Archive of Our Own

Aeri has a problem.

Well, technically she has several problems, each one stacking on top of the other like a precarious tower of personal inadequacies that threatens to topple at any moment.

She's the nerdy girl who always sits in the front row of every class. Not because she's a teacher's pet, but because her eyesight is horrendous and she refuses to admit she needs a stronger prescription.

She raises her hand too enthusiastically when she knows the answer, her whole body practically vibrating with the need to share whatever historical fact or literary analysis she's just connected in her mind.

She gets genuinely, embarrassingly excited about obscure historical events. It's the kind of excitement that makes her talk too fast, her hands gesture wildly, her face lighting up in a way that makes other students exchange looks that clearly say "wow, she's really into this, huh?"

She has exactly two friends who are equally as uncool as her—Minjeong, who spends all her free time in the computer lab debugging code that nobody else understands, and Minji, who brings her own lunch in plastic containers and unironically wears cardigans with elbow patches.

They eat lunch together in the corner of the dining hall, discuss their various academic interests with genuine enthusiasm, and have collectively attended zero parties in their three years of college.

But her main problem, the one that keeps her up at night in cold sweat mortification, the one that makes her avoid any kind of physical intimacy despite being twenty one years old and theoretically at the peak of her sexual life, is that she has absolutely zero control when it comes to her dick.

She's a premature ejaculator. Pathetically, devastatingly, embarrassingly fast.

It's not something she discovered recently, unfortunately. She's known since she was seventeen, since that first fumbling encounter in her high school girlfriend's basement when she'd come approximately forty-five seconds after they'd started touching.

Her girlfriend had been sweet about it—"it's okay, it happens, we can try again"—but Aeri had been so mortified she'd broken up with her the next day, claiming they wanted different things out of life. In reality, she just couldn't face the humiliation of having her dysfunction exposed again.

Since then, she's had exactly three sexual encounters, all of them equally disastrous.

There was a college freshman who'd tried to hook up with her at orientation week and had laughed—actually laughed—when Aeri had come before they'd even removed all their clothes. Then the girl from her biology study group who'd seemed interested, who'd invited Aeri back to her dorm, and who'd looked so disappointed when the whole thing was over in less than two minutes that Aeri had wanted to disappear into the floor.

The most recent attempt, just six months ago, with a woman she'd met at a bookstore who'd seemed perfect. She was smart, cute and interested in the same authors. But she had politely but firmly suggested they "just be friends" after Aeri had once again proven she had the sexual staying power of a teenager with a fastforward button.

Sometimes just thinking about something too intensely is enough to get her worked up. A particularly steamy scene in a novel she's reading for her literature class, a passing attractive woman in tight jeans. Sometimes—and this is the most mortifying part—just the anxiety of worrying about getting worked up is enough to actually get her worked up, creating a vicious feedback loop of shame and arousal that Aeri has no idea how to break.

Once she's worked up, it's over in minutes. Sometimes seconds.

She's timed herself in the privacy of her dorm room (not that she wanted to, but after the third disastrous encounter she needed to know exactly how bad it was). On average, from first touch to completion: ninety-three seconds.

On a good day, if she's really, really focused on thinking about something completely unsexy like tax code or her late great-grandmother's funeral, maybe two and a half minutes.

It's humiliating.

It's why she's never actually tried to seriously date anyone, why she avoids parties where people might drink and get handsy, why she wears the baggiest clothes possible—oversized hoodies that hang past her hips, loose jeans that hide her body's shape, layers upon layers designed to conceal any evidence of her problem.

Which is frequent, because her traitorous body seems to think absolutely everything is sexual stimulus. It's exhausting, living in constant fear of your own body's responses.

And then there's Ning.

Ning Yizhuo, who goes by Ning because she says it 'sounds more interesting than Ningning and certainly more interesting than her full name'.
Ning, who is everything Aeri is not—popular in that effortless way that doesn't require trying, confident to the point of bordering on arrogant, effortlessly beautiful in that way that makes everyone either want to be her or be with her or both simultaneously.

Aeri has been peripherally aware of Ning since freshman year. It'd be hard to to notice her, Ning's impossible to ignore, existing in a completely different sphere, but is still definitely not something you should stare at directly for too long.

She's always has people around her, always seems to be at the center of every social gathering, always looks like she just walked out of a fashion magazine spread even when she's supposedly just rolling out of bed for an 8 AM class.

Ning's got one of the loudest laughs that you can hear from halfway across the quad. It's not obnoxious, but full and genuine and infectious that it makes people want to laugh along even if they don't know what's funny. She has a complete lack of shame about absolutely everything; from the outrageous outfits she wears to the bold opinions she'll voice in class to the way she'll dance on tables at parties just because the song makes her feel like dancing.

Ning is also experimental with everything.

Her fashion sense changes weekly—no, daily. One day she's wearing vintage band tees and ripped jeans, the next she's in a dress that looks like it came from a 1950s catalogue, the next she's layered up in streetwear that probably costs more than Aeri's tuition.

Her hair color changes almost as frequently. It's been blonde, brown with red undertones, purple, and currently it's this sort of honey brown color that catches the light and makes Aeri forget how to form complete sentences when she catches sight of it.

Pathetic, she knows.

Ning experiments with her pursuits too. Last semester she was really into pottery, spending hours in the art building covered in clay. This semester it's apparently photography, because Aeri keeps seeing her around campus with an expensive looking camera, stopping to take pictures of random things like a fire escape or someone's coffee cup.

Her makeup is experimental too, sometimes barely there, sometimes dramatic with sharp eyeliner that could probably cut glass, sometimes glittery and cutesy in a way that shouldn't work on an adult but somehow does on Ning.

Ning loves discovering new things: new music, new art, new experiences, new people. She approaches life like it's all one big fascinating experiment and she's determined to try every variable.

And apparently, Aeri is her newest discovery.

Ning, who for reasons Aeri absolutely cannot understand and didn't ask for and definitely doesn't want (she tells herself firmly), has decided that Aeri is her new favorite source of entertainment.

It started three weeks ago in the library.

Aeri was studying, genuinely studying, not pretending to study while actually scrolling through social media like most of the students scattered around the second floor. She had her laptop open to a document covered in color coded notes, three different textbooks spread across the large table she'd claimed by arriving at 7 AM, and she was deep into a chapter about the socioeconomic factors that led to the French Revolution.

She had her good pens out and she was in the focused state where the rest of the world kind of fades away and it's just her and the material and the satisfying feeling of information clicking into place in her mind.

She didn't notice Ning's approach. She didn't hear the confident footsteps, or sense someone sliding into the chair directly across from her at the table. She only looked up when Ning's designer bag hit the wooden surface with a loud thud that echoed in the quiet space, making several other students look up in annoyance.

Aeri blinked, her train of thought completely derailed, and found herself staring at Ning.

Ning, in all her glory, was wearing a cropped sweater that showed a strip of toned stomach when she moved, high waisted jeans that somehow looked both casual and incredibly expensive, and had her honey brown hair pulled into a high ponytail that emphasized her sharp jawline and pretty features.

She had minimal makeup on today, just some mascara and lip gloss that made her mouth look even more distracting than usual. She was looking at Aeri with clear interest, a small smile playing at the corners of her glossed lips.

"Hey, nerd," Ning said, her voice pitched at exactly the wrong volume for a library, not quite loud enough to get shushed, but definitely loud enough to be heard. Her tone was friendly, teasing, like they were friends who did this all the time, like this was a normal interaction.

Aeri's brain took a full five seconds to reboot. "Um. Hi?" She could feel her face starting to heat up already, and Ning had literally just said two words to her. This was going to be a disaster.

"What are you studying? Looks hard."

Ning leaned forward, elbows on the table, chin propped on her interlaced fingers.

The position made her cropped sweater ride up slightly, revealing more stomach, and Aeri absolutely did not look. She absolutely did not notice the way Ning's jeans emphasized the curve of her hips, or the way her ponytail swung slightly when she tilted her head, or the way the library lighting made her skin look incredibly smooth and touchable.

Aeri's face, which had been warming, now felt like it was on fire.

"European-European history. It's actually really interesting if you—" She launched into an explanation, her enthusiasm for the subject temporarily overriding her confusion and nervousness. "—if you look at the bread prices in Paris in the decade leading up to the revolution, you can see this clear pattern of scarcity that correlates directly with—"

"Of course you think it's interesting. You think everything academic is interesting." Ning's tone wasn't quite mocking, but there was definite amusement there. She was studying Aeri like Aeri was a particularly fascinating specimen under a microscope. "Do you ever do anything fun? Or is it all studying all the time?"

"I have fun!" Aeri's voice came out more defensive than she intended, and several nearby students glanced over with annoyed expressions. She lowered her voice. "I have fun. I read for pleasure. I watch documentaries. I have coffee with my friends!"

Ning deadpans, her expression perfectly flat. "Reading doesn't count."

"Why not? Reading is fun. Reading is—" Aeri caught herself before she could launch into a defense of reading as a leisure activity, suddenly realizing that she was arguing about her hobbies with someone who'd never shown any interest in her before today. "Wait. Why are you talking to me?"

The question came out more blunt than she intended, but Aeri genuinely needed to know. Ning had never spoken to her before.

They'd been in the same sociology class last semester and Ning had sat three rows behind her and never once acknowledged Aeri's existence. They'd passed each other on the quad dozens of times and Ning had never even made eye contact. And now suddenly Ning was here, in the library, at Aeri's table, talking to her like this was a normal thing they did.

"Because I'm bored," Ning sighed dramatically, like this was a perfectly reasonable explanation. "And you're interesting. In a nerdy, uptight kind of way." Her smile was strangely sweet.

Then she leaned in closer, close enough that Aeri could smell her perfume—something expensive and floral that probably had a French name Aeri couldn't pronounce.

Her voice dropped to a whisper, quiet enough that the annoyed students nearby wouldn't hear, but clear enough that every word hit Aeri like a physical blow.
"Plus I heard something about you. A rumor."

Aeri's blood went cold. Her hands, which had been holding her pen, went completely numb. Her heart started beating faster, and she felt an awful spike of anxiety and dread flare up within her body. "...What rumor?"

"That you have a problem. An interesting problem." Ning's eyes gleamed with mischief and something else that Aeri couldn't identify but that made her stomach flip. "Is it true? Do you really cum in like thirty seconds?"

The library suddenly felt too small, too bright, too public.

Aeri could hear everything with crystal clarity—a student typing on a laptop nearby, a group whispering about their weekend plans two tables over, the HVAC system humming, the librarian's cart squeaking as she pushed it between stacks. Any of them could hear this conversation. Any of them could be listening right now, hearing Ning casually discuss Aeri's most humiliating secret like it was interesting gossip.

Aeri's face went nuclear.

She could feel the heat spreading from her cheeks down her neck, blotchy redness she got when she was embarrassed, making her pale skin look mottled and obvious. Her voice came out in a rushed whisper, desperate and defensive. "I don't—who told you—that's not—"

"So it is true. Oh my god, that's amazing." Ning's grin widened, genuine delight spreading across her features. Ning leaned in even closer, their noses almost coming into contact with one another. "That's actually adorable in the most pathetic way."

"It's not adorable," Aeri hissed, finally finding her voice, though it came out strangled. "It's not—this isn't-that's not even true!"

At this point, Aeri is mainly just trying to figure out how this information even got out in the first place. It's not like she told anyone?

"How fast are we talking?" Ning continued like Aeri hadn't spoken, still whispering but with clear interest evident in her tone. "Like, actually thirty seconds? A minute? Do you even make it to a minute?"

"This conversation is inappropriate—!" Aeri was already starting to gather her things with shaking hands, shoving books into her bag without any care for the careful
organization she'd arrived with. She needed to leave. Needed to get out of here before this got worse, before anyone else heard, before—

"You didn't answer the question."

"I'm not going to answer the question. Leave me alone." Aeri tried to focus on packing her bag, on getting out of here with some shred of dignity intact, but her hands were shaking so badly she dropped her pen. It rolled across the table and Ning caught it with a shit-eating grin, holding it hostage between her manicured fingers.

And that's when Aeri realized with creeping, horrifying awareness that she was responding physically to this conversation. The humiliation, the public setting, Ning's proximity, the cruelty in her voice. All of it was combining into exactly the kind of stimulus that her body interpreted as sexual.

She could feel herself getting hard, her cock starting to press against her jeans despite her desperate attempts to think about anything else. Tax code. Her grandmother's knitting club. The French Revolution bread prices she'd literally just been reading about.

Nothing worked. Her body had decided this was happening regardless of what her brain wanted.

Ning noticed. Of course she noticed. Ning seemed to notice everything, her eyes tracking down Aeri's body with fox-like interest, landing on Aeri's lap where her oversized hoodie couldn't quite hide the growing evidence of her problem.

"Oh my god, are you getting hard right now?" Ning's voice was still a whisper, but there was genuine surprise mixed with the amusement now. "Just from me talking about it? That's—wow. That's actually worse than I thought."

"Shut up!" Aeri's voice came out strangled, humiliated.

"No, no, this is fascinating." Ning was leaning even further forward now, like she wanted to observe this phenomenon up close. "So just mentioning it gets you going? What happens if I..."

Ning's foot appeared under the table, sliding along the inside of Aeri's leg slowly. The touch was light, almost not even there, just Ning's sneaker pressing against Aeri's jeans, but it felt like an electric shock. The pressure climbed from Aeri's ankle to her calf, slow and purposeful, then up to her knee, and Aeri couldn't move, couldn't breathe, couldn't think about anything except the feeling of Ning touching her.

"What happens if I actually touch you?" Ning finished, her smile widening as she watched Aeri's face.

"Don't—" But Aeri's voice was breaking, her breath coming faster. She was absolutely, horrifyingly getting harder, her cock pressing more insistently against the fabric of her jeans that was becoming obvious even through her hoodie. And Ning's foot was still there, still pressing, still climbing higher—

"You're so easy." Ning finally removed her foot, and the loss of contact somehow made it worse, made Aeri more aware of how desperate she'd been for it to continue, how pathetically her body had responded to the smallest touch. "This is going to be fun."

Ning stood, slinging her designer bag over her shoulder with grace. She picked up Aeri's pen from where she'd been holding it hostage and set it down on top of Aeri's textbook. She looked down at Aeri with the same expression she had when she first came in. It looked like she'd just confirmed a hypothesis and was already planning the next experiment.

"See you around, quick shot."

She left, walking away with a confident stride, some people already instinctively moving around her.

Aeri sat there in the library, horrified and unfortunately very hard and knowing with sinking certainty that this was just the beginning, that Ning had found a new game and Aeri was the primary player whether she wanted to be or not.

It took twenty minutes for Aeri to calm down enough to leave the library without obvious evidence of her problem. She spent those twenty minutes staring at her European history textbook, seeing none of the words, thinking about bread prices and economic theory and her grandmother's knitting club and anything that might help.

It didn't work. Ning's words kept replaying on a loop in her mind—"quick shot," "thirty seconds," "you're so easy," "this is going to be fun"—and each replay made it worse, made her more aware of her body's ongoing response.

When she finally made it back to her dorm room, her roommate was out at class. Aeri locked the door, collapsed on her bed fully clothed, and dealt with the problem in under two minutes while hating herself the entire time, Ning's face and voice and words playing on repeat in her mind.

This was going to be a disaster.

She had no idea how right she was.

Ning doesn't just torture Aeri occasionally—she makes it her everyday misson.

Over the next two weeks, Aeri becomes hyperaware of Ning's presence in every single space she occupies, like her body has developed some kind of sixth sense specifically tuned to detect when Ning is nearby. It's exhausting and terrifying and somehow also thrilling in a way that makes Aeri hate herself a little bit more each day.

The library is no longer safe. What used to be Aeri's sanctuary—the one place on campus where she could reliably focus, where she could lose herself in research and notes and the comfortable silence of academic work—has been completely compromised. Ning shows up at least three times a week now, always somehow finding Aeri's usual corner on the second floor despite the library being massive and having dozens of possible study locations.

She always sits just close enough to make Aeri nervous. Not right next to her, because that would be too obvious, too aggressive.
Instead, Ning settles at the same table but across from her, or at the table directly adjacent, or in the armchair that's positioned at an angle where Aeri can see her in her peripheral vision if she looks up from her textbook.

She's always close enough that Aeri can smell her perfume. Close enough that when Ning shifts in her seat or stretches or reaches for something, Aeri notices. Close enough that Aeri can't possibly concentrate on what she's supposed to be studying.

The coffee shop where Aeri used to escape to actually get work done (a small family run place three blocks from campus that she'd thought was obscure enough to be safe) becomes compromised when Ning discovers it in the second week of her campaign. Aeri doesn't know how Ning found it. Maybe she followed her. Maybe she asked Aeri's friends. Maybe she just has an uncanny sense for places Aeri might hide.

Ning starts showing up there too, always ordering the most complicated drinks on the menu: elaborate lattes with multiple modifications, drinks that require steamed milk and flavour shots and take the barista a full ten minutes to prepare.

Which gives Ning plenty of time to lean against Aeri's small corner table, hand on one hip, looking down at Aeri with an amused smile while her drink is being made.

"Working hard, quick-shot?" Ning will say, her hand landing casually on Aeri's shoulder like they're dating. Her thumb rubs small circles through the thick fabric of Aeri's oversized hoodie with her thumb, the touch light enough to be potentially innocent but consistent enough that Aeri knows it's absolutely not.
"Or hardly working?" She snickers, "It's hard to tell with you."

The wordplay is obviously intentional, and Aeri's face burns every single time, her body responding to the implication. By the third time Ning shows up at the coffee shop, Aeri stops going there entirely, which she's sure is exactly what Ning wanted. Another space conquered. Another refuge eliminated.

The quiet spot behind the science building where Aeri sometimes eats lunch alone, sitting on the grass with her back against the sun warmed bricks, away from the crowded dining hall and the social performance it requires? Ning appears there one afternoon with her own lunch. She settles down on the grass close enough that their knees touch when she crosses her legs, close enough that Aeri can see the way Ning's jeans stretch across her thighs, close enough that every time Ning moves, Aeri is aware of it.

"Found you," Ning says with satisfaction, like Aeri is a prize she's won. "This is a good spot. Quiet. Private. I like it."

Aeri doesn't eat there anymore after that day.

The study room Aeri reserves every Thursday afternoon from 2-5 PM, booking it weeks in advance through the library's online system specifically because it has a door that closes and locks and provides blessed isolation? Ning somehow talks her way in the second Thursday, claiming through the small window in the door that she desperately needs help with a sociology project and saw Aeri in here and would it be okay if she just asked a few questions?

It's not okay.

Aeri knows it's not okay, knows that letting Ning into her reserved study room is a tactical error, but there are other students in the hallway who can see them, and Ning is being loud and friendly and Aeri can't say no without looking like a complete asshole. So she unlocks the door.

Ning comes in with her backpack and her camera and a big smile, and she doesn't leave for the entire three hour reservation. She doesn't actually ask any questions about sociology. She sits across from Aeri at the small table, ostensibly doing her own work but really just... watching. Commenting occasionally on what Aeri's doing. Touching Aeri's hand when she reaches for a pen. Making it completely impossible for Aeri to accomplish anything productive.

Aeri stops reserving the study room after that.

Another space lost.

What makes it worse (or possibly better, Aeri genuinely can't decide anymore) is that Ning's attention isn't entirely cruel. There are moments of sweetness mixed in with the torture, small gestures that would be genuinely kind if they weren't also part of whatever game Ning is playing.

Ning brings Aeri coffee sometimes, showing up at her dorm room door in the morning before Aeri's first class with a to go cup that's already prepared exactly how Aeri likes it; medium drip with just a splash of milk and one sugar.

Aeri has never told Ning her coffee order. She hasn't mentioned it even once.

But somehow Ning knows, and she shows up with coffee at least once a week, handing it over with a smile that could be friendly or could be smug, Aeri can never quite tell which.

"Thought you might need this," Ning says. "You look tired. Late night studying?"

The answer is that yes, Aeri was up late studying, but also that she was up late because she kept thinking about Ning and had to deal with her problem twice before she could finally fall asleep. But Aeri doesn't say that. She just takes the coffee and mumbles thanks and tries not to think about how Ning learned her order.

Ning leaves little notes in Aeri's textbooks too.

Aeri discovers this when she opens her European history textbook one morning to find a small post it note stuck to page 247, right in the middle of a chapter about the Napoleonic Wars. The note has a little doodle of hello kitty with exaggerated glasses that's clearly meant to be Aeri, and underneath it says "good luck on your exam tomorrow! you'll do great!" with a little heart.

It's sweet. It's genuinely sweet and makes Aeri's chest feel tight and confused.

She finds more notes over the following days.

One in her sociology textbook that just says "thinking about you, quick-shot" with a winking face, which is significantly less sweet and makes Aeri blush in the middle of the library where she's reading. One in her notebook that says "you're cute when you concentrate." One tucked into her laptop case that says "see you soon" with an arrow pointing to a time and date that turns out to be exactly when Ning shows up at the coffee shop later that week.

How Ning is getting access to Aeri's belongings remains a mystery. Aeri suspects her roommate might be involved, but she has no proof and frankly she's too overwhelmed to investigate properly.

The physical touching escalates gradually over the two weeks, following what Aeri realizes in retrospect is a careful, calculated progression. It starts with casual contact that could be construed as friendly or accidental, a hand on Aeri's shoulder when greeting her, fingers brushing when passing papers in their sociology class, knees touching under tables in the library because apparently Ning has forgotten what personal space means.

Each touch is brief, fleeting, easily explained away.

Then it becomes more deliberate.

Ning starts finding excuses to get into Aeri's personal space in ways that are harder to dismiss as accidental. She'll lean over Aeri's shoulder to "see what she's reading," pressing close enough that her chest makes contact with Aeri's back, staying there for several long seconds while she makes some comment about the material.

She'll reach across Aeri to grab something, a pen, a textbook, a napkin at the coffee shop, pressing their bodies together in the process and taking her time about it, making sure Aeri feels every inch of contact.

She starts adjusting Aeri's clothes in public places. Straightening her collar in the hallway between classes, fingers lingering on the fabric at Aeri's throat. Brushing invisible lint off Aeri's shoulder, her hand moving slowly down Aeri's arm. Fixing Aeri's hair when it falls across her face, tucking it behind her ear with fingers that trail down Aeri's jaw in the process. Each touch lasts just slightly too long to be casual, just intimate enough to make Aeri hyperaware of exactly where Ning's skin is making contact with hers.

The result of all of this systematic touching is that Aeri exists in a constant state of low level arousal that occasionally, unpredictably spikes into desperate, embarrassing need.

Her body has learned to associate Ning's presence with stimulus, and it responds accordingly whether Aeri wants it to or not. She can be in the middle of reading something completely unsexy, (like an academic article about tax policy or a dense textbook chapter about European trade routes) and if Ning walks by, if Ning touches her, if Ning even just looks at her in that particular way, Aeri's body responds.

She starts wearing exclusively dark jeans because they hide stains better than her usual light blue ones. She's had three incidents where she's come in her pants from Ning's teasing and had to walk back to her dorm with her hoodie tied around her waist to hide the evidence, and she's not willing to risk it happening with pants that will show everything clearly.

She carries her backpack in front of her constantly now when walking around campus, holding it against her stomach as a strategic defense against anyone noticing that she's frequently at least semi hard. Her friends have started making jokes about her defensive backpack carrying technique. Aeri just laughs weakly and doesn't explain.

She learns to excuse herself to the bathroom with increasing frequency, developing a rotation of different bathrooms across campus so she's not always using the same one and risking someone noticing how often she's in there.

She deals with her problem in increasingly undignified ways.

She starts standing in bathroom stalls, one hand pressed over her mouth to stay quiet, the other working frantically to relieve the pressure that Ning has built up in her. She bites her sleeve to muffle sounds. She hunches over so her shadow under the stall door doesn't look obviously like someone doing what she's doing. She hates herself the entire time while Ning's words replay in her mind on a loop.

It's humiliating and exhausting and completely unsustainable, which is why Aeri finally decides after two weeks of this systematic torture that she needs to avoid Ning entirely.

It doesn't work.

"You're avoiding me," Ning observes one day, cornering Aeri after their shared sociology class with a very whiny looking pout.

They're in the hallway outside the lecture room, which is currently full of students flowing around them like water dividing around rocks in a stream. People are talking, laughing, heading to their next classes or to lunch. It's loud and crowded and public, and Ning has positioned herself directly in front of Aeri, one hand on the wall beside Aeri's head, effectively boxing her in against the wall.

Ning is wearing low waisted black jeans today and a cropped lonng sleaved shirt that shows a strip of toned stomach every time she moves. Her brown hair is down, falling in waves past her shoulders, and she has more makeup today: winged eyeliner that makes her eyes look even sharper, lipstick that keeps drawing Aeri's attention to her mouth. She looks unfairly good, and she knows it.

"I'm not avoiding you." It's a blatant lie, one of the most obvious lies Aeri has ever told. Her voice comes out defensive, slightly too high pitched, immediately giving her away.

Ning's eyebrows raise, clearly not buying it for a second. "You're not avoiding me? Really? Because you stopped coming to the library completely. You switched coffee shops. I checked your usual place and you haven't been there in a week. You literally turned around and walked in the opposite direction when you saw me in the quad yesterday afternoon. I watched you do it."

Aeri had thought she'd been subtle about the quad incident. Apparently not.

"I forgot something. Had to go back—"

"You literally turned around midstep, Aeri. Don't lie to me." Ning's other hand finds Aeri's waist, thumb pressing just above the waistband of her jeans. "Did I do something wrong? Did I push too far?"

The question sounds genuine, concerned even, which throws Aeri completely off balance. She'd expected teasing, mockery, maybe some amused commentary on how pathetic Aeri is for running away. But Ning sounds actually worried, like she's concerned she might have genuinely hurt Aeri's feelings or crossed a line that Aeri didn't want crossed.

"No," Aeri says, and it's the truth even though it probably shouldn't be. "You didn't do anything wrong. I just—I need space. This whole thing with you is making me crazy."

"Crazy how?" Ning's thumb starts moving in small circles against Aeri's waist, and Aeri can feel the warmth of it even through her shirt and the thick fabric of her hoodie. "Crazy annoyed? Crazy frustrated? Crazy turned on?"

"All of the above," Aeri sighs, because apparently she's incapable of lying to Ning even when it would literally save her life. Her fists clench at her sides, fighting the competing urges to either push Ning away or pull her closer, to end this or escalate it, to run or to give in completely. "You're constantly touching me. Constantly making comments about my—about my problem. You're showing up everywhere I go. You're making me think about it all the time, which makes it worse, which I'm sure you know because you're doing it deliberately."

"I do know." Ning's thumb continues its slow circles, maddeningly consistent. "That's kind of the point. I like making you think about it. Like making you aware of your body, of how responsive you are, of how you react to me."

"Why?" Aeri's voice breaks on the word, frustration and desperation bleeding through. "Why are you doing this to me? Is it just entertainment? Is this funny to you? Am I just some nerdy girl with a-a problem that you found interesting for a while and you're going to get bored and move on next week?"

"At first? Maybe a little," Ning admits and at least she's honest about it. "You're so serious all the time, so buttoned up, so focused on being the perfect student who follows all the rules and sits in the front row and gets straight A's. And I wanted to see what you looked like flustered. Wanted to see what was under all that control."

Aeri's chest feels tight, tears threatening to spill. "So I was just entertainment."

"No. Listen to the whole thing." Ning's expression shifts to something more serious, more genuine, the playful teasing falling away to reveal something raw underneath. "At first, yes, it was partly entertainment. But now it's different. Now I do it because I like the way you look at me. Like you want me but also kind of hate me for making you want me. Like you can't decide if you want to kiss me or tell me to fuck off and never speak to me again."

"Both," Aeri says hoarsely. "I want to do both. Simultaneously. I want to kiss you and I want to hate you for making me want to kiss you."

"Then do it." Ning leans in closer, and Aeri can smell her perfume—today it's something different than usual, something warmer and spicier, like vanilla and cinnamon. Aeri can see that Ning's pupils are dilated, that she's breathing slightly faster than normal, that this is affecting her too.

"Kiss me. Tell me to fuck off. Make a choice instead of avoiding me and hoping I'll get bored and leave you alone."

Aeri's brain shortcircuits completely. They're in a hallway. There are people around—students heading to class, someone arguing with a friend about weekend plans two groups over, a guy on his phone not paying attention to anything.

Anyone could see them. Anyone could notice Aeri pressed against the wall with Ning boxing her in, could notice the way Ning's hand is on Aeri's waist, could notice the way they're standing close enough that there's no air between their bodies.

And despite all of that, or maybe because of it, or maybe because Aeri is tired of running and tired of pretending she doesn't want this.

Aeri grabs the front of Ning's shirt with both hands and pulls her into a kiss that's more aggression than affection, more desperation than romance.

Ning makes a surprised sound that turns into something pleased, something satisfied, like this is exactly what she wanted. She kisses back with equal intensity, her hand moving from Aeri's waist to her hip, pulling their bodies flush together in a way that leaves no ambiguity about what this is. Her other hand comes down from the wall to cup the back of Aeri's neck, holding her in place, controlling the kiss even as she lets Aeri set the pace.

When they finally break apart, both breathing hard, Ning's smile is triumphant. "There we go. Was that so hard?"

Her hand slides down from Aeri's hip to her ass, squeezing once with deliberate pressure. "Or should I say... are you hard right now?"

Aeri is. Obviously hard, pathetically hard, her cock pressing against her jeans that Ning can definitely feel given how close they're standing, given the way their hips are pressed together. "Yes. Are you happy now?"

"Very." Ning's eyes are bright, satisfied. Her lips brush against Aeri's ear, voice dropping to a whisper that's somehow more intimate than the kiss was. "Want to know what else would make me happy?"

"What?" Aeri's voice comes out strangled.

"Come to my dorm tonight. Room 308. I have something I want to try with you."

"What kind of something?"

"An experiment. A game. A way to help with your problem." Ning pulls back just enough to see Aeri's face, clearly taking in her expression for future reference. "Or don't come. But we both know you will. You're too curious to stay away now. And you want this. You just kissed me in front of half the student body, so don't try to pretend you don't."

She steps back, giving Aeri space to breathe, space to think, space to potentially say no even though they both know Aeri won't. She adjusts her shirt, tucking her hair behind her ear, and transforms back into just another student in the hallway in seconds. "308. Eight PM. Don't be late."

She leaves, walking away with that confident stride, and Aeri stands against the wall for a full minute trying to remember how breathing works.
Several students definitely saw that kiss. Several students are probably going to tell other students. By tomorrow, there will be rumors. Aeri should care about this. Should worry about her reputation, about being seen as the type of person who makes out in public hallways.

But all she can think about is Ning's lips, Ning's hands, Ning's voice saying "come to my dorm tonight."

She tries to think rationally about whether going to Ning's dorm is a good idea or the worst decision she could possibly make. She tries to list pros and cons. She tries to be smart about this.

She goes anyway.

Ning's dorm room is exactly what Aeri expected.

The door has Ning's name on it alongside her roommate's, written in different handwriting styles. When Ning opens it at quarter past 8—Aeri had arrived at 8:13 and spent two minutes in the hallway trying to calm her racing heart before knocking—the contrast between the two sides of the room is immediately, strikingly obvious.

The left side is clearly Ning's roommate's territory. It's neat, normal, the kind of dorm room you'd see in a college brochure. The bed is made with a plain blue comforter, there's a corkboard with photos arranged in perfect rows, a desk with organized supplies in matching containers. Textbooks are stacked neatly by size. Everything has a place and everything is in its place.

Ning's side looks like an art supply store exploded, had a wild party, and then decided to just stay that way permanently.

There are canvases everywhere, some finished, some half done, some that are just blank primed surfaces leaning against the wall waiting for inspiration to strike.

The finished ones are actually impressive—abstract pieces with bold colors, realistic portraits, one large canvas that appears to be entirely composed of different shades of blue blending into each other. Paint supplies are scattered across every available surface: tubes of acrylic and oil paint in every color imaginable, brushes in various sizes sticking out of old coffee mugs, palettes with dried paint creating abstract art of their own. There's an easel set up in the corner with a work-in-progress that Aeri can't quite make out from the doorway.

There's a massive speaker system set up on a shelf—the type of speaker that's definitely violated noise regulations at some point, probably multiple times. Aeri can see several noise complaint notices stuck to Ning's bulletin board like they're badges of honor. Photography equipment is mixed in with everything else: Ning's expensive camera sitting on her desk, various lenses in a bag, a ring light that's currently off, printed photos pinned to the walls showing random campus scenes that Ning has apparently found interesting enough to capture.

The room smells like paint and vanilla and that expensive perfume Ning wears, all mixed together into something that's distinctly, recognizably Ning.

Ning herself is sitting on her bed when Aeri enters, having clearly been waiting. She's wearing grey sweatpants that sit low on her hips and a black tank top that shows off her arms and collarbones, and her hair is pulled up into a messy bun secured with what looks like a paintbrush because apparently Ning doesn't believe in using actual hair accessories.

She looks comfortable, relaxed, completely at ease in her space in a way that makes Aeri feel even more nervous and out of place.

She's also somehow even more beautiful like this, casual and undone, than she is when she's dressed up and performing for the campus. There's no makeup on her face, and Aeri can see a small scar on her jaw that's usually covered, can see that she has a tiny mole near her ear that Aeri has never noticed before. She looks real in a way that makes Aeri's chest feel tight.

"You came," Ning smiles, setting aside a sketchbook that had been resting on her lap. Aeri catches a glimpse of what looks like a drawing of hands before Ning closes it.

"I'm going to regret this, arent I?" Aeri says, more to herself than anyone, hovering in the doorway, one hand still on the doorknob like she might bolt at any second. Her backpack is clutched in front of her like a shield, and she's acutely aware that she's still wearing the same clothes from class—baggy jeans and an oversized hoodie that's developed several holes at the cuffs from nervous picking.

Ning stands, stretching in a way that makes her tank top ride up slightly, revealing a strip of toned stomach and the curve of her hips where they meet the waistband of her sweatpants. "Close the door."

Aeri closes the door, and the soft click of the lock engaging feels significant, final, like she's just made a choice she can't take back. The room suddenly feels smaller, more intimate, and Aeri is hyperaware of the fact that they're alone together in a locked room with a bed, and that Ning looks at her like she's something fascinating and desirable, and that Aeri's body is already starting to respond to the situation in predictable, embarrassing ways.

Ning pats the bed beside her in invitation. "Sit. Let me explain what I'm thinking."

Aeri sits on the very edge of the bed, maintaining maximum distance, her backpack still clutched defensively. Ning's bed is unmade—the comforter is twisted, there are several pillows in a haphazard pile, and it smells like Ning's perfume. Aeri tries not to think about the fact that this is where Ning sleeps, where Ning has probably done other things, where they're about to do... whatever they're about to do.

Ning immediately slides closer with practiced ease, eliminating the careful distance Aeri had maintained. Their thighs press together, and Aeri can feel the warmth of Ning's body even through layers of fabric.

"So. Your problem." Ning's hand lands on Aeri's knee, casual and warm, and Aeri nearly jumps at the contact. "I've been thinking about it a lot. About what causes it, what makes it worse, what might help."

"You've been thinking about my sexual dysfunction?" Aeri's face burns, and she focuses on the paint splattered floor rather than looking at Ning. "That's—I don't know what that is. Weird? Concerning? Extremely presumptuous?"

"That's me being interested in you. In understanding how you work. In maybe helping if I can." Ning's thumb starts rubbing small circles on Aeri's knee, and Aeri can feel the warmth of it through her jeans, can feel each individual circle like it's being traced directly onto her skin. "I have a theory. Wanna hear it?"

"Do I have a choice?" Aeri's voice comes out more breathless than she intended.

"Not really." Ning's smile is small, amused. "My theory is that you come fast because you're always anxious about coming fast, which creates a feedback loop. The more you worry about disappointing someone or embarrassing yourself, the faster it happens. The faster it happens, the more you worry about the next time. It's psychological as much as it is physical. Your body has learned to associate sex with anxiety and shame, so it tries to get it over with as quickly as possible."

Aeri has never thought about it like that before, but as soon as Ning says it, it clicks into place with uncomfortable accuracy. "Okay. So?"

"So we break the cycle." Ning's hand slides higher, moving from Aeri's knee to mid-thigh, and Aeri's breath catches audibly. "We practice in a situation where coming fast doesn't matter. Where it's expected. Where there's no pressure to perform or last a certain amount of time. Where you can relax and gradually build up tolerance without the anxiety component."

"You want to... practice with me?" Aeri's voice comes out strangled, her brain trying to process what Ning is suggesting.

"I want to help you. And yes, that involves practice. Controlled exposure. Desensitization."

Ning's eyes are bright with interest, that same look she gets when she's working on a painting or photography project, that focused attention that makes whatever she's looking at feel like the most important thing in the world

"Also, I think watching you come is going to be really hot and I want to see it. A lot. So it's mutually beneficial—you get help with your problem, and I get to see something I find extremely attractive. Win-win."

"This is insane," Aeri manages, but she's not moving away, not telling Ning to stop, not even trying to pretend she doesn't want this.

"Yes. But you're still here. Which means part of you is interested." Ning's hand moves higher still, fingers now pressing against the inseam of Aeri's jeans, close enough that Aeri can feel the heat of her palm even through the thick denim. Close enough to make Aeri's breath come faster, to make her cock start to harden in anticipation. "So what do you say? Want to try my experiment?"

"Yes," she hears herself say, the word coming out quiet but certain. "Okay. Yes."

"Excellent." Ning's smile is genuinely pleased, not mocking or cruel, just satisfied that Aeri agreed. "First rule: you have to be honest with me. Tell me what you're feeling—physically, emotionally, all of it. If something's too much, too fast, not working, if you need me to stop or slow down. Communication is important. This doesn't work if you're not honest."

"Okay." Aeri nods, her throat tight.

"Second rule: we're doing this to help you, not to humiliate you. I know I've been kind of terrible about the teasing. With the public comments, the touching, calling you 'quick-shot' in front of people. But this is different. This is me actually trying to make things better for you, not just entertaining myself at your expense." Ning's hand comes up to cup Aeri's face gently, turning her head so they're making eye contact. "If I cross a line, if something doesn't feel right, tell me. Can you promise me that?"

"I promise." Aeri's voice is barely a whisper, her dick growing at super speed.

"Good." Ning's hand returns to Aeri's thigh, moving with more purpose now, no longer pretending to be casual. "Now—let's start with a baseline. I want to see exactly how fast you are with minimal stimulation. No buildup, no teasing, just direct contact from the start. That way we know what we're working with, and we can track improvement over time."

"You're actually going to time me—" Aeri's voice breaks as Ning's hand reaches the bulge that's already forming in her jeans, pressing down with firm, deliberate pressure that makes Aeri's hips jerk up involuntarily.

"I need data to track improvement. Don't worry, I won't make a spreadsheet." Ning's tone is teasing. "Though I am absolutely keeping notes. Now—" Her fingers move to Aeri's belt, and the sound of metal on metal as she undoes the buckle is impossibly loud in the quiet room. "Lift your hips."

Aeri lifts her hips on autopilot, her brain having gone offline the moment Ning started undoing her belt. Ning removes her jeans and underwear in one smooth, efficient motion, clearly experienced with removing someone else's clothes. Aeri's cock springs free, already half-hard from anticipation and anxiety and the past two weeks of constant low level arousal that Ning has maintained in her.

Aeri immediately wants to cover herself, to hide the evidence of how easily and pathetically her body responds. Her hands move to do exactly that, but Ning catches them, pulling them away gently but firmly.

"Don't." Ning's voice is soft but commanding. "Let me look at you. You're beautiful, you know that?"

"I'm not—" Aeri's face is burning, her whole body feels like it's on fire with embarrassment and arousal.

"Shut up. You are." Ning's fingers trail up Aeri's inner thigh with deliberate slowness, not quite touching where Aeri desperately needs her to, just teasing along the sensitive skin. "You have a beautiful body. Strong thighs, nice muscle tone here—" Her fingers trace along Aeri's leg. "And your cock is perfect. Good size, nice shape. Don't argue with me about this."

Aeri makes a strangled sound that might be protest or agreement, she genuinely can't tell.

"Now," Ning continues, her hand still trailing teasingly along Aeri's inner thigh, "I'm going to touch you and I want you to last as long as you can. Don't try to hold back when you're close, don't try to be impressive or prove anything. Just let it happen naturally. I need to see your actual baseline, not what you think you should be able to do. Understand?"

"Yes." Aeri's voice is barely audible.

"Good girl." The praise does something to Aeri's brain chemistry, makes her cock twitch with interest even though she's never been called that before and didn't know it was something she'd respond to. Ning's hand finally wraps around Aeri's cock, and the first touch is electric, overwhelming, so much sensation all at once that Aeri's hips jerk up involuntarily, seeking more contact even as her brain is screaming that this is too much, too fast.

"Very responsive," Ning observes, her voice taking on that analytical quality like she's conducting an actual scientific experiment. "That's good. That means you're capable of a lot of pleasure, your body just doesn't know how to regulate it yet. Let's see how long you can go."

Ning starts stroking her with steady, firm pressure, her hand moving in a rhythm that's neither too fast nor too slow, just consistent and deliberate. Her grip is confident, practiced, like she knows exactly what she's doing. Which she probably does, Aeri thinks distantly. Ning has definitely done this before. Has probably done this with multiple people. Is probably comparing Aeri to those people right now and finding her pathetic.

"Stop thinking," Ning says, clearly reading something in Aeri's expression. "I can see you spiraling. Stop worrying about whether you're doing this right or what I'm thinking. Just focus on how it feels."

Aeri tries. She tries to focus on the sensation instead of the anxiety—the warmth of Ning's hand, the slide of skin on skin, the building pressure low in her stomach. But it's hard when she's hyperaware of everything: the sound of her own breathing getting faster, the small sounds escaping her throat without permission, the way her hips are moving in time with Ning's strokes even though she's trying to stay still and maintain some dignity.

She tries to distract herself, tries to think about something else. The French Revolution. Tax code. The poster on Ning's wall that shows some abstract art she doesn't understand. The way the ceiling has a water stain in the corner that looks vaguely like a face.

It doesn't work. All she can feel is Ning's hand, all she can think about is that Ning is touching her, that this is actually happening, that Ning is seeing her like this—desperate and needy and completely out of control.

"You're already close, aren't you?" Ning observes, and Aeri realizes with mortification that her breathing has gone ragged, that she's making small sounds with each exhale, that her hips are moving more frantically now, chasing the sensation. "I can tell. Your breathing changed. Your muscles are tensing. The way you're moving—you're very close. That's okay. Let it happen. Come whenever you need to."

"I'm sorry—" Aeri gasps out, because she's absolutely about to come and they've barely been doing this for two minutes and that's pathetic, that's so embarrassingly fast.

"Don't apologize. This is baseline data. I need to see where we're starting from." Ning's hand maintains that steady rhythm, not speeding up or slowing down, just consistent stimulation that Aeri has no defense against. "Just let go. Come for me."

It takes less than two minutes total. One minute and forty-eight seconds, Aeri will learn later when Ning tells her the time. She comes with a gasp that she tries to muffle against her shoulder, spilling over Ning's hand in several strong pulses, making an absolute mess. The orgasm is intense—maybe because of the two weeks of buildup, maybe because it's Ning touching her, maybe because she's been living in a state of constant arousal and hasn't let herself have relief because she was too busy avoiding Ning.

Ning doesn't stop immediately. She keeps stroking through the orgasm, drawing it out, making it last longer than Aeri's orgasms usually do. When Aeri finally becomes too sensitive to continue, when she's making small whimpering sounds and trying to pull away from the oversensitivity, Ning releases her and reaches for a box of tissues on her nightstand.

"One minute forty-eight seconds," Ning announces, cleaning her hand methodically. "That's actually not as bad as the rumors suggested. I heard thirty seconds. This is more than three times that."

"Not as bad?" Aeri can't believe what she's hearing. "I just came in under two minutes from a handjob—"

"Which means we have lots of room to improve. That's exciting." Ning's smile is genuine, encouraging, not mocking at all. "And look—" She gestures to where Aeri's cock is already starting to show interest again despite having literally just come. "You're already responding again. Fast recovery time. That's actually really impressive in a different way. Most people need at least ten minutes between orgasms."

Aeri looks down at herself and realizes with mortification that Ning is right. Despite having just come embarrassingly fast, her body is already responding to Ning's presence, to the situation, to the knowledge that they're not done yet. "I can't help it. My body just—"

"I know. And it's good. It means we can do multiple rounds in one session, which will help with building up your tolerance faster." Ning shifts on the bed, moving to sit cross legged facing Aeri, apparently completely comfortable discussing this clinically despite the fact that Aeri is sitting here with her pants off and cum cooling on her stomach. "Want to go again? See if the second time takes longer?"

"Now?" Aeri's voice comes out strangled.

"Unless you need a break? I can wait five minutes if you need recovery time. Or we can be done for tonight if this is too much." Ning's expression is open, genuine. "This only works if you actually want to do it."

"No, I'm—" Aeri swallows hard, trying to find her voice. "I'm good. Let's go again."

"Perfect." Ning's hand reaches for Aeri again, and this time Aeri is still sensitive from the first orgasm, which makes every touch feel more intense. "Try to relax this time. Don't fight it, don't overthink it. Just feel."

The second round takes two minutes and thirty-five seconds. Ning times it on her phone, which is both embarrassing and somehow also helps because Aeri can see the numbers ticking up and it becomes a goal to try to beat, something to focus on besides the anxiety.

"Progress," Ning announces when it's over, when Aeri is gasping and oversensitive and can't believe they're doing this. "That's almost a minute longer than the first time. That's a 48% improvement. Very good."

"You did math?" Aeri asks incredulously.

"I'm good at math. And data analysis. It's useful for art actually—understanding proportions and ratios." Ning is already reaching for her again. "Want to try for three minutes? I bet you can do it."

They go three more times.

By the third round, Aeri manages three minutes and twenty seconds. By the fourth, it's three minutes and fifty-five seconds. By the fifth orgasm, Aeri is completely wrecked, exhausted and overstimulated and barely able to form coherent thoughts, and it takes four minutes and twelve seconds. She's lying on Ning's bed in nothing but her hoodie, which Ning had insisted she keep on ("you look cute in it"), legs shaking, cock finally soft after five orgasms in the span of an hour.

Her jeans and underwear are in a pile on the floor. There's cum on Ning's sheets that she'll have to wash later. She can't feel her legs. Her brain has stopped producing useful thoughts.

"You did so well," Ning murmurs, settling beside her on the bed, one hand trailing fingers through Aeri's hair in a way that's more tender than sexual, more comforting than arousing. "Five times in one session. That's really impressive. And clear improvement with each round—your body is already learning that it's okay to take longer, that nothing bad happens if you don't come immediately."

"I can't believe you actually timed all of those," Aeri says weakly. "You kept track. You probably have notes."

"I absolutely have notes. They're on my phone. Timestamps for each round, observations about your responses, notes about what seemed to work." Ning shows her the phone screen, which indeed has detailed notes. "Data is important. How else would we track your progress over time?"

Aeri should probably be more bothered by being turned into a data point, but she's too exhausted to care. "This is insane."
"This is science. Sex science. The best kind." Ning sets her phone aside and pulls a blanket over both of them. "How do you feel? Physically, emotionally, all of it. Be honest."

"Exhausted. Overwhelmed. My legs feel like jelly." Aeri turns her head to look at Ning properly. "Like you just thoroughly ruined me for anyone else. Like I'm never going to be able to get off normally again without thinking about you timing me and taking notes."

"Is that a bad thing?" Ning asks, something almost vulnerable in her expression.

"I don't know yet. Ask me when my brain starts working again." Aeri pauses. "Why are you doing this? Really? I know you said you like me, but this is—this is a lot of effort for someone you barely know."

"I like you," Ning repeats, her hand still moving gently through Aeri's hair. "I know I've been kind of terrible about showing it—all the teasing and the public humiliation and the systematic campaign to make you constantly aroused. But I genuinely like you. You're smart and cute and you get so excited about historical facts that most people find boring. You have this problem that makes you vulnerable in a way that I find—" She pauses, searching for words. "I find it endearing. Real. Most people are so fake all the time, performing for each other. But you can't fake this. And I want to help. I want to be the one helping you figure this out."

"In a weird, Ning kind of way," Aeri supplies, echoing what she said earlier.

"Exactly. In a weird, Ning kind of way." Ning pulls the blanket higher, tucking it around them both. "Stay for a bit? My roommate won't be back until midnight—she's got some study group thing. We can just lie here and recover. You probably shouldn't try to walk back to your dorm right now anyway. Your legs are still shaking."

Aeri knows she should leave. Should go back to her own dorm, process what just happened, think rationally about whether this is a good idea to continue. Should definitely not stay here in Ning's bed, surrounded by Ning's scent, with Ning's hand in her hair and Ning's body warm beside her.

Instead, she curls into Ning's side, letting herself be held, and says, "Okay. I'll stay."

They lie there in comfortable silence. Ning's hand never stops moving through Aeri's hair, gentle and soothing. The room is quiet except for the distant sound of music from another floor and the occasional voice in the hallway. Ning's sheets smell like her perfume and paint and now also like sex, and Aeri thinks about how three weeks ago Ning was just the intimidatingly popular girl who made her nervous from across the quad.

Now Ning is the person who knows her most embarrassing secret, who's seen her at her most vulnerable, who's somehow decided that Aeri's sexual dysfunction is something worth investing significant time and effort into fixing. Who just made her come five times and took detailed notes about it and is now holding her like she's something precious.

"Same time next week?" Ning asks eventually, her voice quiet in the dim room.

"You want to do this regularly?" Aeri asks, even though she already knows the answer.

"If you're willing. We should do sessions at least twice a week to see real improvement. Consistency is important for building up tolerance." Ning presses a kiss to the top of Aeri's head. "Plus—I like spending time with you. Even beyond the experiment part. This was nice. I like getting to know you."

"Even though I'm a quick-shot nerdy disaster who came five times in an hour and probably broke some kind of pathetic record?"

"Especially because of that." Ning's voice is warm, amused, fond. "You're interesting, Aeri. The problem just makes you more interesting. Most people are boring. You're not boring."

Aeri shows up to Ning's dorm exactly one week later, her heart hammering the entire walk across campus.

The week between sessions has been torture in its own way. Ning has continued her campaign of casual touches and devastating comments, but now there's an added layer to it—the knowledge of what happened last Tuesday, the memory of Ning's hand on her, the way Ning looks at her now like she knows exactly what Aeri looks like when she comes.

"Right on time," Ning says when she opens the door, and Aeri's mouth goes dry because Ning is wearing even less than last time—just an oversized t shirt that falls to mid-thigh and apparently nothing else. Her hair is down, still damp from a shower, and she smells like that vanilla body wash that Aeri has been unable to stop thinking about all week.

"Yup," Aeri manages, stepping inside and trying not to stare at Ning's bare legs, at the way the shirt clings slightly to her body, at the fact that Aeri can see the outline of—

"I'm glad you're here." Ning closes the door, locks it with a click. "How was your week?"

"Terrible. You know it was terrible. You were there for most of it." Aeri drops her backpack by the door, suddenly unsure what to do with her hands. "You touched me in the library on Thursday and I had to go to the bathroom twice. You left me hard in the middle of a lecture."

"I know. I could tell." Ning's smile is wicked, satisfied. "I've been testing your responses. Seeing what gets you worked up. Building anticipation for tonight."

"You're so mean."

"I prefer 'thorough.'" Ning closes the distance between them, and suddenly they're standing very close, close enough that Aeri can see the water droplets still clinging to Ning's neck from her shower. "I've been thinking about tonight all week. About what we did last time. About what I want to try with you today."

"What do you want to try?" Aeri's voice comes out breathless.

"A few things. But first—" Ning's hand comes up to cup Aeri's face, thumb brushing across her cheek. "How are you feeling about last week? We haven't really talked about it."

"I've been thinking about it constantly. I can't stop thinking about it. You made me come five times and took notes and I should probably be more bothered by that but I'm not, I'm just—" Aeri stops, reorganizing her thoughts. "I'm here. That should tell you how I feel about it."

"Good answer." Ning leans in, and for a moment Aeri thinks she's going to kiss her, but instead she just breathes against Aeri's lips, creating anticipation without giving her what she wants. "Take off your clothes. Everything this time. I want to see all of you."

Aeri's hands shake as she pulls off her hoodie, her shirt underneath, her jeans. She hesitates at her bra and underwear, and Ning makes an impatient sound.
"All of it. Don't be shy now. I've already seen your cock. I've had my hand on it. There's nothing left to hide."

Aeri removes the last of her clothes, standing completely naked in Ning's dorm room while Ning is still dressed in that oversized shirt. The power imbalance is obvious, intentional, and it makes Aeri's cock start to harden despite her nervousness.

"Much better." Ning circles her slowly, appraising, and Aeri has to fight not to cover herself. "You have such a good body. I couldn't fully appreciate it last time with your hoodie on. But look at you—" Her fingers trail across Aeri's shoulders, down her arms. "Toned muscles here. Nice abs. Strong thighs." Her hand slides down to Aeri's hip. "And you're already getting hard just from me looking at you. So responsive."

"I can't help it—"

"I know. It's not a criticism. It's hot." Ning's hand wraps around Aeri's cock, already half-hard, and strokes once. Slowly. "We're doing things differently tonight. Last week was about baseline data. Tonight is about control. I'm going to edge you."

"Edge me?" Aeri's voice cracks.

"Bring you close to orgasm and then stop. Over and over. Make you hold it." Ning's hand continues stroking, slow and deliberate. "The goal is to train your body that it doesn't have to come immediately. That it can sustain arousal without tipping over. It's going to be frustrating. Probably agonizing. But it will help."
"How many times—" Aeri gasps as Ning's grip tightens.

"Until I think you're ready. Could be five times. Could be ten. Could be twenty. Depends on how well you handle it." Ning guides Aeri to the bed, pushing her down. "Lie back. Arms above your head. Don't touch yourself or me without permission."

Aeri lies back, placing her arms above her head as instructed, and watches as Ning climbs onto the bed with her. This position leaves Aeri completely exposed, vulnerable, unable to do anything but take whatever Ning gives her.

"Good girl," Ning murmurs, and Aeri's cock twitches at the praise. "I'm going to touch you now. Your only job is to tell me when you're getting close. Don't try to hold back when you feel it coming—tell me immediately. Understand?"

"Yes."

"Yes, what?"

Aeri's brain short-circuits for a second before she realizes what Ning wants. "Yes, ma'am."

"Much better." Ning's smile is sharp, pleased. "Let's begin."

She wraps her hand around Aeri's cock and starts stroking with that same steady rhythm from last week, and Aeri's hips jerk up immediately. But this time Ning's other hand presses down on her stomach, holding her in place.

"Don't move. Stay still. Let me do all the work."

Aeri tries. She tries so hard to stay still as Ning strokes her, as the pleasure builds with that familiar, terrifying speed. Her hands clench into fists above her head, her abs tensing with the effort of not moving her hips.

She can feel her orgasm approaching after less than two minutes, that inevitable tightening low in her stomach, the point of no return that's always come so fast.

"Close," she gasps out. "I'm close—"

Ning immediately stops, her hand releasing Aeri's cock completely. The sensation of being right on the edge with no stimulation is agonizing—Aeri's body is screaming for completion, for those few more strokes that would push her over.

"Very good," Ning says calmly, like she's not currently torturing Aeri. "That was one minute forty-five seconds. About the same as your baseline last week. Let's see if we can push it longer on the next round."

"Next round?" Aeri's voice is strangled. "Right now?"

"We're doing them back to back. That's the point of edging. Sustained arousal without release." Ning's hand returns, starting to stroke again immediately, and Aeri makes a sound that's almost a sob because she's still so sensitive from being denied.

This time it takes even less time—maybe ninety seconds before Aeri is gasping out "close, close, I'm close" and Ning stops again, leaving her desperate and aching.

"One minute thirty. You're getting more sensitive, which is expected. The prolonged arousal makes everything more intense." Ning's voice is rough, detached, like she's conducting an actual experiment and not reducing Aeri to a desperate, begging mess. "How do you feel?"

"Frustrated. Aching. Like I'm going to die if you don't let me come."

"You won't die. But noted." Ning starts again, and this time she changes her technique—using her thumb to circle the head of Aeri's cock on each upstroke, adding stimulation in a way that makes Aeri's whole body tense.

"Close—fuck—I'm close—" Less than a minute this time.

Ning stops. Aeri actually whimpers.

"That was only fifty-five seconds. We're going backwards, Aeri. You're so worked up that you're getting more sensitive instead of less." Ning's hand trails up Aeri's body, deliberately not touching her cock. "I think we need to try something different. Distraction. Talk to me. Tell me about something completely unsexy."

"What—" Aeri can barely form words. "Tell you what?"

"European history. You were reading about the French Revolution when I first approached you in the library. Tell me about that. Explain it to me in detail. And while you do, I'm going to keep touching you."

Ning's hand returns to Aeri's cock, starting that slow, steady stroking again, and Aeri tries desperately to focus her brain on history instead of the sensation.

"The French Revolution started in 1789—" Her voice breaks as Ning's thumb does that thing again. "Started because of economic factors—bread prices were rising—"

"Keep going. Don't stop talking."

"The price of bread increased because of—fuck—because of poor harvests and also the government's financial crisis from supporting the American Revolution—" Aeri is gasping now, trying to form coherent sentences while Ning strokes her with steady, maddening pressure. "The Third Estate was being taxed heavily while the First and Second Estates were exempt—"

"You're close again, aren't you? I can tell by the way you're breathing."

"Mmff yes—I'm close—"

"Keep talking. Tell me more."

"The Tennis Court Oath was when the Third Estate—" Aeri's words dissolve into a moan as Ning speeds up slightly. "When they swore not to—to disband until—"

"Until what? Finish the sentence."

"Until a constitution was established—close, I'm so close—"

Ning stops. Aeri has been talking for maybe two and a half minutes, which is longer than before, but it feels like an eternity when every second is this intense.

"Better. Two minutes twenty seconds. The distraction is helping." Ning releases Aeri's cock and moves up her body to straddle her hips, not sitting on her cock, just hovering. "Let's try something else. I'm going to use my body to stimulate you. You're going to keep your hands above your head and not touch me. Can you do that?"

"I'll try—"

"Not try. Do. If you touch me without permission, I stop entirely and you don't get to come at all tonight." Ning's eyes are serious. "Understand?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good girl." Ning lowers herself slightly, her thighs pressing against either side of Aeri's cock, creating pressure without direct contact. She starts to move, grinding down, and the sensation is entirely different—softer, warmer, more diffuse than her hand but somehow even more intense because it's her body.

Aeri's hands grip the pillow above her head so hard her knuckles go white. The urge to touch Ning, to grab her hips and pull her down properly, to take some control in this situation is overwhelming. But she doesn't. She keeps her hands where they are and takes what Ning gives her.

"Look how good you're being," Ning murmurs, rolling her hips. "So obedient. Following instructions even when it's hard. Even when you want to touch me so badly. I can see it in your face—you're fighting not to grab me. But you're doing so well."

The praise makes Aeri's cock throb. The combination of Ning's body grinding against her and the words and the complete denial of control is driving her insane.
"Close," she gasps. "I'm close again—"

Ning immediately stops moving. "How long was that? Let me check—" She looks at her phone. "Three minutes five seconds. We're making progress. Your body is learning to sustain arousal longer."

"It doesn't feel like progress. It feels like torture!"

"Effective torture." Ning shifts, reaching down between them, and Aeri realizes with a jolt that Ning is touching herself. "I'm wet. Did you know that? Watching you like this, seeing you so desperate—it's getting me off."

Aeri makes a strangled sound. The knowledge that Ning is turned on by this, that she's not just clinically conducting an experiment but actually aroused, makes everything worse and better simultaneously.

"Want to feel?" Ning takes Aeri's hand from above her head and guides it between her legs, and yes—she's soaked, wet enough that Aeri's fingers slide easily through her folds. "That's all from watching you. From having this much control over you. From seeing what you look like when I edge you over and over."

"Please—" Aeri doesn't even know what she's begging for anymore.

"Please what? Please let you come? Please fuck you?" Ning removes Aeri's hand, placing it back above her head. "Not yet. We're going to do this five more times. And then, if you've been very good, I'll let you come inside me."

Aeri's brain whites out for a second at the image that creates. "Inside—"

"Inside me. Properly. No condom, no barriers. I'm clean and I'm on birth control and I want to feel you come inside me." Ning's eyes are dark, heated. "But only if you can last. Only if you can hold off for five more edges. Think you can do that?"

"I don't know—"

"I think you can. I think you're stronger than you know. Now—" Ning's hand returns to Aeri's cock. "Let's continue."

The next five edges are agonizing. Ning varies her techniques—sometimes using her hand, sometimes grinding against Aeri with her body, once using her mouth for thirty seconds that feel like both forever and not long enough. Each time Aeri gets close, Ning stops, making her hover on that edge without release.

By the eighth edge, Aeri is actually crying—frustrated tears leaking from the corners of her eyes, her whole body shaking with the need to come.

"Please," she begs. "Please, I can't—I've been good—please let me come—"

"You have been good. So good." Ning wipes the tears from Aeri's face gently. "Just two more. You can do two more for me."
"I can't—"

"You can." Ning kisses her forehead, her cheeks, soft and sweet in contrast to the torture she's inflicting. "You're so much stronger than you think. Two more and then I'll give you what you need."

Aeri makes it through the ninth edge, barely. On the tenth, she's sobbing openly, begging incoherently, her whole body strung so tight she feels like she might shatter.

"Good girl," Ning murmurs when she gasps out "close" yet again. "You did it. Ten edges. That's more than I expected you could handle your first time trying this." She positions herself over Aeri's cock, hovering at her entrance. "Ready for your reward?"

"Please—yes—please—"

Ning sinks down slowly, taking Aeri inside her, and the sensation after all that edging is almost painful in its intensity. Aeri nearly comes immediately just from the first moment of being inside her—the heat, the wetness, the tight grip of Ning's body.

"Don't come yet," Ning commands, starting to move. "I want to come first. You're going to hold it until I say."

"I can't—after all that—I can't hold it—"

"You can and you will. Focus on something else. Count backwards from one hundred. Recite the French Revolution timeline. Whatever you need to do." Ning rides her with deliberate movements, clearly chasing her own pleasure, and Aeri tries desperately to think about anything other than how good this feels.

It's impossible. After ten edges, after an hour of sustained arousal without release, Aeri's body is screaming for completion. She counts—ninety-nine, ninety-eight, ninety-seven—but the numbers keep getting lost as Ning moves above her, as the sensation builds to something beyond what she can control.

"I'm close," Ning gasps, her movements becoming less controlled. "Just a little longer—hold on—"

Aeri is gripping the pillow so hard she's probably tearing it, her abs are clenched, she's biting her lip hard enough to taste blood, and she's still not sure she can hold it—

"Now," Ning cries out, her body clenching around Aeri as she comes. "Come now—fill me up—"

Aeri comes with a sound that's almost a scream, the orgasm hitting so hard after all that buildup that she actually sees stars. It goes on forever, wave after wave of sensation, spilling inside Ning until she has nothing left.

When it finally ends, she's shaking all over, barely conscious, completely wrecked.

"Holy shit," Ning breathes, still seated on her, both of them trembling. "That was—you did so well—I can't believe you held it that long—"

"How long—" Aeri's voice is wrecked.

"The last edge before I let you fuck me? Four minutes thirty seconds. Your longest yet by far." Ning carefully climbs off, and Aeri can see her release dripping out. "And you lasted inside me for two minutes forty seconds before you came. That's incredible improvement from last week's baseline."

"I can't feel my legs."

"That's normal after edging." Ning settles beside her, pulling a blanket over them both. "How do you feel? Honestly."

"Like you just thoroughly destroyed me in the best possible way. Like I'm never going to be able to have normal sex again without thinking about this. Like you ruined me." Aeri turns her head to look at Ning. "Also really, really good. That was the most intense orgasm of my life."

"Good. That's what edging does—makes the eventual release more intense. And your body learned that it can hold off, that it doesn't have to come immediately. This was huge progress, Aeri." Ning presses a kiss to her temple. "I'm proud of you."

The praise makes Aeri's chest feel tight. "Same time next week?"

"Same time next week. And next time—" Ning's smile is evil. "Next time we'll try seeing how long you can last inside me without any edging first. Build up your raw stamina. Think you're ready for that?"

"I have no idea. But I'll try."

"That's all I ask." Ning pulls her closer. "Now rest. You've earned it."

Aeri closes her eyes, exhausted and satisfied and already half-dreading, half-anticipating next week's session.

She's completely, thoroughly addicted to this.

To Ning.