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Keeping Secrets

Story commission for: MightyPH, named characters mentioned in the story belong to him.

“Ugh, five more minutes mom, please,” you groan as you hear the familiar blare of the alarm clock on your nightstand.

As your eyelids flutter and your blurred vision slowly adjusts itself to your sunlit surroundings, you realize you’re not back home with your family. Instead, you’re splayed out on the bed of your cramped dorm room, fondly reminiscing on what your life used to be like before college. A smile slowly replaces the frown on your face as you think back to all the times your mom had to drag you out of bed in the morning just so you could make it to school on time. Even as these happy memories run through your head, you can’t help but feel a bit homesick when you think of just how far you are from your hometown. It's a bittersweet feeling, being so far away from your beloved friends and family. You can still remember how it felt when your mother suddenly pulled the sheets off your sleeping body every morning, how the cold jolts that ran through you made you want to rush into the bathroom for a warm shower. While you would moan and complain about being woken up so early, the smell of cooking breakfast was usually enough to lift your spirits as you trudged to the bathroom. You thought you would’ve enjoyed your newfound independence a lot more, but the reality of things is far bleaker. You’re reminded exactly how bleak your situation is when you shift slightly and feel wetness touch your bare skin, running a finger over a few damp, tear-stained spots on your pillow. Sometimes your feelings welled up to the point where you couldn’t stop yourself from sobbing as you thought about just how much you miss your family back home. It’s something you didn’t want to burden your family with and so you didn’t dare mention a word about it to them. Anybody could’ve told you that you are suffering from a severe case of homesickness, but you don’t want to give up on your new life so soon, opting to tough it out and slowly grow accustomed to things no matter how much you wanted to cave in and go back home at times. You do your best to push the offending thoughts from your head before taking a quick glance at your alarm clock, quickly tossing the sheets aside once you realize you only have half an hour before class starts.

While it is only your second week living on campus, you felt as if you were slowly growing accustomed to the way things worked. You’d managed to secure a one person dorm for yourself, which came with a few advantages despite some of the downsides regarding size. At least you weren’t going to have any roommate horror stories to tell at the end of your semester, which allowed you to get the piece of mind and solitude that you thrived in. You’d graduated high school with excellent grades and you didn’t plan to let the many distractions college had to offer change that, finding solace in your dorm room when it came time to study or finish an assignment. Despite its small size, you’ve done your best to make your dorm a cozy environment, putting up some of your favorite posters and framed pictures you’d brought from home throughout the dorm room. The kitchen area is nothing short of a joke though, an area so small that you could hardly turn around without banging your knee on something, which you have done several times in the week you’d been living here. At least you have a mini fridge and a microwave, everything a growing college student needs to nourish themselves.

Then there's the matter of your morning ritual, which by this point you have nearly nailed down to a science. You make a beeline to the bathroom and strip down to your fair-skinned birthday suit before jumping into the shower. While some might consider it a strange habit, you prefer to shower with near-scalding water, just hot enough to turn your bathroom into a makeshift sauna as you shower. The ritual has surprisingly done wonders for your complexion over the years, a fact you are reminded of each time you looked at your reflection in the mirror. The warm water running down your skin chases off the mental fog that accompanies such an early rise, feeling revitalized as the warmth spreads throughout your body. You reach for the shampoo and pour a generous glob onto your hand, gently working it into your long and silky black hair. While showering is arguably the best part of your morning, you quickly rush through the rest of it for fear of breaking your perfect attendance to morning lecture. Blindly sticking one hand out past the shower curtain you reach for your bathrobe, another thing in a never-ending list of things that remind you of home, and quickly throw it on yourself before securing it around your waist. Turning on the hairdryer, you dry your hair as best you can before hurriedly fashioning it into your trademark braided hairstyle. After hastily applying some perfume to your neck and brushing your teeth, you head back into the common area to find some clothes to throw on. Rummaging through your closet yields no results for a while, until you spot a short-sleeved black t-shirt and some white skinny jeans buried underneath a pile of other clothing. You take an almost longing glance at your fridge, your stomach growling as you sling your bag over your shoulder and collect your personal belongings, locking the dorm behind you as you head to class.

Skipping breakfast to make it to class on time isn’t ideal, but that is nothing a quick stop to the dining hall after your first lecture couldn’t fix. You keep taking quick glances at your watch as you walk, easing into a power walk when you realize you only have a couple of minutes before you’re considered late to lecture. While attendance isn’t mandatory just the thought of having everyone’s eyes on your as you make your way to your seat was enough to make you nauseous, butterflies dancing in your stomach as you reach the massive door to the lecture hall. The professor quickly made it clear that he didn’t care much about where people sat, so long as asses were in seats by the time the lecture started. You’d since then opted to sit in the penultimate row whenever possible, giving you an ample view of the massive whiteboard and the rest of the students. He seems engrossed in his work, occasionally stopping his writing on the board to glance down at the textbook in his hand, presumably to have the first set of notes on the board before the lecture officially starts. You rummage through your bag for several moments before finally finding your glasses, putting them on so you can better make out his scribbles. An excellent professor he may be, but his handwriting is nigh unintelligible even from the front row. Something that has occasionally caused you to miss things in your notes. While economics isn’t your favorite subject, it is one you really needed to pay attention to if you wanted to succeed in your business major. An advantage of sitting near the back row is that it allowed you to partake in people watching, something you’ve come to enjoy doing even if it is as minute as making predictions about who’s come to be friends or couples throughout the semester. Admittedly, it is kind of a weird habit of yours. Something you’d picked up in high school to alleviate bouts of boredom and hadn’t stopped doing since.

Continuing to scan the classroom for any interesting activity, your gaze finally lands on him. You quickly avert your eyes once you become increasingly aware that you’re boring a hole into the back of his head with your stare. You feel ashamed to admit it, but ever since that particular anthro guy had stepped into class on the first day you had your eyes on him. Even with all your staring, you still haven’t quite figured out what species he is, though by the shape of his ears and muzzle you guess some kind of canine, yet the curved and charcoal colored horns protruding from his head kind of throws you off. The mix of goat-like horns along with ears that looked like they belonged on a jackal really confuse you, especially since you’ve never seen that combination on any anthro before. To make matters worse, you can’t figure out exactly what about him drew your attention, it isn’t like he is particularly muscular or handsome, but something about his deep red eyes and unusual hairstyle draws your gaze. Maybe it is the contrast of white and grayish, bordering on black fur that covered his body? Whatever the reason, you can’t stop ogling him throughout the lecture. Distracted by your staring, you hadn’t realized the lecture had started, quickly reaching for the pen and notebook in the bag next to you as you began taking notes.

“Class, if you could please pull out your textbooks and turn to page 148 and mark it down for future reference, that’ll be the start of what we’ll be covering throughout this week.” The professor says while he continues to write on the whiteboard that spans nearly the entire width of the room.

You absentmindedly continue to take notes, straining your eyes to try to understand the scribbles on the board all while sneaking occasional glances at the anthro currently occupying your thoughts. The next time you stopped taking notes to look at him again those deep crimson pools meet yours, staring right back at you with a sly, almost predatory grin forming on his facial features. You quickly look away and stare down at your notebook, feeling your cheeks burn as you slink downwards into your seat in an attempt to hide your flustered expression from him, mentally berating yourself for not being more inconspicuous about your activities. After a few minutes pass you muster up the courage to take another glance, relief washing over you once you confirm he’s facing the front of the room. Had you really being that obvious in your ogling this past week that he has caught on to your intent so easily? You think back to your behavior in class the week before, but nothing stands out to you as something that would come across as you being into him, at least in your mind. Maybe a friend of his had noticed you daydreaming about him and let him know about it? You take a deep breath to calm yourself down, realizing you were probably being paranoid about the entire situation. It is just a coincidence that he happened to be looking back at you mid-lecture, right? Probably just bored out of his mind, or at least you hope that is the case. You continue hurriedly taking notes throughout the lecture, occasionally looking up from your notebook to pay attention to the professor’s detailed explanation on the current slide of the presentation. About five minutes before the lecture is slated to be over, the professor snaps his fingers loudly to get everyone’s attention.

“Just as a quick reminder to you all, please make sure to check the bulletin board in the halls to find out who you’ve been assigned as a partner for your first group project,” he explains, pointing at the lecture hall doors as he continues to speak. “It’s not due until November, but if I were you I’d get an early start as it will count for a significant portion of your final grade in my class.”

You weren’t expecting to be participating in a group project this early on in the semester. But you don’t exactly mind it either, eager for the opportunity to impress your professor. If you could manage that then maybe he could help open up some opportunities in your career path down the line. It is worth a shot, especially since you don’t want to end up working a dead end job after graduation. Better to make a good first impression and do things right the first time, right?

“If you have any questions about the assignment or have issues with the partner you were assigned please come see me during office hours,” he continues, pointing to the whiteboard showing said hours. “You’re dismissed early today. I hope to see you all again tomorrow afternoon.”

You hastily toss your notebook and pen into your bag, and then quickly make your way to the aforementioned bulletin boards before people start crowding around them. While you might not be the tallest or most athletic girl you can kick your legs into overdrive when needed, ending up among the first five people to make it to the bulletin board. You can feel people bumping into you as you search for your name on among the massive list, running your finger on the piece of paper until you finally spot your name, Sophia Robinson. And you were paired with... Taylor Taylor? You don’t remember a Taylor in your class, so after making your way through the massive crowd that had formed you started calling out the name to see if he was around.

“Taylor? Is anyone here named Taylor? I’m looking for a Taylor,” you say, raising your voice each time you repeat the name.

All you feel is a gentle tap on your shoulder before you hear whoever is behind you speak. “Yeah, I’m Taylor, what do you need?”

You smile before turning around to chat with your to-be partner on this group project, but once you get a good look at who they are you freeze up. Of all goddamn people you could’ve been paired with, why did it have to be him? Were you such a cruel person in a past life that you deserved such terrible things to happen to you in this one? He is taller than you by a few inches as well, making you tilt your head up slightly to look him in the eyes, that sly smile you’d seen earlier making a return once he gets a good look at who you are.

“Looks like we- we’re uh, partners on this project,” you stutter out, berating yourself for turning into a mess around him. “Nice to meet you, my name’s Sophia.”

“Nice to meet you too Sophia, though I don’t think I’ve seen you around before.”

“Well, they do pack like two hundred of us in that lecture hall, easy to get in the crowd, right?” you say, trying to compose yourself after your embarrassment of a first impression.

“Yeah, I guess that’s true,” he says, slipping his hands into the pockets of his baggy hoodie. “So do you want to work on it soon or leave it for another time? I’ll be honest and say I haven’t been paying much attention though, so I could use some help there.”

“I’ve got class real soon and I wanted to stop by the dining hall, but if you want to hand me your number we can talk it over later.”

“Sure, just put your number in here,” he says, pulling out and unlocking his phone before handing it to you. “Don’t think I have anything to do this afternoon if you’re not busy then.”

“I’ll have to see if I’m busy or not then, I’ll get back to you on that one,” you say as you tap your phone number into his contacts, doing your best to hide the slight tremble in your hands as you do. After some time you hand his phone back to him and flash him a warm smile before turning to leave towards the dining hall. “See you around.”

“See ya,” he says, smiling back and waving his hand slightly in return.

You really area klutz sometimes, berating yourself once more for the way you handled that situation, stuttering like an idiot in front of a guy you barely even knew. It is hard to deny you were into him, but you aren’t exactly the type to ask guys out since you have absolutely no experience doing so, typically resorting to waiting until guys show interest in you before you do anything resembling making a move.

Your stomach growls again and you pick up the pace so you can have a relaxing meal before you have to be bored to tears in your next class. Literature 101, the most exciting course college has to offer, and you have to sit through three lectures a week of it at a time of day when most people can’t even muster two brain cells to rub together.

As you step into the dining hall your senses are assaulted by all the wonderful smells wafting around. While the variety is nothing to write home about the quality of the food is pretty good for what basically amounts to a cafeteria for adults. You walk around for a little while and grab whatever looks good to your hungry brain, choosing a wrapped turkey sandwich, a small bowl of cereal and a tall glass of orange juice. After swinging by the cash register to swipe your student ID for payment, you look for a table to sit at and enjoy your meal. You don’t recognize anyone since you haven’t exactly made many friends yet, but right now you feel like enjoying your meal in silence so you make your way to the nearest empty table and plop your bag and food down. Eager to tear into your food, you start to unwrap the turkey sandwich and take a big bite. Nothing like the ones your mom used to pack for you in high school, but certainly not bad either. As you continue to eat your thoughts wander to the group project, debating whether to get a head start or deal with it much later in the semester.

On one hand it’d mean not leaving things for last minute as you sometimes tended to do with classwork, but on the other hand, it’d mean spending a lot of alone time with Taylor, which you don’t think you were mentally prepared for at the moment. You almost consider telling the professor you need another partner for this project, but what excuse are you going to give him that didn’t sound fake or petty? Giving Taylor a call after your afternoon classes is probably for the best, maybe set up a time to work on the project in your... dorm. Why is inviting him to your dorm to work on the project your first line of thought? There are so many places you could work, like the library or one of the many open collaboration rooms dotted around your campus. Sometimes you didn’t even know why they needed so many, but the school was quite well funded judging from the sheer size of the lecture halls and athletic facilities. You take a quick glance at your watch to see how much time you have left before your next class, finishing the rest of your sandwich as you do. Surprised to find out you still had twenty minutes left before your next class you take a leisurely pace in finishing your cereal and downing the tall glass of orange juice. After you’re finished, you grab your bag and make your way back into the now empty halls.

You aren’t particularly looking forward to enduring another two-hour literature session, especially since you see it almost as a pointless class for your major of choice, but when are required courses ever not something you put yourself through for a good cause? Luckily it seems like you made it to class just in time, being among the last few students to file into the lecture hall, looking around for somewhere comfortable to sit. Before you can decide on a place something catches your eye. Taylor waves you over to an empty seat next to him, that same friendly, charming smile on his face. You can’t manage to find a different seat in the back row that is open and you don’t want to sit in the front while slacking off. The tiny bit of torture and embarrassment you’d have to endure by sitting next to him is worth it for a seat in the very back row. You quickly make your way up the stairs to the top row and sit down next to him.

“What happened to grabbing something to eat?” he asks as you plop your bag down in front of your feet. “Looks like you even had time to spare.”

“What’s it matter to you?” you respond, a little more angrily than you had intended.

“Hey, whoa, didn’t mean to offend or anything, I was just wondering,” he says, putting both his furred hands up in defense.

“Sorry, just kind of stressed out about something and I didn’t sleep too great last night,” you say as you rummage through your bag for a notebook, pen and literature textbook.

“No worries,” he shoots back, fishing out a loose piece of paper before looking back at you with an inquisitive expression on his facial features. “Hey, you got a pen I can borrow by chance?”

“So much for coming to class prepared, huh?” you tease, fishing through your bag for another pencil. “You can have this one.”

“Don’t pretend like you want to be in this class either, Miss back row,” he says, snatching the pencil from your hand. “Thanks though.”

“No problem.”

Not that you are paying much attention in the first place, but it felt like the lecture is going by at a snail’s pace, staring at the presentation projected on the board but absorbing absolutely none of the information, absentmindedly twirling your pen in your hand as the professor continues their explanation. You look to your left for a moment and see Taylor with a bored expression akin to the one you were wearing just moments ago, looking down at the piece of paper in front of him only to find he’d been scribbling doodles down throughout the entirety of the lecture. They’re surprisingly well drawn too, portraits of random people strewn about the lecture hall, some with sillier expressions than others. Talented and handsome, a deadly combination for most, hell, even for yourself. You are almost curious enough to crane your neck a bit to see if he has drawn you by chance, but you decide against it for fear of giving away the fact that you have been peeking at his drawings, lest you start another conversation in which you embarrass yourself. At least he is doing something productive despite not paying attention to the lecture, which is far more than you can say for yourself. You decide to follow his example somewhat and actually try to take down some notes so you could save yourself the headache of having to borrow them from someone else later on. How could someone who seems like a bad influence simultaneously be a good one?

By the time class ends you’ve filled two pages with your terrible handwriting, but at least you’ve gotten enough on the page to satisfy your want to be prepared for anything this class threw at you in the future. Despite it having not gone so terribly you want nothing more than to distance yourself from Taylor for fear you’ll cock things up like you did the first time you talked to him, but you are quickly interrupted by a tap on your shoulder as you began to walk away.

“Hey, here’s your pencil back,” he says, flashing you that smile that is almost enough to make you feel weak in the knees.

“Oh, almost forgot about it, thanks,” you say, returning the smile with enthusiasm.

“Can’t go around getting a reputation as a pencil thief, now can I?” he laughs before bending down to grab his bag and sling it over his shoulder. “Did you figure out when you wanted to work on that project? Don’t mean to rush you or anything, but I’d like to get it done before my other classes start getting difficult.”

You crack a smile at his odd sense of humor before responding. “How does tomorrow sound? Could probably make some time at around four if nothing else comes up.”

“Sound good, where do you want to meet? My place or yours?”

You think it over for a moment and decide meeting somewhere neutral was probably for the best since you don’t know each other very well. It isn’t that you didn’t trust him, but the idea of inviting a stranger to see your unkempt dorm is something you aren’t exactly looking forward to doing. Maybe you’d tidy up the place a bit in anticipation for a future- You stop yourself for a moment and think about why exactly you’re thinking so far into the future for something that’s supposed to just be studying together for a project. “How about we just meet at the library? There’s private rooms for studying and collaboration we can use there, plus I’ll bring my laptop in case we need to look anything up while we’re there.”

“Sounds good to me, though I think I’ll probably bring my laptop as well just in case, I don’t have a physical copy of the textbook because fuck paying three hundred dollars for a book,” he replies, a hint of disdain in his voice.

You can’t help but agree, despite the fact that you’ve been forced to pay a similar amount for the textbook you used in your design class. “Alright, so I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“It’s a date,” he says, flashing that cocky smile he’d flashed at you earlier. “See you around.”

Even though you know he said it in jest, you can’t help but have the word stuck in your head as you walked back to your dorm room. Date. You can’t even remember the last you’d been on a real date with a guy, though you are far from inexperienced in the matter. Since your focus during your last few years of high school was cramming your schedule with extracurriculars and AP courses to impress colleges, you’d seldom had time to pursue any romantic interests, though that wasn’t to say you didn’t have any during that time. You’d missed out on flings with a lot of cute guys as a result of trying to be the perfect student for college admissions departments. The effort and abstinence from the romantic had paid off though, as you’d gotten a good portion of your tuition paid for by a very generous scholarship you’d applied for. Unfortunately, you are going to have to continue working hard in order to keep it, having to maintain a high grade point average in order to continue receiving funding. Which is why it is so important to you that this collaboration went as smoothly as possible, especially since it counted for so much of your final grade.

You unlock the door to your dorm and head in, setting your bag down onto the counter before opening up your fridge and reaching for a tub of yogurt. After serving yourself a generous portion in a bowl, you set it down on the coffee table in front of your small couch, pulling a blanket over yourself before picking up your laptop. You open the laptop and quickly opened Netflix, looking for something to watch and help pass the time as you eat. As boring as people thought they were, you quite enjoyed food and travel shows. You put on one that catches your eye before grabbing your bowl and digging in. It isn’t anything special, but the mix of yogurt, granola, and assorted berries reminds you of home, a treat your mom always made you when you were feeling down or sick. It is barely the start of the semester and you are already looking forward to going home for the holidays. At least you have tomorrow to look forward to, finding what you hopefully thought was a friend in Taylor, despite you thoroughly embarrassing yourself in front of him as a first impression. After finishing the movie, you get up to wash your bowl before settling down at your small desk to try and plan out the rest of your week.

Whipping out the schedule you’d printed out over the weekend, you unfold the paper and take a look at how many lectures you have scheduled for tomorrow. One early in the morning, one at noon and what looks like a three-hour gap between the end of that one before your final lecture for the day. So if you were going to have a study session with Taylor, you’d have to schedule it during that lull between classes. You’ve never met anyone as eager to get an early start on projects, so it is certainly a welcome change of pace to meet someone as studious as you. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t looking forward to the chance to talk to him again, and maybe leave a better impression than the disaster of a conversation you’d had with him today. Plus, it isn’t like you had guys lining up for the chance to talk to you, so it is a welcome opportunity to make a new guy friend. Even though it does feel kind of dirty to be using something as innocent as a project under the guise of getting closer to a guy, you aren’t totally against the idea. After making a small note on your schedule and setting a reminder for tomorrow about your study session, you look down at your wrist to check the time. A quarter till seven doesn't seem that terribly late, but you've gotten accustomed to getting to bed early since settling into your dorm.

You rummage through your drawers, looking for some comfortable sleepwear, simultaneously entertaining the thought of showering again before bed. You eventually settle on a set of pajamas your mother had snuck into the clothes you’d packed for college. While they’re pretty childish and girly looking and you weren’t entirely sure you were ever going to wear them, it was nice to have found them. You feel happy that your mom had thought to pack them, as it was basically a piece of home you could have with you. You climb into bed and set an early alarm for the following morning so you will have time to actually take a shower and have breakfast without feeling like someone is pushing you out the door. After setting down your phone, you throw the covers over yourself and shift around until you find a comfortable position. Settled in, you close your eyes in an attempt to drift to sleep.

-

Another day, another boring morning lecture to sit through, you think to yourself as you go through the motions of trying to take notes from the almost illegible scribbles the professor leaves on the whiteboard. You’d think that with a lecture hall of this size, they’d at least use the projector so that people sitting in the back could also take notes, but apparently, it was too much to ask for from a university with thirty thousand students. You are in an undeniably bad mood since you slept straight through your alarm, missing breakfast and the much needed hot shower you skipped the night before. And to top things off, you made it to class late enough that everyone had their eyes on you as you shamefully took a seat in the final row of the hall. Though there is one, albeit small, silver lining in all of this, Taylor hadn’t shown up to lecture that morning, much to your relief. You did some more people-watching in between your professor's ramblings, spotting a few people doing little more than goofing off on their laptops and phones, not pretending to pay even the slightest bit of attention to the materials. And who could blame them? Nobody looked like they wanted to be in lecture, especially at this ungodly hour.

You could just get up and leave, but you were determined to at least get the notes down so you could absorb the information later, despite the temptation rising every time you see another person leave the lecture early. Not that your growling stomach is helping things either. You didn’t even have the time earlier in the morning to grab something as simple as a bowl of granola.

As the lecture proceeds, you take an occasional glance at your watch, hoping the class will come to an end before you succumb to your boredom. Luckily, the gods listen to your prayers and the professor turns around to address the room.

“That about wraps things up for today, hopefully, you guys take good notes as we will be covering this subject for a few weeks. If you have any questions, my office hours are now posted outside for you to see. You’re dismissed early.”

You go outside and head straight for the bulletin board, noting down the office hours on your phone for future reference. One class down, two more left, you think to yourself as you rush down the halls to your next lecture, not even having the luxury of swinging by the mess hall to grab something to quell your hunger. At least the next class isn’t so bad, a biology class you are sure you can pass with your eyes closed. You take your seat before pulling out a small recording device. You figure being able to find the exact lecture you need when you have to cram for midterms will be handy. Another advantage is that it lets you goof off on social media while everyone else takes notes. You’re busy scrolling through your twitter feed when you feel a light tap on your shoulder, and look up in frustration to see who wants your attention.

“What do you w-” you start before silencing yourself once you see who it is.

Way to go, setting out to make a good second impression with Taylor and the first thing you do when you finally run into him again? Snap at him for doing something as innocent as tapping you on the shoulder.

“Hey, you mind if I sit here?” he asks, pointing to the backpack you’d put in the seat next to you.

“N-no, not at all,” you smile, hoping to make up for the massive blunder.

You grab the backpack and place it between your legs so he can take a seat next to you. He eyes you for a moment and then shifts his attention to the recorder on your desk before nodding towards it.

“What’s that you got there?”

“Oh nothing, just something I use to record lectures sometimes,” you say, picking it up and handing it to him. “Comes in handy when I feel like slacking off or I can’t understand a word the professor is saying.”

“Cool, I should get one of these for myself,” he says, giving the device a thorough examination and nodding appreciatively before handing it back to you.

“So, why weren’t you in Mr. Peterson’s class this morning?”

“I didn’t think you cared enough to notice that I was gone,” he smirks, tapping his pencil on his desk rhythmically. “Was out late with some friends last night so I slept off campus and got caught by the traffic on the way to class this morning. Did I miss anything important?”

“Not really, just more of the same stuff we covered yesterday,” you say, making sure to turn the recording device on. “If you want to borrow my notes, just let me know and I’ll send them to you.”

“I’ll have to keep it in mind,” he says before rummaging through his backpack and pulling out a pen and notebook. “At least I won’t have to bum a pencil off you today.”

“Baby steps, right?”

The rest of the lecture passes uneventfully, but at least you manage to strike up a conversation with Taylor to pass the time. You decide it’d be the polite thing to wait up for him at the exit so you could ask if he is available for a study session, seeing as you have a few hours before your next class. Despite waiting what seems like almost ten minutes, you haven’t seen him leave the classroom quite yet. You peeked your head into the classroom and see him sitting next to the professor, having what seemed like a heated conversation. As curious as you are, you quickly decide to pull your head out of the doorway, knowing it isn’t any of your business to hear what they are talking about. Ten minutes quickly turned into twenty, then thirty and when you are finally about to give up on the prospect of talking to him in favor of grabbing something to eat, Taylor finally emerges from the lecture hall. You can feel the frustration radiate from him, his expression telling you everything you need to know. He does his best to mask it once he sees you waiting just around the corner, but you’ve already seen his true mood.

“Hey. You… haven’t been waiting for me this whole time, have you?” he says, stuffing his furred hands into his baggy hoodie as he slowly approaches you. “Don’t want you to be late to your next class or anything.”

You aren’t sure whether to lie or be truthful about things, knowing the thing he needs the least right now is to feel guilty for making you wait. While you aren’t the best judge of how people felt, he seems really torn up about whatever he and the professor were discussing.

“Nah, I haven’t been waiting very long, don’t worry about it,” you say, offering the warmest smile you can muster. “I don’t have another class for a few hours anyway. I did want to ask you something though.”

You see a little bit of his worry melt away at your reassurances. “Sure, what is it?”

“You got another class to get to? Was thinking we could squeeze in some work on the project right now, or at least get some planning done.”

He looks down to check his watch before shooting back a response. “Sure, I’ve got… about two hours to burn before I have another lecture. Where do you want to work on it?”

“Was thinking the library could work fine, I brought my laptop in case we need to look anything up,” you say, patting the bag slung over your shoulder. “Do you mind if we swing by the dining hall so I can grab something real quick though? I think my stomach is starting to eat itself.”

“Yeah, I could use something to eat as well,” he chuckles before pointing down the empty hallways. “Lead the way.”

Even with your brisk walking pace, it still took a good ten minutes for the two of you to reach the dining hall. Despite you having known Taylor for all of two days, it gives you a weird feeling of confidence to be seen at his side. Definitely a feeling you could get used to, not that you would ever admit it to him, of course. Hopefully, he didn’t catch on to it, doing your best to wipe off the grin on your face as you enter the dining hall and beeline towards the counter with an assortment of wrapped sandwiches on it. You made your selection and wait for him to do the same before heading over to grab a drink and pay for your meal. Sure, it is probably far cheaper to head back to your dorm and whip up something to eat, but you aren’t exactly keen on inviting some guy into your dorm or making him wait outside while you made yourself a sandwich. Your train of thought is interrupted as he speaks again after both of you have paid.

“You mind if we sit outside? Kind of feel like getting some fresh air after three hours of listening to the prof ramble,” he chuckles, turning towards the doors leading to the outside eating area.

“Not at all, never been out there before,” you admit, following his lead.

“Really now? This your first semester here?”

“Yeah, still getting used to where everything is on campus honestly, this place is huge.”

“Eh, I’m sure you’ll pick it up pretty soon, but if you need to know where anything is I’m your man.”

“I’ll definitely ask if I get lost somewhere,” you laugh as the two of you take your seats at one of the wooden tables.

In the week or so you’ve been going to the university you never once thought to eat outside, but you can probably chalk that one up to being in a rush to grab a bite to eat in between classes. It felt kind of nice to take in the surroundings, watching students cut through the well-manicured grass to rush into buildings in the hopes of getting to their next class on time. You aren’t exactly dressed in the appropriate clothing for the chilly weather, a shiver coursing through your body as the piercing wind brushes against your exposed arms. You try to ignore it and dig into your sandwich, but the wind only picks up as you continue to eat, gooseflesh erupting on arms as the breeze batters your skin. It ’s not like you don’t have any winter clothing, you’ve just been in such a rush this morning that you forgot to wear a coat much less a long sleeved shirt. Taylor seems to pick up on the fact that you are trembling like a leaf in the wind, looking over at you between bites of his own sandwich.

“You alright, Sophia? You’re looking a little cold there,” he says, staring at you as your teeth begin to chatter.

“I’m f-fine, don’t worry,” you say, rubbing at one of your arms in an attempt to warm yourself back up.

“Look, if you’re cold we can go sit inside instead, it’s really not a big deal,” he says, putting his hand on your shoulder. “Doesn’t bother me one bit, seriously.”

“I don’t want to impose, especially since you wanted to sit out here,” you say, moving to get up and go back inside. “I’ll go back inside, just come find me when you’re done, alright?”

You weren’t expecting him to put a hand on your shoulder, much less for him to start taking off his jacket. “Nah, you don’t have to do that. Just borrow my jacket, I have a sweater on anyways.”

He wraps the leather jacket around you and you instantly feel much better, the thick material stopping most of the cold from touching you. Your cheeks burn from the kind gesture, and you tilt your head to the side in an effort to obscure it from him. While guys have done nice things for you before, there is something embarrassing about letting a guy wrap you in his jacket. You can’t tell if people are just staring off at the crowds walking the campus or at the display you two you put on, but either way, you feel mortified about it.

“Better?” he asks, offering that damn warm smile of his. “If you’re still cold with that on then I think you might actually have a cold.”

“I’m much better now, thanks,” you smile back, picking at the remainder of your chips and sandwich as you wait for him to finish eating.

“No problem.”

Now that you think about it, you haven’t seen him without a jacket or coat on yet. So despite that nagging feeling in your brain that tells you ogling him is wrong, you steal a few glances while he’s preoccupied with his meal. With the way the fabric of the sweater clings to his muscular arms you can tell Taylor takes good care of himself but didn’t obsessively exercise like other guys you’ve met before. Another quick glance towards his midsection tells you that it wasn’t much of a different story when it came to that area, his pectorals bulging the fabric outwards. To you it seems like he almost exclusively works out his chest, his arms having little muscle definition by comparison. Before you could get a chance to steal another glance at his body, he finishes his meal and throws away all the trash that has accumulated on the wooden table. You wonder if he is always this kind or if he is just acting that way because of you, as self-centered as that thought is.

He looks down at his watch as he returns to where you were sitting. “We should probably get going, I’ve only got about an hour left to study with you.”

You are shocked that the two of you had spent an hour here already, but considering how slow you ate and the whole ordeal with his jacket it isn't impossible to believe. Not like you are doing anything too serious today anyways, the only thing you plan to do regarding the project is laying the groundwork.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” you say, getting up and removing the coat from yourself. “You can have this back now, I don’t need it anymore.”

“Don’t worry about it, you can hold on to it until we get to the library. Not that cold right now anyhow.”

With the coat draped over you, you bend down to pick up your bag before going on your way to the library. Unfortunately, the building was on the other side of campus so it cuts in even deeper into the little time the two of you have to spend together. Once you finally reach the library you stopped for a moment to scope out a good place to work undisturbed. It is a little far away from the racks, but you spot a medium-sized table with a power outlet nearby for your laptop. Perfect. After you get everything set up, you rummage through your bag for your notes from the class and the rubric for the project that you printed the night before.

“So…” you say, pushing up your glasses. “Got any idea on what we should take care of first? I was thinking we could outline everything to make it easier.”

“Honestly, I’m not that great with the subject,” he says, rubbing the back of his furred neck. “The only reason I’m in this class my second year is that I didn’t pass the first time around.”

“Well, that’s… okay,” you say, almost stumbling over the words. “I’m not an expert at it or anything, but I could maybe… tutor you if you want?”

“Really?” he asks, his voice cracking and betraying his calm outward demeanor. “Yeah, that’d be… great, honestly.”

“If you want to send me your schedule later we can work out where to fit in a tutoring session or two, I’d be happy to help. Plus, we can work on our project at the same time so it works out nicely.”

“Cool, I’ll make sure to send that to you later then. You sure it’s not a problem for you though? Don’t want to take up time out of your day if you’re busy.”

“Nah, but if I can’t make it to a session I’ll shoot you a message so you’re not left waiting on me. Let’s get this outline started then.”

For the minuscule amount of time the two of you have to work before getting back to your respective classes, you accomplish a surprising amount. You finished the outline and set up a google drive account that both of you could use to upload relevant research materials, references or information for the project. Taylor leaves, and you’re still in the library an hour later debating whether you have some time to spend in the stacks looking for something fun to read during the lulls between lectures. You look over to your phone and see you still have about an hour before class starts. What harm could getting lost in the stacks do, right? While the lecture halls are nothing to write home about, the library is clearly extremely well funded and maintained, top of the line workstations complete with drawing tablets and books as far as the eye could see. Even before you attended this school you’d heard about how nice it was, especially since they showcased it as a major selling point to attract people interested in animation, modeling, and architecture.

After what seems like an eternity of sifting through the stacks for something you might enjoy, a book finally catches your eye. From what you can tell from the cover art, it’s a romance novel, which is, unfortunately, a guilty pleasure of yours. There is only so much cheesiness you could tolerate from them though, so you decide to give the first few pages a read to decide whether you wanted to take this home with you or not. It’s actually pretty damn good for something from an author you didn’t recognize, flipping through pages like it was nothing as you continued to immerse yourself in the setting. You panic for a second before checking the time again. Fuck. You got so caught up in reading the silly romance novel that you completely forgot you have another lecture that day. There is no reason to panic just yet, you still have around 15 minutes to get to lecture hall… on the other side of campus. Shit. You quickly make your way to the front desk of the library, practically shoving the novel into the hands of the student manning said desk.

“Hey, can I check this book out?”

He looks down and quickly taps at this keyboard before looking back up to acknowledge you. “Sure, I’ll just need your student ID.”

You quickly unsling your bag and start to rummage through the pockets for an ID, coming up with nothing as you continued unzipping the various compartments. It doesn’t make sense that you can’t find it, you’d paid for your lunch using the ID. You pat down your pockets to see if you stashed it there, but to no avail. And you know for a fact you hadn’t left it where you and Taylor were sitting since you always made sure to triple check things when anything valuable is at stake.

“Can’t I just take it with me now and bring my ID later?” you plead, as you continue rummaging through your pockets. “I know I didn’t lose it, just not sure where it is and I’m going to be late to my next class if I don’t get a move on soon. Please.”

“Tell you what, you can take the book now as long as you bring me your ID by the end of the day. Just don’t forget, alright?”

“Thank you! Thank you so much,” you say, grabbing the book off the desk and shoving it into your backpack before walking away at a hurried pace.

“You’re welcome!” he says. You hear someone shush him as you swing the doors open to leave.

If you are being honest with yourself, you have no idea where you left the damn ID, but you are determined to get it to him by the end of the day. You decide mentally retracing your steps from the moment you paid for your lunch is a good start. You’d swiped your card at the register to pay for your meal, then you waited for Taylor to do the same, walking to the outdoor seating area with him afterward. If you’d left it outside on the table you could probably swing by the lost and found after class and pray someone had been kind enough to return it instead of leaving it there, or worse yet, someone throwing it away on accident. As you continue rushing through the corridors to your next class, it hit you. You forgot about one key thing, Taylor throwing his jacket over you when the two of you were eating. More importantly, you forgot that you slipped the card that was in your hand into one of the pockets of it and didn’t retrieve it before he left your study session. You are in such a rush that you barely even have time to berate yourself for being so forgetful, opting to walk even faster to make it to class on time. With a minute to spare before it officially started, you walk into the hall and rush up the stairs before practically throwing yourself into the closest available seat, catching your breath for a few moments before pulling out your textbook.

At the risk of looking like a total klutz, you shoot Taylor a message and ask if he was free in about two hours. You decide to pull out the book you’d checked out to pass the time between note-taking. As terribly cheesy and saucy as the book was, you can’t seem to put it down, rushing your note taking just so you could read another page or two before returning to it. It sounds kind of crazy, but rewarding yourself like this is helping you take notes. A buzz from your phone pulls you out of the rhythm you built up. It’s a text message from Taylor saying he can stick around campus to hand you your ID back if you needed it that badly. You feel bad for doing so, knowing he probably has better things to do with his time, but at the same time you are incredibly grateful that he’d do something like that for you. After shooting back a quick reply, you get back to note taking, cursing that the teacher has gone through two slides while you sent a message. The lecture ends just as you are getting to the good part of the book, much to your disappointment. No use in getting mad over it though, since you will have more than enough time to flip through it when you get back to your dorm room.

Right now you only have one thing on your mind, rushing over to the parking lot where Taylor had told you he’d be waiting. It's still freezing outside, making you rub at your arms for warmth as you make your way over to Taylor. You kind of have to admit he looks damn good in that leather jacket, not that your penchant for being attracted to bad boys helped things any. Hell, even the main character in that book you picked up dresses in a similar fashion. You realize you hadn’t even put the book away, still holding it in your hands when you finally meet up with Taylor.

“Hey, here’s your ID back,” he smirks before handing you the card. “It’s a good thing you told me, I was just about to leave campus when you sent that text.”

“Listen, thanks for sticking around,” you smile, taking the ID and putting it in your pocket. “I owe you one for this, seriously. Need the damn thing to check out a book… uh, for class, that is.”

“Didn’t know you needed ‘Kiss in the Storm’ for a class here,” he says, pointing towards the book you’re currently holding.

“Alright fine, I don’t need it for any class,” you say, hiding the cover of the book behind your sleeve. “How do you know about it anyway?”

“Uh, my… sister had it at home for a little while,” he says, rubbing the back of his head. “Got bored one day and decided to give it a read, it’s actually not bad.”

You are surprised a guy like him is into sappy romance novels, but considering the favor he’d done you just now, you aren’t exactly going to bust his balls about it. “I’ll see you on Thursday then for another study session?”

“Sounds good, see you then,” he says, reaching out his hand for a handshake which you quickly accept.

You each head your separate ways, Talor walking off while you rush to the library to hand your ID to the guy manning the front desk. Truthfully you haven’t done much reading for recreation lately, but it feels kind of nice to immerse yourself into the magic of what you considered a good book. After that ordeal, there’s nothing more you want to do than hurry back to your dorm to get some more reading done before bed. You turn the doorknob to your dorm and step inside, thankful that you don’t have a roommate to pretend to be modest around. You take the bag off your shoulder and place it down on the counter along with the book. You quickly yank off your shirt and toss it in a random direction before kicking off your shoes, followed by your jeans. All you are left in is a white camisole and some panties, perfect attire to relax in the comfort of your own dorm room. You grab the book and make your way to the mini fridge to get a soda before heading to the couch.

After settling in on the couch, you kick up your feet and toss a blanket over yourself before diving back into your saucy novel. You’d left off at the part where the girl finally stayed the night at his apartment. Now you are expecting nothing less than a smutty sex scene in the upcoming pages. You get what that but… it is a lot different than anything else you’ve read. It is like something right out of Fifty Shades, except a whole lot more… sensual. You don’t know whether to stop reading or continue pressing on, stopping occasionally to sip at your soda and think about what exactly this book was making you feel. You’d be lying if you said you don’t feel a little hot and bothered at the contents of the book, you’ve never read dirty talk in a book that sent shivers down your spine until now. There is some spanking and light bondage sprinkled in too, but you don’t really mind it too much. Though maybe the fact that you don’t mind it should worry you a bit, liking something considered so… kinky. After getting through the scene you put your book down and squirm a bit as you considered playing with yourself. The warm sensation coursing through your body certainly doesn’t help matters any. A little bit of ‘personal time’ never hurt anybody, right?

You pull the covers down to your legs before doing anything else, setting down the book and soda on the coffee table before snaking a hand into your now damp panties. It felt good just to rub your labia, a small string of your femcum dribbling out and coating your fingers. You close your eyes and try to visualize what you just read, slowly increasing the pace of your rubbing. Your breath slows to short pants when you slip the tip of your digit inside, fighting the urge to moan out and risk being heard through the paper-thin walls. You continue to probe at your insides, sinking more of your digit inside yourself and gently stirring it in a circular motion, making it harder and harder to stifle a moan. While a single finger felt amazing, you know it isn’t going to be enough to satisfy you entirely, snaking your free hand down your panties to rub at your button. A full-body shiver courses through you as your finger makes contact with the sensitive flesh, and you let out a stifled moan as you continue to imagine the acts described in the book performed on you. Everything from the sensual neck kissing to the biting and scratching shared by two lovers dances vividly in your mind as you continued to inch closer and closer to the release you so desperately crave. You’ve never been one to entertain the concept of being hyper-submissive in the bedroom, but damn if that book hasn’t made you want to be put in the role badly. The thought of just… relinquishing control is almost enough to make you shiver again, but you manage to prevent yourself from doing so. You rapidly pick up the pace, rubbing your button with more pressure as you do, your hips bucking gently towards your finger as your body demands more stimulation. A second finger quells that need momentarily, the sheer amount of lubrication running out from you making sliding in a second digit effortless. You can’t help but let out a mix of a groan and moan as you curl the digits currently knuckle deep inside you.

“Ohh, fuck- please… more… I’m so… mmn~ close,” you gasp out as you continue at a steady pace.

You can tell you’re close, your hips bucking violently as you finally push yourself over the edge. There’s no way you can hold it back, letting out a series of loud moans that you try to muffle by putting a hand over your own mouth as you continue to finger yourself. Sticky, syrupy strands of your fluids run out past your invading fingers and down your legs as you continue to buck and spasm through your orgasm, trying to prolong the pleasure for as long as you could manage. After it’s all said and done you throw your head back onto the soft couch, panting as you struggle to catch your breath after the mind-blowing waves of pleasure that just crashed into you. A few minutes of recovery is all it takes before you’re assessing the situation, realizing you’ve probably stained the sheet and the couch cushions and need a change of underwear to boot.

You grab the cushion and sheet and make your way to the bathroom before tossing them into the hamper along with your now wet panties, heading back into the living room to throw on a new pair. After rummaging through your drawers and finding a clean pair of panties, you head to the kitchenette to pour yourself a tall glass of water before immediately downing it. You decide it’s in your best interest to get some rest so you’re not falling asleep during your planned study session tomorrow. As you walk towards your bed, you remember to grab your phone and set several alarms so you don’t get a late start for the third time that week. You practically dive under the warm, thick comforter and cocoon yourself before closing your eyes, sleep taking you soon after.

-

It’s been a few weeks now since you met Taylor and the two of you are getting along swimmingly, having gotten a lot of progress done towards your economics project. While you’d put in most of the work at the start, Taylor was starting to contribute a lot more as of late, partly thanks to your study sessions together. You are starting to enjoy your time together a lot recently, almost to the point where you contemplate asking him out on a date. As far as you know from your conversations, he isn’t seeing anyone at the moment, but you know that could change in a split second considering how damn attractive he is. Even though his body and face weren’t ultra-masculine he is still undeniably handsome in his own way, cute if you had to put it in one word. You feel nervous about asking him on a date though, considering you don’t know much about what he liked to do outside of school since the topic didn’t come up in the time you’d spent together. Add that to the fact that you’ve never been one to do the asking out and you have a recipe for disaster. As you make your way to the library you weigh the options in your head and think about the possible consequences. If he turned you down, then working on the rest of the project together is going to be incredibly awkward, nevermind the tutoring you promised him. On the other hand, if he said yes then you’d get to spend even more time in the company of a cute boy. And who knew, maybe you’d even start dating if things went well on a first date. You make up your mind by the time you reached the doors of the library, you are going to ask if he wanted to do something over the weekend. The worst thing he could do is say no, after all.

You aren’t used to seeing him arrive before you do, spotting him sitting at a table in a far corner of the library. He seems pretty engrossed in whatever he’s doing, though you couldn’t make out exactly what until you inch closer, your curiosity getting the best of you. From what you can tell, he is hunched over a notepad or sketchbook of some kind, drawing in it with an intense focus you’ve seldom seen from him before. You figure he is drawing something since you know he likes to sketch in class on occasion, but you’ve never seen him put this kind of effort into his drawings. It isn’t easy, but you try to compose yourself and approach the table nonchalantly as to not distract him from what he’s doing. You get a small peek at what he is drawing before he hears your approach, quickly shutting the sketchbook and turning to look at you. He is definitely drawing humans as he typically did in lecture, but what is he trying to hide from you if you’ve already seen what he is capable of doing?

“Hey, thought you were skipping out on me,” he says, getting up from his seat to greet you with a hug. “Or am I just early this time?”

“You haven’t been waiting for me too long, have you?” you ask, smiling at his sense of humor.

“Nah, just been doing a little bit of doodling while I waited, been a couple of days since I did anything,” he admits, shrugging his shoulders. “Don’t want to get rusty or anything.”

“Oh yeah? Mind if I see what you were drawing? My mom used to keep a sketchbook when she was in college, kind of reminds me of her a little bit.”

“It’s not really done yet, you sure you want to see it? My unfinished drawings kind of suck, and I never really get around to finishing them half the time.”

“Come on, I’ve seen your sketches before, you’re exaggerating and you know it,” you say, poking at his shoulder as you stand over him. “Give it here and I’ll be the judge of how good it is.”

He breathes in for a moment, seeming hesitant to reach for the sketchpad, before grabbing it and putting it in your hands. “Kind of wanted it to be a surprise, but since you asked so nicely, you get to see it.”

You wonder what he’s talking about as you flip through the pages of the nearly fully filled out sketchpad, slowly flipping the pages and watching the improvement he made with each and every drawing. The sheer volume of drawings is impressive enough to you, and for a moment you wonder how long he’s been doing this.

“How long have you been drawing for? You’ve gotten really good at this,” you say as you continue flipping the pages toward the back of the sketchbook.

“On and off for a few years, kind of picked up the habit when I was bored out of my mind in high school,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. “So I’d say I started about three or four years ago, give or take a few months.”

“Really? Have you ever thought about sharing this stuff anywhere else? Online or something? I think people would really enjoy seeing your stuff.”

“A few times, but I mostly do it just for fun. Don’t know if people would really want to see my scribbles.”

“Are you kidding me? These are amazing,” you say, before finally flipping to the page he wants to you see. “Look at this one, it’s so…”

You trail off as you realize what you’re both pointing and looking at. It’s clearly half-finished since you interrupted him, but you can tell it is meant to be a woman. More importantly, it kind of looked like it is supposed to be a portrait of you. And by the looks of things, it is meant to be a portrait of you smiling. You are absolutely flattered and simultaneously floored by the fact that he would sketch a portrait of you.

“I-is this me?” you ask, not wanting to make assumptions and end up making a fool of yourself in front of him.

“Yeah, I kind of wanted it to be a surprise, but I hope you like it at least,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck as he avoids making eye contact with you. “Still need to finish it and clean it up a little bit.”

“That’s… really sweet of you Taylor, you didn’t have to do this at all,” you say, a blush creeping up to your cheeks. “I’m excited to see what it looks like when it’s finished though.”

“It’s nothing, really,” he says with a wide smile on his face, trying to play off your kind words. “Just my way of saying thanks for everything. I’d probably fail this class again if it wasn’t for your tutoring.”

“I’m not that good at teaching, but I’m glad it’s helped you out. So, how about we get some more work done on the project?”

“Sounds good to me, I did a little bit of work on it last night. Should be in the google drive folder.”

The two of you get to work, and for the little amount of time you have you get a surprising amount of progress done. You generally get less work done on Fridays since you both typically go home earlier than usual. There is nothing quite like unwinding after a long and tedious week of lectures and coursework after all. It is nearing the end of your time together for the day, and the butterflies dancing in your stomach only flutter harder as you think about asking him on a date. You can’t even remember the last time you were this nervous about a guy, though the fact that he drew a portrait of you gives you a bit of confidence regarding your odds of success. After all, if he likes you enough to make a nice gesture like that then it is possible he likes you back in some capacity. That confidence doesn’t stop you from waiting until the absolute last second to spring the question on him though, waiting until the two of you are out of the library and walking towards the parking lot together. You try to find the right words to ask the question you so desperately want to ask him, but you can’t figure it out for the life of you. If you don’t ask him now you are almost positive you’ll never work up the courage to do it again, so you say the first thing that comes to mind.

“Hey, Taylor…”

“Yeah?” he asks, quickly turning his head to meet your gaze. “Something the matter?”

“I was just uh, wondering if you’d m-maybe like to… go on a date sometime?” you ask, involuntary flinching as you finish the sentence. “If you’re not busy or anything, that is.”

There’s a silence in the hallway the two of you are traversing as both of you come to a stop, and that’s when you really start to panic about things. Why did you think asking a guy you barely knew on a date was a good idea? What if he was just being nice because you were giving him free tutoring? No, that wasn’t fair to him, you knew Taylor was a better person than that just from the little time you’d spent together. And while that gift was really sweet of him to give you, maybe you’d badly misinterpreted the gesture. You battle that urge to just run away as your fight or flight response kicks in, doing your best to keep your breathing and heart rate under control as panic sets in. When you finally see his mouth open to speak you close your eyes as you brace for the denial you’re expecting.

“Um, sure,” he says, eyes still locked with yours when you reopen them again. “You free tomorrow actually?”

You aren’t sure if you’d heard right for a second. Did he accept your offer to go on a date? The butterflies in your stomach are practically jumping for joy.

“Y-yeah, I’m free tomorrow,” you quickly stammer out, doing your best to retain your composure. “You know any good places around here? Still kind of new to town and I don’t really know much about anything outside the university.”

“I know a few good ones, how do you feel about go-karting or mini golf?”

“Been go-karting a few times, kind of gets boring after the first few times unless you’re going in a big group, you know?”

“Mini golf it is then,” he says, pulling out his phone to check something before speaking again. “Tomorrow sound good to you?”

“Yeah, I can uh, definitely do tomorrow,” you smile, trying to hide the excitement welling up inside you from him. “What time though?”

“I have to take care of some stuff in the morning, but I’ll call you as soon as I’m free, alright?”

“Sounds good,” you nod. “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow then. Drive safe.”

“Don’t worry, I will,” he smiles, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “See you tomorrow Soph.”

After the two of you say your goodbyes, you immediately beeline towards your dorm. You’re still not sure if what had just happened is actually real or if you are just imagining that it had gone so well. Your fear is now replaced by anxiety, your brain swimming with thoughts of what you are going to wear or do on your date tomorrow. The last time you remember being this nervous was your senior prom, and that was only because you looked like an absolute disaster in a dress that was two sizes too big for your body.

You calm down a bit once you are back in the safety and privacy of your dorm. A warm bath is exactly what you need right now, stripping down to your birthday suit and making your way to the bathroom before locking the door behind you. There’s no real reason to shut the door other than to turn the bathroom into a makeshift sauna you could get lost in. It is the one thing that, without fail, will get you to calm down and forget about things, entering a relaxed state as soon as your foot touches the nearly scalding water. Slowly sliding into the tub, you let out a drawn-out sigh once you are almost entirely submerged in the water. With a calmer head, it is easier to think about what your plans for tomorrow are. You want to be pretty well rested so you won’t be a grump, so getting to bed early is a no-brainer. Wearing a cute outfit probably wouldn’t hurt either, though you don’t want to look like you are trying hard to impress him either. Something casual maybe? You have a few outfits in mind that would fit the bill, but you wouldn’t know for sure until you actually tried them on and look in the mirror. You have plenty of time in the morning to figure things out. For now, you decide to take solace in the fact that the school week has finally drawn to a close, closing your eyes and taking deep breaths as the warmth of the water permeates your tired body. After thirty minutes of soaking in the tub, you finally decide it’s time to get out, pulling the plug to let the water drain out. As you lather yourself up with body wash, you decide you could probably do with shaving your legs tomorrow, especially if you plan to wear shorts or a skirt on your date. You decide against shaving your legs, thinking you are getting ahead of yourself in thinking a date as innocent as mini golfing would lead to getting busy in the sheets.

The rest of your night is fairly uneventful, settling on popping some popcorn and watching a few episodes of your favorite series before heading to bed. You end up getting a little carried away though, watching a few more episodes than you intended to. A quick glance at your phone told you it is near midnight, and you let loose some curses before turning off the TV and diving straight into your bed. The silver lining in all of this is that you don’t have to get up at six in the morning to make it to some lecture you could not bring yourself to care about in the slightest. There is little time to be concerned with class right now, the warmth of the sheets that cocooned you threatening to carry you off to dreamland with each passing second, a content smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

You wake up to the sound of a blaring alarm, a quick glance at your alarm clock telling you it was six in the morning. If you didn’t feel like a living corpse right now, you might even celebrate the accomplishment that was not sleeping through your alarms for the first time in what feels like weeks. Partly to blame for that was your habit of sleeping a staggeringly low six hours a night on average, which would have anyone feeling like death. Despite that, you still debate just hitting the snooze button on your phone and going right back to sleep, until you remember the exact reason that isn’t an option. Today is the day you agreed to go on a date with Taylor and canceling on him would be in poor taste. Especially after seeing that sketch of you he’d done, the sweetest gift a guy that wasn’t your dad had given you in ages. You can’t find it in your heart to cancel on him after that, so you begrudgingly tear yourself away from the comfort of your bed to get ready for the day ahead. Maybe if you get everything done quickly, you can take a power nap on the couch until Taylor calls you. You have a lot on your plate for the morning and you figure hopping in the shower is as good a place to start as any, grabbing a fresh towel from one of your drawers before stripping down from your sleepwear. Looking in the mirror turns out to be a horrible mistake, as you are quickly faced with your messy bedhead and an expression that could make anyone believe you are depressed. In fairness, you typically style your hair in a messy fashion, but never in a way that would lead people to believe you just crawled out of bed.

You think it’s nothing a quick shower and ample amounts of conditioner can’t fix as you pull back the shower curtain and step inside.

After a much needed hot shower, you get back in front of the mirror and go to work. Hairdryer in one hand and brush in the other, you style your hair into a messy braid. It is a little different than what you do on a day to day basis, but you hope Taylor will appreciate the effort you put into your appearance today. You grimace at your reflection; so much for not trying too hard to impress him.

A quick change of clothes later and you find yourself staring at the doors of your small closet. So many choices and so little time to settle on just one. You know it is going to be at least a bit chilly out today, so that means shorts, skirts, and short-sleeved shirts are almost certainly out of the question. That leaves you with less variety than you would like for bottom wear, forcing you to choose between jeans, khakis, and chinos. You settle on a ripped, slightly faded pair of jeans after some thought, then rifle through drawers for a shirt that will complement them. After much searching, you find an old shirt you remember wearing to high school almost daily, a shirt from one of your favorite bands, Unlimited Idiom. You weren’t even entirely sure it will fit you, but the colors match nicely with the jeans you’d picked out, so the least you could do is try it on. After some effort, you get the shirt on and find it actually still fit you pretty well, despite the sleeves being a bit snugger than you remembered them. With an outfit picked out, all you have left to do is throw on some perfume and put in your ear studs to complete the ensemble. This is the most effort you’d put into looking nice for anyone in a long time, so you hope his reaction to it will be positive at the very least.

Your rumbling stomach makes you think about getting breakfast from the dining hall for a moment, and you are extremely tempted to succumb to the desire but one thing stops you. You aren’t entirely sure if Taylor will want to grab something to eat before or after your date, and turning down his offer isn’t something you want to do. Rummaging through your fridge and cupboards for something to stave off your hunger until then. Your options are pretty limited as you haven’t been to the grocery store in a good while, so you grab a few granola bars and pour yourself a tall glass of milk then plop yourself down on the couch to watch some TV. You figure napping would only make you more tired, or worse yet you might just fall asleep and miss Taylor’s call. Finishing off the rest of the season seems like a much smarter idea, despite your constant yawns. It isn’t the most thought-provoking series you’d ever watched or anything, but it is certainly palatable enough to pass the time and let you stop worrying about whether your date is going to be a disaster or not. At least temporarily, as your phone buzzes halfway through your second episode, a text message coming through.

‘Just about done with things here, should be back in about an hour or so if you need some time to get ready. I’ll call again when I’m actually back on campus.’

You can’t help but smile at his thoughtfulness, shooting back a quick response of your own. ‘Just about ready, give me a call and I’ll meet you wherever.”

You are mostly just glad he hasn’t blown you off at the last second, previous bad experiences in that regard making you wary of going on dates with new people. You’ve learned to not let your hopes get too high so it doesn’t sting as much when you are let down. It isn’t the time to think about that kind of stuff though, right now you just want to think about having a good time with what seems like a very sweet guy. And hopefully not make an ass out of yourself playing mini golf, since it has been years since you last played a game of it. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you aren’t fairly nervous about the whole ordeal, though not as much as yesterday, but there are still considerable amounts of butterflies in your stomach. All you can do to quell that feeling of panic welling up inside you is to take a few deep breaths and try to think of more pleasant things. Your ritual is quickly interrupted by the familiar sound of your ringtone filling the room. You quickly scramble upright from your relaxed position on the couch and reach for the phone buzzing on your coffee table.

“Hello?”

“Was just calling to see if you were about ready to get going. I’ll be on campus in about ten minutes if you want to meet me in the parking lot,” he says, hearing the faint sounds of a breeze in the background.

“Su- Yeah, yeah, I’ll uh, be right down,” you say, stumbling over your words like a freshman at their first homecoming dance. “What kind of car do you drive so I can keep an eye out?”

“Don’t worry about it, you’ll know when you see it,” he says before hanging up the phone.

It sounded extremely windy wherever he was. That makes you question if your choice of attire is appropriate for the weather outside. Worst case you’d just grab a jacket to throw over your long sleeved shirt. You wonder exactly what he meant by you knowing when you saw it though, thinking there must’ve been some detail you missed from one of your many conversations. Whatever the case, you decide to grab a jacket from your closet and throw it on, then make sure you had your dorm keys and phone before making your way out the door and towards the lot. You check your watch when you finally got there, and you wonder if you are early or if he is running late. After another ten minutes pass, you are almost tempted to call him to see if he was alright. As you look down to look at your phone, you hear the honk of a horn that makes you jump. Looking up you realize it is Taylor calling you over, and when you see what he is riding, you almost do a double take. A brand new looking sports motorcycle, and a fairly expensive one from what little you knew about motorcycles. You make your way over to him with a smile on your face as you continued to take in details about his getup. He has a helmet in his hands, though you aren’t sure how he is able to wear one without the horns getting in the way. A leather jacket and gloves complete the look, the smile he returns to you nearly enough to make you swoon, the bad boy look being something that really gets to you.

“You’re late,” you say over the sound of the running motorcycle. “Not nice to keep a girl waiting so long, you know?”

“Ran into some traffic on the way back,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. “But you can keep me waiting just fine, huh?”

“Traffic, on a motorcycle?” you ask, raising an eyebrow. “I’ve heard plenty of bad excuses before, but none quite that bad.”

“You’re the one that told me to drive safe remember,” he says, shoving the helmet he is holding into your hands. “Let’s get going before it gets busier down there, don’t want to be stuck waiting behind someone at every hole,” his eyes shifting upwards as he steals a glance. “You do something with your hair? Looks really nice.”

A blush starts to cover your cheeks at his compliment, so you take the helmet from his hands and hopping on the back of the motorcycle before he notices. You are almost tempted to not wear it to avoid destroying your hair, but it is probably in your best interest to stay safe considering this crotch rocket looks like it could take off dangerously fast. “So, what kind of motorcycle is this?”

“A Kawasaki Ninja H2R, bought it from a friend who shipped out recently, why?” he asks as he adjusts his left glove. “You got your helmet on so we can go?”

“All set. Was just asking since it looks like a pretty nice bike. Hey, don’t you need a helmet too?”

“If I could wear one I would,” he says, pointing to his massive horns. “They don’t make protective headgear for anthros like me, at least not yet.”

“You ever bump them into doorways on accident?” you joke, your snickering muffled by the helmet. “Seems like it could be a pain in the ass.”

“Ha, ha, very funny,” he replies mockingly, shaking his head in disappointment. “You have no fuckin’ idea how many times I’ve heard that one before. Between that one and the ‘Are you horny?’ joke, I’d be a millionaire if I got a dollar every time someone made it.”

In what you could only assume is a display of machismo, he kicks the stand up and revs the motorcycle, the sound alone being enough to startle you into gripping his waist tighter. “Fucking shit,” you mutter.

Seconds later the two of you are off, practically speeding off the lot once you pass the campus security checkpoint. It is your first time on a motorcycle that’s not a moped and you re holding on to his waist like your life depends on it. He weaves between traffic lanes and turns corners so tightly it feels like you are going to be flung off each and every time. You are glad you decided not to eat too much with the way he is driving or you would’ve almost certainly spewed your lunch into his helmet. The sound of the two of you cutting through wind is too loud for anything to be said. It is exciting in its own way, and despite everything, you still felt safe with your arms wrapped around him in what is practically a hug. Though you are going to have some choice words to share with him the second you got off the motorcycle, it is nice to experience something new with someone you trust. You could tell he still cares for your safety though since he maneuvers with more care on the freeway than on the practically empty stretches of road that surround your campus. That combined with the fact that he’d thought to bring a helmet for you to use definitely earned him some brownie points with you. Once you finally get to the lot for the mini golf place, you let out a sigh of relief. Doing your best to not ruin your hair, you carefully pull the helmet off and hand it to him after he kicks the kickstand down.

“So, how’d you enjoy the ride?” he asks, the biggest shit-eating grin plastered on his face, exposing a set of near-perfect teeth. “Pretty nice, right?”

“You’re an ass…” you say, your slight grin betraying your tone. “Okay, okay, it was kind of fun to go that fast, but you really should ask next time. Any other girl would’ve slapped you the second she got off the motorcycle.”

“Aw, but where’s the fun in that? Besides, I figured you of all people would be alright with it.”

“What do you mean by that?” you scoff, glaring at him.

“Nothing, I just remember you saying your brother liked to do the same in his car.”

“Yeah, but he did it on purpose when I was like, twelve. Plus, I’d tell him to stop and he’d just go even faster like an asshole.”

“Alright, alright,” he says, putting his hands up in mock defeat. “I’ll ask before doing it next time, but only because it’s you.”

You don’t know what it was, but he had a way with his words and mannerisms that make you feel like putty in his hands, and you hate that it is that easy for him to do so. “Thanks, I’m surprised you still remember that though.”

“It was only like a week ago,” he shrugs. “Plus it seemed worth remembering. We should probably get a move on before that group there gets ahead of us though.”

The two of you quickly walk to the front counter of the mini golf place, and happy memories of playing with your high school friends back in your hometown come rushing back. It isn’t the same place, but there were a lot of resemblances that put a smile on your face. You’ve been nervous for no good reason, you are in a likelihood going to have a great time on your date with Taylor. The two of you wait in line until it’s your turn, though looking at the price list makes you remember exactly what you hate about mini golf. You regret not having eaten anything before your date since the price of refreshments of any kind are an absolute ripoff. Who in their right mind would pay six dollars for a beer when you can just head to a college bar and get smashed for a few dollars more? Though you’d be lying if you said nachos and a cold beer aren’t a tempting prospect with how hungry you are.

“Hey Taylor, what do you think about grabbing a beer before we start? Make things a little more interesting?”

He laughs at your statement, which has you confused until he patted the outside of his leather jacket. “Don’t worry about it, I’ve got us both covered.”

You think about what he said for a second and can only assume he meant he wants to pay for the beers, which makes sense but also doesn’t answer your question in the slightest. Deciding it is best to wait until it actually comes time to pay, you leave the matter alone. After waiting what feels like forever in line, the attendant smiles at the two of you before asking, “Hi, welcome to Strokes of Genius, how can I help you two today?”

“Two rounds of mini golf and…” he says, turning to face you. “You want anything else?”

“And some nachos please,” you finish.

“Great, that’ll be 18.99 please, how will you be paying?”

“Cash,” he says, fishing out his wallet and pulling out a crisp twenty and handing it to the cashier.

The two of you wait for the nachos to be ready before sitting down at one of the many empty benches strewn about the eating area. You’ve never seen a plate of nachos look as appetizing as the ones in front of you, but you want to wait for him to take the first bite since he paid for them. The cheese slowly oozes and spreads out across the tortilla chips, working its way around the jalapeños as if they were boulders in a raging river of molten cheese. Instead of what you expected to happen, the two of you end up in an impromptu staring contest as neither wants to be the first to take a bite. Thankfully after a minute or so, he finally breaks the silence.

“Go ahead,” he chuckles, nodding toward the nachos. “I won’t bite if you take some.”

“Wait, you don’t want any?”

“Nah, I already ate something before I came to pick you up, that’s why I was asking if you wanted something.”

“Oh,” you say, surprised at his kind gesture. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

You decide to try and make some small talk between bites of food, doing your best to avoid talking with your mouth full. While the two of you have known each other for a few weeks, you realize you don’t really know that much about each other besides hobbies and school related stuff.

“So what are you actually majoring in, by the way, I don’t think I ever asked.”

“Huh?” he asks, taken by surprise from your sudden question. “Oh, just a business degree.”

“Really? I would’ve expected something more creative from you since you draw so well.”

“It’s nothing I can’t learn on my own,” he shrugs. “Besides, that'll give me something to fall back on besides being a barista if things don’t work out for me with art.”

“Fair enough,” you say before finishing the last of the nachos. “Alright, I’m ready to kick your ass at mini golf now.”

He cocks an eyebrow at you in response. “We’ll see about that one, I’ve played this course way too many times to lose to you.”

The two of you set out, quickly swinging by the counter to grab a ball and club suitable for your heights. You play rock paper scissors to decide who will go first on each hole, and you win the first best of five decidedly. Placing your ball down, you eye the hole a small distance away and get in a good stance before giving the ball a swing, narrowly missing the hole.

“Damn it,” you say, turning to face him. “Alright, your tu- What are you doing?”

He looks at you, completely unphased by your sudden question. Though he doesn’t respond due to the flask currently raised up to his lips, finishing his drink before finally responding. “What?”

“What is that?” you ask, pointing at the flask in his hands.

“Booze,” he says, extending the flask in his hand out towards you. “Want some? There’s no better way to enjoy mini golf than with a nice buzz and there’s no way in hell I’m paying these schmucks six dollars for a beer.”

“Nah, it’s alright, I don’t want to impose, plus it’s your booze anyways.”

“Don’t worry about it, I brought enough for the two of us for a reason.”

You think about whether or not you want to take him up on his offer, realizing turning it down would be in poor taste. Plus if he is going to be drunk it’d be no fun being sober alongside him.

“Oh, what the hell,” you say, extending out your hand and taking the flask. “What doesn’t kill you, right?”

You put the flask up to your lips and slowly tip some of the alcohol into your mouth. The second it hits your tongue you realize it’s pretty strong stuff, yet surprisingly smooth despite that. It definitely isn’t anything bottom shelf, that much is for sure. You take two large swigs and down them quickly before handing the flask back to him, the alcohol burning your throat on the way.

“Thanks,” you say, stepping aside so he can take his turn. “Let’s see if you can sink it in one.”

“Well, that’s not fair, I’m playing this hole with a handicap,” he chuckles, taking a stance before swinging and sinking the ball. “Looks like you need one.”

“Oh, shut it,” you say, taking your second stroke and sinking the ball. “We’ll see how cocky you are by the end of this.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you, because I did.”

“Yeah yeah, hand that booze over and let’s get a move on,” you say, sticking your hand out.

By the 9th hole, the two of you had taken enough swigs of the hard alcohol to put a lightweight on their ass. You don’t exactly have an iron liver, but you consider yourself to be someone who could hold their alcohol pretty well. It isn’t exactly enough to put you out of commission, but you can feel yourself sway ever so slightly with each step you take, having to deliberately think about where you are walking. Taylor isn’t faring much better, the alcohol seemingly hitting him pretty hard, considering how many times he has almost tripped walking up the stairs to the hole. You are up first, and this seems considerably more difficult than the last eight, having multiple paths for the ball to take along with some very narrow corridors you are meant to drive the ball through. You take a firm stance, steadying yourself before striking the ball with force. Too much force, in fact, as the ball hits a sharp corner and bounces out of the course, falling into the decorative waterfall. You groan, knowing that you either have to get your feet wet or head back to the counter to get another ball. Neither seem like particularly appealing options, but the former seems better than drunkenly stumbling back to the front desk. You bend down to take off your sneakers and socks but stop when you felt a tap on your shoulder.

“Looking for something?” he asks, holding a golf ball between two of his fingers.

“How did you-” you stammer, looking between him and where the ball went as you spoke. “B-but, the ball and I…”

“I grabbed a few spare ones while the attendant wasn’t looking, just in case something like this happened. Believe me, the walk of shame back to the counter isn’t very fun.”

“Thanks, saved me from getting these jeans wet,” you say, taking the ball and placing it down before taking the shot.

From that hole forward the two of you turn the drinking into a bit of a game, whoever took the most shots on a hole had to take a swig. You make up rules as you went like if one of you made a hole-in-one, the other person had to take three swigs. It made you think more about each shot you were taking, despite the alcohol doing it’s best to sabotage any attempt at rational thought. You aren’t even sure if Taylor is keeping count on the scorecard at this point, his shots getting sloppier as you continue playing through the course. Whatever the case, you are pretty sure you are soundly beating him, typically taking two or three fewer strokes than him by the fifteenth hole. On the sixteenth hole, by something you could only call an act of god, you land a hole-in-one, shaking your fist in celebration.

“Alright, drink up,” you taunt, turning to face Taylor. “You’re the one who made up the rule, remember?”

“Oh god…” he groans, pulling the flask from his jacket pocket. “Thank god we only have two holes left.”

“Come on, don’t tell me you’re giving up just before the end,” you say, patting him on the back to egg him on. “I thought you said you were better at this than me…”

“Alright, alright,” he says, quickly downing three swigs of the whiskey.

“Tell you what though, whoever has the worst score after the last hole has to finish this damn thing,” he says, shaking the flask to allow you to gauge that there’s only a third of the flask’s contents left. “Deal?”

“Alright, you’re on,” you say, confident in your ability to beat him. “I’ll be keeping track of the score too, so don’t even think about cheating.”

“I’m hurt that you think I’d do something like that,” he says, putting a hand over his chest in mock offense.

The seventeenth hole goes in your favor, but only by two strokes. You watch as Taylor tallies up the scores from each hole on his phone, eager to see who’s in the lead before the eighteenth hole. It turns out the two of you were practically neck and neck, 54-55 in your favor, which is good, but anything could happen on the last hole. You are certainly going to try your heart out, not looking forward to downing the rest of the flask. The thought of drinking that much whiskey, considering the state you were already in is certainly a good motivator to do well. You take your time, placing down the ball and working out the best path, knowing a hole-in-one is unlikely. Once you’ve got your route planned out, you take a swing and hope for the best. The sight of the ball rolling down a bump and nearly back to the starting point is almost enough to break your heart, but you swing again, this time landing a medium distance away from the hole. Two more swings and your ball falls into the hole, carried off to the ball return. You feel pretty confident that you’ll be the winner, all things considered. But mini golf is a fickle mistress, and Taylor’s expression told you he was equally confident in his abilities. You watch his every move, waiting for him to take his swing and silently praying that he’ll mess up his shots. He swings, the ball flying into a corner at high speed and bouncing out of bounds. You let out a sigh of relief at the sight, knowing he has to land a hole-in-one on his next swing or you’ll win by default. He lines himself up once again, swinging with less force this time. The ball makes it over the small hills and rolls down the slope towards the hole and you hear the dreaded sound of the ball clattering into the hole.

“Yes! Yes! Fuck yes!” you hear him shout out, dropping the club on the ground to throw both hands up in the air. “Let’s go, wooooo!”

You can’t help but laugh at his exaggerated display, and neither can the people waiting behind you. In the interest of avoiding more embarrassment, you walk over to him, pick up the club and drag him off by the hand, mouthing a sorry to the old couple behind you. Once you return the clubs, the two of you take a seat on a wooden bench.

“You alright? You seemed a little too thrilled about landing that hole in one,” you chuckle, putting an arm over his shoulder. “Guess neither of us has to drink the rest of it now, so I can see why you were so excited.”

“Half and half,” he says, wrapping an arm around you.

“Sorry?” you ask, not sure what he’s referring to each.

“Each of has to drink half of it,” he says, swaying into you ever so slightly. “It’s the only way to make things fair, right?”

You really don’t want to drink the rest of it, but you’ve had a great time with him so a little unpleasantness isn’t exactly going to ruin your night. He is the first to take a long drink from the flask, before handing it to you to do the honors and finish off the rest of it. It burns like hell to drink so much of it at once, but it is somewhat more bearable due to the quality. As soon as you hand the flask back to him, you realized something. How were you going to get back home if neither of you were in any state to drive? You hadn’t realized it, but you’d spent a lot of time here, looking down at your phone to find it out it was nearly 11 pm.

“So uh, should I call a cab or something?” you ask.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll uh, call us an Uber, because I sure as shit cannot drive,” he says, pulling out his phone and nearly dropping it in the process. “You want to crash at my place tonight? I’ve got a big pullout couch you can sleep on. Or you can take the bed, up to you. We can pick up my motorcycle in the morning and I can take you back to your dorm.”

“Oh, you don’t live on campus? Just kind of assumed you did. But yeah, I don’t mind crashing at your place tonight, got nothing to do tomorrow anyways.”

“It’s a deal then,” he says, pulling his arm off your shoulder to tap away at his phone. “Says there’s one that can be here in about ten minutes.”

“Thanks, by the way,” you mutter, leaning on his shoulder for support as the alcohol begins to hit you.

“For what?” he asks, bringing his arm around you again, a warm feeling washing over you as he does. “For calling an uber or for letting you crash at my place? Because it’s really not a problem, not like I have anything planned for tomorrow either.”

“No, not that,” you say, leaning into him playfully. “I meant for this date, I had a lot of fun today. It’s nice to just forget about stuff and let loose every now and then, you know?”

“Can I be honest with you for a second?” he asks, scratching and rubbing at the fur on the back of his head. “Why’d you ask me of all people to go on a date? Not like we know each other that well.”

The question proves difficult to answer for you, struggling to think of the right words to say with your alcohol-impaired mind. “I don’t know, I think you’re a cool guy. Plus you’re, you know, pretty cute, but I assume you already knew that.”

He looks away, breaking eye contact with you out of embarrassment. “Ah, you’re just saying that. I’m glad you had a good time though, we should definitely do it again sometime.”

“Next week for sure,” you laugh, happy that he’d enjoyed the date as much as you had. “Because both of us are going to have a hangover tomorrow morning.”

Not long after that, the Uber arrives and the two of you stumble into the backseat. You rest your head on his shoulder and close your eyes, a feeling of comfort you’ve not experienced in a long while coming over you.

“You alright Soph?” he asks, his tone much softer than what you’re used to hearing from him. “We’re almost there, I don’t live too far from here.”

“Mmm? Yeah, I’m fine,” you whisper, the alcohol in your system making you a bit drowsy. “Thanks for asking though.”

“Ah, don’t sweat it,” he says, adjusting himself so you’re in a more comfortable position. “Just want to make sure you’re feeling okay. Sorry if I overdid it a bit with the alcohol, usually the people I hang out with drink a lot more than I’m used to.”

“I feel alright,” you yawn, moving a few strands of hair dangling in front of your face out of the way. “A little sleepy, but I’ll live.”

You can’t help but feel warm fuzzies at his thoughtfulness throughout the night. Always concerned about you and making sure you were happy all throughout the date. And the greatest part was that he seemed to enjoy your company equally, at least from what you could tell from the time you spent together. Your drunk mind is concocting a plan that you otherwise probably wouldn’t have come up with. You’d mustered the courage to ask him on a date, so kissing him to see if he likes you that way is a no-brainer, right? You decide that you’ll do it while he was opening the door to his apartment, not wanting to leave things down to chance and potentially missing your opportunity.

After what seems like a few minutes, the car comes to a stop outside an apartment complex. You thank the driver before exiting the car, Taylor following close behind you. As you followed him up the stairs to his apartment, you inhale deeply to calm your nerves in preparation for what you are about to do. He rummages around in his pockets looking for the keys and you just stare at him, time seemingly slowing down and your nerves only being kept in check by alcohol as he fishes them from his pocket. He put the key in the hole, turns it and as soon as you hear the click of the door unlocking, you go for it. Within seconds of making your move, your lips are on his, putting absolutely everything you felt that night into your kiss. You expect him to return it kind, but instead, he grabs your shoulder and pushes you away. As you catch your breath, you stare him in the eyes, disappointment likely evident in your eyes, while his expression is one of uncertainty, something you weren’t expecting. You’re the first to break the awkward silence, slightly hurt by his gesture.

“W-what are you- Look, Taylor, it’s okay, I want this,” you say bluntly, closing your eyes and attempting to close the distance once again.

You knew this was going to happen the second she asked you on this date. It makes you feel like scum for not telling her the truth sooner. It isn’t the first time this has happened to you, someone mistaking you for a guy and you can’t blame them for doing so either. Though this is the first time you’ve let the secret get this far with someone you consider a friend. It is easier to let people believe you are what they perceived you to be than to weird them out by just telling the truth. It has never, ever gone this far before, with anyone. Not that you mind a girl being into you or fooling around with one, but you don’t want it to be under false pretenses since it stands against your principles to deceive someone romantically.

“Look, Sophia, there’s something you need to know about me before we go any further with this,” you say, biting your lower in anticipation of the bombshell you’re about to drop on the poor girl. “I’m not… a guy.”

“W-what?” she asks, looking at you with a befuddled expression. “What do you mean?”

“I’m a girl, and I’m so, so sorry for misleading you, I just never expected things to go this far,” you say, your already shaky voice almost breaking a few times. “If you want to go home, I understand and I’ll call you another uber. I should’ve told you when we met, I was just… enjoying your friendship and-”

She pushes forward once again, pressing her lips against yours. You aren’t entirely sure if she understood or if it is just the alcohol doing its magic, but in the moment you don’t care, eagerly returning the kiss and pressing yourself closer to her. The kiss lasts what feels like an eternity, allowing her roving tongue entry into your mouth, the strong taste of alcohol still on her tongue from earlier. It feels so right you don’t care if anyone saw the two of you swapping spit, doing your best to put as much energy into the act as she was giving you. After a couple of minutes, the two of you break away for a moment to catch your breaths, a strand of saliva briefly connecting the two you as you part.

“Look, I hah- don’t care that you’re a girl,” she says, panting in between words. “Honestly, I’ve never done anything like this before, but I didn’t want this because you were a guy. I wanted it because of the way you’ve treated me and because I had a good time with you.”

You have to fight to keep your emotions in check, her praise and kind words almost enough to make you teary-eyed. “Thanks, though we should probably continue this inside.”

You take her hand and guide her inside, the two of you fumbling about in the darkness before you turn the lights on. It’s been a long time since you’ve been intimate with a girl, but you are confident in your ability to show her a good time in what you figure is her first lesbian experience. You grip her hand tight as you make your way to your bedroom, making your way through the hallway of your cramped apartment. Once you are in the bedroom, you turn to face her again, wanting to be sure this is what she wants.

“Well, here we are, my bedroom,” you say meekly, not sure of what she thought of the posters decorating the walls or the slight disarray your room was in, not expecting company today. “I know what you said, but I just want to ask, are you still okay with you know, doing this?”

“Definitely, I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” she says, nodding to drive the point home to you. “Can we take things slow though? This is my first time doing anything with a girl.”

“I will, don’t worry. Getting out of these clothes is a start,” you say as you kick your shoes off, Sophia doing the same.

Before long, the two of you are both down to just your panties and bra, or in your case, bandages and panties. You are kind of embarrassed to have her see your breasts wrapped since you aren’t particularly thrilled with the size of your breasts without the bandages. Undoing it isn’t a hassle, but wrapping it on your own isn’t the easiest thing in the world.

“So…” she says, a blush forming on her cheeks. “What now?”

You lead the way, stepping forward and taking her hand, leading her onto the bed. You crawl onto the bed on all fours after her, both of you kneeling on the bed. It goes against the way you normally do things, but the alcohol made sure you are doing things by instinct. You inch forwards and bring her into a deep kiss, one of your hands reaching for the hook of her bra, quickly managing to undo it, the bra falling into her lap. You’d never really paid much attention to her that way before but her breasts are fairly sizeable, and you reach a free hand up to take a handful of the pliable flesh. The familiar sound of a moan rings out, your joined lips muffling the sound greatly. You momentarily break away to catch your breath, Sophia opening her eyes as you do, a dopey smile quickly forming on her face as she too struggles to catch her breath after the lengthy kiss.

“Lie down,” you say, wanting to move past merely kissing her to give her an experience she won’t forget.

“O-okay,” she meekly whispers out, laying down, her head lying comfortably on one of your pillows.

Still on your knees, you inch closer until you’re looming over her, leaning down to lock lips with her once again. This time, you go on the offensive, your hand gently caressing her soft skin all the way from her perky breasts, down to her soft midsection. You find what you’re looking for when you feel the fabric of her panties touch your fingers, snaking your hand into them as you continue your lewd kiss. She asked you to take things slow and you are going to keep that promise. You blindly move your fingers around until you find what you were looking for, that small nub that could overwhelm any woman with pleasure. The moment you start to gently rub at it with your fingers, you can feel her let out a few muffled moans into your mouth once more. The kiss you shared is passionate, your two tongues wrestling for dominance in the shared space, each of them hungering for more as time went on. Both of you panted each and every time you broke away, sometimes coaxing a breathy moan from her as her already pleasure-wracked mind considers your stimulation too much to handle. Judging from the dampness of her panties and how she thrashes under your body, she is ready for much more than just rubbing, slowly inserting your digit into her as you continue to share a deep kiss. She breaks away momentarily to tell you just one thing.

“Ohh haah- please… don’t nngh~ stop,” she pleads, twitching ever so slightly as you continue driving your finger deeper inside her slick depths.

You respond in kind to her twitches and moans by curling the digit inside her, being careful to not scratch her. You follow this up by putting your mouth up to her ear and letting loose a low growl, then moving to plant kisses on her exposed neck. While you feel her shudder and let off a few soft, breathy moans, you don’t let up your assault, instead increasing the pace at which you stroked her insides with your index finger and up the ante in other ways. Instead of kissing, you begin to gently nip and bite at her neck, being careful to not pierce the skin with your fangs. You can immediately tell your efforts are having an effect on her, a choked mix of a groan and a moan leaving her lips.

“God, please… I’m going to haah~ c-” she says, another groan cutting her off mid-sentence.

You nip at her neck more often knowing how close she is to getting hers, feeling the sticky, almost syrupy femcum drool out past your digit. A steady stream of gasps and expletives leave her lips as you continue to drive her closer and closer to the edge. You grope her breasts with your other free hand, softly pinching her nipple between two fingers, causing her to gasp out, feeling her hot breath on your ear. While she’s not doing much for you, knowing that she’s lost in pleasure is satisfaction enough, her nails digging into your fur and nearly piercing the skin underneath. You’ve got her practically pinned under your body, your fingers practically playing the poor girl like an instrument. You feel her thrash hard, and you know exactly why as she moans out your name, squirming under you like a fish out of water as you pull her into another kiss to muffle her sounds. Your palm is quickly covered in her juices, her panties absolutely drenched by this point, and your sheets are likely going to need changing after the two of you are done. The smell of her arousal is thick in the air, your strong sense of smell practically drowning in the scent. Muffling her with your lips as she rides out her orgasm has been a good choice if the moans she lets off into your mouth are any indication. The way she pulls you tight to her now sweaty body is turning you on, pushing your finger knuckle deep into her as the last waves of her orgasm wash over her. She pushes you away, gasping for air as she struggles to recover from what she’d just experienced.

“Oh my god, that... was… just… wow,” she says, swallowing before continuing. “I didn’t think it could be that good.”

You smile at her words, giving her a quick peck on the lips. “There’s more where that came from. I’m glad you liked it though.”

She blushes at your unexpected display of affection, quickly looking away from your intense gaze. “I want to do something for you too.”

You touch a furred finger to her nose and softly tap it, a smirk forming on your face. “Oh yeah, like what?”

“I dunno,” she says, clearly unsure of what she could do for you. “What kind of things do you normally do with girls?”

“You ever heard of scissoring before? Well, there’s something kind of similar that feels really good for both partners.”

“I think I’ve heard of it before, but what is it exactly?”

“It’s kind of hard to explain, but it’s sort of like grinding,” you say, struggling to find a better to way to explain it to her. “It’s probably better if I just show you what I mean. I mean, if you’re up for... you know, going again, that is.”

“I’m okay with going again,” she mutters, still blushing ever so slightly from earlier. “Do I have to be on my back again?”

“It’ll work better if you are,” you say, pushing her over to lay flat on her back, moving to straddle her prone body. “Plus, I’ll be doing most of the work and you can just sit back and enjoy the ride this way.”

You take off your panties, then hers and lean in to kiss her before you’re interrupted by her pushing you away.

“Are you uh, going to take off those bandages?” she asks, her hands gripping your shoulders while she looks you straight in the eyes. “It’s alright if you don’t want to, I just thought it might be better if I can, you know… touch them.”

You hadn’t really given it much thought, typically preferring to keep them on in the bedroom unless you had ample time to prepare beforehand. You’d be lying if you said her thoughtfulness doesn’t bring a smile to your face, reaching back to find the sweet spot where the bandages are connected. She sat up slightly, reaching her hands around your body to touch your own, doing her best to help you to undo the bandages. With a little bit of guidance from you, she manages to undo the cloth fairly quickly, the various strands falling from your body, slowly exposing your breasts to the air and subsequently, to her watching eyes. Letting them breathe feels surprisingly good, and you push her back down onto the bed, leaning in to kiss her once again. As you lock lips again, your tongues intertwining and swapping your alcohol-laced saliva, you can feel her legs wrapping around your pelvis, ensuring you are held tight to her as your privates press together. As you continued your passionate kiss, you can feel your arousal grow stronger, the sticky fluids she lets out intermingling with yours and dripping down her slit to dirty the sheets underneath.

As the two of you break away, you start to grind your hips against hers, letting out a soft, breathy moan as your button grinds against her soft, pliable skin. The pleasure only eggs you on to make her feel a similar sensation, putting your mouth up to her breast, flicking your long tongue against her nipple, causing her to twitch beneath you. You take her nipple into your mouth, continuing your flicking and licking as you continue to grind your lower bodies together, Sophia doing her best to match your movements, moaning out in pleasure as your fur tickles at her clit. The sweat coming off her body dampens your fur, but the scent of it combines with the already thick smell of arousal already in the air and only further encourages you to try your hardest to get her off. You pause your licking the moment you feel her hands on your breasts, her fingers running gentle circles around your areola, and you have to fight the urge to moan out by biting your lower lip each time her fingers brush over your nipples. For a complete novice to this kind of thing, she is really damn good at being an active participant, feeling her softly kiss at your neck.

“Harder… please…” she says, sending a shiver through your body, some of your fur standing on end from the words dripping with lust and need. “Oh, nngh- god…I’m gonna haah~ cum again.”

You continue flicking at her nipple with your tongue, mixing it up every now and then by pinching it between your tongue and the roof of your mouth, sucking hard on it after. Your efforts don’t go unnoticed as she continues to grind harder against you, her legs holding you tighter to her as she approaches her climax for the second time tonight. You can feel your own end approaching despite her relative inexperience, each kiss she plants on your neck only pushing you closer and closer to the edge. Wanting to expedite the process, you reach a hand down and rub at her button as you continue to grind against her, simultaneously bringing your mouth off her breast and pulling her into a deep, forceful kiss with your other free hand. You shove your tongue into her mouth with fervor, rubbing at her clit even faster as you share a passionate, breathtaking kiss. You can feel her start to convulse under you, the spasm of her sweaty body against yours finally bringing you over the edge, slowing your kiss as you finally get the release you so desperately need. The room is quickly filled with a cacophony of muffled groans and moans, your fluids splashing on one another, quickly dripping down your legs to pool on the sheets below as if to leave a temporary reminder of your lewd acts. You can feel her hot breath mingling with yours as you both struggle to catch your breath, finally collapsing on top of her as your arms give out.

“You’re haah- pretty good for a first-timer,” you laugh, staring into the eyes of the girl pinned underneath your body. “Are you sure you haven’t done this before?”

“I was just hah- following your lead,” she shoots back, giving you a quick peck on the lips. “You’re a pretty damn good tutor for this kind of thing.”

You quickly roll off her, resting your head on the same pillow she was occupying, scooting closer to her. The sheets feel a bit damp from your romp, but neither of you were really in a mood to get up and change the sheets, instead opting to bask in the afterglow. You decide to ask her something while you still have her attention, her fluttering eyes telling you she’s close to falling asleep.

“So, what’d you think?” you ask, hugging her tight to your furred body. “Good enough to make this a regular thing?”

“Hmm… I think we’ll have to do it a few more times,” she chuckles, running her hands through your fur. “You know, just to be sure.”

“Not saying no to that,” you say, tapping her nose lightly before running your fingers through her silky hair. “Goodnight Soph.”

“Goodnight Taylor.”

You don’t know what to think about how something as innocent as a minigolf date led to sex with the girl you’ve only considered a friend until this point. If you are being honest, you feel lucky that she’s been as accepting of the fact that you lied to her about who you are, thanking the stars that you’d be able to stay friends. You take a deep breath and take in the sight of the beautiful girl at your side before closing your eyes, throwing the sheets over the two of you. Once you’re enveloped in the warmth of the thick comforter, sleep quickly takes you, drifting off into a peaceful slumber.

-

You should’ve listened to the voice in your head telling you to stop drinking last night because you haven’t even opened your eyes and your head is already pounding. The sunlight shining through the gaps in the curtain isn’t helping matters any, the light forcing your eyes open. You open your eyes to see Taylor fast asleep next to you, one of her arms still wrapped around you. You don’t want to disrupt her peaceful sleep, instead watching her chest rise with each soft inhale she takes. You do your best to move the arm draped over you to no avail, instead opting to reach for the nightstand on your right for a glass of water that you don’t remember being there the night before. After scooching away from her sleeping body a tiny bit, you manage to sit upright, downing the entire glass of water in seconds. You quickly realize you aren’t wearing your glasses either, only amplifying the faint hint of nausea from your hangover. You quickly look around to see if they fell onto the bed while you slept, but can’t spot them no matter how hard you try. After some more searching, you quickly realize they’re probably in the nightstand drawer, opening it to reveal your plastic-framed glasses. Your vision having returned to normal combined with the glass of water you’d just chugged makes you feel a lot more confident that you’ll soon be rid of your hangover. You scooch closer to her once again, content with feeling her fur against your nude body, admiring all the little details in the way she slept. Her large nostrils flaring ever so slightly, the little huffs she made each time she felt you move against her and best of all, the genuine smile plastered on her face. You’ve never really had romantic feelings for a girl before, nor did you really understand it before this experience, but it makes sense to you now. Your friendship has blossomed into something more, even if the company was enjoyed under false pretenses initially.

Your train of thought is quickly interrupted by her drowsy stirring, mumbling nonsense as she’s slowly thrust headfirst into the waking world. A sleepy yawn leaves her mouth, her eyes fluttering for a moment before fully opening. She returns your smile when she finally sees you at her side, leaning in closer to give you a quick peck on the lips that stirs up the butterflies in your stomach. You both sit there and appreciate each other’s presence for a short while before one of you finally break the silence.

“Morning, Taylor.”

“Mmm, morning, Soph,” she says, moving a stray lock of your hair out of the way. “You haven’t been waiting too long for me to wake up, I hope?”

“Not too long, though I had your arm to keep me company,” you laugh, unceremoniously taking her arm off your side. “Could go for some breakfast though, you got any cereal by chance?”

She quickly pulls the sheets off herself. “Yeah, I’ve got a couple different kinds in the kitchen. Give me a second and I’ll join you, my head is pounding right now.”

“Want me to get you some water?” you ask, throwing your legs off the side of the bed. “Think I drank yours, sorry.”

“Yeah, that’d be nice, thanks,” she says, closing her eyes in an attempt to get some temporary relief.

You quickly make your way to the kitchen, passing through the spotless hallways only to find the kitchen is in the same state, so pristine you could likely eat off the floors. You rummage through the cabinets until you find a clean glass, making your way to the sink and filling it up before you rejoin her in the bedroom.

“Here you go, Taylor,” you say, handing her the glass of water. “I can get you some more if you want.”

“Chloe, actually,” she says, leaving you confused for a moment. “And it’s alright, I think I’ll be fine with this.”

“I’m sorry?” you ask, not sure what to respond with.

“My name isn’t actually Taylor. I mean, it is my name, just not my first name. I typically tell people to call me Taylor, but my first name is actually Chloe.”

“Oh,” you say, a little confused and a tiny bit hurt by the fact that she hadn’t told you this the night before, though you could likely chalk it up to the alcohol. “It’s a nice name.”

She sets down the glass on the nightstand, throwing her legs off the edge of the bed. “Thanks, you mind helping me up? The room is spinning a little.”

You approach the bed and crouch down slightly, letting her put an arm over your shoulder, then quickly helping her up. You slowly make your way down the hallway together, blushing when you realize the two of you are still in your birthday suits, doing your best not to stare at her body. It came as such a surprise to you that she was a girl that you almost thought it was a joke at first, but her sizeable breasts cleared up any confusion you may have had about it. You always heard the joke about college lesbians, but you never thought it’d happen to you. After you make it to the kitchen, you help her take a seat on one of the stools by the small breakfast nook.

You pour another glass of water and hand it off to her, her headache clearly not having gone away judging from the way she’s clutching her head. “You want me to make you something to eat?”

“Just some toast if you don’t mind,” she says, still clutching her head as she downs the entire glass of water. “Don’t think I can stomach anything else right now.”

You grab some bread and drop it into the toaster before digging through the cupboards for a plate and bowl. “Where do you keep the cereal.”

She points over to a white door by the fridge. “Over there in the pantry, help yourself to some milk if you want.”

You rummage through the pantry and grab the box of frosted flakes, fixing yourself up a bowl before returning your attention to the toast. “You want me to butter it for you?”

“Yeah, that’d be great,” she says, calling over from the breakfast nook. “And a glass of orange juice if it’s not too much trouble.”

You quickly butter the toast and plate it, then pour a glass of orange juice before bringing both to her. You then double back to the kitchen to grab your bowl of cereal and join her at the table. The two of you eat your meal in awkward silence, avoiding speaking for fear of irritating her hangover further. Eventually, Chloe breaks the silence as she finishes taking a sip of her drink.

“So, when do you want me to take you back to campus? Figure we can swing by the golf place and pick up my bike as soon as my head stops killing me.”

“I mean, I could uh, stay the weekend if you want. Not like I really have anything else to do today or tomorrow. Could work on the project some if you’re feeling up to it later, though I left my laptop back at the dorm.”

“You sure you don’t mind? Shouldn’t take me more than an hour or two to get you back if you want it.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you say, taking another spoonful of your cereal before continuing. “Besides, maybe we can have some more fun tonight...”

“And here I was thinking you’d regret it the next morning,” she laughs, nearly choking on a piece of her toast. “How about I rent out a movie and order some takeout for us later then? Don’t feel like cooking tonight, especially with this monster of a headache I’ve got.”

“Sounds good,” you say, finishing the last of your cereal.

“Great, how does Chinese food sound? There’s this great little place nearby that does delivery. I think the lady knows me by name at this point so she always throws in something for free.”

“Sounds fine, what kind of movie were you thinking about renting?”

“You like thrillers? Was thinking about one of those, but I’ve also got a couple of DVDs over there if you want to take a quick look,” she says, pointing towards the entertainment console.

You walk over to the console and open it up, pulling out some of the cases and checking the titles. “Jesus, some of these are from like 2005, Chloe. When’s the last time you bought a new movie?”

“Pfft, the stuff coming out these days is a bore half the time. Besides, I gotta have something in there you haven’t watched that looks interesting.”

You grab a few cases that catch your eye and bring them with you to the nearby couch. “These look alright, but it’s a little early to be watching a horror movie.”

She quickly leaves her seat at the breakfast nook to join you on the couch. “Well, we can do something else until then if you want, just let me know when you get hungry so I can order some food.”

“Not sure what else we could do but maybe watch some TV,” you say, leaning forward to grab the remote from the coffee table.

“Well, we could talk about stuff if you don’t feel up to watching TV,” she shoots back, snatching the remote from your hands and turning the TV off.

“Like what?”

“How’d you like that book you were reading?” she asks, nervously fidgeting in her seat. “If you uh, finished it, that is.”

You are a little skeptical about where her line of questioning is going but you replied in earnest anyway. “I finished it, I thought it was pretty well written for a smutty romance book.”

Her fidgeting only got worse at your answer, Chloe nervously scratching and rubbing at the fur on her neck as a blush appeared on her features. “I more meant uh, how’d you like the… smutty parts?”

Now it’s your turn to be embarrassed, remembering exactly what you’d done while you read the smuttier parts of the book. “I mean, I guess they were pretty uh, hot. The part where they had sex in the cabin of the boat was the best one I think.”

She lights up at the sheer mention of the scene. “Right? That was my favorite one too, I liked the part where the guy uh, tied her legs down…”

“The one where he starts planting kisses from her thighs to her breasts? It was pretty damn good, yeah,” you admit, feeling oddly comfortable discussing this kind of thing with her.

“I know this is going to sound weird and all considering we’ve only had sex once, but would you maybe… want to try that kind of thing sometime?”

Your blush only deepens at her straightforward question. “What exactly do you mean by ‘that kind of thing’?”

“Some uh… not sure how to explain it, but it’s sort of like bondage?”

“Sort of in what way? You’re not into anything like being called mistress, are you?” you ask, carefully wording your question as to not offend.

“No! No, it’s not anything like that, I’ve just... always wanted to try something with bindings or even a collar,” she says, her dejected expression telling you this wasn’t working out the way she planned it to. “It’s dumb though, I don’t even know why I mentioned it since I barely know you. Forget I even said anything.”

“I didn’t it mean it like that. I just wanted to know how into it you were is all…I wouldn’t be against trying it once, honestly.”

Her eyes light up at your words, her enthusiasm startling you at first. “Wait, really? Like, right now? I’ve had to stuff in my bedroom forever, I’ve just never been able to try it before an-”

“Alright, alright, take it easy, Chloe,” you say, interrupting the girl mid-babble, whatever remained of her hangover seemingly vanishing. “I’m alright with trying it right now if you are, but you’ll have to take things easy, alright? Yesterday was my first time with a girl and I’ve never done anything even remotely close to bondage.”

“Sorry, kind of got carried away since nobody’s ever said they’d be willing to do it,” she says, wrapping her hand around yours. “I’ll make sure to not get carried away, we’ll even set up a safe word and everything just in case you want me to stop, alright?”

Her reassurances do a good job at melting away what little anxiety you had at the thought of accepting her proposal. But you still have a burning question that needed some clarification from her. “So in this uh, fantasy of yours, which one of us would be the uh, bottom?”

“Would it be weird if I said I wanted you to be it? It’ll just be roleplay, but I’ve really, really wanted to do this with someone for a long time.”

You don’t exactly know how to feel about that. But given the fact that you’d fantasized about being submissive when you were reading the book, it was safe to say you might enjoy the role play. “Not that much really, I’m willing to try it, so long as you teach me the ropes.”

She groans at your wordplay, but not before suppressing a chuckle. “Really?”

“Sorry, couldn’t resist,” you say, a shit-eating grin on your face.

“No, not the joke,” she says, the smile on her face telling you she appreciated you being a good sport about things.” About you being willing to be the bottom.”

“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t kind of into the idea if it’s anything like what we did yesterday.”

She gets off the couch and takes you by the hand, practically dragging you towards the bedroom. “May as well get started right now then, if we still want to have time to watch a movie later.”

Moments later, the two of you are in her bedroom once again. You let her take the lead, allowing her to take your hand and guide you to the edge of the bed.

“Sit down and close your eyes, don’t open them until I say you can,” she says, her excited expression betraying her calm tone.

Still, you follow her instructions to the letter and close your eyes tight. You wait patiently, hearing the opening of what sounds like a drawer, Chloe presumably rummaging through it to look for the stuff she mentioned having stashed away in her bedroom. You tense up a bit when you hear her close the drawer, standing as still as possible as you hear her start walking towards you.

“Alright, you can open your eyes now.”

You open your eyes and see she’s holding something in each hand, a black collar with a red leash in one and a medium-sized, flesh-colored dildo in the other. The sight of it is enough to make you a bit hot under the collar, chiding yourself for making puns at a time like this.

“You ready for me to put it on you?” she asks, undoing the clasp on the collar.
You slowly nod and tilt your head upwards slightly to make it easier on her. “Go ahead.”

You can feel her fur brush against the exposed skin on your neck as she adjusts the collar before putting the clasp back into place.

“How does it feel? If it’s too tight I can loosen the clasp a little bit, just let me know.”

“It feels fine to me,” you admit, tugging on the collar a bit to confirm it isn’t too tight. “What about the safe word thing you mentioned?”

“Oh, right. So just think of a word that isn’t too common and if you feel like things are getting to be too much for you, you can say the word and I’ll stop immediately.

“Alright, let me think of something,” you say, mentally searching for something you wouldn’t be saying during sex. “Got it. Eggplant will be the safe word.”

“Eggplant it is then,” she says, smiling as she looms over you, moving closer to attach the leash to the collar before wrapping the other end around her hand. “You ready to start?”

“Yeah, but I’ve got a question before we do. What’s the dildo for?”

“It’s for you to… you know, sit on,” she says, her blush once again betraying her dominant composure.

“And how exactly am I meant to do that while I’m on the bed?”

The moment you ask the question a wide grin takes over her features as if she’s been waiting forever for you to ask that exact question.

“Stand up real quick and I’ll show you exactly how,” she says, tugging on the leash ever so slightly as to encourage you.

You stand up to your full height and watch as she bends over to set down the dildo on the floor, her nethers on full display to you as she does. After making sure the suction cup is firmly attached to the floor she turns back to you, the same wide grin still on her face. “Now, kneel down.”

You comply with the command once more, not exactly sure how this was supposed to help you understand how to sit on the dildo as she’d mentioned. She walks back towards the edge of the bed, giving the leash some slack as she does. She gives the leash a slight tug, causing you to jerk forwards slightly. “Come closer.”

You crawl on your knees towards her, feeling oddly aroused just from taking a few orders from her. So much in fact, that you can feel a bead of your own arousal running down your thigh, doing your best to hide that fact from her as you continue moving towards her. You continue until you move over the dildo, stifling the urge to let out a moan when the silicone rubs against your button. The second you’re over it she gives you another command. “Stop.”

She scoots as close to you as possible while remaining seated on the edge of the bed, tugging the leash once more. She parts her legs before barking out another command, her crotch on full display and at eye level. “Sit on it.”

You assume she means the dildo, so you back up slightly and lifted up your rear end as you used your free hand to line it up with yourself. You can’t help but let out a shaky gasp as the head slips into your folds with ease, slowly easing yourself down onto it. While you’ve had sex with guys before, this is your first time using a dildo of any kind, short of makeshift stuff you’ve used as a suitable replacement. While it isn’t very long, the sheer girth of it fills and even stretches your insides nicely. Once you get every inch of it inside you let out a breathy, soft moan, unable to hold yourself back this time. You look up at Chloe and she seems amused by the expression on your face, beads of sweat beginning to roll down your skin from the exertion. The sultry gaze she gives you only serves to heighten your arousal further, watching as she tugs on the collar to bring you forward, catching your head between her powerful, furred thighs. She uses one of her free hands to tilt your head upward to meet her gaze, running her claw gently around your neck. You can’t help but shudder at the sensation, her sharp claw barely tickling at the sensitive skin. You’re almost positive you know what direction this is going, but the hand you soon feel at the back of your head only confirms your prediction.

She continues to inch forward, her fur brushing against your cheeks as her thighs shift around to allow her to move closer. It’s not a very strong smell, but it soon begins to flood your nostrils nonetheless. While her nethers are less than an inch away from your mouth, you still look up to her for approval before continuing. She slowly nods, giving her approval without uttering a single word. You flick your tongue out at her lower lips, teasing at the pearl hidden amongst the softer tufts of fur around it. Immediately you can feel the effects of your licks, hearing a muffled gasp as her thighs tighten ever so slightly around your head. You continue with your slow pace, delicately teasing her folds with your tongue. As you continue to lap up whatever fluids dribbled out, egged on by every twitch and moan she let loose, you can feel her start to slowly apply pressure with the hand resting on your head. She drives your head deeper into her sex, and suddenly you find yourself unable to breathe through your mouth, each breath you draw in through your nose only flooding your senses with the almost musky scent of her desire. You’ve never given oral to a girl before so everything you are doing feels new and exciting, and you can’t help but buck your hips and grind your walls against the dildo currently lodged deep inside you.

You’d heard from someone that tracing out the letters of the alphabet with your tongue was a good way to get started, especially if you are a complete novice to oral sex. It seems like a silly method, but judging from the way she continues belting out moans and gasps, it is an effective one. You are quickly running out of breath though, reaching a free hand to tap the outside of her thigh. She quickly takes notice and tugs the leash backward to separate your lips from hers. You can feel her sticky femcum dribble down your chin and onto the floor as you struggle to catch your breath. She tilts your head up once more and leans down to join her lips with yours, surprised at how eager she was to kiss you. Your tongues wrestle for dominance and you knew she can undeniably taste herself on your tongue, a fact that arouses you to no end. Leaning forward comes at the cost of having to partially lift yourself off the toy between your legs, the toy sliding out with relative ease.

She breaks the kiss, a strand of your combined saliva still connecting you both. Her hand still resting on the back of your head, she whispers out another command before pushing your head back down. “Get back down there and make me cum, Sophia.”

You can’t help but shudder at the command, resuming your licking and following through with what you were ordered to do. You blindly feel around between your legs for the dildo, grasping it firmly and pulling it off the floor with a pop. After doing so, you firmly grasp the base and use your other hand to carefully line it up as you continue tracing out the letters of the alphabet with your tongue. She takes a handful of your hair on the letters m and n, so you decide to continue repeating those for best results. By this point, the entirety of your chin and neck are drenched in her sticky femcum, and you redirect your attention to the dildo between your legs. You want to get yours, so using both hands, you pump the dildo in and out of your needy insides, your arousal making the task a breeze. You continue attending to her need as you pump, only stopping to catch your breath or let out a moan when the pleasure starts to overwhelm you. You swear you hear her growl at one point, feeling her press your head deeper into her sex when she does. The combined sensations and faint squelching only aid in pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

You can sense she’s equally close to her end, her body betraying her dominant demeanor by twitching around you as you continue to drive your tongue deeper into her dripping need. Her thighs press so tightly around your head it is starting to hurt slightly, but you persevere in order to continue trying to get her off. You reach a hand up to rub at her button while you continue curling your tongue in an attempt to reach her deepest parts.

“Oh god… f-fuck,” you hear her moan out as she starts to twitch around you. “Please, d-don’t stop.”

You think there is something ironic about her begging for release considering your respective roles, but your tongue is too occupied to say anything about it. You feel a sudden splash of her femcum hit your mouth, and you are confident it is a sign that you finally managed to push her over the edge. Despite your amateur attempts, you’d finally gotten her off, holding your breath as long as you could as you continued to lick and rub at her sex as she is wracked by the throes of her orgasm. You can feel her unintentionally tug at the collar as she writhes in pleasure above you, grasping more and more of your hair for support. More and more of her fluids dribble out of her and you can’t help but lap up every drop of her slightly salty femcum. When you absolutely can’t go any longer without taking a breath, you pull your head back to take in a deep breath, being hit once more by the heady scent of her arousal. You can feel her grip loosen as she starts to come down from the more intense bits of her orgasm.

What you weren’t expecting was her to throw herself back onto her bed, tugging on the leash to bring you upright and onto her. In just moments you go from being between her thighs to gazing into her beautiful eyes, watching her pant as she tries to catch her breath. You can feel her heaving chest against your own, the thump of each other’s heartbeats still audible over the sounds of your heavy breathing. After she regains her breath she tugs on the collar to bring you down into her further, pressing her mouth against yours for a deep kiss. In this position, she rolls over to put herself on top of you, something that takes you by surprise despite being okay with it.

She breaks away for a moment to speak. “Did you… haah- get off?”

You almost lie to her about it so she doesn’t have to worry, but the concern in her eyes is enough to have you shaking your head no in response. Without hesitation, she starts crawling back towards the edge of the bed, the tickle of her fur as she trails kisses from your breast to your midsection enough to have you shiver and twitch from the sensation. The skin on your arms quickly turns to gooseflesh when you feel her warm tongue quickly lash out and make contact with your midsection. She quickly retracts her tongue and continues planting kisses around your groin, slowly working her way down to your needy, soaked sex. You feel her tongue again, but this time she only uses the tip of her tongue to fish out and start to tease your pearl, biting your lower lip in an effort to stifle a moan.

“Please….” you gasp out, unable to control yourself under her experienced tongue. “I’m nnf~ so close….”

She uses her thumb to rub your button as she presses the tip of her tongue against your entrance, probing for access. There’s no way you’re going to last longer than a minute with her technique, but you attempt to hold out as she continues to drive her tongue deeper and deeper inside you. The way her tongue probes at your inner walls has you shamelessly belting out loud moans, not a care in the world for whatever neighbors might be listening. You can feel your own lubrication dribble out of you, craning your neck slightly to see her hard at work, still rolling your clit between her thumb and index finger. As you feel your end approach for what seems like the third time this morning, you can’t help but let out a high-pitched groan. Her rubbing, pinching and licking only increase in speed and intensity upon hearing the way she’s making you feel. Your body goes rigid as the first waves of your orgasm crash into you, your teeth clenching as you douse the face of the girl between your legs with your sticky femcum. You watch as she eagerly and diligently laps up every single drop she can manage, throwing your head back onto the sheets as you continue to ride out your orgasm. You can feel your toes curling as you continue to twitch, the rest of your legs pinned down by her arms. As your orgasm peters out, you can see her finally come up for breath, shuddering one last time as you feel her withdrawing her long tongue from your insides. She slowly climbs up the bed towards you, and you feel her warm breath wash over your face as she struggles to catch her breath. She brings you into a slow kiss, feeling her damp fur against yours as her tongue worms its way into your mouth. You can taste yourself on her tongue, feeling a faint hint of the same salty taste she had. She quickly breaks away after a minute or so of her deep kissing, rolling over to lay on her side, facing you. You quickly adjust yourself to face her, a satisfied smile on both of your faces.

“You know- haah~ -you’re not so bad for someone who’s never done that before,” she says, still panting ever so slightly from the exertion. “I honestly didn’t think things were going to be over that soon.”

You blush at her praise. “Thanks, though you’re still way better than me at it.”

“It’s all just practice,” she says. “You still game to watch a movie together?”

“You’ll have to carry me to the living room because I can’t feel my legs right now,” you laugh, playing with an errant strand of her hair. “I’m content with just laying here with you for a little while.”

She scooches in closer and strokes your cheek with her thumb. “It’s going to sound sappy coming from me because you only know me as someone stoic but… I’m really glad I met you, Sophia.”

“And I’m really glad I met you,” you smile, leaning in to give her a peck on the lips. “I think this is going to be a good freshman year for both of us.”

“Here’s hoping,” she says, returning the smile.

You throw the sheets over both of you, staring into each other’s eyes until you feel your eyes start to flutter, the exertion quickly wiping out whatever energy you’d woken up with. You kiss the damp fur on her forehead before closing your eyes, quickly drifting off to sleep.

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Pub: 22 Feb 2021 05:47 UTC
Edit: 22 Feb 2021 05:47 UTC
Views: 693