, convincing yourself that you’ll get up and leave this time, you see both of them looking up at you. 

Instantly you straighten. The chair creaks behind you again but you remain upright, not giving to the momentum. You look down at them, hands gripping the armrest as you push yourself further upright. Anton motions to you and the girl reaches a hand up to wave at you. You wave back after a moment, and then Anton is looking at her again. You see her nod, then he puts a hand on her shoulder and she starts walking towards the exit. 

You continued to watch her walk away, leaning forward as far as you could go. You leaned so far you almost slid out of the seat. Only when you saw the exit open do your shoulders relax. You quickly look back where Anton was walking, just to see that he’s standing on the outskirts of your line of sight. He’s smiling up at you, just to exaggerate turning his body towards the exit that the girl walked to. You try to change the subject by getting up from your seat, but Anton puts both of his hands up and mouths stay there. So you stay. You sit back down in the creaky chair and wait for Anton to make his way through the gymnasium to get to you.

Anton knocks and peaks through the door like you wouldn’t be there. You can tell he’s being playful before opening the door fully to come in.

He changed back into the clothes he was wearing before the swim meet. Light wash jeans hugged his thighs and he was wearing something that looked like a band tee. He had a zip-up hoodie slung over his duffle bag.

“You were watching me like a hawk,” he says playfully.

You go to take your backpack out of the chair so Anton can sit but he just comes closer to you instead. He throws his duffel over your bag. Instantly you reach forward and pull his bag off of yours, putting it on the floor.

“I don’t want my bag smelling like chlorine,” you say.

There’s an edge to your voice. Anton picks up on it immediately, raising an eyebrow. He’s slow draping the strap of his back on the back of the chair so it’s not touching the ground.

“Fair enough,” he says casually. 

The refusal to give a reaction makes you even more upset. The fact that he gets on his knees in front of you and parts your legs with his own hands to accommodate his body makes you even more upset. Like he wasn’t whoring himself out for everyone, he puts his head against your knee and cages himself between your legs.

“I wasn’t watching you like a hawk either,” you add.

Anton guides your hand to his head but scoffs. You refuse to touch him, a motionless hand just resting on top of his soft hair.

“I could feel your eyes on me the whole time,” he says

You grip his hair slightly. He only leans into your hand, rubbing gently on your thigh.

Anton moves to fully rest his body against your leg. His other arm wraps around your calf to bring it closer.

“I’m so drained,” he says.

“I’m sure you are,” you scoff.

Your hands in his scalp become a little tighter. You purposefully pull at his hair rough, gripping rather than massaging. He only moves to balance his chin on your knee to look up at you.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks.

“You just looked busy is all,” you answered.

“Well I was swimming a ton,” he says.

The faux innocence is palpable. His eyes are wide like he’s genuinely confused, but there’s that same haughty smirk he wears after kissing you. You didn’t know he was such a player. You pull at his hair again, he doesn’t wince like you wish he would. He just sighs, leaning into your grip.

“Feels good,” he sighs.

Just for that, you pull a little harder. Finally he winces, eye closing on the side you pulled.

“You like the swim cap I got you?” you ask.

Anton hums a yes. You feel more of his weight lean into your leg, to the point that you have to flex so you can support him. 

“Why didn’t you wear it?” you ask.

You know why. He had to wear the school-issued hat because it was a swim meet. He has to follow your hand to alleviate the pressure. You move a piece of hair from the side of his face to see his reaction. 

“Had to wear the schools,” his arm wraps tighter around your leg. “gotta represent.”

You watch him part his lips to say something else.

“Did you know everyone here?” you ask.

He moves his head so his chin is balanced on your thigh. He looks you right in the eyes and his hands drum a pensive beat on your thigh.

“I went to highschool with some of them. Met some of them through competitions over the years. Friends with a few of the girls—“

At that you pull Anton’s hair too hard. He reaches up to grab your wrist quickly, rounding around it with ease.

“Too rough,” he breathes out. 

“Sorry,” you apologize.

Anton’s hand around your wrist makes you have terrible flashbacks. There are thoughts of him being in this same position with him, playing with his hair after everything. The sound he made when you pulled at his hair made you remember how easily he folded to pain and liked being marked. Despite your apprehension Anton would reveal his neck and chest to you. You’ve compromised with him by leaving a few marks on his waist before his meets, something that would be covered up by his compression shorts. As you look down at his face now you wished you would’ve left an angry mark on his neck. If there was a purplish bruise forming on his chest those girls wouldn’t have been all over him. 

Anton fully lifts his head from your leg to smile. Your cheeks are burning that you were caught being jealous. He just clasps over both of your hands easily, moving them back and forth before he kisses the side of your fist.

“Come with me to the bar tonight,” he says.

Anton was completely indifferent to your confession. He kisses your hand again when you take too long to answer, and you remember that you haven’t kissed his lips in more than twenty-four hours. 

“Who’s going?” you asked.

Anton’s lips are still pressed into your hand before he pulls away slightly. His bottom lip catches on your thumb before he pulls away fully.

“My teammates,” he answers. “the girls from the other colleges are going, too.”

You clench your fists in his hold, your tongue runs over your top row of teeth.

“Why are you inviting me?” you ask.

“I like inviting my friends to functions.” Anton says. 

Your jaw tenses at his answer. The quick answer causes almost a knee-jerk reaction. Your eyes that were always darting around him threatened to roll to the back of your skull. Anton keeps his eyes on you, and you pull your hands from his grasp to reach for your backpack in the seat beside you.

“Yeah. I’ll go,” you say.

Anton perks up immediately, standing to his feet in an instant to clap his hands together.

“That’s great to hear,” he says.

He already is turning around and adjusting his duffel on his shoulder to head for the door.

“As friends,” you add.

“As friends,” Anton repeats.

He opens the door for you, using his foot as a stopper and stretching his arm towards the dark hallway. You’re trying to keep your face neutral, it’s harder to hide when you don’t know how to feel. You just know you’re tired of seeing the smirk on Anton’s face everytime he gets a good look at you. You force yourself to smile as you clutch your strap closer to your body.

“As friends,” you say one last time.

Anton doesn’t repeat it, he just nods as you pass by him, reaching his body forward to nudge you as you tried to make your way through the doorway.

The gymnasium has been completely cleared out by the time you leave. Anton leads the way because most of the buildings lights have been turned off. You have to go a different way than usual, going through the weight room instead of past it like you had before. As he led the way you were thinking about all the possibilities of going to the bar. There’d be girls drinking. The thought of drunk girls surrounding Anton made you upset, and being upset made you cringe inwardly and even more angry. You couldn’t stop thinking about girls becoming more bold and properly touching him, or feeling him up in some dark corner of the bar. Anton was single, he only had friends. You couldn’t stop him but you didn’t want him to go.

He pulls out his phone while he’s walking in front of you. It’s the only source of light in the emptied building. You can see Anton hunched over to look at his screen. You watch his duffle sway back and forth on his shoulder, bumping into his leg while he’s engrossed in whatever is on his screen. 

Your journey is mostly quiet, just the sounds of your feet moving against the linoleum floors. You hear the occasional squeak. The blues from the pool reflect through the hallways. You follow the light of Anton, who is so engrossed in it he doesn’t look up even when opening the door. You’re sure he only holds it open for you from muscle memory, still looking at his phone while he his foot acts as a doorstopper. He only leaves the door when you walk past him. 

You take the quickest peak to the side. You don’t know who you were expecting Anton to text. You hoped it was one of the men on his team, maybe even the coach. But when you took the quickest peak while Anton was enveloped in the conversation it was with the girl. Something about where she parked her car. She was asking about his estimated time of arrival because you saw Anton take a look at the time on the top of his phone before his eyes darted to you.

You were already looking forward by that time. You were sure he saw you inspecting the chat history between him and the girl. Maybe if he slipped up enough you could see him sending the same teasing texts he was sending you. You eye his phone again, trying to focus between looking and taking steps towards your doom. You can’t imagine what a car ride would be like with her. You couldn’t imagine sitting through the journey of Anton sitting in the passenger seat, just to go to a bar where a million girls would hit on him.

You make it to the parking lot. To the left is Anton’s dorm and to the right is yours. Straight ahead there’s the car. You watch Anton wave and the headlights blink twice.

“I call shotgun,” he says casually.

You stop in your tracks. You see the same smirk he’d have whenever he’d pull away after kissing you like his life depended on it. You know he’s not joking, and you imagine how happy he’d be to have you and the girl in the same small confined space together.

Anton turns around after you didn’t follow behind him. His smile doesn’t falter. He only tilts his head casually towards the car and holds out a hand.

You go past the offer to his wrist. You grab it fast, hand wrapping around the bone and you press your fingers into his skin. His arm falters from the sudden force, his body gives when you pull him towards you. The shock on his face is palpable, his eyes are wide and looking at you. The car lights blink again and you go left, pulling Anton after you. 

When you feel the hesitation in his steps you only pull harder. When he staggers because he’s off-balance and confused you only keep going. You deviate from the path to walk on the grass. The car lights fade away and you hear the notifications coming through on Anton’s phone. You only look behind you to make sure Anton is following every single step. He does take a peak at his phone, walking confidently before falling in place behind you.

“Her car is this way,” Anton says, pointing in the opposite direction. 

You barely grunt in response.

“She texted me saying she saw you pull me away,” he continues.

“I don’t care,” you reply.

Despite the unnecessary words, Anton doesn’t stop you from pulling at him. You know the grip you have on his wrist must be painful, but he says nothing. You dig your nails into his wrist just to prove it, you even change where you grip his forearm to get a better hold on him.

“She asked me if everything is okay,” he says.

You can hear his feet dragging across the grassy field. 

“Stop talking about her,” you say quietly.

His dorm is in viewing distance. For the first time since you started moving you feel the slightest resistance in his steps. 

“Where are we going?” he asks.

He talks too much. He has to know where you’re taking him. He knows what his dorm building looks like, he’s walked this path hundreds of times. 

He has been on a mission to push your buttons, prying and asking questions he already has the answers to. Insisting you two are friends but kissing you, showing off his body to anyone who will look, making you come to his practices like you’re a fan. He has had you watching him from a distance entertaining everything that would’ve gotten a rise out of you. You came to him and even apologized. You watched the girl in his dorm room staring at you while you were wallowing in regret and gettin ready to apologize and beg for another chance. You have been working off the regret and shame that came with turning him down you’ve accepted the shit he’s thrown at you. You’ve taken all of that but he won’t even shut up and follow you back to his place. 

After you don’t respond to him you get your moments of silence. You continue to cut across the large grassy quad, breathing through the bursts of liquid anger that bubble in your stomach. The dragging steps calm you, and you think you might be able to vocalize calmly to Anton about where you’re taking him to.

“My friend is waiting up so we gotta go to her car—”

Instantly you turn around. Anton almost bumps into you from the sudden stop.

“We aren’t fucking going to her car, we aren’t going anywhere with her,” you say.

You are still holding onto Anton’s forearm tightly. You can see the dimples in his skin around your fingers from the force. 

Despite this, despite everything, he still has that coy look on his face. 

“Why not?” he asks tilting his head.

You smile, letting out a sigh and closing your eyes. For the first time you let go of Anton’s forearm and your fingers cramp for a second from the rough hold you had on him. 

You take a step forward. Your hand presses to his solid chest and like a lightning strike everything comes down at once. You laugh dryly and take another step forward.

“You think I’m going to go to the fucking bar,” you tilt your own head slightly. “so I can watch a bunch of drunk girls throw themselves at you?” 

Anton keeps the same coy look. There’s a twitch upwards at the corner of his lips. You drag your hand from his chest to his forearm, where your fingers fit right where they were before. You don’t even have to tug on him again. He follows behind you silently. You can feel his arm tensing in your hold.

The first few steps are silent. You make it to the crosswalk.

“Then where are we going?” he asks.

Anton’s question floats in the air right as you two end up in front of his building. 

You’re calmer now though. Instead of having an outburst like you did on the grassy quad. People walk by you two, going in and out of the building. Your hand moves down from Anton’s forearm, interlacing your fingers. He reciprocates the hold, and you guide him to walk at your side.

“We are going to your room,” you say sweetly. “is that not fucking obvious?”

The sudden change of light going into the lobby of the building makes you blink. The harsh fluorescent lights are different from the warm glow of the street lamps. You can see Anton clearly now, and he looks at you like he knows something that you do not.

But he’s obedient. You both make a straight path for the elevators. He presses the button and by a stroke of luck there’s an elevator already waiting for you both. You step in forth, and you pull at his hand to bring him in.

There’s barely any commotion in the lobby. Many people opt to take the stairs, others sit in chairs scattered throughout the space. Some boring movie plays in common area. A residence assistant sits at a brown reception desk, scrolling away on his phone. No one notices you impatiently spamming the button to get the doors to close.

You two both watch the doors come to a close at the same time. In the gray metal reflection you see Anton standing behind you, leaning against the brown speckled wall. There’s a moment before you feel the upwards lurch of ascension. You turn to face him. 

Anton is fully smiling now, and you press both hand to his chest to fully back him into the corner. In the stumble you bring your lips to his.

The clash of teeth causes you both to stumble. You have both of your hands fisted in his shirt, wrapping them in your hold as you bring him closer. He wraps his arms around your waist quick. Like you’re going to lose him you pull even harder, working down to try and find the right place. You kiss him deeper and Anton reciprocates. You push against him harder, until you hear the dull thud of his head hitting the walls of the elevator. You finally find satisfaction in tucking your fingers under the waistband of his jeans where you can feel the bare skin of his waist.

“So warm,” you murmured against his lips. 

Anton was breathing heavy against your face. His lips were already pink and plump, there was a flush across his cheeks. His chest pressed against yours.

Anton mumbled something back and you felt his hands collect around your wrists. With the smallest amount of force you used all of your strength to keep your fingers tucked in his waistband. Anton didn’t pull your hands away but he moved his head backwards. You carelessly chased after him. 

“All mine,” you breathed out.

You don’t know if you said that on purpose. You were feeling heady, because Anton followed after you and showed no intent on disobeying. The more you press your fingers against his waist the more you think about Anton looking to you while talking to the girl. He was trying to make you jealous. The conversation in the press box, the intense makeout sessions. All of it was a ploy to get you here, pressing desperately against him and trying to swap more spit with him.

“All yours?” Anton asked.

“You’re mine,” you answer. “tired of pretending you’re not.”

He leaned fully in the corner of the elevator, standing straight to look down at you. You nodded without missing a beat and Anton shivered against your body.

His hands were still wrapped around your wrists. The elevator continued to dinged as it climbed up the floors. You thought that you had been in here for a century because something grand was waiting for you at the end of the journey. You didn’t even bother looking towards the door, busy trying to push past the threshold of Anton’s strength to go deeper into his jeans. The denim was already causing enough resistance. After you maintain eye contact there’s not only a lack of force from Anton’s hands, but guidance. He pushes your hands further into his pants, and you go even deeper. You can feel his dick hardening in his boxers, you can feel his taut skin against your fingertips.

You hear the ding of the elevator and it opens up to Anton’s floor. The hallway to his room seems so far but you have to take the trek. You pull your hands out of Anton’s pants to tug at his belt loop. He gets the hint and walks out of the elevator past you. Under the bright light of the elevator you can see him trying to catch his breath. 

Anton makes his way down the hallway leisurely. You’re walking behind him, dragging your feet because he’s doing the same. You take this time to be all over him: running your hand up and down his back, shifting your hands into his pockets, touching his hair. Every part of Anton you can touch you do. 

You’re still pawing at him when you get to his door. You feel the hard planes while you hear the sound of a key bumping into metal, a door handle failing to turn fully and the small sounds of Anton’s exasperated sounds. You’re pushing a little harder into him, wrapping your arms around his body. You feel up his arms and his hands, failing to put the key in and failing to properly open the door.

“Anton,” you whine. “hurry up.”

“I’m sorry baby,” he says gently.

You keep leaning against his body, until your ear is pressed to his back. When you’re flush against him you feel the light vibration of laughter, and you pull away instantly.

“Are you messing up on purpose?” you ask.

This is the loudest you’ve ever been in this hallway. The words bounce off the wall and has Anton looking over his shoulder to properly laugh at you.

You snatch the keys from his hand and bump into his body to push him out of the way. He purposefully puts his hand on your shoulder, trying to cage you in. You don’t falter, shrugging your shoulder to get his hand off of you. When you actually miss the keyhole Anton laughs even louder. 

Then, a second later the door opens. It’s a sound that comes with relief from you, and you step through the threshold first. You pull him in after you because he’s standing not moving an inch. By both hands on his arms you pull him and Anton lets himself be pulled, all the way until your back is against the door and he’s caging you against it. You bring him down by a hand on his neck until he bends into you. 

You’re purposefully sloppy with your kisses. You figure it’s giving him a taste of his own medicine, sticking your tongue inside until it touches his. Your hands are spanning down his chest, unzipping his hoodie and pushing it off his shoulders and revealing his undershirt. You run your hands over the ribbed fabric, going over his chest and even kneading his solid body. When he tries to touch your waist you reach down and smack his wrist away.

You’ve wanted his touches. You gave him the chance to reciprocate. You need time to reclaim everything before he tries to do the same. 

On the third smack of his wrist he finally understands. He presses his forearms to the door on either side of your body when your tongue runs over his lips.

“I don’t know why I let you convince yourself that you’re hard to read,” Anton says.

His chest pushes into yours each time he breathes. You think it’s your spit peaking past his lips. Your hand tucks underneath his waistband again and you reach your hands deep, until you’re hand is pressed between denim and muscular thighs. You like the perverted gropes you’re taking of his body and how he lets you. You keep feeling him, working your way to his soft inner-thigh. You can feel his dick twitching against your hand, but you refuse to touch him just yet. Reclaiming what’s yours, that’s all you’re doing.

“Touch me already,” you order against his lips.

“Yes ma’am,” he says.

You know that he’s taunting you but he slides his hand to the base of your neck to grip it. He bends his head to the crook of your neck and you press your head against the door, elongating it to give him more space. 

“You think I don’t know when you’re jealous?” he asks.

His lips are on the column of your neck, each word is ghosted over your clammy skin and you can feel the warmth of his breath.

You nod your head. Then you shake it. Then you start pulling at Anton’s leg while the other presses against his back to bring him closer.

He gets so close that he’s almost pressing into the door too. You hear it move in the frame, and you can feel Anton’s thigh come between your legs.

Anton’s hand briefly leaves your neck to go to your shoulder. He presses his hand down, pushing you down. He keeps pushing you, until you finally feel his solid leg pressed between yours. You immediately grind against him, and a pathetic sound slips through your lips when his hand goes back to your neck. 

Anton pulls away. He looks you in the face and your eyes are already watery, and you grind your hips in the smallest motion against him again. He kisses the tip of your nose, then your hot cheeks. He ends with placing a kiss on your forehead, smiling when he looks down at you.

“You’re so pent up you think you’d cum like this?” he asks. 

Before you can answer Anton pushes his own leg up. The random pressure makes you jolt, causing the door to move in its frame again. 

“Not jealous,” you push the words from the back of your throat as you apply more weight against his leg. “I don’t get jealous.”

He presses a kiss to the sensitive part of your neck. You tilt it to the side and try to bring him closer while your hips move slowly again.

“Not even when those girls were touching on me?” he asks.

You grind even harder against his thigh. You can’t tell if there’s something going on outside of your immediate senses. You think you feel yourself sliding down the door, you can feel your feet firmly planted into the ground. Anton is lower too, when he had to bend to kiss you it’s now you having to bend down to him. He kisses your neck hungrily, and a hand goes to your hips to keep guiding you back and forth. He forces your movements to be bigger. Tiny grinds that were just winding you up turns into something more languid. It feels too much like the real thing, especially after not having it for so long. 

“I was getting so jealous, you know.” Anton’s fingers slip underneath your shirt, fingertips pressing into your soft stomach. He makes you grind harder into his thigh. The feeling almost makes you forget what he was saying to you. You have to nod dumbly before moving your hands to his shoulders to focus. “I had to let you know how I was feeling,” he says.

“Jealous of what?” you ask.

“Everything,” he says casually.

Anton shrugs his shoulders like it’s nothing. You have to fight moving against the feeling of his leg between yours to refocus.

“Like what?” you ask.

Anton sighs and looks off to the side. He still guides your hips with his hand like it’s a mindless task he’s tending to. He looks back up at you with a smile on his face.

“The people you talked to in public,” his hand dips underneath your jeans to press fingers into your ass. He guides your hips by pushing on your soft skin. You can feel the force a little more while he thinks about it. “The people you were dancing with before you’d come see me.”

Anton laughs for a moment. You grip his shoulders and drop your head to his neck. You twist his undershirt in your hold when you feel that churn building in the pit of your stomach. 

“When it was really bad I was jealous of the food you’d eat and the music you’d listen to,” Anton’s voice is heavy and labored as he talks. “I was getting jealous thinking about what you were watching instead of watching me swim.”

You can’t bring yourself to say anything. You’e just letting out desperate whines into his neck and clawing lightly on his back.

“I just hide it better than you,” he says.

Only that brings you from your concupiscent stupor. You pull your head up from his neck, hands trailing up his body to grip at his hair harshly.

“Well I’m not throwing myself at a group of guys like a fucking whore,” you seethe.

“I had to do a little extra to make you feel the way I was feeling,” he says.

Suddenly you find yourself pushing at Anton’s broad shoulders. You engage your legs, working through the sore feeling to stand up fully. Anton looks up at you from the ground. On one knee it looks like he’s about to propose to you. Despite your lack of response he shows no remorse in his honesty, he almost seems happy as he looks up at you. 

“Go,” you point weakly to the couch behind him, swallowing the spit that gathered in your mouth and the shaky tone in your voice from grinding against his leg. “go to the couch,” you order.

Anton obeys immediately. He gets up from one knee but still faces you, watching you breathing heavy by his door. You follow him by mirroring each step. You’re slow, stalking him like prey while he’s walking like he’s baiting you in. 

His legs hit the back of the couch but you don’t stop. You get close until you’re chest to chest. One hand goes to your waist and the other goes to your chin, tilting your head up until you look at him. 

“I got you jealous, didn’t I?” he asks. 

Anton leaves the place on your hips to point at your face. That word sticks out in the most annoying way, nagging and constantly mentioned. When his finger stays in your face you smack it away. 

He only laughs. You push him until he’s sitting down on the couch.

“I knew it,” he says.

“Don’t make fun of me,” you chide.

“You deserve it,” he says.

Anton widens his legs. He’s splayed out for you, dick jumping in his pants. He’s inviting, despite what he may think he’s all yours. 

“I’ve suffered enough,” you say honestly.

You motion towards his undershirt. His hands that were resting on his thighs went to the bottom, grabbing the fabric. He only flicked the fabric up, making a part of his lower stomach bare. You can see his navel, you know where that vein on his stomach leads to. It disappears underneath the start of his pants.

“Take it off,” you say.

Anton leans slides from the back of the couch until he’s partially lying down on the cushions. He scoots a little closer to the end, until he can partially rest his head on the armrest. More of his shirt rides up from the movement. You can see the outline of his abs, flexing each time he moves.

“Make me,” he says.

You’re rough when you close the distance. Anton is lifting his hands preemptively, shirt riding up even higher. You pull the shirt up and over his head, tossing it somewhere. You have a knee on the couch beside his leg but you refuse to come closer. You create the distance so Anton has to look up at you. His hair is jostled from you taking off his shirt, brown strands layering across his forehead. Through his bangs he looks up at you, a playful glint in his brown eyes. You reach for his waistband next. You purposefully leave his boxers on but pull his pants off angrily. Anton is little to no help, only lifting his hips off the couch so you can pull at him again. The muscles underneath his skin tense and flex from all the movement.

He’s too beautiful. He’s Adonis on the couch, his legs are over the edge of the couch so you can sit next to him. You’re able to sit next to him and admire all of it. His hand goes behind his head on the couch and he settles in. Your hands run up and down his body, light as a feather. You go over his chest like a cross, going over the thin chain that hangs from his neck. You go across his nipples, pebbled from the attention and the cold air in his room. You go over the side of his body, strong and chiseled from swim before going right back to the vein on his lower stomach. You repeat it over and over again. Anton is still relaxed but he lets out a shaky breath. 

You don’t look up at him. Just seeing his body and remembering that other people were able to see it today makes heat flare in your chest. If you saw the face attached you’d vocalize it. You’d probably tell him he’s never allowed to go to a swim meet again or force him to delete and block that girls number. You’re determined to find a medium between what you’ve given Anton thus far and how you plan on carrying the relationship in the future.

“How’d you feel when you saw me talking to her?” Anton whispers. 

You can’t stop the tick. It’s a twitch in your jaw and the slight pause of your hand. The moment only lasts a second but Anton sees it, a smile on his face as he runs light fingers up and down your arms. You lean back on your haunches, feeling his hands go up to your shoulders before going back down. 

You refuse to answer. You just run your fingers over the thin red lines you left on his chest. 

“You know she’s not interested in me, right?” Anton’s hands are gentle going up and down your arms. He tilts his head to the side before his hands go to your head, patting your hair affectionately. “I’m not sure about the other girls but I can say for a fact she’s not into me.”

“She was in your apartment,” you say.

Anton’s eyes get wide. You were a little too harsh when you spoke. Instead of being breathy your words were firm. This was also your first time bringing up seeing the girl in his dorm. She had been so close to him during the meet and she saw you come to his dorm to confess.

Anton’s hands go down your arms to rest over your hands. He clasps your hands with his, and leans forward so he’s in your line of sight.

“She was coming over to talk about a leadership role on the team,” he says gently.

Anton sits up on the couch, fully propped up on his elbows to look at you. When he sees the pout you can’t stop he smiles.

“She thinks you’re nice by the way,” he says while leaning back. He settles against the armrest of the couch. “if only she knew.”

“That doesn’t matter,” you say.

You see Anton tilt his head to the side. He narrows his eyes. His hands go from your hands up to your forearms. He pulls you a little closer.

“What doesn’t matter?” he asks.

You come a little closer to him and run your hands over his stomach. The light red marks are still there, you touch him lighter. You tilt your head to match his, leaning into him a little more.  

“Doesn’t matter how bad someone else wants you if it belongs to me.”

Your confession was purposefully saccharine. You laid it on thick and worked through the cringe you felt prickling across your body. You felt sexy enough. You saw Anton twitch in his pants and he held your forearms a little tighter.

“What’s it?” he asks.

“You know,” you answer. 

Anton shakes his head.

“No,” he says, tapping on your forearms. “you gotta be a little more specific than that.”

“You know,” you said.

“I really don’t,” he says, laughing.

You said nothing, only focusing on unbuttoning the top of Anton’s jeans. You didn’t bother pushing the jeans further down than his mid-thigh. When you saw the bulge you stopped pushing the denim down, instead reaching your hand underneath his waistband to grab his dick. Anton wastes no time to buck into your hand, and you watch his muscles contract as he sits up on the couch. 

He props himself up on his elbow, with his other arm pressed between your body and the back of the couch just to keep a hand on the small of your back. When he moved his chain caught the light perfectly, reflecting slightly on his skin and yours. He was able to go underneath the bottom of your shirt to press into your back. When you pulsed your grip around his dick he pressed into your skin deeper.

“If I had known having girls as my friends would make you act like this,” he started.

The thought of Anton with other girls makes you squeeze your fist around him a little tighter. He tilts his head back, revealing his neck and underside of his chin. You can see the patch of light stubble he missed and his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. You repeat the motion just to see it again. His lips part and his head leans to the side, balanced against his elbow before he turns to look at you.

His euphoria is undeniable. His lip between his bottom teeth, his eyelids dropping low as he looks at you.

“I would’ve done all that sooner,” he finishes.

You have a firm grip on his dick, moving against the restriction of his underwear. You see his hands flex from the sensation, arms tensing where they’re propped to keep his body up.

“I would’ve danced with a girl at that warehouse,” he says.

You tease him where he’s most sensitive, rubbing precum with your thumb on the underside of his tip. You watch his hands tense as he tries to center himself. You increase the speed. His hips jerk the tiniest way into your hand. You like watching the pathetic movement and seeing his face mix with the pain of being teased and the euphoria of being touched.

You continue moving your hand, causing a protrusion in his boxers. You lean in close to Anton when you hear the wet sound of your rough handjob. Now it’s you tracing your nose along his sharp jawline. You go to his neck, tracing upwards and he thrusts into your fist.

“I wouldn’t let that happen,” you say. 

You suck on his earlobe and you follow after his head before he tilts it back to look at you. 

“You wouldn’t let that happen?” he asks.

You shake your head, going back to the teasing your thumb on his tip. He reacts instantly, a weak thrust as he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth.

Your hand that wasn’t fisting his dick scratched down his abs. You reveled in his reaction, feeling him adjust his hand on your back to push into you deeper.

“We wasted so much time,” you said quietly.

“You wasted so much time,” Anton clarified.

He hissed when you pressed your nails deeper on the drag down, leaving red streaks in their tracks. You sped up your hand too. Anton scooted down the mattress to get closer to you.

“So much time was wasted,” you rephrased.

The marks you left faded to a blush pink as your fingers moved further down. You kept going, focusing on your hands on his body instead of his face.

You made it to Anton’s boxers. You tucked your fingers underneath the cotton feeling them lock into place against his skin. His skin was hot from all the layers of clothes and the touching. You couldn’t stop yourself from taking one hand away to feel the rest of his body. He was so sculpted, every part of him showed discipline. You didn’t stop, tracing over the same pattern again and again. He was so soft too, you changed your touch from your fingernails to the pads of your fingers just to really feel him. 

You purposefully went lighter, the prodding turning to featherlight brushes. Anton was big but he was sensitive, skin jumping as he suppressed the urge to flinch away from the tickling. 

You were driven by his reactions. Anton was dedicated to the nonchalant demeanor as of late. He made out with you everyday until you were breathless but kept the same even tone, he let girls flirt with him while you were watching. He’s been so cool that seeing his body twitch away from you made you keep going. Your touches went even lighter, until you started to feel the tickle on the pads of your finger. The tiniest whimper had you looking to his face, and the same time your eyes widened he collected your hand with his wrist. 

You were held in place before you could trace your way back up his side. He was settled further into the couch, shoulders leaned against the armrest. 

“You were just talking about wasting time right?” he asked.

You nodded. You watched Anton’s hands go to his jeans that were still caught on his mid-thigh.

“Right,” you agreed.

You took your hand out of his boxers and began pulling them down. Anton was pulling his jeans down and you followed with his underwear. He also moved away from the couch, and you moved your legs to straddle his waist. You leaned your body forward to rest your head on his chest as you started taking your own pants off. The angle was awkward, both you and Anton were in the pursuit of wasting no more time that you both became clumsy. Your pants were caught on your ankles, you had to fully rest your body on his to get it off. Anton struggled against his jeans too, you heard the quick thrashing of him getting them fully off as you went back to straddling him.

You were desperate to waste no more time. You didn’t ask Anton to finger you, you even shook your head and smacked his hand away when he tried it. You were very serious about your foreplay. You saw the shocked look on Anton’s face when he moved his hand away from your pussy to instead hold your hips. You watched him get comfortable only for a second. You were sure his long legs were over the edge of the couch to accommodate his height.

“You sure?” he asked.

He looked so pretty underneath you. His dark was splayed against the dark cushion of his couch. He looked up to you with his eyes already blown out, but still so concerned with your pleasure. You were very serious about your foreplay. Anton was serious about yours too.

“I’m sure,” you said, nodding your head.

One hand balanced on his chest, right above his heart. Your other hand went between your two body’s. When you grabbed his dick in your hand you both gasped. There was something prickling in the air. Something felt new. Like it was the first time. You held his dick up straight and pulled in a breath, feeling the excitement tingle over your entire body. When you felt the tip prod you, your entire body tensed.

Anton’s thumbs started rubbing your waist gently. You felt each individual finger dimple your skin.

“Just relax,” he says carefully.

You nod again, bending your head so it’s facing away from him completely. You bite your lip and focus on the inside of your elbow. 

You let your hips sink. Anton’s body underneath your hand also stills. You can feel the intrusion, then the pressure when you get him inside. 

It’s like the first time again. You’re taken back to that first time you met him at the warehouse party and took him home. You two were in the same position then, after an hour of making out and messy foreplay. You didn’t know you’d be in this same position with him, with so much history behind it. Your walls close around him and it’s impossible to move further down. You pitifully pulse around just his tip and a little bit of his shaft, feeling like you’re already getting fucked.

“You got it baby,” he encourages. You hear the falter in his voice, when he has to pull in a sharp breath before the words crack. “you said it’s yours, right?”

“Yeah,” you answer.

You feel another inch inside of you. He presses against every part of you, and you can feel it deep. Anton’s fingers massage your hips, but you can feel quick moments of him holding you extremely tight.

“It’s all yours,” he repeats. “just gotta take it.”

You nod, still focusing on that part in your elbow. You press your teeth into your bottom lip, trying to take it.

“Look at me baby,” Anton says.

You put both hands on Anton’s chest and listen to what he said. You pull away from yourself to look down at him. 

He became wrecked in the small amount of time, cheeks fully flushed. You can tell his face is warm to the touch, and his own lip is red and swollen from being bit. You feel yourself loosen around him, all the want you’ve felt since Anton’s birthday helps your hips go further down.

Your hips can finally grind against his and Anton’s breathy words turn into a whimper. His fingers hold onto your hips rough. He guides your hips in the smallest motion back and forth. You grind against his waist, getting used to feeling him inside of you again. His lips are parted in ecstasy, you bring a hand to touch his cheek.

“I missed you,” you said quickly.

“I missed you too,” he says back immediately.

He feels so good inside of you. He fits inside like a puzzle piece. You already feel tears prickling your vision. You know Anton sees it, because his grip switches back to soothing circles. You can’t bring yourself to stop. He feels so good, even if you’re only moving your hips in the smallest motion. You need to feel him deep, you don’t think you find any pleasure in the speed or the roughness or the size. You just need to feel him pulse and press against your walls. The small moves you take is only supposed to prove that he’s inside.

“You know I’m not usually like this, right?” you ask.

You’re pleading with him to see your side of things. You should’ve been riding him for doing so good at his swim meet, or fucking him with a vengeance to get back at him for flirting with those girls. Whatever you were feeling fizzled into this, pathetic little whimpers and holding him for stability. 

You may have been immature before and you didn’t tell him how you felt but it’s not fair what he’s been doing to you. He’s been inconsiderate of your feelings, not understanding how it would make you feel to see him with all those girls. The attention he receives from people who aren’t you is unfair. 

You keep moving despite the burn in your legs. You were alternating between grinding and small little bounces, trying to get more. You don’t know what it is, but it’s not enough. Your hands go to Anton’s chest, your nails digging into his flesh.

“I’m not usually like this,” you repeat.

You’ve been desperate for Anton before, you’re sure of it. Times you’ve held him tight, times you’ve whimpered and said you needed more. There were times you begged Anton just for a touch, you’ve texted him before that you’ve needed to come over immediately. 

But this was unlike you to be grinding against him and refusing to even lift your hips because you just needed him to be inside. Your voice is so close to breaking you think if you lifted your hips you wouldn’t be able to stop the tears. You don’t know what you were close to crying about, you didn’t know why you were feeling everything so intensely. His body sways with yours from how much strength you put behind your hips.

“I know, I know,” Anton says honestly.

Before he brings a hand down on your ass you’re already pouting from him making fun of you. 

“I’m serious,” you lament.

Your hips move against Anton’s, you can feel his dick hitting deep. Each time you rotate your hips it’s like he touches something else. You can’t stop yourself from doing the motions, even if you need more to orgasm. 

You bite your lip and press a hand to Anton’s lower stomach to stabilize yourself. One of his hands leaves your ass to go over your hand, carding his fingers through the gaps.

“What’s on your mind?” he asks.

His voice is even, making you feel even more desperate. You rotate your hips the other way and a moan falls from your lips.

“I need it,” you moan.

“You’ve got it,” he says lowly. “you’re taking it.”

You shake your head and bend forward, until you’re chest to chest and your grinds against him barely do anything. 

“Need it in that way we did it one time,” you whimper.

Anton stills underneath you. His hand that was holding yours freezes. Everything about him is still and you get ready to explain in detail what you need.

“That time you said it was too much?” he asks.

You nod into the crook of Anton’s neck. Your moans are quiet just by knowing Anton remembers what you’re talking about.

“You sure?” he asks.

“Please,” you beg.

In the middle of another pathetic grind Anton stops your hips. You didn’t realize how weak you had become because he exerts almost nothing to stop you. 

He pushes his body up from the couch and your chests are touching. Then he moves you quick, where his feet are touching the ground and you’re still straddling him. 

“Not enough room,” he says simply.

There’s no teasing in his voice, only analytic. His arm wraps around your body and cages you closer to him. You’re almost satisfied with the closeness, you flick your hips again.

But you try to grind your hips again and he lifts you off the couch entirely. He’s still inside of you but the lack of stability forces an impatient whine. He presses a kiss to the side of your head over your hair, letting out a labored breath. You go to his neck and suck on the skin underneath his ear, you even press your teeth into him.

When he takes a step towards his room you shake your head. You know his soft springy mattress is too forgiving and would mitigate the strength you need to feel. You pull away from his neck, looking at the spit bead around the angry red mark. You look Anton right in the eyes, the brown almost lost to his blown out pupils. There’s no trace of playfulness. You feel like he is finally understanding the weight of your situation.

“Do it here, on the floor,” you say.

Anton readjusts you in his hold. You feel his dick pulse inside of you.

When you first started seeing Anton, he fucked like he had something to prove. Maybe it was your nonchalant attitude towards him or that you two only got together after a party. You thought he was determined to make you a part of his revolving list of hookups so he pulled out all of the stops. His energy was endless, endurance and strength lapped yours a hundred times over. He was pulling out positions you had never done before, prefacing everything with a shy this will feel good. 

You had seen him after a swim competition and you could tell he was trying to get something out of his system. He asked you to try something new in that innocent voice and you complied. Before you knew it your knees were bent to your chest while Anton pressed his weight into you. His arm was possessively wrapped around your ankle and your calves were pressed to his shoulder. The stretch, the strength, the way you couldn’t look away from him was too much. Everything about it was too intimate, and when Anton told you breathily it was the best he’s ever felt you had to tap on his shoulder to get him to stop. 

You need that right now. You need to be forced to look him in the eyes and have him unbelievably close, burning your legs from the stretch and hitting deep. Your body won’t settle for anything less. 

Anton finally understands. He lays you down on the ground and gets on top of you immediately. You relax your legs just to see Anton put you the way he wants. Just like the first time he grabs your ankles and settles between your legs. You feel his muscular legs cage you in, and the beginning of the stretch starts when he guides your legs to rest on his shoulders. Anton scoots closer and you know that this was what you needed. This wasn’t a want anymore but a necessity, you started clawing at Anton’s legs because he was taking too long.

“I need you, Anton.”

“You got me.” His hand reaches where you can’t see it, but you can feel the brush of his knuckles on your inner thigh. You can hear the wet sound of precum, you can feel some of it smearing across your skin. “I’m right here,” he whispers.

With each movement his chain dangles above you. The silver is almost mocking you, dangling above you like a taunt. You want to reach up and take it into your mouth. 

You feel him lining up again. You try to move further down but the position makes it pointless. Anton comes even closer, you feel your ass lift off the ground as he tilts your body up.

“Can’t you see how responsible I am?” he asks.

You’re lost in the throes of anticipation that your mind is hazy. Anton asked you a question. You blink and nod your head, thinking about responsibility.

Anton teases you, his dick pushing between your folds. You both twitch at the same time from the sensation, you let out a groan and Anton lets out a tiny whimper.

“We are so in tune with eachother,” he says. His tip nudges your clit again, then catches slightly on your hole. He’s so close to where you need him the most. “I know you can read me like a book, too.”

“I try my best,” you say.

Tears are threatening to spill past your water line from being teased. You’re in this position, your body being curved unnaturally from Anton’s weight. He brings his body closer to you, making the stretch in your legs feel even more severe. You whine underneath the stretch, you know your walls are fluttering around nothing.

Anton doesn’t push into you any further. There’s a lack of air from the amount of want and the position you’re in. He looks down between the two of you, just watching how his dick nudges and catches on you.

“Give me another chance after all of this,” you whimper. “I just need you to help me get this out of my system.”

“All that jealousy?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you say, nodding. “all of it.”

“What about after this?” he asks.

“I’ll tell you how I’m feeling all the time,” you answer.

As if that was what Anton needed to hear, he slid inside instantly. The position and your wetness made it easy. He was sheathed, hips kissing your ass and your face instantly contorted from the pleasure. Anton closed his eyes tight, letting his head hand low before he looked at down at you again.

He pulls out all the way. You know he’s covered in you, and he leans even more into you. You see his hair fall slightly to look down at you. You mirror his expression, eyebrows knitting together in euphoria.

“Don’t hold back from me anymore.” Before you can reply he pushes all the way into you again. It’s the deepest you’ve ever felt him, like your body is trying to expel him but suck him in even deeper. He pulls out a little to push right back in and a gasp is punched out of your gut. “Hurts my feelings,” he says.

“I won’t,” you whimper. Your hands are pulling at his muscular arms in an attempt to get him closer. “please don’t stop.”

Anton nods and keeps going. The wet sound fills the room, bouncing off the couch right next to you both. The hard ground doesn’t yield, giving Anton the proper stability to plant his body to go deeper. His hand holds your shoulder to keep you from sliding.

The ground doesn’t even hurt. Your body is thrumming with every movement, feeling him consume you and give you what you need. Anton is consistent. He’s fucking you like he wants you to be here forever. You don’t want it to end, impatiently pulling at him and whimpering each time his pace falters.

You see the sweat accumulating at his brow line. Your body’s are starting to stick together from all the sweat, you can feel your body leaving a sweaty imprint on his rug. Anton doesn’t stop, despite the burn he may feel and it makes your body reach that high again. Your hand goes to his cheek, pinching his soft skin.

“I love you,” you say.

The declaration hangs in the air. Anton stops, partially sheathed inside of you. His eyes focus blinking rapidly down at you. You don’t regret it. You nod when he says nothing in response, still rubbing his cheek gently.

“I really do,” you lament.

The moment of silence ends abruptly. Your legs fall from his shoulders to his waist, Anton comes all the way down until your pressed chest to chest. Your ass goes from being partially suspended in the air to pressed fully into the carpet. Anton wraps his arms around your body, pulling you impossibly closer to him. You feel the cold sweat on his chest and his hammering heartbeat.

Anton looks you right in the face. The tip of his nose touches yours, deep exhales fan across your face.

“I love you too,” he says.

Anton immediately resumes the brutal pace. You’re sliding across the covers now, held in Anton’s arms and feeling it all. Not only dos he pulse inside of you but his entire body ripples against you, muscles contracting as he gives you everything. You hear his legs moving against the carpet. He changes between fucking you forward, pulling you back, and pulling you up into him. 

You’re just as lost. The sounds you make are pathetic and feral. Whimpers that are cut off from a fast thrust, a moan that’s loud and prolonged when it’s deep. You can’t control anything, only digging your nails into your back to keep him there.

“Feels so good,” Anton whimpers. His voice has changed. It’s weak but firm, like everything in him has to get the words out no matter what. You nod against his head, finally feeling the warm tears slide down your face. You feel something wet against your cheek too, and when Anton sniffles between another moan you know what it is.

You pull Anton away from your neck by a gentle handful of his hair. Although it’s awful to not have every part of him pressed into you, you need to see his face. He’s reluctant only for a second, but then he presses his forehead into yours. You look into his teary eyes and he does it back. You both sniffle at the same time before Anton presses his lips to yours. The chaste kisses become carnal quick. Your tongues touch after you both push them past your lips. It’s messy, the wet muscle going over teeth and overlining lips before they find their way back. You’re tilting your head and Anton does the same. You are already running out of breath, feeding off of the euphoria of being so close. 

Anton’s devolve to rutting. Your moans are cut off abruptly, and you can feel your walls spasming around him. 

“I’m so close,” you whimper between kisses.

Anton nods and breaks apart.

“Me too,” he wedges a hand between your two body’s and instantly goes to your clit. Your body twitches against his. immediately, and you know you’re leaving terrible marks on his back. “cum with me baby, please,” he begs.

There’s nothing you can do after he asks. His fingers were moving perfect circles between his thrusts, and he was pressing against your walls more intensely. Everything was magnified, his body against yours, the sweat, the movement, the kissing, his cold chain against your skin. You couldn’t have resisted even if you wanted to. You brought him closer just to feel the weight of his body against yours, and your entire body was releasing at once. You felt the climax, mouth opening to let out loud moans. Anton did the same, pulling apart slightly to drive into you the last few times before stilling. His breathy moans were louder than yours, and he was holding tight to any part of your body he could touch. You let it happen, the coil that snapped seemed to twist even tighter before snapping again.

Your sounds eventually subsided. Anton was still letting out breathy whimpers, almost sounding pained from how good it felt.

Even after he finishes he stays in. Each twitch of his dick is twinned by your walls pulsing around him. You feel another spurt and can feel yourself gush around him again. Even with him inside it leaks. You can feel the mess web between your thighs and his balls. The stickiness doesn’t deter either of you. Anton lets your legs fall in a more comfortable way, sliding from the hold of his weight. There’s a shudder through your body, and you can feel more of you and Anton seep from you.

He kisses you with the same fervor as before. The orgasm was spent with you too moaning in eachothers mouths, whining loudly and swapping spit. Anton’s whiny moans got quieter, but were still prominent each time you pulsed around him.

“That’s what you needed, right?” he asked.

Anton looks at you sincerely. You can see the  skepticism. He has the same somber look that you used to ignore before shutting him out. You know it was the heat of the moment, you know that Anton knows you have the habit of getting sentimental when you’re close.

The flighty feeling is gone. You’re grounded, despite Anton partially lifting his weight off of you and instead using a forearm beside your head to hold himself up. 

“You know after this if you pretend like I don’t exist after, I’ll actually move on this time,” he says.

You hold his face with both of your hands.

“I meant everything I said,” you say, not breaking eye contact. “I really won’t hold back anymore. I’ll tell you how I’m feeling all the time.”

“You really want me around?” he asks. He holds your cheek gently, rubbing a thumb over your skin. “Not just for this?”

“I want it all,” you say. “I’m sorry I wasn’t upfront about that before.”

“I want it too,” he says. “I always have.”

There’s a moment of silence. Anton plays with your hand before putting it to his chest. His heart is beating like a drum.

“So I guess I’ll be seeing you around then?” you ask.

You chuckle against his chest. You don’t know why hearing him say it like that is so funny.

Anton had come a long way. He was a man whore at the beginning of this fateful day. He was titled a slut, albeit for a good cause, but he was a slut nonetheless.

But he’s had a change of heart. He thinks it’s because you’re such a pretty sleeper. Your normally furrowed eyebrows smoothed out, the tension you perpetually held across your body eased. One final gentle breath turned to a quiet snore as you laid out across his chest. You even let out little sighs as you sluggishly adjusted yourself on Anton’s body.

Anton realized while looking at you that this was the idyllic life Sohee had told him about. Everything he told Anton about making sure he was the one that was there for his girlfriend all made sense. You were in bed knowing that he was there, sleeping against him like you needed him. Whenever you would snuggle closer into him he found himself no longer thinking about other girls. The self-appointed mission became irrelevant. Everything was in his peripheral because he was looking straight at you. If he hadn’t proved himself to you, you wouldn’t have told him thank you so earnestly. He only wanted to keep looking at you as you sleep blissfully.

So in that moment he retired from the cause. He hung his metaphorical hat and was officially through with his journey of closing the orgasm gap on campus. As his dick finally got soft enough to slip out of you he set out on another mission; to become the man you deserved. He would be loyal, he wouldn’t exploit your inexperience for his selfish desires, and he wouldn’t subject you to wondering how he felt about you ever again. He decided that you would never declare him an asshole ever again, that he would be the charming and kind sweetheart that he knew he could be.

He looked out your window to the setting Sun and rubbed your back gently. Everything about you was so soft. You stirred only for a moment to cuddle further into him. He smiled to himself and then looked at your serene face. When he saw a small smile subconsciously etch across your face he smiled even bigger. He was careful not to wake you as he shifted you to the side of his body. You only whined and Anton found himself instinctually kissing your damp forehead. He can’t believe you tuckered yourself out so quickly. He even felt selfish for being so alert. Like he was the reason you fucked yourself to sleep on him, even if he was no more than a toy. He was used for all but five minutes and you were already deep in sleep to snore. 

Anton has been in this situation before. Some girls went to sleep after having sex, the post-orgasm bliss lulling them into a catnap. When this would happen he’d quietly show himself out. He would tidy up any mess he made and leave without a trace. On the rare occasion that they’d ask Anton where he went he would sheepishly say he didn’t want to invade their space. 

But the mere thought of leaving your side made Anton’s heartache. He was still lingering on the lines of your face, only breaking away to kiss your forehead again. He pressed his lips to your skin for more than a minute, he even pulled you closer while he did it. Your body was heavy from sleep but you were pliant in his arm, body curling up to his as he held you close. He let your body go back to its previous position and he was slow as he took the slimy latex off his dick. He held his breath as he pulled his arm out from under you and eased himself out of your bed.

Instead of leaving like previous-Anton would’ve done, he put his shirt and boxers back on and slid into bed with you like he belonged there. You instantly started cuddling with him like he was supposed to be here. Your body was warm, and when Anton pulled your covers over you both he got a waft of your smell. He was eventually lulled to sleep too, feeling so calm he couldn’t stop himself from pulling you closer and letting his eyes close. Anton took the heavy drowsiness across his body as a sign to let himself fall asleep.

Anton woke up in the middle of the night to you moving beside him. He opened his eyes slightly to see you getting up from the bed and heard the creak in the mattress from the shift in your body weight. He closed his eyes again when he felt your absence from the bed. 

He listened to you walking around your room. He heard the sound of a lamp turning on and could see the light bleed past his eyelids. After hearing you pace around he felt a dip in the edge of the mattress beside him where you were sitting. Anton could feel your eyes on him, it was the same concentrated look he received in the library. 

After a moment he let his eyes flutter open, and he caught you still looking at him intensely. 

The air between you two was tense. Neither of you reacted, you didn’t look away and neither did Anton. He couldn’t tell what you were thinking. You reached out and touched his clothed chest. He reached out and touched the bottom of a large shirt you slipped back on at some point.

“You didn’t cum, did you?” you asked.

Anton debated on lying. He’s done it before, and he has faked it completely a few times. You just seemed so sad when you asked the question, like you were disappointed. You held your breath and hesitated when you asked it, too. Anton couldn’t handle being the reason you were doing a nervous tick, or that you were having thoughts of inadequacy. 

“I didn’t.” Anton shifted on the bed when you turned away from him. He pulled on your shirt slightly to get you to look at him again. “but that doesn’t matter to me,” he assured.

He was telling the truth. He was more than satisfied being your living, breathing toy. He already feels a rush remembering how you looked above him. Your eyes were trained on the bend of your elbow for the most of it, but there were moments where you looked down at him and he was lucky enough to catch your eye. You were hot all over, your skin wet to the touch. He was amazed that you ended up getting so warm so fast, and that you were squeezing him so tight. He existed for your pleasure, to heighten it. He wanted to cater to you. Not finishing didn’t feel like a shortcoming because it wasn’t necessarily his goal. He was satisfied seeing your flushed skin and feeling your walls pulse around his dick as you let out weak whimpers.

He thinks he could cum without being touched if he replayed the sounds you made when you were on top of him enough times. When you thanked him; all he would need is for you to just say it one more time.

But you scoffed like you didn’t believe him. You looked away and Anton still felt the need to prove himself to you. He was still a sweetheart, but for you and you alone.

“I really don’t mind,” he says.

Anton watched you turn his body towards him but still avoid his gaze. He could feel your embarrassment, see the hesitation in the way you messed with the bottom hem of your shirt.

“We’ve done this twice,” you say.

Anton nods. He can’t stop himself from smiling that he’s gotten so lucky twice.

“I feel like at this point I’m using you a little bit,” you laugh dryly. You still mess with the bottom hem of your shirt as you speak, and each effort Anton makes to look at you is thwarted by your wandering eyes. “I just have you come over to get off.”

“I really don’t mind,” Anton says truthfully.

“I know you don’t,” you say.

Both you and Anton sat in silence. He let you look around, mess with your shirt and your arm and tap your feet on the ground. He let you go through the motions, biting his tongue so he wouldn’t lament how fine he was with your current situation. If anything, he wanted more of it. He wanted it to keep happening.

“I wanna try something,” you say. 

Anton is nodding before you can even finish. You finally meet his eye, tilting your head a little bit. Anton sees you try to emulate the saccharine tone you’ve seen in all the pornos. Instead of leaning close and asking you a question that will get you to squirm away he nods slowly, trying to goad you on.

“Can I try it on you?” you ask.

Anton is fully sitting up on your bed now. He feels the excitement before he knows exactly what you’re proposing. 

He reaches towards you but you’re standing up from your bed, right next to the mattress. You point to your chair, neatly pushed underneath your desk.

“Sit down in the chair,” Anton is sitting against your bed frame, eyes wide and lips parted. When he takes to long he sees you get nervous again, looking down before you motion to the chair. “please,” you add.

Anton is fast pulling himself out of the bed. He’s even faster to sit down on your chair even in just his boxers and shirt, looking up at you still standing next to your bed. His hands go down his thighs, ending at the knee before he goes to your armrests.

“Is this what you wanted?” he asks.

You don’t answer him. You completely submit speaking, instead you take slow steps towards him, your bare feet passing against your hardwood floor. Anton grips the armrests a little tighter.

He sees how slow and hesitant you are. He knows it would be easy to exploit that, to feed off your own anxiety. He could smirk up at you, or widen his legs mockingly. Or he could scoot to the back of the chair and look up to you with big worried eyes and ask if he’s doing this right.

But he’s retired from the cause. Even though he’s seen that look enough to know what you’re thinking about doing to him. He won’t make fun of you, or force you to vocalize them either. He has never wanted anything in return from girls but seeing you walk over to him in just a big shirt and underwear he feels the adrenaline pumping through his veins.

When you’re close enough that he has to look up he holds the armrest so desperately to stop himself from reaching towards you. 

Instead of crawling on top of him you press your legs against his knees. Anton is hesitant to spread them, so hesitant you have to put your hands on his knees and part them yourself. Anton feels his thighs stretch, and he instinctively goes to the edge of his seat.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

The question rages in his mind when he sees you slowly sink down to your knees. Anton follows your head as you go lower and lower, until you kneel and then both of your knees are pressed into your floor.

“Just wanna try something,” you answer quietly, staring between his legs. “I’ve never done it before.”

He wasn’t completely sure what to make of your demeanor. You were nervous, that he knew. Your hand was hesitant going over the plaid fabric of his boxers. You started off by pinching the fabric, then a heavy hand that turned light as you got closer and closer to where he was starting to ache.

He wanted to ask if you were scared of his dick. He would’ve replaced the word with it and then emphasize that you had only seen it in a dimly lit room before it was inside of you. You haven’t been face to face with ti before, and part of Anton wanted to remind you of that.

But he let himself fall privy to the calculating looks you were giving him before. Your eyes were large, not just from anxiety, but like you were watching him. Each move you made triggered a quick glance up towards him. When he took it upon himself to sigh lightly after your hand grazed over the bulge again, you gaze instantly shot up to his face.

He only moved when you did it first. He settled a little more into his seat and you were getting comfortable on your haunches. Your eyes kept flickering up towards him, and you ran your hand a little heavier over his bulge. His knuckles almost turned a ghostly pale from how tight he was holding the leather cushions of the armrests.

Anton knew the implication of you between his legs. He was fully expecting you to ride him in his chair, but your reaction to him not finishing was what set you on this current mission. You were bold enough to gauge for his reactions, driven by some sort of need to serve him how he’s served you. He let out another sigh and leaned a little more in the chair. He felt you scoot closer to his body on your knees, rocking the chair slightly with your movements. Anton dared to look down at you when he felt your other hand press into his inner thigh.

“You’re not just making those sounds for me, right?” you asked.

Anton shook his head looking at your pout. He already felt the sweat dotting his hairline.

“I just want you to know I like what you’re doing for me,” he said gently. He even reached a hand forward to cup your chin. “I’m happy with anything.”

“I know you are,” you said, almost mockingly. 

Anton can’t help himself. He felt himself throb at your determination, how you were a little bit upset at his indifference to not finishing. Anton knows the attitude is a product of you trying to get your nerves up, the same way you were rubbing your hands up and down his thighs. Anton’s leg tapped each time you got close to his crotch, and he hoped you were feeling up to, at the very least, looking at his dick. 

Despite barely being able to take him a few hours ago you already were rubbing your hands up and down his legs in an attempt to get your nerves up. 

Anton watched you hesitate, then bring your head to rest right where his boxers began on his thigh. Anton took a chance to scoot closer to the edge of his seat. The fabric of his boxers pressed a little tighter to his body. His bulge was more obvious now, and he saw you focus completely on him. 

Because of your trepidation, Anton is dedicated to seeming as nonthreatening as possible. He tries his best to not be wooed by your hesitation, despite the churn in his gut at the sight of you lifting your head from his thigh slightly.

“You’re so pretty,” he says gently.

Anton watched you shy away at the compliment. He twitched in his boxers when you smiled slightly, head still resting on his thigh. You peered up at him, he didn’t know if you were trying to look so flirtatious.

“Thank you,” you say. Your hand draws a delicate pattern on the soft skin of his inner thigh “I’m sure you tell everyone that, though.”

Anton shakes his head. Before he can tell you that he’s changed, your hand reaches through the flap of fabric through his boxers. Your soft hand wraps around his dick completely and tactfully pulls it out. Anton gasps and stiffens in his chair immediately seeing your hand wrapped around the base.

You freeze too. You look up at him and seem apologetic.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

Anton shakes his head. Nothing was wrong, but he was expecting a little more hesitancy. You didn’t waste any time giving him an experimental stroke that made him lift from his seat slightly. You were looking up at him, repeating the same motion just to see him do it again.

“Nothing’s wrong,” he answered.

He let out a quiet breath, widening his legs a little more. Instantly you were scooting closer, and Anton could feel himself getting pulled into the seat. His implication of a reputation made it so he didn’t receive much. He didn’t complain, he figured that asking girls for head or handjobs kind of took away from his grand mission. 

But you wanted to do this. You were alternating between his dick and his face, moving your hand in the same motion over and over again. Both of you watched precum bead at his tip, both of you watched your hand collect it on the way down. He didn’t know you knew how to tease him when your soft thumb massaged the sensitive underside. Anton had to look away from you learning about him. He leaned his head against the back of the office chair, letting his head tilt from side to side.

“Feels so good,” Anton whispered.

You nodded and moved your face closer. He moved his hands underneath his shirt quick to rest over his tensed and clammy stomach. Anton knew distracting his hands would stop him from greedily touching your head or hair, or holding your shoulder to keep you in place. He wants you to do everything you want to do to him on your own volition. 

Anton feels you try different grips on him. A little tighter, a little loose. You go to his tip again and haphazardly spread his precum over the sensitive skin. Anton couldn’t stop himself from twitching upwards into your hand. He knows he’s your test subject. He’s careful to not do anything suddenly, instead letting you get used to all of him. He feels you rest your check on his inner thigh again. 

He digs his fingers into his stomach when he looks down.

You’re so pretty, leaned against him watching your hand and his dick get harder. Anton wants to tell you the pleasure is almost painful, and having you so close hurts.

“How should I do it?” you ask.

Despite barely being able to take him a few hours ago, you ask the question without pausing once. Your eyes flick up to his and he feels his body warm with excitement. His face becomes especially warm, and he finds himself looking away while he tries to articulate his answer.

“Let me take off my boxers first,” he says.

Anton sits up in his chair and you both reach for his waistband at the same time. He pushes and you pull, and his hard dick goes through the fly of his boxers again before smacking against his shirt. He’s still hard, even more now because you’re clearing your throat and scraping your nails lightly against his legs.

You take him in your hand again. You look up and Anton nods encouragingly, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. You jerk him off with the perfect amount of force, a little slow to build the tension. Anton can’t tell if this is beginners luck or if his body is already accustomed to you. Still, he understands the weight of the situation. He clears his throat and puts his hands in the gap between his tailbone and the back of the chair.

“If you don’t like it, or can’t take it—”

“You think I can’t take it?” you interrupt.

Anton wants to whine when your hand abruptly stops. He pitifully moves in your chair again, his body following after the previous motions of your hand.

Quickly he’s shaking his head, nails digging into his palm.

“No,” Anton stammers, pushing his hips up so his dick goes through your fisted hand again. He’s grateful you’re so focused on him that you don’t see how pitiful he’s become. “I just want you to know that there’s no pressure here or anything.”

“I know,” you say. “you’re only here because I asked you to be.”

He doesn’t know if it’s because his mind is operating at half its regular speed, but he caught a hint of bitterness in your tone. But he also liked the implication that he will always be there when you call. You didn’t have to put on that act of asking for help to get him to come over. He needs to tell you that he’s a changed man now. He won’t leave your dorm and try to sleep with anyone else. This is it for him, he’s convinced.

Instead, he nods his head until you go back to only looking at his dick.

“Just take it slow,” Anton says quietly. 

“Okay,” you say quietly.

He’s hot all over. He can’t take his shirt off because he doesn’t want to seem too big. He’s already at a disadvantage, because your body is between his muscular legs and he must look bigger from down where you’re kneeled. His oversized shirt does help him seem smaller, the way he melts into the chair relinquishes his control. He’s sweating everywhere, but he will just have to bear it. 

When your warm breath fans his flushed dick he thinks he’s going to burst into flames. He doesn’t know if he looking down at you when you’re like this makes you nervous, but he can’t resist. He can’t look away when he sees your mouth get closer to his dick.

“Maybe just try licking it,” Anton quietly suggests.

He was already weak. When you ignored his request and instead took his entire tip into your warm mouth he nearly melted out of his seat. Your plump lips wrapped around him tight. You were so soft around him that it took his breath away. His hands went from behind his back to gripping the armrests of the chair.

“God,” he breathed out.

You readjusted yourself on your knees, pressing one of your warm hands to the inside of his thigh and the other to wrap around the root of his dick. Anton looked up when he felt your wet tongue run over his slit. You work further down and he extends his legs, trying to find some sense of stability. 

This was moving too fast. Anton prided himself in having endurance during moments like these. He could go for hours and for multiple rounds without breaking a sweat. He knew he was able to go all night, but the way you worked further down made that tension twist in his body. You pulled your head up, and he watched you wipe the spit on your lips with the back of your hand. 

“You can stop if you want,” Anton says weakly.

He failed at adding bass to his voice. He sat up slightly in the chair through the overwhelming sensitivity. He finally put a gentle hand on your shoulder, ready to push you back if you tried coming close again. His balls were already tight, he was getting even harder in your hands even without you moving. He thinks if you even touch him anywhere else he’d finish immediately. 

“Do you want me to stop?” you ask.

Your voice is hoarse and the words come through puffy lips. Anton doesn’t know how he’s able to see something so beautiful. His dick twitches in your hands and he has to fight himself to not lean back in the seat.

He should nod his head. Give some sort of excuse like he’s given other girls when he’s had to leave. But your eyes are still hungry, looking up at him like you’re gauging his reactions.

“I really want you to keep going,” he answers truthfully.

He was fully convinced he was going to nod his head. In his mind he was very dedicated to you not putting in any more work. Your lips were already swollen and drool seeped from the corner of your lips. He saw that your eyes were a little teary too, and your eyelashes were clumped together from it. 

But when he looked at you and felt your hand give his still pulsing dick a delicate pump, he couldn’t help himself. He was answering with a weak voice while readjusting himself in his seat.

“Please don’t stop,” he said.

You didn’t say another word before wrapping your lips around his tip again. He tilted his hips upwards into your mouth, and kept a hand on your shoulder. He didn’t pull or push but he did squeeze. Each time he felt the pressure building up he clasped his hand. The motion helped pull him from the edge. Each time he heard you make a noise from the back of your throat or put a warm hand on his thigh his grip pulsed. He could see his fingers digging into your shirt. He wanted to ask if he was hurting you but the only thing he could manage when he opened his mouth were broken moans and tiny cries.

You brought your head up to focus on his tip. He felt the wet pressure and your tongue swiping across the sensitive skin. Your hand was completely slick from all the spit and precum. There was no resistance as you worked your hand up and down his dick. 

Anton watched the flick in your wrist, how you changed the position of your arm to get a better angle. Anton didn’t know what to do with the view. You went further than before, looking up at him through watery eyes like you wanted approval. If he could vocalize properly he would’ve told you that you were doing so well. He’s never felt like this before or gotten close to the peak so fast. 

When you gag again his hand goes so tight on your shoulder you look up at him. Your eyes that focused solely on his happy trail or your hand on his thigh finally peaked upwards at him. The sight made Anton tilt his head back to focus on your ceiling. He could feel his throat tighten.

“I’m close,” he croaked.

He said it as a warning. If he kept squeezing your shoulder he was sure he’d hurt you. Anton gripped his dick at the base, eclipsing your hand. Instead of pulling you closer or holding onto your shoulder he tries to push, because his warning didn’t seem to get through to you. Despite the panic in his voice you continue with the same speed, sucking and licking and bobbing your head.

“Baby,” he whines. “I said I’m really close.”

You only continue. He gets quick peaks of your face but a majority of his view is the back of your head as you go through the motions even faster. You hummed something that caused a jolt to go through his body. Your hand that was gripping his knee goes between his legs. Anton feels your soft hand massage his balls, and a cry rips through his throat. 

His sound bounces off your walls. He prays that your neighbors are sleeping. He can’t hold anything back when he leans in the seat to get a better look at your face. You’re too beautiful. Cheeks hollowed, eyes bleary. Your eyebrows are pulled together too as you focus. You take quick peaks up towards him and Anton bites his lip so hard he thinks it might bleed. 

Anton feels you pull in against his push. You take him as far as you can. He can feel your throat tighten around his dick, and he pulses when you gag. Anton can feel even more mess, dribbling from your mouth and going down your chin. The mess makes your fingers wet, and he can feel it on his thigh too. 

You pull back completely and Anton feels relief in regaining the slightest bit of control. It all burns up when he looks down at you and sees you lick your lips.

Your eyes focus on him for a moment, the hunger making them seem completely black. He doesn’t realize he was holding his breath until your attention goes back to his dick. He was nearly shaking and his hand is still clutching your shoulder for dear life. But it doesn’t matter. It’s your hand that goes to his dick, collecting all the spit and precum to aid your movements.

The moment of composure is burnt up in seconds. He leans forward, grip becoming bruising on your shoulder. You don’t stop, your soft grip becoming tighter and tighter as you pick up the speed. The slick sounds fill his ears, your almost desperate stare as you look between him and his dick. 

“Baby please,” he begs.

“Are you close?” you ask.

Anton slouches towards you, head nodding pathetically as you refuse to  stop. The hair that’s not stuck to his forehead cascades down the sides of his face, narrowing his view. He gets tunnel vision, it’s just you and him and his dick throbbing uncontrollably because of you.

“Really close,” he whimpers. “I can’t hold it much longer.”

He really has changed. He’s never lacked as much control as he has in this moment. His entire body tightens, a thin layer of sweat appears over every inch of skin. Anton brings his head back down to look at you. He fully expected you to finally detach from him, to push yourself away by the hand you had gently clasped around his balls. He expected his hand over yours would cease your movements. 

But you didn’t pull back, you didn’t ease up in the slightest. Anton’s hand over yours didn’t stop yours from moving. You leaned in close to watch. You were looking between his dick and his face, and Anton felt his cheeks get hot. You bit your lip and Anton has to stop himself from putting a shaking leg around your body to bring you impossibly closer. You seemed to read his mind because you came in closer, wrapping your lips around his tip and suckling. 

Anton’s protest about not wanting to finish in your mouth only comes out in whimpers and groans. He was planning on pulling out of your mouth and cumming pitifully in his palm while repeating your name and telling you thank you. He ended up instead holding your shoulder the tightest he’s ever had while his balls tensed.

One final moan was punched out of his gut before the tension across his body finally snapped. Against everything he felt himself spill into your mouth in thick uncontrolled spurts. He could barely apologize through the broken whines and the shaking in his legs. Before he squeezed his eyes shut he watched you pause for a split second and your eyes go wide before continuing to work your hand faster. Anton couldn’t stop giving you more and more, until he was so drained he slouched even further.

He was breathing like he had run a mile. His entire body was stiff, his muscles cramping as he winced through all the sensations.

“I’m sorry,” Anton heaved as you looked at you. 

He was still catching his breath when he saw the pearly white remnants on the corner of your lips. His mouth was agape, he swallowed thickly and tried his best to not get so wound up again.

“I should’ve stopped you,” he says.

He melts down from the chair to sit on shaking legs beside you. He wipes away everything that dribbled past your lips, wiping it on his shirt.

“I didn’t wanna stop,” you say.

When you speak Anton sees that there’s not a trace of it in your mouth. He forces himself to believe that he shot blanks because reality would be too much for his poor, newly-devoted heart to take. He just smiles and brings your head close with a gentle hand to kiss your forehead. He kisses your temples next, then your cheeks, lines from one side of your chin until he lands a kiss right on your lips. 

He still feels twitchy when he pulls away and sees you looking at him.

“Did you enjoy it?” you ask.

“Yeah,” Anton smiles and nods. “did you?”

You nod, wiping your mouth with your own hand before looking down nervously. Anton feels the emotion too, his cheeks flushing again remembering how he was acting a few minutes prior. 

You stand up from beside him and Anton bends his neck to follow you. He watches you adjust your shirt and your shorts. 

Just like nothing happened you go back to fixing things around your room. Anton at some point swept some things from your desk. He tries to pick it up for you but you’re faster. He’s still impacted by his orgasm, he’s a little sluggish and has to lean on your chair for support when he gets back up. You zip around your room, not looking at him. He thinks about what to say. Before he would’ve teased you for avoiding eye contact and acting like he’s not in the room. Now, he’s antsy too, teetering around your room while you smooth out the sheets on your bed.

There’s silence. You continue smoothing out the same spot on your comforter, despite it being pressed flat without a single crease.

Anton takes it as his cue to leave. He looks for his pants on your floor, and is walking around your room like he could be kicked out any second.

“You know,” you start.

Anton stops and looks at you. He can only see your back from the way you’re turned, hands gently pressing into your comforter. 

“We could do something like this again,” you say, still looking at your sheets. “I enjoy our time together.”

Anton feels himself perk up. He has a shy smile that isn’t a lie and the hand that goes to the back of his head isn’t a facade.

“I enjoy our time together too,” he said. “I think we should actually spend more time together.”

You turn and lean your body against your bed. He doesn’t know why you look confused.

“Your other girls wouldn’t mind?” you ask.

Anton is shaking his head fast.

“No other girls,” he answers quickly.

“Oh. Okay,” you say. Your hands on your thighs are gentle, the same way they were around his dick. “well. I’ll call you, yeah?”

“Yeah, that’d be great,” Anton says. “I’ll be there. Whenever.” 

You nod again, and Anton melts from your smile. He watches you saunter across your room to the connecting bathroom.

“I’m gonna brush my teeth then go to bed,” you say.

You raise your eyebrows and Anton understands. He’s been delicately kicked out of places before. Anton grabs his pants and pulls them up his legs quick. He grabs his bag, everything that’s his and walks past you to your door. 

“I’ll see you in class,” he says with a smile.

“Yeah,” you say. “I’ll see you in class.”

Anton left your dorm before you went in the bathroom. He heard the gentle sound of the lock turning in place and couldn’t stop the smile from beaming across his face. He felt relieved and content, he didn’t mind what hour it was when he headed towards the exit.

Anton was not quiet going into his room. He was on cloud nine, and that made him a terrible roommate. He was practically levitating from your dorm to his. He didn’t know what time it was when he let the door close behind him. He barely remembered to turn the dead bolt, letting the lock click in place obnoxiously.

He turned on the lights to the entryway and unloaded his backpack onto the pegged rack by the front door. He walked through the room like he was drunk, a bleary smile and a grin ear to ear. He kicked off his shoes, the thick rubber soles making contact with the wooden floors.

He sauntered across the dimly lit space of his room. He made a beeline to Sohee’s lofted bed. 

“Sohee,” he whispered playfully.

When he finally made it to Sohee’s bed he stood there for a moment. The silence filled the air, Anton leaned close to the pile of covers that was his roommates body. He was still grinning ear to ear. 

“Sohee,” he said quietly.

The mess of hair peaking from the covers didn’t budge at all. Anton leaned a little forward, blowing air directly onto Sohee’s head. He watched his hairs part from the current, then he saw a small movement. He chased after the movement with his fingers, poking the comforter gently.

“Sohee,” he repeated. “wake up.”

His body moved underneath the covers. He heard a groan, then more shifting. He heard a body turning, then the covers slowly came down. Sohee was revealed, with his face scrunched together and his eyes squeezed shut. He blinked even from the tiny amount of light in the room, adjusting to Anton in front of him and being torn out of an REM cycle. 

He immediately went to propping himself on his elbow. He rubbed his other hand down his face, ran it through his hair that was sticking up every which way.

“What’s going on,” he grumbled. 

Sohee canvassed the area in the room with his eyebrows scrunched. One eye was still squeezed shut, the other was barely open. He saw Sohee wake up more and more as he took in the look on his face.

“Sohee,” Anton repeated one more time. 

His roommate stopped moving to focus on him. Like he was keeping a secret and was too shy to spit it out, Anton balanced his head on top of his hands that were propped on the wooden edge of the bed frame. When he took too long to answer Sohee eyes darted back and forth like he might’ve missed what was said. 

“What?” he asked.

Anton was quiet for just a moment. Both of Sohee’s eyes were open now, staring at Anton waiting for something.

“I’m in love,” Anton answered.

Anton closed his eyes while he let the words sink in. He was so happy to vocalize it, he was so happy that Sohee was the first one to know.

When Anton opened his eyes he saw that the drowsiness and the confusion drained from Sohee’s face. He was just staring at Anton with his eyes narrowed and lips in a tight line. He blinked a few times, and Anton felt his eyes flutter from how happy he was. Anton wasn’t affected by the lack of Sohee’s amusement. He continued to smile, he even felt the flush go across his cheeks at finally vocalizing his confession.

Sohee’s hand went to his forehead spanning from temple to temple to massage it gently. He did this for a minute. Anton let out a blissful sigh, then Sohee took his hand away from his head. He tilted his head to the side and squeezed his eyes shut.

“Anton, I don’t have time for this.”

Sohee went back down to his pillow. Before he could bring the covers back up to his hairline Anton stopped him.

“I’m serious,” he said quickly.

“I don’t care if you’re serious or not.” Sohee says. 

He tries looking at the clock on Anton’s desk but he can’t see it. He squints, then gives up all together. Anton is still staring at him with a big smile on his face.

“It’s too late for this,” Sohee grumbles

“You don’t understand,” Anton said, leaning closer.

Anton was sure Sohee didn’t understand. So much had happened between the time he ghosted Sohee in the library to chase you to your dorm and you falling asleep on his chest after you rode him. 

Anton wanted to tell Sohee all of this. Or at the very least the abridged version of this. Before Anton could vocalize the type of night he had—because he was standing in front of Sohee with his lips parted as he recounted everything—Sohee stuck up a hand to stop him.

“I really don’t want to hear it,” he says.

Anton listens to his roommate. 

“I’m really in love,” Anton says. “you wouldn’t believe it.”

“You’re a whore and she’s a freak. A match made in nymphomanic heaven,” Sohee mumbles.

Sohee turns over in his bed and pulls his covers up. Anton doesn’t pull back, instead he stays beside the wooden bed frame. 

“She said that we are going to hang out more,” Anton said wistfully.

Sohee stops adjusting in the bed. 

“Like as a couple, or like” Sohee looks up to the ceiling and moves his hands in a vague gesture. 

“As a couple, I hope.”

“Well,” Sohee turns back on the mattress to look at Anton. “does she know that?” he asks.

For the first time Anton is pulled out of his idyllic haze. Him wanting to see you again should’ve been sentiment enough. You said yourself that you wanted to see him again. But Anton never got the chance to actually tell you that he was retiring from the cause solely to cater to you. He was lost in the bliss of having you touch him and be in your space. 

Sohee seems to notice because he smiles and points to his face. 

“Maybe you’re the one who’s going to get played now,” Sohee says smiling.

Anton smacks Sohee’s hand out of his face.

“I never was playing anyone,” he says factually. “I was always very upfront with all the girls I saw.”

“Well, now you have to upfront with one more,” Sohee says factually. “probably more upfront than you’ve ever had to be.”

There’s silence between the two of them. Sohee laughs again when Anton finally retreats from his bed to get ready to lay down. He takes off his shirt that smells like you and takes off his pants, all while thinking about what his next steps should be. He hears his roommate laugh at his contemplation.

“I’ll be upfront with her tomorrow,” Anton says when he sits on the edge of his bed. “I think I’ll tell her at the dining hall.”

Sohee fully laughs at that. Anton looks up at him to watch him cover his face as he tries to contain his laughter. 

“Anton. You are such a romantic,” he laughs.

Anton lays down hearing Sohee’s laugh devolve into quiet chuckles. 

“I don’t even want to know what y’all were doing in her room,” Sohee laughs even harder, the delirium getting to him. “I don’t even wanna know a little bit.”

Anton shuffled behind Sohee through the study area of the library. Separate from the computer lab on the other side of the floor and pods for group work upstairs, it was the common silent area. The library was old and grandiose; the ceilings went up high and arched with windows so the natural light could shine through. 

The pair weaved through the long wooden tables where people sat sparsely, focusing on their work or pretending to do so. Anton saw people shopping on their laptops, switching attention from their phone propped on the screen and their work. He followed Sohee past the long tables, because his friend hated when it would get packed and people would sit by them. They went to the circular tables in the dusty abandoned corner of the library. They both took their seats, leaving one between them. There were two other seats, a guaranteed table to themselves unless the library got too packed. They both silently cleared off the table of the crumbs from snacks and rings of condensation from cold beverages.

Sohee sat down first. Anton took off his green bomber jacket and hung it on the back of his chair. He kept his gray zip-up hoodie on, remembering the draft that would come through each time someone opened the doors. 

“What are you working on?” he asked Sohee.

Sohee was already settled, putting on his wired headphones and opening his laptop. 

“Rewatching an old lecture,” he answered. Anton watched the blue light illuminate his friend’s face as he narrowed his eyes. He spoke quietly, chewing on his bottom lip as he focused to find what he was looking for. “What about you?”

Before Anton could answer, Sohee pressed play on the lecture. With the audio jack not fully in the socket and his volume all the way up, it played loudly in the only silent zone of the library. Sohee’s Organic Chemistry professor introduced herself to everyone, bringing all the attention to their secluded corner. The video was also going twice the speed, making her voice high-pitched. Anton ducked his head immediately. Sohee kept panicked eyes on his computer, plugging in the audio jack all the way and pausing the video at the same time. 

“Please don’t embarrass me,” Anton groaned.

“It was an accident!” Sohee said quietly.

Anton did a quick canvas of the area. Everyone in the library went back to focusing, a few were broken out of their stupor and left to loiter in a different spot on campus. Anton looked up to the stained glass windows to feign indifference, then went back down to the rest of the library.

Anton caught the eye of a group of girls sitting at a circular table they did not pass on the way there. They were all looking at him, alternating between pretending not to stare and talking amongst themselves in low voices. 

Sohee eventually caught their eyes, he was looking over the top of his computer before shrinking into his chair further.

Anton didn’t comfort his friend by telling them they didn’t care about the abrupt sound of his computer. Maybe it brought their eyes to the table—because Anton knew him and Sohee blended in and never grabbed attention—but Anton knew that he was the reason they did not look away. 

He recognized them quick. Their names were currently slipping him, but he knew their faces.

The girl that hid her face in her hands was the first one Anton met last semester. She sat in the back of the Romantic Literature class because she didn’t know anyone. Anton remembered seeing her annoyed face when she realized he took the innocuous spot in the back row that would never garner the attention of the teacher. He purposefully came to class early to secure the same spot again, and sheepishly asked her if she wanted to sit there when he caught her eye. The first break in class she leaned over and asked his name. He played with his pencil when he quietly said Anton, and made sure to smile back when she repeated his name to him. 

Over the course of a week the amount of seats separating them got smaller and smaller, until she sat beside him one day to ask for help on an assignment. Anton found out that she was a new pledge at a sorority on campus, and she was upset that her work study kept her from being in the same class as her sisters. She told him that she was cursed, because the early morning classes forced her to go back to an empty sorority house in the afternoon. She repeated that it was so lonely before she asked Anton if he had ever been in a sorority house before.

When it was just the two of them working at the large dinner table the girl told Anton she thought he was cute. She thanked him for the good seat because the professor never called on her and thanked him for giving up the answers to their assignments so easily. Anton was nodding his head without making eye contact but had her bent over the communal dinner table less than ten minutes later, looking at the Greek letters embroidered over the ass of her blue velour track pants. He ran his fingers over the stitching before he was pushing them down her legs. 

Anton proved to not judge a book by a cover so well that fateful early afternoon that she told her sorority sisters about him. Anton spent the next month playing his game with an entire sorority. He was passed between rooms of the house, coming in the midday for the top bunk and then after his night classes he was there for the bottom bunk. He was passed off at house dinners like a baton, pulled away to dark secluded corners during their socials. By the end of the month Anton could barely walk and had lipstick marks on the collars of almost all his shirts. 

He had played the same game with all of the girls. He came over under the pretense of helping with an assignment if they shared a class, or the girls would approach him poorly hiding their true intentions. Bumping into him while he had his head ducked walking to class, coming up to him in the dining hall when he was by himself. Each time Anton let himself get red in the face, fake hesitating before agreeing and pretending to be surprised when he was lead back to the same house. 

Anton saw the same manicured nails dragging against his skin, teasing him before they realized he was fully capable and lips that pressed into a straight line when they realized what their sorority sisters were saying was the truth. He was sure even if he was the topic of discussion a few of them stretched the truth. But Anton kept up appearances each time he left the sorority. He was covered head to toe, apologizing profusely if he ran into any of the girls in the house. Sometimes the girls walked him out on shaking legs, giving him a bye Anton in a saccharine tone, like he didn’t have a hand clamped over their mouth to muffle the volume in private. 

Even now they treated him like he was a shy spectacle, one of them waving to him playfully before the rest of them smirked. He knew the game. Anton looked around and waved to them before going further into his jacket to look flustered. 

Sohee was peering from the side of his computer to see what was happening. All of the girls were waving back before going back to work, giggling and talking lowly amongst themselves. When Anton felt like they were looking again he ducked his head, appearing shy and angling his back so they couldn’t see his smile.

He looked up at Sohee a moment later to see his friend looking at him in disgust. He shook his head before going back to his screen.

“You are a disgusting perverted freak,” he said.

Anton made a point to not tell Sohee about his conquests. His roommate was consistently the most horrified of his friends when hearing about his stories. Anton thinks it’s because he’s been going steady with the same girl since highschool and is permanently traumatized from the STD portion of Sex Education class he was forced to take in junior high. He tried telling Sohee that he always uses protection and he’s not fucking every single girl he meets. His friend never wanted to hear it, plugging his ears and shaking his head anytime he’d try to start.

When all the girls got up and left, Sohee casted one more glance towards the table. When he realized they were gone he pushed his headphones off his head, looking at Anton.

“Did you have sex with all of them?” Sohee asked quietly.

Anton shook his head. He wasn’t convincing enough because Sohee put his headphones back on and went back to his work.

Anton watched his friend go without saying a word for only a minute before he leaned in close again.

“You’re someone’s future husband, Anton.” Sohee typed on his computer, barely paying him any mind as Anton moved a seat closer. “I think you should really start acting like it.”

“Who says I’m not preparing for my future wife?” he asks. Sohee gives Anton a pointed look but he remains neutral. “God forbid I want to take care of every girl that comes across my path.”

Sohee scoffs, still watching the video. Anton lets it sit in the air for a minute. He swears he can feel the attention back on him from the table filled with the sorority girls. He leans across the empty chair between them to get closer to Sohee.

“Why are you scoffing?” he asks teasingly. “I have more experience than you.”

“If you call haphazardly slinging dick around campus experience then yeah. You got me there,” Sohee says.

Anton knows that his philosophy is lost on his friend. He could sit here all day and explain that he’s teaching girls on campus to not judge books by their covers, that he’s working hard to close the orgasm gap between men and women, and he’s preparing himself for his future girlfriend. He knows Sohee won’t understand because he thinks Anton is actually fucking every single girl he encounters, despite him saying that’s not the case. 

“I’m not about to debate hoe politics with you. If you wanna be a gigolo go ahead,” Sohee says.

Anton can barely respond as he still feels a piercing gaze from the table. He rubs the back of his neck, still giving Sohee a fake smile just because it pisses him off.

“I’m not a gigolo,” Anton clarifies, putting a hand on his chest. He splays his fingers over his heart. “I’m a sweetheart.”

“You’re a lascivious pest and sex deviant,” Sohee says.

Sohee’s deadpan gives Anton a perfect opening to laugh and look towards the stare he still feels. He veils his quick look around of the library as benevolence, he even messes with his ear to give him more of a reason to turn his head towards the presence. 

Anton stops in the middle of his investigation when he sees you. You’re sitting at the long table where the sorority girls had you previously covered up. You sat alone and in the middle. You stare right at Anton. It’s the most serious he’s ever seen you, eyebrows narrowed and your lips pulled to a slight frown. Anton has never seen you look so intense, he even looks behind him to double check he’s the one you’re looking at. When he realizes nothing’s behind him except rows of shelves and windows he knows the look is just for him. Your gaze is unfaltering, it almost feels like you’re looking right through him.

He’s shocked because he hasn’t seen you lately. Anton hasn’t seen you lately. Not in the context he used to. There hasn’t been partner work happening in your class. You haven’t talked to him because you haven’t had to. He has caught your eye, glaring and incessant like it is now. He’s sure you don’t even know how obvious your stare is, because he has looked towards you and you jerk your head away a beat too late. You do the same thing now. Anton makes eye contact with you and you look down at the wooden desk, trying to look inconspicuous while messing with your hands.

You don’t have the books you clutched close to your chest or the backpack you went nowhere without. Anton wasn’t sure how long you’ve been there, or why you have no work in front of you. You look like you just threw a sweater on, your hair covered by the hood you pulled tight over it. Anton thinks you resemble the mess in your room when he came over that day.  

Then after a moment he saw you abruptly stand up, causing your chair to slide loudly against the floor. You garner attention but you’re moving out of the room fast, stuffing your hands in your pockets while heading towards the exit.

“Do you want a snack?” Anton asks, pulling his jacket from the back of his seat and slipping his phone into his pocket. “I’ll go get us snacks.”

Anton thinks he hears Sohee say something but he’s focused on your back. Anton was nearly bumping into tables and people to try and follow you. The only way he was able to catch you was when you opened the large double doors, using your momentum and body weight to get them to open. 

He was able to catch you then, carding through the creaky doors as they came to a close. He hit his shoulder but was more concerned with reaching for you. He knew you couldn’t hear him behind you because you jumped slightly when Anton gently touched you. Your speed faltered, and he took it as his chance to pull you by the sleeve into the secluded area with all of the vending machines.

He knows he’s sick. He’s breathing a little heavier from the chase and you’re taking in breaths the same way it did in your room. He gets excited by the surprise on your face and the clear fact that you don’t know what to do next. Anton purposefully holds onto you in the secluded room until you look down as his hand. He takes it away quick.

He lets the silence hang heavy, until you start shifting from foot to foot. He sees you avoiding eye contact, but when he catches it again he tilts his head to the side to try and be eye-level with you.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he says gently.

He lets his eyebrows furrow in confusion and stuffs his hands into his pockets. He closes in on himself, slouching more and hanging his shoulders. He sees you part your lips. Anton makes himself look even sadder, pouting ever so slightly when you still say nothing.

“What are you doing here?” Anton asks.

You’re silent. Anton sees your hands stuffed into your pockets, he can tell that you’re picking at your fingers by the movement. 

“Are you mad at me?” he continues.

He knew you were upset to some degree. He has been in this situation before. Girls tended to catch feelings, annoyed by his lack of response after everything. Despite feeling like he wanted to continue playing with you in that moment he treated you the same way, slipping back into the innocent and oblivious act after you came all over his hand. He kissed you a few times and was adamant about receiving nothing from you. He slipped away after a few minutes of domestic bliss, using his alarm for his next class as an excuse. Right before he closed your door he saw you prop yourself up by your hands on your bed, legs hanging over the edge and your pants haphazardly pulled up half of the way.

You hadn’t talked to him since then. He had figured you were going to avoid him and he’d avoid you as part of his facade, of course. He’s grateful that you caught him in the perfect setting. He can’t believe you found him studying in a dusty library with only one friend. He was wearing his thick frames today too, in baggy clothes that made him seem small. He thinks his voice even cracked because he asked you so quietly if you were mad at him. He was dejected, he was pitiful and ready to beg for forgiveness. He came closer until you had to look up at him. He finally put his hand in your own pocket, squeezing tight even if it was stiff in his grasp.

“I didn’t know what to do,” he added.

He’s a gentle giant. Even if he can’t say that he’s sorry because he doesn’t feel bad for anything. He’s just someone who just wanted you to feel good. He didn’t know any better. He thought leaving your dorm after was the best choice. He’s not the asshole you claimed he was in class despite finding amusement in the way you act around him now. 

“You fingered me then just left,” you say.

Anton nods sympathetically. Your voice came out quieter than his.

“I just wanted you to feel good,” he says gently. He’s still holding your hand in the pocket of your sweater, and he’s gotten so close you’re forced to look up at him. “I didn’t want to overwhelm you.”

He’s not entirely sure if he’s telling the truth or not. He knows he could’ve kept going and that you wanted him to, but he thinks he was telling himself that he had already proved himself. He was sure you had enough to tell your other nerd friends about the experience. He was selfishly thinking in the moment that he should only go after nerds in hopes of evoking the same reactions that he got from you. 

But he realized that was in direct contention with his current philosophy of teaching girls that he is more than capable. He didn’t want to overindulge himself in you because he’s not sure if he’d ever be able to go back. Ever since you he hasn’t been with anyone. The memory of you squirming underneath him and avoiding eye contact while pitifully asking for more has plagued his mind; he hasn’t been in the correct mindset to be with another girl. 

Sohee talking about his highschool sweetheart crosses Anton’s mind. He has talked about how he doesn’t care about other girls or “proving himself” because he just wanted to be the man she wanted. Anton thinks about you looking up at him, silently begging for something you can’t bring yourself to articulate. You just start squeezing his hands back, trying to mimic that amount of force that he holds you with.

“I wouldn’t be overwhelmed,” you say.

He knows you would be. He knows that you know you would be. Your words are anything but convincing, like your vice grip on his hand is supposed to sway him in some way.

“I’m done with classes for the rest of the day,” you say. “I’m still in the same dorm.”

Before Anton can say he’s grateful you haven’t moved in the past week you detach your hand from his and start heading towards the exit. Anton is left in the room with the fluorescent vending machines before you pause right before leaving. You interrupt the flow of traffic for only a moment before Anton sees you turn around and walk towards him again. This time it’s you who comes in too close, forcing Anton to lean back.

“And I’m behind on coursework. So I need your help.”

You have never asked him for help on your assignments. If anything he’s seen you stay for office hours or ask the teacher assistant. Anton has never seen you ask for help so abruptly, and he doesn’t think he’s ever seen you in loungewear. He can’t give you a reply before you’re shuffling out of the library with all of the other students.

After you left Anton was quick to leave himself. He told Sohee something came up, to which his friend covered his ears and shook his head vigorously. Anton thought about telling Sohee he was going to double back—which is something he has never done before—but he didn’t have time to waste. Knowing that you were waiting for him put a pep in Anton’s step. He wasn’t under a time constraint, no classes or work study was getting in the way of your schedules. Despite this, Anton was speeding through campus. He even took a shortcut and went through the emergency staircase to get to you faster. 

He can’t believe he’s in the same situation with you again; he knocked the same and even waited in the entryway awkwardly before you beckoned him in the rest of the way. 

You tried to be more controlling of the space. Even before he made a move on you the first time you seemed unsure to have him in your dorm. Your bed was made now. All your books and papers were put away neatly, everything about your room screamed that you knew someone would be coming over. Instead of sitting at your desk you lean against your made bed, hands behind you and holding onto the edge of the mattress. 

Anton kicks off his shoes but stays by the closed door. He holds his backpack by one strap, teetering from side to side while looking around. 

“You don’t need help with any assignments?” he asks.

He’s curious how you know about all the unsaid rules of him coming over. You said you needed help with work in the library, you’re wearing clothes that are loose and easy to take off. The demeanor you try to give off is even reminiscent of all the other encounters he’s had with girls on campus. 

But Anton knows he has a role to play and will always do it. When you sheepishly shake your head he looks down, nodding slightly.

Anton puts his backpack on your chair, he takes off his bomber jacket to hang on the back of it. You don’t take your eyes off of him, he moves even slower across your room. He comes closer and closer to you. He sees you grip the edge of your mattress, leaning against it as much as you can while standing upright. When he could just reach out and touch you he stops, letting his eyes get big and worried.

“You’re sure?” he asks. 

You nod. Anton remembers that you didn’t speak last time. He had to pull words out of you by almost begging you for an answer. He likes this though, getting closer to you and seeing you panic. 

“You already did the discussion post and everything?” he continues.

You nod again. He remembers why he wanted to continue playing with you last time. Your eyes are already looking wet again, unblinking and wide. 

“Wow,” Anton drops his jaw slightly and gets closer to you. He can feel you tense up. You look up to him almost panicked, he takes up so much of you without even coming close to you yet. “You’re so smart,” he praises.

Anton didn’t even have to lay out a trap for you. You came to him when he was least expecting it, and you brought him to your room under the pretense of dong something. He couldn’t have prayed for a better outcome.

“You know I tutor people for extra cash, sometimes,” you say.

Anton stops in the middle of closing the distance. He sees that you’re only looking at his lips instead of his eyes. You speak quickly like you did the first time he was here, saying whatever comes to your mind to distract yourself. He can feel puffs of air from your words against his lips. He lets your lips move so close to his. He comes even closer because you try to ignore it.

“There’s a sorority that’s really nice to me sometimes. They gossip with me and tell me things. Sometimes.”

You repeating words tells Anton you don’t fully believe yourself. He knows it’s hard to see genuine kindness in the actions of girls that are pretty and popular and in Greek life. He’s sure there’s a part of you that sees their kindness as cunning malice. Still though, he smiles and tilts his head, a hand going to your waist. He can feel you jump and the warmth from your body bleeds through your clothes. 

“Yeah?” he asks.

He sees you nod absentmindedly, before your hand slowly goes over his on your hip. He can feel the slightest tremor in your hand before you hold onto him tight.

“How long have you been tutoring them?” he asks.

Anton doesn’t think you brought up him fucking the sorority you tutor to best him; he thinks you said it because you seem to be unfiltered, especially in moments of high tension. He was about to kiss you so you blurted out the first thing that came to your mind. You can’t help it, evident in the way you speak first and react to your words a beat later. His question was followed by your eyebrows raising and he realized in that moment you almost didn’t suspect him to put everything together so fast.

“Since the beginning of last semester,” you answer.

Anton immediately nods his head sympathetically. He knows you must’ve suffered, knowing what you’ve known about him for so long and not being able to do anything about it. He imagines you sitting at the communal dinner table in the sorority, eyes wide and jaw slack as one of the girls told you about him. He thinks about you thinking about him, having the visuals of what he would do to them. He doesn’t think they’d lie to you. They had no reason to perform for you like they did with their sorority sisters, to lie and make it seem like they were throwing the shy nerd a bone. They probably told you in great detail to serve as a motivational story, or to prove to you that they don’t judge introverted people like you as harshly anymore. They probably didn’t hold back because they saw you as something that was sexless. They probably explained in great detail because they thought—maybe subconsciously, maybe outwardly—that it would never happen to you.

When you duck your head after giving your answer Anton puts a finger underneath your chin. You give easily to the small amount of force, tilting your head up until you both make eye contact.

“It’s okay.” Anton coos.

He knows you must’ve had conflicting feelings about him. He can’t even be blame you for calling him an asshole; he hasn’t shown you how much of a sweetheart he truly is.

Anton goes from just one finger to a full hand holding your face. He brings you in fully, pressing his lips to yours. 

He’s unmoving at first, just to feel you guess on how to kiss him back. When your lips move awkwardly against his, he watches you close your eyes in a daze. You go through the motions, trying to employ human instinct or what you’ve seen in the movies. He smirks against your clueless lips before bringing a hand to close around the side of your face. He tilts your head up a little further and his hand on your hip wraps around your waist. He brings you closer, trying to suppress the smile from your inexperienced lips. 

He slows down waiting for you to catch along. But he can’t help himself; the moment you catch on he unzips your jacket just so you lose your tempo again. He pushes your jacket off of your shoulders and you let it fall right off, going to the ground in a heap. You’re wearing an oversized shirt but he can see your perked nipples through the shirt.

“Wow,” Anton whispers when he pulls away from your lips.

He puts too much attention on you, because you bring your arms together in an attempt to cover yourself up. What you do only pushes your chest together, making them come out even more. Anton doesn’t know why your missteps turn him on. You’re clumsy, you’re copying what girls told you to get in this situation with him. 

“Why are you smiling?” you ask.

Anton sees your swollen lips in a slight pout. They’re glossy from spit, and you’re still catching your breath from him kissing you earlier. He touches your hot cheek with his thumb, caressing your soft skin.

“I’m just so happy,” he answers.

Anton reaches his hand to the bottom of your shirt and lifts. You stick your arms towards the ceiling, and Anton pulls your shirt over your head. He revels in the quick sight of your chest exposed but your face covered by your shirt. He imagines how nervous you must be behind the fabric. Last time it was in the heat of the moment where you lifted your shirt up. Anton undresses you slowly before doing anything else. He wanted to play with you, and he wanted to take his time. He thinks he told Sohee to not wait up for him tonight. He’s grateful you’re diligent and have all your classes in the morning and you live alone.

He finally takes your shirt off and lets it fall to the ground. Your hands clasp at your sides, and he can see you hesitate before bringing a slow hand up to your chest. Anton is quick to put a gentle hand around your wrist.

“You don’t have to hide from me,” he says gently.

He thinks that he’ll never get enough of you. When he’s been with other girls he was chasing after the peak when they’d realize he was more than capable. He liked seeing their eyes get wide, how they’d hesitate and realize they were no longer throwing the nerd a bone. With you it was constant, you knew you were in over your head from the start. He wants to keep building on that until you reach a breaking point, he wants you to also get comfortable. He knows there has to be something lurking underneath your own facade, because you’ve been grinding on the thigh he pushed between your legs despite you trying to hide your chest from him. You even went as far to rest some of your body weight on his leg, and he swears he saw your other hand pushing at the waistband of your joggers. Anton pulls his leg away slightly just to feel your legs squeeze around his thigh to try and keep him in place.

“Can I, please?” he asks.

Anton doesn’t ask directly. He just lets his hands drag up your bare torso, ending at the underside of your breast. He knows you feel his warm fingers press into your ribcage slightly.

“You…you wanna touch my boobs?” you ask.

Anton’s eyebrows raise at your attempt to sound sultry. He wonders if the pretty girls in the sorority told you how to talk to him to try and command the room. Anton is almost amazed you managed to keep partial eye-contact while saying it, eyes focused on the tip of his nose. He’s bashful when he nods, like he’s been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to want. But you grab his wrists and chew on your lips at the same time, bringing both of his hands to your chest.

Anton reaches forward to cup your chest. His hand superimposes the skin, and he gropes you just to feel you spill between the cracks in his fingers. He kneads the skin and looks down at you looking down at his hands. He sees your body malleable to the force, leaning back and forth as he takes in more of you. He presses your tits flat to your chest, he runs his thumbs over your sensitive nipples. Everything he does illicits a reaction from you. He notices when he pinches your nipple your hand starts pushing at your waistband again, trying to take down your pants and underwear in one go.

Anton lets you. He even helps by taking away from your chest to pull your waistband down from the other side. 

You’re completely bare except for a pair of black ankle socks. You’re wearing nearly nothing while he’s fully clothed and you don’t even seem to notice it. Almost immediately you’re putting your weight back on Anton’s thigh, and you’re puckering your lips to awkwardly kiss him again. He can feel himself feeding off of how exposed you are while he is fully clothed. You get enough nerve to wrap your arms around his body, but he’s feeling like he could swallow you whole. He feels your bare chest press into his, your tits flattening against him when they meet the hard surface. You press a kiss to his chin instead of his lips because your eyes are closed. He’s never had so much fun in his life.

Anton pushes his tongue in your mouth and leans into you, trapping you between him and the mattress. His body weight pushes a whimper out of you, and it goes right into his mouth. He thinks you’re leaving a mark on his denim from how wet you are. He wonders if he could keep you like this, kissing you and letting you grind on him with no rhythm until you cum. He could get you off without taking off a piece of clothing. Maybe you would catch him in the cafeteria next time and get all hot in the face talking about how he left you all hot and bothered and naked. He thinks about how much he’d have to give you for you to continue chasing after him around campus.

You push your own tongue into his mouth, not enough but then too much. Anton can feel the wet muscle run over his teeth then his lips, then you’re pulling away to catch your breath. Anton has to grip the bed with one hand to keep you steady, and he can feel your hold on him tighten. You almost instantly retreat your face into his neck, he can hear your breathy moans right in his ear as your hips become more erratic. You’re making the same sounds you made when he fingered you. He knows you’re close, you’re about to cum all over his jeans without even seeing all of him.

“How do you want it?” he asks right into your ear. 

Anton has never been the type to verbally ask. Usually the girls would tell him what they wanted, or they’d silently fall into place like they’d done before. He asks you because he knows you’re not sure, and he asks because if he doesn’t get a specific answer he thinks he’d fuck you everywhere in this dorm. He’d make a mess of your tidy desk, put you on the counter next to your sink. He could even take you against the wall if you let him, or bent over your bed until tear marks stained your sheets. He needs your guidance because your uncertainty makes him harder in his pants and he thinks hearing your trembling voice as you try to boss him around is the last thing he needs.

The question was enough to pull you out of your trance. Your hips stopped moving in such a frenzy, your moans were replaced with ragged breathing. Anton hears you remember in real time where you were and he knows you can feel the bulge in his jeans against your thigh.

When you finally pull away from his shoulder he sees your wide eyes. Your face is glazed with a thin layer of sweat and glowing from euphoria. Anton can’t believe you seem so spent when he hasn’t broken a single sweat.

“How do you want it?” he asks again, voice gentle and unassuming.

He sees that the question registered the second time. You blink a few times, you stop putting so much of your weight on his leg. You look around your room and Anton doesn’t even know if you’re aware of all the possibilities. 

“On my bed,” you smooth your hand over your mattress like he doesn’t know where it is. “I want to be on top,” you add.

He feels heat across his cheeks at the thought of you being on top. When you hesitantly turn around to get on the bed he has to wipe away a smile with his hand. He goes to the button of his jeans while you crawl to the center of your mattress. Anton doesn’t know if you’re purposefully perched on your knees, but you incite something in him all the same. He’s quick unzipping his gray hoodie, flexing in his white undershirt before he takes that off too. He’s honored to have so much of your attention. You seem to be so lost in him you forgot to be insecure or to hide your exposed body. Anton shamelessly looks at your naked body as he pushes his pants down his legs, leaving him in just his boxers.

Anton feels like he’s been working out just for this. He almost feels bad, like he’s ruining everyone else for you. He knows that he looks good because you told him, that he smells good because you told him that too. Even if you know he’s been around it must feel like he’s here just for you. Your eyes eventually go down to his thighs and what’s covered in the middle. He can feel himself pulsing in his boxers at your mouth slightly agape. 

Still, Anton feels the need to keep up appearances. He crawls onto the bed timidly with sheepish smile like he’s afraid to take off his last garment. He just wants to be up close and touch you when you finally see the last part of him.

Anton lays on the bed right in front of you. Just like you said, he’s ready for you to put your knees on either side of his body and take what you’ve convinced yourself is yours. He still feels your eyes on his boxers, he props his up so he can lean on them. The sound of him moving across your creaky mattress makes you look at him in the face.

“Do you still want to do this?” he asks.

You nod your head. When your eyes wander back down to his crotch he moves again. 

“Yes,” you say, nodding your head again. “I do.”

Anton lightly gestures towards his boxers.

“Should I?” he asks. 

He lets the end of his sentence break off with uncertainty. Only then do you rise to the occasion, reaching your hands to the waistband. Anton helps with another pair of hands and lifts his hips. He pushes until his boxers are caught on his ankles. He has to bend his body to take it off the rest of the way, but can feel your eyes on his dick. It’s been heavy and leaking since he came into your room, he could feel the weight of it smacking against his lower abdomen after it was caught on his waistband. He even heard your weight shift so you could get a good look at it, and when he went back to being propped on his elbows you were shamelessly looking.

Just from your attention his dick twitches again. Anton uses his thumbs to pop his fingers, letting you get used to the sight. He loves that you can’t hide anything. He can see you nervously chew on your lip and shift your weight again as you settle on your haunches.

“We don’t have to, you know.” Anton assures.

“No, I wanna.” You point towards the bedside table beside his head and Anton follows your finger. “In the third drawer, there’s condoms,” you say.

Anton goes to the third drawer and opens it. He sees an opened box of condoms, a rose toy, and a dildo looking back at him. He pulls a condom from the ripped open packaging and brings it to rest on his chest.

“Are you seeing other people?” he asks.

“No,” you say while shaking your head. “I only took one out of the box because I was curious.”

He knows that you could’ve asked the same question back to him. He asked the question to be a tease, but you answered so honestly and quickly he almost feels embarrassed in return. He thinks about you touching the slimy latex just to see what it was like, or sliding it on your dildo before using it on yourself. There’s so much that Anton can do to you. His dick twitches against his stomach again and he can feel more precum seeping from his tip to cool on his stomach.

Before Anton can say anything else he feels your knees plant into the mattress on one side of his body. He feels the weight on his other side, and then he feels your hips rest on his. It’s a simple movement, but bold on your part. He wonders how long it took to work yourself up to this moment; have you been thinking about it since you saw him in the library? Since he left your dorm a week ago? He doesn’t know what to make of things, because you positioned yourself lower down his legs so you could both see his dick. He felt your hand wrap around him lightly, emulating what you’ve seen and heard. You hold his dick upright, and Anton can see the visual proof of how deep he’d be inside of you.

He falls to his back immediately, getting comfortable on your made bed. He hears you situate yourself while he stares at your ceiling. You make minor adjustments: changing the placement of your knees, moving further up his legs, finding out where to put your hands. Anton doesn’t stare because he knows you’d get nervous, instead thinking about those toys you kept in your drawer.

“You’re big,” you say.

Anton only nods against your pillow. He props himself back up when you stop moving, to see you inching further and further up. 

“It’s not too big, right?” he asks.

He’s about the same size as the artificial dick you keep right next to your rose toy. He didn’t see it have the veins or the ridges like his dick does, though. He’s sure it doesn’t get warm or twitches like he does, either. 

“Not too big,” you answer.

Anton grabs the condom off of his chest and props himself on his elbows again. He sees your eyes focus on the foil packet. He pretends like he’s going to open it but you take it from his hands eagerly, opening it up and taking out the slimy latex. Anton helps you by holding his dick upright, and lets out a sigh when you put the condom on to let you know it feels good. He pinches the tip of the condom to make sure it’s on snug, and lets go. You’re the one that keeps a hold on him, keeping him upright. He knows he’s heavy and pulsing in your hand. When you practice different grips on him he lets his head tilt back, he even bucks into your hand despite your weight resting on him.

“Feels good,” he sighs.

Anton feels your weight lift from him and is shocked to see you hover over his length. Almost instantly a hand is on your waist, stopping you from dropping down on him.

“Lemme prep you first,” he says.

You’re shaking your head and already dropping your hips onto him. Anton can feel his tip prod your entrance.

“Did it before you got here,” you say quickly. “I’m still wet too.”

He’s confused because he couldn’t have been more than ten minutes behind you. He left the library in a rush and took a shortcut. He can’t think of how fast you had to prep yourself for him, and that it was selfish for you to do it without him. He would’ve gladly used that dildo on you until you were ready for him. 

Anton is also not entirely sure he was supposed to know that you were masturbating before he showed up. You said it in a haste because you were dropping further onto him, and he could tell you were nervous. He kept a hand on your waist in an attempt to stabilize yourself. Your walls were closing around him over and over again. Anton expects you to pause or to say it’s too much, but you keep going, slowly but surely all the way down. You squeeze around him sporadically the whole time, but when he’s fully inside you don’t let go. Your breaths are just tiny gasps, turning into a big sigh when you reposition yourself on him. Anton sees your shoulder snag from relief, and he feels your walls relax around him before squeezing him again. He let out tiny sounds of his own, bringing in a gasp to match yours and letting out sharp breaths each time you squeezed around him. He couldn’t tell if your body was trying to keep his dick inside or push him out. He knew that he couldn’t move, because you had a vice grip around him and refused to move.

In this position he sometimes found himself engaging in dirty talk. Sometimes he would taunt, or let out pitiful questions if he wanted to keep the facade going. He found it hard to engage with you because you said nothing to him. You were almost talking to yourself, saying that something felt so good. You refused to keep eye contact with him too, letting your head hang and screwed your eyes shut. 

“Feels good, right?” Anton asked.

You just nodded your head as you continued to rock your hips. Anton kept a hand on your hips, holding your soft skin and guiding you to keep a rhythm.

Anton never took his eyes off of you. There was no reason to be mean to you, or to mock you. You did it all on your own, getting hot from the embarrassment of feeling it too much. He understands why you didn’t want him to finger you because you probably wouldn’t have been able to handle it. He watches you grind your pelvis against his, probably chasing after the stimulation of his dick moving inside of you. He doesn’t feel much from it. 

Still, he lulls his head to the side, lets a whimper or a groan slip from his lips. He has to feed into your ego now, he’ll chide you for your selfishness and lack of endurance later. He thinks that faking it is enough of a punishment, because you’ll come back to chase after the noises he made just so he can deprive you of them next time. He’ll tell you that you have to try harder than that, engage your thighs to properly ride him and actually look at him.

Right now, he lets you have your fun because he’s enjoying it too. In the way that you’re so easily satisfied he finds himself feeding off of it, knowing that he has all that you need. When he bites his lip it’s not to keep the sounds at bay but to stop himself from smiling at how destroyed you already are. 

You start grinding your hips the same way you were humping his leg, desperate and erratic. Anton’s hand on your waist is no match against you, so he goes back to propping his elbow up to watch you do your thing. Your hands go to his broad chest to hold yourself up. He feels your blunt nails digging into his skin from the pressure. He knows you’re close, because you’re babbling and saying incoherent things he can’t quite catch. Something about how you’re close, how it’s so deep, how it feels so good. Anton already knows all these things. If you opened your eyes you could see a fake pout and the faux understanding nod. Instead you’re invested in your own pleasure. 

Anton lets you ride it out. You can’t even vocalize that you’re cumming because you’ve never had an audience before. Just like the first time he dictates when your euphoria begins, and you affirm it by quickly nodding your head. It’s the only time Anton sees your hips slow to a normal pace, and start lifting your hips to try and get a deeper grind. Anton knows that you’re prolonging your pleasure the wrong way because you’re running from it, but he lets you. Even when you lift your hips too much and the pulsing causes his dick to push right out of your pussy, and he’s wet and hot against his stomach sheathed in the sticky latex. You don’t care, because you’ve never had to care about anyone else and collapse right on top of him. Your sweaty body is pressed against his dry torso, and you lean on him with so much weight that his propped up body collides with the mattress.

Anton’s dick is still angry and twitching against his stomach. He was wound up from watching you but he says nothing. He gently rubs your back, matches your breathing to try and bring you back to Earth. 

He thought he had lulled you to sleep, but suddenly he feels your head turn. Anton catches you kiss his cheek quickly, and you even keep eye contact with him when you speak. 

“Thanks Anton."

Neither of your jobs were fun. There was never any control in the amount of people that came in, no way of knowing when it’d be busy. There were Friday afternoons where there’s no business and Monday mornings when everyone was packed shoulder to shoulder. There were countless shoplifters that could never be picked up by the cameras due to the crowd and their ability to blend in and disappear. 

There was always something wrong with the building itself. The sterile white interior was to hide that last week they found a rat in the food court, and the month before that there was kid missing for the better half of an afternoon. There were several buckets around the mall, picking up water from leaks and wet floor signs that were perpetually propped up. 

Behind your register you spent all day handing gift receipts to customers. Over the years faces started to blend together and at this point in the day, someone only stuck out if they made a particularly terrible impression. If they asked about stock you didn’t have or if they needlessly gave you attitude they’d be on your mind for the rest of the day. At home doing dishes and randomly thinking about the tone of a strangers voice and getting so mad you have to leave to clear your head.

Your coffee always ended up becoming lukewarm because you constantly ended up working by yourself. You never had time to enjoy your coffee at the right temperature, and the corporate curated playlist became the worst type of white noise. Your customer service voice was wearing off, and standing behind the register with nowhere else to go was making you restless. Your knees nearly buckled during your last transaction, and you leaned all your weight against the table that the point of sale system rested on.

When the last customer left the store and people were browsing you finally had a moment to yourself. You had your wasted drink and your phone, tucked away beside the register in the place your manager chided you for. But she wasn’t here—she was never here—and the one thing that freed you from your customer service purgatory was stealing quick glances at your phone. Tiny moments of looking mindlessly at your notifications was what got you through the work day, and the act of defiance made you feel like you were in charge somehow. 

You steal one glance towards the swinging door leading to the back of house. Your shift lead and coworker were back there, one on their break and the other pretending like they were doing work. When you realized neither of them were coming out even if you were screaming for help you pull your phone from its hiding spot beside the register. You prop up your elbows and rest your head in your hands, trying to hide that you’re looking at your phone and not bending down to stretch your body. You reason that it’s only fair you look at your phone, that’s probably what the two of them were doing in the back anyways. No one was in line to buy something and this was the fourth Shawn Mendes song you’ve heard in the last hour. You deserved to scroll around on your apps for a moment.

The time was what caught your attention first. That rush made the worst half of your work day disappear, and your coworker was due to come back on the floor any minute. You had a text from your annoying roommate about something annoying you were going to ignore until you couldn’t anymore. A notification of a TikTok being sent to you, something about threads on Instagram. You kept scrolling, waiting for something else. 

For the past month that’s all that it felt like you were doing. Each time you looked at your phone you were waiting for a text message or a call. You wanted it to be from Anton, who used to work at the clothing store across from where you work. Your arrangement for your breaks was still so engraved in the back of your mind it had become a habit. 

While you stare at your old text conversations with him, you see the swinging door open. You shove your phone into the cubby hole the same time Minji comes out. You relax seeing her, the one person who cares less about this job than you do. There’s no reason to play into the employee-of-the-month persona when it’s just Minji. She’s still finishing the food she got on her break and adjusting her uniform while she comes to you.

You didn’t even know what was happening in the store as Minji stood beside the register. You just looked at her, doing a quick scan of the store before reaching over you to grab her watered down drink. She took one last sip of mainly ice and water before tossing it in the garbage.

“You can go on your break.” Minji says.

You pull your phone from its hiding spot just for Minji to put her phone in the exact same place. She swallows the last of her food just in time for two people to wander. Minji greets them, a superficial hello as you grab the rest of your things behind the register.

Wordlessly you traded off with her, signing out from the system so she could sign in. You slide past Minji and she goes to your spot, standing on the anti-fatigue mat your manager got in response to you two begging for a chair.

After that you moved the fastest you had all day to make it to the back of house. Exactly what you expected was waiting for you behind the swinging door. Your shift supervisor was on her phone, looking at you from the side before going back to the loud video playing on her phone. 

“Going on your break?” She asked.

There was a time when your shift supervisor was the hardest worker in the store. One step below the manager with none of the benefits, but she used to run the store diligently. Now she seemed to always be in the back on her phone, pretending to type something pertaining to business or ordering something else. Now she watches loud videos and was anal about time management, despite spending the majority of her day not helping on the floor.

But you’re not supposed to be focused on work. For the next thirty minutes you are free, nothing is tying you to work. You are trying to be in and out of the store fast, but your supervisor insists on having a conversation. When she pulls away from her phone completely you have to hold back a sigh, knowing you’re about to get a lecture on something unimportant. You were still pissed from when she took a customer’s side over yours last week, giving her a discount on her purchase even though she was in the wrong and rude. You wondered if she even remembered how the customer talked to you when she checked her watch quickly.

“Make sure you’re actually back in thirty minutes.” She says.

“Alright.” You say.

You don’t look at her anymore after you throw your jacket over your shoulder. From your bag you stuff your keys and wallet into your pockets, and you’re done. Your shift supervisor gets to sit in the back on her ass and get paid for it, but you can’t have a grace period with coming back from your break? 

This is the exact reason why you and Minji abuse the fact that no one else wants to work here. You both get to be the worst employees in your own ways. She gives attitude back to the customers and is late almost everyday. You take extra long breaks and have a problem getting off your phone. What matters is that you two are here for every shift, even if you don’t want to be, and you two have been here for a long time. Like this place is purgatory or something worse you can’t escape. So you say okay to your supervisor telling you to come back on time, even when you both know you’re not going to. At the very most she’ll chide you and say something slick about being here on time, and Minji will say something under her breath about being grateful you two are here at all.

“Enjoy your break.” Your shift supervisor says.

“Thanks.” 

You push the swinging door a little harder and clear out of the store a little faster. You don’t even look over your shoulder to tell Minji goodbye, and you don’t think twice about another unpredictable rush of people coming into the store. Minji is too focused on helping three customers at once to tease you about coming back on time. The best time to leave was when it was the busiest. If you were lucky by the time you came back the crowd would thin out. 

You slip out of the chaos, enjoying the peace you’re going to have for the next twenty-nine minutes. You’re able to block out the grating music and Minji yelling for the next person to come to the register.

If this was a month ago, Anton would’ve been in the food court. He would’ve been sitting at the table right next to the yellow wet floor sign to sit at a table facing your storefront. He would’ve had his messenger bag slung over one shoulder and resting in his lap, eating whatever he munched on from the food court while he waited for you. You left your work in such a rush like he would still be there, looking at his phone but paying attention to who was coming in and out. You looked to the left to see the store Anton used to work at, the constant food traffic was something he hated. People going in meant they were messing with the clothes in the display, unfolding them and leaving it for Anton and his coworkers to fix.

When you found yourself stuck too much in the routine of seeing Anton you look up. On the second floor the images of his face and body sporting a luxury brand knocks you out of whatever trance you end up in. Anton from the past would see you before you saw him, pushing his white chair out from under the table until it grated against the linoleum floor. You can still see him accidentally knocking over his plastic cup from Auntie Anne’s in his haste to follow you. Anton from the past would’ve cut through the endless chatter and walked against the foot traffic of everyone else to keep in time with you. But the Anton now models for Gucci and Louis Vuitton, and his pictures are hanging up on the second floor to advertise the brand.

Still though, you can’t help but think about him. You would always look past Anton fixing his jacket and slinging his messenger bag just to fix it again. You liked looking from side to side in fake contemplation, like you both didn’t know where you were heading to. 

Even if Anton isn’t here, you still do some of the same things. You turn on your heel the same way and head towards the exit against the foot traffic of everyone else. You look over your shoulder like he would be there, bobbing and weaving through the crowd to catch up to you. Sometimes you kept a distance other times you two would walk at the same pace, matching strides and everything. Without him there beside you, you imagined him still in the crowd, apologizing to everyone he was bumping into. You could see him vividly mouthing excuse me and sorry while you passed through without saying a word. He’d be moving sideways, trying to be as nimble as you were on your feet. He was too nice. If someone bumped into you, that was their fault. You were on your thirty minute break, everyone else was in your way. 

The crowd didn’t thin out until you made it out of the food court. By the time you made it to the kids play area it was sparse. just the few people coming in from the parking lot or leaving the mall entirely. All the children that were ditched at the indoor playground stared at you walking in such a rush. Their mothers were busy shopping and the toys stopped being entertaining a long time ago, you didn’t blame them. But you kept the same pace when you normally would’ve slowed down for Anton to catch up, trying to make it to your car to maximize on your free time.

You looked up to the upper floors of the mall, the elusive place that had better hours and better pay than the stores on the ground floor. Up there they got hour breaks and a bigger staff discount. They also dealt with a different and more refined clientele, while you and your coworkers dealt with prepubescent shoplifters and adults who acted like children. 

You looked even further up, until you made it to the glass ceiling where all the natural light came through. Moving up on the corporate ladder here meant being transferred to the higher end stores. But work doesn’t matter right now, you’re on your break.

You refused to slow down when you realized time was still ticking away. At this point, Anton would’ve started working up to a slow jog to close some of the distance. Another look over your shoulder and you would’ve seen he was closer, a hand over the strap of his bag and his other hand in his pocket. You zipped up your jacket. You could already feel the chill from the constant opening doors. 

When you made it to your car, you were still thinking about him. You had to stop yourself from crawling in the backseat from muscle memory, and you spent your time in the drivers seat thinking about him. You had a secluded place in the back of the employee parking lot because of him. Your supervisor asked about why you were parked in the back corner of the parking lot all the time. You couldn’t tell her that you were too busy fucking the boy from a few stores down everyday on your breaks so you lied. You didn’t know that saying you had a tendency to bump into other cars would lead to you being quarantined in the back corner. The word spread fast, because even after Anton left and you tried rejoining your coworkers cluster of cars they started avoiding your vehicle like the plagued. So you stayed in the corner and you continued to think about Anton and what you two would do around this time of day. 

Since Anton left there wasn’t anything that gave you that rush anymore. Knowing Anton was a couple strides behind you and he was closing in made it feel like you were young, no other worries beyond getting to your car as fast as possible. Getting closer and closer to your vacant car with the close-to-illegal tint blacking out all of your windows. That moment when it would just be you and him in the parking lot. Hearing his feet drag across the gravel in contrast to your light and quick steps. Not looking over your shoulder that one last time but knowing he was practically right there. Looking at his reflection in the window before you unlocked the back door. Crawling inside and closing the door behind you but leaving it unlocked just for him. That moment when you could see him but he couldn’t see you was always the best. 

heyyyy 

is your number still the same?

Everything else happened pretty quickly. Anton replied within the day and told you that he never left the city, he only traveled to each job. 

But there was no way you could tell Anton the truth initially. Despite your previous arrangement, talking about what you did as a side hustle now felt too vulgar, especially because you were convinced he no longer wanted to be associated with the life he lived working on the ground floor of the mall. But something about Anton was so inviting, you couldn’t stop yourself from telling him that you did streams on the side to try and make extra income. 

Anton surprised you after you told him. He asked if you needed help. Like you were coming to your workplace hookup and part time friend for help on your camgirl side quests. But Anton campaigned to help you, he was adamant that being a model made him a professional in terms of posing and lighting. Within the week you were sneaking Anton past your annoying roommate into your bedroom to help you take pictures and videos for your new Twitter account. 

He was great help. The money started coming in, you gained followers faster than you ever had. You were getting the money finally, and you just needed a little bit more money to finally get a place of your own. The thought of a collaboration came to mind, and when you brought the idea up to Anton he campaigned for himself again, instead of a popular creator you were mutuals with. 

You came around to the proposal quickly. The thought of working with someone you didn’t know already seemed crazy, but with Anton you could do it in the safety of your own apartment. So when he offered you agreed, and then you set time off for the weekend to film and asked your roommate politely if she could make herself scarce for a couple days. 

“What if we went somewhere else to film?” Anton asked the question while you were putting back on your clothes after another photoshoot. He stood with his back facing you as if he wasn’t taking pictures of your naked body minutes prior. “Just to be extra safe? I think your viewers would like that too.” He added.

You told Anton he made a good point and that night he texted you to pack your bags for the cold and he picked you up directly from work at the end of the week. 

The whole ride upstate Anton was adamant about going to a different location. He took his role as your director very seriously. A new location would interest your viewers, everything about it would bring people back. You two decided that a video would give you more money than a stream, and the longevity offered on posting to the platform was unbeatable. 

When you and Anton arrived at the ski lodge you tried your best to not be amazed. You stopped mid-conversation to look at the cabin through the dashboard in amazement. Anton was still staring at you for a moment, and then he followed yours through the falling snow. The cabin was beautiful and laid out in a long line of the other cabins down the road.

“How much was all of this?” You ask when he puts the car in park in the shoveled driveway. 

The thought of a private cabin in the snow and the cost was already piling on your never ending list of expenses. But Anton shook his head, even when he grabbed your bags from the backseat and let you lead the way to the cabin.

“The model money pays well.” Anton laughs to himself. You walk up the steps to the cabin and open the lockbox. “I came here for a photoshoot and they gave me a discount and everything.” He continues

When you open up the door your surprised again. You know that this is a resort, that it’s supposed to be a home away from home. But even with Anton turning on the light and coming in behind you to drop the bags by the door it’s peaceful. No loud roommate, no expenses, no work. There’s a peaceful stillness, even if you’re here under debauched pretenses. 

“I think.” You point towards the common area with the long gray couch and the television hidden away in the entertainment center. “I think here would be a good place for it.” You motion vaguely to the area in front of the head of the couch. Anton walks beside you  “We could set the tripod up there, ya know?” 

When you look to Anton he’s nodding his head, but then he points upstairs.

“We should look at the other rooms too.” With his messenger bag over his shoulder and your backpack on his back he starts walking towards the stairs. You take off your shoes and follow after him. ”Just in case.”

Up the stairs you see the other rooms. To the left from the landing there’s one bedroom, then right next to it is the other. Anton follows you into each one, letting you turn on the lights and walk around in each room. When you turn back you see him waiting in the doorway. He’s already seen the entire cabin, he lets you choose the bigger room and brings your things up before he even thinks about grabbing his own things. 

“Still prefer the couch I think.” Anton nods but still waits in the doorframe. He follows you like a shadow down the stairs, only creating distance when you sit down on the couch. His hesitation makes you pause. Your laptop is in front of you and so is the camera, and the tripod is already set up in front of you. “Once I’m done with everything up we can get started.” You say.

Anton is still off to the side from the couch, staring at you working. It feels like you’re at the mall again, instead of the food court it’s the wooden floors of the kitchen and your workplace is the living room.

You think about pressing further to see if Anton has gotten cold feet. Worse case scenario you can just have him film you, he’s done it before and you brought toys just in case. You shift on the couch and Anton finally comes closer. He sits on the furthest cushion of the couch and you prepare to hear the worst. Anton draws in a deep breath, and you push your laptop away.

“You’re not tired from the drive or anything?” Anton raises his shoulders and then motions outwards, like he’s trying to show you to let go of the burden. “Should we talk a little bit? Maybe get something to eat so we can clear our heads?”

You have to smile at Anton’s avoidance to look at you. The very first time you two met he was anything but assertive. Avoiding eye contact, delivering something for his manager and ending in a laugh when he realized how quiet he was being. He is better at holding eye contact now, but he still has to avert his eyes when he mentions why you two are here.

“Tryna take me out before we fuck, Anton?” You smile and Anton laughs too, breathy and exasperated before he smiles back. You motion towards your ready equipment. “My head is clear.”

The way Anton’s hands grip his thighs tells you he knows you’re lying. But you two haven’t caught up in forever, and you know he doesn’t want to be presumptuous. You cut him some slack, taking a deep breath of your own and crossing your legs on top of the bed.

“We should probably set some ground rules beforehand, though.”

Anton sits up on the couch and nods.

“I’m going to blur out our faces once we are done filming and we shouldn’t say eachother’s names.”

“What about pet names?”

Flashbacks to the sweaty backseat of your car and Anton moaning that you’re his baby into your ear makes you nod your head. It also makes you avoid eye contact, clearing your throat as you try to remember the other rules you wanted to set.

“I’ll ask before I do anything.” Anton looks from his lap to your face. He’s sincere, lips pulled to a tight line as he nods his head. “It’s your video and you’re in charge.” He says.

You knew Anton was different. When you became a camgirl you were exposed to an entirely different type of men. You saw the things they would say in your streams and on your posts, dirty things that had you wondering what they looked like on the other side of the screen. If you dressed pretty for a video they’d only tell you that it was nice like they knew it’d be coming off later. A setup for a terrible joke that you’d have to fake laugh at. He’s been eying you since he picked you up from work; not like he was tearing you apart but like he was trying to figure you out. No one has tried to figure you out since you started chose your profession. 

You would’ve never guessed that Anton was so adamant about having you. Not in the way the other men wanted—he didn’t take you out to a disgusting bar hoping to score by paying the drink tab—but he brought you to a fancy cabin in the snowy hills and offered to take you to a fancy restaurant down the road that you’ve never been to before. He was treating this like a couple vacation. That seemed to be the way Anton wanted to have you. His pseudo-girlfriend, sitting across from him on a couch while you set up your camcorder to film you two having sex.

“Is your manager still an asshole?” He asked.

“Yeah. All she does is play on her phone in the back of house.” You answer.

What you really want to ask is why he hasn’t fucked you yet. 

Like the worlds longest game of chicken, Anton has not made a single move on you. You two crossed over that line a long time ago, sometime between you pulling him on top of you during your lunch breaks. You two already talked about how awful your current managers and his former coworkers were, and he knew exactly how you liked to be touched. There was no reason to play this game, it could even be argued that this was all one big distraction from the task at hand.  

You weren’t ashamed to admit that at this point in your life you had been around. Even if you were faceless in your videos and your streams that still counted as something. You were sure that Anton needed someone to match his outward demeanor. A shy, sweet girl, maybe he could find a model during one of his gigs. But he seemed persistent about you and getting to know you all over again. His doting wouldn’t stop you from making money, you knew he knew that. Sometimes it seemed like he enjoyed your resistance to his courting, that his shy chivalry didn’t have an affect on you. 

Sitting across from him on the couch you still believed it. You were waiting for the moment Anton would start showing his true colors, being a little more like the other people you entertained. You wanted to call him a lover boy and pull at his beanie like you did when you both worked at the mall. You also wanted to tell him that he was doing way too much for you, that being here as his human dildo and photographer was more than enough. You still didn’t know how to possibly thank him for getting this secluded cabin away from your annoying roommate without even having to ask him. 

No one tells you how cool girls who stream have to be. Men could be in this line of profession and do whatever they want. They can have no tact and still get laid just as easy. When you’re a girl who does what you do, you have to be indifferent. You have to treat everything like it doesn’t matter and you care less than you do. But you also have to be an angel, permanently with your customer service voice when you stream or interact with people over Twitter. You have to deny the sweet boys advances and lament that you’re too cool for them, even if you know nothing about them. 

You also have to pretend like you don’t care that Anton hasn’t touched you since he started helping you with your side hustle. You have to pretend like you’re not so depraved by the thought of him and him alone that you start equating everything he does for you to sex. When he picked you up from work today that was sex. Him opening the car door for you and carrying your bags was also sex, and the way he let you take the biggest room was sex too. You had become so desperate in such a short amount of time that you had set up a system, all while dropping subtle hints you were too busy for a relationship.

You considered for awhile that Anton was seeing other people too. He definitely had to have a roster of his own, pretty models who liked his soft voice and gentle demeanor. You told yourself he was in a long term relationship that you didn’t know about and he was just looking to you for some fun, or helping out a friend. You also considered that he got his first model paycheck and needed a pretty thing to throw his extra money at. 

You never asked Anton anything to confirm or deny your suspicions. You were too busy trying to ignore the fact that he hadn’t even touched you before you were searching up his ad campaigns in your free time. No one warns you about how cool you have to be. Treating everyone like another body is all fun and games until the body is young and interesting and kind and funny and hot and familiar and—

“I’m glad we’re here together.” Anton said.

“Me too.”

He closes a little bit of the distance on the couch, coming closer until only a cushion separates the two of you. You think to yourself again why he hasn’t fucked you yet. You would’ve settled for a quickie in the bathroom, or in the parking lot when he picked you up for old time’s sake. You would’ve settled for something as juvenile as grinding and heavy petting, anything would’ve mulled you over. You just needed your fun, that’s what you were looking for and what you were being deprived of because he was too busy treating you like his girlfriend.

Seeing how nonchalant Anton had suddenly become made you even more pent up. Was there something you didn’t know about him, was there something he was hiding? The more you thought about him, the more you realized you knew nothing about him. Just that he used to work a few stores down from you, and he modeled now and you were both pulled from your schedules to be here today. 

Everything he did made you cling to his every move. When he moved even closer to you the camcorder was on the tripod now, and you shut your laptop and put it on the ground to move it out of the way.  

The two of you are just sitting in silence, side by side. Even though neither of you have a time constraint, it feels like you’re running out of time. You should be pulling him on top of you, the longer you took the more footage you’d have to edit out.

“Are you usually like this?” Anton asks the question even though he knows the answer. He’s been recording and taking pictures of you for the better half of the month, and he knows that you’re never scared to film. But now you’re hesitant, it’s Anton who has to take the first step to put a hand on your thigh.

“I’ve never had to wait this long.” You move back to the corner of the couch so you’re propped against the armrest and the back of the couch. Anton immediately follows after you, turning on the couch to face you completely. When Anton covers up your body too much you put a hand on his shoulder, keeping the smallest distance between you two. But his hand moved to cup your cheek, and he’s grabbing at your thigh. “Why are you making me wait for so long?” You ask.

Anton pulls at you again, and he drags you from the armrest of the couch until you’re completely on your back.

“I wanted to treat you nice.” Anton’s hand guides your legs to wrap around his waist. 

“You do treat me nice.” You say immediately. You pull Anton closer by a hand on his shoulder.

“But I also didn’t want you to think I was just around for sex.” Anton looks to the camcorder you propped up in the corner of the living room. The red dot blinks back at him, bright and a stark difference from the warm lighting of the lamp on the tiny table beside the couch. “Will this be in the video though?” 

You turn Anton’s head to look back at you. 

“Just pretend it’s not even there.” You say quickly. “I’ll edit it all out, don’t even worry about it.”

Anton smiles at you, and before you know it he has you flipped over on top of him. He guides you to straddle him completely, and then he’s pulling at the bottom of your shirt. He helps you push it off your body, and he balls up the fabric to throw it somewhere else in the room. 

Even though you and Anton had gone all the way, you have never been put on such a display for him. Despite him recording you in various states of undress for your side hustle, there’s something different about you doing this just for him. Even if your camera records everything, you’re undressed just for Anton, and he’s looking up to you and gripping your chest like it’s the first time he’s ever seen you.

You don’t rush Anton’s hands. You let him be greedy and you let him take his time. You watch how you fit into the palm of his hand, how he wraps around you so easily. 

Anton is holding onto you and then he moves so fast it almost makes your head spin. In seconds his chest is pressed to your front, and an arm behind him is keeping him propped up. He presses his lips to the valley of your chest. A gentle kiss turns into the feeling of Anton sucking at your skin. Your lips part and a tiny gasp slips out, Anton keeps sucking and you wrap a hand in his hair to keep him there.

He pulls away, and you can already tell the patch of skin is going to be ugly tomorrow. Anton is unaffected, instead looking up at you. His lips are still glistening with spit when he pulls you closer.

“Do you think I’ll still be a good fuck?” He asked.

As embarrassing as it was to admit, you knew he would be. Even when you tried your best to not give him all the credit, reasoning with yourself that his height would make him a good fuck on technicality, you knew there was something more to it. Anton had the tendency to be a gentleman, but a specific brand of chivalry that seemed to be an innate part of who he was. He held the door open for everyone without a second thought and he always waited for you to ask for help even if you were visibly struggling. He always offered to pay for anything you laid your eyes on. He knew how to throw his weight around and show off his strength in a way that wasn’t intimidating, but had a way of paying such intimate attention to everyone it made you feel like there was something more between you two. He is attentive, he is kind, he is hot, he is tall, he is strong, and you think about him all the time—of course you knew he’d be a good fuck. 

Anton exhibited his strength again when you felt his hands scratch against your scalp, rough and demanding. As some sort of reprieve from the intensity you tried bringing your body closer to his. He was one step ahead of you—like he always was—and pulled you by your hair. You felt the pinprick sensation on your scalp and the tug made more of your neck and chest exposed to him. You could feel his eyes burn a hole the same place on your chest where there’d be a mark in the morning.

“How many people have you fucked?” Anton asked, eyes still on the angry splotch on your chest. “Since we stopped seeing eachother?” 

He licked his lips and leaned his head towards the same spot before flickering his eyes up to you. The position Anton had you in currently was compromising and he showed no signs of letting go. By the marks on your chest and the numbness of your lips you could already tell that Anton had some sort of problem when it came to possession. He was clearly the jealous type too, evident in the way the word fucked fell from his lips. Like he had to gag the word out, like the simple thought of someone else touching you like this made him want to vomit. 

The way Anton spoke made you think if you told him the truth of how many people you’ve seen there’d be nothing left of you by the time he was done. So you shook your head against the grip he has on your hair, trying to will the bass back to your voice.

“I don’t think you wanna know.” You say.

Your words hitch at the end when his hand palms your chest. Anton’s hands are soft despite the sheer size, but the way he pinches your hardened nipple is purposefully rough. Your sensitive skin is rolled between his middle finger and thumb, before he pulls your tit towards him. You whine from the pain and Anton looks at you eyes narrowed to let you know you gave him the wrong answer. 

The answer to his question is much less entertaining, you couldn’t imagine telling Anton about all of the people who you entertain in your chats on your streams or the people that message you on Twitter. You also couldn’t imagine telling Anton that this was a slow week for you. 

You finally casted your eyes down to Anton the same time he brought your chest back to his mouth. It was entirely too easy to hold you in the palm of his hand, to move you like you weighed nothing. You felt the absence of autonomy and it frightened you almost as much as it made you want to grind your hips on him again. The restriction didn’t stop you from moaning out when you felt Anton’s teeth graze your nipple, or whimpering when he brought his other hand to harshly pinch the other side. 

You already feel an impeding orgasm just from how rough he’s being with you, you can feel your walls seize around nothing as you cause more of a mess on his lap. The feeling churning in your stomach almost made you sick as you looked down at Anton, tears dotting your waterline as it all became too much. He looked up from your chest to see your deep pout and wet eyes. Instead of cooing at you affectionately and asking what he could do to fix it he only laughed at you. With your chest in his mouth and his lips sucking on your skin he laughed. The vibrations made you jump and twist your hand around in his grip, desperately looking for his wrist to push your nails into.

“Were you thinking about me when you were with other people?” He asked. “Thinking about your boyfriend while you were playing girlfriend with other guys?”

You want to tell Anton that he is not your boyfriend and you don’t only entertain men. But once again, the truth seems to be suspended in Anton’s presence. So you nod your head, looking for some sort of reprieve from all the pressure. The fact that you look down at a fully clothed Anton while you’re getting more and more undressed is too much. Your bra came off a long time ago, and when you can get  out of Anton’s greedy grip you try to push down at your waistband. You try to press your chest against his to kill two birds with one stone, but his hand that moved from your hair to your shoulder keeps you in place.

“Aht aht.” You could hear the mocking tone in his voice, your eyes refused to let you look down at the smirk that probably played on his lips. Your body unsuccessfully tried closing itself against Anton’s again, just to have his other hand tug on your hair again. “Don’t be embarrassed.” He coos.

Anton prevents you from pressing your body against his. You feel his eyes rake up and down your figure, again and again and you feel dizzy. You clench around nothing again and you whine, not stopping yourself from shaking your head.

“What’s wrong?” He asks. 

Anton hand released your hair a while ago but you keep it in the same place. You can’t form a thought but the way Anton looks at you tells you he already knows. Still he tilts his head to the side. He gives you the chance to answer, the same way a predator lets it’s prey run away for the sake of the chase.

“Fuck me please.” You say.

When you appear to be the most hopeless, Anton goes for the kill. His hands releasing you completely makes you freeze, like you weren’t fighting against his grasp moments prior. He looks at you looking at him, and then his hands go to resting behind his head.

“Do your thing.” He says.

You reach for the buttons on his pants way too fast. You stand on shaking legs and knees to undo it with hasty hands, completely opposite of Anton’s demeanor. His hands are lax behind him, barely holding himself up while you push his pants down his leg. Your pants are caught like a constricting belt on your waist, the material on your leg rides up more and more with each move you make. You’re unbothered though, more concerned with getting Anton undressed before your own comfort. 

The only way Anton moves is to reach into his back pocket as you push his pants down. He grabs his wallet, setting it on the table beside the couch as you continue pushing the denim down. Anton finally helps by lifting his waist off the couch, his fingers pushing his pants down the rest of the way. You follow suit, finally taking your pants off and letting it join the pile of clothes.

When Anton moved to lean against the back of the couch you went to straddle him again, completely naked while he still kept his shirt on. His hands were underneath your ass, kneading the skin harsher than he ever did before. He lifts you up with ease, and brings you back down until your clit bumps against his dick. There’s already a tiny dark stain blossoming at the bottom of Anton’s shirt from the precum leaking out from his tip. You start pulling at the bottom of his shirt, pulling it over his head so quickly it ruffles his hair.

“We never got to do this in your car.” Anton whispers it to you so low that you’re not even sure the camera would be able to pick it up. You’re becoming less and less aware of the camera recording you both, if you cared you would know that this was a terrible angle and it was barely picking up what was happening between the two of you. “Feels like the first time.” He laughs.

“It kinda is.” You look down to his lap, and you work the slimy latex of the condom he put in your hand over his dick. You never got the chance to put the condom on Anton, so you have your fun with him. You’re able to draw out a hiss from Anton and make him buck into your hand, and you’re able to make him lean his head back until he’s melting into the couch. “We get to take our time.”

Anton leans further into the couch and he’s nodding his head helplessly. He’s so different from just a few moments before when he was grabbing you roughly and leaving marks on your skin. 

Like you two are desperately trying to make up for lost time you go through everything. You two are oscillating between being dominant and submissive, so quickly it’s almost confusing you both. Something tells you that you should be the dominant one tonight. That’s what your viewers are used to seeing, and technically you are the one on top. But you are at this place because of Anton, he’s the one that called you his girlfriend and meant it, and he was the one that was silently waiting for you to do what he wanted next. He was hard to figure out. He let you continue to jerk him off, letting out tiny sighs as your hand became slick from the lubricated latex.

You look down at Anton just to find that he’s already looking up at you. His eyes keep on flickering down to the mark on your chest, and for a second you think he’s going to lean forward and leave another.

“Can I touch you?” He asks the question while his hands continue to knead your ass. 

You nod anyways, and instantly one of his hands is wrapping around your waist and the other is going to your clit. The sight of Anton’s hand superimposing you is intoxicating. The way he knows to apply just the right amount of pressure behind his hands makes you lose the pace you set with your own. He’s too attentive for his own good you’ve decided. When he lifts his hand up quickly to lick the tips of his fingers before going back down you’ve decided he’s dangerous. He makes you pitch forward, and when he presses a little harder you let go of his dick completely to hold the couch on either side of his head for dear life. When Anton speeds his fingers up your huffing in the crook of his neck.

“I always wanted to do this.” Anton whispers directly into your ear before kissing the shell. When you open. your mouth to reply he applies more force, causing only a strangled whimper to escape your lips. “You have no idea.”

All you could do was nod your head. You felt lost, out of breath as Anton continued working his finger on your sensitive bud. He didn’t stop even when your hand went to his wrist to try and stop his movement but he’s stronger than you. He just looks up at you and bites his lip, smirking when you struggle to keep eye contact.

“Does it feel good?” Anton laughs when he sees you can’t speak. “So good, right?”

You start reaching your hand down to grab his dick, desperately trying to convey what you need physically. 

You’re grateful he gives in without you having to beg for it, because Anton finally takes his hand away from your clit to grab his dick instead. His other hand lifts you from his lap slightly, lining up at your entrance. His fat tip prods against you, and the way you already feel the burn in your legs. You were a seasoned professional, but with Anton looking up at you like you were the cutest thing in the world left you second guessing yourself.

“You gonna ride me?” Anton leans back on the couch and takes you with him, and you answer him by sinking down on him. 

You sigh when you feel him push into you slowly, and when it’s down to the hilt you pull in a sharp breath. You can feel yourself pulsing around him already, and you tilt your head back when Anton moves underneath you.

“Is this for your viewers or for me?” You twist your head to the blinking red light, reminding you that you still are recording every single thing taking place. Anton follows your gaze over your shoulder, bringing you close by a hold on the back of your neck. “I’m your biggest fan, you know.” 

You realize there’s no point in recording anymore, because Anton whispers everything into your ear and your body is blocking the view. The only thing the camera picks up is the wet sound of Anton bringing you down and down again on his dick. You don’t put on a show like you used to when it was just you and your toys, this is the real thing. Anton is living and breathing and warm, taking up all of you and getting you to take all of him again and again.

“I watched everything, by the way.” Anton keeps his hand wrapped around your waist, moving you back and forth on him. “You sound so different now, though.”

“No I don’t.” 

You start moving your hips the same way Anton guides you, doing anything you can to take back control. He responds by changing the pace, and then bringing your chest close to his mouth again. Right next to the mark he already left he leaves another, that’s angry and even bigger than the one before. 

“Yes you do.” It’s pitiful that you squeeze around Anton at the bass in his voice. He’s sincere, and then you’re on your back with Anton looming over you. “I know the sounds you make on your little streams are fake, but you’re not playing it up for me at all.”

The new position lets Anton dig deeper into you, and it lets him go faster and harder too. You’re on display for the camera now , and you’re reaching behind you to find stability in the armrest. Your sounds are unfiltered, slipping through your parted lips. You’re loud and wrecked, and Anton is right. You’ve never made sounds without thinking about them first. Nothing about this is calculated, down to the ferine way Anton is fucking you. He’s crashing his lips onto yours and you’re moaning into his mouth, just when you think you can handle it one of his hands pushes on the back of your thigh.

“See?” Anton is struggling too, his words getting pushed out with each thrust. He looks down between your two bodies where you meet. “You’re never this loud for your fake boyfriends.”

“Baby.” You whimper and he looks to you. The light from the lamp catches the sweat beading at his forehead and the flush on his cheeks. “I won’t be able to use this footage if you keep talking like that.” 

Instead of pulling back, Anton smirks again. He speeds up, making your chest move and making you lose your breath again. He holds onto you tight and brings his body closer to yours, strong and solid over you.

“We’ll just have to film again then.” You scratch his back and you can’t even verbalize that you’re close. Anton’s sweaty forehead is pressed to your chest, keeping you glued together. “I got plenty more for you.” 

You can’t keep it together long enough to warn Anton. You just move your hand to his head, holding him close to your chest as you cum. Anton stills for you, and you pathetically lift your hips again and again to get more stimulation. You squeeze around him and Anton just coos as you, kissing the flaming skin on your chest and telling you how cute you are even if you’re treating him like a human dildo. 

He continues murmuring to you and coaxing you down from your peak until you’re spent underneath him, laying completely flat on the couch until you start melting into it yourself.

Anton’s large hand that was wrapped around your waist moves to your lower stomach instead. Feeling his hand on you causes you to twitch, and when he teasingly applies force you groan and start to writhe underneath him. He laughs at your condition, seemingly unfazed as he backs away from between your legs to sit down on the couch in front of you. The only indication that he’s as wrecked as you are is the way he takes in deep breaths, but even then he is ready while you’re still trying to regain your composure. Anton rubs your knee and smiles at how your limp leg yields to the lightest amount of force.

“I definitely won’t be able to use any of the footage.” You say. You turn your weak head to the camera and Anton follows suit. You playfully kick at his chest with your foot. “I bet the lighting was terrible. And you kept on talking to me all crazy.”

Anton’s hands go to your ankle, wrapping around it. He guides a foot to one side of your body, propping himself between your legs again.