Living at the Frat House - A College Romance

I’m not exactly sure how it’s possible. I’m not someone who falls into feelings easily, but after today and the threat of losing her because I wasn’t careful, those feelings are rising up in full force.

Juno quakes again, another orgasm hitting her hard and fast. I wrap my arms around her and fuck her as hard as I can without letting us collapse, racing towards my own climax like a freight train. It’s glorious, sweet, slick friction, and I have to close my eyes.

Pleasure builds, and I yell her name as I pull out at the last second, my orgasm flooding over her skin and washed away in the flow. The temptation to keep myself buried and feel myself truly fill her up was strong, but I would never do that, and I’m lost to the light shining behind my eyes while pleasure writhes down my cock.

“Shit,” I say, when I come back. “That was good.”

“You don’t even know,” she says, leaning against me. We’re both losing steam, and I need to have her close to me still. So time for a change of venue.

I make sure the last of my cum is washed off her skin and shut off the water before wrapping her in her towel and lifting her up. I carry her to my room and lay her on the bed before drying myself off briefly and joining her. I don’t care that her hair is soaking into my sheets. I only care that she’s underneath me when I climb over her. I care about the sweet taste of her lips under mine. I care that I can feel the flush of heat from her body as I unwrap her so that we’re still skin to skin.

I care about this girl.

“Juno,” I say. “This is different than I thought it would be. You and me.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that it’s been a week…and yet it doesn’t feel like that to me. It’s way more than that.”

She bites her lip. “You know there’s a statistic that says something like seventy-five percent of college relationships fail? That’s a big percent.”

“That means that a quarter of them don’t fail.”

Her eyes go wide, and breath shallow. “There’s a lot of other statistics too. I looked into a bunch of them before I came because I’m kind of a data nerd. Charts and spreadsheets. That kind of thing.”

She’s panicking. And not ready to talk about it. I get that. It’s early, especially for me. But I still can’t ignore the little sting in my chest. I think she might feel the same, but I can’t force her to acknowledge it. It’s not an easy thing to realize.

But it’s okay, there’s another thing that we need to talk about. “Can I ask about what you said back there?”

“I would think that ‘yes,’ and ‘fuck,’ and ‘please,’ were pretty self-explanatory.”

I laugh. “No, I mean that you said you shouldn’t enjoy being my pet.”

“I shouldn’t,” she says, closing her eyes. “I shouldn’t.”

“Tell me why.”

She shifts underneath me, and looks uncomfortable. But not physically. I kiss her to bring her back to me, enjoying the feel of her body easing in reaction to mine. “Because it’s not how I should let people treat me,” she says. “If I told anyone I let you boss me around and that I liked it. That you telling me that I’m not allowed to come or that you’ll punish me if I do turns me on? They would say that I should leave you entirely. That I was crazy and being…I don’t know abused. I know it’s not that,” she says, slipping her hand up and pressing her hand to her heart. “I feel it here. But there has to be something wrong with me.”

“Is there something wrong with me for wanting to boss you around? That I like knowing I can keep you from coming or tie you down and tease you while there’s nothing you can do about it?”

She looks confused for a moment. “Maybe.”

I meet her eyes, searching those gorgeous green depths. “I don’t know a lot about this,” I say, “but I know we’re not the only ones. You know that too. I’m working on instinct and what feels good, but I will do the research. I’ll make sure you know that there’s nothing wrong with it, because what we do is our business and no one else’s. I don’t give a fuck, no one else can tell you what you enjoy during sex any more than they can tell you that you’re not allowed to enjoy ice cream.”

“It feels weird.”

I nod. “Yes, it does. And if I were forcing you to do it, it would be wrong.”

“But you’re not,” Juno finishes for me.

“And that makes all the difference.”

A small smile plays on her lips. “Yeah.”