Would You Rather

N17 - WYR: force your FWB to go home or discuss your academic plan with him?

FINLEY

I fuck him stupid. And then I do it again the next night and when he texts me after his game "need you. Might last abt as long as you're supposed to wait before throwing the holy hand grenade but I need you." and I decide to do it again. I have an exam early in this week, shifts the next few days on the ambulance, and hospital hours the days after that, so it's looking like tonight is the only time I'll get my dose of anti-anxiety sex before he's shipped halfway to Europe to play a bunch of east coast teams and I need that dose.

And he's right. People need three or four times before they really click. Three or four or five on each skill, maybe more. It took him three tries to get me to come from oral but it took me four to give him a hand job successfully. I don't come easily from just penetration but he doesn't let that stop him and when it clicks, his hair still wet from a post-game shower, it clicks.

It clicks and I dig my nails into his back and moan helplessly against his throat.

"There?" He asks, breathless against my hair.

"Yeah, yep," I grip the back of his neck with one hand and he looks at me, blazing blue eyes on mine. I look back. The cut on his eyebrow is still so fresh you can tell when his blood pressure is up by how red it is. I reach up and stroke my thumb over it, turning it white, red, white, pulling him into another kiss, mouth red and swollen and I can tell he's tired and shaky but I'm so close.

"What do you need?"

"Angle, just," I press my heel into the sheet, lifting my hips to meet him and I feel his whole body go tight, a gasp breaking out of him right as the pressure in my core expands and pops like a supervolcano. I grab onto him and hold tight, his fingers gripping the sheet next to me, desperately trying to kiss through it but it's useless.

We collapse into each other after a moment, his big body spread out in my sheets, condom barely discarded, his head on my collar.

"Jesus," he whispers, letting me catch my breath, watching one of his legs reach out, ankle flexing against the end of my bed to stretch his calf. I watch the bands of muscle move beneath his skin, stretching, releasing, stretching again. "Never had that happen."

"Mhmm," I mumble in agreement, running my fingers back and forth through his damp hair.

He tries to push himself upward, arms shaking, but gives up when he's only halfway off my body. Our legs are still together.

"I might fall asleep," he mumbles against my pillow.

"You normally don't come after games, no pun intended, it's not a huge surprise that you're gassed."

He flicks up half a smile, eyes fluttered closed, and flicks my shoulder, "hah."

We're silent for a long few moments and I think he's actually fallen asleep so I lay back, reaching for my laptop.

The tab is open. A group of emails written. My GRE scores are up. Fidan's arm is looped around my stomach and it's providing a good laptop stand.

He blinks twenty minutes later and finds me staring at the same email I've been looking at without doing anything.

His eyes narrow and I minimize the tab as fast as I can, shifting, looking at him. He looks back, yawning.

"What was that?" He mumbles, tightening his arm while stretching out again.

"Um," I look at my blank home screen. "I..."

"S'okay if you don't want to tell me," he mumbles against the pillow, rolling to face down.