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She’s staring at the shitty, half-remembered impressions of glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling. There’s maybe three, no, four that he got too lazy to remove and they’re arguably pretty impressive in their attempt to fight the darkness of his room with the blackout curtains and piles of blankets that felt thrown about on purpose.
She wasn’t convinced he wasn’t the type to futz with his hair for an hour to make sure a lock looked perfectly messy. Then again, his soft stomach and elastic-ripped boxers resisted any attempts to suppose he cared for appearances.
He was a walking contradiction in and of himself, and he had no business being as attractive as he somehow managed to be. She must be ovulating to think his snores were kinda cute — he would snort occasionally and it made her feel a little too domestic.
She could either lay here and get increasingly dangerously enamored with him, or she could make breakfast and satisfy her ovaries’ weird urge to play house.
Her stomach growled faintly as if to confirm her suspicions.
She managed to untangle herself from his surprisingly-strong grip without waking him, though maybe he was halfway to hibernation based on his deadweight and utter lack of reaction to outside stimuli.
She rummaged about and found her shorts, briefly considering stealing a sweatshirt of his till she sniffed it — okay, maybe she huffed it, then hurriedly shoved it away from her hormones.
Pull yourself together, what the hell, it’s not like this is happening again for another half a year.
She picked through the nest of his room and made her way to the tiny galley-style kitchen that mirrored hers. She took stock of his fridge and pantry, letting out a tiny whoop of joy at half a dozen eggs, not expired, stashed behind some mason jar experiment she was going to pretend was a failed attempt at kimchi.
She would probably be satisfied with eggs and the almost-unusable half of an avocado, at least if it was for herself. But then she caught sight of a box of pancake mix and unopened protein powder — she grinned deviously, quickly grabbing the necessary ingredients.
Twenty minutes later, she was swearing under her breath, the scent of burning batter clogging her throat. That was three, why was this so godsforsaken difficult?!
She pinched the bridge of her nose, looking over with a frown at the quickly dwindling bowl of disappointment she was trying to turn into something edible. She growled in frustration then with a determined stomp, grabbed the bowl and teetered over the electric griddle she had found behind last semester’s halloween candy.
Sudden warmth enveloped her and she couldn’t control the undignified squeak that followed the feeling of palms sliding across her hips to flatten against her stomach. His five-o-clock shadow itched against her neck as he nuzzled into her — but didn’t feel unpleasant. She didn’t examine that.
He had to ruin his posture to bend like that, she knew it, but she couldn’t find it in her to lecture him this time.
His purr tickled, the low rasp of having just woken up sending certain little tingles down her spine and between her thighs, “Smells…well, I’d lie and say good, but what the fuck is my gymrat making? Hockey pucks?”
She stepped on his toes with a scowl that sent him stumbling back, cursing, “Shut up, I was trying to make us both breakfast, since you always complain what I eat is for health junkies or sorority sisters that hate living.”
He laughed, offense forgotten in incredulousness, “You? Actually cooking? Not just steaming something and turning your nose up at god-for-fuckin’-bid sodium and MSG goodness?”
She felt warmth in her cheeks that betrayed her, huffing out a breath of annoyance without confirming his suspicion. His earth brown eyes swept over the kitchen, and his expression became something almost vaguely soft if she didn’t know better.
“Alright, my bad, don’t fucking rip me a new one — I like my old ones ‘tits. How’s about you move over then, yeah?”
She narrowed her eyes at him but obeyed the request with much trepidation. Usually his requests meant sex, and her stomach made an uncomfortably loud noise as if to remind her why she had started on this endeavor to begin with. She had honestly expected him to laugh his ass off at her miserable attempts. Make some quip that would send her storming out again, swearing to herself that this was the last time, this time.
Instead of the usual consequences, he gently removed the bowl from her hands and started shuffling back and forth. It was a tight squeeze, but he maneuvered around and through her space without needing to do more than a quick tap on her hip or shoulder. He spoke with a focused, yet calm tone, pointing at the eggs, “Hand me those, dangertits.”
It wasn’t fair that his crass nickname for her sent her heart into a gymnastics routine. She wordlessly followed his directions from there, coaxed into making a batter that was smooth and thin enough to puddle, rather than glop into concrete on the hot griddle.
His fingers brushed her wrist, sending a tiny little shiver up her arm, but then he was helping her flip the pancake over — perfectly golden, slightly fluffy, way better than they had any right to be with her involved.
She couldn’t help the smile that crept across her face, drawing an amused chuckle from him as he noticed her giddy surprise.
“Careful, you might be Batman’s favorite toy with that look ‘tits.”
She blinked in confusion. He frowned, “The Joker? Joaquin Phoenix, the stairs, Dark Knight, Christopher Nolan? No? What the fuck rock have you been living under bitch, we gotta get you cultured already, fuck.”
She protested but then he shoved a bite between her lips with a smirk and a raised eyebrow. “Alright. Swallow. Didn’t think I needed to remind you of that…”
She rolled her eyes then shut them, chewing slowly to savor the flavor. It was far more delicious than it had any right to be, especially for how honestly little time it took to make. She had convinced herself anything this unhealthy had to take more effort than you could ever get back — food was fuel to her, and you might as well cut the inefficiency and waste of it all.
But somehow, she was enjoying pancakes. Soaked in butter, sure, but she was surprised at the utter lack of desire for syrup or anything other than this wonderfully soft breadlike breakfast food that she had managed to avoid for years.
She couldn’t have told you what pancakes tasted like really before this, it’d been too long.
When she opened her eyes, Adam had this strange, gentle hunger behind the burnt embers of his eyes. She didn’t know how to respond, taking a step back on instinct.
He followed, drawn to her by the same instinct it seemed, hands finding themselves on her hips again. “Fuck, you have no idea how ridiculously hot you looked like that.”
”Like…what…? Huh?”
”You really have no clue…shit, you looked like you’d died and gone to heaven. Didn’t think I could get a girl that close to cumming without touching her,” he teased, voice rough in that way that had her knees going weak. She swallowed and his eyes immediately focused on the way her throat bobbed — huh, seemed she’d stumbled into a thing of his.
”Y-yeah, well, I was hungry,” she answered lamely, unable to come up with an answering quip with the way his hips slid between her thighs and slotted his rapidly growing hard-on dangerously close to where she was suddenly throbbing.
“Don’t worry babe, I can fix that. Whatever kinda hunger you got, I promise, I can one hundred and ten percent fuckin’ fix it. I’m the original man here and don’t you dare fucking forget it,” he growled, backing her against the counter until she was forced to push back her ass to sit on the laminate top, legs unconsciously wrapping around his waist in response.
”What if it’s a problem you can’t fix?” She couldn’t help the doubtful whisper that left her.
”Don’t even fuckin’ suggest it doll. I’d do anything, find anything, tear anything apart for you babe,” he snapped, sliding a hand up into her hair and slamming her head back against the cabinet hard enough to have her seeing stars. She groaned in pain and pleasure, breath catching in her throat as his teeth found her neck.
She wasn’t going to let him ruin her alone — her own hands pushing at her waistband, kicking off her shorts with an impatience only rivaled by his own. He sucked hard on the fresh mark blooming on her alabaster skin, making her moans stutter and skip like his new favorite record. Her fingernails found his thick forearms, casting through the hair there with approval only to rip stripes into his skin as she hissed in pleasure when his fingers shoved between her thighs.
”Fucking fix me then, Adam, I’m starving,” she snarled, a desperate, violent wanting thrumming through her and leaving her shivering.
“That’s my girl,” he smirked, pumping his fingers barely long enough to make her tight cunt stretch just enough to take the head of him — she gasped and her eyes squeezed shut against the feeling of his slow, deliberate entrance beginning to spread her open.
His free hand found her jaw and a low growl forced her to meet his gaze, “Hey, don’t fuckin’ look away from me. Not today.”
This close, she could just about count the freckles dusting over his twice-broken nose. Fine, maybe his dick was the only one she’d had, but she was addicted enough to keep from caring to find out if anyone had anything better.
She didn’t think so.
At this point, her body was made for him, molded to the curve of his cock and flexible enough to wrap around him as he began to move her in a rhythm that had her groaning and whining for more, more of the way it felt like he was breaking her open with every inch forced deeper inside her before she completely ready.
She liked that he was selfish enough to challenge her to adapt, and she was proud of the way she did, bouncing on his cock like she’d been born for that singular purpose.
She couldn’t keep her hands from wandering, sliding across his burly chest and familiarizing her fingers to his scars with a fondness that she indulged in as he let out a guttural groan that had her chasing more.
More, fuck, more. She wanted everything.
He was her first, and she was gonna do her damndest to make sure she was his last.
She jerked forward to sink her teeth in his ear, drawing a surprised, keening whine from between his lips — and the immediate feeling of warmth spilling inside her.
He desperately slammed as deep as he could inside her, forehead beading with sweat as it met hers, his chest heaving. But he didn’t stop there, fingers sliding between them to thumb circles around her swollen clit, the feeling of his cum sliding between his fingers against her most sensitive nub sending her over the edge with a needy, keening cry. She was left shaking, falling forward against him in exhaustion.
A deep chuckle rumbled through his chest and into hers.
“You make a pretty decent Lieutenant in my kitchen. Maybe we might make an average cook of you yet dangertits.”
She laughed, a breathless huff, “And you definitely enjoy pain as much as I do, Sir.”
He grinned, grinding his cock inside her to accentuate his point, “Yeah, well, maybe I like knowing a woman who could merc me is fuckin’ addicted to my amazing dick and fantastic food.”
She smacked his arm and glared at his ridiculous self-satisfied expression.
“Aw, Dad, really? Can’t you please learn to lock your door — “ Her heart dropped at the eerily familiar whine, but Adam shifted enough to hide her from view, grabbing a pancake and throwing it at the intruder, only for the poor thing to slap against the wall and slide to the floor in defeat.
”Shut your cuck ass up, did nobody ever teach you to fuckin’ knock — “
“I’m going, alright, your laundry was left at the laundromat again —“
”I’m fuckin’ busy — “
”Yeah, screwing your undergrads again, I know, c’mon, at least remember — “
”Alright, alright, will you fucking leave already if I get your damn groceries this week? Yeah?”
The silence spoke volumes, until she heard the quiet shutting of the front door.
She waited a long moment before letting her eyes drop away from his face to study his chest. Blood rushed between her ears and she couldn’t stop herself from speaking in a dead monotone, “So, you have a lot of your students after office hours then? Is that why I only see you, what, once every six weeks? That’s my rotation?”
”Hey, woah. Don’t get things twisted just cuz — “
”What’s there to twist? Don’t think you even remember my name, so — “
”Lute. I don’t let undergrads stay the night and fucking burn shitty protein pucks, nearly setting off the godsdamned smoke alarm, you’re…fuck, you’re different, alright? We don’t gotta fuckin’ label it, I know you hate labels — “
Her words died in her throat at the reminder of the first time, the sheer terror she felt at trying to identify whatever the fuck she felt around him.
The fact he remembered had her tugging at the small, golden cross chain at his neck. He stopped rambling, silent as he followed her lead this time.
She gave him a tired, lopsided smile, “Fine. I’ll be your Lieutenant — your only Lieutenant though, okay?”
He dropped his fingers from where he had been anxiously carding them through his hair. He breathed a sigh of relief, grinning, “Yeah, okay, nobody but you gets to even see this kitchen.”
It was stupid how much that made her heart race. She definitely needed to do some self-reflecting when she got back to her place. But for now, there were pancakes to finish, and his stomach growled a warning loud enough to wake an entire dorm.
Maybe she stole another bite of his pancakes though, just to be fair.