I Knocked on His Door on Campus and I Wasn’t Leaving Alone

Iván’s room in the dorm smelled of used books, machine coffee, and that tension that builds when two people have been brushing past each other in the hallways for weeks without daring to cross the line. It was Friday night. The hallway lights were already off and only the bluish glow of the laptop screen spilled out from his room. I know because I stood in front of his door for a moment, listening to my own breathing, before I raised my hand.

I knocked three times, softly. I didn’t wait for him to answer.

I’m Mara, and that night I had decided to stop pretending. We’d been like this for almost a month: him and me running into each other in the library, in the cafeteria line, in the same study group nobody had asked for. A hand brushing the other’s as a book changed hands. A glance that lasted a second too long. Every night I went back to my room and lay staring at the ceiling, replaying in my head what I hadn’t dared to do. Until I got tired of replaying it.

I was wearing an oversized sweatshirt that barely covered my thighs, leggings, and my hair loose, falling in waves over my shoulders. My cheeks were burning and I had an uncomfortable heat between my legs that had followed me all the way from my dorm to his. I walked in, closed the door with my heel, and threw the bolt.

Iván turned in his chair. He looked at me like someone who couldn’t quite believe what was in front of him.

—Mara… —he started.

I didn’t let him continue. I pulled the sweatshirt off over my head in one movement. I wasn’t wearing anything underneath. I saw his sentence break off halfway, saw his eyes drop slowly and then come back up.

—I’ve been thinking about this all week —I said, and my voice came out rougher than I expected—. I didn’t come here to talk.

I yanked my leggings down and tossed them beside a stack of notes. I stood completely naked in the middle of his room, with the cold light of the monitor cutting out my silhouette. He was still seated, gripping the armrests like he was short of breath.

Don’t let him back out now, I thought. Don’t let him say anything sensible.

He didn’t. He got up slowly and took off his T-shirt. He had the lean, toned body of someone who spent his dead afternoons in the campus gym instead of studying. When he unbuttoned his jeans and pushed them down, he was already hard. I stepped closer, wrapped my hand around him, and felt him throb against my palm, hot and firm. He sucked in a breath through his teeth.

—Are you sure? —he managed to ask.

—More sure than anything in my life —I answered.

***

I pushed him back down into the chair. He sank into it with his legs apart, looking up at me with a mix of hunger and disbelief that only turned me on more. I knelt for a second between his knees, not out of submission but out of pure desire to take my time. I took him in my mouth, slowly, from the base, listening to the deep sound that escaped him, the sound he tried to swallow. He liked that I played, that I stopped, that I started again. When I felt his fingers tangle in my hair, I straightened up.

—Stay still —I told him, smiling—. I’m in charge.

I climbed on top of him, one knee on each side of his hips. The chair creaked. I braced my hands on his shoulders and lowered myself centimeter by centimeter, feeling myself open, feeling my body give in to something I’d been imagining for weeks in my room bed. I closed my eyes. I bit my lip. I sank all the way down and stayed still, breathing against his forehead, letting the two of us adjust.

—Fuck, Mara —he murmured against my neck.

I started moving. First slowly, with short rocking motions that made my legs tremble. Then faster, finding my own rhythm, marking each rise and each drop myself. He grabbed my hips, not to guide me, but to hold on. The slap of skin on skin filled the small room, and I didn’t care if anyone was passing in the hallway and heard us.

—More —I asked him.

He gripped me hard, dug his fingers into my hip and thrust upward at the same time I came down. The collision tore a short cry out of me. He did it again. And again. Each shove hit me exactly where I needed it, in that deep spot that clouded my head. I rode him without control, my thighs burning and my breath breaking apart.

The first orgasm hit me quickly, like a lash I hadn’t been expecting yet. I clenched all over, sank my nails into his shoulders, and kept moving despite the trembling, stretching it out until my legs could no longer hold me up.

I didn’t stop there. I changed the angle, leaned back a little, bracing myself on his knees so the friction hit me directly where I felt it most. The second one caught me deeper, longer. I arched, let my head fall back, and came again, soaking him, soaking the chair, shameless.

—You’re shaking —he said, his voice thick.

—You just hold on —I replied between gasps.

***

He lifted me in his arms without leaving me, with a strength I hadn’t expected from him, and carried me two steps to the edge of the bed. He sat me down, gently pushed me back until I was lying down, and spread my legs with my feet resting over his shoulders. He stayed there for a second looking at me, kneeling on the mattress, and that pause was almost as good as what came next.

He drove into me again in one thrust and this time he set the rhythm. Long, slow thrusts, pulling almost all the way out before sinking all the way back in. He leaned over me, folding me almost in half, and kissed me. It was a messy kiss, all tongue and teeth, while he kept moving without stopping. I moaned into his mouth.

—Do you like it? —he asked against my lips, not stopping the thrusts.

—Yes… —I could barely speak—. Don’t stop.

—Has anyone touched you like this? —he growled in my ear.

—No one —I said, and it was true—. I want this whenever I feel like it. Every time.

The third orgasm ran through me like a current. I locked my legs around his waist, scratched his back with my nails, and stopped controlling the sounds coming out of my throat. My whole body shook while he kept moving, prolonging the wave until I thought there was nothing left.

But there was.

He pulled out abruptly, rose onto his knees, and gripped himself with one hand, breathing hard. I sat up a little, looked him in the eyes, and understood what neither of us needed to say. I brought my mouth to him. I took him slowly, tasting the mix of both of us, feeling him tense under my tongue. His hips jerked, he let out a choked sound, and gave in. I didn’t pull away. I took him down at my own pace, without stopping looking at him, until he had no strength left and collapsed beside me on the mattress.

***

We stayed like that for a long while, breathing in broken bursts, sweat cooling on our skin and the laptop screen lighting the ceiling blue. He reached for my hand. I let him take it. Then he turned and kissed me again, now slowly, without urgency, testing himself in my mouth and smiling faintly.

—I thought you were never going to make up your mind —he said.

—And I thought you never would either —I answered—. Good thing someone had to be brave.

We spent a while touching each other without hurry, talking about nonsense, laughing about the weeks we’d wasted pretending nothing was happening every time we ran into each other in the library. But the body wasn’t finished, and we both knew it. When his hand started tracing my lower back with intent, I turned onto my stomach and got up on my knees.

He came into me from behind again, this time calmly, enjoying how sensitive I still was after so many times. His hands traveled over my back, my sides, my hips. Each thrust was deep and unhurried, as if he wanted to memorize every centimeter. I pushed back, searching for his rhythm, and the wet sound of the two of us colliding felt obscene and perfect at the same time.

—I love how you open for me —he whispered.

I came again, almost without expecting it, just from the feeling of being so full and so exposed. I lost count of how many there had been. I didn’t care.

We changed positions one last time. I lay on my back, pulled him toward me, and wrapped my legs around his waist. He sank all the way in and stayed pressed against my mouth as he moved, our moans blending together. I felt him swell, felt him speed up.

—I’m going to… —he started.

—Stay —I told him—. Stay inside.

With one last deep thrust he let go and I met him at the same time, a slow, thick climax that left me trembling under his weight. We stayed wrapped around each other, his forehead against mine, still joined, while our hearts slowly began to settle.

—This won’t be the last time —he murmured against my lips.

I smiled and squeezed him one last time with my whole body.

—Whenever I feel like it —I answered—, you’re going to be here.

And by the look on his face, I knew he would keep that promise.