Lessons
Pairing: Erik Killmonger x Syn
Summary: Erik thinks his new girl, Syn is soft, sweet, innocent and totally inexperienced. But when she asks for a little “lesson,” he finds out real quick that innocence can be deceiving.
Warnings: Smut, oral sex (m. receiving), slight dom/sub vibes, explicit language, teasing, praise, Erik gets absolutely wrecked. Virgin OC but not naïve. Humor, fluff, and heat.
Nobody could believe that Erik had bagged a girl like her. Synclaire. Syn, as she let him call her, soft and honey-voiced with cheeks that dimpled when she smiled and eyes too bright to be caught in his world. She dressed like temptation disguised as innocence, pleated skirts that swished against thick thighs, socks that hugged her calves, and tops that always slipped just enough to show off smooth shoulders. She smelled like cocoa butter, vanilla lip gloss, and something floral and warm. Like she’d never raised her voice a day in her life, like she said please and thank you even when she didn’t have to.
She had the kind of presence that made strangers soften their tone. Gentle laugh. Big eyes. Polite nods. She said things like, "Oh, excuse me," even when you bumped into her. The kind of girl who brought extra napkins just in case, who laced her fingers together in her lap when she sat, who tilted her head when she listened like your words were a song she was trying to memorize.
Erik, on the other hand, was exactly what people expected. Big. Sharp. Oakland-bred and proudly unfiltered. Tattoos on his hands, chain always resting low on his chest, and a stare that made most people look away. His voice stayed low and clipped. His hands didn’t ask, they told. He didn’t do soft. He didn’t do sweet. Until Syn.
They met by chance. She worked part-time at a juice bar near the gym he hit when he wanted to be left alone. She’d smiled at him like she wasn’t afraid. Asked for his order in that quiet voice, no rush, no expectations. Then she gave him an extra protein shot without charging him. Just because.
The next time, she complimented his hoodie. The third time, she wrote her number on the smoothie cup in pink ink with a little heart over the "i." And Erik, who usually didn’t call nobody first, texted her before he made it to the parking lot.
Their vibe was... unlikely. But it worked. She softened his edges without even trying. He gave her space to bloom while acting like he didn’t notice how she started dressing even softer around him. Or maybe sweeter. Or maybe it was all calculated, and Erik just hadn’t figured it out yet.
Syn was a virgin. He knew that from the jump. She told him early, without shame. Just said it between bites of her acai bowl like she was talking about her favorite color. He liked that about her. That calm certainty. That soft confidence.
“I’ve never done anything,” she said, swinging her legs where they dangled from his kitchen counter, pink nails tapping against the glass in her hand. “But I’m not clueless. I watch... you know. For research.”
Erik had raised an eyebrow, leaning back on the counter. “Pornhub research?”
She giggled. Full cheeks, sweet lip gloss smile. “Educational reasons.”
He remembered that moment like it was burned into him. The way she said it like it wasn’t filthy. The way her legs swung just a little faster, like she was proud of herself. From that day forward, she liked teasing him just to watch his jaw clench. Skirts that hit high on her thighs when she bent to grab something. Sitting on his lap and pretending she didn’t know what she was doing. Giggling when his voice dropped to a growl and his hand found her hip.
But no matter how much she tempted him, Erik respected her pace. Kissed her slow. Held her soft. Touched her thighs but never slipped higher. Not until she told him she was ready. Not until she asked.
And tonight? Movie night, hoodies, blankets and all?
Syn was ready.
Just not for what he thought she needed.
Because under all that soft? Was a girl with a nasty little playlist of bookmarked videos, an understanding of angles, spit, grip, and rhythm, and a craving to see if she could make her big, bad boyfriend break apart with just her mouth.
She wasn’t here to be guided. She wanted to show off.
And Erik was about to find out the hard way that he wasn’t the only one who liked to be in control.
It started like any other night with them, easy and quiet, wrapped in the kind of intimacy that didn't need to announce itself.
Erik's living room was dim, lit only by the flickering glow of the TV and the soft gold wash from the floor lamp behind the couch. The sound of old-school movie dialogue drifted lazily through the space, something black and nostalgic, a comfort film they’d both seen too many times but still loved. The kind of movie that gave them something to quote, laugh about, and lean into each other over.
The heater purred low. Outside, the city was hushed in its winter rhythm. But inside, warmth bloomed. Syn was already curled up on his couch, half-under his heavy throw blanket, a bowl of popcorn balanced on her thighs. She looked like home.
Oversized hoodie swallowing her frame, bare legs folded to the side, pink-painted toes peeking out from fuzzy socks with little hearts on them. Her twists were loose and falling into her face, framing the soft curve of her cheek. She kept brushing them back with a flick of her fingers, distracted by the screen and the steady heat of Erik beside her. Every time she laughed, shoulders shaking, dimples flashing, Erik had to fight the impulse to kiss her just to feel that sound between his lips.
He sat beside her with a quiet kind of confidence, thighs wide, sweats loose on his hips, one arm slung across the back of the couch like a casual claim. She leaned into him without hesitation, like it was the most natural thing in the world. And maybe it was. Maybe she did belong there.
“You already seen this a hundred times,” Erik murmured into her hair, voice low and amused.
“So?” she said, her grin warm and playful. “You still laugh at the same parts. Don’t act brand new.”
He smirked, brushing his thumb along the curve of her hip under the blanket. Just enough pressure to let her feel the weight of him without making it a big thing.
Syn’s smile faltered for just a beat, quick enough that most wouldn’t have caught it. But Erik wasn’t most. He saw the slight bite of her lip, the way her lashes dipped, the twitch of a smirk she tried to hide. That was her tell. The lip bite. It meant she was thinking about something.
Something bold.
And Erik clocked it. Always did.
“What?” he asked, voice a notch lower now.
She didn’t answer right away. Just reached forward and set the popcorn bowl down on the table, then folded her legs beneath her, turning to face him more fully. Her hands rested in her lap, fingers fidgeting with the cuff of her sleeve.
“I been thinking about something…” she said quietly, like she was nervous, but her eyes never left his.
“Yeah?”
She inhaled slowly, then exhaled like she was steadying herself. “You know how I said I wanted to learn stuff? For when I’m ready?”
Erik shifted, the humor in his expression fading into something more focused, more alert. “Uh huh.”
Syn tilted her chin up, just a little. Her voice dropped into something softer, breathier. “Would you… teach me how to suck it?”
For a second, all sound vanished except the quiet hum of the TV. The scene on-screen was still moving, but Erik wasn’t watching it anymore. He stared at Syn like she’d just spoken in a language that only he could understand.
“Syn.”
She blinked up at him, cheeks rosy, but her gaze didn’t waver. “I mean… I watch videos. But I wanna know what you like. I wanna be good at it.”
Erik’s stare sharpened. He searched her face like he was waiting for her to crack a smile, to pull the rug out from under him with one of her sweet little laughs. But she didn’t.
She was serious.
That pretty mouth. That soft voice. That innocent frame wrapped up in his hoodie like it was armor. She was serious.
And Erik had no idea what the fuck he’d just agreed to.
But he was about to find out.
Erik didn’t move at first. He just looked at her. Looked at the way her lips parted like she hadn’t just flipped the whole night on its head, like she wasn’t sitting there asking to put her mouth on his dick like it was the most casual thing in the world. His breath stayed low in his chest, body heat rising beneath the loose lay of his hoodie. His heart thudded harder, a slow thrum that echoed in his ears, thick with disbelief and something darker. Something hungry.
“You sure?” he asked finally, voice low, thick, testing, trying to keep control even though it was already slipping.
Syn nodded, slow and deliberate. Her tongue flicked out to wet her lips, and her voice stayed soft, eyes big. “I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t.”
That was all he needed.
He spread his knees a little wider, leaned back into the couch with one arm slung across the top. He watched her like he was trying to figure out where the hell this hidden side had been hiding. Sweet little Syn, asking him to teach her with that same soft voice she used to order smoothies and say thank you. The same Syn who still couldn’t say the word "dick" without her voice dipping into a whisper.
She slid down off the couch slowly, gracefully but shyly, tucking her legs beneath her as she moved between his thighs. She settled on her knees with her hands resting lightly on his thighs, fingertips just barely touching. The sight alone made Erik exhale sharp through his nose. She looked up at him with the softest smile, all innocent curiosity, but her body language betrayed something far more dangerous.
“You just do what feels good, baby,” he said, voice turned molten, running hot under his skin. “Start with your tongue. Kiss my dick like you mean it.”
She leaned in with tentative kisses, soft and unsure, lips brushing against the bulge in his sweats like she wasn’t even sure what part to focus on. She gave a tiny, experimental lick to the fabric, then pulled back and looked up at him, confused.
“Like that?” she asked, her voice small.
Erik chuckled, warmth buzzing low in his stomach. “Nah, baby. You gonna need more than that. Here.” He moved slow, pulling his sweats down just enough to free his dick. It bounced up heavy and half-hard, already thick, already leaking at the tip.
Erik hissed a little breath. Even semi-hard, his dick held length, at least ten inches of thick, heavy meat, resting against his thigh before rising slow, proudly, and deliberate. As it stiffened fully, it stood tall, straight up like it had no shame. The skin was rich, dark, glossy like melted chocolate, veins bold beneath the surface, already pulsing with heat. The head was swollen, flushed deeper, already weeping at the tip. It looked obscene in her soft glow—like something carved just to ruin a sweet thing like her. A chocolate stick meant for sin.
Syn’s eyes widened, and she gave it a quick, nervous lick across the head, like she was taste-testing him. “Is it supposed to be this big already?”
Erik grinned, relaxed as hell, letting her explore. “That’s just the preview. Now stop playin’. Start with your tongue, light licks, baby. Slow. Just make it wet first.”
She followed his words exactly, like she was obeying instructions from a recipe. Long, teasing strokes with the flat of her tongue, little kisses between each one, her lips barely parting at first.
“Good. Yeah, just like that,” Erik praised, voice smooth, eyes half-lidded. “Now wrap them lips around the tip. Keep lookin’ at me. Don’t look away.”
She blushed but held his gaze as she opened wider, stretching those pretty lips over the head. It was clumsy at first, too soft, too shallow. But he didn’t mind. He liked teaching.
“Use your hand too. Light grip. Twist while you suck. Not too fast yet,” he murmured, stroking her hair. “You’re doin’ good, baby.”
She kept going, innocent and eager, her pace careful, breath hot through her nose. Erik’s hand remained steady in her hair, not forcing, just guiding her gently, fingertips brushing her scalp like he was holding back the tension coiling in his thighs. He kept his voice calm, warm, teaching her with every shift of his hips.
“Angle your head a little, yeah… just like that,” he whispered. “Let your tongue drag on the underside, baby. That’s where it’s sensitive. There you go.”
Syn obeyed, shy but responsive, her lips gliding down with more pressure now, her eyes still wide and locked on his. Every time he praised her, she reacted like it meant the world, humming softly, sucking a little deeper, her hand curling tighter around the base of his dick.
He was still convinced he was in charge, still lounging back like the teacher, cocky and calm, the one guiding his sweet girl through her first lesson.
It was sweet. Tender. Almost cute.
At first.
But then something shifted.
Her hand tightened. Her grip turned deliberate. Her eyes flicked up to his face again, and they weren’t soft this time. They were dark. Intent.
Then her mouth dropped lower, lips stretching wide, and she took more of him than he expected. Way more. It wasn’t just enthusiasm; it was skill, smooth and steady, no hesitation. Her jaw relaxed around his girth like she’d been waiting for this moment, studying, practicing in private just to deliver it perfectly. Her tongue dragged slow and slick along the sensitive underside, curling as she swallowed more of him, wet heat wrapping tight around his thickness. She moaned low in her throat, letting it vibrate up his shaft, and he felt it all the way in his spine. The way her throat flexed around the tip, the easy confidence in her pace, it completely betrayed that soft little virgin energy he thought he knew. She wasn’t guessing anymore—she was proving something.
“Shit,” Erik muttered, jaw tight now. His hand slid up into her hair, not pulling, just holding. His hips twitched slightly, not by choice. Reflex. Instinct.
She didn’t stop. She started moving, rhythm building, spit glossing her lips. Her hand stroked what her mouth couldn’t reach, twist and suck, twist and suck. And Erik felt that shit all the way to his toes. Every drag of her tongue, every slick pop when she pulled back and took him in again—it was too much and not enough.
His head fell back. A breath escaped him, long and low, strained through clenched teeth.
And that’s when he knew—
She wasn’t learning.
She was showing off.
He looked down again, stomach tight, breathing heavy, watching her cheeks hollow and her lashes flutter. She moaned around him like she liked the taste, like this was for her as much as it was for him. Drool slid down her chin. Her pace picked up.
Erik’s fingers clenched in the couch cushion.
The girl was dangerous.
And he was so, so fucked.
His thighs started to tense, his abs flexing under his shirt, breath hitching every time she swallowed him deeper. His hand finally tightened in her hair without thinking, but even then, she didn’t slow down. Her tongue flicked against the underside of his dick like it had muscle memory, like she’d practiced this on toys she never told him about. Her free hand cupped his balls, gently rolling them, and that was it—
His eyes rolled back.
Erik cursed under his breath, voice hoarse. “What the fuck, Syn…”
And she just blinked up at him, lips stretched, cheeks full, gagging just slightly but never breaking eye contact.
Sweet. Innocent. And absolutely filthy.
He couldn’t even catch his breath.
And she was just getting started.
The sweet, innocent pace Syn had started with was gone. Somewhere between Erik’s steady guidance and the weight of his dick sliding between her lips, she found a new rhythm. A dirtier one. Hungrier. Her mouth wasn’t just practicing anymore; it was performing, worshiping, devouring. Movements bolder. No hesitation. No fear. Just need. And beneath that need was something else. Something she’d been holding back.
Her hand twisted at the base, slow at first, then picking up tempo as her lips slid wet and hot over his length. Every stroke, every glide of her tongue was deliberate now, a sin-slick rhythm that had Erik gripping the couch cushion like it was the only thing tethering him to earth. Spit coated everything, her mouth, his dick, her chin and dripped down her wrist in glossy strings. The slide was sloppy, sensual, louder than the TV still playing in the background, forgotten and low. She leaned into it with her whole body, swaying forward like she was hypnotized by the weight of him, the taste of him, and the way he tensed with every flick of her tongue.
She looked up at him through her lashes, wide-eyed but dark with purpose. That innocence she wore so well still lingered in her expression, but there was a new fire behind it. Intention. Focus. A wicked little gleam that said she knew exactly what she was doing, and she liked watching him fall apart because of it. Her lips curled into a hint of a smile even as they stretched around him, cheeks hollowing, spit slipping down the corners of her mouth in shiny streaks.
Erik blinked down at her, chest rising faster, jaw tight. He swore he could still feel his own heartbeat in the tip of his dick. She was wrecking him, and she hadn't even taken him all the way yet. There was no trace of hesitation now. Just heat and pressure, and the way she moaned low around him like she wanted to live there, in the stretch of his thighs, in the space where his composure used to be. Every sound she made vibrated through him, every bob of her head sent sparks chasing up his spine.
“Syn…” he muttered, his voice fraying at the edges. It was meant to be a warning, but it came out more like a plea. His thighs tensed beneath her, corded muscle fighting every twitch of pleasure that rocked through him. One hand gripped the cushion until his knuckles paled while the other stayed locked in her twists, not guiding anymore, just hanging on. He wasn’t in control anymore—he was clinging to the idea of it, barely.
She moaned around him, long and low, sending vibrations all the way down to his balls. His hips jerked in response. Her mouth opened wider, jaw loosening like she’d practiced this, like she’d studied. She took him deeper, slow and steady, gagging just slightly but adjusting without pause. The wet sound of her throat stretching around his dick made Erik’s vision blur for a second. His head fell back, and for a moment, he swore he saw stars.
Fuck, this girl had been hiding. Holding out. Playing him.
She picked up speed. Her hand pumped what her mouth couldn’t take, slick and twisted, matching every downward stroke of her lips. Spit foamed at the corners of her mouth. Her moans grew louder. She was in a zone now, lost in it, filthy and focused. Like she wasn’t sucking his dick, she was devouring it. She adjusted her angle, sliding her other hand to his thigh, gripping it tight like she needed leverage to go deeper.
“Shit… slow down, baby. Damn,” he gasped, trying to hold on, voice shaky and hoarse. His head tilted forward, watching her with wide, stunned eyes. “Where the fuck you learn that?”
She popped off him with a loud, wet gasp, spit stretching in a glossy thread from his tip to her lips. She was panting, flushed, eyes shining. Her chest rose and fell in little quick breaths, but her mouth never stopped moving, tongue lapping at the head like she missed it already.
“Told you,” she whispered, voice all sugar and heat. “I watch videos.”
Then without waiting, she went right back down, deeper than before. Erik’s eyes snapped open. Her throat flexed around the head, her tongue flattened along the underside. Her hand never stopped moving, twisting fast, dragging moans from deep in his chest. He didn’t even realize he was panting until his breath hitched on a curse.
“Fuuuck,” he choked, hips jerking. His thighs spread wider like he needed to open himself up to breathe. His toes curled in his socks. His entire body locked up, a firestorm of pressure building fast in his spine. His shirt clung to him with sweat now, chest heaving. He couldn’t take his eyes off her.
You tryna suck the soul outta me? he almost said, but all that came out was a broken grunt as her tongue did something wild at the tip.
“You tryna suck the soul outta me?” he groaned for real this time, voice rough, desperate. His fingers clamped down on her head, not to force, just to anchor himself. He needed something to keep from floating off the damn couch. She hummed against him in response, like she was proud of the way he was falling apart.
She moaned again, louder, letting the sound roll up his shaft. Her other hand slid lower, cradling his balls, massaging them with the same rhythm. Her throat swallowed around him, and he felt it—every tight pull, every squeeze, every deliberate shift of her jaw. His breath came out in short, hot bursts now, almost helpless.
“Fuck, baby… keep goin’, just like that—don’t stop. Don’t stop,” he rasped.
His head dropped back against the cushion, jaw clenched, eyes squeezed shut. His abs flexed tight, the muscles under his shirt jerking with every slick pull of her mouth. His breathing was wrecked now, uneven, full of curse-laced exhales. His brain was scrambling, trying to connect the sweet girl he held hands with in public to the one now on her knees, tongue lapping up every twitch, every drop like she owned him. She sucked him like she had something to prove. Like she wanted to ruin him. Her pace didn’t let up, her mouth stretched wide, spit bubbling from her lips and running down his shaft.
Every time she pulled back, it was just to suck him in deeper. Wetter. Harder. His thighs were shaking now, the pressure curling low in his gut. His hips bucked, shallow and involuntary, chasing the heat of her throat.
He wasn’t gonna last much longer.
Not with Syn looking like that on her knees, drool on her chin, mouth stuffed full of his dick like it was her only purpose. She was locked in, relentless, using every filthy trick she'd studied behind that sweet face. Her hands worked in tandem with her mouth now, stroking and twisting with a rhythm that was far too practiced to be innocent. She took him deeper, almost to the base, gagging slightly but refusing to let up. Each time she pulled back, it was with purpose, with confidence, with a slick glide of spit connecting her lips to his tip before she swallowed him all over again.
Erik’s breathing turned ragged. His fingers curled tighter in her hair as his legs twitched beneath her, thighs shaking, toes curling tight in his socks. He tried to brace himself, to keep a grip on the unraveling thread of his composure, but she wasn’t letting up. She moaned again, deep in her throat, and it was that sound, that low, needy hum vibrating through him, that cracked his control.
His hips jerked. His stomach clenched. And then he was gone.
He came hard. Soul-snatching, jaw-clenching, full-body shaking kind of hard. His entire body went rigid, his spine arching off the couch like he’d been struck by lightning. Heat exploded through his core, white-hot and relentless, as the orgasm tore through him in waves. His hand flew out, gripping her wrist tight, trying to ground himself while his vision blurred and his mind went blank. His body jolted forward, a harsh, involuntary buck of his hips that made his thighs tremble.
Breath caught in his throat, held hostage by the intensity of it all. His mouth opened but nothing came out at first, just a silent gasp followed by a low, broken curse that scraped from the pit of his chest. His muscles locked, flexing tight beneath his skin, and his abs contracted in stuttering pulses. Each second dragged out as if the release refused to end, as if his body had been saving every drop of tension for this one unraveling. His jaw clenched so tight it ached, and his eyes squeezed shut as the pressure rolled through his body again, this time making his calves twitch, and his toes curl in his socks like he was being electrocuted by pleasure.
And Syn took it all.
Her eyes stayed locked on his face as he came, not a flinch or fluster in sight, just that slow, sultry blink like she was memorizing the moment, soaking in every twitch and every tremor. She didn’t pull back. She kept her lips sealed around him, drinking him in like she’d been starving for the taste. The soft hum in her throat never stopped, even when he bucked against her tongue, even when her throat flexed to swallow.
She rode it out with him, mouth gentle now, coaxing every last drop with tender suction and a few languid strokes of her tongue, like she wanted to savor the way he came undone just for her. When he finally sagged back into the couch, dazed and breathless, she pulled off him slowly, a thin string of spit and something salt-slick stretching between her lips and the head of his dick. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, then her chin, still giggling softly like the whole thing had been some sweet surprise.
Her cheeks were flushed, lips swollen, but her eyes? Clear. Confident. Glistening with pride.
“That was your first time?” he croaked, still trying to catch his breath, still halfway slumped with his hand searching for that damn inhaler.
She gave him a little shrug, smile too damn satisfied. “First time doing it. Not first time watching it.”
Erik was still laid out, shirtless now, one arm flung over his forehead, the other resting on his bare chest, rising and falling with slow, dragged breaths. Sweat clung to every inch of his skin, cooling in the dim light as his heart finally began to settle. His hoodie was somewhere on the floor. His dignity? Probably with it. He stared at the ceiling like it owed him an explanation, like maybe if he stayed still long enough, the room would stop spinning, and his soul would float back into his body.
The TV buzzed low, the screen frozen in a paused scene no one remembered, casting flickers of pale blue across the living room walls. Syn’s breathing was the only other sound—steady, calm, like she hadn’t just brought him to the brink and dragged him over it without flinching. She sat at the edge of the couch now, legs tucked beneath her, looking far too composed for what had just gone down. Her lips were still a little swollen, her cheeks flushed, but her energy? Serene. Soft. The kind of soft that felt practiced, intentional. Dangerous.
She didn’t even look at him right away. She tilted her head back against the couch cushion and stretched her arms overhead like she’d just woken up from a nap, like she hadn’t just reduced him to a gasping, trembling mess. And when she finally glanced over, her eyes sparkled with something innocent, but only on the surface. Beneath that, there was amusement. Mischief. Knowledge. Erik wasn’t sure what she’d unlocked, but he knew damn well she wasn’t done yet.
He groaned, deep and low, shifting just enough to get a better look at her. Muscles sore, breath still uneven. He wasn’t used to being on this side of wrecked. And definitely not from someone who wore bows in her hair and bit her lip when she was nervous. He turned his head and just stared, trying to reconcile the woman in front of him with the one who’d just had his toes curling like a damn teenager.
“Come here,” he muttered, his voice frayed, throat dry.
Syn moved slow, deliberate. She crawled into his lap with that same sweet poise, like she didn’t just take every inch of him and swallow it whole. Her thighs settled warm against his hips, her oversized hoodie ruffling around her legs, and she wrapped her arms lightly around his neck. The contact made him shiver. She smelled amazing, mixed with something that felt like temptation wrapped in silk.
He exhaled, pressed his face into the curve of her neck, and let himself breathe her in. His hands slid over her hips, fingertips grazing bare skin underneath the hoodie. Every inch of her felt like a secret. He swore he could still feel the ghost of her mouth on him, still taste the echo of his own moans in the room.
They sat like that in the quiet, the storm outside reduced to a soft patter against the windows, but the one inside him hadn’t gone anywhere. It still pulsed beneath his skin, still clung to the edges of his bones. She’d broken him open with no effort, peeled him back with just her mouth and her eyes and that devil-smile she was trying to hide behind dimples.
“You not as innocent as you look, huh?” he murmured finally, voice low and teasing, his lips brushing her collarbone.
Syn pulled back just enough to look him in the eye. That smile was back, coy and sweet, but her gaze didn’t waver. She leaned in and kissed his cheek, slow and tender, then let her lips hover near his ear.
“I got more I wanna learn,” she whispered, voice syrup-thick and dipped in sin. “If you’re up for it.”
Erik let out a shaky breath that turned into a rough laugh. His head dropped back against the couch, and he stared at the ceiling again, dazed.
“Shit… I’ma need a recovery period. But yeah, baby. I’m up.”
His hand drifted lower, palm curving around her ass like he was grounding himself again, like he needed to hold on or risk floating off.
She rested her head against his shoulder, tracing small circles on his chest with one finger, and for a long, quiet moment, they stayed like that. Breathing each other in. No rush. No pressure. Just heat and aftermath and the promise of something bigger.
And Syn? Syn giggled softly and kissed his neck, like she already knew.
Class was just getting started.
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