TANK

9 (plot, SMUT)

I wake up with a jolt to my phone ringing. Tank's arms are still wrapped around me, weighing me down. I blindly grope around the bed searching for my phone. I have to lean over the bed in my search, eventually finding my phone in my discarded jeans. At my movements Tank's arms restrict around my waist, refusing to let me go with a groan of protest. "Hello?" I say, answering the call, after seeing it's Nora. "Hey," she says, voice tinny over the phone, "Just wanted to check up on you, since you never came home or said anything,"  her voice is tinged with concern. "Yeah," I reply, "Yeah, I'm good." At this point Tank is stirring, waking up. "Sorry I didn't come home, I can fill you in later." I worry my lip. "How about you? Are you okay after last night?" I ask, suddenly embarrassed that I never checked up on her. "Yeah I'm good." She replies a little too quickly, I make a mental note to check up on her better once I get home.

Tank is fairly awake now, his eyes follow his fingers as he traces them down my body. My body flushes, blooming under his touch, but I work to keep my voice steady. "Okay," I reply to Nora, "I'll be home today and we can talk then." Tank protests at that, and starts kissing my shoulders, biting down at the joint where my shoulder meets my neck. "Do you need a ride home or anything or are you good?" Nora asks, always considerate. I turn to face Tank and lock eyes with him, staring him down in an attempt to chastise him. "I think I'm good, I can probably get a ride home." Tank presses his smirk into my throat, dragging his stubble against the sensitive skin there. "Okay, see you then," she responds. "See you," I reply, then hang up on the call.

I toss my phone back to the ground and turn my attention back to Tank who's staring me down with an uncomfortable intensity. "What?" I ask him, avoiding his eyes in embarrassment. "Just thinking," he says, chest rumbling with his voice, "That you look really good in my shirt." His fingers curl around my jaw, angling my face up for a kiss. He meets my lips, kissing me softly, in a way that feels almost restrained. Almost automatically, I start to roll over, hands running up his sides, before resting on his back. He follows, slotting himself between my legs and deepening the kiss. He sits up, hands gripping my hips. He plays with the hem of his shirt on me, rucking it slowly up my thighs, just far enough that I'm not exposed. His hands brush across my bare skin, but his thumbs stay on top of the shirt the entire time, playing with the fabric. He lowers himself back down to me, weight pressing against my body.

He kisses me slowly, lips moving against mine with reverence. My body is mostly limp underneath of his, pinned by his weight. But, I meet his kisses, hands exploring his back. After a moment he pulls back again, and rests his face against my neck. "You're heading home soon?" He asks. "Yeah, sadly," I respond. "I have to do some work to meet some deadlines tomorrow." He pulls himself up onto his elbows, facing me, and excruciatingly slowly grinds down between my legs. We maintain eye contact for a moment, but the sensation forces my eyes to flutter shut. "What for?" He asks, surprising me, as I had assumed talk time was over. "Huh?" I question him, too focused on the stimuli of him between my legs to register the meaning of the question. "I meant like," his grinding continues lavishly slow, "What's the work for?" 

It takes all of my focus to understand what he means, focused on moving back against the hard line of his body. "Oh it's for," I gasp with his movement, "It's for summer session classes." I moan, desperate for him to pick up the speed.

I'm shocked with a sudden feeling of cold as Tank gets up, no longer blanketing me with his body. His dick bounces, hard in his underwear but he heads to his closet, and starts getting dressed. "For sure. We should get going then," he says, smirking at my protests. I flounder to find my words. I settle for a loud huff, "What was th-" I begin, but I'm interrupted by Tank grabbing my face and kissing me again. "I shouldn't keep you waiting, if you have work to do." he says, with a smug look on his face. I bite his lip in retaliation as he pulls away. "Fine," I reply, getting up to stand with him. I make a big show of lifting his shirt I was wearing up and off my body. I stand in front of his closet, resolutely not looking over to him, but nevertheless feeling his eyes rake down my body.