𝒂 𝒃𝒆𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒄𝒂𝒏’𝒕 𝒘𝒊𝒏
summary: you and trevor have been rivals since the day you met. one night, he decides to test just how far your mouth can run… and how fast he can shut you up.
warnings: explicit smut (18+), enemies-to-lovers tension, oral (m receiving & f receiving), dirty talk, praise/degradation mix, possessiveness, language
You have always hated Trevor Zegras.
Okay hate might be dramatic, but whatever. Point is: the two of you can’t be within ten feet of each other without the chirping starting, without Trevor giving you that stupid smirk that makes you want to fight him or kiss him or both.
Tonight is no different.
You’re at a mutual friend’s apartment for a small get-together, leaning against the kitchen counter with a drink when Trevor strolls in like he owns the place. Backwards hat, grey hoodie, cocky grin.
He sees you instantly.
“Didn’t know they let you in,” he says, grabbing a water bottle from the fridge.
You don’t bother to look at him. “Someone had to raise the IQ of the room.”
“Right,” Trevor says, stepping closer, “because you totally don’t get flustered every time I breathe in your direction.”
You scoff. “You wish.”
He tilts his head, studying you — really studying you and your stomach flips. His voice drops, lower, rougher.
“Yeah,” he murmurs, “I do.”
Your fingers tighten around your drink. You weren’t prepared for that. For him, looking at you like he’s imagining things he shouldn’t say out loud.
You swallow. “Trevor—”
“Come here,” he says quietly.
You freeze. “Why—”
“Because you’re all talk,” he says, stepping into your space, “and I want to see what happens when I call your bluff.”
And he knows exactly what he’s doing.
Your breath stutters, but you don’t move. So Trevor does one hand braced beside your hip on the counter, the other curling around your waist, tugging you forward until your chest bumps his.
“You gonna tell me to back off?” he murmurs. “Or are you gonna finally admit you like when I get this close?”
“I don’t—”
He laughs softly. “Liar.”
Then he kisses you.
Hard.
Your back hits the counter as his mouth claims yours urgent, hungry, like years of tension snapping all at once. You gasp, and he takes advantage immediately, tongue sliding against yours in a way that steals every thought from your skull.
His hands are everywhere — your waist, your hips, your jaw pulling you closer until you’re pressed completely against him.
You break for air. “Trevor—someone could walk in—”
He smirks. “Then guess we should take this somewhere else.”
He grabs your hand, tugging you down the hall until you reach a quiet guest room, closing the door with a soft click before caging you against it.
“Still wanna pretend you don’t want me?” he asks, thumb brushing your lower lip.
You glare. “You’re the most annoying—”
“Yeah, yeah,” he interrupts, leaning in until his lips graze your ear. “And you’re dripping for me.”
Your knees nearly buckle.
Trevor grins like he felt it.
“Take your clothes off,” he says, stepping back only enough to watch.
You’re not giving him that satisfaction.
“Make me.”
His eyes darken. “Gladly.”
He’s on you in seconds lifting your shirt, kissing down your stomach, kneeling in front of you like he’s starving. His hands grip your thighs, dragging you toward the edge of the bed.
“I’ve wanted this,” he murmurs, mouth hot against your skin, “so fucking long.”
“Trev—”
He pulls your underwear down with slow, teasing fingers. Then his tongue is on you.
You gasp loud as he licks a long, slow stripe up your heat.
“Fuck,” you choke.
“That’s right,” he smirks against you. “Say my name.”
His mouth works you over, devastatingly good tongue circling your clit, lips sucking, fingers sliding into you like he’s memorizing every reaction. You grip his hair, head tipping back.
You’re close. Too close.
“T-Trevor, I—”
“Come on my tongue,” he says, voice dark. “Be good for me.”
You fall apart instantly.
He holds you through it, letting you ride his mouth until you’re shaking, overstimulated, boneless.
When he climbs up your body, his lips shiny, pupils blown wide, you could melt.
“You taste unreal,” he whispers, kissing you slow and deep. “Now lie back.”
You do.
He strips quickly shirt, jeans, boxers and your mouth goes dry because he’s big. And he knows you’re staring.
“Yeah?” he grins. “Still gonna talk shit?”
You tug him down by the neck. “Shut up and fuck me.”
His breath catches then he lines himself up and sinks into you with a groan so low it vibrates in your spine.
“Jesus—” he breathes, forehead dropping to yours. “You feel… fuck.”
He sets a ruthless pace, hips snapping into you with every stroke. You cling to him, nails digging into his shoulders as he fucks you like he’s been waiting for this forever.
Your moans mix with his— messy, breathless, needy.
“You’re mine,” he mutters against your throat, kissing, biting. “Say it.”
You don’t. You can’t.
He thrusts harder. “Say it.”
“Trev—”
His hand slides to your throat, gentle but claiming. “Say it.”
You break.
“I’m yours,” you gasp. “Fuck—Trevor, I’m yours.”
He groans loud and drives into you deeper, desperate, lost in you.
You come again, shaking around him, dragging him right over the edge with you. He buries himself inside you with a loud, broken moan, collapsing against your chest as he spills into you.
You stay like that for a minute — breathing hard, bodies tangled, his face pressed against your neck.
Then he lifts his head just enough to smirk.
“So…” he pants. “Still hate me?”
You roll your eyes, pulling him in by his hoodie strings.
“Shut up,” you whisper, kissing him again.
Trevor smiles against your mouth.
“Yeah,” he murmurs. “Didn’t think so.”
