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The bass thumped heavily in the house, rattling cheap wall decorations and making the liquor slosh in the red cup Xavier held lazily in his fingers. The game had been going on for a while, drinks making people bolder, more reckless, but he hadn’t expected the question when it came.
“Xavier,” some sophomore he barely knew leaned in, grinning. “Truth or dare?”
He barely even thought about it. “Truth.”
A few knowing glances, giggles from the peanut gallery. Someone was setting this up.
“Is it true—” The girl dragged out the words, probably already drunk enough to forget saying them in the morning. “That you’ve got, like, a massive dick?”
Xavier exhaled through his nose, completely unimpressed. He could’ve laughed, could’ve rolled his eyes, but instead he just took another sip from his cup and said, “Yeah.”
No elaboration. No bravado. Just a fact.
And across from him, she—dark-eyed, skeptical, mouth curled like she’d just smelled bullshit—let out a scoff.
She’d heard it before. Whispers in the dorms. Girls who got drunk enough to spill details, words laced with awe, frustration, and sometimes just straight-up disbelief. “It wouldn’t fit.” Please. What kind of excuse was that? Maybe they just weren’t ready for it, maybe they didn’t know what the fuck they were doing. Either way, she wasn’t buying it.
“Prove it.”
The words left her mouth before she had time to second-guess them, before her brain even caught up with her body. A beat of silence, the air in the circle tightening, a few surprised laughs from the crowd.
Xavier’s brows lifted slightly. Then, just as quick, he smirked—lazy, teasing, but there was something else in his expression too. Something knowing.
He stood up, stretching to his full height, six-foot-one of broad-shouldered, lean muscle in that way athletes tended to be—solid, built, but not bulky. The hoodie he was wearing bunched slightly at the sleeves, riding up just enough to flash a sliver of defined stomach before settling again.
He held out his hand.
“Okay,” he said, voice smooth, casual, but the weight behind it undeniable. “But if you come with me, you have to take it.”
A slow, knowing murmur spread through the circle like a wave rolling through the party. A few people whispered to each other, already making bets.
Her heart kicked up a little—not from nerves, but from the sheer brazenness of it. He wasn’t hesitating, wasn’t blushing, wasn’t playing coy. If anything, he seemed entirely at ease, like he already knew how this was gonna end.
She could back down. Laugh it off, say she was joking. Or she could call the bluff completely.
Fuck it.
She set her drink down on the floor beside the couch, wiped her palms against the denim of her jeans, and slid her hand into his.
Xavier’s fingers closed around hers, firm but not too tight, and he pulled her to her feet effortlessly. There was a weight behind the gesture—not forceful, not demanding, just confident, self-assured.
Xavier barely glanced at the people still lingering in the party as he pulled her toward the stairs, cutting a direct path through the bodies like he had done this a thousand times before. He could feel the eyes on him, the half-drunken murmurs of people placing bets, but it didn’t matter. None of them were coming with him; none of them had made the deal she did. He didn’t slow down, didn’t check if she was hesitating, because he already knew she was following.
Upstairs, the door clicked shut behind them, shutting out the chaos, but the bass still trembled beneath their feet, like the house itself was waiting to see what happened next. The air was different up here—heavier, warmer, thick with unspoken tension. She had asked for this, and he was going to deliver, but he wasn’t going to hold her hand through it. If she wanted to doubt him, to call him a liar, then she’d damn well deal with the consequences.
He turned to face her, slow, deliberate, his gaze raking over her like he was already bored. His hands were still loose in his pockets, utterly unbothered, because this was routine for him. She was just another girl who thought she was clever, thought she’d heard it all before, thought she was immune to rumors. He gave her a lazy once-over before arching a brow.
“You don’t believe them.” It wasn’t a question.
She crossed her arms, standing her ground even as uncertainty flickered behind her eyes. “No, I don’t.”
His lips quirked, just slightly, the same way they might at a particularly stupid joke. “That’s cute. Why not?”
Her jaw tightened. “Because girls exaggerate, and guys let them.”
Xavier hummed, slow, thoughtful, like he was indulging the idea even though it was beneath him. Then, without fanfare, he reached for his belt, slipping it free with smooth, practiced ease. He wasn’t putting on a show; there was no need. If anything, this was just another night, another hassle, another girl who had to see it to believe it.
“You’re actually just—”
“You made a deal,” he interrupted, tone flat. “So now, you get to find out.”
The soft rasp of his zipper cut through the silence, and he could already see the shift in her posture—the tension in her shoulders, the subtle hesitation in her stance. Her mouth might have been ready to call his bluff, but her body wasn’t as confident. He smirked. They never were.
His jeans loosened, the waistband dipping just enough for the weight of it to be obvious even before he pulled the fabric aside. He could see her eyes track it, widening slightly as her lips parted, her breath hitching. She hadn’t even seen the whole thing yet.
Not just a rumor.
Xavier sighed, more irritated than smug, rolling his shoulders like he was exhausted by the entire situation. “See, this is why I don’t bother.”
She swallowed, hard, but he could see the way she was still trying to cling to her disbelief. It was adorable. A last-ditch attempt to save face, like she hadn’t just been hit with the proof she was demanding. He leaned against the desk, watching her expectantly, letting her struggle with reality.
“Well?”
Her jaw clenched, her hands flexing at her sides, but she didn’t move away. No, she did the opposite—she stepped closer. Her arms dropped, fingers twitching before she reached out, hesitating just a fraction before she brushed her knuckles against him.
Xavier didn’t react. Didn’t flinch, didn’t so much as exhale sharply. If anything, he seemed almost bored, like this was just another obligation, another part of the exhausting ritual of getting laid. Her fingers traced along the thick ridge, pressing slightly, her throat working around a tight swallow as her mind caught up to what she was feeling.
“Oh, what’s the matter?” Xavier murmured, tilting his head slightly. “Not what you were expecting?”
She stiffened, eyes flashing up to meet his, and he nearly laughed. She was trying so hard to keep up the bravado, to pretend like she wasn’t standing there, completely thrown off, gripping something she probably thought was a physical impossibility. He let her have a few seconds to adjust, to process, before he reached out, tilting her chin up with two fingers.
“You don’t have to suck it,” he mused, his voice nothing but lazy amusement. “But you do have to get me hard.”
Her breath hitched, and he smirked, because she was already halfway there.
Xavier leaned back against the desk, watching her sink to her knees like it was inevitable, like she was just another girl coming to the same stupid conclusion as all the others. The carpet had to be rough against her skin, but that wasn’t his problem. She wanted to prove something? She wanted to find out? Then she could deal with the reality of what she was asking for.
Her fingers hesitated at his waistband, but he didn’t move to help. Just stared down at her, expectant, waiting, smirk barely visible beneath the shadow of his hood. She had all that confidence downstairs—so where was it now? With a slow exhale, he tilted his head, voice thick with amusement.
"Go ahead, then," he drawled. "Let’s see how long that attitude lasts."
She pulled down his boxers, and he felt the exact moment she realized she might’ve fucked up. Her whole body locked up, hands frozen, mouth slightly parted in silent, stunned disbelief. Xavier huffed a quiet laugh, reaching down to wrap his fingers around the thick base of his cock, giving himself a lazy stroke as he watched her struggle to process it.
"Problem?" he asked, mock sympathy lacing his tone.
Her tongue flicked out, wetting her lips, but she still hadn’t moved. He could see the gears turning in her head, the way her breathing hitched slightly as she stared at him, at the sheer weight of what she’d just committed to. His smirk deepened.
"You were talking all that shit downstairs," he continued, tapping the thick head of his cock against her parted lips, smearing pre-cum over the plush softness. "Now’s your chance to back it up."
She inhaled sharply, eyes flashing up to meet his, but he only stared back, cold, unimpressed. He gave her a second—just one—before bringing his cock down lightly against her tongue, the wet slap echoing between them. Her breath stuttered, body jerking slightly at the sting, and Xavier arched a brow.
"Keep it out if you’re gonna use it," he muttered, gaze dark, daring.
She sucked in a slow breath, and finally, finally, she leaned forward, pressing her tongue flat against the underside of his length. Xavier exhaled sharply through his nose, watching as she dragged her mouth down, tracing the thick vein running along the length of him before circling the flushed tip. A soft, wet sound filled the space between them as her lips finally sealed around him, and his fingers flexed in her hair, gripping lightly.
"There you go," he murmured, watching her with sharp, unyielding focus. "Bet you don’t feel so fucking clever now, do you?"
Her cheeks hollowed, sucking lightly, and he let out a slow, pleased exhale. She was taking her time, trying to ease into it, trying to adjust, but that wasn’t going to be enough. His grip tightened slightly, just enough to make sure she knew he wasn’t about to be patient.
"Less teasing," he warned, voice low, smooth. "Open up."
She hesitated for only a second before obeying, her lips stretching wider as she took him deeper, her throat fluttering as she fought to keep from gagging. Xavier groaned low, rolling his hips just slightly, enough to feel the heat of her mouth tighten around him. His fingers traced slow, lazy circles against the back of her head, his smirk widening as he watched her struggle, as he felt every little tremor in her muscles.
"You wanted to know," he reminded her, his voice a quiet taunt. "So take it."
Her hands gripped his thighs, nails digging into the fabric of his jeans as she tried to relax, to breathe through it, to keep up with the sheer size of him. Xavier just watched, breathing steady, unmoving, letting her do the work, letting her struggle with the reality of what she had asked for.
Then, abruptly, he pulled back, dragging his cock free from her mouth, a wet string of spit connecting them for a second before breaking. Her breath came quick and uneven, her lips slick, swollen, her eyes slightly glassy as she looked up at him. Xavier exhaled a slow breath, shaking his head, dragging a hand through his hair as he stared down at her.
"Yeah," he muttered, gaze sharp, unimpressed. "That’s about what I thought."
Before she could even think to respond, he grabbed her arms, hauling her up with ease, forcing her to meet his gaze. The air between them burned, thick with heat, with tension, with something dark curling low in his stomach as he took in the state of her—flushed, breathless, wrecked from just this.
"Come on," he murmured, backing her toward the bed with slow, deliberate steps. "You made a deal, sweetheart. You’re not getting out of it now."
Her knees buckled against the edge of the bed, and before she could fully process it, Xavier was there, pushing her down, his weight following, pressing her into the mattress. His hands weren’t gentle—gripping, dragging, taking, his fingers curling into the fabric of her skirt and yanking it up with no patience for teasing. The cool air hit her bare thighs, then the heat of his palms followed, rough against soft skin as he forced them apart without hesitation. He smirked, gaze dropping between them, taking in the damp spot darkening the lace of her panties before sliding his fingers beneath the waistband.
She gasped as he hooked his thumbs into the fabric, not bothering with slow, deliberate teasing—just peeling them down in one smooth motion, letting them catch for half a second on the curve of her thighs before he yanked them free. He tossed them aside, already settling between her legs, already spreading her wider, already pressing his palm flat against her, rubbing the heat of his hand over slick, sensitive flesh. His thumb dragged up, finding her clit easily, circling once—firm, unrelenting—before dipping lower, parting her with no hesitation. She twitched beneath him, her body betraying her as her hips jerked in response, and his smirk widened.
"You talk all that shit," he muttered, his fingers dragging slow through her wetness, deliberately messy, deliberately teasing, coating his skin in the proof of how ready she already was. He glanced up at her, pinning her with a lazy, knowing look before gripping her face in one hand, squeezing just enough to make her lips part. "But look at you now," he murmured, his thumb pressing just slightly against her lower lip, his other hand still between her thighs, two fingers ghosting over her entrance. "Dripping, shaking—maybe you should’ve thought twice before running that mouth."
Her breath hitched, something sharp and heated curling low in her stomach, but before she could fire back, he bit down on her bottom lip, a sharp sting followed by the slow, deliberate slide of his fingers pressing inside. She gasped against his mouth, her nails digging into his arms, but he didn’t stop, didn’t hesitate—just pushed deeper, spreading his fingers as he filled her, stretching her open with no patience for easing in. A strangled sound escaped her, something between a moan and a whimper, her thighs twitching against his sides as he worked his fingers deeper. "Yeah," Xavier muttered against her mouth, a quiet, almost amused groan slipping from him as he felt the way she clenched around him. "That’s what I thought."
He shifted lower, dragging his fingers free only to smear the wetness along the inside of her thigh, marking her before his mouth replaced them. The first press of his tongue against her clit was rough, firm, no slow build-up, no teasing—just immediate, unrelenting heat. She jolted, a sharp gasp breaking from her lips, but he held her down, hands braced against her thighs, keeping her open, keeping her exactly where he wanted her. He licked into her deep, his tongue pressing hard, slow, dragging from her entrance to her clit with filthy precision, then back again.
Her fingers flew into his hair, gripping, tugging, but it only made him groan, the vibration shooting through her like a live wire, making her legs tighten around his shoulders. He chuckled against her, pulling back just enough to bite at the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, just enough to make her jolt. "Relax," he murmured, voice thick, taunting. "We’re just getting started."
His fingers slid back into her, easier this time, deeper, stretching her as his tongue circled her clit, slow but firm, pushing her higher with each flick, each press, each calculated stroke. She whimpered, her back arching, the pleasure sharp, unbearable, but Xavier didn’t slow down. He wasn’t savoring her—he was wrecking her, tearing her apart piece by piece, showing her exactly what it meant to get herself into this situation. And when he finally lifted his gaze, meeting her wide, glassy-eyed stare from between her thighs, he smirked against her, lips wet, breath hot, voice nothing but dark amusement as he murmured—
"You’re not gonna tap out on me yet, are you?"
Her thighs clenched instinctively against the sides of his head, a sharp, involuntary reaction to the relentless pace of his tongue. But Xavier didn’t pull away. If anything, the pressure only seemed to encourage him, his grip on her tightening, fingers sinking into the soft flesh of her hips, holding her down, keeping her exactly where he wanted her. His mouth moved slow but deliberately, savoring every flick of his tongue, every soft, wet sound as he licked into her, then sucked at her clit with just enough pressure to send heat rolling up her spine.
"Jesus—" she gasped, her voice breaking, her fingers twitching before finding their way into his hair. The strands were soft beneath her fingertips, slightly damp where sweat had begun to gather, and she tugged—just a little, just enough to make him feel it. The deep, rough groan that vibrated against her sent a shudder through her body, her breath catching as his tongue dragged over her again. He wasn’t stopping. He wasn’t even slowing down. If anything, that reaction only spurred him on, his hands gripping her harder, keeping her pinned beneath him.
"Fuck, you like that, huh?" he muttered against her, his breath hot against her swollen, slick skin. His lips brushed her clit before his tongue slid over it again, slow, lazy, circling, teasing, pushing her higher and higher. "You taste so fucking good." His voice was thick, laced with something dark, something pleased, something hungry. She bit her lip hard, her head tipping back against the pillow, eyes squeezing shut.
He was good at this. Too good. Like he enjoyed it just as much as she did, like he had no intention of stopping until she was shaking, gasping, completely undone beneath him. And then—without warning—his fingers joined in. The first press of his index finger against her entrance sent a sharp jolt through her, her hips jerking slightly, instinctively, as her breath caught in her throat. He didn’t push in right away. He dragged it through her wetness first, teasing, testing, making her body crave it, making her legs tighten around his shoulders in frustration.
His tongue never lost rhythm, his movements perfectly in sync, each stroke of his tongue matching the slow, deep thrusts of his fingers. Her back arched, a breathless moan slipping past her lips as he found that spot inside her, the one that made her toes curl, made her head spin, made her body tighten with need.
"Fuck—Xavier—" she gasped, her voice breaking, her fingers twisting tighter in his hair. He groaned against her, deep and rough, the vibration shooting through her like a live wire. "You’re so fucking tight," he murmured, his voice thick, almost reverent, his fingers pressing deeper, stroking her exactly where she needed. His tongue flicked over her clit, sharp, precise, and her body trembled, pleasure coiling tight, winding higher, sharper, impossibly close to the edge.
And Xavier knew it. He could feel it in the way she clenched around him, the way her thighs quivered, the way her breath came in short, shaky gasps. He didn’t stop. He didn’t slow down. He just kept pushing her, kept working her open, relentless, focused, determined to drag her over the edge. And then, suddenly, it hit her.
Pleasure slammed into her, sharp and overwhelming, stealing the air from her lungs as she shattered, a choked moan spilling from her lips. Her whole body jerked, trembling, her walls clenching down around his fingers as her orgasm rolled through her in wave after wave of raw, pulsing heat. Xavier groaned, his mouth still moving against her, slow, lazy, like he was savoring every last tremor, drawing it out, making sure she felt everything. She barely registered the way her body sagged against the bed, boneless, her chest rising and falling in shaky, uneven breaths.
Xavier finally pulled back, his lips slick, his jaw tight, his eyes dark as he looked up at her. His expression was pure, unfiltered hunger, something deep and knowing flickering in his gaze as he dragged his fingers up the inside of her thigh, leaving a slow, wet trail in their wake. He leaned up, hovering over her now, his breath warm against her lips as he murmured, voice thick, rough, and filled with something undeniably possessive.
"Now, let’s see if you can take me."
Xavier’s breath came rough and uneven, thick with the weight of restraint as he finally pulled back, his lips slick from her, his jaw locked tight. A thin sheen of sweat glowed along the sharp angles of his face, his tongue flicking over his bottom lip like he was chasing the taste of her, unwilling to let it go just yet. His hands, large and steady, dragged slow paths down the length of her trembling thighs, fingers pressing deep into overheated skin, massaging, soothing.
She was wrecked. Flushed and trembling, her chest rising and falling in uneven waves, pupils wide and unfocused as she tried to catch her breath. The sight of her like this—ruined and open beneath him, her legs spread, her body still quivering from the wreckage of his mouth—made something primal twist, hot and unbearable, in the pit of his stomach. But he wasn’t going to rush this. He wasn’t going to let himself be swallowed whole by the raw, urgent need burning through his veins.
The wooden scrape of the nightstand drawer was quiet, almost lost beneath the sound of their breathing. Xavier reached inside without looking, fingers curling around a smooth, familiar bottle, cool against his heated palm. The cap snapped open with a soft click, the scent of something clean and faintly medicinal threading through the thick air between them. He could feel her watching him, could feel the weight of her gaze flickering between his hands and the still-throbbing length of him resting between his thighs. She was waiting, expectant, but not impatient.
Not hesitant, either.
Just… wondering.
Would it really fit?
Xavier squeezed a generous amount of lube onto his fingers, the thick liquid pooling cool against his skin. He shifted slightly, spreading her open with one hand, his grip firm but careful, his thumb brushing along the sensitive dip of her inner thigh. A slow, measured breath left him as he brought his coated fingers to her entrance, spreading the slickness against the heat of her, watching the way her body jolted at the first press.
She was sensitive. Too sensitive.
A soft, breathy gasp slipped past her lips as he eased one finger inside, testing, stretching. A shiver ran through her, her legs twitching on either side of him, the overstimulation making her body tense before it melted into something looser, something warmer. Then—another. His second finger joined the first, working deeper, slow and careful, pressing up against the places he already knew would make her squirm.
She sucked in a sharp breath.
That flicker of tension—brief, barely there—didn’t escape him.
Xavier hummed, low and knowing, his thumb tracing lazy, grounding circles over her hip. “Relax,” he murmured, voice rough, but gentle. “You’ll take it easier that way.”
Her throat bobbed as she swallowed, dark eyes flicking to his, something unreadable flashing behind them. She wasn’t scared. Not reluctant. But that same thought from earlier lingered unspoken in the air between them, sitting heavy on her tongue.
Had they even really tried?
Xavier let out a slow, even breath through his nose, his gaze never leaving her face as he worked his fingers deeper, stretching her, coaxing her body open inch by inch. He could feel it—the way she clenched, resisted, and then slowly, sweetly, gave in. His fingers curled, pressing against the spot that made her breath stutter, and her lips parted, a soft, needy sound slipping free.
“Good,” he murmured, watching her, drinking in every tiny shift in her expression, every involuntary tremble. “That’s it.”
He pulled his fingers away carefully, lingering just long enough to feel the way she clenched around nothing, already missing the pressure. He squeezed more lube onto his palm, rubbing it between his fingers before reaching for himself, slicking the thick length of his cock with slow, deliberate strokes. The gel glistened over every ridge, every vein, dripping down his fingers as he made sure—thoroughly—that there would be no friction.
Her teeth sunk into her bottom lip, her eyes flicking between his hand and the sheer size of him, and fuck—he saw it, the exact moment it hit her.
Xavier smirked, dark and slow.
Then, he moved.
One hand braced against the mattress beside her head, the other gripping the base of his cock as he lined himself up, the swollen tip pressing against her entrance, hot and slick. A full-body shudder ran through her, her legs tensing around his hips as she felt it—just the pressure, just the weight of him sitting there, not even inside yet.
“Look at me,” he murmured, voice low, steady.
Her eyes lifted to his, wide, still hazy from everything that had come before, but present—focused.
“Deep breath,” Xavier whispered.
She exhaled, slow and measured, and he took that moment to push forward.
Just the tip.
A sharp gasp tore from her throat, her fingers flying up to grip his shoulders, nails sinking in. Her whole body tensed, locking up for half a second before she forced herself to relax, her thighs trembling against him. Xavier groaned, deep and rough, his fingers flexing against the sheets.
“Fuck,” he muttered, his jaw clenching. “You feel insane.”
The heat of her—tight, slick, already gripping him so fucking perfectly—was unbearable. And he was barely inside.
He eased forward another inch, watching the way her brows drew together, the way her lips parted, her breath coming in shaky little bursts. Every movement, every shift, sent another pulse of pressure through her, another slow, deliberate stretch that made her body tense before relaxing again.
She was taking him.
Barely.
But she was.
Her fingers curled against his biceps, gripping, bracing. Her breath hitched as she swallowed hard, voice unsteady when she gasped, “Are you—?”
Xavier let out a weak, breathless laugh, shaking his head. His body was taut with restraint, every muscle locked tight as he fought to hold himself back. One hand slid up her waist, tracing the curve of her ribs before cupping the back of her neck, his fingers threading into her hair.
He pulled her forward just enough. Just enough for her to see.
“Look,” he murmured, rough, low.
Her gaze dropped between them, and—oh.
Her stomach clenched, breath catching, pulse hammering in her ears.
Because he had barely—barely—gotten the tip inside.
And yet, she felt impossibly full. Stretched to the brink. Completely stuffed with just that first inch.
Her throat tightened.
Xavier exhaled against her lips, his voice nothing but heat and wicked amusement when he whispered—
“We’ve got at least eight more inches to go, baby.”
Then, before she could process, before she could even think to respond—
He pushed forward another inch. Her whole body reacted, thighs tensing, fingers tightening where they gripped his arms. A soft, helpless whimper slipped out, her walls clenching around him as he filled her just that much more.
Xavier groaned, deep and guttural, his breath hot against her ear.
"Fuck, you're so tight," he muttered, his hand squeezing the back of her neck, grounding her, soothing her. "Relax for me. Let me in."
He rocked his hips, easing that inch in and out, letting her adjust, making sure she could take it before pushing any deeper.
The stretch was unrelenting, an ache that teetered between overwhelming and intoxicating. She felt herself throbbing around him, her body instinctively clenching, trying to accommodate something it had never taken before. Every shallow thrust, every inch he gave her, made her whimper, her body struggling to decide if it was too much or if she wanted more.
Xavier could feel it. Could feel the way her body fought and then surrendered, over and over again.
He groaned, resting his forehead against hers. "That's it," he murmured, coaxing, praising. "You're taking me so well."
He pushed again, another inch.
Her breath hitched, her nails digging into his skin, and she gasped, "Xavier—"
"I know," he murmured, his voice tight, strained with his own restraint. His lips ghosted over her jaw, his fingers gripping her thigh. "You're doing so fucking good."
The stretch was unbearable. The fullness, impossible. Every inch he gave her felt like too much, and yet—somehow—she took it. Slowly. Carefully. His thick cock pried her open in aching increments, Xavier rocking it in, then out, then deeper, always waiting for her body to accept it before giving her more.
Her nails clawed at his shoulders, her breath coming in short, desperate gasps as she tried to process the sensation—the raw, unrelenting stretch of him inside her, filling her past what she thought she could take. He moved with agonizing patience, inching deeper, letting her feel every ridge, every vein, every impossible bit of him forcing her walls to accommodate. It was too much. It wasn’t enough. It was both at once, and the contradiction made her dizzy, made her toes curl against the sheets, made her moans break apart into helpless little sounds.
Xavier groaned, his forehead pressing against hers, his fingers tightening where they gripped her thigh. He was barely keeping himself together. Every clench, every squeeze of her body around him was a vice, threatening to pull him under, to shatter the last thread of restraint he had left. Sweat slicked his chest, dampening the space between them, and his jaw ached from how tightly he was holding himself back.
And still—he waited.
Waited for her to open. Waited for her to take him.
Ten minutes. Ten agonizing, torturous minutes of slow, relentless stretching, of her gasping, moaning, whimpering beneath him. Of his fingers gripping her thigh, his lips brushing against her ear, murmuring soft, broken praises as she took him—inch by inch, impossible inch.
Then—
Something gave.
Something deep inside her—some final resistance—just melted.
And suddenly, with a sharp, slick slide, he was in.
All the way.
Her body locked up. A strangled, wrecked moan tore from her throat, her back arching, her fingers digging into his back like she didn’t know whether to pull him closer or push him away. The shock of it crashed into her all at once—the stretch, the pressure, the unbearable fullness. She had never felt anything like this, had never been this completely stuffed, this devastatingly wrecked, and for a split second, it was too much.
Her legs flexed, thighs tensing where they wrapped around his hips, and then—before she could even think about it—she was moving, her body instinctively trying to shift away, to escape the overwhelming sensation.
Xavier caught it immediately.
The second she started to squirm, his hands shot to her waist, firm and unyielding, locking her in place. He chuckled, low and rough, the sound pure amusement laced with heat, with possession. His fingers dug into her hips, anchoring her, keeping her from inching even a fraction away from him.
“Come back here,” he murmured, his voice thick with smug satisfaction. He pushed forward, pressing her deeper into the mattress, making sure she felt every inch still pulsing inside her. “Don’t run now, not after you talked so much shit.”
A jagged breath tore from her lungs, sharp and shuddering, her body caught in the razor-thin space between resistance and surrender. Her eyes flew open, locking onto his, only to find him already watching her—amused, enthralled, a dark, knowing smirk stretching across his lips. He was enjoying this. Every little tremble, every fluttering pulse of her body struggling to adjust, to take him, to accept every impossible inch.
Xavier's thumb traced up the curve of her thigh, slow and taunting, dragging goosebumps in his wake. Then, without warning, his hips shifted—just enough, just barely a motion at all, but the deep, grinding press of him inside her sent a bolt of sensation shooting through her spine. She jolted violently, her nails clawing into the solid heat of his arms, desperate for something to ground her as a strangled moan spilled from her lips.
“Xavier—” Her voice broke, half a plea, half a warning.
“That’s my name, baby,” he murmured, his lips brushing the line of her jaw, warm, teasing, and entirely unrepentant. His voice dripped with pure sin, thick with a satisfaction that made her stomach twist, made heat coil tighter and tighter in her core. “Say it again.”
Her breath hitched, her head falling back against the pillows as he rolled his hips, the movement devastating in its precision—deep, deliberate, meant to be felt in every nerve, every muscle, every inch of her body stretched tight around him. He was in no rush, no frantic pace, no reckless abandon. Just control. Just that slow, unbearable rhythm that sent wave after wave of electricity crackling beneath her skin.
"You can take it." The confidence in his voice was absolute, unwavering. His grip on her waist tightened, fingers digging into her flesh as he pulled her back onto him, as if to prove a point. His eyes burned into hers, filled with challenge, with hunger, with the unshakable certainty that he knew her limits better than she did. "You wanted to prove it, right?" His hips rolled, forcing her to feel every inch of him, thick and unrelenting. "So take it."
Her thighs quivered. Her breath shuddered. And for a fleeting moment, she thought she might fall apart completely. But she didn’t. Instead, she exhaled—long, slow, steady—forcing herself to relax, to let go, to stop fighting the sensation that was already swallowing her whole.
Xavier felt it the second she surrendered.
“There you go,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over the shell of her ear, his breath warm and wicked against her skin. “Knew you could.”
And then—he kissed her.
Not soft. Not sweet. Messy, desperate, his mouth crashing against hers in a raw collision of heat and hunger. His tongue slid against hers, tasting, claiming, his kiss a reflection of everything happening between them—deep, consuming, and completely fucking reckless. He knew. He fucking knew. This was trouble. This was bad because now that he had her—now that he’d felt this—there was no way in hell he was ever going to get enough.
Xavier’s breath came heavy, ragged, his forehead nearly pressed against hers as he pulled back just an inch—just enough to feel the way her walls clenched around him, hot, wet, gripping him with every shuddering breath she took. His cock throbbed, thick and unyielding, seated so impossibly deep inside her that the air in his lungs turned to fire.
Then—he pushed forward.
Slow. Deliberate. Devastating.
Her moan vibrated against his lips, swallowed by his mouth, her body trembling beneath him as he filled her completely, stretching her, overwhelming her with the sheer intensity of it. The first thrust was careful, controlled. So was the second.
By the third, his control snapped.
Xavier’s fingers curled into the sheets beside her head, his muscles taut, coiled tight as he pulled back further this time—almost halfway—before slamming back in, driving into her with a thick, deep thrust that ripped a gasp from her throat. Her legs wrapped around him, instinctive, clinging, pulling him closer even as her body struggled to adjust to the relentless fullness of him.
“Fuck—” she whimpered, her nails raking down his back, dragging fire in their wake.
Xavier groaned, low and rough, feeling every squeeze, every flutter, every helpless little tremor of pleasure wracking through her as he moved. He tried to keep it slow. He tried to let her adjust. But with every slick, wet slide of his cock through the unbearable heat of her, his control crumbled, piece by piece, until nothing was left but raw, reckless need.
Her moans grew louder. His breathing came heavier.
And the sounds—the obscene, slick noises of him pounding into her, the creak of the bed, the breathless, gasping way she took every inch—
It was too much.
He needed more.
Xavier pulled back nearly all the way this time before slamming into her hard enough to knock a cry from her lips. His body shuddered, his forehead pressing against hers, his breath hot and jagged as he groaned through clenched teeth.
“Shit,” he panted, his fingers digging into her thighs, spreading her open, holding her still as he rocked into her again—slower, but harder, each thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure tearing through both of them.
He was losing it.
And he didn’t fucking care.
With a growl of frustration, he grabbed her legs, shoving them up, pressing her knees toward her chest.
Her breath hitched. “Fuck—”
Fully open. Fully at his mercy.
And that was it.
That was fucking it.
Xavier snapped, his hips slamming forward, his rhythm dissolving into something rough, relentless, filthy, each thrust wringing broken, gasping moans from her lips. He was buried so deep now, stretching her so wide, dragging her further and further into something she couldn’t even name.
There was no pain—only pleasure.
Pure, unfiltered sensation.
The unbearable stretch of him filling her, hitting deeper than before, grinding against something inside her that sent her spinning, her body tightening around him in ways that made his vision blur.
Her mouth hung open, slack, wordless.
Her eyes, wide and hazy, completely fucked out.
He braced himself above her, his fingers digging into her thighs, his muscles flexing as he pounded into her, unable to stop, unable to slow down, unable to do anything but chase the unbearable pleasure consuming them both.
“Look at you,” he panted, watching the way she came apart beneath him, his breath hot, his voice thick with something dark, something reverent. His grip tightened, his pace turning brutal. “Taking all of me—fuck, you feel so fucking good—”
Her moans were getting louder, her nails scratching at his forearms, her body trembling as the pleasure built higher, sharper, winding so tight she could barely breathe.
Xavier’s fingers slid between them, rough and desperate, searching until they found her clit. The moment he pressed down, rubbing slow, firm circles against the swollen bud, her body reacted on instinct—a sharp, uncontrolled jerk, a gasp punched straight from her lungs. The pleasure was unbearable, a white-hot current snapping through her nerves, setting every inch of her aflame. He felt her shudder, felt the tension winding so tight inside her it was moments from snapping, and fuck, he needed to push her over that edge.
"Yeah—" he groaned, his voice raw, thick with something dark and demanding. His thumb moved faster, pressing, circling, stroking her with precision, with purpose, his cock still buried deep inside her, stretching her, wrecking her from the inside out. Every thrust sent another wave of sensation rippling through her, dragging her closer and closer to the brink. "Cum on it," Xavier growled, his breath hot against her lips, his forehead pressing against hers as he pinned her beneath him. "Fucking do it."
Her walls fluttered around him, squeezing, gripping, so impossibly tight he nearly lost himself right then and there. He could feel it, the way her body was fighting it, clenching around him like it didn’t want to let go, like she was teetering on the edge but not quite ready to fall. His own release was rising fast, a relentless, searing pressure building low in his stomach, threatening to rip through him at any second. "Come on, baby," he ground out, his jaw tight, his rhythm turning erratic as he chased it, as he chased her. "Let me feel you—let me fucking—"
She shattered.
A broken, wrecked cry tore from her throat, her entire body locking up, then trembling violently as pleasure slammed into her. Her pussy clamped down on him, an unforgiving vice, pulsing, milking, dragging him into the fire right alongside her. Xavier barely had time to process it before he was gone too, before his control snapped like a wire pulled too tight, breaking under the unbearable heat of her.
"Fuck—" he choked, his breath ragged, his hips snapping forward once, twice—
And then he was lost.
His orgasm hit like a wrecking ball, slamming into him so hard it left his vision swimming, his limbs locking up as pure, white-hot pleasure exploded through his body. His spine arched, every muscle seizing as he groaned, his voice breaking, wrecked, his body acting on pure, desperate instinct—thrusting deep, burying himself inside her as he spilled into her, thick and hot and endless. It didn’t stop. It just kept coming. His cock throbbed inside her, jerking with every pulse, every wave of release that crashed through him, dragging him down, deeper and deeper, drowning him in it.
Xavier could feel everything—the way she clenched around him, fluttering, milking, the way her body trembled beneath him, still wracked with aftershocks that refused to fade. It was unbearable, the way she held onto him, like she never wanted to let go, like she was pulling him deeper, taking everything he had to give. His breath was uneven, his skin damp with sweat, his pulse hammering so hard he swore he could hear it echoing in his ears.
He had never cum like this before. Never. And now—now he wasn’t sure he’d ever recover.
His breath hitched as another wave of pleasure surged through him, raw and unrelenting. His cock twitched inside her, overstimulated, still buried deep, still leaking, his release dripping between them, making everything slick and messy where they were joined. His entire body shook with it, muscles locking, heat crawling up his spine like a live wire sparking out of control.
"Fuck—fuck—" His voice cracked on the words, his forehead pressing against the damp skin of her throat as he fought to steady himself. But he couldn’t. His hips ground forward instinctively, chasing every last ounce of sensation, dragging out the unbearable pleasure that bordered on pain, on something too much, too intense, too overwhelming.
His fingers flexed against her thighs, gripping hard enough to leave imprints, as if anchoring himself to her was the only way to keep from unraveling completely.
"Jesus Christ," he gasped, breathless, ruined, his chest rising and falling in uneven, desperate pulls of air.
Beneath him, she was still trembling, her own climax still shuddering through her, waves of pleasure rolling over her body like an aftershock that refused to fade. Her walls pulsed around him in time with her ragged breaths, tightening with every involuntary twitch, and fuck—
He could barely breathe.
Could barely think.
All he knew was her.
The heat of her, the way she wrapped around him so perfectly, the way her skin burned against his, slick with sweat, with desire, with everything that had just happened between them.
His lips found the side of her neck, brushing against the damp skin, leaving the softest, most absentminded of kisses in his haze. His pulse thundered in his ears, drowning out everything but the sound of their breathing, the faint creak of the bed beneath them, the lingering wet, sinful sounds of their bodies still connected. He had never—never—felt like this before and now? Now, he knew he was fucked because there was no way this would be enough.
No way he’d ever stop wanting this, wanting her, wanting the way she melted beneath him, the way she took every inch, the way she moaned his name in a voice so wrecked it made his stomach tighten all over again. No, this wasn’t just a one-time thing. He was never going to get enough of her.
Xavier didn’t move.
Didn’t even try.
His body was heavy, muscles boneless, limbs tangled with hers in a mess of overheated skin and slow, exhausted breathing. He should’ve shifted, should’ve rolled off her, but fuck—he couldn’t. He was drained, wrecked, every last ounce of strength pulled from his body and poured into hers until there was nothing left to give.
So he just lay there, pressed against her, his weight solid and unyielding, pinning her to the mattress like an anchor keeping her from floating away.
She didn’t complain.
Didn’t tell him to move, didn’t push at his shoulders or squirm beneath him. If anything, she just let out a long, slow exhale, her body softening beneath him, one leg still hitched lazily around his waist, keeping him there. Her fingers, light and absentminded, found their way into his hair, slipping through the sweat-damp strands with a slow, idle rhythm.
The sensation sent a pleasant shiver down his spine, a warmth curling deep in his chest that had nothing to do with sex and everything to do with the way she was touching him—soft, gentle, like she wasn’t in any rush to move either.
His breath came slow, measured, his cheek resting against the curve of her shoulder, his lips just barely brushing her skin as he murmured, voice hoarse, “If I die here, just leave me.”
A quiet huff of laughter vibrated through her chest. “Not even gonna try to move?”
“Nope.” He shifted just enough to nuzzle against her neck, the barest hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “You’re stuck with me now.”
She snorted, her nails scratching lightly against his scalp, slow and deliberate. “I think I already was.”
Xavier hummed in agreement, his eyes slipping shut as he let himself sink into the sensation. The weight of her beneath him, the warmth of her fingers in his hair, the slow, steady rise and fall of their breathing syncing up—it was grounding, steadying, something he didn’t even realize he needed until this moment.
A long pause stretched between them, comfortable, easy.
“Damn,” she muttered, tilting her head back against the pillows. “Now I see why no one else could take it.”
His body shook with a rough, breathless laugh, his chest vibrating against hers. “Told you.”
She smirked, her fingers tightening slightly in his hair, giving it a light tug that made his breath hitch. “Yeah, yeah. I get it now. I was talking a lot of shit, huh?”
“Mm.” He cracked an eye open, glancing up at her through heavy lids, his smirk lazy, teasing. “So much shit.”
She rolled her eyes, but there was no real bite to it. Just something warm, something fond, something that made his chest ache in a way he wasn’t ready to unpack. Another silence. Another slow, shared breath.
Then, quieter, more thoughtful—“You’re really not gonna move, are you?”
Xavier sighed dramatically, burrowing his face into the crook of her neck. “Nope.”
She let out a soft, exasperated laugh, shaking her head as her fingers resumed their slow, lazy strokes through his hair.
“Fine,” she murmured, voice softer now, something drowsy threading through it. “But if my legs stop working after this, it’s your fault.”
He smirked against her skin, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to her shoulder before murmuring, “Worth it.” they lay there—breathless, tangled, unwilling to let go.
—
The library was quiet, save for the soft rustling of pages and the distant, rhythmic tapping of someone’s fingers against a keyboard. The air smelled like old books and printer ink, that distinct, slightly musty scent of academia. She had been sitting there for at least an hour, legs crossed beneath the table, a stack of textbooks spread out in front of her, diligently ignoring the persistent ache between her thighs.
She was sore. Very sore, every slight shift reminded her. Every time she pressed her knees together or shifted in her seat, her body sent little pulses of overstimulation through her core, as if echoing— you took all of him . Just as she was absently twirling her pen between her fingers, skimming the same paragraph for the third time, something warm, something firm, something familiar brushed against the side of her neck.
Soft lips. A kiss.
She gasped, a sharp, startled little squeak escaping before she could stop it, the pen slipping from her fingers as she whipped her head around—
Only for Xavier to catch her mouth with his, swallowing the sound before it could fully leave her lips.
His kiss was lazy, unhurried, like he had all the time in the world to take her apart right there between the stacks of books and worn-out wooden desks. His tongue brushed against hers in a slow, deliberate tease, tasting like coffee and something sweet, and damn him—he knew exactly what he was doing.
She made a muffled noise of protest, hands shoving lightly at his chest, but he didn’t budge. His lips curled against hers in amusement before he finally, finally pulled back just enough to smirk down at her, blue eyes glinting with mischief.
"You scared me," she huffed, pressing a hand against her chest as if to steady her heartbeat.
His smirk widened. "You liked it."
She rolled her eyes. "I jumped ."
"Yeah, right into my mouth," Xavier murmured, his voice low, teasing, the rough edge of it sending a shiver down her spine.
She glared, but it had no real heat. "What are you even doing here?"
Xavier plopped into the seat beside her, his long legs spreading wide, taking up more space than necessary. His hoodie was slightly rumpled like he had just rolled out of bed—probably had, knowing him. His fingers found the edge of her notebook, spinning it idly before he tilted his head and drawled, "I was thinking about you."
Her stomach did something ridiculous.
She folded her arms. "Uh-huh."
His gaze flicked over her, sharp and assessing, before he leaned in closer, his breath warm against her cheek. "And how are you feeling today?" His voice dipped, smooth and knowing, the kind of knowing that sent heat rushing straight to her face.
Her eyes narrowed. "I hate you."
His grin was immediate. "That sore, huh?"
Her face burned hotter. "Shut up —"
Xavier leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms above his head, the fabric of his hoodie riding up just enough to flash a sliver of his toned stomach. He was relaxed, unbothered, the perfect picture of someone who had not spent the past twenty-four hours dealing with the consequences of a very enthusiastic night.
His smirk deepened as he dropped his arms and leaned in again, his voice a low murmur just for her. "I could help with that, you know."
Her thighs pressed together instinctively. "Absolutely not."
"Why not?" He looked downright smug now, his fingers tracing the edge of her open textbook, barely even pretending to be interested in its contents. "We could go find an empty study room. Lock the door. Help you stretch out those sore muscles—"
"Xavier." Her voice was sharp, warning.
His grin didn’t falter. "What?"
"You’re ridiculous."
"And you ," he countered smoothly, his fingers brushing over the back of her hand now, slow and deliberate, " love it ."
She hated that he wasn’t wrong, though she also hated the way her body reacted—how the heat pooled low in her stomach, how her breath caught just slightly when his fingers traced higher, slipping over her wrist, his thumb pressing lightly against the quick, fluttering beat of her pulse.
"You’re impossible," she muttered.
Xavier’s smirk turned wolfish. "And yet, here I am."
She sighed dramatically, glancing around the library, half-expecting someone to be glaring at them for the blatant flirting. But no one seemed to care—either that or Xavier had chosen his moment well, the tables around them mostly empty.
She turned back to him, fixing him with an unimpressed look. " Some of us are actually here to study."
His fingers ghosted higher, toying with the hem of her sleeve. "Uh-huh. And some of us," he murmured, leaning in just a fraction closer, his lips brushing the shell of her ear, "are still thinking about the way you moaned my name last night."
Her stomach dropped and breath hitched. Her fingers clenched into the fabric of her sweater, and she swore she felt her pulse throb between her legs, an unwelcome reminder that yes, she was still sore, and yes, that soreness was entirely his fault.
Xavier noticed. Of course, he did. His gaze flickered down to where her thighs had squeezed together, and his smirk turned positively sinful.
"You’re evil," she whispered, barely able to get the words out.
He only chuckled, sitting back in his chair as if he hadn’t just wrecked her entire focus in under five minutes. His fingers traced a mindless pattern over her wrist before he finally released her and shrugged.
"You love it."
The quiet study room was dim, the flickering fluorescent light overhead humming faintly, casting uneven shadows against the walls. It smelled faintly of old textbooks and printer paper, but none of that mattered—not when Xavier had her perched on the edge of the vacant desk, her legs spread just enough for him to kneel between them, his broad shoulders wedged comfortably between her thighs.
His mouth was already on her.
Hot. Wet. Worshipful.
His lips brushed over her clit, his tongue flicking against the sensitive bud with slow, deliberate care, like he was savoring her, memorizing every reaction. A groan vibrated against her, deep and low, making her shudder.
"Fuck," Xavier murmured against her, his breath hot, his voice thick with something almost reverent. "Still so fucking sensitive, huh?"
She whimpered, fingers threading into his dark hair, gripping, but not pulling away.
His hands tightened around her thighs, fingers digging in just enough to steady her, to hold her open, to keep her from closing her legs around his head no matter how much the pleasure made her want to. He kissed her clit again, softer this time, gentler, his tongue teasing slow, lazy circles around it before flicking over it again.
Her breath hitched.
It was too much—not in a bad way, but in a way that had her squirming, heat curling in her belly, her body still sore from the last time he had touched her. He could feel the slight tremble in her thighs, the lingering overstimulation making her muscles tighten every time he licked at her just right.
His fingers traced higher, slipping between her folds, stroking through the slickness he had coaxed from her with his mouth.
"You’re still so tender," he murmured, almost to himself, his voice lined with something warm, something possessive .
She was swollen, still stretched from taking him the night before, and fuck—he couldn’t help it, couldn’t stop the flicker of pride that ignited in his chest at the sight of her, the evidence of what they had done still written into the softness of her body.
He dipped a single finger inside her, slow and careful, groaning softly at the way she clenched around him immediately.
She let out a breathy moan, her head tipping back against the desk. "Xavier—"
"I got you," he soothed, pressing a kiss to her inner thigh. "Just relax for me, baby."
His other hand rubbed gentle, soothing circles against her hip, grounding her, letting her adjust as he worked his finger deeper, slow and careful, feeling the heat, the tightness, the way she stretched so easily for him despite the soreness.
He curled his finger slightly, stroking that soft, spongy spot inside her, and she gasped, hips jerking.
"There it is," he murmured, smirking against her thigh, his thumb circling her clit again, gentle but insistent.
A shudder wracked through her, her breath coming in short, hitched gasps. Her fingers clenched in his hair, but Xavier didn’t stop—he eased another finger inside, stretching her, fucking her slow, deliberate, making sure she could take it, making sure she was ready.
Her thighs trembled.
She was so fucking wet.
"That’s it," he praised, his voice rough, thick with arousal. "You’re doing so good for me."
He worked her open with slow, careful thrusts of his fingers, his tongue still teasing her clit, slow and precise, not rushing, just feeling . Letting her adjust. Letting her get to the point where she wasn’t just wet—she was dripping , slick coating his fingers, making obscene, wet noises every time he curled them inside her.
And fuck—he needed more.
His cock was already hard, aching, straining against his jeans, the restraint nearly painful.
When he finally decided she was ready, he pulled his fingers away, a last slow stroke dragging through her wetness before he was standing, unbuttoning his jeans, his breath coming heavier, his jaw clenched tight.
His cock was thick, heavy in his hand as he stroked himself once, twice, smearing the slick wetness from the tip down his length before gripping her thighs, pulling her closer.
"Let me know if it’s too much," he whispered, voice softer now, rough but careful, as he positioned himself against her, the swollen head of his cock pressing against her entrance.
She nodded, her breath coming fast, her lips parted, her body already arching toward him despite the lingering soreness.
Xavier exhaled, steadying himself, pressing one last kiss against her knee before slowly, carefully pushing inside.
She was still so fucking tight, sliding inside her was easier this time. Still tight. Still warm. Still so fucking wet it made his head spin but there was no resistance, no slow stretch like before. Her body took him smoothly, greedily, wrapping around him in a way that felt like she was made for this—for him.
Xavier groaned low in his throat, his grip tightening on her hips as he bottomed out, buried to the hilt, feeling every slick, pulsing inch of her clench around him. His forehead pressed against hers, his breath uneven, ragged.
“Fuck,” he murmured, voice thick, wrecked, his fingers flexing against her skin. “Feels so good, baby.”
She whimpered softly, her hands sliding up his arms, nails dragging lightly over his biceps before gripping his shoulders. Her legs wrapped around him, pulling him deeper, as if she wasn’t already taking every inch.
Xavier didn’t move yet. He let her feel it. Let her adjust. His hands roamed up her body, fingers tracing the soft curve of her waist before gliding higher, thumbs brushing over the swell of her breasts through her shirt.
He didn’t even hesitate—he tugged the fabric up, pushing it above her chest, exposing her completely.
His cock twitched inside her at the sight, his breath catching.
“Fucking perfect,” he murmured, his thumbs skimming over her nipples, watching as they pebbled under his touch. She made a soft, needy sound, her back arching slightly.
Xavier smirked, rolling one nipple between his fingers, pinching lightly, testing. So he did it again, rolling and tugging just a little harder this time, watching as her lips parted, as her walls fluttered around him.
“You like that?” he murmured against her lips, his voice a warm rasp.
She nodded breathlessly. Xavier’s mouth curved before he dipped his head, catching her lips in a slow, deep kiss. His fingers tugged at her nipples again, just enough to make her gasp into his mouth, her body tightening around him in response. The sensation sent a sharp pulse of pleasure through him, made his grip on her tighten, made his restraint crack just a little.
He couldn’t wait anymore. He needed to move.
So he did. His hips pulled back, just enough to feel the delicious drag of her walls clenching around him, and then he thrust forward again, sinking back into her warmth with a steady, measured pace.
She moaned softly against his lips, her hands gripping his shoulders as he found a rhythm, rolling his hips with a slow, deliberate precision, fucking her with deep, steady strokes that left no space between them.
His mouth never left hers, kissed her through every thrust, swallowing every little gasp, every moan, every breathless sound she made. His tongue brushed against hers, his teeth catching her bottom lip, tugging lightly before sucking it into his mouth. Thighs clenched around his waist, her body melting beneath him, pliant, eager, desperate for more. Xavier growled low in his throat, breaking the kiss just long enough to murmur against her lips, voice rough. “Hold on to me, baby.”
The way his hips moved— relentless , deep, precise—she couldn’t even think. Couldn’t breathe. Every thrust sent shockwaves through her, striking something inside her so devastatingly perfect it left her vision blurry , her body unraveling with every roll of his hips. She wasn’t in pain. No, far from it.
This was something else. Something beyond pleasure, beyond any sensation she had ever known before. It built too fast, too strong, tightening low in her belly, curling hot and desperate until it snapped without warning. Her release crashed into her, stealing the air from her lungs, her body locking up as a strangled moan ripped from her throat. She clenched around him, hard , her walls squeezing in waves that had her nails digging into his back, her legs tightening around his waist.
Xavier choked on a curse, his rhythm faltering for half a second before his body seized, his hands gripping her hips hard enough to leave bruises as his own release hit him just as fast. He buried himself deep, groaning against her lips, his whole body shuddering as he spilled into her, heat flooding her as he twitched inside her, as his hips gave one last slow, stuttering grind before he slumped against her, wrecked .
Their breathing was ragged, uneven, the room spinning around them. Xavier’s forehead pressed against hers, his breath hot and unsteady as he let out a rough, breathless laugh.
“Jesus fuck ,” he panted, pressing a lazy kiss to her jaw, his lips curling into a smirk. “You just came all over my dick, baby.”
She groaned, tilting her head back against the desk. “Shut up.”
His teeth grazed her throat as he chuckled. “Make me.”
She tried to glare at him, but her body was still pulsing with aftershocks, her brain still foggy from how completely he had just wrecked her.
Xavier kissed her again, slower this time, softer. His hands smoothed over her thighs, rubbing gentle, lazy circles, soothing the tremors that still lingered in her muscles. When he finally pulled back just enough to look at her, his eyes were darker, something warm and smug flickering beneath the surface.
“Think I just found your new favorite study break.”
The weight of him was still pressed against her, their bodies tangled, breaths uneven, the air between them thick with something neither of them had the words for yet. Xavier’s fingers traced along her cheek, slow, almost hesitant, the roughness of his calloused fingertips a stark contrast to the softness of her skin. His thumb brushed over her lips, lingering there for a second before he leaned in, pressing the gentlest kiss to her mouth.
It was different this time. Not hungry, not desperate—just soft.
Almost unsure . When he pulled back, his eyes searched hers, something raw flickering behind the lazy confidence he usually carried.
“You’re mine, right?” His voice was quiet, lower than usual, like he wasn’t entirely sure if he wanted to hear the answer.
She blinked at him, caught off guard by the question, by the sudden vulnerability in his tone.
“Who else’s would I be?” she asked, brows furrowing slightly, genuinely confused, just like that, Xavier exhaled, tension melting from his shoulders, something deep inside him settling .
His lips twitched, his smirk returning, softer this time, more real. “Yeah,” he murmured, brushing his nose against hers. “That’s what I thought.” as if for a moment he hadn’t had the flicker of uncertainty flood through him. Then he kissed her again, slow and deep, this time with confidence, with certainty—like he was claiming her.