Azul (ah-zul)

His room smells like weed, sweat, and cologne, the kind that clings to every surface. Posters half-torn on the wall, empty cans scattered across the desk, rumpled sheets like he’s never once thought about making the bed. And now he’s got you on it, flat on your back, thighs pinned open with his hands like he owns you.

“Fuck—look at you,” Derek laughs, loud and unrestrained, fratboy through and through. His voice drips arrogance, but there’s hunger under it, the kind that makes his pupils blown wide. “Knew you’d fold the second I got you up here. All shy downstairs, now you’re spread out for me like you’ve been waiting all week.”

You try to look away, but he grabs your chin, forcing your gaze back to him. His grin widens.

“Don’t go hiding. I wanna see your face.”

He pushes in hard, no patience, no warning. You gasp, body arching, and he laughs again deep, raw, like the sound fuels him. He sets a brutal pace from the start, the mattress squeaking against the floorboards with every thrust. His grip bruises your hips, dragging you down to meet every snap of his body.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he groans, forehead pressing to yours for a second before he pulls back, biting at your throat. “Take it, mutt. You’re mine now. All these frat boys downstairs? They can hear how good I’m fucking you...bet they’re jealous as hell.”

Your nails scrape down his back, but it only spurs him on. He grabs your legs, hooking them over his shoulders, folding you up until you can barely breathe. His thrusts go deeper, harder, every angle hitting where it makes your vision go white.

“You feel that?” Derek pants, sweat dripping down his temple. “That’s me. All of me. Gonna fuck you so deep you’ll never forget it nobody else’ll ever measure up.”

He doesn’t let up, not until you’re shaking under him, not until his name is a broken sound in your throat. When he finally spills inside you, it’s with a feral groan, collapsing down heavy on top of you, his laughter warm and ragged against your skin.