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Jayce Talis carries himself with the near-awkwardness of newfound confidence. It hits you after a lecture as he brushes past you, hurrying out of the hall, and unwittingly slams his shoulder against the doorframe hard, that his physical appearance has only evolved into what you know it to be recently. That is the only explanation for the stretch marks on his biceps, the subtle clumsiness of his smile, the way he tends to accidentally break tools that are not designed to break with accidental, brute force. His strength, his width, his appearance, everything about Jayce Talis, is as new to him as it is to you, having only met him last October, in both your first year at the academy.
His shoulders are squared wide, squared back, and just...well, squared. As is his face, traditionally attractive with just enough little details to make it bewitching, one thorough glance at him is enough to tell that although they suit him perfectly, it has taken him some time to grow into the features he has now.
That's the first thing Jayce Talis is. Handsome.
Upon closer, but not a particularly thorough inspection, it's clear from miles away that he's smart. Talis speaks his mind during lectures, not in a way that begs to prove he is better than those that don't, but just for the sake of knowledge itself. Every word that leaves those stupidly kissable lips is dipped in warm curiosity.
Jayce Talis is incredibly intelligent, and not condescending about it.
Not that he ever could be. After well over a semester of watching him, you've found that Jayce is eager to please. Whatever a professor suggests, he's the first to offer to do it. Whatever help fellow students ask, he delivers, sometimes at his own expense.
That’s three things Jayce Talis is. Handsome, intelligent, eager. One good look at him, combined with said knowledge is confirmation enough that there’s most likely a fifty person waiting list to get into his pants.
Not that you’re on that waiting list. Not that you’d like to be. It’s just an observation.
Jayce is a friend, after all. Just two doors down the hall from your dorm, you attend most of the same lectures, sometimes sit together during lunch. You’ve seen the looks he gets from other students. You’ve also seen him blatantly ignore them. He can afford to do it, after all. There’s lots of people to choose from, and he can have his pick easily, if he so desires.
Which is why you almost drop your advanced thermodynamics textbook when your roommate drops the bomb on you. They say it offhandedly, like it’s another fun science fact or observation about your course material.
“Did you know that Talis is apparently a virgin?”
You snort with laughter, catch their mischievous little grin from across the room. “Yeah, and I spend my holidays in Bandle city.”
Your roommate scoffs. “I’m serious.”
Right. “And you heard that…where? And from whom?”
“What is this, a report? Do I have to cite my sources?”
You wave them off, focus back on your reading. “If you want me to believe nonsense like that, yes. I’d like to at least know who’s making that sort of shit up.”
“If you don’t believe me,” they lilt. “Why don’t you ask him? You two seem to get along suspiciously well.”
Pfsht. As if. Jayce Talis is not a virgin, and there’s no need for testing that. Because you’re 100% certain he’s not. Because Jayce Talis is gorgeous. Jayce Talis is smart. Jayce Talis is a people-pleaser. Jayce Talis is not a virgin.
Unfortunately, you are a scientist at heart. And a hypothesis, however outlandish, needs to either be proven right or wrong. There’s no harm in that, right?
That is, at least, what you tell yourself as you lay your hand on Jayce’s bicep when he tells you a joke during lunch. When you shift a little closer to his side during a study session, huffing out a frustrated breath against the side of his neck. When you rest your knee against his during a lecture. When you whisper a question into his ear during said lecture.
There is a pattern, you’ll have to admit. For someone that you’d supposed fucks whoever and to what degree he pleases, Jayce flusters.
Easily.
He watches your hand on his bicep with wide eyes, shivers when your cold breath hits his neck, goes positively rigid and stares straight ahead with terribly faked nonchalance when your legs touch. But when you whisper into his ear, you can actually hear him wince before he’s bolting out of the lecture hall the second you’re dismissed.
Jayce Talis actually might just be a virgin.
But nothing that you’ve observed thus far is conclusive enough. Not as conclusive as all the people visibly thirsting after him.
You need hard facts to prove a hypothesis right. Again, that’s just the scientific method. Definitely nothing on your part. Certainly nothing on your part, especially when you invite Jayce over for a study session when your roommate goes out for a party and is bound to not show up until early in the morning. And most surely entirely zero percent absolutely nothing on your part when you invite him to sit on your bed as you ask him to explain Heimerdinger’s latest course material to you.
You start slow; because if chemistry has taught you one thing, it’s that bringing in too much of a needed catalyst ruins the reaction, and that’s not what you’re going for. You’re going for the stoichiometrically perfect amount. In one practiced move, you pull up a chair to sit across from him at first, insist he stay seated on the bed to have all the books spread out across it at his disposal. Jayce seems to have a burning suspicion that that’s not your only reason, at least judging by the way he stares at the dip of the mattress below his hand as if it bears some sort of hidden meaning, which you suppose it does. Still, he gives you the benefit of the doubt; starts explaining.
You almost forget yourself — your plan, your hypothesis, your experiment — when he does. Jayce is not easy to follow, messy and enthusiastic in his explanations, but exactly said enthusiasm is what makes every word that leaves him worth following. Everything he says, be says with endearing, unfiltered interest.
You only remember to put your plan in motion by the time he’s already gotten through the first chapter you’d asked him to explain. Once Jayce takes a moment to arch his back before he hunches back over the book, you rise out of your chair, push it to the side. Purposefully, you lift your arms above your head, reaching for the ceiling in a way you know makes your shirt ride up your stomach, see if maybe Jayce’ll— yup. There isn’t any other confirmation needed when you hear him swallow, thickly.
You find him flushed, wide-eyed as you lower your arms with a pleased sigh. “Gods, my legs are pretty sore, too, I should probably change my position,” you mumble, bending forward, towards Jayce. He inhales with surprise as you brace yourself against his shoulder to reach across your bed, to one of your pillows, then drop it to the ground right at Jayce’s feet. Maintaining your previous indifference as you sit yourself on top of it, you cross your legs, let your elbows fall onto your thighs as you lean forward.
From how Jayce is sitting on the side of the bed, feet firmly planted on the floor, your chin is barely above the level of his knees, and you’re granting him a lovely view down the collar of your unbuttoned shirt.
He’s either too far gone to bother being subtle, or just forgets himself, but either way, he’s getting an eyeful of your exposed chest.
“Keep going,” you encourage.
He jumps at your words, almost as if he’d been startled out of a dream. You have him right where you want him, especially when he shakes his head, and makes a great effort to focus back on your face. “Sorry, what?”
“We’ve still got three more chapters left, right?”
“Uh, yeah. Do you…” He clears his throat, picks up the book. “Do you have any questions?”
You shake your head, smile, and it’s the truth. There are no questions, mainly because you already know a good chunk of what he’s discussing. If you have to pretend to not be on top of your studies for an experiment, you’ll gladly do it.
“Okay, um, so, this next one is a little tricky, but I brought this other book that’s less wordy and has a lot of diagrams, it really helped me understand.”
“Ooh, good thinking,” you praise, leaning forward, slowly, smoothly, tactfully. You wonder if Jayce can tell that every move of yours is calculated, or if he’s already too taken to notice. The latter seems to be the case, especially when you set your chin atop his thigh, mimicking fatigue. You look up at him through your lashes, smile, and, holy shit, Jayce actually fucking whimpers. “Do you mind? My neck hurts a little.”
It’s a hushed, high sound, buried deep in the back of his throat, before you feel the muscle below your chin going rock-hard.
“No, go, uh, go ahead.”
There it is. Eager to please.
You tilt your head atop his thigh, until your cheek presses up against him, and smile. “You sure?”
“Yeah, yes, of course.”
You smile up at him, giving him an earnest, sweet thank you, one that has his breath catching in his throat. Faked nonchalance is a terribly good look on him. He’s reaching for the book, quickly, too quickly, and cracking it open in one hand until it creaks. In spite of the shakiness to his hand, he makes shre he’s holding it at an angle that allows you to see its contents.
He’s so considerate that it hurts.
As Jayce begins explaining the diagram to you, he’s trailing his fingers over the curved lines with surprising certainty, stopping to tap or trace over certain pieces of information he deems important.
You consider yourself lucky to have understood the course material when Heimerdinger first explained it, because focusing is now a distant dream. Not with his hands on display like this; an innocent image so easily corruptible with just the right amount of imagination.
The dip of his digits between the pages, towards the spine of the book, has you thinking about how they’d feel inside you, instead, the circling of his index over a word has you wondering just how rough it would feel against your clit, going in the same, tight circles.
“Did you catch all that?” Jayce asks, raising a brow.
You nod, your cheek brushing the top of his thigh. For a moment, you want to prove yourself — and the fact that you’ve been able to follow his explanations — by summarizing everything in one sentence. But it dawns on you, just as you’re opening your mouth, that there is a much better way to go about it.
You don’t particularly succeed at trying not to smile mischievously when you extend your index, mapping out the beginning of the diagram Jayce had just explained to you at the top of his other clothed thigh. There’s a tremor that shakes his leg as you start to rephrase the information he had fed you minutes ago, trailing your fingertip upwards, further. Following the path of the diagram in your mind’s eye, your hand lowers towards the inside of his thigh. There, you make a point to finish your description of the scientific process, tapping your index, middle and ring finger to the taut muscle with finality.
It has exactly the intended effect.
Jayce’s grip on the book goes taut, and, to your dismay, he slaps it onto his lap, face-down, before you can gauge the reaction of his body to your touch.
Not that you need to. Jayce’s face is a hot shade of red, as he looks down at you in a way that can only be described as a lovely balance between horny and scared shitless.
Perfect.
You raise a brow, inching closer. In a clumsy tango, Jayce pushes himself further onto the bed, making up for the space you’d tried to close, bracing himself against the mattress, behind himself.
“Did I mess up?” you ask, tilting your head. There is a double meaning to your question, one you’re not sure Jayce is picking up on.
“No,” he croaks. “It’s…you did good.”
You hope you’ll be continuing down that path.
It hits you suddenly, that what you’re about to do is either going to cause the friendship you share with Jayce to explode in your face, or, hopefully, the exact opposite.
“Can I double-check?” you prod, sliding your fingers under the book on his lap. Slowly, you begin to lift it, and you think, for a moment, that you can see Jayce’s soul leave his body. “I’d like to be sure—“
His hand comes to press the book back down; hard and desperate. Not so different from what’s below the pages, it seems; Jayce realizes he’s pushed the back of your fingers against the factual proof you’ve been searching for.
With a gulp, he looks you dead in the eye, and it’s clear that you’ve bitten off more than either of you can chew.
You let out a breath that you hope comes off as surprised, rather than happy, when you tilt your head inquisitively. “Are you…?“
“I’m sorry.” His voice is meek, and he cannot, for the life of him, look you in the eye. Jayce covers his face with his free hand, closing his eyes. “I didn’t mean to— you’re just so—” His shoulders sink, the width of his frame you’d considered imposing when you first met is long gone. Really, all that makes him intimidating fades the moment he peeks at you from between his fingers. “I’m really sorry. Fuck.”
You think it’s about time you twist that last word into an expression of pleasure, rather than one of shame.
With just the tips of your fingers, you brush up his clothed leg, your touch faint, soft enough to stop, if he so desires. You feel your soul catch fire when his legs part a smidge.
“Nothing to be sorry for. Do you like it when I touch you, Jayce?”
There is no reply, he sits as still as the statues of renowned professors just outside the academy dorm. And, judging by the flexion of his muscles, he’s almost as much made of stone as they are, too. You brush higher up his thigh, further than you had before, stopping just below where the book still covers his crotch. You take a handful of the hard flesh on his inner thigh, and squeeze.
“Here?”
He nods.
You smile gently, easing your hand up his body, where his thigh meets his torso. He’s lucky his hand is still pressed tightly to his face, because you’re sure he would have gotten up and bolted out of the room if it had not stifled the groan rumbling in the back of his throat.
“You have no idea what you do to me,” Jayce whispers, swallowing thickly when you begin to knead at the muscle.
You hum. “You could always just…show me.”
Once your implication clicks, he finally looks you in the eye, seeking confirmation. You think the judgement-free hunger in your gaze speaks volumes, because next thing you know, he parts his legs wide. The book, the stupid fucking book, finally clatters to the ground. You wonder how it even managed to obscure the outline of him in the first place, because it’s anything but subtle, straining heavily against his academy slacks.
Every thought of yours comes to a screeching halt, all except for the burning force that drives you forward, drives your hands forward, to the buttons of his pants.
Strong hands find your wrist, stopping you firmly, but gently no less. “Wait,” Jayce breathes, and holy shit, your roommate had not been lying. “I’ve never…”
His words hit you like a brick wall. A brick wall you’ve explicitly been warned about multiple times, but a brick wall no less.
Still, in spite of the verbal and physical proof you have at hand, you can’t quite believe it. “Really?”
Jayce looks at you like you’re making fun of him: slight furrow to his brow, subtle curve to the skin just beside his nose.
“Spare me the acting,” he replies. “I know everyone’s been talking about it after I slipped up and told Torek.”
It’s true.
It’s true.
You shrug, although you’re not sure how well that can conceal the disbelief you’ve battled with. The disbelief you’re still battling with. “I…figured they were lying..”
He shakes his head, looks away. “Sure.”
“Jayce, I hope you realize you could easily have your pick from half the students here. And even some of the professors. Have you seen how they look at you?”
To your surprise, your argument isn’t well received.
Quite the opposite, actually, Jayce doesn’t take it as a compliment.
“I don’t care how they look at me.” He braces his elbows on his thighs, leans forward, over you, until he’s mere inches away from your face. “I-I don’t care about what any of them want from me, either, except for—“ His eyes snap to you, and what remains of his exhale leaves his lungs in a breathy stutter.
“Oh.”
You wonder why you’re realizing only now that every so-called hypothesis and curiosity and experiment you pulled in the name of finding out if Jayce Talis is a virgin or not has been nothing but a pitiful charade to hide the fact that you yearn to be the first person to touch him in ways no-one else has. And you wonder why you’re only realizing now that he wants you, too.
He’s turned down and ignored the 50 person waiting list just because he…essentially wants to grant you a VIP, exclusive pass into his pants. And maybe more.
You hope just one fuck won’t be the end of it, but you’re not about to press that issue right now. He’s already overwhelmed.
“It really doesn’t help that you’re so goddamn confusing,” Jayce continues after your prolonged silence, looking down at your lips for a moment, before his attention snaps back to you. “One day we’re friends and everything is fine and I’m learning to accept that, then the next you’re touching my arm, then you’re whispering into my ear during lectures in a way that definitely isn’t fucking friendly, and now you’re making me sit on your bed and you’re touching me and—“
“I really want to fuck you too, Jayce.”
It’s not ideal; a far cry from romantic, but it does the job at snapping him out of spiraling, and an even better job at getting the message across.
Both his hands come to cup your face, desperate, as he pulls you up, towards his own. You brace yourself against his abdomen, let him jump into the kiss with the ardor he’d been suppressing for so long. Teeth clashing awkwardly, it’s a messy rendition of a kiss, but you’d have it no other way.
He’s rigid under you, as is his tongue, and not in a good way; not how you want him to be — not if it’s caused by nerves. Coaxing anxiety away is never an easy feat, but you know for a fact that Jayce finds comfort in touch, and you’re about to use that to its full extent: your hands careful, they brush up his torso in exploration, halting at the sharp ridge below his jaw, which you come to cradle between your palms.
You let Jayce jam his tongue into your mouth, map it out to his heart’s content, before he retreats, licking at your bottom lip almost apologetically. You’re not the kind of person to mock enthusiasm, no matter in what form it comes.
“‘M sorry,” he breathes against your lips. “I’m just—“
You nod. You get it, you do. “I know.”
There’s a pause, a brief one, where you can see his shoulders slacken with relief, before he’s pushing forward again, waiting for you to lead. And you’re glad to test the waters, see what he likes, see what makes him melt in your hands. A gentle suck on the bottom of his lip turns out to make the very top of the list. It has Jayce squeezing your waist, parting his lips to let out a small moan. When you stop to nibble on it the next time, he begins pulling you into his lap with the force you’d only gotten to witness from afar.
You mold to the position he needs, straddling his lap, knees on either side of him, as you kick aside the remaining books that sit atop the bed. Once you settle on his lap fully, the thick outline of him tightly lined up with your heat, he presses his face into the groove of your neck, letting out a whimper.
“Can I—“ his lips brush your pulse when he speaks, and, if you pry your attention away from how his dick jerks in his pants, you can feel his face heat up against you. “Kiss you? Here?”
You nod, firmly. “You can do more than just kissing,” you assure. “Anything you want. Anywhere you like.”
Jayce stifles another whimper into your pulse point before he’s opening his mouth against your skin, lapping at it gently. When you scratch your nails at the back of his head softly, an encouragement, he complies, sucking the sensitized spot into his mouth, laving his tongue against it.
“There you go,” you whisper, letting out a soft hum when he sinks his teeth into your skin. “That— ah, good, feels good.”
At your words, his hips shoot up against you, his grip on your waist tight. The bulge in his pants strains against you with another twitch, palpably needier than the ones before it.
Jayce continues with even more enthusiasm, kissing his way to the front of your throat, licking under your jaw, trailing his lips down to your collar.
“Tell me,” he rasps. “What else feels good for you. I wanna—“
“Soon,” you interrupt. Leaning back on his lap, you ease your fingers under his chin, tilting it up, towards you. You shush an upcoming word of protest with a peck, before you curl against him, pushing your nose under his jaw. “I want to see what makes you tick, first. Is that fine?”
You feel the tendons under your lips flex as Jayce exhales. “Okay,” he says, one of the hands on your hips going to your back, drawing you in. “We can— yeah. Okay. Go on.”
“Tell me what you like,” you suggest, kissing at his jaw. The display of affection affects him; Jayce’s wide frame smoothes to yours, desperate for contact. “And where.”
“U-uhm,” Jayce squirms below you, thumbs drawing circles at your hips. “I’m…I’m not sure.”
Oh. Of course. He’d have no way of knowing; but, naturally, you’re more than keen on exploring.
“I’ll help you figure it out.” You lick a stripe up the muscle that juts out the most, following it upwards, to the sensitive spot below his ear.
“How about here?” you breathe, circling the slick tip of your tongue over the spot.
You don’t need the confirmation. Not when Jayce stutters out a hushed moan, the arm looped around your middle tightening. You flatten your tongue against the spot, and he’s a goner.
“F-fuck,” he grits out, nodding. “Yeah. There.”
You don’t really need to know any more than that. Jayce tilts to let you tease him to your heart’s desires, to let you sink your teeth into the tight sinews of his neck and suck them raw.
Pressing a smirk into his neck, you press a kiss to the puffy, red patch of skin, before you brush your lips over the shell of his ear, downward. “And here?” you continue, making sure your tone is particularly syrupy, before you suckle at the lobe of his ear, where you notice a small scar.
“O-oh gods,” he keens. Jayce holds you in place needily, burying his face against your shoulder, before he starts rutting up against your clothed cunt. “Yes.”
That’s the spot.
“Feels like—“ You lick at the shell of his ear again when he speaks, letting out a soft breath. Jayce’s entire frame positively trembles between your thighs. “Fuck—! Feels like you’re…s-setting my spine on fire or something.”
Pulling back, you grin at his choice of words, raising a brow. It has the opposite effect of what you’re going for: Jayce’s hands drop from your hip and back to the front of your thighs, he looks away.
“Sorry, that was…really dumb.”
“It wasn’t.” You shake your head, cupping one hand over the bruise just below his ear, before you’re tenderly brushing it forward, until your fingers rest against his Adam’s apple. It bobs below your hand with a thick swallow. You raise your thumb to his chin, tip his face towards you, and gods above, he’s gorgeous. It takes a lot out of you to find your words when his eyes fall lidded, watching you through thick, dark lashes. “I like it when you talk, and even more when you moan. Don’t hold back, okay? I want to hear everything.”
He only nods again, quick and hurried, before he tilts his head to the side again, an invitation. An invitation you would never dream of turning down.
Starting with a tame lick, you pull your lips back to scrape your teeth across the skin, downwards, to his collarbone. Your hands meet his at the highest button on his academy shirt. “Take it off?” you say — a suggestion, rather than a demand.
“Can you lock the door?” Jayce asks, voice hushed. “Everyone’s already up in my business, I’d rather not have anyone walking in on—“
“Of course.” You smile up at him, pressing one final, chaste kiss to his throat before you get up and tiptoe your way past the scattered textbooks, to the door. The moment the lock clicks shut, you look Jayce’s way: shirt hanging unbuttoned to expose the front of him, warm and tan, begging to be touched. He’s changed his position, too. With his shoes kicked off, he’s laid back on your bed, supporting himself on his elbows.
Almost like he’s begging to be caressed until your hands run dry and hot with friction, until there’s not a crevice of him untouched, unsmothered, unloved.
“You look amazing,” you assure, moving to straddle his hips again. The breath he lets out almost sounds relieved; like he’d missed the weight of you on top of him. Greedily, you let yourself take in the divots between his muscles, the pulsing of his abdominals, the jutting of his collarbone, sweat pearling over it and down his pecs — perfect. All of him. “Can’t wait to touch you,” you say, pushing the undone shirt apart, but not acting on what you’re so clearly aching to do. Not yet.
“Then stop waiting,” he replies with surprising smoothness. In a movement that’s natural, almost relaxed, he pushes his chest forward with the arch of his back, practically offering himself up to you on a silver platter. You don’t need his final word of encouragement, but it’s still a welcome one; it has you smiling as you lower your face to his collarbone. “Or do I need to beg?”
“I’m not opposed to that.”
Jayce’s breath catches in his throat when you smooth your lips over the notch of his clavicle, nipping and kissing at it, before you venture lower. The groove of his sternum is solid under your open mouth, pulsing rhythmically with the steady, fast heartbeat below. You flatten your tongue against it, eager to drown in the sensation of the pounding below speeding up.
Both his hands shoot to the back of your head the very moment you deviate from the middle of his chest to the meat of his pectorals, sucking it between your teeth. A hum that sounds equal parts surprised and pleased slips from Jayce’s throat; you steal a glance up at his face to find it contorted with pleasure.
“That, ah—!“ His voice breaks off when your tongue smoothes over his nipple, wet, warm, soft. You suckle it into your mouth slowly, curling your tongue around the nub, reveling in the hitch of his breath. The moment you unlatch from it, it peaks up, Jayce’s entire body flooding with goosebumps. To say you’re proud of your discovery would be a massive understatement. “Fuck, that feels…s-so much better than I thought it would.”
“Oh?” You grin up at him, pinching his nipple between your fingers gently, licking at the other before you speak. “What else have you thought about?”
His brain blanks at the question.
“Ah, uhm…” Jayce swallows thickly, a fragile hum rumbles in his throat. “Fuck. Your, your mouth on me.”
A mischievous idea comes to you, one which you’re sure will have him go absolutely mad. Armed with both the knowledge of exactly what he wants, as well as the fact that he is willing to beg for it, it doesn’t take a genius to come up with a plan.
“My mouth on you?” you ask, feigning cluelessness. “Where?” You make a point to blow out cold hair over his cold, wet nipple. Then, you move on to the other, sealing your lips around it.
It has the desired effect; with a mewl, Jayce is arching his chest against your mouth, seeking the contact with every fiber in his body. He’s pliant for you, pluant for your touch, like he needs it.
It’s endearing how desperate he is for your tongue swiping wetly against his nipple, so you linger more than you’d planned. You nibble, kiss, and lick until you’re sated in every sense of the word, reveling in his little whimpers, in the feel of his skin, the warmth of him, everything leaves your mind buzzing.
There’s still no answer from him yet, but you’re determined to earn yourself one. So, you resume your descent towards exactly what he’s asked for.
But not without driving him crazy with it, first.
“Here?” you ask, mouthing at the tight lines of his clenched abdominal muscles.
The strangled, pathetic moan he lets out confirms that you’re subjecting him to the perfect combination between toruture and pleasure.
“Lower,” he gasps. You comply, of course you do, sucking at the crescent of his hip, then scraping your teeth over it. It’s clear that Jayce can’t decide between pulling away or pushing himself against your mouth; with a hiss, his hands find your head, tugging you away. “Careful,” he breathes. “I-it feels good, but it’s—“
You smile, thumbing at his hip bone. “Sensitive?”
It’s clear Jayce isn’t used to the descriptor, especially not if it’s aimed at him. Still, it makes his clothed cock jump from where it’s pressed up against your chest.
“Yeah,” he finally agrees.
The kiss you press to his ilium is gentle the next time around, barely a peck, before you work your lips down the groove of it, towards the middle of his lower abdomen, which is drawn into a well-defined V just above his boxers and unbuttoned pants.
You don’t have to suggest shedding the layer of clothes now. Jayce raises his hips to work them off himself, barely to the middle of his thighs, but leaves his boxers on.
Still nervous.
Very much unlike any other guy you’ve taken to bed so far. Virgin or not, they’d jumped at the opportunity to jam their dick into whatever hole you’d offered, eager to take their pleasure, then their leave. Jayce is different, and not because he’s smart, or handsome, or eager, but because he’s mindful of the pace you set, mindful of what you want to do to him, even if your plans border on cruel with their teasing.
You part your lips just enough to envelop the root of his cock’s outline through the fabric of his boxers. Jayce cusses, something incoherent and strangled, as you ghost your mouth down his clothed length, to the wet patch waiting at the tip.
He whimpers when you slot it between your lips and lick at the dark spot, which grows. You’re not sure how much of it is due to your spit, and how much is due to his arousal.
“Please.” Jayce bucks up against thin air as you venture lower, to the inside of his thigh. With his pants barely pulled down, he can’t spread his legs far, but that does little to stop you from dipping your head between them and sinking your teeth into the flesh of the first one that’s within reach.
His voice cracks with the moan he lets out, unsure if he needs more of the pleasurable sting, or if it’s too much.
“Please what, Jayce?” you purr, licking and kissing at the bite marks you've left behind.
His hesitation doesn’t last long, and a part of you suspects he won’t, either.
“I want you to suck me off,” he breathes, and, in spite of his state, is quick to tack on exactly what you want to hear. “Please.”
You hook your index into his boxers, look up at him to make absolutely sure that there are no second thoughts or feelings brewing in his head. “Lift your hips,” you say, and of course he does exactly as told.
The moment the cold air hits his scorching skin, Jayce fails miserably at holding back a low, strangled whine. His cock is like the rest of him — a smidge darker perhaps — but pretty. Standing at full mast, weeping for attention with a drop of precum.
Jayce is gorgeous like this: bare and vulnerable before you. He helps you get rid of his pants entirely, tossing them somewhere among the scattered textbooks on the floor, before he spreads his knees, and you take the spot offered. He watches you with blown pupils, lidded eyes following the hand that stops to squeeze at his thigh, where a bruise is forming. The fact that you’re the first person to be treated to such a delightful sight only makes it all the more meaningful to you.
The mattress shifts when he props himself up on his elbows, watching you with a telling bob of his throat. There’s a doubt he wants to address, that much is clear based on his expression. You answer his unspoken second thoughts in the form of your hand wrapping around the middle of his shaft: whatever he’d wanted to say is long forgotten as he parts his legs further for you. You figure a slow start would suit the situation best, you don’t want to cut his enjoyment short. Delicately, you close your lips around the slit, lapping at the clear drop of salty liquid.
Instantly, Jayce’s entire frame curls forward, over you, jaw clenched.
“Fffffuck, yes,” he breathes, cradling the back of your head. “That’s—” You keep your mouth sealed around him tight, lowering yourself until the tip of him hits your palate. A groan rumbles in his chest, spilling out a moment later. “So good, fuck, thank you.”
With a smile, you look up at him. Out of all the people you’ve used your mouth on, Jayce has got to be the first one to thank you before you’ve even started properly. Scratch that, he’s the first one that thanked you outright.
You’re determined to take him further, and give him something to actually be thankful for. Adjusting your breathing, you swallow what’s left of his length until he nudges the back of your throat, then close your fist around the root of his cock. Jayce lets out a sigh that sounds like it stems from pure relief, big hands coming to cup your jaw and stroke at your cheeks.
“D-don’t, ah—“ he chokes when you inch him out of the tight embrace of your lips. You’re giving him only a moment before you’re sinking back down, sucking him in. His entire body jolts at the sensation. “Fuck. Don’t go too fast. I-I don’t think I’ll last long, sorry.”
You make a point to curl your tongue around the underside of him as you draw him out of your mouth, holding the twitching base of his cock steadily. For reassurance, you suppose, you press a kiss to the glans, now a lovely red, just like his face and chest, and it’s safe to say that the gesture is well-received. Instantly, more clear liquid oozes from the tip, and Jayce’s hand is tightening in your hair.
“I don’t care how long you last,” you reply, cupping your hand around one side of his cock to smother the other half of it in open mouthed kisses. The entirety of it jumps between your lips, and you’re rewarded with a pleasured mewl that shoots straight to your core. “Just enjoy yourself, alright, Jayce?”
He nods, petting your hair.
“Good boy.”
The grip in your hair urges you to a halt as Jayce grips his own cock around the base over the hand you’d set there, hard. “I—“ He shudders when you still suck a kiss to the side of his dick, dragging forward, to the head of his cock, which you smear with your spit and another wet kiss. “Gods. If you say that again, I’m gonna cum.”
Oh.
Oh.
You’re definitely going to say it again.
“Are you into that?” you ask, making sure the puff of your breath hits the wet tip of him. “Being told you’re doing so well, letting me make you feel good, like you deserve?”
“Fuck,” he claps the hand that had been buried in your hair over his mouth, thrusting his cock into your loose grip, until the head pushes against your lips, a plea.
“You are,” you conclude, unable to hold back a grin. The drop of precum on his slit swells until it’s pearling down the underside of him, and he gives a weak twitch. You decide suddenly that you’re going to use this Achilles heel of his to its full, pleasurable extent.
Craning your head, you lap up the salty drop, and find yourself eager for more.
“I want your cum on my tongue, Jayce,” you breathe. You start moving your hand, stroking him quickly, in a way that has him arching his back. Jayce moans against his palm, nearly sobbing. “All of it. Think you can do that for me, like a good boy?”
He nods, squirming under your touch. “Fuck, yes, yes, please— ah!”
His orgasm is a full body reaction, and the fact that your words have triggered it, rather than physical stimulation, has your ego swelling like never before. Jayce grasps your chin desperately, jerking your head up to grant him what you can only guess is a painfully erotic view: your hand, working him to completion, and your tongue curling around the sensitive underside of him, easing him inside, jaw hinged open wide. He paints the inside of your mouth white with a loud, high moan, fighting against the waves of pleasure that wreck him to keep his eyes open, fixed on your tongue, coated in his spend.
Then, he’s silent, and you wonder if his soul has left his body along with his orgasm. Jayce squeezes his eyes shut, his breath coming out quickly, sharply. You wait patiently for him to regain himself.
It’s clear he’s recovered some semblance of his thinking once he starts to slowly rub the tip of his cock against the slick mess he’s made, keening at the post-orgasm pleasure-pain, but not stopping. His thighs start trembling beside you as you close your lips around his glans, giving one last, gentle suckle. With it, you swallow everything he’s given you.
When he finally remembers how to form words, they’re interrupted by his racing breaths. “Wow. That was—“ He swallows, stroking at your cheeks, still hollow around him. “Perfect. Fuck.”
Slowly, you draw back just enough to ease his cock out of your mouth. It twitches against your lips, and Jayce’s thumb swipes at them to break the shiny string that connects your lips to his tip. You realize he’s mustered a full-fledged thought the moment he frowns. “I hope it doesn’t— I mean…does it, uh, does it taste bad?”
That’s his first worry?
You laugh a little, tilting your head. “What, your cum?”
He nods.
Who are you to discourage curiosity?
“Not to me, but, if you want to know…” You venture back down, swiping your tongue over the red tip of him to gather the remains of his seed, to which he lets out a surprised moan. You sit up, lean forward, angling his chin towards you, an offer. “You can have a taste.”
He pulls you in nervously, dipping his tongue between your lips to sample what you’re offering. There’s more poise to his kiss now, more certainty, he takes his time, letting out a soft breath once he finds what he’s looking for. Jayce smooths his slick tongue over yours, then against your lips, with a wet, sloppy sound. He pulls away, and his expression has you chuckling.
Brows knitted together tight, he swallows.
“Well?”
He shrugs. “Salty. Weird.”
You snort at his choice of words, kiss his stubbled cheek. “It’s an acquired taste.”
He’s definitely recovered from post-orgasm brainlessness now. With doe-like amber roaming down your body before it snaps back to you, he reaches out.
“In that case, can I, uh…” Jayce clears his throat, smoothing his hand over your stomach, dipping his fingers into your waistband barely. “Can I acquire it, too?”
As if you could ever say no to that.
“Yeah.” You nudge his shoulder. “Move over.”
He does, movements sluggish and boneless as he goes to kneel at the edge of the mattress, watching you claim his spot amongst the sheets, parting your legs. You curl your finger, motioning for him to approach. Almost as if you’d tugged on a string that maneuvers him forward, between your parted legs, he complies.
“Okay,” Jayce says, more to himself than to you, licking his lips nervously. He falters once he goes for the buttons of your pants. You lift your hips to shimmy out of them, and your underwear, too, far beyond the point of being shy.
Much unlike Jayce, it seems.
He’s taken with the sight of the wet spot on the fabric, and the thin, shiny string stretching between it and your dewy folds. Slowly, Jayce lowers the fabric down your legs until the string breaks, landing on your thigh coldly. You can tell he tries his very best not to hesitate when he lowers his face. The hand on your ankle is warm, guiding one of your knees to rest on his shoulder.
Just as he is with science, Jayce is analytical, ponders his next move.
But this isn’t an exact science — far from it, actually.
You figure you’ll help take some of the edge off, for starters.
“Just use your hands, for now,” you assure. Subconsciously, you reach down to cup your palm around his jaw. You just realize what you’ve been doing once Jayce leans into it, calmer now, before he’s focusing back on the task at hand. Back on you.
Unexpectedly steady, his non-dominant hand comes up to rest above your folds, easing them apart with a slick sound. With that, his entire demeanor changes.
“You’re really wet,” Jayce remarks, tone thick and low — almost cocky.
Huh.
Someone’s come a long way; both figuratively and literally.
“Can’t help it, virgins really get me going,” you joke, but it still has him stopping, fixating you with disappointment. Rolling your eyes, you flick at his forehead. “Relax, Talis, I was joking. You get me going. Now — gimme your hand.”
With a smile of his own, albeit slightly annoyed at your antics, he lets you press your palm up against the back of his knuckles, and guide him to your folds.
Even the faintest brush of his fingertips over the outside of your needy cunt is electric, has you parting your legs wider, humming with anticipation. Although Jayce notices, small smile tugging on his lips, he chooses not to say anything about it.
“Start here,” you instruct, pushing his middle finger to press up against your slick entrance, dipping in just the tip of it. He’s eager, wants to press in more, but a pointed look from you says otherwise. Easing his drenched fingers to where you need them most has you shivering, especially when the pad of his finger scrapes up against the waiting bundle of nerves just right. “R-rub here. In small circles, steady rhythm.”
He complies down to a T.
Pleasure shoots through you, from cunt to spine; you can’t tell how much of it is due to Jayce, and how much of it is due to the fact that you’d been aching to be touched. He’s doing great, circling you just as instructed, although a bit more roughly than you thought he would. “A-ah, gently, Jayce, gently,” you keen. He adapts right away, and, damn him, he’s leaning to kiss the inside of your thigh apologetically, too.
“Sorry,” he mutters. “This better?”
Who allowed him to be this perfect?
“Yes,” you confirm, surprised at the airyness of your voice. “Keep going.”
He does — you feel yourself growing increasingly slick under the insistence of his finger, textured and wet, exactly where you need it, rubbing up against all the right spots.
Once he’s figured out the exact rhythm, speed and pressure that makes you keen, his confidence only grows. His touch loses its nervousness, grows almost steady, but still errs on the careful side. If you weren’t actively focused on enjoying the delicious friction, you could’ve sworn he’d let out a whimper in unison with one of your little moans.
“I wanna taste you.” Jayce’s breath is icy frigid over your cunt when he speaks, and one look down at him has you shivering. Eyes lidded with desire, waiting, kiss-raw lips parted just above where his thumb still works you rhythmically.
As if you could ever say no to that.
“Go ahead.” You run your hand through his hair, gently at first, before you grab at his roots, easing him forward. Jayce lets you guide his mouth where you want it, parts his lips over the slick skin the moment it’s within reach.
With surprising certainty, and no shame at all, he lays a thick swipe of his tongue over your hole, following it upwards, to where he’s rubbing at you. To your utter disbelief, a moan rumbles against your clit a moment later.
“Fuck,” he gasps, wetly kissing your clit, before he smothers the wet skin above it with his tongue. “I could do this forever.”
Your laugh, high and breezy, bleeds into a moan when he starts suckling on the bundle of nerves experimentally. Immediately, your hips buck against his mouth, eager for more. Jayce indulges you: his hands, calloused and huge, come up to guide your pelvis higher, holding you in place just right to push the tip of his tongue into you.
“Yes,” you cry out. “Just like that, Jayce, deeper.”
At your words, he audibly swallows back a moan, before he vigorously fucks his tongue into you. The relentlessness of his mouth against your cunt tells you all you need to know: he hadn’t been lying about wanting to do this forever.
“You’re so warm,” he gasps against your heat. When the mattress creaks, you lift your head, and find him rutting up against the sheets. “S-so soft. Oh, fuck.”
With a crease to his brow that betrays just how much he’s enjoying being the source of your pleasure, Jayce sinks his hot tongue back into you. It’s a slow affair, but deep and thorough no less, he’s eating you out like he’s savoring it.
Savoring you.
That alone makes up for his lack of experience, and, combined with the hand in his hair, tugging him wherever you need to feel him ravish you, makes for a true delight.
“Use your hands,” you instruct, yanking at his roots to bring his mouth to your clit. “Two fingers.”
With the way his groan reverberates into your flesh, you grow absolutely certain that he craves being bossed around, be it caused by the anxiety of not wanting to mess up, or his constant desire to please, you don’t know. What matters is that he finds your entrance faster than you expect, and eases just a finger into you, then two. Thick and callused, those are a stretch, stinging in the best way possible. A stuttering breath against your cunt later, Jayce halts, watching the way you spread around him with awe.
“O-oh fuck, it’s so warm, that’s gotta feel so good around—“ He snaps out of his thoughts suddenly, looks up at you. “Sorry. This is supposed to be about you, it’s just that…”
You nod, scratching your nails lightly at where you’d pulled on his hair, being met with a soft, pleased sigh. “I know. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about you fucking me too, Jayce, relax. Do you wanna do it now?”
The mere thought of it stirs him deep. He thinks he’s being subtle when he ruts his cock into the sheets at your words, and you suspect he’ll be saying yes in less than a moment.
“No. Wanna make you cum with my mouth first. It’s only fair.” At the mention of so-called fairness, you roll your eyes, amused. Undoubtedly, that reply is the most Jayce thing you’ve ever heard. “Plus, I feel like I could spend hours between your legs, just— just tasting you, y’know? Hearing you moan, gods. It’s…really nice.”
Nevermind, that’s the most Jayce thing you’ve ever heard.
“Likewise, Talis,” you assure. “I’d spend hours sucking you off.”
He snorts, and it’s heaven. Not just because his laugh is one of the most beautiful sounds you’ve heard, but because it’s factual proof that he’s growing more and more comfortable with this. With you. “Don’t think I could last that long.”
You hum, shrugging. Subconsciously, you let your hand slide out of his hair, and brush his stubbled cheek tenderly. “We’ll work you up to it. If you wanna keep doing this again, sometime.”
At your words, his breath halts, surprised, before he’s nodding.
“Yeah. I’d love that more than anything.” Jayce presses his cheek up against the inside of your thigh, stubble scratching at the sensitive skin. His eyes fall closed with a blissed out sigh that hits your sensitive, waiting folds teasingly. Much slower, but with the same passion as before, he lowers himself to resume his work. Now that the excitement from before has worn off ever so slightly, he musters the presence of mind to try new techniques, and figure out what works best. Sucking on your clit while circling it with the tip of his tongue turns out to be one of them. He’s tender with his touch, just like your hands on his face, encouraging him to taste you, to drown in you.
The rhythm of his fingers pistoning into you, however, contrasts the way his mouth works you starkly. Those, he’s relentless with, curling them upwards, towards your tummy, once it clicks that that’s what he needs to do to abuse the mind-numbing spot inside you. Meanwhile, the kisses he sucks to your clit are playful, almost loving, his cheeks hollowing every time his lips seal around it tight.
You don’t even know when exactly your pleasure crescendos so high that you feel your stomach coiling, your thighs starting to tremble around his head. But you do know that every swipe of his tongue against you is leaving you oversensitive, aching, needy, and that every time the pads of his fingers brush the spot that makes you see stars your hips grind against his face more insistently.
“Fuck, Jayce,” you keen, letting out a full body moan when he smiles against your cunt, smug. “You’re doing so well right now, don’t stop.”
At your words, he winces, and doubles his efforts. Without bothering to be subtle, he fucks into the mattress now, moaning shamelessly against your drenched folds. The vibration of his whines permeates your flesh, deep and genuine and perfect, and oh fuck, there it is.
Arching off the bed, you grind yourself against his tongue, his fingers, and he doesn’t stop, not even after he’s worked you through it. He prolongs the white hot delight that fizzes up inside you in whatever way he can, hellbent on squeezing every drop of pleasure out of you.
“Jayce,” you call out, “it’s— ah, it’s enough. C’mere, kiss me.” At your beck and call, he stops, crawling up to you. He tastes like your juices when he complies with your request, desperately, before his forehead falls against your shoulder.
If he hadn’t spoken the words right against your ear, you would’ve mistaken them for a pleading whimper.
“I’m so close right now, please, c-can I—“
You don’t bother saying yes. Instantly, you part your legs wider, easing your hands between your bodies to grasp his cock. It’s hot in your hand, pulsing with need as you angle it to catch against your entrance.
Even the promise of him filling you is addictive; you already know that although every touch leaves you quivering, he will treat you to a glorious stretch.
“Yeah, pretty boy. Come on, you’ve earned it.”
With that, he begins to push in, his arms on either side of you starting to tremble. It spreads to the rest of his body; by the time he’s eased his cock halfway in, he’s a mess, flexing and shaking above you. You hook one leg around his waist, and encourage him to sink further, deeper.
He’s big, an ideal, dizzying combination between thickness and length that leaves you with the most pleasurable sting of getting spread open wide.
You don’t think you’ve known a deeper satisfaction than the one in the moment his hips settle against your thighs, and he lets out a hearty, unsteady breath.
“Mmh, there you are, perfect,” you whisper, turning to press a kiss to his cheek. It’s damp against your lips, salty, and, the moment he sniffles, everything makes sense. “Jayce? Are you crying?”
Gods above, he is.
“I-I’m sorry, it’s just—” Jayce swallows, nuzzling under your jaw. “This is…the best thing I’ve ever felt in my whole life. Being so close to you, being inside you, it’s…fuck, it’s heaven.” His words are sharp against your neck, he sniffles again. You can feel your heart swell with affection for him, for this silly, perfect man.
“Kiss me,” you say again, at a lack of any better way of expressing what you’re feeling. You just know you agree; because if heaven exists, then truly, it’s located somewhere in Jayce’s arms, inches away from his chest, right in his tight embrace.
And a taste of it is on his lips.
He kisses you like it’s the last time he’ll get the chance to do it, messily propping his weight on one arm to push the other below your arched spine and hug you tight. In turn, you reciprocate: trapping him against yourself by wrapping one arm around his shoulder, and your legs around his waist. It’s a desperate embrace, so tight it leaves you breathless — combined with the feeling of his tongue swiping yours tenderly, it’s enough to have your head spinning.
The moment he parts from the kiss, breathless, you make a point to clench your walls around him, hard, which leaves him stifling a gasp below your jaw. With his lips sealed to your skin, he sucks it into his mouth harshly, and, encouraged by the hand you settle at the back of his neck, he sinks his teeth into the mark. It’s perfect, leaves you tingling all over.
You don't think you can take another second of his cock twitching inside you, otherwise unmoving.
“C’mon Jayce, I wanna feel you cum inside me.”
At your words, his cock twitches against your tight walls, and his voice catches in his throat. “M-mh, fuck, you want that? I-I mean, can I? Is it safe?”
“Yes.”
Your confirmation is all he needs. In a rush, the arm tucked below your back sinks to your hip bone, clutching it in a grip that’s certain to bruise.
With that, he fucks you like he means it.
Hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, he’s an absolute sight, sweat peraling down the groove of his collarbone, down his pecs, down his abdomen, all slick and sweaty and worked to the absolute limit, just because of you. Jayce pistons into your cunt recklessly, without regard for rhythm or poise, he takes what he needs from the hot embrace of your walls, drilling you deep, hard, thorough.
You already know he’s pent up, and the needy, forceful pace he sets is proof of it. If he weren’t fucking the soul out of you, you might’ve had your ego soaring at the fact that it was your pleasure, your moans, that brought him so close to the edge.
And your body that brings him over it.
“I’m gonna cum,” he gasps out, thrusts faltering. “Fuck, (y/n), I-I’m— a-ah—!”
His orgasm is a delight. He hunches over you, rutting up into your slick hole, barely giving himself the time to pull out before he’s ramming back in, fucking his cum into you. His lips smooth against the side of yours messily, and you’re quick to give him what he’s looking for. The moans he hums into your mouth are sinful, sated, high and wrecked — just like him.
As his voice grows silent, with tender, meek whines rather than full body moans, so do his sloppy thrusts, stilling with him stuffed inside you as far as he can go. You can feel your combined releases dripping out of you, down onto the sheets, and smearing onto him, as well.
Boneless, he lays his cheek on the mattress, right beside your neck, his entire body flexing and twitching, lost to post-orgasm bliss. You brush the strand of hair that sticks to his forehead back, and, after a moment of hesitance, press a kiss to his hairline. You’re not sure he’s registered any of what you’ve just done.
“Well, Talis, how was that?”
You jolt with surprise when Jayce laughs, blissed out and quiet and hoarse. One of his arms slides back under the curve of your back, pulling you in, while his mouth starts to smother your neck with kisses through his chuckle.
“So good,” he breathes, kisses trailing all the way up to your jaw, and, finally, your cheek, which he nuzzles against lovingly. His stubble scratches you raw, but you can’t be bothered to care, and push into the movement.
“It really was.” You nod, turn your head to place a kiss at his cheekbone as he pulls out. He crashes at your side, and you turn around to accommodate the two of you in the cramped space of your bed.
The only way to describe his expression is dreamy bliss, with his eyes closed and chest heaving. You find yourself enamored with his parted lips, raw, red, and slick.
Speaking of which.
“Hm. Are you sure this was your first time eating someone out?”
At your question, he peeks at you through his lashes.
“Well…” Jayce looks at you smugly, folding one arm under his head. You nearly miss his joke because you’re too distracted by the bulging of his bicep. “I’ve had plenty of practice, if you count me licking batter off whisks until they were spotless. That takes a lot of tongue coordination, just so you know.”
Snorting with laughter, you slap at his shoulder. To him, that’s incentive enough to keep going.
“Oh, or eating yogurt out of those little plastic cups without a spoon—“
Your stomach starts to ache along with the growing amplitude of your laugh. “Gods, Jayce, stop.”
“Okay, okay, sorry.” He raises the hand that’s not tucked under his head in mock surrender, and you realize that it doesn’t bother you, not even in the slightest bit, that this man is very likely to be your undoing. He falls serious. “Be honest, though. Was it alright? You don’t need to lie, I mean, I appreciated you trying to spare my feelings by pretending not to believe I was a virgin, but seriously —“
“I wasn’t lying,” you interrupt. “Not about you doing a great job, or about…” you trail off when he perks up at the praise, a slight smirk playing on his lips. You’re only now noticing the small asymmetry to them, and it’s endearing. Subconsciously, you thumb at the side that’s slightly fuller, before you look back up at him. “I meant it, Talis. You’re hot, you’re smart, you’re…annoyingly eager to please. Being a virgin doesn’t logically fit into the picture along with those characteristics, yknow?”
He grins, proud. “Well, thanks to you, it doesn’t anymore.”
“Ah, so now that you’ve done it once, you’ll go around clearing your reputation with it?”
“Maybe.” He shrugs. “I think some…factual proof would be good, too. I dunno if people will just be taking my word for it, y’know?”
This guy, you swear to Janna.
“What kind of factual proof are you looking for?”
“Well, for starters, I think the whole dorm heard you calling out my name when you came. Not to mention, this–” He grins, craning his neck to show off the hickey you’ve given him.“But I think you going out with me, like, officially, could definitely help, too, if you’re willing. I could take you out for some coffee, maybe finish explaining the course material to you?”
You smile. “Coffee sounds nice, but you won’t need to explain anything, Jayce. I already have a good grasp of what we’re being taught right now.”
You don’t think you’ve seen the cogs in his head turn quite this obviously, and mind you, you’ve sat next to him during lectures.
“Wait.” At your words, he frowns. “You mean to tell me this,” he gestures to the books scattered across your floor, “was just some excuse to get me into your bed?”
You shrug with one shoulder. “Seems to have worked just fine.”
Jayce actually laughs, and then he’s reaching out, cradling the back of your head in his palm. “Devious,” he says, pulling you in for a kiss. “You’re devious.”