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You hunched over the table, your attempts to knuckle down thwarted by the boredom that had the afternoon dragging. Your headphones weren’t enough to drown it out, the music offering no reprieve from the suffocating weariness of the afternoon.
Two long tables ran parallel down the section of the library, littered with study items that were presently being used for anything but. Books, papers, laptops open with empty Word documents. You tried to focus on your task, but the attempt was in vain. The notepad beside your computer had become a sanctuary for scrawlings of semi-developed narratives. Unlikely to be fleshed out any further, and forgotten when your notebook inevitably got tossed at the end of the school year.
You huffed, leaning back in your seat and tossing one leg over the other. “Fuck this.”
“I’m so done with today.” Pieck had her whole torso flat on the table, eyes barely open. “Are you working this weekend?”
“I have a shift on Sunday.”
Pieck let her pen drop, and her forehead rested on the table. You grunted, agreeing with her sentiment. This was torture.
Generally, library sessions had the tendency to devolve into anarchy. Instead, the place was quiet, everyone slugging through the final session of the week with the last of their energy.
You picked up your pen, deciding to try and add some notes to one of the ideas that you had jotted down. It wasn’t history, but it was a final, desperate endeavour to entertain yourself. You managed to scribble a few words, all of them random. With any luck, they could turn into something more.
You seriously doubted it.
You leant over, about to whisper something in Pieck’s ear, and felt a soft smack against your back. Looking over your shoulder, you saw the paper, scrunched into a tight ball. Eyes searched the table opposite, trying to find the culprit.
It didn’t take long.
His eyes were cast downward, focused on his book with a pen in his hand. But the smirk was there.
You turned your attention back to your own work. Chin tucked into your chest, you continued to write, adding arrows and notes and quotes, and -
Another paper ball hit you, this time in the back of the head. On reflex, you scooped the ball up, and hurled it back to where it came from, and hit Porco in the face. His expression switched, spooked from the ball hitting him, and then it grew into a smug grin, lips curling upward upon finally achieving a rise out of you.
“Don’t.”
You turned back to Pieck. “He fucking started it!”
“Just ignore him.”
You opened your mouth to argue, and as if on cue, another paper ball struck you in the side of the head. You closed your eyes, drawing a deep breath in through your mouth, and out through your nose.
“(F/N),” she warned, “Ignore him.”
Eyes still closed, you nodded. “I need to take five.”
Your only hope was to physically remove yourself from the presence of your antagoniser, and find solace amongst the shelves of books.
You began to peruse the shelves furthest from where your class was sitting, your fingers danced across the spines of books. Selecting a random one, you pulled it from the shelf. Absent-mindedly, you flipped through the pages, skimming the diagrams and pictures.
You heard footsteps approaching, muffled by the ugly brown carpet. You sighed, and felt your blood pressure skyrocket, irritation washing over your body in a swift, sudden wave that had your jaw clenching. Gritting your teeth, you tried to focus on the book.
“What’s wrong (N/N)?” Your fingers gripped the book tighter, the mere sound of his voice enough to get your blood boiling. “It’s Friday, surely you’d be in a better mood.”
“No such thing as a good mood when you’re around, Pock,” you snapped.
He bristled at the nickname, but he pressed on, not missing an opportunity to poke the bear. “Come on, we’re just having fun.”
“It’s fucking annoying.”
He pouted. “Aw, (N/N).”
Your nostrils flared, and you tilted your head back to stare at the ceiling. “What do you want, Pock?”
“What are you doing this weekend?”
“I’m working, now go away.”
“For the whole forty-eight hours of the weekend?” His tone dripped with sarcasm, and he leant against the shelf. Arms folded, you tried to forget that you knew what they looked like under the dark fabric of his jacket. “That’d have to be a world record, wouldn’t it?”
“Shut up and go away.”
Grinning, he dipped his head closer to you. “Why so rude?”
“Shut up and go away, please.”
“Come on, kid, I just wanna know what you’re getting up to.”
“Don’t call me kid.” You slammed the book shut. “And no, you’re not.”
You shoved the book back into the shelf, not in the correct spot, and selected another.
“What about this afternoon?”
“Off you fuck, Porco.”
He pushed himself off the shelf. Eyes still on the book, you tried to pretend you couldn’t feel how close he was to you. His breath tickled your hair, and you suppressed a shiver. Porco’s fingers scooped your hair, pulling it back from one shoulder, and draping it over the other. Digits brushed the back of your neck, and sparks shot down your spine, the electricity coursing into your veins.
Lips pressed against your hair, warm and familiar. “So, is that a no on this afternoon?”
Snapping the book shut, you whirled around to face him, eyes blazing. He backed off immediately. As much as he loved getting under your skin, he knew the limits. That being said, he always toed the line with one final swing.
“Meet at the usual place?”
You shot him one final glare, and turned back to your book.
↛
The fog from the morning hadn’t lifted, making you concerned that the weekend was going to be miserable. Already irate from the last eighty minutes spent in educational purgatory, you trudged across the field, relieved to reach the scrub located at the back of the school.
Down the slope, into the long grass, until you hit the bank. You weren’t sure how many other students came out here, if any. You liked to think of it as your secret place. Yours, where you could tune out everyone and everything and pretend the rest of the world didn’t exist.
A little further down the edge of the small stream you walked, until you got to the small bridge. Only a couple of metres long, it wasn’t an impressive structure. Just a few planks of wood and some nails, if that. Regardless, it added a touch of whimsy to your walk home.
Your calves pushed up the hill, carefully treading through the sprigs of long grass. Further through the thicket, and the shack came into view, rickety and run down. You’d always known it was here. It wasn’t until you’d started school that you’d had the guts to break in and see what was in there.
Old beer bottles. Cigarette butts. Nothing worth a second look.
He was already there, of course, leaning against the door, smoke between his fingers to add more of the orange filters already littered through the structure. “Knew you’d show up.”
Lips pressed together, you shook your head. “I don’t have the energy for you today.”
“I have enough for both of us, so I think we’ll be fine.”
Brow furrowed, you shook your head at him. “Don’t you know those things’ll kill you?”
Porco’s eyes flickered to the cigarette, pinched precariously between his thumb and forefinger. “Eh, you gotta do dumb shit. Builds character.”
“Hasn’t built mine,” you muttered. “I happen to do plenty of dumb shit.”
He pouted. “Don’t call me that, I’m actually really smart.”
You sneered at him, disgusted. “Can you hurry up and finish that thing? I hate that fucking smell.”
The hint of the smirk on his lips aggravated you further as he took a final drag before dropping it onto the porch. He stubbed it into the rotting wood with the toe of his sneaker, smothering the last of the embers. Smirk deepened by the defeated look on your face, he tugged open the door to the shack, holding it open for you.
“After you.”
You pushed past him into the dingy room, smacking his shoulder with your own. The faint chuckle that trickled from his throat had you seething. Fuck, you hated him.
He let the door slam behind him. You felt his presence behind you, a lurking heat against your back burning through your clothes. You dropped your bag on the floor unceremoniously, off to the side.
You wasted no time, turning to face him and dropping to your knees. Hands grabbing at his belt, you muttered, “Okay, hurry up -”
“Hey.” Fingers curled around your wrists, locking them into place. You struggled for a moment, a sloppy attempt to break loose, but his hands held firm. “No, slow down.”
Hoisting you back up to your feet, his eyes never left your face. You stared back, challenging him with your gaze, and hoped this time he would be the one to back down.
He didn’t. You dropped your eyes to his chest, chewing the inside of your cheek. You didn’t want to be here. At least, that’s what you tried to tell yourself. You tried to ignore how good he smelled, even under the cloak of cigarette smoke. You tried to ignore his skin, the way the muscle and flesh moved beneath it whenever he moved. Your gaze flitted back up again, a lot meeker than it had been before.
The faintest tilt of his head was enough. The light filtering in through the grimey window caught his irises, and you could see every fragment of green, every sliver of grey, and the honey brown that melted in between.
God, you missed those eyes.
Warm hands cupped your face, and he brought his face down to yours. Lips caught your cheekbone as you dodged the kiss, brushing off his advance.
He whispered into your skin, “Not feeling foreplay today?”
Lips brushed down the side of your face, fingertips softly holding your chin steady.
“Are you still mad?”
Still not replying, you closed your eyes, refusing to dignify him with an answer. His fingers pressed tighter around your jaw, and you felt teeth graze your earlobe. You flinched, and your lungs betrayed you with a sharp gasp. You shuddered, knees buckling, and you leaned into him, melting against his chest.
“There it is.” His lips are softer than you remember, but his taste was as familiar as ever. A moan slipped into his mouth, and you had to grip onto him for support.
Strong arms encased you, pulling you against his chest, deliciously warm in the dank fog of the September afternoon.
You could feel one hand, tangled in your hair, fingertips entwining themselves further into the locks. It was typical of him. You knew he loved your hair.
Against your better judgement, you deepened the kiss, opening your mouth wider. It earned an approving groan from him, and he rolled his body against you, pressing his arousal against your stomach.
His hands left your hair, reluctantly, and pushed the heavy jacket from your shoulders. Large hands fondled your breasts through your sweater, gentle and with a hint of hesitation.
“I definitely missed these.”
“Fuck you, Porco.”
He grinned against your lips. “Soon, baby.”
“Don’t call me that.”
Deft fingers began to untuck your sweater from your skirt, tugging at the dark green material. You returned the gesture, pulling at the edges of his jacket. Shoulders free of black denim, you slipped your hands under the hem of his grey sweatshirt.
He flinched. “Shit, your hands are cold.”
It was your turn to smirk. Porco rid himself of the garment pulling it over his head in one fluid movement. Not game to meet his gaze, you removed your sweater with shaking arms. It joined the pile of clothing at your feet, and the cold brushed along your skin. It didn’t faze you. You’d be warm again soon enough.
Your fingers found the buckle of his belt again, and this time he didn’t stop you. Experimentally, you pressed your hand against his crotch, rubbing against the hard swell hidden by dark jeans.
“Please?”
He nodded, mouth agape. You undid his pants, slowly, deliberately, watching his expression intently. You pressed your lips to his throat, on his Adam’s Apple, and slid to your knees.
Struggling, you tugged his pants down over his hips, eyes focused in front of you. You licked your lips, readying them for your favourite pastime.
“Can’t look me in the eye but you stare at my dick like it has a prize inside it.”
“It’s nicer to look at, that’s why.”
He opened his mouth to shoot back a rejoinder, but a groan came out instead as your lips went to work.
This was how it had all started. Last year. Flirting in the library turned into kisses, bestowed when you knew no one was watching. That eventually turned into getting handsy here and there, which then evolved into this - going down on one another whenever you could manage to get a moment alone.
You flicked your tongue along the underside of the head of his dick, rubbing it in circles. You watched his face, staring down at you, and it egged you on.
At a leisurely pace, you took the rest of him into your mouth, eyes not leaving his. Porco’s fingers returned to your hair, twisting in the tresses at the base of your neck.
“Fuck,” he gasped. “Fuck, I missed this so much.”
Mouth wrapped around his cock nicely, you delicately bobbed your head back and forth, trying to relax your jaw and not wear yourself out.
“You look good like that.” His fingers twisted tighter in your hair, and his hips twitched. “So pretty with your mouth full.”
You hummed, and slid him in deeper, and the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat. You made a seal with your lips, and pulled your head back, just a little.
“Fuck.” Gritting his teeth, his other hand rested on the crown of your head. “It’s been too fucking long.”
You released him from your mouth, a string of saliva still connecting your mouth to his cock. It broke, dripping down onto the swell of your breast.
“I better walk out of this shack happy, Porco.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll put you in your place soon enough,” he purred. God, he could talk smack to the bitter end. You moved your hand up and down his spit-slick member, admiring how it looked. You couldn’t meet your fingers around it, which you fucking loved. He was cut, the tip a darker shade of red than the rest.
You squeezed, teasing out an ooze of precum. Swiftly, you licked the tip in a quick stroke, showing him you were stealing a taste.
He released a long breath, shoulders still bunched and tense. “Good girl.”
You opened your mouth again, ready for more, but he held on to your hair. You whined, wanting to continue, but his grip never released.
“I’m not ready to finish just yet.” He sounded winded, like he’d run a mile. “Get on your back.”
You worked on unlacing one boot, and he focused on the other. Free from the heavy Doc’s, he hovered over you, planting his lips on yours, pushing you back onto his jacket that lay on the floor of the shack. The line of buttons at the front of your skirt gave way.
“I like these.” He was referring to the leggings you were wearing, tight and sheer with the layer of fleece on the inside.
“They’re warm, I didn’t wear them for you.”
“Feel free to wear them every day.” Porco slid them down your legs, dropping them to the side. Your underwear came away with them, already soaked.
You squirmed against the cold, and you were suddenly very away of how wet you were. Porco was aware, too.
Hands on your knees, his eyes glazed over as he locked in on the engorged flesh between your thighs.
“There’s a special place in heaven for girls that get wet from sucking cock.”
You grunted in response, but the praise absolutely tickled you.
Laying between your legs, you felt his eyes drinking you in. You’d learned he was a very visual person, hence the show you put on for him just before.
Two of his fingers traced the outer lips, not tearing his gaze away.
“Enjoying the show?”
“Immensely.”
“No different than porn.”
He choked out a laugh. “This is way better than porn, trust me.”
He placed the two fingers in his mouth, gathering as much spit in them that he could. Delicately, he pushed one finger into you, and you stifled a moan.
“You like that?”
Eyes closed, you nodded, and you felt him add another finger. Slowly pumping his wrist, he twisted his hand around, fingers curling around. He brushed a spot, somewhere inside you, and a moan managed to get away from you, much louder than you thought it would be.
Fuck, now you’d done it.
He removed his fingers, and you heard a smack of his lips. Just getting a taste.
A flush of hot breath radiated over your thighs, and Porco hit you with the first few licks, tongue dragging in long licks up and down. With no trouble, he found the bud, and swiped it into circles with the tip of his tongue.
“Ah - fuck!”
Addicted to teasing you, his tongue left your clit alone. Porco adjusted his position between your legs, threading his hands around your thighs to grip your hips. His pace slowed as he added his lips to the equation, gliding them over your slick core.
You did your best to keep the volume down, biting into your lip.
Porco released you with a wet smack of his lips, and purred into your leg. “Come on, baby, the least you could do is make some noise for me.”
You relented, releasing your lip and letting your mouth fall open. Porco returned to his task of eating your pussy like he was starving, and he got his wish. You writhed on the floor of the shack, bucking into his face as your hands came to tangle in his hair, messing the perfect pushed back style he was never seen without.
Because only you were allowed to mess it up. Only you were allowed to grab it like that.
Funny, though, how he was the one that insisted on establishing that rule.
You cried out as his tongue flicked against you, desperate to make you come and remind you of what you’d gone so long without. The knot came loose, and your thighs clenched around Porco’s head. Hands still planted in his hair, his name on your lips, you felt the dam burst.
It wasn’t a scream, but it was close enough. Anyone walking past would have thought you were being murdered. Waiting for your orgasm to subside, he sat up on his haunches, wiping your pleasure from his chin.
“Think you’re ready?
You nodded eagerly, still breathless. Porco stood, ridding himself of his pants. You awkwardly reached behind your back, and unclipped your bra. Garment tossed aside, you sat up on your elbows.
He crawled over you, eyes hungry and dark.
This was your favourite Porco. Hair messy, covered in sweat, looking at you like you were prey. Head back, nestled into his jacket, he positioned himself over you, carefully aligning himself. Tip in position, he stared down at you.
No hazel. Just black. Pupils fully dilated.
“Ready?”
You nodded, and he pushed, eyes snapping shut. His face in your neck, his body coiled over the top of you. “Fuck.
Your eyes remained trained on the ceiling, not moving as he recovered from his initial thrust.
Porco was up on both elbows, and he started to move. Slow thrusts at first, then he began to pick up the pace. He found a happy medium for the both of you - it had you gasping each time he hit home, and he wasn’t at risk of coming too quickly for you to get off.
“You look perfect like this,” he muttered, gasps and grunts muzzling his words. “Your hair all crazy like that.”
You didn’t respond to him.
Reaching down between your legs, where your body’s met, you slipped your middle and ring finger either side of his cock. It rubbed against your fingers as it drove in and out of you, and you could get a visual on what it looked like.
He was right. This was way better than porn.
“Feel good?”
You nodded. “You’re so good at this.”
“Only with you.”
You brushed his comment off. You were too lost in pleasure to care.
“Fuck, baby.” His face buried in your neck, skin damp and hot against yours. “I miss you.”
You curled against him, into his body heat. The desire to get closer to him was eating at you, burning it way through your chest in spite of you being as close to him as two people could possibly get.
You hated to admit it, but you missed this too. You missed him.
His weight bore down on you, dropping from his elbows. The heat was smothering, almost too much. Bodies glistening in the dim light of the afternoon, moving together, where they belonged.
Porco’s hands settled on your neck, thumbs pressing into the hollow at the base of your throat. Foreheads joined, he whispered, “Open your mouth.”
Lips open wide, tongue out, you knew what was coming next. Porco’s mouth hovered above yours, and he spat, saliva shooting into your mouth. Before you could close your mouth to swallow, his tongue beat you to it.
For someone so annoying and aloof, sex with Porco was always intense, intimate. It was like he could figure out your secrets through more lascivious means, and he wanted to see all the skeletons in your closet.
He was committed to unveiling everything he possibly could, and you didn’t get a say.
“I’m close,” he said hoarsely. “You still got that thing in your arm?”
You nodded. “It’s fine.”
He didn’t slow down, pace balanced and unrelenting. He did, however, hit you harder between your hips. What was even better about having sex with Porco, he liked to take the reins, and be the one in control, and you were more than happy to give it up.
Body arching off the floor, you gave one loud, shuddered moan, eyes closed as ecstasy.
“Fuck,” you cried.
“I know, baby.”
“Porco.” Your words were strangled, pleasure wrapping its fingers around your throat. “Porco, I love you.”
He didn’t say it back. You didn’t care. He continued with his thrusts, slamming his hips into your thighs until he was growling against your neck.
The pulsing of his dick inside was the cherry on top, that little extra forbidden pleasure that had you feeling dirty afterwards.
Both spent, you lay like that for a long time, Porco still inside of you as your breathing began to slow. You weren’t sure how much time had passed, before he spoke.
“Better than I remember.”
“I agree.”
He propped himself up on an elbow. “You know, it’d probably be even better if we did it in an actual bed.”
Not missing a beat, you placed your hands on his chest, and shoved with all your strength. He slid out of you, and landed to the side.
“Why’d you have to ruin it?”
You stood, ignoring the trickle between your thighs and began to gather up your clothes.
“Most people fuck in beds, (F/N), it’s actually normal.” He watched intently as you dressed, sliding your panties up your legs and doing up your bra. “Just say it, you’re still pissed.”
“Sleepovers weren’t part of the deal.”
“Then why did you say you loved me?”
You flinched. “It slipped out.”
“Why did you say it?”
“I didn’t mean it.”
“Liar.”
You pulled your sweater back over your head. “Porco, I didn’t hear from you once, all summer. You don’t get to ask questions.”
“So you are still mad.”
“A fucking text would have been nice, that’s all I’m saying.”
He glared at you. “You told me you didn’t want to hear from me.”
“You said you wanted this to be exclusive, and I said I didn’t want to hear about it again,” you shot back. “Learn to listen!”
“Well maybe clarify that next time. Also, the phone goes both ways, it’s not like you reached out either!”
You couldn’t argue with that. Leggings back up over your hips, you avoided his gaze, doing the buttons off your skirt in silence.
“I thought about you everyday.”
Sucking your teeth, you aggressively did the laces on your boots. “If you say so.”
“I did.”
Jacket on, you adjusted your hair, pulling it out of the garment.
“Can I at least walk you home?”
Still not looking at him, you nodded. It had grown dark outside already, evident of the fast approaching colder months.
The harsh words exchanged may as well have not happened, walking with arms tucked around each other in the chill.
“So why won’t you fuck me in a real bed?”
You sighed. “Makes it real, I guess.”
“So I’ve been imagining us having sex for the last year?”
“Not like that, you idiot.” You huddled closer into him. “It’s complicated.”
“It doesn’t have to be.”
You could see your house, getting closer with each step. You slowed the pace, not wanting the walk to end. Anything to spend just a few more minutes with him. “I don’t know.”
“Come on, you already know I’m a great fuck.”
You gagged. “Shut up.”
On your porch, he released you to dig into your bag to find your keys.
“Come on, (F/N), you know it could work.”
“What’s your obsession with relationships all of a sudden?”
“It’s not a relationship I want. It’s you.”
Keys in hand, you unlocked the front door. “So you can have me when we fuck.”
Before you could shut the door, leaving him outside, he grabbed the door, pushing his weight against it. “You told me you loved me, (F/N). That’s basically psychological warfare.”
You shrugged. “I didn’t think you’d care.”
“Come on. Just for a couple months. If it’s too weird, we can break it off.”
You stared at him through the door, considering his proposition. “And?”
“Either that, or the sex stops.”
You frowned at that. “What are people gonna say?”
He shrugged. “That two people that like each other are dating? Wow, shock horror.”
Sighing, you closed your eyes, defeated. “Do you wanna come inside?”
“Twice? In one afternoon?”
“You know what I meant!”
Smirking, Porco entered your house.
“Come on, you know you’ve wanted it, too.”
Scowling at him, you began making your way up the stairs. “I ain’t saying shit.”
“Besides that you love me.”
“Porco!” you screeched. “Suck my dick!”
“I’ll suck something.”
Throwing your hands in the air, done with the conversation, he followed you into your bedroom. His mouth found yours again, and your anger vanished.
You couldn’t stay mad at him for long. Sure, he annoyed the shit out of you, but there was a strong connection that you couldn’t deny existed. He was forward, and his cards had been on the table since spring.
It wasn’t enough to just be with you physically. He wanted deeper. He wanted sex, at first, but as time went by, he wanted the emotions that went with it. You were more to him than what you had been a year ago.
“You got anywhere to be tonight?”
You shook your head.
“Good.”
Finally, after a year of hints, signs, and not so subtle clues, he finally had what he wanted, and a whole lot more.
Maybe, you finally did too.