#xavier lnd

You haven’t really talked since that stupid argument earlier. He’s being so incredibly stubborn, which is infuriating, but—and there’s always a 'but' with him— pushing him right now feels like a trap, a recipe for round two of the same fight.

You pull open your bedroom door and the smell hits you harder, like a silent protest from the kitchen. You start shedding your clothes, just tossing them into a messy heap on the floor.

It’s just a silly prank.

A tiny, wicked smirk pulls at your lips when you realize you've forgotten your necklace. Whatever. You decide to leave it on. The gold chain drapes perfectly, dipping right into the soft valley between your breasts, and you know exactly what that does to him.

He isn't the only stubborn one in this relationship.

As you wander back out into the main room, the stench of burnt food gets progressively worse but you dont care. Your eyes are locked on him. He’s hunched over the stove, looking uncharacteristically frantic as he tries to salvage whatever blackened mess is currently sizzling in the pan.

At this rate, he’s going to burn the whole building down, you think, shaking your head with exasperation. It’s ridiculous, he's a legendary hunter, a literal powerhouse, and yet he’s completely defeated by a frying pan. But then again, he’s so ridiculously cute when he’s failing at something so simple.

You find a spot to lean against the doorframe, crossing your arms right under your chest to emphasize the view, and just watch him. You’re playing the waiting game now, waiting for that moment of realization to hit him, to see that flicker of surprise when he finally notices you're standing there, butt naked.

Finally, you push off the wood and take a couple of steps toward him. You catch the exact second his shoulders stiffen, the way he vibrates with the sudden awareness of your presence.

He’s pretending you don't even exist. But he can't keep it up for long. He's a terrible liar when it comes to where his eyes wander.

"You're going to set the entire building on fire," you say, letting a healthy dose of fake concern drip from your voice. "Maybe you should just give up and order a pizza. Or hot pot. Anything besides... whatever this is."

You gesture vaguely toward the stove, where the pan is currently performing a violent, angry solo of sizzling and popping, releasing a cloud of smoke that shouldn't be there.

Silence. He's still playing the stoic martyr. Fine by you.

You sidle up next to him, moving in just close enough to feel the heat coming off his body. He's white knuckling his focus on the pan, acting like he isn't acutely aware of your proximity, trying so hard not to give you the satisfaction of a reaction.

Leaning in, you let your lips graze the shell of his ear, your voice dropping to a teasing whisper. "Unless... you were just looking for a convenient excuse to bail on cooking altogether?"

There. Mission accomplished. There is no way he can ignore you now.

As you pull back and turn to head out, you can practically feel Xavier’s gaze burning holes into your back. You know exactly what he's looking at 🍑, the parts of you that have always acted like a magnet for his attention.

"I'm ordering food," you call out over your shoulder, punctuating the sentence with a pointed nod toward the disaster on the stove. "I think we've had quite enough of that."

You take your sweet time walking out of the kitchen, making sure to put a little extra, intentional sway in your hips. You vanish around the corner with a little grin because you know you've successfully gotten under his skin.

And, predictably, you hear the footsteps. He's following you.

Making your way over to the dining table, you fumble for your phone to order something. You bend forward a bit, leaning over the table with the phone pressed to your ear, and you can already feel that prickle on the back of your neck. His footsteps are coming. Heavy, purposeful, and way too close.

Just as the girl on the other end finally picks up "Hello, thanks for calling..." you start to straighten up. You’re halfway there, thinking maybe the tension is breaking, when suddenly, his hands lunge out and catch your hips. Before you can even blink, he’s yanking you right back down.

A sharp gasp escapes you and for a second you think you’re gonna drop the phone. He’s got you bent over, chest pressed flat against the cold tabletop. His grip isn't exactly gentle either, fingers digging into your ass.

And then there's heat. You can feel him pressing up against your backside, the solid, heavy weight of him settling right between your asscheeks. His breath hot and ragged ghosts over the sensitive skin of your neck right before his lips graze you.

"I think you're forgetting something," he whispers "You don't get to pull a stunt like that and then just walk away"

The girl on the phone is prompting you, asking for your order, but how the hell are you supposed to remember if you wanted the spicy noodles or the mild when Xavier is looming over you? You swallow hard, trying to find your voice, and as his hands slide off your hips, you think, Okay, fine, he's letting me go. Relief starts to wash over you as you begin to rise.

Wrong. You were so incredibly wrong.

In a split second, he slams you back down against the wood. You let out a choked gasp, especially when you hear the rustle of fabric, the sound of his hand moving for the waistband of his pants.

You bite your lip so hard it hurts, desperate to stifle the moan that’s clawing its way up your throat when you hear him shoving his clothes down.

This wasn't part of the plan. Or maybe... maybe it was.

The voice on the phone speaks again, nudging you kind of rudely, out of that hazy, half delirious state you've drifted into.

"A—Ah! Uh, can we get... two large orders of the spicy noodles, please?" You almost moan the word large, trying to sound normal, but the timing couldn't be worse. Right as the syllable leaves your mouth, he lunges. One single, impossibly deep thrust that sinks him all the way in.

Your back arches instinctively, hips tilting back to meet him, trying to accommodate every agonizingly perfect inch of him as he stretches you wide. A moan, a real, honest to god moan starts to bubble up in your throat again, and you try to disguise it as a cough. Please, let her think it's just a shitty signal.

It's a losing battle. You’re taking shallow, shuddering breaths, trying to convince your heart to stop hammering against your ribs while you wait for the girl to confirm the order.

She starts reading your order back— two large, spicy noodle orders—but the words are just noise. Meaningless static. Because your entire universe has shrunk down to the exact moment he pulls back, agonizingly slow, before slamming forward again, hard, making your vision blur.

"Y-Yes..." you manage to whisper into the receiver. Your fingers are curling, nails digging into the hard wood of the table, trying to find some kind of leverage so you don't just slide right off the edge.

"We've got your address on file, it's the one linked to this number, right?" she asks, sounding so mundane, so blissfully unaware.

"YES!" you nearly shriek. The word echoes off the kitchen walls just as he hooks a leg, lifting it higher, leaving your foot dangling and flexing uselessly in the air. For a split second, you aren't even sure who you're answering to—the patient woman on the phone, or the man who is currently fucking your brains out.

"Will that be everything, ma'am?"

"Mmm, yeah... yeah, just like that," you wheeze into the receiver, though it sounds more like a series of desperate gasps than an actual coherent sentence. "I mean...yes! That’s the order. Two large spicy noodles. Definitely."

You silently pray she thinks you are obsessed with noodles. Just a super enthusiastic foodie who is genuinely stoked about her dinner, rather than a woman currently getting absolutely demolished by her boyfriend.

"It will be there in 30 minutes"

"OK!" you cry out, palm slapping the table with a dull thud as you end the call. Manners? Gone. Completely out the window, you were way too far gone to care about being polite.

“Such a good girl,” Xavier murmurs, voice turning dangerously smug as his hand slides down your belly, fingers delving through the slick curls at the apex of your thighs to play with your clit “Holding back all those pretty moans...”

“Mmmmfff... ahhh!” your eyes roll back and your toes curl so tight they start to cramp, but you barely even feel it because he is relentless. He drives you right through the peak of one climax and slams you straight into the next one without a second of mercy.

“Fuck, Xavie,” you gasp, the words tumbling out of you in a messy heap. “You fuck me so good. Seriously... so fucking good.”

"Next time you decide to play these little games with me..." he whispers against your ear, "just think twice, bunny. The joke might end up being on you."

He was tied up with important calls—probably something surgical or hospital related—but looking at that frozen, stoic face of his, you couldn't help but wonder: does he ever actually lose it? Would he chase after you the way those guys in the tt videos chased their naked girlfriends? Probably not. But, fortune favors the bold, right? Or so you told yourself.

Taking a shaky breath, you nudged the heavy office door open. The hinges gave an annoying little creak, echoing in the quiet room. Zayne didn't even look up at first, he was completely swallowed by the conversation on the other end of the line.

You knew he felt you there. He had to. There was a small pause, a subtle furrow in his brow as he processed whatever the caller was saying, but he kept his eyes glued to his computer.

Don't chicken out now, you told yourself. Just do it.

The air in the office felt a little too cold when you entered and started to wander. You felt ridiculous, walking around his workspace—naked— like you owned the place. You trailed your fingertips along the spines of his intimidating medical textbooks, acting like you were actually interested in the titles, all while feeling his eyes practically burning holes into you.

You had his attention

His eyes, usually so clinical and precise, were starting to look hazy, or maybe confused? It was hard to tell, but you could see the exact moment his brain tried to reconcile the professional call with the sight of your naked body drifting through his sanctuary. His jaw tightened—just a fraction—and you noticed his knuckles turning white where he gripped the phone.

You waited for it. A cough, a gasp, a "What on earth..." anything! But nothing. To your absolute frustration, he stayed silent. He just watched. He sat there with that unreadable mask, letting you be as shameless as you wanted to be. You could feel the weight of his gaze pressing against your spine as you leaned over a stack of papers, purposefully bending low to "inspect" them, making sure your backside was front and center for his viewing pleasure.

The silence was driving you crazy, it was the kind of quiet that felt heavy, pressing against your eardrums. It was unnerving, but there was also a delicious thrill running through your veins. You kept playing your part, half expecting him to break, to finally crack that perfect composure and lunge for you. But he didn't. He just sat there, listening to the voice on the phone, his eyes tracking your every movement like you were a specimen under a microscope. The only hint that he was actually losing his mind was the rhythmic, almost aggressive tap-tap-tap of his pen against the small calendar on his desk.

A little knot of disappointment tightened in your chest. Really? That's it? You figured your little performance hadn't landed quite the way you'd hoped. Feeling a bit foolish, you decided to cut your losses and started to turn away, intending to walk out of the office with as much dignity as a naked woman could muster.

But just as your hand found the door, his voice sliced through the air.

"Give me thirty minutes. I'll call you back."

It was so calm. So damn professional. It was the voice he used with colleagues, not the one he used when he was looking at you.

Your heart did a violent somersault. You froze, your palm flat against the cool metal of the doorknob, realizing you’d waited far too long to make your exit. Then came the sound, the distinct click of the phone being returned to its cradle. Suddenly, the room felt suffocatingly quiet, thick with a tension so heavy you could practically taste it. You were caught. Dead to rights.

Then, you heard the chair scrape against the floor.

As he stood up, his presence seemed to expand, filling the entire room until there was barely enough space left for you to breathe. He was so much taller, his shadow stretching out to swallow yours as he moved toward you. The temperature dropped—a chill settling in the air—and you couldn't help the involuntary shiver that racked your body. Slowly, tentatively, you turned around to face him, your eyes wide and searching, bracing yourself for whatever version of Zayne was about to meet you.

Zayne just stood there. Arms crossed tight over his broad chest, looking like a storm was about to break in the middle of his office. His eyes traced every single curve of your naked skin before finally snapping back up to your eyes. It was the kind of stare that made your lungs forget how to function.

"What exactly do you think you're doing?" he finally asked.

Naturally, you tried to play it cool, letting out a forced laugh "It was just a prank, Zayne! Come on, lighten up a little."

Big mistake. Huge.

He wasn't in the mood to lighten up. Before you could even turn the doorknob, he moved. He was fast—faster than you realized—and suddenly you were tossed over his shoulder like a sack of flour. You let out a little yelp of surprise, bare skin pressing against the fabric of his shirt as he walked towards the bedroom. "Zayne! Put me down!" you yelped, feeling both embarrassed and thrilled.

He didn't say a word. He just carried you in and dropped you onto the bed. You bounced on the mattress, blinking up at him, and then you saw it, the look in his eyes. He wasn't your stoic doctor right now. He was your husband, your very hungry husband.

His shirt was off in one motion, tossed carelessly somewhere toward the center of the room. Then the pants followed. You watched, breathless, as he stripped down, his movements efficient and certain. There was nothing modest about him now—he was fully exposed, and you couldn't help but stare. He was, in a word, impressive.

Then he was on the bed, crawling over you and pinning you down with his weight. You felt him, hot and hard, pressing against your stomach.

"We've got twenty eight minutes," he murmured right against your ear. "Let's make sure we don't waste a single one of them."

"Zay..."

"I really ought to punish you for your little stunt," he murmured, giving your inner thigh a hard slap "But instead? Instead, I’m going to fuck you so hard you won't try to prank me ever again...or maybe you will."

You barely had time to choke out his name again before he was moving. With one hard thrust he was inside you. A broken moan tore itself from your throat and your head thrashed back against the pillow as your body scrambled to accommodate his size. It was a lot but in the best possible way.

His pace was almost punishing, hips snapping forward with a raw force that had the entire bed frame groaning and the headboard slamming against the wall. Thud. Thud. Thud. Every thrust knocked the wind right out of your lungs, leaving you breathless.

You felt almost feral yourself, fingers scrabbling blindly at his back, nails digging into the hard, corded muscle of his shoulders just to stay grounded. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath coming in hot, uneven hitches against your skin. He was losing it, one hand clamped onto your hip as he hammered home, while the other continued to knead your breast with a bruising grip.

Just when you thought you couldn't take any more, he shifted. Without a word of warning, he flipped you over. Before you could even figure out what was happening, you were being maneuvered onto your hands and knees, braced and waiting.

For a split second, instinct took over. You tried to scramble forward, desperate to find some kind of breathing room away from the overwhelming heat of him. But there was no escaping Zayne when he was like this. His hands shot out, fingers digging into your hips as he hauled you backward, dragging you flush against him.

"Oh god, Zayne, please wait—" you begged, the words catching in your throat.

But the plea was useless. He didn't wait. He lunged forward again, a sudden thrust that sank him balls deep into your pussy. The change in angle was everything. The head of his cock bottomed out against your cervix with perfect precision. It was a specific kind of ache—the kind that sits right on the edge of pain and pure pleasure. It hurt so good it was almost unfair.

Panicked and overwhelmed, you tried to crawl away again. Your elbows and knees were trembling, shaking so violently you could barely hold yourself up, all in a vain attempt to outrun the relentless tempo he’d set. Every time you gained an inch, he’d just yank you back by the hips, slamming your ass hard against his pelvis until he was buried even deeper inside you.

"Keep trying to run," he gave your ass a sharp slap that made your body jolt "go ahead, keep fighting it, sweetheart. Eventually, you're gonna run out of bed... and I'll still be right here, fucking your brains out."

the bass from the main stage doesn’t just hit your ears; it vibrates straight through the thin soles of your sandals, humming up into your ribs. the beach concert was a damn neon-lit mass of salt-sticky skin, cheap coconut rum, and the suffocating heat of a thousand bodies swaying in tandem under the humid night sky. you’d left your friends screaming lyrics into the air, slipping away to the stall by the tree line to grab a refill.

now, cup held loosely in hand, you’re trying to wedge your way back through the shifting wall of people by the shoreline. it’s like trying to navigate a labyrinth of warm shoulders and fucking sweat. you take one blind step past a group of guys laughing too loud, and your foot catches on an uneven dip in the sand. 

you stumble forward, your shoulder colliding with something solid. 

fuck-

the iced drink sloshes violently over the rim of your plastic cup, splashing right across a broad, pale chest.

“shit, what the fuck—”

the curse is muttered under a breath that smells faintly of bitter lime and cheap gin, the tone completely flat, deadpan, and instantly recognizable. you blink, steadying yourself, and your eyes travel upward—past the dark cargo jorts low on his hips, past the lean, surprisingly cut lines of a pale torso, and over a thin silver chain resting against his collarbone.

it’s xavier.

his sunshades are perched crookedly in his messy ash-blonde hair, reflecting the distant strobe lights, and his diamond blue eyes are narrowed down at you in sheer annoyance. what is he doing here? he looks entirely out of place, a pale ghost haunting the edges of a party he clearly didn't want to invite himself to. a black stud glints in his earlobe as he tilts his head.

xavier stares at you. the slow blink of his eyelashes makes him look like a dazed bunny caught in a trap, his brain visibly short-circuiting as he processes the fact that someone from the university—let alone a blockmate he has actively avoided eye contact with for an entire semester—is standing right in his personal space.

he doesn't know what to do with his hands. he settles for crossing his arms over his wet chest, a pathetic attempt to shield himself from you, though it only serves to flex the skinny muscle of his biceps.

“you,” he mutters, his voice a low, monotonous drone that barely cuts through the thumping bass. he sounds like he's reading a script he hates. “you're from the block. the one who sits in the back.”

“and you're the one who sits in the front and doesn't talk at all,” you shoot back, not missing a beat. you let out a mocking little laugh, tilting your head up to match his gaze. you don't offer an apology for the sticky alcohol now dripping down his sternum. instead, you eye him up and down with an amused smile. “wow, look at you. i didn't know the block phantom actually possessed a pair of legs, let alone came outside. who dragged you out of your cave, xavier?”

his jaw tenses, a tiny twitch beneath his pale skin. 

he hates this. he hates the way you look at him like he’s a strange specimen under a microscope. he's used to being invisible, a background character who fades into the chalkboard grease of lecture halls. having your attention focused entirely on him feels like an interrogation.

“nobody,” xavier looks away, his eyes tracking the dark horizon of the ocean instead of facing you. “i came because i wanted to. not that it's any of your business. you should go back to your friends. you’re blocking the breeze.”

“ouch. friendly as always,“ you stepped closer just to watch the way his shoulders go rigid. you take a slow sip from your half-empty cup. “i'm surprised you even know what a breeze feels like, considering you usually look like you live in a basement. what's the matter? surprised to see me here?”

xavier's eyes flick back to you, cold and sardonic, though there's a faint tightness in his throat as he swallows. “i'm surprised you're capable of walking in a straight line. you spilled your drink on me.”

“consider it a baptism into the real world,” you say, laughing softly at his sour expression. “but seriously. you? at a beach concert? alone? it's a little pathetic, don't you think?”

xavier’s fingers dig slightly into the skin of his arms. he wants to tell you to go away. he wants to push past you and disappear into the dark, back to the quiet apartment where nobody looks at him, nobody mocks him, and nobody makes his chest feel this tight. but his feet feel heavy in the sand, anchored by the novelty of someone actually speaking to him.

“i'm fine by myself,” he says, his voice dropping into that familiar, stubborn tone. ”leave me alone.”

he turns on his heel, his large cargo jorts swishing heavily against his shins as he tries to melt back into the shadows. it’s his instinctual move—the clean break, the quiet exit. but you don’t let him. your sandals crunch in the sand right beside him, matching his stride.

“so are you seriously alone?” your voice drifts over his shoulder, light and entirely unbothered by his glaring aura of hostility. “like, actually by yourself? do you even have friends, xavier?”

the question bites, but he keeps his eyes fixed on the sand ahead. he does have friends. zayne and rafayel exist in his orbit, but the mere thought of zayne sitting on a humid beach with a plastic cup of cheap alcohol is absurd, and rafayel would have spent the entire night complaining about the quality of the crowd or the salt ruining his clothes. they aren't the type for this. they don't belong in a chaotic mass of college kids, and neither does he. but explaining that requires too many words, too much vulnerability.

“i have them,” he mutters, almost robotic as he steers away from the main shoreline. “they just have better things to do than stand around in the mud.”

you just chuckle, a mocking sound that follows him as he leads the way toward a darker, quieter corner of the resort. the heavy thump of the bass begins to muffle, filtered through a thick screen of tall bamboo stalks that sway lazily in the night breeze. it’s a designated smoking area, tucked away from the main pavilion. a couple of empty wooden crates serve as makeshift stools, and right now, the little pocket of shadows is completely deserted.

“then, why do you come here anyway? are you here to get some girls?” another snicker escapes past your lips. 

xavier then turns around to face you, his pale chest still gleaming slightly from the alcohol you spilled on him. his diamond blue eyes narrow under the faint amber glow of a single hanging bulb.

“[name], why are you suddenly all up in my ass?” he asks, the profanity sounding almost clinical coming from his voice. “don't you have a bunch of people waiting for you? you're... better off bothering some other guy who actually wants to, like, talk to you.“

he reaches into the deep pocket of his cargo jorts, his fingers pulling out a crumpled pack of cigarettes and a cheap plastic lighter. you watch him, momentarily stunned, as he slides a cigarette between his lips. the small flick of the flint illuminates the curves of his face—the boyish, bunny-like slope of his nose, the long eyelashes—contrasting sharply with the way he draws in the smoke. you hadn't expected this. the quiet blockmate who sits in the front row and never raises his voice actually smokes. he feels less like a flat, boring caricature of a loner and more like a puzzle with missing pieces.

you clear your throat, tilting your head as he exhales a thin, grey stream of smoke into the humid air, his eyes tracking the cloud as it disappears into the bamboo.

“well, my friends are occupied, and it's getting kind of boring over there,” you say, taking a step closer into his small sanctuary. a teasing smile plays on your lips. “honestly, it's way more entertaining to stand here and watch you squirm. so, what's the deal then? do you always hide out in corners like this? oh, i know why—it's a trick to attract girls, no? have you ever even experienced getting hit on by a girl before?” 

xavier takes another sharp drag, the tip of the cigarette glowing a fierce orange. he isn't used to this kind of attention—the piercing gaze of a girl who looks at him like he's something to be unraveled for amusement. his throat feels dry, because the truth is humiliating: almost no one approaches him, almost no one talks to him, and the few times women have looked his way, he had frozen up so badly they simply walked away, assuming he was stuck-up or broken.

“fuck off.” 

xavier shifts his weight, looking anywhere but at your face after pocketing his sunshades. “i'm not that type of guy. so, just leave me alone.”

he holds the cigarette awkwardly between his fingers, the ash growing dangerously long because he’s entirely too stiff to tap it off. his knuckles are white against the paper filter, and the silence between you only stretches, punctuated by the distant muffled thump of a techno remix playing by the shore.

“you're not that type of guy?” you repeat, stepping fully into the small bamboo enclosure. “what type? the type who knows how to hold a conversation, or the type who actually knows what to do when a girl hits on him?”

xavier squeezes his eyes shut for a fraction of a second, his chest rising and falling in a shallow breath. he takes another drag of his cigarette just to give his mouth something to do, but he inhales too fast.

“ghk—!”

he chokes.

it’s a pathetic, muffled cough into his fist, his whole pale torso spasming slightly as the smoke hits the back of his throat. it makes his blue eyes instantly water, looking away immediately and cursing silently in his mind. you didn't fail to catch the way his ears were burning a hot crimson.

“i'm fine,” he swallows hard, trying to force the monotonous drone back into his vocal cords, but it comes out sounding shaky. “the wind changed.”

“there is no wind, xavier,” you cross your arms, leaning your hip against one of the bamboo stalks. “jesus, you really don't know what to do with yourself, do you? are you seriously this clueless around women?”

“i-i'm not fucking clueless,” 

a normal experienced guy would laugh it off, make a smooth joke, or step into your space to push the tension back onto you. xavier does none of that. he just freezes, staring at his cargo jorts like the faded denim holds the answers to the universe. “i just... don't see the point. people are loud. you're loud.”

“i'm standing right here and talking in a normal voice,” you point out, taking a deliberate step closer. the scent of your fruity drink mixes with the bitter tobacco smoke hanging around him. “xavier, look at me when i'm talking to you.”

his eyes flick up, entirely against his will, caught off guard by the authority in your tone. up close, his features really do look like a startled bunny—wide, blinking eyes, a soft, trembling lower lip that he bites down on to keep from speaking. he looks so incredibly defenseless for someone who just told you to fuck off two minutes ago.

“...what do you want from me? i don't have anything to say to you. you're just... doing this on purpose.”

“doing what?”

“making fun of me,” xavier tightly grips his own upper arms again, his black piercings catching the light as he ducks his head. “you're just bored and you want to see how long it takes for me to look fucking stupid. go back to the beach.”

“tch—hahahaha!“

the sound of your laughter breaks the quiet of the bamboo enclosure, echoing over the distant thumping of the bass. you actually have to hold your stomach, tilting your head back because god, xavier is a riot. his reactions are better than any entertainment on the main stage! the panic vibrating off his frame makes a wicked little thrill dance in your chest. you want to toy with him until he completely snaps.

“okay, okay, look,” you say, catching your breath but keeping that mocking smile fixed on your lips. “i'll leave you alone. i’ll walk away right now, but... you have to answer just one more question for me.”

xavier watches you out of the corner of his wet, glass-pink eyes, his chest heaving with shallow breaths. he doesn't say anything, which you take as a green light.

“are you a virgin?” you ask, leaning in slightly, your voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper. “because honestly, xavier? you look and act exactly like one. oh my god, are you really a virgin?”

you expect him to choke again. you expect him to stutter, to turn away, or to give you another defensive non-answer. but instead...

“yes,” xavier shoots back instantly, his voice cracking slightly on the vowel but sharp enough to slice through the humid air. he doesn't hesitate. he stares right into your eyes, his diamond blue gaze dark and completely cornered. “i am a fucking virgin. are you happy now? is that what you wanted to hear? so go away. go find some experienced guy who actually knows what the fuck he's doing and bother him instead.”

you blink. 

oh. oh. 

he really is... a total virgin, huh. 

you hadn't actually expected him to just lay his cards on the table like that, so exposed and utterly pathetic in his honesty. it leaves you momentarily speechless, looking at the sharp lines of his collarbone, the flushed skin of his bare chest.

but, a slow grin crawls back onto your face. you decide to press his buttons harder. “hmm. i don't believe you.”

xavier’s eyebrows knit together into a deep frown. “what the fuck do you mean you don't believe me?”

“i mean, i have to at least find out for myself, right?”

the air catches in xavier's throat, his eyes widening into pools of pure shock. he stutters, his lips moving a few times before any sound actually comes out.

“...what?” he croaks, his gaze darting frantically between your eyes and your mouth. “w-what did you just say? repeat that. i must've... i-i misheard you or something—”

“i said, i want to feel your shape, xavier.”

what the... fuck.

xavier suddenly chokes on his own saliva, a harsh, pathetic cough rattling through his chest. his hand trembles so violently that the half-smoked cigarette slips right from his fingers, tumbling into the dark sand below, its orange ember dying instantly. he doesn't even notice. his mind is entirely fried, the blue of his eyes completely wild as he stares down at you, his back pressed so hard into the bamboo that the stalks groan behind him.

“you're... you're fucking messing with me,” he breathes out, “you're really... you're really this committed to making a fool out of me, aren't you?”

you chuckle sweetly, “i'm not messing with you, xavier?”

your eyes slowly track downward, leaving his flushed face and trailing across the expanse of his shirtless torso. you're searching for something, and it doesn't take long to find it. there, nestled beneath the faded denim of his cargo jorts, is the unmistakable silhouette of a growing tent. it twitches slightly under your gaze, like a physical betrayal of how affected he actually is.

xavier notices where you're looking and his brain completely short-circuits. “i-i don't... i don't even know what you want from me, so—okay, what the fuck, what the fuck—”

his voice cuts off into an unintentional high-pitched whimper as your hand reaches out and presses directly against the apex of his tent.

“ah.. nh...”

it’s a pathetic, needy little sound that slips past his lips before he can stop it. your fingers curl slightly, deliberately playing with the stiff shape through the thick denim, testing his weight. xavier’s hand instantly fly to your shoulder, his long fingers gripping your skin tightly—not to push you away, but because his knees have suddenly gone completely weak. 

you stop the movement for a second, looking up at him with a look of mock concern. “oh my, xavier... you've been hard?”

he tries desperately to catch his breath, his eyes closing tight before snapping open again. and he presses himself even harder against the groaning bamboo wall behind him, trying to swallow the hot lump in his throat.

“i-i'm a guy, okay?” he stammers out, his monotonous drone completely shattered into a defensive whine. “and... and you... you know you're really pretty, and you're—you're fucking hot, so... of course my body is going to—to—”

“how long?” you cut him off, your voice dripping with teasing authority while your thumb slowly strokes the length of his twitching bulge. “how long have you been hard for me?”

his head snaps to the side, his chin tucking into his shoulder as he desperately avoids your eyes. the deep, burning crimson has spread all the way down his neck, coloring his pale chest in splotchy, beautiful patches of sheer embarrassment. he looks so small, so incredibly tense and cute as he writhes weakly under your palm.

“s-since... fuck,” he stutters, a small, frustrated sob caught in the back of his throat as your fingers twitch against him. his eyelashes flutter rapidly, wet with panicked tears. “since like... since you started talking to me, okay? since you—i couldn't—i couldn't help it. please stop... no, don't stop, just—ah...”

the weight of him expands under your palm, hot and straining fiercely against the thick denim of his cargo jorts. you let out a soft exaggerated gasp, pulling your lips into a mockingly surprised pucker.

“oh, wow,” you murmur, your fingers spreading out to measure him through the fabric. “so you're actually pretty big, huh? look at you, xavier.”

the praise makes xavier’s head roll back against the bamboo stalk, his eyes half-lidded and glazed over with a heavy daze. the fierce crimson on his cheeks makes the blue of his eyes look blindingly bright, almost silver under the amber bulb. he looks down at you through his long lashes, lips parting as he draws in a shaky breath.

“y-you... you really think so?” 

”i do,” you coo, giving him a gentle, firm squeeze that makes his hips involuntarily twitch forward into your touch. “does anybody else know how big you actually are, xavier? have you shown anyone?”

xavier frantically shakes his head no, the messy ash-blonde strands falling into his eyes. “n-no... nobody,” he stammers, “nobody else has ever... ever touched me like this. i told you, i'm—i'm a virgin.”

”poor thing,” you slowly slide your hand up and down his length, snickering under your breath.

and the moment the words poor thing leave your lips, the bulge underneath your hand twitches violently, a thick pulse that you feel right against your palm. xavier lets out a ragged hitch of his breath, his eyes snapping wide open as a jolt of pleasure shoots straight to his groin. he looks at you like a starved creature, his bottom lip trembling as he swallows hard, trying to force his tangled tongue to work.

“s-say... say that again,” he pleads, his voice cracking. his grip on your shoulder tightens, pulling you a fraction of an inch closer to his shirtless chest.

“say what?” 

“th-that... what you just—just called me,” he stutters harder, his pale torso completely tense, a thin sheen of sweat making his collarbone glisten under the light. “c-call me... call me a poor thing again. please. it—it felt...”

he can't even finish the sentence, but you strangely find yourself obeying him anyway. there's something entirely intoxicating about seeing the unapproachable, sardonic block loner reduced to a shivering pathetic mess right in front of you just from a few words.

“poor thing,” you whisper sweetly, leaning in until your breath brushes against his burning ear. “such a poor, pathetic little bunny. you're so sensitive, xavier. look how worked up you are just from me touching your pants.”

”oh, f-fuck... ah...” his head slowly shakes from side to side against the bamboo wall, his entire body trembling as you continue to rhythmically palm him through the cargo jorts. 

“you like being called a poor thing?” you whisper, pressing your body against his trembling frame to pin him thoroughly. “do you want to be called something else, hm? perhaps a... good boy?”

“y-yes... ah! please—” his fingers dig into the meat of your shoulders, desperate for anchor, his knuckles turning stark white. “call me—call me that... please, say it... just say it, i—i want to hear it, please...”

“no.”

the denial breaks him. and for all that he is, he fucking lets out a pathetic sob, his head thrashing from side to side against the bamboo wall. he becomes a completely unhinged, moaning, begging mess right beneath you—just a pathetic starved virgin writhing under your touch.

“please... please,” he wails softly, a breathless moan tearing from his throat as his lower lip trembles violently. “don't be mean... don't be mean to me, i'll—i'll do whatever you want... just call me it... please, tell me i'm—tell me i'm a good boy...”

seeing him reduced to such a shivering, responsive wreck is too sweet to resist. you let your hand resume its punishing pace, and lean right into his burning ear. “such a good boy, xavier. look how well you take it for me. such a sweet, good boy. like that?”

“ngh—!!”

xavier goes completely rigid.

his eyes roll back into his head, his eyelids fluttering as his entire torso spasms violently. a loud, choked-out moan tears from his chest, echoing against the bamboo as he begins to fucking cum right through the thick fabric of his cargo jorts.

“fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck fumck—”

his hips slam into your hand over and over in helpless, uncoordinated jerks. he spasms like a dying bunny, helpless to stop the overwhelming waves of friction. and because he’s a little virgin, because he has held everything in for so long, the release is incredibly violent and lasts a bit too long, his body continuously tightening and pulsing against your palm while he stutters and moans incoherently into the dark air.

“shit, xavier, it's not stopping yet?”

“f-fuck... ah, ah... n-no, it's—it's too much... hngh... please...” 

slowly, the violent tremors begin to subside, leaving him slumped weakly against the bamboo, his legs visibly shaking as if they can barely support his weight. oh god, he's so fucking embarrassed.

you slowly draw your hand back, tilting your head as you inspect your palm. the front of his cargo jorts is completely ruined, a dark and sticky-wet stain soaking through the stiff denim.

xavier’s hand leave your shoulder, his fingers trembling so violently he can barely coordinate them as he slides a palm up his face, pushing his messy ash-blonde hair back from his forehead. he presses his hand over his eyes, his breathing still coming in ragged gaps that rattle his throat.

“oh fuck,” he breathes into his skin, the word muffled, trembling, and saturated with a wave of humiliation. “fuck... i didn't... i'm sorry.”

he drops his hand from his face, his diamond blue eyes looking completely wide and glossy with a pinkish rim of pure embarrassment. he looks away from you, staring desperately at the dark sand beneath his feet.

“i didn't mean to... to do that,” he mutters, though it's entirely thin and cracked at the edges. “i got... carried away. i told you it was my... my first time doing anything like this. i didn't know it would... fuck. i'm sorry for cumming too quick.”

“you really are funny,” you let out a sweet chuckle, entirely unbothered by his panic as you step back a fraction of an inch, your eyes trailing over his shivering frame. you turn around lazily, stepping toward one of the high, makeshift wooden crates tucked against the bamboo wall. with an easy grace, you hop up, sitting against the rough edge of the wood.

“well, since you ruined the mood by finishing so fast, you're going to have to make up for it.”

xavier blinks, his long eyelashes fluttering rapidly as his brain stalls out yet again. he looks at you, eyebrows knitting together into a vulnerable frown that makes him look like a lost child. “make... make up for it? what do you mean?”

“i mean exactly what i said,” you murmur, leaning back slightly against the bamboo behind you, parting your knees just enough to send a message. “it's my turn now. you need to give me something.”

xavier’s mouth parts, a breathless gasp escaping his lips. he stands looking at you like you’ve just spoken a language he has never heard before. “i... i don't know what you want. i don't have anything to give you.”

“use your hands, xavier,” you point a finger down at yourself. “put your fingers in me.”

“w-what?” he stammers, his voice cracking loudly as the splotchy red flush on his chest flares up with renewed heat. “you... want me to do what? i can't—i don't know how to do something like that. i've never—i've never touched a girl before. what if i mess it up? what if i hurt you?”

“shush,” you pat the edge of the wooden crate, tilting your chin down. “come here, don't make me repeat myself.”

he looks at you through those long eyelashes, his body frozen in place for three agonizing seconds before the invisible leash pulls him forward. his large cargo jorts swish heavily against his knees as he drags his feet through the dark sand, moving with the reluctant obedience of a stray dog that knows it's about to get scolded. he stops right between your thighs, his torso glistening with a fresh sheen of anxious sweat under the low amber light.

“i'll guide you,” you say softly, your voice dipping into that patronizing tone that treats him like the complete novice he is.

without breaking eye contact, your fingers reach down to the fly of your shorts. the metallic click of the button snapping open sounds loud in the small bamboo clearing, followed by the slow scratch of the zipper sliding down.

zzzzzip.

xavier’s gaze drops instantly, drawn down by the gravity of his own terror, and then he stares at the soft curve of your exposed lower belly. he looks so incredibly flustered, his throat working in a visible gulp. he realizes, with a sudden wave of panic, that he is about to see a girl's pussy in real life for the first time in his years of pathetic existence. not on a screen, not in a textbook, but right here, breathing and warm, under a resort light.

“hey, i told you,” he stammers out, his voice a shaky, thin thread that lacks even a fraction of his earlier sardonic bite. “i'm... i'm not going to be good at this. you're going to... you're going to hate it. don't expect anything from me.”

you don't even bother to acknowledge his miserable little disclaimer. instead, you lean forward slightly, your fingers wrapping around his trembling wrists, forcing his cold hands down until they rest against the waistband of your unbuttoned denim.

“take them off. panties, too. do it together.”

xavier lets out a faint gasp, a breathless “fuck...” slipping past his lips before he can choke it back. he looks at your hands on his wrists like you're forcing him into a crime, but his fingers instinctively curl into the fabric anyway. he’s so utterly malleable under your authority it’s almost laughable.

with hands that shake so violently they repeatedly snag against the rough denim, he begins to push the material down your hips. the fabric bunches around your upper thighs, and he moves with an agonizing slowness, as if he's terrified that any sudden movement will cause you to vanish or, worse, laugh at him again. his eyes trace the expanse of your thighs as they are slowly unveiled.

but as the dark cotton of your underwear follows the denim down to your knees, xavier’s head abruptly jerks upward. his eyes snap to your face, wide and frantic, deliberately forcing his gaze to stay glued to your eyes. he absolutely refuses to look directly there yet.

slowly, you part your thighs, the smooth skin of your legs brushing against the coarse fabric of his long jorts as you widen the space between you. “look at it, xavier,” you murmur, “look at it, and put a finger inside.”

xavier squeezes his eyes shut, his throat moving in a heavy, desperate gulp. for a second, he just stands there in the dark, his hands twitching helplessly in the air as if he’s praying for the bamboo stalks to swallow him whole. and when his eyelids finally flutter open, his gaze drops down. 

he looks, staring directly into the slick, parted heat of your pussy. a wave of heat surges up his cheeks, turning his ears a bright crimson under the bulb. he looks less like a man and more like a completely overwhelmed creature that has just stumbled upon something sacred and terrifying. his lips part, a small, shaky exhale slipping past his teeth.

“it's... it's so pretty,” he whispers under his breath, the praise slipping out unfiltered, raw and thoroughly pathetic in its utter lack of cool. it’s the kind of line only an absolute virgin would utter while staring between a girl's legs.

you reach down to wrap your fingers around his trembling wrist once more. “now don't just stare at it. put a finger in.”

you guide his hand forward, his long index finger pressing hesitantly against the wet entrance of your womanhood. xavier flinches slightly at the sudden contact, his other hand flying out in a blind, clumsy reflex to grip your knee. 

with a slow nudge of your hand, his finger slides past your lower lips, sinking into the tight, tight heat of your walls.

fuck. fuck, fuck.

the moment the slick warmth swallows his finger to the knuckle, xavier’s eyes widens, a strangled gasp tearing from his throat. under the damp denim of his cargo jorts, the ruined bulge of his erection twitches shamelessly, growing harder and tighter against his stomach even though he literally just came through his clothes minutes ago. 

“is this right?” his finger is stiff, twitching awkwardly inside you without any real rhythm because he has absolutely no clue what he’s doing. “am i doing it okay? tell me if it hurts, or if it's–shit you're so fucking warm.”

“you're just holding it there, xavier. that's not fingering,” you mock gently, your thumb pressing down on the back of his wrist to force an upward hooking motion. “curve your finger. like this. curl it up inside me.”

“l-like this?” he croaks, his pupils completely dilated as he tries to mimic the movement. his hand is so tense the tendons are standing out along his forearm, his knuckles white where he’s gripping your knee. he hooks his finger clumsily, catching against your sensitive walls, and the sudden wet squelch of his own awkward movements makes his face burn twice as hot. “like that? are you—are you liking it?”

“i'd like it a lot more if you weren't moving like a broken thing. do it faster, and deeper. unless this is really the absolute best those clumsy fingers of yours can manage?”

“fuck... shut up,” 

before you can even laugh at his little display of temper, his free hand—the one anchoring him to your knee—moves with a sudden bruising grip. his long fingers dig firmly into the soft flesh of your thigh, and with a sharp, heavy heave of his arm, xavier lifts your leg high. he hoists it all the way up onto his shoulder, forcing your thighs to splay open in a completely exposed angle.

the suddenness of the movement makes your breath hitch, your fingers instantly digging into the rough wood of the crate to keep your balance as the cool night air hits the absolute dampest, most intimate part of you. from this point, you are entirely laid bare under the amber bulb, a prize splayed out for the most pathetic pervert on campus to see.

xavier doesn't look away. now that his insecure temper has been piqued, his eyes are fixed entirely on your pussy. he leans over you, his chest casting a long shadow across your lap, the silver chain around his neck swinging like a pendulum as he repositions his hand.

“you want it faster?” he mutters, his breath hot and uneven against your neck. “fine.”

he drives his index finger back into you, burying it all the way to the base of his knuckle. a loud, squelching wet sound echoes clearly over the rustling bamboo stalks as his hand begins to piston into your heat. it’s still incredibly clumsy—his rhythm is erratic, a frantic, uncoordinated jerking motion that has absolutely no baseline experience behind it—but the force of his desperation makes up for what he lacks in technique. he's pushing into you with everything he has, his knuckle bumping repeatedly against your sensitive outer lips.

“wow,” you gasp out, a genuine shudder ripping through your frame as the friction starts to build. “look at you go. you're actually starting to get a hang of it, bunny.”

jesus, you are so goddamn wet. the sound of his own clumsy finger sloshing around inside you is so loud, so incredibly lewd, that the heavy tent underneath his cargo jorts throbs with a renewed tightness. he is so hard it physically hurts, a thick drop of pre-cum soaking further into the stained denim as he pins you down further.

the heat between your thighs is beginning to build into something thick and undeniable, like a buzzing current of pleasure that ripples right up your spine every time xavier’s clumsy finger drives home. it’s getting incredibly hard to maintain that mocking little smirk you’ve been wearing like armor. your teeth dig sharply into your bottom lip, trying to anchor the ragged gasps threatening to slip past your throat. you absolutely cannot let this isolated, virgin blockmate see that his zero-experience is actually working on you. it would be completely humiliating to lose your grip on the reins now.

you need to remind him exactly who is running this little thing.

“two,” you breathe out, your voice a little tighter, a little more strained than you intended. “put two fingers in, xavier. one isn't doing anything.”

xavier's hand freezes dead inside you, his eyes widening into flustered circles as he looks up from your wet folds.

“two?” he looks at his own hand, then back up at your parted thighs. “but... you're already so tight. i don't think they'll fit. what if i stretch you too much? what if it—”

“shut up and just do it.”

he gulps, the silver necklace clicking against his collarbone as he slowly, awkwardly wedges his middle finger right alongside his index. the sudden thick expansion against your walls makes your hips twitch involuntarily on the wooden crate. xavier doesn't even wait for you to lecture him this time; driven by a sudden, greedy curiosity, he begins to piston his hand back into your heat.

squelch.

“~ah!”

a loud genuine moan slips right past your teeth, echoing sharply against the rustling stalks above.

instead of pulling back, xavier plunges his hand deeper, driving those two fingers all the way to the hilt, his thumb bumping hard against your clit with a clumsy pressure that makes your toes curl into the air. 

“more,” you whimpered, the teasing girl completely vanishing, replaced by a needy shivering mess that’s entirely at the mercy of a boy who didn't even know what a pussy looked like twenty minutes ago. “put... put three, xavier. put three in.”

“th-three?” he gasps out, his knuckles slick with your own arousal as he hovers at the entrance. “are you sure? that's—that's too much, you're already so wet and, and, i don't—”

losing the last shred of your patience, you reach down and blindly grab his wrist to yank him forward.

with a low grunt that sounds entirely unlike him, he forces his ring finger right into the tight seam of your pussy. “shit—what the fuck...”

the brutal stretch of three fingers burying themselves inside you all at once catches you completely off guard. you let out a helpless whimper, your back arching off the wooden crate as your fingers claw desperately into the rough grain of the seat. 

the sloshing sound inside you is getting even more out of hand, a wet rhythmic squelch that is echoeing obscenely. and he’s doing it. the guy who looks like he’d apologize to a door if he bumped into it, is currently burying three thick fingers into your heat. 

but for someone who is supposedly delivering the pleasure here, he is making an absolute fool of himself. xavier is whining. actually whining. every time he shoves his hand forward, a strained noise hitches in the back of his throat, his soft boyish features contorting into a pained, pathetic scowl as if he’s the one being subjected to some kind of beautiful torture. his forehead is pressed nearly against your hoisted knee, his chest heaving so hard the silver chain is practically rattling against his collarbone.

you let out a breathless chuckle, fingers digging into his sweat-slicked shoulder just to feel the way his skinny muscles twitch under your touch. look at him. he looks like a pathetic, cornered bunny who is entirely too greedy for his own good.

“what's the matter, xavi? do you want to say something to me?”

in response to your mocking, xavier lets out a frustrated grunt. he drives his three fingers brutally deep, all the way to the hilt until his damp knuckles press hard against your entrance, and curls them upward with a sudden hook.

”~ah! shit!”

you squirm violently on the wooden crate, your toes clawing into the dark air while your hips involuntarily rise to meet his hand. 

xavier pants heavily, his blue eyes completely glazed over and dark with a drunken daze. he looks down at where his hand is buried inside you, his lips trembling as he tries to swallow the thick knot of embarrassment in his throat. “i-i don't... i'm unsure if i can say it,” he stammers out, his voice a shaky cracked whisper. “am i allowed to say it?”

you can barely even find your voice to answer him, your chest heaving as you give a wordless impatient nod. your brain is entirely too focused on the fact that his long fingers are moving way too loudly inside you.

then, without an ounce of warning, xavier leans in close, his hot breath fanning over the sensitive skin of the pulse in your neck. the movement forces you to stretch your leg wider, higher.

“...can i eat you out?”

the whisper is so incredibly soft, so completely unpolished, that it catches you entirely off guard. your eyes widen, your heart doing a sudden flip in your chest. the absolute audacity of this virgin. he’s still actively pistoning his fingers inside you, making you stretch and leak all over his knuckles, and he has the nerve to ask that?

“say it fucking properly.” you gasp out, trying desperately to claw back your sense of control because you refuse to let him see how much the question actually rattled you. “say it like an actual guy, you dork.”

xavier blinks, trying his absolute best to shake off the thick, pleasure-drunk fog clouding his brain. he doesn't pull his hand out; instead, he uses his grip on your knee to hoist himself up, leaning over your body more until his flushed, beautiful face is bare inches from yours. his messy ash-blonde hair brushes against your forehead, his dilated blue pupils locked onto your lips.

“can i eat your pussy?”

fuck.

he says it with the most ridiculous combination of innocence and desperation. it’s a line that should sound smooth, but coming from his trembling splotchy-red lips, it just sounds like a starved creature begging for a scrap of food. and the worst part? your body absolutely eats it up.

before you can even think of a mocking comeback, a thick hot gush of white liquid sloshes out from deep inside you, sliding slowly down his fingers and over your exposed thighs. your eyes roll completely inward, a loud, shattered moan tearing from your throat as your back arches entirely off the wooden crate. you shake helplessly under his touch, your walls clamping down around his three fingers in a pulsating rhythm as you come.

fuck, how did you come this fast? he’s just a fucking loser virgin. a loner who doesn't talk to anyone. how the hell did he just reduce you to a shivering, dripping wreck with nothing but a few clumsy fingers and a pathetic question?

xavier completely cuts off your trail of thought. he slowly pulls his three fingers straight out of your heat. the sudden emptiness makes you whimper, but the movement allows a fresh wave of your sticky, white cum to spill out, dripping lazily down the skin of your seat.

his fingers are dripping with your wetness, his breath coming in short, pathetic puffs as he stares down at the mess he just made. he looks like an absolute freak, an innocent bunny who just realized he has a taste for blood, unable to believe his own eyes.

but the next words that slip past his lips completely seal his fate as a total pervert.

“guess i'll take this as a chance to lick you clean,” he looks up at you through his long eyelashes, his lower lip quivering with that same pathetic timidity. “going to eat you out now. okay?”

you’re slumped against the wooden crate, chest heaving and trying to pull oxygen into lungs that feel entirely too tight. your brain is still a scrambled mess of white noise from the climax you just handed over to a fucking virgin.

and speaking of the devil—or, well, the pathetic bunny in jorts—he’s already moving.

xavier drops heavily onto his knees, the dark sand crunching under his shins. his torso leans forward, long fingers spreading out to grip the flesh of your thighs with a sudden, possessive weight. his knuckles are still slick with your release, and his diamond blue eyes are completely wide again, staring at the pink ruined seam of your core like he’s about to perform open-heart surgery without a license.

slowly, hesitantly, xavier tilts his head. his long eyelashes flutter as he leans in, the tip of his tongue darting out to gently and awkwardly lick the excess white cum dripping from your lower lips.

he flinches at the taste, his ears turning a fresh violent shade of maroon. you can see the nervousness radiating off him; he looks up at you through his messy ash-blonde fringe, his eyes wide and seeking validation like a dog that just accidentally knocked over a vase. the contrast is hilarious. he’s the one who made the perverted request, but he has absolutely no blueprint for how to actually do it.

you open your mouth, a mocking jibe sitting right on the tip of your tongue, ready to dismantle whatever is left of his dignity—

schlick.

xavier buries his face directly into your heat, his mouth pressing clumsily against your clit.

the sudden sloppy sensation makes your head snap straight up against the bamboo wall, a sharp breath hitching violently in your throat. your fingers instantly claw into the rough wood of the crate. he is entirely uncoordinated, his nose shoving hard against your skin as his tongue licks in a frantically flat rhythm that feels more like a wet puppy.

but god, he’s enthusiastic. way too enthusiastic.

“f-fuck,” xavier mumbles against your wet folds, his voice muffled, vibrating directly against your sensitive skin. a high, pathetic whine breaks from his throat between heavy suctions. “shit... i'm getting... i'm getting so hard again.”

“xavier, stop just flat-licking me like a freak,” you gasp out, trying to regain a shred of your authority while your lower half shivers under his mouth. you reach down, your fingers tangling into the soft, damp strands of his blonde hair to guide his head. “swirl your tongue. swirl it right there on the tip. and suck... like this.”

he whimpers against your skin, his hands tightening on your thighs, bruising your skin in his effort to obey. he tries to mimic your words, his tongue swirling awkwardly, catching the sweet spot just enough to make your knees shake.

“like this?” xavier croaks, his head suddenly bobbing up from down below. his face is an absolute disaster—lips glistening with your wetness. “am i doing it good?”

“go lower,” you breathe out impatiently, your hips twitching forward. “you talk too much.”

“i-i'm sorry,” he stammers out pathetically, his boyish features crumpling into a flustered scowl before he ducks his head back down.

this time, driven by your command and his own desperate need to be a good boy, xavier opens his mouth wide. he presses his lips flat against your opening and drives his tongue straight inside you. deep.

squelch.

the wet intrusion stretches you all over again, his tongue pushing into the slick path his fingers had carved out. it’s heavy, hot, and completely unpolished, but the sheer force of him burying his face into your pussy makes your entire world tilt. you fist your fingers deeper into the strands of his ash-blonde hair, the soft texture slipping between your knuckles as you use your grip to ruthlessly guide his head. you push him down, forcing his face entirely into your aching thing.

xavier lets out a muffled whimper right against your wet folds, his lips vibrating against your clit as he tries to draw in air. a tangled chain of choked curses—fuck, please, shit—bleeds directly into your skin, swallowed up by the sloshing wetness he's created. but he doesn't pull away. the absolute pervert doesn't even try to fight you. instead, his fingers slide up your skin, his nails digging ruthlessly into the soft meat of your outer thighs until they leave angry crescent marks that bloom into a fierce crimson. 

you really thought you could just toy with the loser and walk away unscathed, didn't you? look at you now, pinning a shirtless, twitching virgin to your lap in a deserted smoking area while a bassline thumps half a mile away.

the worst part is, the loser is actually a fast learner. his tongue stops the clumsy licking and starts to focus, his instincts adapting with a greedy terrifying speed. he swirls his tongue with an erratic friction right over your most sensitive knot of nerves, combining it with a suction that makes your pelvis lift completely off the wooden crate. then, a tight knot begins to coil deep in your lower belly, tightening with every sloppy degrading lap of his tongue.

suddenly, his large hands slide under your knees. he yanks your thighs inward with a bruising force, pulling you so close that your face is nearly level with the top of his head.

“x-xavier—ngh!”

the sudden change in angle forces a shattered whimper from your throat, your legs trembling helplessly up in the air—and xavier takes absolute advantage of your exposure. 

he buries his face much deeper, driving his nose hard against your pelvic bone as he begins to eat you out with a violently frantic hunger. his tongue pistons straight inside your opening before curling up to swipe your clit in a messy relentless pattern.

it feels so good it’s sickening. your fingers tighten in his hair, pulling his scalp so hard your knuckles go white, but he just whines and sucks harder, completely drunk on the taste of you. the knot in your belly snaps.

“sh-shit, xavier—wait, wait-!”

too late, your words are completely drowned out by a sudden violent spasm that rips through your entire lower half. your walls clamp down like a vice, and before your brain can even process the sensation, a thick hot gush of clear fluid erupts from deep inside you.

you're squirting.

you're violently squirting right into his face, the hot liquid spraying across his nose, his lips, and flooding his mouth all at once. “shit—fffunmck!” xavier lets out a muffled, terrified squeak, his eyes flying wide open in shock as he’s suddenly drowning in your release. he tries to jerk his head back, but your hands are still buried deep in his ash-blonde hair, ruthlessly holding his face down just to pin him to the source of your climax while you shake and sob under his mouth.

the spray of your release slowly tapers off into a quiet drip, leaving the bamboo enclosure thick with the heavy scent of cum and salt. your fingers finally loosen their white-knuckled grip on his hair.

the moment he’s freed, xavier pulls his face away with a gasp. his mouth is parted, his lower lip trembling as your second climax literally drips down the boyish slope of his chin, glistening under the low light. shit, he looks so fucking cute like that—like a completely corrupted and overwhelmed bunny who doesn't know whether to run away or bite.

he stays on his knees for a second, looking up at you from the sand with an anticipated expression.

“did you... did you really just... twice? you came... twice? from my... from my fingers and... and my tongue?”

you click your tongue. “don't be so full of yourself.”

he slowly stands up, his long legs noticeably shaky beneath his cargo jorts, which are still heavily stained and ruined from his own embarrassing mishap earlier. “shit,” he mutters under his breath, turning his head away. “shit... fuck...”

you let out a small chuckle, finally lowering your trembling legs from the wooden crate and letting your feet sink back into the cool sand. “you actually kind of did a good job, bunny,” 

xavier’s head snaps back to you, his eyes wide. “you really think so?”

you nod, sitting up a little straighter against the makeshift high chair, adjusting your messy hair. “yeah. look at you. you can actually go save this for the next time you need it, you know? consider yourself graduated. you basically have experience now.”

it's kind of hilarious how desperately you're trying to regain control when your thighs are literally vibrating.

xavier stays dead-silent for a beat. he reaches up with the back of his hand, aggressively wiping the wetness from his lips and face. “yeah... maybe. yeah. that... that makes sense.” 

he blinks, his eyes tracking your movements. “wait. where are you going?”

you tilt your head, reaching down to grab the waistband of your underwear and shorts, casually pulling them back up over your sticky thighs and into place. “i'm going back to my friends. they must be looking for us—well, for me—already.”

“what?” he croaks out, taking a clumsy step toward you. “why? where—aren't you going to stay?”

“and do what? stand in the dark with a guy who ruined his own pants in two minutes?” you shoot back, letting out a sharp laugh as you swing your legs off the crate and stand up.

but the moment your feet hit the sand, your knees completely buckle. wow. your legs feel like absolute, wobbly jelly, a direct consequence of his three-fingered pistoning. you stumble slightly, taking one awkward small step toward the exit of the bamboo clearing.

“hey, you can't just—i mean, you're the one who came in here and started—” 

he suddenly cuts himself off.

before you can even take another step, a pair of pale hands lunges forward from the dark. xavier grabs your upper arms with a suddenly startling grip, and with a frustrated grunt, he pushes you harshly back against the makeshift high chair.

thud.

the rough wood bites into your lower back again as you slam into it, your eyes widening in complete shock and pain. that caught you so thoroughly off guard you actually couldn't say a single word, your breath trapped in your throat as you stare up at him. xavier is standing right between your legs again, his shirtless chest heaving, his face bare inches from yours. 

sensing your stunned silence, the pathetic loser instantly panics.

“i—i'm sorry,” xavier stammers out. his scowl is deep, pained, fighting his own greedy instincts. “i didn't mean to—to push you like that. i just... i really want you to stay. and... uh... shit. fuck it.”

he swallows hard, his lower lip quivering as his gaze drops down to your covered lap.

”i really want to fuck you. right here.”

you stare at him, stunned. did he just...? did you hear him right? 

he swallows again, licking his lips. “i... i really want to pound my dick inside you until you see stars.”

“what the fuck?”

“sorry,” he blurts out immediately, his voice cracking as the realization of his own sudden aggression catches up to his fried brain. “i don't... i don't know where that suddenly came from.”

you stare up at him, your chest heaving as the initial shock wears off. a slow little smile pulls at the corners of your lips, the absolute thrill of having this untouchable outcast completely at your mercy giving you back your teeth. “is that what you really want, xavier? you want to fuck me right here in the dirt?”

xavier lets out a long ragged breath, his forehead dropping down to press heavily against yours. his eyes squeeze shut, his long eyelashes wet with a fine sheen of panicked tears as his hands blindly rush down to the waistband of your shorts. “yes,” he whimpers, his fingers clumsily fumbling with the button and zipper all over again with a frantic speed. “yes, fuck... please...”

before you can even utter another mocking remark about his lack of technique, xavier grips your hips and shoves you fully down against the flat wooden surface of the makeshift high chair. with a sudden heave of his arms, he hoists your legs right back up into the air, pinning them wide apart on his shoulders. 

“xavier... wait...” but he doesn't give you much time to adjust.

with a low, shaking curse—”fuck, fuck, it hurts so much”—his fingers dive into the front of his cargo jorts. he yanks the fabric down just enough to finally set his dick free. it springs out, thick, violently throbbing, and heavily glistening with the messy cum that had been soaking through his clothes the entire time.

he doesn't even know how to line himself up properly. he blindly presses the tip against your lower lips, and with one uncoordinated thrust of his hips, xavier slides right into your tight heat.

“ahhhhh, fuck!~”

a loud moan tears from his throat, a messy, echoing symphony of pathetic noises that reverberates through the vicinity. his entire body goes completely rigid the second your tight walls swallow him, his eyes rolling back as he immediately begins to thrust, his movements erratic, frantic, and entirely devoid of any seasoned rhythm.

your hands fly out to grip the edges of the wood, your head snapping back as a sharp gasp cuts through your throat. “x-xavier—wait, shit, you're so thick...” you can feel the heavy weight of his shaft still crowding against your outer lips. “a-are you... are you even fully in?”

xavier lets out a pathetic sob, his chest heaving violently against yours as he hitches your legs even higher on his shoulders. 

“n-no... it's not all the way in,” he gives a short, shallow twitch of his hips, his knuckles turning white where they’re anchoring into your thighs. “if i... if i push it all the way in, i'm going to—i'm going to fucking pound you until i cum. it's too tight. you're so fucking hot—”

“then do it, pound me until you cum. show me what you've got.”

the directive completely snaps the last thread of his sanity.

grunting, xavier leans all the way down, burying his face into the crook of your neck as he slams his hips forward with everything he has. he presses himself all the way in, burying his entire length into your pussy until you could feel the fucking tip hit you at the spot. “xav—shit!”

xavier turns into a completely unhinged moaning mess above you, trembling violently as he begins to frantically drive himself back and forth into your wetness. he is ridiculously tearing up, actual drops of sweat and panicked moisture spilling from his eyes onto your skin as his hips hit you with a sloppy, uncoordinated force.

slap. slap. squelch.

“f-fuck... yes, like that... look how well you take my dick,” he whimpers into your ear, his tongue darting out to blindly lick your jaw in a messy, wet display of affection. “you're taking all of it... you're stretching around me so good... shit, shit, this is all i've ever wanted. this is fucking it...”

he hooks his arms under your knees, lifting your legs even higher and spreading them brutally wide apart until your thighs are pressed nearly flat against his ribs. the angle is completely unshielded, forcing your womanhood to open up to its absolute limit as he drives back into you.

slap! slap! squelch!

he isn't moving with that hesitant, stuttering rhythm anymore. xavier has completely lost his mind to the friction, his hips slamming into you faster, harder, until the rough wood of the makeshift chair groans beneath your weight. he is an absolutely unhinged mess above you, his torso slick with a heavy sheet of sweat that glitters under the amber bulb. tears slide down his flushed cheeks, dripping directly onto your chest, but he doesn't care. he just allows himself to pound into your tight heat like a fucking machine.

it's so intense, so fiercely deep, that it catches you completely off guard. for a second, it’s like he isn't even a virgin anymore; he’s a starved pervert who has suddenly found the exact cadence to tear you apart. your fingers claw into his shoulders, your toes curling in the air as you try to hold back your noises, biting your lip until it hurts.

but xavier notices. 

with a grunt, he leans down and bites hard on the sweet spot where your neck meets your shoulder. the sharp sting of his teeth forces a high-pitched yelp right out of you, your hips involuntarily bucking upward into his heavy groin.

“d-don't... don't hide it,” he pants heavily into your skin, pulling back just enough to drive himself all the way to the hilt again. “let me hear you... fuck, you're so tight, your pussy is clamping down on me so hard... it's wrapping around my dick...”

his hips keep hammering into you, a relentless punishing pace that turns your insides into pure mush.

plap! plap! plap!

“give me everything,“ xavier whispers, a frantic sob catching in his throat. “give me everything... give me everything... give me it... give me you...”

his voice begins to fade, squeezing into a tight, strained wheeze as the overwhelming friction starts to drag him toward the edge. his movements grow shorter, more violent, his hips twitching in tight desperate jerks while he buries his face back into the crook of your neck.

“just like that... fuck, yeah, just like that... just like that...” 

he is fucking you silly, driving into your tight heat with a relentless speed that turns the small bamboo corner into a blur of heavily wet impacts. the sheer, unbridled force of his hips slamming against yours makes both of you practically see stars, your eyes rolling back as the muffled bass from the beach party fades into absolute white noise.

“f-fuck... ~ah, ah!~” xavier wails directly into your neck, his teeth grazing your skin while his pace hits a punishing peak.

suddenly, his fingers dig into your thighs with a bruising grip, his toes clawing into the dark sand below. with a loud, choked-out sob, he drives himself all the way to the absolute hilt, spasming, his thick length hitting your womb repetitively.

and just like that, he comes thoroughly deep inside you, a massive release that pulses hard against your walls over and over again. your chest heaves, a shattered breathless moan tearing from your throat as you take the full brunt of his climax. shit, that felt so goddamn good.

for a long minute, the only sound in the enclosure is the ragged overlapping pattern of your breathing. xavier stays slumped against you, his forehead resting on your shoulder, his chest heaving like a runner at the end of a marathon.

and then slowly, with a trembling grunt, he makes an effort to pull himself out. the sudden separation makes you let out a soft, aching whimper. as his thick shaft slips free, it reveals a glistening strain of liquids from the both of you—a messy, thick combination of your squirt and his hot release—that instantly gushes out, dripping down the dark wood of the makeshift high chair and splashing lazily onto the dark sand below.

xavier stares down at the mess between your legs, his mouth parted.

“fuck,” he curses under his breath, pushing his damp blonde hair back. “what the fuck... it... it really did happen. oh god.”

you let out an exhausted groan, bracing your elbows against the rough wood to painfully sit back up. your legs are still trembling, completely numb from the weight of his pace. you look straight into xavier’s eyes.

“are you... are you really even a virgin, xavier?” you pant, your voice dripping with a mix of genuine disbelief and lingering malice. “what the hell was that? you didn't move like one at all at the end.”

xavier flinches slightly at your words, his long eyelashes fluttering rapidly as he looks away.

“y-yeah, i told you, i am,” he looks down at his ruined, stained cargo jorts, his bottom lip quivering slightly before he forces himself to look back up at you. “i just... i didn't know what suddenly came over me. i just... felt like... fucking you like that. because you were being so mean.”

“well,” you breathe out, your voice still a little raspy from the screaming he forced out of you. you reach down, slowly dragging your underwear and denim shorts back up your thighs, the fabric sticking slightly against your skin. “that was... definitely something, xavier. guess you don't need to practice on your pillows anymore.”

the mocking barb is meant to give you your armor back, but xavier doesn't snap back with his usual cold defensive drone. instead, he just lets out a small breathless huff, his lower lip twitching into a tiny, pathetic line that looks almost like a sulk.

“shut up,” he mutters, the curse completely devoid of any real heat. he reaches down to awkwardly pull up the waist of his jorts, his long, pale fingers still trembling so hard he can barely button them. “don't... don't say it like that.”

you hop down from the wooden surface, your feet sinking into the cool sand. your knees give a dangerous, wobbly shake the second they take your weight, and you have to blindly reach out and plant a hand against his bare shoulder to keep from dropping right back down. xavier instantly freezes under your touch but he doesn't pull away. his large hand instinctively hovers near your waist, ready to catch you if you trip.

“wow, still such a helpful little bunny.”

xavier swallows hard, “are you... are you really going back to the resort?” he asks, his voice dropping into that small, needy whisper again. “right now?”

“i have to,” you murmur, finally pulling your hand off his shoulder and stepping past him toward the narrow exit of the bamboo stalks. “my friends are probably wondering if i fell into the ocean. and you need to go wash those pants before someone thinks you spilled a whole drink on yourself.” 

he lets out a faint, flustered groan behind you, but he doesn't try to stop you this time.

as you take a step out into the open air, the loud throbbing bass of the beach party hits you full force, a stark contrast to the mess you’re leaving behind. you pause for just a second, tilting your head back over your shoulder to look at him one last time. xavier is still standing in the shadow of the bamboo, looking like an absolute freak—completely disheveled, beautifully flushed, and entirely ruined for any other girl on campus.