A/N; This has been in my drafts for a while and I just finally finished it up.
This is kind of dirty, perhaps even dirtier than the laundry that Ally is trying to do. At one point, this whole fic was going to be dirty talking Austin, because I read an awesomely dirty Deztin one a few weeks ago and got inspired. But in the end, I couldn't do it. I made myself blush, and trust me, that's not easily done.
This is still pretty smutty, though.
DONT SAY I DIDN'T WARN YOU!
If you're looking for romance or any type of plot you're in the wrong place.
Sorry.
Who am I kidding, I'm not sorry at all.
Her eyes flew open, almost as if in panic, her head immediately pounding, unquestionably the inevitable result of the way too many drinks, or rather, beers, that she had consumed the night prior.
That, and the way too few hours of semi-restless sleep she had gotten in her lonely (too lonely), drunken (too drunken) state.
Who would have known that sleeping alone could be so damn uncomfortable?
She crawled out of bed, blinking a few times as if that would somehow help to clear her head.
Ouch.
Moving hurt.
Thinking hurt.
Breathing hurt.
Her head was spinning a little.
Yes, she was clearly hung-over. Pretty severely so.
She was getting kind of used to it, though, as college was, as she was quickly learning, about 90% partying and 10% studying. (If even that.)
At least if you lived in a co-ed dorm.
Which she coincidentally, luckily and non-regrettably did.
(Ok, maybe the divide was more like 80%/20% for her. But either way).
She made a quiet deal with herself that she was not going to drink like that again, knowing that it was a futile promise that she would only be bake to keep for a few days, perhaps until the next weekend.
(If even that.)
Her roommate was snoring away in the close-by, close to identical bed, looking like a peaceful, innocent, young child.
She shook her head.
Damn cock-blocker.
But she did love her curly-haired, fairly newfound friend nonetheless.
Oh, she looked so comfortable in there, cooped up under the cheetah print covers.
She wanted to crawl back into her own bed.
But no.
No no no.
She couldn't.
As she started putting her things together, she was oddly proud for actually getting up.
Early.
On a Sunday morning.
That had not happened, not even once, since she moved away from home.
Fine, so perhaps she had hit the snooze button about three times while seriously contemplating to throw her too expensive cellphone out from the third floor bedroom window, before she had finally made it out of bed.
But now she was up.
Up to do laundry.
She shook her head.
Wow, she really was a goody-two-shoes.
A hung-over goody-two-shoes who was still incredibly horny from the unfortunate non-fulfillment of the previous night.
Oh, she wanted to be fulfilled.
And filled.
By him.
Over and over and over.
Gah.
The prospect of spending the next couple of hours washing clothes with the unwavering, all-consuming, hammering headache that was clearly a gift from hell seemed to be about as much fun as listening to the too old professors of each and every single one of the intro classes that she was currently taking.
Namely, not at all.
Ahhhhh.
But she had to. Procrastination wasn't her thing, and the ever-enlargening pile of laundry over in the opposite corner was gnawing away at her conscience.
That, and she had nothing to wear. Literally.
She loved a lot of things about living in a dorm, the all but fancy laundry arrangement not being one of them. Considering that the larger majority of the male student body looked as if they hadn't showered, yet alone done laundry, in the past month or so, or more specifically since school had started, it was surprisingly difficult to find an open time on the laundry schedule.
So Sunday morning it was.
Unless she wanted to spend the rest of the weekend and the upcoming week naked.
And she didn't.
Or well, actually...
She kind of wouldn't mind being naked.
Naked.
With him.
Also naked.
Yeah, that would work.
But sadly, she wasn't spending the upcoming week naked with him.
At least not as far as she knew.
She glanced at the time and decided to take a quick shower before starting her ungodly laundry mission.
After all, a shower would probably make her feel better.
She was right.
The just-a-bit too cold water was sobering her up while cooling her down, something that was clearly needed as her thoughts kept on wandering back to him.
She sighed as she saw her own reflection in the not-so-clean bathroom mirror, while brushing her teeth to get rid of the lingering taste of alcohol. Some residue of the make-up that she had been too drunk to remove the previous night was still present on her face despite the shower, and she rewashed it quickly.
Ah, that felt good.
She shuddered as she made it back to her room in her robe, soon throwing on her last pair of clean underwear along with whatever clothes she could find, settling on something wrinkled and slightly mismatched, but it was either that or the perhaps bordering on slutty dress she had worn the previous night, the dress that smelled like smoke and spilled drinks, the dress that he had almost ripped off of her body while he...
Shit, she needed to stop.
There was absolutely no time for another cold shower.
She sighed again, heavily this time around, as she began to drag the over-full, plastic laundry bin behind her down the short but way too long, empty hallway.
She really should have gotten the basket with wheels. Damn it.
She waited for the elevator, pressing the button for the basement floor while trying hard but unsuccessfully not to think about the previous night, the night that had in reality just ended a handful of hours before.
That had been some party. Some drinking. Some semi hook-up.
A semi hook-up that had been over a month in the making...
...
She had met him that first day, her very first day of college, running into him, literally, as if they were the (at least physically) mismatched leading couple in a too cliche romantic comedy, her small body crashing tightly into his much bigger one while her stack of freshman orientation papers flew like a swarm of angered bees throughout the almost full registrar office.
She had somehow hoped that her clumsiness would magically disappear once she had started college, but as she had collected the too many papers, papers that soon (but at the moment unknown to her) would make their way into the already overflowing garbage can in her way too small dorm room, she sadly had had to conclude that that was not the case.
He had helped her collect the sheets, laughingly so, before introducing himself with a smirk that she had instantly fallen for, in a I-kind-of-want-you-bad type of way.
And all of a sudden, all she had been able to think about was him and her and a completely different set of sheets, more specifically the ones on her too narrow bed.
She had taken his outreached hand, while not at all paying attention to the nice feeling of his skin against her own nor the length of those fingers...
He had said something, but she hadn't been able to process exactly what as she had already been seduced by the mesmerizing sound of his voice.
"I'm sorry, what?"
He had smiled again, almost as if he had known that it was driving her absolutely crazy.
"Austin. My name is Austin."
"Ally." That was her name, right?
Another crooked smirk-smile.
The schoolgirl romantic hidden deep inside of her hadn't been able to not reflect on how good their names sounded together.
Austin and Ally.
It had a nice ring to it.
Almost perfect.
Just like him.
Gah.
Not that she was looking for romance.
This was college, after all.
But she was looking for fun.
And he could, undoubtedly, she was absolutely sure of it, show her some fun.
She could only really think of three letters that would accurately describe him.
S.
E.
X.
And ever since that first day, she had somehow magically ran into him on an almost daily basis.
Well, maybe it wasn't just magic. They did live in the same dorm, after all.
The past month had been one long fuckfest, albeit only in her mind, as there hadn't actually been any physical contact. There had been eye fucking a plenty, subtle and not-so subtle flirting, long looks, occasional bad (at her part)/good (at his part) dancing at a few of the too loud and too long parties, along with a few shared lunches in the all but appetizing cafeteria.
It was almost as if they were somehow drawn to each other, managing to always end up in the same area, even sitting next to each other in the few classes that they shared.
When they were actually attending classes, that is.
There was lots of 'accidental' touching, lots of conversation, lots of laughter, yet no action.
None, null, zero, zip.
Nothing physical whatsoever.
Oh, she wanted to get physical.
So so physical, so so badly.
She was too much of a wimp to make the first move, even if she did believe in equality and all of that.
She was a strong, independent girl-woman.
She should be able to make a move.
But she just couldn't.
It really bothered her how much of a wimp she was.
And it seemed as if he just wanted to remain acquaintances-slowly-becoming-friends, as he hadn't made any real indication that he wanted anything more.
Sigh.
...
And then there had been the previous night.
To say that she had been excited when she saw him at the crowded party would be an understatement, as she almost had to bite her own lip to keep from cheering out loud.
He had looked like his usual perfection of casual messiness, ruffled hair and almost mischievous smile included. And of course, because his mission in life clearly was to drive her absolutely insane, he had been wearing plaid.
Their eyes had met periodically throughout the evening, lingering a bit longer each time until there really had been no point in pretending to look away.
Then half-way through the night, she had somehow found herself next to an improvised beer-pong table, him soon standing right beside her, and strangely and completely and not at all by coincidence, they had ended up on the same two-member-only beer-pong team.
Just the two of them.
She had pretended not to know how to play, for the sole purpose of having him show her, his body soon positioned behind her, close behind her, as he had been demonstrating how to throw the smallish, plastic ball in the perfect angle, his voice loud in her ear and his breath hitting her neck, and suddenly fake-learning how to throw a ping-pong ball into a red plastic cup had been the last thing on her mind.
She had thanked him for teaching her by rubbing her backside up against him, slightly and lightly and almost unnoticeable, subtle enough to get away with calling it by accident, the couple of beers she had already had clearly making her braver than usual.
She could have sworn that she heard a low-volumed groan coming from behind her, though.
Good.
She had made the first cup, of course, with a perfectly aimed throw, and by the way he had been smirking while looking at her in semi-surprise, she had known that he had known that she had clearly been pretending not knowing how to play.
He hadn't seemed to mind, though.
As it turned out, they made a good team.
They won game after game, even though some of the matches were close, and she drank way too much beer and soon she wasn't just tipsy but drunk, and happy, and alive, and in college.
And horny as freaking fuck.
The tangible attraction between the two of them had somehow been thickening with each finished cup, and at that point of the night you couldn't have cut it with a knife, but perhaps with a high-powered motor saw. Maybe.
She had met attractive guys before.
Her high-school boyfriend, Dallas, had by all counts been considered attractive.
But Austin was in an entirely different league, as everything he did turned her on.
His smirky smile, that smile that she was undecided on whether it was created by god or by the devil himself, the smile that made her want to run her tongue all over his lips, taste him, explore his mouth with hers...
Gah.
His hair. Sex hair. Or more like post-sex hair.
God, she really hoped that's not what it was.
Sure looked like it, though.
She generally didn't fall for blonds, but he was clearly an exception, as she couldn't get the image of fisting the perfect-length, light strands in her hand, tug at the short hair at his neck while his body pressed into hers...
Double gah.
Dimples. No further explanation necessary.
Triple gah.
Arms. Bulky, but not overly so, just...perfect. She could clearly envision those arms, flexing on each side of her body as his body was pressing her into a mattress, while he was pounding her hard with his...
Quadruple gah.
And as if his looks wasn't enough, he also had this amazingly intriguing personality.
He managed to be a nice guy while not being nice at all.
Like, she knew he would help old people cross the street and give up his seat on the bus; donate his last dollar to some odd animal-rescuing cause and share his lunch with the almost completely toothless, homeless guy that lived at the nearby bus station.
But she also instinctively knew that he was also more than capable of fucking girls (preferably but sadly not her) hard up against a wall, any wall, or anything else for that matter.
Not that that was a bad thing.
At all.
And then he was fun, so so fun.
There was no doubt about it, he was the full package.
(She wanted to touch his package).
Not that she had fallen for him.
No no no.
She didn't do that.
But she was extremely attracted to him.
Yes yes yes.
After who knows how many games, but after what felt like an eternity of yearning to touch yet absolutely no touching, he had turned to her with a smile.
"This is getting kind of boring. Too easy. Mind if we raise the stakes?"
She had shook her head. "What did you have in mind?"
She knew exactly what she had had in mind.
"Whoever misses a cup has to kiss the other one."
Her heart had been beating fast, so so fast, but yeah, she was pretty sure she could live with those rules.
And then he had thrown the ball and missed, she had had no clue to whether or not it was on purpose, but she had surely hoped so. He had grabbed her, pulling her body close to his as he had leaned in, moving towards her ear rather than her mouth as he whispered something.
"I'm done with waiting for you. You seem like the type of girl who would want to make the first move, and I respect that, I really do, but I've been waiting for a fucking month and I'm so so over it, so here goes nothing."
And then he had finally kissed her, holy hell had he kissed her, starting it off with a too quick peck that had rapidly turned into some sort of mouth-to-mouth exercise, fittingly so as she was about to die, his tongue swimming in her mouth and all she had wanted was to have other parts of him swim in the pool between her legs.
He was (as she had expected) a good kisser, great even, his mouth rough and urgent but his tongue somehow managing to still be soft and heavenly against hers.
She had broken away, reluctantly so, as the opposing team had cleared their throats a few times too many, and as she had faced him she had realized that he had no longer been smirking, but rather, his face had been serious and his eyes had been tinted with raw desire.
Fuck, that had turned her on (more).
"My turn". Who would have known that she was capable of smirking, as well.
And then she had missed.
And then they had kissed again.
And then he had missed.
And then they had kissed again.
And then, all of a sudden, they hadn't been playing beer pong anymore, but had been engaging in an entirely different type of sport, a seemingly professional game of tonsil hockey, both of them completely oblivious to the cheering of the small party crowd and both of them set on scoring.
Quickly.
And repetitiously.
And then they had left, making out everywhere on the way back to the dorm, her back periodically pressed up against all sorts of buildings on the way over there, his hands all over and everywhere, and she would lie if she said that she hadn't thought (hoped?) that he would take her then and there.
But he hadn't.
Damn.
He had walked her to her room, and she had known that there was no way he wasn't planning on spending the night with her, as he soon had had her pegged up against the outside of her room door, their bodies entangled, a few minutes of intense kissing passing, his hands once again underneath her dress, her hand palming him through his well-worn, low-slung jeans, his cock having responded to her touch almost instantly and she had felt herself getting wetter by the second.
She hadn't been bake to recall another time that she had been so turned on.
Best foreplay ever.
Foreplay that she had been sure was going to lead to hot as fuck sex.
Foreplay that really hadn't been necessary, but still freaking amazing.
Foreplay that had been rudely interrupted when her door flew open from the inside, making the two of them tumble into the room and onto her hand-me-down carpet, him having landed on top of her while her curly-haired roommate, who had sworn to her on her fucking life that the room would be empty, was laughing loudly and apologizing profusely.
Crap.
She should have known better. Trish was not very reliable, after all.
Roommates. The blessing and simultaneous curse of college life.
He had risen, helping her up from the floor before turning around to leave, a nonchalant "See you around, Ally" before he was gone.
What the fuck had he meant by that? She had been seeing him around for a month, she didn't want to see him, she wanted to fucking feel him. And feel him fuck her.
She needed some action, damn it.
But he had already left, leaving her with no choice but to take care of herself.
All night long.
...
She arrived at the basement floor, the high-pitched sound associated with the elevator door opening drilling into her head like a high-speed power-tool stuck on the highest setting.
The downstair laundry room was thankfully and blissfully abandoned, and, even better, almost ear-deafeningly quiet. It was so quiet that she could hear her own heart beat, the rhythm of it slightly off-beat as she was still thinking of him.
She dumped the laundry into the machines, adding the detergent and starting them before she yawned. Again.
She had 30 minutes.
30 minutes before she had to change the too heavy loads into the dryers.
30 minutes that she was without a doubt going to spend in a state of euphoric sleep, in the uncomfortable twin bed in her room, the uncomfortable bed that today had turned into a hotel-quality masterpiece of dream-inducing furniture.
...
She awoke almost an hour later.
Of course.
Apparently, she had slept through her alarm this time around.
Fuck.
Just her luck.
Someone would undoubtedly be down there, unloading her laundry, most likely leaving it in a disorganized mess of a pile, on top of the machine if she was lucky, on the dirty floor if she was not.
She rushed down the stairs, too impatient to wait for the slow elevator, breathing a bit too heavily by the time she flung the basement door open.
Of course, she was right.
Someone was there.
Someone tall, someone blond, someone who was currently holding up a pair of black lace thongs, her black lace thongs, inspecting them as if he was a little kid who had just found a brand new toy that he wanted to play with, and before her mind speeded off to him playing with her, she cleared her throat.
He turned around, and laughed as he saw her, a short laugh, almost a sarcastic one.
"Oh, that's funny."
What was he talking about?
"What?" She was still panting.
"I was just imagining what you would look like in these."
Crap.
She walked up to him, snatching the stringy underwear from his hand while trying hard not to blush at his comment.
"How did you know those were mine?" Her voice was still uneven, but at this point it was not just due to the running.
"I didn't."
Oh.
She started to move the laundry from the machines to the dryers.
"What are you doing here?" Not that she was complaining. He was the best company she could think of and the only company she wanted to have. (Oh, she wanted to have him).
"Laundry. This is the only time of the week when you don't have to fight for the machines."
Oh.
She noticed a similar laundry bin to that of her own, positioned on the floor by his feet.
Great minds think alike and all of that.
He had moved away from the machines, now leaning up against the nearby adjacent wall while observing her with a difficult to read expression on his slightly tired-looking but still too handsome face.
She felt as if he was undressing her with his eyes, and she kind of desperately wanted him to undress her with his hands.
The room somehow managed to become even more quiet as their eyes met, the low sound of two rapidly beating heart beats all that could be heard.
She instinctively knew that they were both thinking of last night.
He cleared his throat.
"So...did you sleep well?"
She shook her head. "Not really...you?"
He shook his head as well. "I couldn't sleep".
"Why not?" She was curious to whether he had felt as...frustrated...as she had.
"I was thinking of what it would feel like to be inside of you."
She blushed. How could she not?
He didn't. And she hadn't expected him to.
Suddenly, the last pair of clean underwear that she was wearing had something in common with the underwear she was currently hurling into the dryer.
Namely, they were both wet.
Soaked.
"Well, maybe you should have taken a cold shower." Her voice was just a little bit uneven.
Little did he know that she was speaking from experience.
"I did."
Oh.
She could sure use another one right about now.
And now the images of him fucking her in said shower wouldn't leave her head.
Fuuuuuuuuuck.
Funny how her heavy headache had almost instantly disappeared as soon as she had seen him.
"All yours". She was pointing towards the now empty laundry machines, but the look her gave her made her think that he was thinking of something entirely different.
He was walking towards her now, soon standing closely behind her, her back to him as she was turning on the dryer while he was turning her on.
"Don't pretend like you're not just a little bit pissed off that we got interrupted last night." His voice was in her ear now, perhaps a little bit husky and definitely a big bit sexy.
Oh, she wasn't going to pretend. Sexual frustration was still flowing through her as generously as the cheap beer from the keg at the previous night's party.
She shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant. "You're the one who left..."
"What was I suppose to do, fuck you in front of your roommate? Because believe me, if I thought you were up for it, I would have. I was seconds away from taking you on that carpet."
She was about to take a deep breath but hadn't even finished doing so, before he flipped her around and within seconds, she found herself pressed up against the nearby wall.
If there had been any space between them she would have described it as him caging her in, but as his body wasn't just next to hers but pressing into hers, like a hot iron to her way too wrinkled shirt, inadvertently pressing her body into the cement wall as his body undoubtedly responded to hers, it was more like a tightly wrapped blanket than a cage.
He leaned down and kissed her, roughly.
His mouth tasted as good or better than she could remember, perhaps because the flavor of stale beer was notably absent, replaced by a faint minty and surprisingly clean taste.
He had clearly freshened up as well.
She had know idea how long they were making out for, his mouth exploring every part of hers as his hands found his way in under her shirt.
He broke away.
"Do you still want me, or was it just the alcohol talking last night?"
Did he really need reassurance? She didn't want him, she fucking needed him.
"I...stilll...want...you." Her voice was not even close to even.
"Good, because I'm going to lick every inch of your skin, Ally. " He didn't wait for her to respond as he had already started his mission, working his way done her neck in wet, long strokes, lifting her shirt over her head and groaning out loud as he realized that she wasn't wearing a bra.
He took her already hard nipple in between his wet lips, his tongue making urgent love to her sensitive skin in eager mouthfuls as his hands continued to outline the rest of her body.
A few moans escaped her and she noticed that his bulge increased a bit further in size with each noise.
Her bare nipples were clearly not the only thing that was getting hard.
"Happy to see me?"
He pressed his dick even more forcefully into her leg.
"Yeah, very, but I've been hard since last night, Ally. You make me so fucking hard. And I want to, I need to, fuck...you...hard."
Aha, yeah, it sounded similar to what she currently had in mind.
She realized that they were still in the basement. She had kind if forgotten time and space for a little while.
"Here?" Her voice was shaking a bit.
"Where else?"
He had a point.
A good one.
The currently (and most likely temporarily) abandoned laundry room was probably the only place in the entire large building that would provide them with any sense of privacy.
She just nodded as his tongue, his glorious tongue, was in her mouth again.
He was slowly pulling down her sweat-shorts along with those last pair of (now semi-) clean underwear, as his mouth was trailing down her body, and she had never been more grateful that she had decided to take a shower.
He lifted her up, as she was now completely nude, setting her down on the low dryer, his arms on each side of her naked body, him still fully dressed, as he was eye fucking her, devouring her body, starting at her eyes, letting his gaze travel down to her breasts, her belly button, her tightly closed legs...
She almost felt as if he was physically touching her.
God, she really, really wanted him to physically touch her.
He suddenly took a step away from her, walking backwards, soon leaning up against that damn nearby wall, a few feet away.
"I want to see you touch yourself." His voice was deeper than she had ever heard before.
She shook her head vigorously. "No way."
"Come on. Spread your knees."
She hesitated.
His hungry eyes on her turned her on, she couldn't deny it. She had somehow gotten over her shyness somewhere between him removing her shirt and her pants, and to be frank, she was close to aching to be touched, even if it was just by herself.
But someone could walk in at any second. Privacy was sparse and exceptionally time-sensitive in a building full of soon-to-be-no-more teenagers.
As if he knew what she was thinking, he spoke. "I don't care who sees us, but I need to see you..."
She complied, spreading her legs, giving him an eyeful and he looked as if he was about to faint.
He cleared his throat. "Now, show me how you touched yourself last night."
"How do you know I touched myself last night?"
He just crooked an eyebrow at her, as if to let her know that he wasn't dumb.
"Come on now, of course you did."
"Why, did you?"
"Hell yeah. All night long. A couple of times this morning, too." He didn't look ashamed. Not that she hadn't expected him to. At all.
She let her hand travel down her body, her fingers soon reaching her by unfulfilled desire aching spot, and as she began rubbing herself, slowly, some incoherent noises, courtesy of the tall, still fully dressed blond, filled the room.
"You're so fucking sexy, Ally. I've been touching myself thinking of you every day since we first met. Every fucking day."
She enjoyed his glazed over eyes, she enjoyed the sensations that she elicited in herself, but she was slowly dying as she really really needed him to touch her.
Their specialty, eye fucking, was in full force and she realized that his hands were in fists by his side, and she understood that he was working hard on keeping himself from approaching her.
She was getting close, so close, her body already almost shaking, she was going to...
She was milliseconds away from making herself cum, when he finally closed the small gap between them with a few rapid steps, soon standing in between her legs, spreading them even further, as he grabbed her hand, the hand she had used to pleasure herself, moving her fingers towards his mouth, groaningly licking her fingers clean before running his tongue down her neck.
"God, if you only knew the things I imagine to do to you."
"Tell me." She had never known that she was able to sound seductive before.
She kind of surprised herself.
"Well first, I'm going to make you cum, with my mouth...I'm going to lick you, Ally, lick you until you can't help but cum all over my face."
Udjvdhuhx.
That, and yes please.
He pushed her down, flat on her back, as his tongue quickly traveled down her body, and he hummed appreciatively as it made contact with her wetness, the vibrations from his mouth driving her even crazier than the vibrations of the machine that she was currently laying down on top of.
The first lick was slow, his tongue soon not just on her but in her, moving everywhere, tasting her, drinking her, making her head spin worse than earlier that morning.
"You taste so good, Ally." He was groaning as he pushed a finger into her wetness, his tongue still on her clit, licking her in gradually speed-increasing, wet strokes until she came, on his face as he had predicted, fisting his hair in one hand while fisting her other hand in her mouth, in an all but successful attempt at keeping quiet, her now only semi-loud moans echoing off the empty walls in the smallish space.
He pulled her off of the machine, her legs still shaking slightly from her intense orgasm, as she reached to remove his shirt and then her legs we're shaking for a different reason.
She could suddenly think of one other letter to describe him.
Perfect V.
Of course, he had one.
She let her fingers trail along it, his muscles responding to her touch, before she reached for and pulled down his pants, his underwear soon around his ankles and he stepped out of them as she grabbed him, stroking him a few quick times as he growled in her ear.
"Next, I'm going to push my dick into your tight pussy, so that I can fuck you hard until you cum again."
Aha.
He flipped her around, bending her over the machine, her hands on top of it, her arms holding her body steady above it as he grabbed her hips, holding her steady in place before pushing himself all the way into her, filling her from behind in one fast, deep shove.
"You're soooo tight, Ally, holy fuck."
He pulled out, then slamming into her again, and again, his restraint clearly and quickly wavering as her wet pussy made squishy noises around him. She was meeting his every moment with equally eager ones, her ass rubbing up against him with every thrust as he was fucking her, hard and deep and relentlessly, almost roughly so yet so so right.
Funny how her personal paradise was located in the not-so-clean dorm basement.
He reached around her, finding her clit again and rubbing her in small circles, continuing to do so until she once again exploded, this time with his cock buried deep inside of her.
He let her ride out her orgasm, loudly so, before he surprised her and pulled himself out, flipping her around once again so that she faced him, kissing her deeply before lifting her up, helping her wrap her legs around his waist as he pressed her up against some dusty cabinet, his dick once again pushing deep into her, her back moving up and down the cabinet door as he continued to pound her.
She knew he was getting close, his movements growing increasingly less coordinated with every second, and she broke away from his deep kiss, whispering in his ear.
"I want to feel your cum."
Her words clearly pushed him over the edge as a long, almost non-distinguishable Fuuuuuuuuuuck left his mouth as he let go, his cum filling her in a few deep thrusts as he yelled out her name into the thankfully still empty laundry room, releasing a very different type of load than the laundry one she had just completed deeply into her.
Oh, so that was what extremely hot sex with an extremely hot guy felt like.
A few minutes of heavy breathing passed before she got dressed, picking the now even more wrinkled clothes off of the floor and she realized that he had never put his laundry in the machines.
She was about to offer to help him do so, unsure of what else to say, when the elevator plinked open, someone she didn't recognize stepping into the room , heading for the still empty machines and loading them without as much as a "hi" or a question. Clearly, the guy had no clue of what had just gone down in there just a few minutes earlier (Austin had. Gone down, that is) or maybe he did and really didn't give a shit.
Austin didn't seem to know the shortish intruder-guy, either, as he was still leaning up against the wall, a ridiculous small smile on his face.
She felt bad.
"You won't have anything to wear now."
He shrugged and she noticed that he was still breathing hard. "I guess I'll just have to walk around naked, then."
As if she would mind that.
Her laundry had just finished, the dryer coming to a stop, and he helped her throw it into her basket before accompanying her into the elevator, then walking her to her room in silence, dragging the laundry baskets (hers clean but she felt kind of dirty, but in a good way, his still dirty and she had no clue as to how he really felt) behind them.
She opened the door, kind of ecstatic that Trish wasn't there, and even more ecstatic that he decided to follow her into her room Even though she had by no means invited him.
He threw himself down on her bed, as if he belonged there (he did), the never-failing smirk plastered on his face.
"So, are you going to ask me out or what?" He sounded teasing yet hopeful.
She shook her head with an equally teasing smile. "Nah. I already got what I wanted from you."
"Is that so?" He was smiling, too, as he rose from the bed.
"Yep."
"And you don't want any more?"
"Nope." She was shaking her head, but yes, yes, yes, she did.
He moved towards her, grabbed her and had her pinned down underneath him on her bed in no time, his body completely covering hers, licking her neck and she moaned and she knew without seeing his face that he was smirking again.
"Ask me out".
"Nope."
His mouth was close to hers now, so so close.
Gah, she already craved the taste of him again.
And she also craved more than just his taste.
"Then I won't kiss you." His lips were mere millimeters away.
Fuck.
"Fine. Will you go out with me?"
He shrugged. "Let me think about it..."
She punched him in the chest and he laughed.
"I can only think of one thing I'd rather do, and that's you, so the date will have to wait until I'm finished fucking you again."
Oh.
She was pretty sure she could live with that.