I finish my math work and set it aside, tucking it away into my oversized back pack that still never seems to be big enough.
Oliver, my best friend, has been in the shower for about twenty minutes. At school he said that I could come over if I was good with waiting at his house for an hour because he had soccer practice. He got home a half an hour ago, and immediately got in the shower.
God, I felt like a dog in heat. Seeing him walk through the doorway, dripping with sweat. His shirt stuck to his skin, doing nothing to hide the defined muscle beneath. I fear for what I'd do if I followed through with any of the thoughts racing through my over active imagination. Those are the thoughts I only dare to think alone. The thoughts I force myself to forget about when around him. I do that now; I force myself to push those thoughts deep, deep down into my subconscious, where they'll never meet the light of day.
I've taken to getting comfortable, since I'm staying the night, laying out blankets and popping some popcorn.
I'd been browsing Netflix for about ten minutes when I hear noise in the bathroom. My ears take a moment to pick out what I realize are quiet, muffled moans. I sit straight up, my eyes darting to where the bathroom door lies closed. I wait a moment and fault my own hearing, convincing myself the sounds where imaginary, maybe manifested more out of a sick hope than anything. But then I hear another moan.
I ignore the slick between my legs as I gently, curiously pad for the bathroom door. I open it a crack, then a bit further as I have at the sight before me.
I stare in awe at the smooth, tight movements of Ollie's hand stroking up and down his swollen cock. The water clings to his already black hair, making it somehow even darker. The shower water drips from the dark curls down onto his defined chest, and there's a very large part of me that wants nothing more than to trace each and every little path of water on his torso with my tongue, licking all the way to the incredibly hard cock still fisted in his hand.
A shaky moan tumbles out of his throat, and it sends my eyes rolling into the back of my head. I feel a thrumming heat begin to pulse deep between my legs, and my heart kicks up a beat.
I shouldn't be watching him, and I certainly shouldn't be enjoying it this much. But I can't tear my eyes away from the magnificent sight before me.
I think about how he might be imagining me taking his cock down my throat instead of his fist, and I stifle a moan at the thought, my hand flying to cover my mouth.
But, no.
That's not right. He's wouldn't be thinking about me. He's probably thinking about Liv, the cliché, Barbie-bitch that inhabits our high school. He's probably thinking about her full, pink lips stretching around his thick cock. My nostrils flare. I would never admit this, but when it comes to Ollie, I've always been jealous.
All I want is to stomp into that shower and show him. Show him how good I could make him feel. How much better I could be to him than Liv ever could. That he should be mine, and mine alone.
I've always gotten off more on giving pleasure than receiving it, and god, do I want to show him that. I need him so desperately. I'm aching in this moment for anything he will give me, and I'm too far gone to even be shocked by my thoughts. I don't think I've felt like this for anyone, ever. Well, for no one except the man before me. And that just what he is now, a man. Gone are his long, skinny limbs, and awkward edges. His soft, young features lost to the collection of sharp, dangerous angles that compose his face and body.
But I suppose I've grown, too. My petite, gangly body now shaped into the form of a woman. Where I was flat before, now I have a full ass and tits, my girlish features refined into mature, precise lines.
How long have ignored my hunger, my craving for Ollie? Too fucking long.
I focus my attention back into the delicious sight before me, and as I do, his pace quickens, his black hair falling into his face. Now he's thrusting into his hand and I can tell he's close.
As he leans forward, supporting his weight on the tile wall of the shower with his forearm, a whimpered word breaks from his throat.
"Kat." He begs.
I hear a noise. It's loud and high and needy sounding and ohmyfuckinggod. That was me. I know I fucked up when I hear his startled, sharp intake of breath. He whips around, and I don't even know what I'm doing as I charge forward, into the bathroom. As soon as I cross the threshold, I whip around and shove the door closed, clicking the lock into place.
When I turn back to face him, I can only endure the mixed look of mortified shame, horror, and shock on his face for a single second before I'm running for the glass sliding door, ripping it open, and slipping inside the shower.
I'm still fully dressed, but right now, I do not give a single flying fuck.
I roughly grab his face between my hands and smash my lips over his. Ollie groans into my mouth, and brings his hands up to my neck. I pull back lightly to catch his bottom lip between my teeth, but the absence of his lips over mine is too painful, so I'm diving for his mouth again.
His hands slid down from where they had rested on my neck to brush down my body. They tug at the hem of my soaked sweatshirt and I finally break away from him to throw the hoodie and shirt underneath over my head in one, leaving me in only a pair of his oversized, now dark grey sweatpants.
I don't have to see myself in a mirror to know I look like a mess, my long, wet hair sticking to my tits and stomach, my chest heaving in breaths that don't seem to be enough.
Ollie's eyes are wild, his pupils blown wide, defined chest heaving all the same as mine. His crazed eyes take me in, his brows scrunch upward, and together. He looks the picture of madness, and it's the cutest thing I've ever seen.
"Beautiful," He murmurs, "So fucking beautiful."
That's the only warning I get before he's kissing me again. The kiss is deep, but different this time. The first kiss was all frantic passion and urgency, but this... this is slow and sensual and yearning. He's slowly pushing his body toward mine, and I allow him to lead me back against the wall until his body is flush with mine, pinning my body with his own.
His voice is rich and deep, thick with tension when he speaks, "Kat, what are you doing in here?"
"I... I heard you." I whisper. "I heard you." I say again.
A/n: I'll probably add more to this later, but school's a bitch rn and I wanted to publish something. Hope you enjoyed, loves. <3
