MINORS DNI
NOTES: okay. So. I haven’t watched season 2 yet. But this idea has been stuck in my head and I needed to write it so
Thinking about smoking with Greg. Swirling smoke gleams through the pooling yellow sunlight that comes in from your dorm window, the bed dipping beside you where he lays back with his arm perched behind his head. You’re pushing into his side, laughing so hard your sides begin to ache, while his own lips turned up into a wide grin, untameable in the hazy glow of the evening light and the warmth of his high that spreads from the top of his head to the tips of his fingers.
He’s good at making you laugh and even better at convincing you of any and everything, “You know I should be studying right now,” you murmur through another drag, gloss coming off on the filter of the blunt he rolled just for you two. And he hums, taking the burning filter to place it onto his lips, tasting the fruity lipgloss you smothered on earlier, “You’d really rather be studying right now? What, my weeds not good enough for you?” He teases, blowing the smoke across your face, making you grin. “It’s too good—shit, I’m fucked up,” you can’t finish because you start laughing again, covering your face with your hands, the giggles coming through cracked fingers. He smiles, peeling your hands away, “No, no come on, you can’t quit on me yet, we’ve still got half of this shit left. Don’t wanna smoke the rest without you.”
“Well, what do you wanna do?” you giggle, glassy eyes blinking back up at him as he props himself up beside you. Blonde hair curls across his forehead, blue eyes sweeping over you; the swell of your chest rising and falling, the sunshine that cascades in shadows and light over your face. “I have an idea,” he says suddenly, eyes flickering over your face. “You trust me?”
You stop smiling when he settles in between your legs, thick arms caging you in between on either side of your body. Your skin is burning, heart rushing, suddenly underconfident as Greg hovers over you, blonde curls sweeping across your forehead as he presses your thighs to hug his waist, knees pressed up under the backs of your thighs, “Okay, this is still okay, right?” you shake your head so quick you think it might snap and roll off, “No, no, it’s still okay. Just…different.” He smiles, picking up the joint from the ashtray you both set off beside the bed and looks down at you with a reassuring grin, “Just like I told you, alright? Just have to breathe it in,” he says, “Trust me, it’s gonna feel good.”
You’re still a little out of it when his hand cups your chin, directing you into a tentative kiss, smoke blowing in from his mouth to yours, and you inhale just like you told him you would. When he pulls back he smiles down at you, so proud, “See? That’s it. Feel good?” you nod and after your lips press to his again and you inhale just like you did before, you subconsciously push to press your lips to his more firmly, forgetting the initial purpose of this, and he immediately hooks his fingers into the crook of your knee and presses against you completely.
The high that had already settled relinquishes all possibility of restraint, panting into each other's open mouths while your tongues slide against one another in a spit slick kiss. Your tongues tangle sloppily, unconsciously grinding to feel some sort of friction that quickly turns to desperate humping, suddenly all too concerned with using the other to get off. Greg’s strong arms wrap around your middle, pulling you up into him, practically lifting your entire body off the bed to press against him. His hips hunch to thrust his clothed cock against your covered pussy, a sharp gasp leaving your lips when the outline of his dick presses the seam of your pants against your clit, “Fuck—look at you. You’re gonna let me fuck you, right? Please say you’re gonna let me fuck you—shit,” he pants, hips rutting into yours. “Just for a minute—only fuck you for a minute. Or longer or—fuck, however long you want.”