Chris Hartley wearing your underwear by mistake because I said so.
An 8am lecture left him rushing out while you slept. Curled into bed after a special night, to Chris at least. Every piece of him was unsure to what it actually meant between you now.
He's always had such a deep seated fear of rejection words often got left unsaid. Most things, got left unsaid. He wasn't a poet. Not like Mike and his suave moves between every pair of legs. Or Matt holding the door open for every girl, hanging off his arms in awe. No, he was a coward when it came to this. Leaving before you could reject him when you awoke.
His early morning shame and insecurity kicks his feet against pavement. Shifting soft cotton into a wedgie.
Soft cotton.
He's not wearing his boxers. He's not even wearing the right socks. 7:30am and he's tripping over himself to get back to you. To dirty drawers on your floor, -A one more day wear without being gross. Something completely justified between him and Josh as "still sanitary."
Instead he's wearing the floral lace garment he took off you last night. Still coated in your dried release. A fact he's still not entirely confident that you reached. Girls fake it all the time in pornos, not that he watches that stuff. Not often- not at all. Nope. That stuff was full of false love and jizz.
Between you and Chris it was a pity fuck. You felt bad for the guy in Tech following you around campus. The idea of you actually liking a guy like him seemed implausible, there was just no way. Even with the way you looked at him last night.
His own thoughts were flustering him quicker than his feet could carry him. He could only imagine what he looked like to spectators now. Hunched in on himself, speed walking down the street on the verge of an anxiety attack. Many of which you have sat through with him in the past month and a half.
Soft hands guiding his breathing over a failed exam. Sitting with him outside, just being. Soft hands tracing his brow bone in the dark, almost caressing. So soft, like the cotton underwear against his coc-
Getting a boner in public was not on his to do list of today. He had to hurry this up pronto. Focusing on the softness of your underwear wasn't doing him any favors.
It's like his brain had gone haywire. Every moment, every sensation wanted to relive in his mind on repeat. Breast, waist, hips, ass. Even your shoulders, the arch of your neck, the dip of your collarbone-
God, he was being a complete freak even by his standards. Every thought pushing blood until he was sporting a semi outside your complex.
And now inside your complex with a slowly rising, anxiety, insecure, shame fueled erection.