The TA.

One-on-One

His apartment is dark and quiet when we step into it. He leaves the light in the hallway off and leads me right into his bedroom, where we stand a couple of feet apart, doing our best not to acknowledge the tension in the air.
His bed is a neat queen size with a sleek black metal frame, made up in slate grey sheets.
He has a whiteboard on one wall, with piano stickers along its top edge and notes scribbled beneath the keys. 
I walk over to it, put my fingers underneath the marker.
"This is a melody for a song, right?" 
I hear him stepping closer, look over my shoulder for a moment to gauge his mood from his facial expression. There's a slight smile on his lips.
"Yeah. I was tinkering around the other night." 
"Are there lyrics to go with it?"
I feel one of his hands slide around my waist. He spreads his palm over my stomach and pulls me back against his body. His nose skims across my neck and pushes gently against my ear.
"You got that magic, baby," he whispers.
And then he takes my earlobe between his teeth. 
I roll my neck and press myself back against him. 
I guess the waiting is over. 
His hand slides a little lower and his fingertips skim over the buckle of my belt. I stand, with weak knees, gasping as he unbuckles my belt and teases it through my belt loops. It thuds gently to the floor. 
His other hand comes up to my chin. He curls his knuckles up under my jaw and skims his thumb back and forth along it.
And these small touches shouldn't be so arousing. They shouldn't have me quivering and breathless. They shouldn't have my clit beating. They shouldn't have me dripping wet and aching all through my cunt. 
I stretch an arm back and run my fingers through his curls. 
His hand leaves my side. His thumb teases up my neck before he eases my head to the side and gathers my hair in his hand. 
I feel his breath rush across my skin.
He says, "Your neck is so elegant. You should show it off more." 
I bite back the smartass response that drifts through my head: I can't do that if you're going to mark me black and blue.
It seems like an eternity before his mouth reaches the collar of my shirt and his noses teases inside the flannel. 
He lets go of my hair, so he can cup my elbows in his hands and tug down the folded-back sleeves of my flannel shirt.
He hums and the sound is gravelly. 
My heart and clit throb in response.
I wiggle my knees and press my thighs together. 
"Are you always this quiet?" He murmurs, his lips brushing across my skin.
I drop my head forward and take a few ragged breaths.
"No," I gasp. "But I'm not normally this turned on." 
"Is that right?" 
"You haven't even kissed me tonight," I sigh.
"Oh, haven't I?"
He nips at my skin again, sucks hard, until the bitter edge kicks in and that edge of pain urges a whine out of me.
I drag my hand across his head, put my palm to his cheek and rub it across his stubble.
I let out a needy, breathy, high-pitched moan. 
"Turn around," he whispers into my ear.
I let go of him and turn slowly, struggling to meet his eyes. I wet my lips as I slide my forearms over his shoulders and skim my fingertips over the back of his neck.
He puts a thumb to my chin once more and holds me still as he leans in. I part my lips against his and find his tongue already nudging eagerly against mine. I drag my nails across his skin and rise on my toes to press myself against him. 
When he pulls away, he lets out a long breath and meets my eyes. 
"The things I want to do with you," he mutters. "I hardly know where to start."
I clear my throat and manage to remind him, "You promised me oral-to-drive-me-wild."
He sucks in his lips, just for a moment.
"I did."
"So..."
He smiles and says, "Let's get you out of these clothes."
He leads me over to the bed and stands above me as I unzip my boots and toss them aside. I lean back, blushing, and close my hands around the buttons of my shirt.
"What do you have on under that?"
"A bralet."
"Leave it on," he says, his voice strict.
I nod and unbutton slowly, hoping he enjoys the view as it's revealed inch by inch. I sit up to throw my shirt aside and lean back on my palms.
He toes off his shoes and socks, unbuckles his belt and leaves it attached to his jeans as he unbuttons and unzips. He pulls his t-shirt off by its collar and drops it on top of mine, then pushes his jeans to his ankles. He steps out of them, flicking his feet.
Inside his tight, short boxers, he's hard. The thick, long shape of his cock is upright and tilting left, nudging at the thick elastic waistband of the boxers. There is a small wet patch next to his head.
"Fuck, you're big." 
"Is that a problem?" He asks with a smirk.
"No, that is the complete opposite of a problem." 
And my cheeks are full and red with stifling heat. My breasts are flushed pink too, heaving inside my lace bralet and painfully sensitive.
"Lie back," he says, quiet now. "Shift up to the pillows."
I do as he asks, then put my weight back on my elbows to watch as he puts a knee onto the bed and crawls over my body.
He takes my knees in his hands and pushes my legs further apart, skims his palms up my thighs before he pulls at the button of my jeans. He takes them off with two quick tugs and throws them aside, all bunched up.
He lies between my legs and wraps his fingers around the back of my knees. When he looks up at me, his eyes are hot and unfocused. He pushes his chin over my thigh and smiles to himself as prickles run through me and a gasp drops off my lips. 
He turns his head and takes some of the doughy skin from my inner thigh into his mouth and sucks hard. I shake and buck closer to him.
He takes his time, teases his way up my thigh, kissing and nibbling at me hard enough to have me trying to stifle the moans that fall out of me. I am panting and grabbing fistfuls of the comforter by the time he pushes his nose against my panties.
He kisses me through the fabric, his teeth dragging across it as he skims his mouth down over my pubic bone, down until the soft end of his nose rubs on my clit. My breath catches and my hips push up against his face.
"You're eager," he murmurs.
"Do you blame me?"
He shakes his head, locks his mouth over my clit and draws on it through my panties. 
I cry out and reach forward to clutch at his hair. 
He moans and sucks again. 
I kick my feet out, curl my toes against the mattress and writhe against his chin. 
"More," I breathe out, whining.
He skims his mouth down between my legs. I feel the breath he takes in through his nose and feel the moan he lets out when he presses his mouth back to my panties. His tongue pushes against my thong, presses it tight to the tender rim of my cunt. 
I bite my lip and let my head drop back to the sheets.
Finally, his hands skim up to my waist and his fingertips curl around my thong. He pulls it down gently and tosses it aside before settling back between my legs.
And this time, the sensations that rush through me are more intense. His mouth is on my skin, not my panties. I can feel how soft his lips are and how warm his mouth is and the eager prod of his tongue between my labia as it searches for the velvet rim of my cunt. I push against the hands wrapped around my knees, pull on his curls, grow breathless and wetter and louder. And even though the pressure of his mouth is heavenly, even though it has the room spinning some, I have to ask for more.
I shift my hips, bend towards him and grind against his nose.
"Faster," I breathe.
He raises his eyes and nods minutely.
He sucks hard but brief, keeps his tongue low. 
And it starts, the ripple through my perineum, grabbing at my cunt. The pulse of my clit inside his mouth. The tight clench and flex throughout my vulva. 
The first drop falls out of me. 
And he pauses the drawing breaths on my clit to lap it up. 
He groans when he pulls on my clit this time and that's enough of a cherry on top to have cum rushing out of me. I lie back and surrender myself to the shudders and ripples and beats in my body, turn my head to stifle my moans against my shoulder. 
He lifts his head. His chin is slick, gleaming with my cum. He runs the back of his hand across it and stretches over me, leaning down to steal a kiss from me as I buckle with the last of my orgasm. 
I taste good on his lips and tongue. 
I slip my arms around his back and push his hips down, grind up against him. I feel his boxers rub on my pubic hair and gasp at the friction. I close my legs tight against his thighs and pull him closer. I get my hands between our bodies and take his cock into them, to size him up and squeeze him.
He groans and kisses me, his tongue nudging against mine.
I pump his cock a couple of times, palm tight to his shaft. He flexes inside my fingers and grinds his hips down.
When I let go of him and slide my hands over his shoulders, he holds his body low and tight to mine. 
I feel the slick head of his cock pressing through my labia, nudging against the swollen and cum-soaked rim of my cunt. He stops for a moment, drops his head to my breasts, rubs his cheek over my bralet.
"Take this off," he mumbles. "I want to see you."
I do as he asks and find his palms on my breasts not a moment later, squeezing gently as his thumbs roll my stiff nipples.
"Fuck me," I tell him. "Ugh please just-"
"Fuck you," he mumbles against my lips. "I heard you." 
He breaks out of my arms and kneels back to slide off his boxers. 
Unasked, he reaches across to the bedside table and pulls out a condom, slides it on quickly and carefully. He's had practice with that, but at least it means he behaves when he's behaving badly. 
"Do you want lube?"
I blush and glance away.
"No," I squeak. "Feel me, feel how hard I came for you already."
His fingers ease through my labia and circle my cunt. He slides one finger in with no resistance. I moan for him, more to urge him on than to communicate the good feeling. I am swollen wide and wanting and his one finger is nowhere near enough to have me thoughtless and needy. 
"Fuck," he murmurs. "You're so soft and wet. I can't wait to feel you around my cock."
"Oh God, just rail me."
He laughs gently.
I know which words will do it for him. 
"Bury your bone in me, deep as it will go."
He throws himself over me, takes my waist in his hands and pushes his hips against mine. His cock slips through my vulva and I buck along his thick inches, desperate to feel him inside me. 
I take him in my hands once again and guide him in. 
He is slow with the first inch. 
His eyes are clouded and his mouth hangs open even when he tries to bite his lip. His head hangs low. 
And then he presses deeper with one smooth thrust.
I grab at his back, nails digging into his skin.
I let him set the pace, swift and rough.
He drops his head to my breasts again, closes his mouth around one of my nipples and rolls it under his tongue.
I whine, cry out and curse, scratch his back as I move with him.
He holds me in place, pushes me into the mattress, pounds into me. When he pauses between each thrust, deep inside of me, I feel every inch of him; his head against the blind end of me, massaging a dull ache, the rub of his shaft on the soft muscle of my cunt, the teasing, gasp-inducing press of his wide base against my hymen.
I look into his face to see his eyes open and trained on me, on the smile fluttering on my lips.
We're both panting, moving without thinking, pressing closer, desperate for more, and more, and more.
I take his chin in my palms, pull his head up to mine so I can kiss him.
And the wet ripple shoots up through me like a flag or a green-light. I push against him, wanting and needing some pressure on my clit. 
I skim a hand between us and sweep a slow circle around my clit. I tremble with the sensation, shift beneath him, raise my knees a little. 
"What's up?" 
"Uh, I need more pressure."
He gathers my thighs into his hands and holds them close about his hips. I lock my legs around his back and suddenly that last thick inch of him is pressing inside and my clit is rubbing against his pubic hair.
My head tips back.
"Yes."
He keeps his hands on my thighs and stretches forward to place light kisses all over and down my neck as he thrusts short and deep, without withdrawing.
"Mmmph," he groans. "Fuck, you're so fucking wet."
I can't open my eyes to look at him, can't nod either.
"Uh huh," I reply, thoughts only on the sensations ripping through me, the thick shaft of his cock splitting me apart.
I drag my nails across his shoulders.
His cheek rubs against mine. He bites my earlobe again and my clit twitches in response, my cunt grabs at him and pulls him deeper.
"I'm gonna come." 
I meant to be quiet but I think the words are more of a shout.
"I should fucking hope so," he says, his breath on my skin. "I'm being so good to you, after all."
I let out a wordless cry.
He pulls out a few inches and rubs against me, moving his hips slowly and deliberately. 
I push against him, wind my hips gently.
When he slams back into me, I rock beneath him, struggle for breath, grab blindly at his neck and fist his hair.
My cunt is aching, beating fast and growing yet more slick. I feel the first beaded drops of cum build within me, feel the ripples build into the waves.
I shake as the wave breaks.
His next thrust is slow as he pushes against the gentle, warm surge of cum. When he pulls out, I feel it rush over my vulva, run down my perineum and onto the slopes of my thighs.
"You," he groans. "God, you're so much." 
He pounds against me, his thrusts shallow now. I tilt my hips up against his, still feeling the orgasm coursing through me, still moaning and gasping and grunting. 
He puts his nose to the hollow of my throat and bites at my skin. His thighs push against mine and nudge them wide. His hips pump wild. His cock twitches and pushes blindly at the walls of my cunt. His groan vibrates through my skin.
"Fuck," he mumbles, tilting his head back so he can kiss the underside of my chin.
He stays where he is for a few moments, kisses me chastely, twirls some of my hair around one of his fingers.
He rises slowly, puts his weight on his palms and withdraws inch by inch, smiling at the way I gasp when I am finally empty again. 
When I press my thighs together, I find I am dripping and feel a bitter ache, a growing soreness, deep inside my cunt. 
He spreads himself out on his back next to me, head on one pillow. His cock is still hard but then tilts towards me as it slowly grows soft. 
I take a few deep breaths and grind my thighs together to gasp out the dying moment of my orgasm, then roll against his side. He puts a hand to the small of my back and skims his fingertips across my skin, circles the dimples either side of my spine. 
This is comfortable, the silence, and I smile into his chest as it goes on. 
The moment doesn't last forever, much as I might want it to.
He stretches his arm and smacks my ass. I giggle and push my ass up, wiggle it as it stings. He trails his fingers up to the small of my back, down to tease between my cheeks.
"Could you go grab us beers?"
"Sure."
He shuffles away and lifts his t-shirt from the floor, watches me with heavy eyes as I pull it over my head. When I stand, the t-shirt hangs just a couple inches down my thighs. If I bent over, you'd see my cunt plain as day. 
But at least most of the hickeys between my collarbone and cunt are hidden, all of them except the several messy bruises on my neck and a stray above my right knee. 
I walk out with weak knees and stop quickly at the edge of the kitchen.
A broad-shouldered, shaven-headed hunk is standing in the light from the fridge. He's bare-chested, wearing just gym shorts, chewing on a carrot as he stares into the fridge. His head turns. His eyes sweep over Nathan's t-shirt.
"Hey," he says. "It's that time again then."
I frown. 
"What time?"
"Time to be friendly to this month's conquest," he answers.
I scoff, cross my arms. 
"What did he send you out for?"
"Beer." 
He takes two bottles from the fridge and I step closer to take them from him before rushing back into Nathan's bedroom and slamming the door behind me. 
I throw Nathan his bottle. It lands with a dull thump on the comforter, by his feet.
"What?" He asks.
"Do you want to know what your roommate just called me?"
Nathan glances at me, uses the edge of the nightstand to pop open his beer.
"This month's conquest," he says blankly.
He takes a sip from his beer.
"I have a habit of sleeping with underclassmen."
"And throwing them out when they're used?"
His mouth pops open in surprise at my words.
"I, well, things get sticky when you're the TA."
I shake my head, "I'm so fucking stupid." 
I set my bottle of beer on the radiator and grab my jeans off the floor. Just as I go to step into them, one foot off the floor, Nathan chuckles and bites his lip.
"What's funny?"
"You might want to put your panties on. Unless you're leaving me them."
I throw my jeans aside and scan the room for my panties. 
He unfurls his left hand and dangles my thong off his index finger.
"Yes, I've been a manwhore," he says, "But we never said this had to be anything."
"You could at least pretend I'm special."
"You are."
I take a deep breath and tell myself not to believe him.
"The others were one night stands. I've seen more of you than any other girl I've fucked in the last year."
"Oh." 
The syllable means nothing. 
"Stay," he says softly. "Drink your beer."
"Why? If you don't do more than sex."
"Because I like you. Because if you were just sex,  I would have had you at the Pi Zeta house, after beer pong."
"Give me my panties back."
He pitches them across the room. I lean forward and snatch them out of the air. And once they're securely back on, I sit back next to him in bed and have him pop open my beer. 
We sip quietly, not making eye contact. 
He sits up straighter, puts an arm around my shoulders, trails his fingertips down the top of my arm and squeezes me. 
"You want to go again?"
I shake my head.
"I'm still fried. When was the last time you just slept with a girl?"
He thinks, tilts his head back as he drinks.
"Like, 18 months ago?"
"Don't you miss it?"
"Maybe I'll know how much I missed it if you stay over and be my little spoon."
"Maybe."
When we finish our beers, he puts the bottles aside on the nightstand and lifts his phone. He twists his wrist to show me his lock screen, to show me the time. But all I pay attention to is the picture underneath the numbers; lush green rolling fields, with sheep dotted across them. 
"It's late," he mumbles. "I'm about to crash."
He shifts down the bed, tucks his legs underneath the soft, thick comforter. I slide my legs beneath it, roll onto my side and push back against him. 
He throws an arm over my middle and pushes his face against my shoulder.
He kisses my shoulder, then pulls back.
I wriggle around, trying to get comfortable. 
He sighs and presses against me, nudges his knees against the back of my legs.
"Stay still, pretty girl."
His voice is low, thick and almost incoherent with oncoming sleep.
I lie beside him, enjoy the way he presses against me through his sleep, and squeeze my eyes shut. Though I yawn, and my limbs feel heavy, it takes me some time to feel tired, and much longer to fall asleep.