Lust
⤷ professor!bucky barnes x reade⟡.ᐟr summary: You’re a literature student. He’s your English professor — brilliant, composed, and entirely off-limits. But the more you write, the more he notices you. And what begins as admiration quietly unravels into something far more dangerous. word count: 13k ── .✦ WARNINGS: 18+ explicit content, MDNI. angst, smut, anxiety, emotional distress, toxic relationship, potential abusive behaviors & violence, manipulation, curse words, mutual desperation, age gap, dirty talk, petnames, praising & degrading, titty sucking, oral (m receiving), face fucking, slight dacryphilia, fingers in mouth, dry humping, degrading, pussy pronouns, PiV, unprotected sex, rough sex, overstimulation, creampie.
Part Eight | Previous Part | MAIN MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST
It had been weeks.
Weeks since that morning in his kitchen, since the silence that shattered you, since the moment you realized that maybe love wasn’t enough to keep him fighting.
As much as you wished he’d tried for you, wished he’d choose you — he didn’t.
James said it was for the best. That he was protecting you. But that didn't feel like protection. Not when every day you were losing yourself more and more.
You still went to his lectures. You still took your usual seat. But he wouldn’t even look at you. Wouldn’t call on you. Wouldn’t see you. It was like nothing had ever happened. Like everything had been erased.
And god, it broke you. Because you were still sitting there, holding all of it, carrying every memory like glass lodged in your chest, and he… He was pretending you never existed.
You tried to function normally. You really did. You smiled when Sarah dragged you out for coffee after lectures, let Theo ramble about his new obsession with some band, nodded along as if your chest wasn’t caving in every second. Pretended that you were fine. That the ground hadn’t been ripped out from under you.
But inside you were hollow.
You felt dissociated from your own body. Your voice sounded wrong when you laughed. Your reflection didn’t look like you anymore. And every moment of stillness, when everything around was quiet, and you tried to study… you felt empty.
Nights were the worst.
That conversation with James played on loop in your head. You told yourself to forget it, push it down, and just fall asleep. But it always ended the same way — your throat tightened, chest burned, and tears soaked into your pillow.
You cried until exhaustion finally dragged you under. You cried because you couldn’t stop. And then you’d wake up, wipe your swollen eyes, and put on the mask again.
———
3 weeks ago.
Morning at James' apartment.
“We have to stop.”
Your whole body stilled. The words didn’t register at first. Your brain refused to believe them, you tried to translate the syllables into meaning but when they finally hit, it immediately turned into denial.
“No," you shook your head. “No. What…? What do you mean, James? Stop? We can’t—” You took a shaky breath. “We can’t stop. Not after all of this.”
His jaw was tight, his eyes stayed fixed on the floor like if he looked at you, he'd fall apart, and maybe he already had.
“I’m sorry,” he said, voice strained. “I really am but we’re risking too much.”
You stepped closer, trembling. Your voice rose before you could stop it. “So what? You’re just going to end it? Just like that? After everything we’ve been through?”
“It’s not that simple, you know that," he replied trying to soundg firm, although his tone was fraying at the edges, while his eyebrows lowered and pulled closer together.
“It is that simple, James. You either want this or you don’t.”
His wounded gaze snapped to yours for a brief moment and James ticked his jaw, as if you've just offended him.
“You know I want this,” he replied, raising his voice as well. “God, don’t you dare say I don’t want this.”
“Then why are you doing this? Why are you throwing us away?”
“Because it’s not safe anymore!” James finally burst out. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, and you decided to take a step back. “It’s not just our secret now. And if this gets out — if you get hurt — do you think I could live with that?”
Your lips parted for a moment, and unsure what to say, you just shook your head again.
You wished you knew what to say. Wished this conversation never happened in the first place but there was no going back now. Maybe it was your fault. Maybe you shouldn't have told Sarah. Maybe you should have been more careful around Theo. But that didn't matter now. You didn't care about any of this. Neither them, nor yourself.
You cared about James.
And as much as you were aware where his concerns were coming from, it was so fucking unfair. Especially after everything you've been through.
“You think I care about getting hurt?” you hissed, voice cracking. “I care about you. I care about what we have. And you’re standing there acting like it’s something we can just walk away from. Like we haven’t fought tooth and nail to be together."
James ran a hand through his hair and turned away, pacing like he needed to put distance between himself and the wreckage he’d just set on fire.
You watched him, feeling your own heart beating in a broken rhythm, making it harder to even out your breathing. You tried to stand still, to not break down completely, but the silence in the room was heavy — almost unbearable. You had to say something before its weight crushed you completely.
“You told me you loved me,” you whispered, almost chocking on a sob. Your voice was so quiet James could barely hear you.
“I do.”
“Then don't do this. Please, just… stay," you begged, feeling how your own hands tremble.
He didn't answer. The silence came back and it felt as if someone ripped your chest open with a knife.
"James…"
“I don’t want to lose you,” he said eventually, in that soft familiar tone that made it hurt so much more.
You blinked. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, and you stepped toward him. Your legs were wobbly, barely steady beneath you.
“Then fight for me, James.”
He looked down, avoiding your gaze but you caught his glassy eyes before they escaped. His shoulders tensed but that didn't stop you. You extended your hand, reaching up gently with shaking fingers to cup his face.
“Look at me,” you demanded. Your gaze searched his so desperately, it hurt.
And when you thought it couldn't get worse, James flinched from your touch. Just a little but it was enough for you to feel it under your hands.
“Please,” you whispered, voice small. Your thumbs brushed his cheekbones, yet he still wouldn't dare to look at you.
There was a part of you that wanted to give up. A part of you that thought this is pathethic. You're pathetic.
Why are you fighting for something that is so fragile? Something that was unsure from the very begging? Why are you giving your heart on a platter when he clearly doesn't want it?
“Don’t do this. Don’t shut me out…" you tried once more.
James' eyes lifted to yours, And god… that’s when it all broke. Because you saw it there, clear as day — he already gave up.
The grief in his eyes wasn’t from deciding. It was from knowing he’d already decided. He looked at you the same way someone looks at something they love one last time before walking away from it.
He swallowed and leaned just slightly into your hands, barely — just enough to let you feel it, before pulling back. Your hands dropped from his face like they’d lost their place in the world. Like you had just lost the only thing that made you feel alive.
“I’m trying to do what’s right. I'm trying to protect you." he breathed, shaking his head.
You blinked at him again, your voice was barely holding it together. “You’re really doing this…”
His jaw clenched. “I’m sorry.”
You stepped back once, then again. For a second you just stood there stunned. You wrapped your arms tightly around your body, shielding yourself from falling apart completely. Your eyes burned and the first tear slipped down without permission. Then another. And another.
“That’s not fair…” you cried, voice faltering so violently your throat ached.
James froze but you went on.
"That's not fair," you repeated, more firmly now with tears flowing down your face faster, disorting your vision. “You get to say this is for the best… that it’s the right thing to do… and I just have to accept it? After everything? After all the things we said, all the nights, all the I love yous—”
He turned his face away like hearing these words out loud made it worse. But what actually made it worse was seeing you in such condition — so heartbroken and angry. Yet, he still believed he was doing the right thing.
"It wasn't something fake, James. It wasn't some mistake we can undo," you tried reminding him.
"I know," he replied, still not facing you.
You let out another shaky breath, your heart split even more at how defeated he sounded. Your own voice, broken as it was, came out steadier than before as if it was meant to sting.
"You used to write for me." you continued, blinking back another wave of tears. “You wrote poems for me like I was everything. And now you can’t even fight for me.” Your lip trembled and you hated how stubborn you sounded. “I would’ve gone to hell and back for you,” you exclaimed. “I still would. I would drop everything I have just to be with you and you—"
"That's the point!" he cut you off. "I do not want you to do that. I do not want you to ruin your life because of some stupid romance!" his tone was razor-sharp, almost mean but his eyes told another story.
You stilled. "…Stupid…?"
"Yes! "he yelled, causing you to flinch. "Stupid. That's what it is. We are both putting our lives at risk. If this isn't stupid to you then maybe you are just fucking blind!"
The word stupid echoed like a gunshot. It rang in your head, louder than his shouting or your heartbeat. You weren't sure if he said that to push you away or if he really meant that. Either way it was enough for you to realize that no matter what you said, you wouldn't change his mind.
James ran both hands over his face, dragging them down slowly like he was trying to claw the moment away. When he spoke again, his voice was rougher, quieter, but no less final.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I didn’t mean—” He stopped himself, jaw locking hard. “No. Forget it. I did mean it. This is stupid. This is dangerous. And we have to stop before it destroys us both.”
You shook your head, feeling your chest cave in. "Don’t do this." You knew you were repeating yourself. But you were so damn tired and hopeless you didn't know what else to say.
“You need to go,” he said, stepping back, arms crossing his chest. “Right now. Before we make this worse.”
The floor tilted under you. “James…”
“Please,” he whispered. “Just go.”
You opened your mouth, but no words came. You wanted to scream, to hit him, to kiss him until he remembered but all you could do was stand there frozen.
James turned his back to you then, shoulders hunched like he was trying not to break in half. He stared at the wall, anywhere but you. “Don’t make this harder,” he muttered. “Just go.”
———
Present.
You got up a bit earlier today, thanks to the sleeping problems the recent events have brought you.
Waking up was different now. You didn't spend time chattering with Sarah. You'd rather just listen to her and nod along, busy with your own thoughts.
Getting ready was different as well, although maybe not completely. Some days you didn't have the energy to even brush your hair properly. You just put on the first clothes you've found in your closet, and grabbed a random hoodie in case it was cold outside.
It made you feel invisible, and during days where you were supposed to attend James's lecture, that was essential.
But there were also days where like before the whole collapse, you paid extra detail to everything. Made sure your clothes matched, that your make up was flawless, and your hair looked good. You still hoped he'd look at you, so you tried to catch his attention. You didn't want him to just notice you, no. He knew you were there, yet his eyes would never wander anywhere near your direction, and every lecture ended with you failing to receive that knowing look you missed so much.
Today was just another of those days. The roulette drew you'll actually give a fuck about your appearance, since you were up earlier anyways.
You said goodbye to Sarah and left. The walk across the campus was surprisingly long. You dragged your feet unsurely, as if you were walking on thin ice, but honestly it felt more like going to a death trial than to your classes. And maybe it was, since your first lecture of today was with him. You missed him, that part was undeniable, but you were also incredibly mad at him. The man who you so looked up to, the one you loved so much, ended up being so goddamn childish. Fucking unbelievable.
When you finally reached the building, Theo was already there, waiting for you near the entrance.
He barely ever asked you about James. After your confrontation, when Theo told you he knows about your… affair, he didn't really try to dig into the topic.
Maybe he just noticed something's wrong and didn't want to bother you, hoping you'd move on faster this way.
You avoided talking about him as well. Sometimes he'd ask if everything's alright and that was it. Convinent for both of you.
"Hey!" Theo greeted you, looking up and down at you. "You look good," he added casually.
"Thanks…" you replied in a still sleepy tone, and moved past him, while Theo held the door open for you.
The lecture hall buzzed with the soft hum of chatter, keys clicking, footsteps. Same as every week. You two made your way to the class, took your seats, and waited for the lecture to begin.
You sat there, spine rigid, pen poised above paper. You scribbled in your notebook nervously, wishing you knew why lectures with James still stressed you that much. He didn't even care anymore — he wouldn't look at you, let alone ask you a question, so why did your mind spiral into milion possibilities? Why did you still try to have an answer to every what if?
What if he did look at you? What if he did ask you a question? What if he asked you to come to his office hours—
No. That wasn't coming back, and you should've known that by now.
"Did you send that assignment?" Theo's voice cut trough your thoughts, snapping you back to reality.
"What?" you frowned, and shot him a confused look.
"The writing assignment…" he explained, tilting his head at you, and opening his laptop to show you the exact file professor James shared with the class. "The one about analyzing the role of guilt in human behavior. The due was yesterday."
Shit.
You remembered James assigning that over a week ago. You even chuckled under your nose back then, finding the topic very ironic. But to be fair, lately all of the lectures themes felt pretty personal.
Loneliness, indentity perception, morality and survival…And this time he chose guilt.
You actually had worked on it. Between studying for exams, and crying into your pillow. The assignments had started to feel like the last thread of communication between you and James. Although it wasn't so easy to write for him anymore… if you could even call it that.
For some reason, putting your thoughts onto paper felt more vulnerable than before. Not only because of the topics that hit too close to home, but because you didn't get actual feedback from James anymore. You didn't know if he even cares about what you wrote anymore —what emotions you poured into it.
You hoped he did. Some part of you believed he read your works, and understood. Every time, that spark came back only to burn out the moment James handled the assignment back without an additional note. Nothing. Just a grade.
It wasn't any different with this one. You tried your best like always — write the best piece you could with fingers crossed that this work will finally ensure at least a tiny bit of attention from James.
Still, you were sure the due was next week. Not yesterday. So it didn't matter that you almost drove yourself crazy, trying to comprehend the idea of guilt, and why the hell did James choose it as the topic.
Does he feel guilty about your relationship? Does he miss you? Does he regret what had happened, what he'd said?
And what about you? Do you feel guilty? Was there more you could have done? Or maybe you should have fought harder?
"Fuck," you finally responded, with a big sigh, shaking your head.
Wasting time on assignment you didn't send in the end was one thing. The other was facing the consequences of it… and you had no idea what James's reaction would be.
Would he let it pass, simply ignoring your slip-up for the sake of both of you, allowing you to just move on? Or were all your attempts of trying to write something additional notes worthy pointless, and this is what would gain his attention instead?
You zoned out again, different thoughts passed in your head, one by one, until you were brought out of it by the feeling of Theo's hand patting your back.
"Happens to the best of us," he said, smiling lightly, and you tried to return the smile, although it didn't really reach your eyes. "I mean… One bad grade shouldn't hurt you, right?"
"Right…" you huffed, and went back to scribbling in your notes.
Just a few minutes later, the class was filled with students, and finally, Professor James walked in. You tried to stay still and act casual like you didn't care but your gaze drifted to him anyway.
He looked exactly how he always did. Crip shirt tucked in with sleeves rolled up just enought to show the line of his forearms, black trousers, and glasses he sometimes wore were petched low on his nose as he glanced down at his notes, adjusting them with precision.
He got to his desk, set the papers down, and looked around the class.
You straightened in your seat, trying to ease the anxiety building in your chest.
"Good morning," he said, voice even and professional…. distant. "Let's start, shall we?"
You forced your eyes back to your notebook, fingers tightening slightly around your pen as if that could anchor you.
You were pretending. Pretending your chest didn’t cave in every time his voice cut through the room. Pretending his words didn’t drag you back to that morning three weeks ago. Pretending like you weren’t unraveling under the weight of something that once felt like the only thing keeping you alive… and God, you’d gotten so good at it.
Meanwhile James stood at the front with steady tone and unreadable face as he went through the slides. Again, he didn't glance at you. Not even once like he'd made it his mission not to.
You'd thought about changing classes. Sitting in another professor's lectures would make things easier, or at least less suffocating. You could erase the reminders, stop sitting here and act like you weren't breaking down every single time.
But easier wasn't what you wanted.
Easier didn't bring you close to him. Easier didn't let you breathe in the same air or listen to the voice that once whispered poems against your skin. It meant distance that you couldn't bear, and changing classes would feel final.
So you stayed, even though it hollowed you from the inside out.
Beside you, Theo shifted in his seat, shooting you a sidelong look. He probably noticed the way your pen hadn't moved in ten minutes. He didn't say anything, though. You were grateful for that silence, even if it didn't save you from your own head.
Every word James said at the front of the room seemed to blur together after a while, like your mind refused to fully process them. You caught fragments — concepts, theories, academic phrasing — but they didn’t stick.
You didn't even realize when the lecture ended. You started packing instinctively, ready to leave as soon as possible. Theo started talking to you about… something but you didn't listen, too busy gathering your things.
You grabbed your bag, and headed with Theo towards the door, but just as you reached it, a familiar voice stopped you.
"May I talk with you for a second?"
James.
You froze. For a second it felt like the whole room had gone quiet, even though people were still moving around you. Your eyes flicked to Theo who was now watching you with concern written plainly across his face.
You turned around slowly, and you weren't sure what you expected but it definitely wasn't that.
James expression didn't say much, but it was different from what you'd known. He seemed… cold. Angry even? His brows were furrowed in a way they always did when he was annoyed, but you didn't really understand why. And what did it have to do with you?
"Can you… give us a second?" you asked Theo, and he hesitated. His gaze shifted between the Professor and you, and you caught the uncertainty in his eyes.
"You sure…?"
"Yeah," you gave Theo an encouraging smile, and he nodded, leaving you and James alone, even though you could see he wasn't so sure about it.
You swallowed hard, waiting for the rest of the students to leave the room, and when they did, you gathered the courage to meet James's eyes.
"I didn't get your assignment," he said simply, and you hated how casual he sounded, as if you really were never anything more than his student.
Was that really necessary? Did he really need to pull you aside after class just to say that? About an assignment you forgot to send? Did he really avoid you for weeks just to talk to you about something so… small?
You blinked and your grip tightened slightly around your bag strap, but you tried to stay composed despite how difficult James was making it.
"I thought it's due next week. My bad." you said finally, quieter than you meant it to be.
James exhaled through his nose, and looked at you for a moment. His expression didn't change much but his jaw tightened. He crossed his arms over his chest , making the fabric of his shirt pull taut across his shoulders, then sighed.
You actually missed seeing him up close like this — without the safety of rows of seats. You missed him talking to you, but now that same voice was clipped and professional, which stung worse than any outright rejection.
"You thought wrong then," he said evenly. "The deadline was clearly stated in the syllabus and on the shared channel."
You stared at him with heat rising in your cheeks, unable to believe that after three weeks of silence, of him pretending you were just another face in the crowd, he'd pulled you aside just to scold you over an assignment.
"I—" you faltered, trying to find your footing. "I had it written. I finished it days ago. I just… I just have mixed up the dates."
James glanced around the empty classrom as if to make sure no one stayed, and when his eyes returned to you, they seemed sharp.
"You're my best student. You have been since the first month of the semester. This isn't like you. Missing deadlines… zoning out during lectures—“
Oh. So he did see you.
“If you keep slipping like this, your grade is going to drop. Significantly. And I won't be able to do anything about it without it looking like favoritism,” he continued.
That landed like a slap. Your stomach twisted and you blinked at James once.
Favorotisim.
As if what you two had was nothing more than that. As if the times he'd kept you in his office until the building emptied, the messages, the letters, the way he used to look at you like you were the only real thing in his world — all of it could be reduced to some ethical gray area he now had to carefully distance himself from.
"You've got to be kidding me," you said, voice barely above a whisper, but the disbelief bled through. "You're really standing here lecturing me about my grade? After everything? Seriously? Is this what you have to say after three weeks of fucking ignoring me?"
His expression still did not change, but you saw the muscle in his jaw flex again. "This is my job. I'm still your professor. The work needs to be submitted on time, regardless of… anything else."
"Anything else…" you repeated, almost laughing but it came out bitter. Your fingers dug deeper into the strap of your bag until your knuckles ached. "That's what we're calling it now? Anything else? God, James!"
You weren't sure if it was some kind of punishment, or if he really felt so authoritive.
Despite everything, part of you wanted him to drop the act. To lock the door, pull you against him, admit he was just as wrecked as you were, and end up fucking you on his desk. Instead he just stood there in front of you like this was any other professor-student conversation.
"I can't give you an extension," he continued. quieter now but still so damn controlled. "It wouldn't be fair to the rest of the class. Submit it by tomorrow morning and I'll accept it with a late penalty. That's the best I can do."
It felt like he wasn't even listening to what you were saying. You searched his face for any crack in the armor — the softness you used to see when he looked at you. but it wasn't there. Or if it was, he buried it so deep you couldn't find it.
"Right," you said finally, swallowing the lump in your throat. "Because fairness is what matters here. Got it."
You didn't wait for whatever scripted, professional response he'd prepared next. There was no point. Talking to him felt like shouting into the void. Every word you offered just disappeared, swallowed by the wall he'd built between you. Your chest burned with frustration and something close to humiliaton as you turned on your heel, ready to get the hell out of there before you said something you couldn't take back.
You barely made it two steps toward the door. A strong hand closed around your upper arm tightly, almost bruising in its grip and yanked you back with enough force to make you stumble.
The suddenness of it stole your breath for a moment because James had never touched you like that. He had never been rough with you before (or at least in the places that weren't bed), and now he held you in place as if letting you walk away now was simply not an option.
"Don't," he said in a whisper, voice irritated. His breath brushed the side of your face. "Don't waste what you've achieved because of this."
You froze, staring at the way his glasses had slipped slightly down his nose from the abrupt moment. For a second, the heat of his hand on your arm was the only thing you could focus on. Then the words sank in, and the annoyance flared, pushing past the ache.
You ripped your arm free from his grip, ignoring the lingering sting where his fingers had been.
"Do you really think I care about grades right now?" That came out meaner than you intended, but you still trembled with barely contained frustraion and disappointment. "Because I told you, I don't," you continued, voice cracking despite how hard you tried to keep it steady. "I couldn't give less of a fuck about my GPA or that stupid assignment or whatever penalty you're going to slap on it. The only thing I care about is you, James. And you've spent the last three weeks acting like I don't even exist."
Your breath shook as you said it. The truth spilled out raw and ugly in the empty classroom.
And James? He just stood there but you could see his chest rising and falling faster than before. The carefully constructed mask of Professor Barnes began to slip. His fingers twitched at his sides like he didn't know what to do with them now that they weren't holding you anymore.
Then his gaze dropped to your arm, where faint red mark bloomed on your skin, and his eyes filled with regret.
"I'm sorry…" he said quietly. "I didn't mean to— I just— fuck, I'm sorry."
You let out a dark chuckle that tasted like ash in your throat and the sound echoed around the both of you humorlessly. It was all so fucking ridiculous. The man who had once touched you like something precious was now apologizing for handling you too roughly, while still refusing to acknowledge everything else he'd broken.
"Fuck you, James."
You weren't able to wait for his reaction. You didn't want to see if it stung, if it hurt him even a fraction as much as he'd hurt you. You turned away and walked out of the class without looking back, even though your broken heart almost begged you to do it.
———
Later that night, the bar was loud in a quite comforting but blurry way. The music didn't overwhelm you as much as usual, laughter spilling out from other tables wasn't annoying, and the dim amber lighting made everyting feel warmer, which was exactly what you needed. Or at least what you were trying to convince yourself you needed.
You sat at the corner of the bar, nursing what was probably your third (or fourth?) whiskey coke. The ice had mostly melted, watering it down, but you didn't care. You swirled the straw absently, watching the dark liquid swirl.
Theo was next to you, halfway through some story about a disastrous group project from last semester, waving his hands as he talked.
"… and then this guy actually submitted his part with nothing but bullet points. I swear to God, Professor Romanoff looked like she was two seconds away from committing murder in the seminar room." He let out a bright laugh, clearly expecting you to join in, but when you didn't, he glanced over.
"You okay?" he asked, bumping your shoulder lightly. "I know it's probably the third time I ask you this today, but you've been quiet since we got here."
You forced a smile that didn't reach your eyes and took another long sip of your drink. The burn slid down your throat, but it wasn't enough to drown out the echo of James's apology in your head.
"I'm fine," you muttered, voice already a little rough from alcohol. "Just tired. Keep going. What did Romanoff do?"
Theo studied you for a second, since he didn't quite believe you, but he ended up picking the story back up anyway. You let it wash over you, nodding at the right moments, humming in agreeement while your mind kept drifting to James.
You tipped your glass back again, finishing what was left. The bartender caught your eye and you lifted your empty glass slightly in a silent request for another. Theo didn't comment, though his brow furrowed a little.
"You sure you're good?" he asked eventually. "We can talk about something else. Or not talk at all. Whatever you need."
You gave him a half-shrug. The alcohol looseneed the knot in your chest just enough to make everything feel fuzzy.
"I just want to forget today happened," you answered honestly, voice barely audible over the music. "Keep talking, Theo. Please. About anything."
Instead of launching into another story, Theo went quiet for a moment, then he tilted his head at you. The easy smile he'd been wearing all night faded, and he shifted on his stool, turning more fully toward you, elbow resting on the sticky bar top.
"What did Barnes tell you after the lecture?" he asked without pretending everything is fine anymore.
And you did not expect him to ask that so directly. You blinked hard, staring down into your fresh drink as your throat tightened painfully. The tears you'd been pushing down since you left campus were suddenly right there, burning at the corners of your eyes. You swallowed thickly, refusing to let them fall.
"Please, Theo… could you not—" your voice faltered. You shook your head, gripping the glass tighter. "Not tonight."
But Theo didn't back off. He leaned in a little closer, and his face was full of genuine worry. You knew he'd never liked James. He had made this distaste clear even before he pieced together what was really going on between you and the professor, and that dislike was practically radiating off him now.
"I'm not trying to be a dick," he muttered. "But I'm also not gonna sit here and watch you drink yourself into oblivion without saying something. You've been a mess for weeks. And after he pulled you aside today? Come on, what did he say to you?"
You let out a shaky breath, pressing your lips together. The bar noise suddenly felt too loud, and the music that didn't bother you before, now became suffocating. You tried to give Theo a response, but you couldn't even form a proper thought. Everything blurred together.
"No, seriously," he pressed, gentler this time but still insistent. "I care about you. That's why I'm asking. That guy has been treating you like shit. Ignoring you in class, and then grabbing you after lecture like he has any right—" he cut himself off, jaw clenching. "Just tell me what he said. Please. I'm not gonna judge you. I just fucking hate seeing you like this because of that fucker."
Your eyes stung worse. You blinked rapidly, turning your face away so he wouldn't see the tear that finally slipped free. The whiskey and Theo's concern were cracking the fragile wall you'd built up all evening. Part of you wanted to spill him everything — the harsh way James had spoked to you about the assignment as if it fucking mattered, the way he'd grabbed your arm, or his weak i'm sorry that followed,
But you were fucking drained. At this point, even talking about James was exhausting. Maybe that would give you some relief. Maybe finally speaking to someone would make you feel better. But as much as you wished you could find energy for it, you couldn't. So you just shook your head again.
"I don't want to talk about him."
———
Some time later, the whiskey had done its job too well. Everything felt heavy and suffocating as if you were trying to move under water. You had completely lost count on how many drinks you'd had. Your cheeks were warm, your thoughts fractured, and the ache in your chest dulled into a hazy throb.
Theo was still beside you, talking about something you couldn't quite follow anymore, even though he didn't have as much enthusiasm in it as before.
You swayed slightly on your stool, then leaned toward him just to place a clumsy hand on his arm.
"I need… fresh air…" you mumbled, words slurring a little. "t's the alcohol… gonna step out for a minute."
"Want me to come with you?"
You shook your head, already sliding off the stool. "No… I'm good. Just need a second. I'll be back."
Before he could argue, you grabbed your phone and bag and made your way through the crowded bar.
The street outside was much quieter. You leaned against the brick wall, breathing in the night air and trying to clear your head while the rought texture bit through your thin jacket. The alcohol made everything spin gently. You closed your eyes, letting the breeze cool your flushed skin, but your mind wouldn't stop circling back to your problems… or rather one of them. James.
God, you were so angry with him. Angry that he had the nerve to touch you like that after weeks of pretending you didn't exist. Angry that even now, after everything, a single rough grip from him sent your heart racing instead of making you run. Angry that you still wanted him. That some pathetic, lovesick part of you had hoped today's confrontation meant something. That maybe the wall was finally collapsing.
But mostly you were just hurting.
You missed him. You missed James because lately he was the only thing that made sense in this complicated world. You missed seeing him after-hours, and the way his voice changed when it was just the two of you. You loved him, and you knew he loved you back, no matter how many times he'd deny it.
And you didn't only hate the fact that he was now denying his love. You hated how much control he still had over you. One conversation, and you were right back in that spiral-hoping, hurting and hating yourself for still caring this much.
Tears formed at your eyes again. You wiped them away angrily with the back of your hand, smudging whateveer was left of your mascara. All the alcohol loosened everything you'd been trying to so hard to keep locked down. Your chest felt tight, like someone was squeezing it, and it made you remember how upset you actually were.
All of the sudden, your phone buzzed in your hand. The screen lit up, cutting trough the darkness. You expected a message from Theo, asking if you are okay (for a fifth or sixth time this night), or from Sarah, who probably wondered when you'll be back. But your heart slammed against your ribs when you saw his name.
James | 11:47PM are you free?
The message stared back at you for a solid minute, and your thumb hovered there for what felt like forever. What the hell were you supposed to say? What did he even want? And why now, at nearly midnight, when you were drunk, and raw, and standing outside a bar trying not to fall apart because of him.
You hated how quickly your heart betrayed you. That familiar flutter mixed with dread, and that traitourous spark of hope that you couldn't kill no matter how hard you tried, came back as well. You wanted to ignore it, or to type something cutting, something that would hurt him back. But the, bigger, weaker part of you — the one that still ached for him— won.
You | 11:49PM yeah
You typed that one word with shaky fingers, and hit sent before you could overthink it more, then immediately regretted it. The little delievered under your message felt like a trap snupping shut.
"Fuck," you whispered under your breath, pressing the phone against your chest for a second.
What the fuck did he want?
Did he feel guilty about grabbing you? Was this another half-assed I'm sorry that would lead nowhere? Or was he drunk too? Lonely? Making irrational choices because of the percentages in his body just to throw you away again in the morning?
Maybe he wanted to end things for good. Just wanted to make sure you weren't going to cause problems for him.
You stared at the screen, waiting for another message to appear, and the silence stretched around you, making your anxiety worse.
Why did you answer? Why did you always fold when it came to him?
Your phone buzzed again.
James | 11:50PM Can you come see me at my apartment? I want to talk.
The words blurred slightly on the screen as you stared at them, and your heart hammered so heart it felt like it was trying to punch its way out of your chest.
He wanted you to come over. To his place. At this hour.
A million thoughts crashed trough your drunked mind at once. You should say no. Actually, you should tell him to fuck off, and that you are done letting him pull you in and push you away whenever he feels like it. But the truth was, you were also curious what he had to say and what could be the reason he was texting you like this in the middle of the night.
You | 11:50PM okay. i'll be there soon
"Stupid," you sighed, muttering to yourself, eyes stinging again. "You're so fucking stupid."
But you were already pulling up the Uber app on your phone, letting the alcohol, and the ache in your chest making the decision for you.
———
The ride to James's aparment was endless. Or at least that's how it felt like. The Uber driver tried making a small talk about the weather, but you barely responded while your knee bounced restlessly the whole way. The aclohol made your head spin a little every time the car turned a corner, and by the time you stepped out onto the sidewalk, your heart was already racing. You didn't even notice you forgot to take your jacket from the car. You took it off because suddenly everything felt hot, not sure if it was caused by the nerves or the liquor in your body.
You stared up at the building for a long time before forcing yourself inside. The elevator ride was worse — every time you passed by another floor, your stomach twisted tighter and tighter. You caught your reflection in the mirror, and shook your head to yourself, as if you weren't the one to make the decision to come here. You hated how you looked after the entire day, tired from both stress and whiskey but there was no turning back now.
When the elevator doors opened on his floor, you stepped out on unsteady legs. And as you stopped in front of his door, you just stood there, starting at the dark wood with firsts clenched at your sides. Eventually, you knocked. Three quiet, hesitant taps echoed troughout the hall.
You waited anxiously, and when you were just about to knock again, the door finally opened.
Your eyes flicked to James. He looked… diffrent… wrong. He was dressed in casual, black t-shirt, and gray sweatpants. His hair was slightly disheveled. Maybe he ran his hands through it too many times. But it was his eyes that told you something was off. They seemed tired. Red-rimmed almost.
"Hi…" he said gently, as he fidgeted with the door handle, shoulders tensed. James didn't quite meet your eyes at first. His gaze stayed on the floor before he forced it back up to your face. "… Come inside," he swallowed hard, stepping back a bit to let you in.
You stepped inside, the scent of his apartment hit you like a wave —coffee, faint trace of his cologne, and old books. James closed the door behind you with a quiet click, and for a moment the two of you just stood there in the entryway in the very uncomfortable silence.
James' eyes moved over you slowly, taking you in — messy hair, smudged makeup, and the flush that still lingered on your cheeks from the alcohol and the cold night air. Something soft flickered across his face.
"You look pretty," he said quietly.
You let out a sarcastic chuckle that landed bitterly between you. His compliment felt so absurd and out of place after everything, that you couldn't hold it back.
"Seriously?" You stared at him. Disbelief mixed with anger, and already simmered under your skin. "Is this what you wanted to say? You text me in the middle of the night, ask me to come over, and the first thing out of your mouth is you look pretty? Really, James?"
James flinched slightly at your tone. He dragged a hand roughtly down his face, letting out a frustrated exhale.
"Fuck, no—" he shook his head, clearly struggling. "Jesus, I just wanted to be nice. Why are you so difficult?"
"Difficult?" your voice rose, incredulous. "Are you serious right now?"
You took a step back. Your emotions swung wildly between hurt and fury.
"You've been ignoring me for weeks. You treat me like I'm nothing in class. You fucking grab my arm like that today, then text me at midnight saying you wanna talk and when I show up you call me difficult because I won't melt at a hald-assed compliment?" Your hands were trembling. You crossed your arms tightly over your chest, trying to hold yourself together, but all the emotions made it nearly impossible to stay calm. "I shouldn't even be here," you muttered, more to yourself than to him.
"I'm sorry, okay?" James said, voice low and heavy, and he looked fucking exhausted. "I know it's late but I… I just wanted to tell you before you find out from someone else."
Your arms dropped to your sides. The sarcastic demeanor that had been burning in your chest a second ago shifted into confusion. You kept staring at him, searching his face.
"What are you talking about?"
James rubbed a hand over his jaw, then let out a long, tired sigh. He refused to meet your eyes as he spoke.
"I put in a request for tranfer," he said so quietly you could barely hear it. "I've asked to be moved to another university. In a different state. They approved it this afternoon. I'll be gone by the end of the semester."
The words hit you like a punch to the stomach. Your heart fucking dropped. For a moment, everything went silent. You blinked at him, waiting for him to say he was joking, that this was some cruel way of testing you. But he just stood there, looking like the words had cost him something.
"You're… leaving?" you whispered, needing confirmation because of how ridiculous it sounded.
James finally looked at you, and the guilt in his eyes was unmistakable.
"I thought it would be easier," he murmured. "For both of us. If I'm not here… you won't have to sit in my lectures pretending everything's fine."
Your throat tightened painfully. The numbness from the alcohol was cracking, letting the sting of reality bleed through.
He was really doing this. He was choosing to disappear rather than deal with what was between you.
"So that's it?" you whispered, voice shaking. "You're just going to run away?"
James swallowed hard, jaw ticking, and his eyes finally met yours. There was pain in them but also a kind of resolve that terrified you.
"It's for the best," he replied, shaking his head in resignation.
Tears flooded your eyes instantly. spilling over before you could stop them. Your chest heaved with an ugly sob that tore out of you.
"No," you choked out, stepping closer to him. "No, James, please. You can't do this."
He looked startled by the sudden shift, but you just couldn't hold it back anymore and pretend to be tough when you weren't. The tears kept coming, falling down your cheeks.
"Please don't leave," you begged. "Don't tranfer. Don't go anywhere. I can't— I'm sorry I was difficult earlier, I'm sorry, just—… please don't leave me, Jamie…"
You reached for him then. Your fingers curled into the fabric of his t-shirt like it could anchor him here.
You couldn't let him go. The thought screamed inside your head, louder than the pounding of your heart. Even after everything — the silence between you, ignoring you in class, and the cold distance — some stupid, desperate part of you had kept believing you two would find your way back. That the connection you had was stronger than his fear or guilt.
But now? Now he was choosing to disappear completely. To erase every moment between you. There would be no more stolen glances across the lecture hall, no more late-night messages, no more possibility of changing his mind.
It felt like the ground was crumbling beneath your feet.
You looked up at him through blurred vision.
"Please, James" you whispered brokenly. "Don't go."
"I made the decision," he said, his tone firmer this time, like he was trying to convince himself as much as you.
"You keep making the decisions and I don't get a say about this relationship!" you sobbed. "You decided to end things, and now you decided to leave? And what? I just have to accept it?"
You took another shaky step toward him, fingers twisting desperately into his shirt.
"Please, James…. please I'll do anything. I'll let you do anything, please…" Your voice dropped into a broken, pathethic whisper. "You can fuck me, if that's what you want. And we can pretend we never argued, I swear. Please just— just don't leave me…"
The words tumbled out before you could stop them, and as much as you hated how desperate and humiliating they were and how weak you sounded, you meant them.
You were willing to throw away every last shred of dignity if it meant keeping him here. The fear of losing him completely was stronger than the shame. If words couldn't fix this, maybe your body could. Maybe if he touched you again, if he remembered how good it felt, he'd change his mind.
"Please…" you looked up at him trough tear-blurred pupils, still clutching his shirt like a lifeline.
James shook his head slowly, eyes wide with surprise. He genuinely looked taken aback by how far you were willing to go, and for a few seconds he just stared at you, lips parted like he didn't know what to say.
"Don't say that," he murmured, prying your fingers gently from his shirt. "You know it's never been about that."
You let out a humorless laugh.
"Then why are you making it feel like it was always about that?" you whispered, voice thick with tears. "Why does it always come down to you deciding everything? You decided when we started, you decided when we stopped, and now you're deciding to disappear across the country!"
You wiped at your face angrily, but the tears wouldn't stop.
"If it's not about sex, then why are you doing this? Why are you running away instead of trying to fix what we had?" Your voice cracked again. "I'm here begging you to stay, offering you everything I have left, and you're still looking at me like I'm the one who's lost it."
James's jaw clenched. He looked torn between guilt and frustration. His hand hovered near your arm like he wanted to touch you but thought better of it.
"Because it's not fair toward you," he said, voice rough. "I already explained this to you."
"You explained me shit!" you cried, and the words bursted out louder than you intended. Your voice echoed in the quiet apartment, furious through the cries. "You gave me a vague bullshit about guilt and professionalism, then shut me out completely. That's not explaining anything!"
James ran a hand through his hair once more. His eyes were pained, and it was obvious he tried so hard to keep his composure.
"I'm moving because I actually believe you may achieve something," he exclaimed, much steadier now. "I don't want your grades to go down because of me. That's why I asked you today to stay after class. I need you to get yourself together, okay? I'm really trying to make it easier for you, and I know it's difficult now, but in ten years you're gonna thank me."
You stared at him, chest heaving with sobs, completely stunned by how clinical he sounded.
"In… ten years?" you repeated, although your voice choked on it. The number felt unreal. A bitter, tear-soaked laugh left your mouth. "You think I'm gonna thank you for this?"
"I know you will," James said softly, almost confident in his words.
You shook your head. The frantic energy drained out of you all at once. The sobs morphed into shaky breaths, leaving you with nothing but that hollow feeling you've already grew familiar with. The tears kept sliding silently through your cheeks, but the alcohol, and exhaustion from all of this seemed to win over, weighing you down.
"But…" you started. "I don't even care about my education anymore. I just want to be with you."
You took a step closer, even though James continued to stay still. Your eyes desperately searched his face, hopelessly thinking you'll get to see at least a spark of determination in his.
"I could… I could quit college. Or transfer, and study something else… or just drop out for now. It doesn't matter," you sobbed. "None of it matters if you're leaving anyway."
James eyes widened instantly.
"No!" His voice cut through the air like a whip. He stepped forward, and grabbed your shoulders firmly enough to make sure you look at him.
You shouldn't be happy that he was finally touching you, but you were. Even if it was meant nothing, and wasn't the type of touch he used to give you.
"No," he repeated, more forcefully. "Don't you dare say that. You are not throwing your life away because of me. Do you understand? You're fucking brilliant, and you have so much ahead of you. I'm not going to be the reason you give that up."
You knew he was right. It would've been foolish to throw everything away, but you were willing to do that for him. You couldn't accept losing him like this — breaking up while you two loved each other more than anything.
This was something you didn't want to throw away as well.
"When are you leaving?" you asked suddenly, which made James a little taken aback. "When the semester ends?"
He nodded, swallowing hard. "Yeah… After the finals."
"Are there really no way to convince you to stay?" you tried one last time.
"No… I'm sorry." he replied. His gaze softened, and James let out a breath he seemed to be holding for way too long in his chest.
The two of you stood there in silence. The weight of the decision settled between you. No more fighting or begging, just the truth that felt way too final.
"Okay," you whispered finally, although your voice was barely audible.
You looked up at him, eyes still glassy and swollen from crying.
"Do you still love me?" your voice came out small and trembling.
James sighed, closing his eyes for a second like he couldn't believe you were really asking him that. When he opened them again, there was so much hurt and affection in his gaze it almost broke you all over again.
"Of course I do," he whispered. "I wouldn't be doing this if i didn't love you, baby."
You weren't sure if it was the confession or the petname that shattered you. A fresh wave of tears escaped your eyes. Not frantic like before, but calmer like grief that came from finally understanding.
He loved you. He was still leaving, but he loved you, and that contradiction hurt worse than anything.
James stepped forward without hesitation, and pulled you into his arms.
You collapsed against him, burying your face in his chest, and soaking the front of his black t-shirt with your tears.
His arms wrapped around you tightly. One hand cradled the back of your head while the other rubbed slow, comforting circles along your back.
"It's okay," he murmured into your hair, pressing a gentle kiss to the crown of your head. "Shh, it's okay, baby. I've got you."
His warmth surrounded you. You stayed in his arms for a long time, letting him heartbeat ground you. You clung to him impossibly tighter, and your fingers fisted in the fabric, wishing you could memorize the way he felt against you.
James's chin rested atop of your head as you cried quietly into his chest. Every few moments, he placed another soft kiss in your hair, and kept repeating words that were supposed to soothe you.
You pulled back just enough to look at him, and your eyes met, making the air between you shift.
James's right hand came up slowly, cupping your tear-streaked face. His thumb brushed gently across your cheek, wiping away some of the wetness. His touch was so tender, and caring, you had almost forgotten what it is like.
Your gaze stayed locked on him as you leaned in with lips parted slightly. You pressed a soft, trembling kiss to his mouth. Just a gentle peck that was barely there, but full of desperate longing.
James pulled back an inch, breath warm against your skin. He didn't step away, but you could feel the hesitation in him.
"Please—" you whispered, voice breaking.
"Babe…"
"Please, I—" another sob slipped out. "Please let me have you… I will never ask you to stay again. I won't try to change your mind. Please, just don't leave ne like this."
The words hung between you. You were begging again, but this time it was different — a plea not for forever, but for right now.
James exhaled shakily. His thumb brushed another tear from your cheek, then he gently tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers lingered against the side of your face, and you saw the exact moment his resolve cracked.
He gave in.
He pulled you in, and kissed you deeply. His mouth moved against yours with hunger that had been buried for weeks. One hand still cupped your face, while the other slid to your waist, drawing your body flush against his.
Your hand moved up his chest, clutching his shoulders, then tangled desperately in his hair as you pressed yourself harder against him.
The kiss turned fierce, messy, and breathless — weeks of heartbreak pouring out all at once.
You kissed him so hard and long that your lungs started to burn, but you didn't care. You wouldn't dare to pull away from him, even for a second.
A low sound rumbled in James's chest. His grip on you tightened almost painfully as the restraint he'd been clinging to finally shattered.
He couldn't wait any longer. His hands moved frantically over you, sliding under the hem of your shirt before attacking the buttons. He yanked at the fabric, nearly ripping the buttons off in urgency.
One popped free and bounced somewhere on the floor. You gasped into his mouth as cool air hit your skin with every button he tore open.
"Fuck—" he muttered against your lips, voice wrecked.
Your shirt fell open, and his hands were immediately on your bare skin. Warm palms glided up your sides, over your ribs, and his thumbs brushed the undersides of your breasts.
He kissed you again, walking you backwards until your back met the wall with a soft thud, and his body pressed into yours.
You moaned into the kiss, arching into his touch, and kissing him back with everything you had left. Your tongues danced, and teeth grazed, while your breaths mingled in little gasps.
Your own hands drove to his his t-shirt, desperate to feel him too. You pushed it up, and James lifted his arms to help you. You yanked the fabric over his head, tossing it somewhere behind you.
His bare chest was exposed to you now. God, how you loved seeing him like this — vulnerable, and all yours.
A broken sound left your throat as you ran your hands over his skin, tracing the familiar lines of muscle.
James groaned at your touch. His hands slided around to your back so his fingers could find the clasp of your bra. He undid it with ease, and pulled the straps down your shoulders. The bra joined his shirt on the floor.
"I missed you so much…" he breathed against your mouth, rough and honest. It hit your straight in the chest.
James didn't even give you time to think or respond. His head dipped instantly, mouth latching onto your breasts.
A sharp moan escaped you as his lips closed around your nipple, sucking before his tongue swirled over the sensitive peak. At the same time, his large hand cupper your other boob, squeezing it possesively. Thumb brushed over it in time with his mouth.
Your head fell back against the wall. Your fingers threaded through his hair, holding him to you. Every flick of his tongue sent heat that rushed through your body straight to your core.
"James—" you whimpered, and he just hummed against your skin, then switched sides, giving your other breast the same devoted attention.
James gave one last slow suck before he pulled back. His lips were red and glossy as he straightened up. Without a word, he surged forward again, capturing your mouth in another consuming kiss.
Then, in one smooth motion, he scooped you up into his arms. You wrapped your legs around his waist as he carried you down the short hallway to his bedroom, not breaking the kiss until he lowered you onto his bed.
You met the silky sheets, and James crawled over you, his body caging yours. The weight of him was both grounding and overwhelming.
His gaze dragged down your body slowly before his hands moved to your skirt. He hooked his fingers into the waistband and tugged it down your hips and legs in one swift pull, tossing it aside.
You were in nothing but your panties. Your chest rose and fell rapidly as you looked up at him, waiting for his next move.
James hovered above you, one hand braced beside your head. The other traced slowly down your side, then over the curve of your waist, then your hip.
"Look at you…" he breathed. His eyes were heavy-lidded, and filled with desire.
His hand moved down your body. Calloused palm glided over your stomach, and then your thigh. He firmly pushed your legs apart, spreading you just a little wider for him. His gaze dropped down as his finger hooked into the side of your panties, pulling the thin fabric aside.
"There she is," he murmured through a shaky exhale. "So nice and wet for ne already."
His thumb brushed slightly along your slick folds, admiring how glistening and puffy you were.
The touch was light but it still sent a jolt of pleasure through you. You whimpered, and your hips twitched toward his hand instinctively.
James's jaw clenched like he was trying to hold himself back, but his eyes were burning as he watched his own fingers tease you. He dragged his thumb up to your clit, circling it slowly, and spreading your wetness.
Then, his index finger moved lower, till it hovered at your entrance. He traced the opening lightly, pressing just the tiniest bit against it without pushing inside.
"Yes!" Like that— please!" you gasped, hips bucking desperately toward his hand.
James let out a dark, low chuckle that sent shivers down your spine.
"You think I'm gonna give it to you so easily?" he murmured, voice dripping with heat.
Before you could beg again, he pulled his hand away completely. You whimpered at the loss but the sound barely left your lips before his fingers tangled in your hair. He gripped tight, making your scalp tingle, and guided you up onto your knees on the bed.
You followed obediently with a shaky breath.
James stood up from the edge of the bed, towering over you now. His free hand worked quickly, unzipping his pants and shoving them down along with his boxers.
His hard and heavy cock sprang free. The tip glistened already, making your mouth water. The sight sent another rush of heat through your body, pooling low in your belly.
James kept his hand fisted in your hair, holding you right where he wanted you. His thumb brushed over your bottom lip while his eyes fixed on your mouth with lustful intensity.
"Mmm… open wide for me."
You did instantly. You parted your lips, and looked up at him through your lashes. The moment your mouth opened, James guided the head of his cock past your lips, slowly pushing inside.
The thick tip stretched your mouth as he fed it to you. It felt heavy against your tongue, and the salty taste only encouraged you to take him deeper.
He let out a deep, guttural moan. His fingers tightened in your hair as he watched himself disappear between your lips.
"That's it… just like that, baby," he breathed, pushing a little depeer — just the tip and the first couple of inches now, letting you adjust to the weight of him on your tongue. His hips flexed forward in a shallow movement, savoring the warmth of your mouth. "Keep going, princess."
You moaned around him, and the sound vibrated through his cock. Tears from earlier mixed with fresh ones of overwhelm as you took him eagerily, hollowing your cheeks and swirling your tongue around the head.
James's hand came down to cup your jaw, thumb stroking your cheek as he slowly rocked into your mouth.
"Yeah… S'good, I almost forgot what wonders your mouth can do," he praised, and the tenderness in his voice clashed with dominant grip in your hair made you drool all over his lenght. Saliva dripped down your chin as you worked him.
You were so fucking horny you couldn't wait any longer.
The ache between your legs had become unbearable. Your cunt was throbbing so hard it hurt. So while your mouth was full of him, you started grinding against the sheets underneath you.
Your hips rolled shamelessly, seeking any kind of friction against your soaked panties. Soft, needy whimpers resonated around his cock as you humped the bed like you'd lost all the control.
James noticed, and a breathless chuckle escaped his mouth as he looked down at you.
"Oh, poor thing…" he murmured, almost mockingly sweet. "Couldn't wait?"
You barely responded with a muffled "Mhm", when James slammed harder into your mouth, thrusting deeper, and hitting the back of your throat with more force. You gagged slightly around him. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but instead of pulling away, you took it.
You moaned louder, and your hips grinded faster against the mattress as he fucked your mouth with measured but rough strokes.
"You missed that cock, huh?" he groaned. "Take it deeper, baby. I know you can."
You did, and James's hips snapped forward again, using your mouth exactly how he needed. The obscene, wet sounds filled the room, mixing with your gagging, and his low, broken grunts.
He suddenly slowed, still buried deep inside your mouth, and looked down at the way your hips were frantically grinding.
"You're not gonna cum like that, are you?" he asked, voice laced with amusement.
His eyes dropped between your legs to the obvious wet spot you were creating on his bedding as you desperately humped the mattress.
"Look at the mess you've made… so fucking needy you're trying to get off on my sheets while I fuck your throat," he coeed.
You whined around him, while your hips still twitched helplessly.
James let out a low chuckle, and finally pulled his cock out of your mouth with a wet pop. Strings of saliva connected your swollen lips to the veiny shaft for a moment before breaking.
You gasped for air, lips shiny and parted, staring up at him with teary eyes, while his still hard cock glistened right in front of your face.
"Please… Jamie—"
"Please what, sweetheart?" he murmured, running his thumb again over your lips and smearing your spit. "I wanna hear you beg for it."
He didn't really give you a chance to beg. His fingers left your hair and moved to your mouth. Two thick digits pushed past your lips, gliding over your tongue, and straight down to your already sore throat.
You gagged instantly around them, and new tears formed in your eyes as he pressed deeper, holding them there.
"Beg," he repeated, slowly fucking his finger in and out of your mouth.
You moaned pathetically around his fingers. More saliva dripped down your chin as you tried to speak, but the words were barely audible.
"P-please… please fuck me," you choked out. "I beg, please—need you— inside me—"
James smirked, clearly satisfied, then pulled his fingers out. "That will do," he soothed. "Good girl."
Before you could catch your breath, James pushed you back onto the bed with his firm hands.
Your back hit the mattress, and he crawled over you again, knees bracketing your hips. His eyes were dark, almost feral as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties and dragged them down your legs.
He sat back on his heels for a moment, staring down between your spread thighs.
"Fuck…" His hand smoothed up your inner thigh as he took in the sight of your soaked cunt. "She's literally crying for me, baby…"
He picked up your panties in the other hand, and held them up for you, showing you the dark, wet patch you'd left behind on the discarded fabric.
"All this for me?" he asked, voice dripping with sarcasm, while he inspected your sopping underwear for a moment before dropping it somewhere on the bed.
Then, he ran two fingers through your folds again, making you jolt, and spreading all that slickness over your swollen clit. "You're fucking dripping down your thighs. So desperate for my cock you made a mess out of yourself."
You whimpered, and your hips lifted of the bed, chasing his touch.
James wrapped his hand around his cock, stroking himself once as he shifted fully between your spread thighs.
The thick head of his cock nudged against your cunt. He rubbed it up and downly slowly, teasing your clit with every pass.
"Jamie— please, I can't take it much longer" you whimpered, as your hips tried to push up.
Without saying amything in response, James gripped your hip harshly and thrust forward. He buried himself to the hilt inside you, stretching you open so suddenly and so deeply that your back arched off the bed with a cry that left your mouth. It bordered on pain, but the pleasure crashed over it almost instantly.
There was no time to adjust. The sheer size of him burned in the best and most overwhelming way possible. You felt every inch and vein as he bottomed out completely until his own hips were flush against yours.
"Fuck—" James hissed through clenched teeth. His forehead dropped to your shoulder, and his wholy body trembled with the effort of staying still inside you so deep you could feel him pulsing against yours spongy walls.
Your nails dug into his back as your body struggled to accommodate him, clenching and fluttering wildly around his cock.
It seemed like James didn't mind. Instead, he pulled back just slightly, and slammed back in, setting a deep thrusting rythm right away.
You moaned and whimpered helplessly beneath him while your body writhed uncontrollably. Your hips bucked, and legs shook as they tried to wrap tigher around him.
James's hand slid up from your hip, and moved to the back of your head. He grabbed a fistful of your hair, and gripped it firmly to anchor you in place.
"You're so squirmy, baby," he growled against your ear, still driving into you. "Stay still for me."
The command delievered in that deep authoritative tone while he fucked you so well, made you moan even louder. The sound tore out raw of your throat.
Fuck, you had almost forgotten — or maybe forced yourself to forget — how fucking good he was in bed. How he could completely undone you with nothing but his words.
His cock continued to hit that perfect spot inside you, making your eyes roll back.
"James— fuck— Jamie—"
"You like it when i pull your hair, don't ya?" he chuckled darkly, giving your hair another confident tug that made your scalp tingle.
You nodded frantically through the building bliss, completely unable to form words.
The first orgasm crashed through you without warning. Your whole body seized up, and your back arched off the bed as a broken cry escaped your lips. Your walls clenched hard around his cock. Pulsing waves of pleasure washed over you, leaving your thighs shaking uncontrollably around his hips while he kept fucking you through it, never slowing down.
"That's it, baby," he groaned. "Good girl. Let go for me."
Your orgasm dragged on, milking his cock with creamy white release around the base with every stroke. The wet, messy sounds between your bodies grew louder — slick and obscene.
James looked down to where your bodies where connected, eyes fixed on the way your pussy stretched around his thick cock, and coated him more and more.
"Fuck, just look at that… You really needed this, huh?"
"Mghhh—" you winced, half hazy from the high you've just experienced.
"Don't whine, baby," he murmured, voice low. "You can take a bit longer."
James leaned down to capture your mouth in a messy, possessive kiss that also shut you up for a moment, while the overstimulation took over the ecstasy.
But even muffled against his lips, you couldn't stop the involuntary whimpers, and hitched breathing. The sounds poured out of you, as the pleasure became too much.
James pulled back just enough to look at you, and a wicked little smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"Shh, baby…" he whispered. "My neighbors are going to hear you… unless you want that, little slut."
Before you could respond, James pounded harder into you, making you yelp. Then he brought his thumb to your mouth, pressed it past your lips and onto your tongue.
You instinctively closed your mouth around it and started sucking, eyes fluttering shut as you tried (and failed) to quiet yourself. The added fullness in your mouth helped to silence the sounds, turning them into little whimpers.
"That's better," he praised softly, punishingly rocking into you. "Suck on it like a good girl you are. Keep that pretty mouth busy so everyone doesn't hear how well I'm fucking you, yeah? I know you can do that, baby. I know it's been a while since my office hours, but you're a pro now, aren't you?"
He pressed his thumb deeper, making you gag once, and you moaned around his digit, lost in the taste of his skin.
"I know you're tired," he whispered, rough and affectionate. "I'm almost there, baby."
His movements started to lose their rythm, turning sloppy and desperate as he chased his own release. James's hips snapped forward harder, until his balls slapped against your butt. He pulled out his thumb out of your mouth, only for both of his hands to slide down and grip your hips, holding you in place for him.
"Oh, fuck—" he groaned, eyes squeezing shut for a moment. "I'm so close, sweetheart."
His thrusts were erratic. James's cock swelled inside you as he fucked you with raw need, until he slammed into you one final time, and stayed there, buried to the hilt.
Hot, and thick cum flooded your cunt, making you moan loudly, while James eventually grinded against you, emptying himself as his cock throbbed with the force of his release.
"Oh— fuck—" he gasped against your neck, and his arms wrapped around you, crushing you against his chest as he rode out the intensity of it all.
The feeling of him coming so hard inside you made you clench around him once more, sending another smaller orgasm through you. You milked every last drop of his seed while tears of pleasure slipped slowly down your face.
For a long moment, neither of you moved — clearly spent, panting, and trying hard to catch your breaths. James stayed buried inside you, not daring to pull out just yet.
Eventually, you looked down between your bodies, drawn by the warm sensation from between your legs.
Ring of cum had formed around the base of his cock. It leaked out slowly, and dripped down your folds, and onto the sheets. James followed your gaze, letting out a low, shaky exhale at the sight.
After another few moments, he finally pulled out of you with a wet pop. A fresh gush of his cum spilled from your used hole, and ran down your thighs.
He watched it for a moment, almost mesmerized before lifting his eyes to yours, then kissing the crown of your head.
"I missed you so much…" he whispered, and his voice was now cracked with emotion — not a bit of playfulness left. His hand came up to gently brush your cheek. "God, I missed you so fucking much…"
"I missed you too," you whispered, looking up at him with big, glossy eyes — still wet from everything that had just happened.
For a moment, the only sounds in the room were your mingled breathing, and the distant hum of the city outside. James stayed hovering over you, and his forehead pressed slightly against yours.
You hadn't felt so loved in so goddamn long. You had almost forgotten what it's like. But as much as you wanted to stay in this moment, you knew it's not eternal.
"James…?" your voice came out smaller than you intended it to be, and your gaze tried to find his.
"Yeah?" he panted, looking back at you.
You swallowed hard. Your fingers began to trace absent patterns on his back nervously.
"We should keep seeing each other."
James pulled back slightly, brows furrowing. "You just promised—
"I know," you cut him off quickly, and your hand moved to rest against his chest reassuringly. "I know what I said. I mean… We should keep seeing each other until you leave. Make the most out of it. Please…"
He stared down at you for a long moment, searching your face. Part of him knew this would only make things harder. But the other clearly didn't want to let you go either. His jaw clenched and unclenched as he wrestled with himself.
Finally, he let out a defeated breath, and nodded slowly.
"Okay…yeah," he murmured. "Until I leave."
sophie's note: ekhem, ekhem! does this thing work? 🎤… anyways! here it is… long awaited, and probably most popular fic on my blog! i wanted to sincerely apologize for the wait, and also thank you guys for being so patient with me. all the inbox messages, comments, and questions about this series really encouraged me to write it, and i’m sure this chapter would not came out if not your support. so once again, thank you. for my excuse, i can only say i was on a big writing block + i had no idea where to go with this story, and when i eventually thought of something, it wasn’t it… but in the end, i’m really proud of how this part turned out. the series will continue, and I will not have you waiting this long, again. i promise, and if i lie… burn me at the stake. i mean it. so yeah! i hope this little bit of this little bit of that ahh chapter satisfied you. i’ll appreciate every thought & comment you have to share, either under this post, or in my inbox 🤍 take care, i love you xx
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