Backupsmore University didn't have a whole lot going for it, except for maybe the fact that it was so cheap – which was your primary reason for attending. It had half-rate teachers who taught half-rate classes, terrible cafeteria food, and dorms with frequent reports of termite activity. However, there was one very good reason to put up with all those horrible things – and that reason's name was Stanford Pines.

You were two years in, working on your English degree and cursing the required core curriculum every day for making you take a science class in an effort to produce "well rounded individuals." Screw that. Students at Backupsmore weren't there to become well rounded. They were there to fulfill the absolute minimum requirements to get their degrees and get the hell out, especially as most of the students were burnouts or delinquents whose dreams of college would have been dashed if not for Backupsmore University.

You considered yourself a decent student, certainly making an effort. You'd been told that taking Physics 101 would be simple enough, especially since you'd gotten high marks in advanced algebra the previous year, but your professor was impossible to understand. He spoke too fast, had terrible handwriting you couldn't read, and was perfectly inadequate at explaining answers to questions you posed.

In comparison, your English classes were wonderful. You barely needed to study, you were getting extremely high marks, and class material was easy to understand. Which meant that when it was time to crack open a book, the abysmal physics book for the class was the text you spent hours poring over without much success.

The highlight of any given day was catching a glimpse of the student who lived next door to you; Stanford Pines, resident genius, which at Backupsmore was unheard of. Everyone knew who he was, but either his intelligence intimidated most people or he was so socially awkward he avoided people at all costs, because as far as you could tell he had no friends. In fact, you had never heard of a person holding a conversation with him that lasted longer than a minute.

He fascinated you. As if him being a genius wasn't odd enough, he had six fingers on each hand and it was fascinating to look at. Not to mention he was incredibly attractive. Strong, square jaw, cleft in his chin, broad chest, brown eyes you could melt in. Sometimes you left your dorm when you knew he was going to be coming down the hall back to his room, just to catch a glimpse of him. But you never spoke to him.

Until a few weeks into the school year, when you accidentally locked yourself out of your dorm. You'd left your room key on your desk this morning in your haste to get to class after oversleeping. The downfall to having a single was not having a roommate to let you into the room when you forgot your key. You had no choice but to sit in the hall and wait, watching for your RA to come back to their room so you could get them to unlock your door for you.

In the meantime, you supposed you could use this time to take another attempt at understanding what the hell your physics professor had been talking about in lecture today.

You didn't realize you were muttering profanities under your breath until a voice spoke from above your head. "I'm going to take a guess that physics isn't your forte."

Your head snapped up and your eyes met those of Stanford Pines. "Um… no," you said, a little shocked. Way to go, you mentally kicked yourself. That sounded really intelligent. "I mean, I'm sure I would be able to understand if my professor made any sense, and the book is no help because guess what? He wrote it," you said, shutting your textbook and getting to your feet. Stanford was a good head taller than you, so you still had to talk up at him. At least it was easier now that you weren't trying to speak to him facing his knees.

He chuckled. "Yeah, I've had those classes. You wouldn't believe how frustrating my multivariable calculus class was last year," he grinned at you. You almost fell over, he was so perfect. Although the fact he'd been taking the senior level calculus class as a freshman was a little intimidating.

But you sure as hell weren't going to let that deter you from talking to this boy. You were probably on track to set a new record for the longest conversation ever held with the genius Stanford Pines. "Though I'll admit I'm not extremely fond of the subject itself," you said, picking up your book bag and managing to stuff your physics textbook back into it. "I guess I'm just more of an English person."

"Better you than me," Ford said, sticking his room key into the lock on his door. "What are you doing on the floor out here, anyway?"

"Locked myself out of my room," you sighed. "I'm camping out until the RA gets back. But who knows when that's going to be? I thought I'd try to take a crack at understanding the laws of thermodynamics while I waited, but so far I'm failing miserably."

You watched Stanford's expression flicker in contemplation. He appeared to be biting the inside of his cheek before he offered tentatively, "Well… would you like to come in while you wait? I can try to explain it to you."

You felt your heart skip a beat and your stomach dropped as your nerves ran rampant. Was he really inviting you into his room? "Uh… yeah. Thanks," you stammered, hoisting your book bag over your shoulder and following him inside.

"Sorry for the mess," Stanford apologized. "I, uh… don't really get many visitors."

His room was covered in books and stacks of papers, piles upon piles of them littered everywhere with equations you could never hope to understand scribbled all over them. He had a few posters hung on his walls of famous scientists, only a couple you recognized. His bed was unmade, the sheets sporting rockets and planets. You grinned. He's such a dork, you thought, finding him cuter by the second. "It's fine," you assured him, looking around for an empty chair and finding none. You shrugged and gestured to the bed. "May I?"

"What? Oh," Stanford turned bright red. "Sure. I guess."

It really was adorable seeing him all flustered. You dropped your bag on the floor at the foot of his bed and sat down, shifting a ball of wadded up sheets for a more comfortable seat, still looking around the room. Your grin widened when you saw the collection of comic books stuffed into a part of his bookshelf next to a large text on quantum particles.

"So, laws of thermodynamics," Stanford said, picking up a stack of books and notes from his desk chair and sitting down. "Simple enough, if you can find an explanation you can understand. I, uh… I'm afraid I'm not really that great at explaining things to other people. I usually tend to go off on tangents."

"You can't be any worse than my professor," you said, shooting him a smile. It really wasn't fair, how adorable he was. "And I'm all ears, Stanford."

"Just Ford, please," he said, the tips of his ears turning red. You'd embarrassed him. How much cuter could he get? "But alright. There are three of them. The first is the Law of Conservation of Energy, which states that energy cannot be created or destroyed in any reaction."

"I understand that one well enough," you said, wrestling out your notebook and flipping it to the page of notes you'd managed to take that day, which made little sense to you. But it's this second one, the—" you squinted at your notes— "entropy principle? Is that another word for energy?"

"Not exactly," Ford said. How were you going to listen to a word he said when he was sitting the way he was, his legs wide with his hands resting on his knees as he tried to explain. "Entropy is a thermodynamic property that is the measure of a system's thermal energy per unit temperature that is unavailable for doing useful work… and I've lost you, haven't I?" he asked, noticing your eyes had glazed over.

"Sorry," you mumbled.

"No," he said, rubbing the back of his neck, looking apologetic. "I told you I wasn't very good at explaining things."

"Maybe it's just hopeless," you sighed, setting aside your notebook and flopping back on Ford's bed. "I just wasn't meant to understand science. I'm strictly a Shakespeare and Dickens nerd. I can analyze every word of Much Ado About Nothing and find every parallel and scrutinize each character, but physics is as foreign to me as Japanese."

Ford laughed. "Now there's a language I can't understand. Shakespeare is impossible."

"What?! No, Shakespeare is wonderful!" you exclaimed, sitting back up. "He was a genius! I can't imagine having the brain capacity to write so many beautiful plays, and especially in the way he did! Iambic pentameter is a lot more difficult to write in than you'd think, and—,"

"Now you've lost me," Ford grinned, interrupting you. "I don't think I've ever met anyone who gets so excited about their area of study. Well, aside from me."

"It' Backupsmore University," you pointed out jokingly. "Nobody is here because they're particularly enthusiastic about school. Present company excepted, that is."

"You're here, though," Ford said. "And clearly, you love what you study."

You sighed. "Backupsmore was… financially feasible." You shrugged, trying not to think about all the opportunities you'd missed out on simply because you couldn't afford to attend a more prestigious school. "I'm kind of dreading graduation. Who's going to hire someone with Backupsmore on their resume?"

"I'm in the same boat."

You set aside academic discussion entirely, instead moving into conversation about favorite books, music, films. Ford reluctantly told you he enjoyed listening to Elvis, and gently teased you for your obsession with the Beatles. You both loved Lord of the Rings. He was baffled by your adoration of the film Dr. Zhivago, as he'd never seen it. You insisted you had to show him the film sometime before he told you one of his favorite films of all time was 2001: A Space Odyssey, and even admitted to being fond of Creature from the Black Lagoon and Forbidden Planet.

"Forbidden Planet?" You repeated. "What's that about?"

He stared at you. "You've never seen it?!"

"Nope. But you've never seen Dr. Zhivago, so we're even," you grinned at him. At some point he'd moved from his desk chair and seated himself on his bed next to you, but you couldn't really remember exactly when. He was really entertaining to talk to and you'd lost yourself a bit in conversation.

"But I thought for sure you'd have seen it! It's been compared to Shakespeare, for goodness sake!" he exclaimed. His expression was so adorably baffled.

"Really? Which one?"

"Oh, uh, The Tempest, I think."

"Oh my gosh. Now I have to see it."

"I'll take you." As soon as he spoke the words he looked shocked with himself. "I mean… that is, it'll be playing at the theater in a couple of weeks and we could go. Together. I mean, if you'd like to."

You giggled. "Of course I want to!"

He looked even more astounded at your response. "Wow. Um… okay."

You grinned at him. "You know, you're really adorable when you're flustered."

He turned a deep shade of red. "I don't really know how to respond to that."

You inched closer to him on his bed and covered his hand with yours, suddenly very aware of his extra fingers. You wondered how it would feel to have those strange yet wonderful hands exploring every facet of your body…

"So you want to go out with me?" you asked, pressing yourself into his arm. "Why?"

His eyes were locked on yours. You weren't certain if he wanted to look away. "I just… I've seen you in the halls a lot, and you're so beautiful. You're… different. You're like me. You're not here because you want to be."

"No, I suppose not," you breathed. You were getting lost in his gaze.

"So there is an upside to going to this school." His voice was no more than a husky whisper.

"What's that?"

"I'm looking at her."

And then he was kissing you, his hands moving from the bed and to your cheeks, his fingertips creeping into your hairline and his tongue slipping past your lips, exploring the contours of your mouth. He wasn't a bad kisser. Certainly not the worst you'd had, though he could use a little work. Whatever. You intended to give him a lot of practice.

He broke away, staring into your eyes. "Was that okay?"

"Was what okay?" you asked. "The fact that you kissed me or the kiss itself?"

"Both, I guess."

You grinned. "You're a pretty good kisser. You had much experience?"

He looked down and said, almost reluctantly, "I've kissed a couple girls before."

"Done much else?"

He turned the most adorable shade of scarlet. "I, uh… well, I haven't gone… all the way, I guess is how you'd say it, but there have been, uh… well, it only happened the one time, but I've been told I'm pretty good at certain things—"

You cut him off with another kiss, shifting so you could straddle his hips. You broke away and began to pepper his neck with kisses, shuddering with delight when your cheek brushed against his stubble. "Show, don't tell," you purred.

He let out a long, shaky breath, arching his neck up as you allowed your tongue to dart across small patches of his skin, moving up to his ear lobe and giving it a nip. He whimpered a bit, a sound of pleasure. Good.

His hands slid beneath your sweater, clutching at the skin of your back. You were extremely happy for that extra finger of his; it gave him a broader grasp. You kissed him on the mouth again, gently biting his bottom lip, and he groaned and quite abruptly grabbed your hips and picked you up from on top of him, laying you on his bed and climbing atop you. As he kissed you his glasses slid down his nose, bumping against your cheek. You giggled and pulled them away from his face. "Maybe we should put these away."

He took them from you and set them atop a stack of papers on his nightstand before kissing your cheek and moving down to your neck, his stubble rubbing tantalizingly against the sensitive skin there and setting your nerves on edge. As his tongue ran along the soft skin behind your earlobe you let out a soft gasp. You couldn't bear it anymore. You needed to feel more of his skin against yours.

As he switched his attentions to the other side of your neck your hands traveled to the collar of his shirt and you desperately tried to undo the buttons, your fingers fumbling every so often. He pulled away to help you with them and you sat up to make it easier, and when the last button came undone and his shirt fell completely open you placed your palms on his flat expanse of chest, curling your fingers briefly in his chest hair before shoving his shirt off of his shoulders. Damn if those biceps weren't nicer than you'd imagined they would be.

He pulled his shirt off and tossed it aside before he reached for the base of your sweater, pulling it over your head and throwing it to join his shirt on the floor. He stared at you as if thoroughly dazzled. "Jesus, Ford, I haven't even taken off my bra yet," you mumbled, blushing.

He moved closer and kissed your collarbone. "You are so beautiful," he breathed, moving down to grant kisses to the dip just above your breasts and then down your stomach, his hands firmly on the flat of your back to keep you upright. You arched your spine, half-closing your eyes. Jesus, the feeling of the stubble on his jaw tickling the skin of your stomach was turning you on more than you ever thought it would.

His hands traveled up to your bra, his fingers awkwardly undoing the clasps until it pulled apart, and you let it slide down your arms and let it fall into the rapidly-growing pile of discarded clothes on the floor. Ford paused, staring at your breasts. "Wow."

His face was so awed and adorable you had to giggle. He tore his gaze away from your chest to look into your eyes. "What?"

"I find you completely charming," you whispered, reaching out to grasp the hair at the nape of his neck and pulling him close to you to kiss him again. He leaned forward into it, catching you off balance, and you fell backwards onto his bed.

Ford grinned down at you. "The look of shock on your face is hilarious."

"Shut up and kiss me, you nerd," you gasped out, and he complied eagerly, his hands moving from your hips up to your breasts. You whimpered as his thumbs brushed against your nipples. Taking a cue, he squeezed your breasts before moving his left hand to the base of your spine, arching your back, and he pulled his face away from yours and moved lower, his mouth meeting your breast. You let out a shuddery gasp as his tongue circled your areola, his other hand manipulating your right breast.

Your hands grasped at Ford's shoulders, trying desperately to hold onto an anchor to prevent you from floating away on impassioned euphoria. He pulled away and began a similar seduction on your other breast. You whimpered each time his tongue flicked across your nipple.

He pulled away and began fiddling with the button and the zipper of your jeans, and you lifted your hips and let him pull them off of you. As he tossed them aside you lifted up your legs so they were wrapped around his hips, pressing your chest into his. "You weren't wrong," you whispered. "You're pretty good."

"I'm not finished yet," he informed you with an almost devilish gleam in his eyes as he pulled back, fingering the waistband of your panties and giving you an imploring look. You nodded, and moments later they joined the rest of your clothes on the floor.

His hands went to your thighs, running up and down them, gently prying your legs apart. And just as the anticipation swelling up in your chest was becoming too much to bear his fingers grazed the most aching part of you, and you let out a noise that was partly a whimper, partly a gasp of pleasure. You heard Ford make a soft sound of amusement before slipping a finger inside you and twisting it, making you squirm as the heat between your legs intensified.

"God, you're so tight," Ford breathed huskily, burying his finger in you to the knuckle, making you arch your back and moan. Your fingers curled in the sheets, trying to grasp anything that would keep you in the present. It just felt so damn good.

When he added a second finger it was all you could do to keep from screaming your pleasure, biting down on your lip and moaning as he began using his thumb to rub your clit while he maneuvered his fingers in and out, especially as one finger curled up to rub your G-spot.

You couldn't hold back anymore. You let out several short gasps and everything burst into stars and pleasure, and you felt as though you were floating as you lost hold of reality. After a few seconds Ford's face faded back into your conscious, a satisfied smirk on his lips. "Did you come?" he whispered, kissing your cheek.

"Hell yes," you breathed back, still breathing unevenly from your orgasm. "Give me a few seconds."

"Because there's something else I want to try," he mumbled. God, his stubble rubbing against your jaw was already turning you on all over again.

"What's that?"

"I want to, uh… try eating you out," he told you, his face turning red. You stared at him, already getting excited. You'd given a couple blow jobs before, sure, but the guys you'd fooled around with had thus far balked at the idea of returning the favor. And here was this guy, this adorable nerd who you were more attracted to than all of your previous dalliances combined, asking politely if he could try.

"God, yes," you whispered, kissing his throat. You felt him shudder. "If you want to, I'm sure as hell not going to stop you."

He began trailing kisses down to your waist, pausing at your chest to suck briefly on one of your nipples, making you squeak with pleasure, and when his lips met your wetness you whimpered. Nothing had ever felt like this. He used his fingers to pry you apart, giving him unobstructed access as his tongue lavishly stroked between your folds, probing your clit and sending jolts of pleasure up and down your spine. You didn't think you'd ever made so many sounds during foreplay before.

Eventually he took to rubbing your clit with one finger, his tongue probing inside of you until your legs were shaking and your eyes were perpetually half-open, and suddenly you were falling back off passion's peak with your second orgasm in ten minutes.

"Jesus," you gasped, floating hazily back to reality. "That was incredible. Where the fuck did you learn to do that?"

Ford laid down next to you, one hand going to your breast and tweaking your nipple, rolling it in his fingers. "Actually, it was my first try."

"You're lying."

"I swear I'm not," he grinned. "You're pretty vocal. It was easy to figure out what you wanted based on how much noise you were making."

"Oh, god," you said, blushing as you buried your face in his chest.

"You're so hot when you come."

"Shut up!" you giggled, sitting up and straddling his hips, running your hands from his chest to his stomach and to the waistband of his pants. "Your turn," you breathed, working at the clasp of his belt and pulling it off of him before unbuttoning his pants and relieving him of them as he had done with you. His boxers sported a pattern of superhero logos. "Nice," you grinned down at him.

He blushed. "Shut up."

You laughed and leaned down to graze a few kisses to his jaw, sighing contentedly as you rubbed your cheek against his stubble. "In a little bit," you purred, granting him another kiss to his lips before you pulled his boxers off.

Jesus. When you woke up this morning, never in your wildest dreams would you have guessed that later you'd be completely naked with Stanford Pines.

You had to stare a little bit once you'd gotten him nude. He may not have been as long as some of your previous hookups, but he was certainly thicker. Thank god he'd stretched you out a bit already with his fingers, you thought. When the time came, he'd be easier to take.

"Ever gotten a blow job?" you whispered.

He shook his head, looking like all his dreams were coming true. You grinned wickedly up at him. "Allow me to change that."

You leaned down. Wow, what a hard-on. You smirked, a little smug about all the power you were about to have over Ford, and licked his member from base to tip.

Ford gasped and shuddered. "Fuck," he hissed.

"What, you want me to stop?" you teased.

"Keep going," he spat through clenched teeth.

"Yes, sir," you joked softly, returning to the task at hand, taking him in your mouth until you felt the tip of him at the back of your throat. Encouraged by his heavy breathing, you teased his length with your tongue and pulled back, using a combination of slow, steady caresses with your hands and languid strokes of your tongue until he was trembling and tense. When you could sense he was very close to the edge you pulled back.

"Fuck," he let out a long breath through his nose. "Why did you stop?" The question almost sounded like a whine.

"Because I don't want you coming until you're inside of me, genius," you said, your voice as seductive as you could make it. "Do you have any condoms?" He shook his head and you shot him a smirk. "Not too hopeful, are you?"

"Hey!" he countered, grabbing your waist and pulling you into him, planting his lips over yours and kissing you deeply. "Let's just say I didn't think I'd ever get lucky enough to get a girl I actually wanted to sleep with into bed with me."

You let out an incoherent mumble of pleasure and pulled away. "Lucky for us, I keep a condom in my wallet in case of emergencies."

"You keep a condom in your wallet?" Ford asked, sounding amused.

You climbed off the bed and started rummaging through your book bag for your wallet. "Yeah. Why does that surprise you?"

"I don't know, I thought that was a thing only guys did," Ford shrugged, and you felt his gaze raking over your naked body. You found your wallet and pulled it out, fishing the condom from behind your driver's license.

"It's because the first guy I slept with tried to pull the 'too big for a condom' crap on me," you informed Ford, getting back in bed.

"And you let him keep going without one?" Ford asked, looking horrified.

"Hell no," you scoffed, ripping the packaging off the condom and tossing it aside. "I rooted through his roommate's sock drawer and nicked one from him and told the guy he wasn't getting any unless he wore it."

Ford laughed. "You sound like a force to be reckoned with."

"Just want you to know what you're getting yourself into," you grinned, kissing his cheek and running a hand down between his legs. "You still hard?"

"Painfully."

"Do you have lube? Please tell me you have lube."

Ford turned red and reached a hand down below his bed, pulling out a bottle and handing it to you. "For some reason, I feel really ashamed by this," he mumbled.

You kissed him on the mouth. "I don't know why. It's totally normal. You know how to put a condom on?"

"No. But even if I did, I think I'd still want you to do it." Ford playfully tweaked your nipple and you nudged him.

"Fine then. Let me concentrate," you swatted his hand away and he obeyed, remaining completely still as you lubed it up and rolled it over the length of him, kissing him when it was on. "Ready for this?" you whispered.

"You have no idea," he mumbled, laying you back on his bed and spreading your legs. "How will I know where to, um… you know?"

"It's not that hard. You'll get it," you smirked, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him on top of you. You kissed his jaw and nibbled at his earlobe before you whispered, "Now would you just fuck me already?"

He started kissing your neck and you felt him at your entrance, breathing in hard as he thrust in. Fuck, he was big. It took a little getting used to.

"You okay?" he asked hoarsely. You knew it was killing him to remain still within you.

You kissed him. "Keep going, you nerd."

He started thrusting in and out, his breaths getting short and his eyes closing. It didn't take him long. Hell, you were surprised he'd held out for as long as he had. You hadn't come close to coming during the actual sex part, but since he'd brought you to orgasm twice during foreplay you didn't mind too much.

Except that Ford, when he opened his eyes after coming off the high of orgasm and saw you were a little underwhelmed, pulled out and immediately thrust two fingers inside of you, languidly pulling them in and out until you were writhing on the bed again, toes curling and moans escaping your lips before you felt the sweet release of pleasure again.

"You really didn't need to make me come again," you gasped when you felt able to speak coherently. You hadn't noticed Ford had gotten off the bed, apparently having crossed the room and disposed of the condom while you were recovering from your orgasm.

He came back to the bed and laid down next to you, wrapping you in his arms. "Yeah, but I felt bad. Plus, I know girls can go on for like, forever."

"No shit," you mumbled. How the hell did you end up in bed with someone as considerate as him? You had to get it together. You'd probably never find anyone else like Stanford Pines. "Anyway, don't worry about it. You'll get better. I hear it's easier to last the more sex you have."

"You want to do this again?"

"Um, fuck yeah?"

"Wow," Ford rubbed the back of his neck. "I didn't think I'd be good at this at all, to be honest. Good to know you enjoyed it."

"Enjoyed it? Jesus, Ford, you're the best I've ever had."

"This probably isn't saying much, but you're the best I've ever had, too," Ford grinned, and you laughed before snuggling into him.

"You know, eventually I am going to have to go get the RA to let me back into my room."

Ford let out a playful whine. "Stay here a while longer."

You kissed him. "Whatever you want, you nerd."

I have ideas for sequels to this. Some are fluff, some are NSFW. Also, I take requests - Ford requests, Stan requests, young or old. PM me if there's something you'd like me to write.

If you're interested in more of this sort of content, I run a blog on tumblr called dofunklethegrunkle.

Hope you found this (ahem) enjoyable.