This is short and silly, but I think I'm in love with this silly thing.


It has been ages since the last time you had takeout for dinner, usually cooking a week's worth ration of pasta. You've already sent two long messages with every heart emoticon you could find to your partying flat mate. She took pity of you.

For those working hard on a friday night.

You'll stick this note with the others in your room; she had the fixation of adding a small doodle in them. This one featured a version of yourself bent over your laptop's keyboard. Accurate illustration on how you will be spending the night. After dinner, of course.

You sit on the small kitchen table – tasty food in hand – and you get your phone, searching for some video to see while you eat. Your heart shakes for a moment with the memory of Kylo. It has been doing that since yesterday morning; whenever you took your phone. The same thought appeared every time you looked at the device: you have his number. On paper, that is. A paper that you hadn't glanced since yesterday when packing your things and leaving class.

Too nervous since then. Your mind making you believe you were going to find him at every corner. You want to find him. You want to see him again. You have been so wet.

But what will you say if you find him?

Hey, want to go to a stall or something?

Because your body needed to take more than a cup of coffee with him. You've never done this sex before friends thing. Well, kinky masturbation before friends thing. What are the rules for this relationship? Are there any rules? Is this some kind relationship?

You have paid no attention to the recommended YouTube video. Over with your food, you lock your phone and move to throw the takeout wrapping, empty glass of water left in the sink. Going into your bedroom, you turn on the lamp on the bedside table between your desk and double bed – inheritance of the previous flat mate. You turn on your laptop, getting out of your clothes and putting some sweatpants and an old t-shirt.

Comfortable, you click on the assignment document and open a new blank one.

You read the assignment instructions. A few times. Right, time to start typing this thing. Your fingers hover over the keyboard while you stare at the white page on your screen.

You're sure this week you heard someone saying there is a perfect book for this assignment in your faculty's library. You search for your library's catalog. That looks like something you could use, and it has five reservations. Back to the assignment document.

It's 11PM. You have nothing. Every uploaded and available document on this subject is open. You haven't read more than a paragraph of two of them.

Well, you still had time, if you skip both your classes on Monday you definitely can research and write it in a day. It's just a 500 word assignment. Worth a 20% of the subject. There is another assignment and an exam to compensate in case you slipped with this one. Yes, nothing to worry about.

You won't concentrate here, the library would be better. Tomorrow morning you'll go, maybe even ask for one of your friend's notes, yours were –

Your face grows hot. You glance at the black screen of your phone. Your great distraction. The one you should resolve. Yesterday noon and yesterday night you tried to resolve it with your hands – your purple vibrator wasn't suited for this – you needed three fingertips to make two of his. As you needed this morning. As you need now.

How long is this going to last?

With a deep breath, you get up from your chair and walk to your bag; just to read what he made you write. To help resolve the distraction.

Paper in hand, you feel a sudden wave of arousal. Eyes going over the words; they get stuck on his numbers.

Heart beating fast, you sit on your chair, phone in hand. Typing the numbers – his name.

You feel the beating all the way up your throat. You press the call button and put the speaker against your ear.

He may not even pick it up.

He may have left his number in the heat of the moment. Your stomach twists.

What if he picks it up? You'll tell him you're too horny to work? That you want him to say many more things? That he has ruined your masturbation sessions forev –

"Yes?"

Your mouth opens. You move your phone away from your ear. Hang up. You fling the locked device on your bed.

Kylo doesn't know your number; it could have been anyone. He doesn't know. You grab the paper, reading his questions, reading your answers. God, his touch.

Leaving the paper on your keyboard, you get up and remove your comfortable clothes. Laying on your side on top of the bed, calming your beating, you roll to lay on your back. Closing your eyes, you run your fingers through the inside of your thighs. Hands too small, not warm enough. It doesn't matter, you bend one leg, your hands move towards –

A buzz, reverberating, faintly shaking the surface of the mattress. You sit and see his name in big letters on the screen – heart back in your throat – you need more. Grabbing it, you accept the call, speaker on your ear. You say nothing.

"Hanging up on me, bad girl?" his voice is way better than you remembered. But you're too nervous.

"Do you call that to every unknown number?" regaining your control, feeling collected, you hear a short chuckle. You smile, more at ease.

"Operators don't hang up when I answer," he says, voice way deeper than you remembered. This time he's not whispering; there is no background noise. "What were you doing, that made you think of me?"

Your back falls on the mattress, suddenly you remember how naked you are. You can't say it. Turning your head, you see the blank document still on the screen of your laptop. You need to calm down.

"Nothing," you say, he's silent. "I was working. On an assignment," you desperately wanted to hear him again, and you were talking about an assignment; that's just –

"For Monday noon," your blood runs cold. How does he know? You're the one who's silent. "I'm in the other group. Today I finished mine," he sounds uncomfortable, but it's what you need to relax. "An assignment makes you think on calling me?" you can't answer. "Yesterday night you didn't make your assignment. You didn't even read your notes."

Knees bending, your thighs press together.

"No, I didn't," it's hard to breathe.

"You did now. Do you need help?" your fingers play with a wrinkle in your bedsheets, you feel a pang of arousal with the way he asks you that question.

"Yes, I do," you think you managed to not moan your words.

"Do you want me to help you?" he asks gravely, just like yesterday.

You take a moment to breathe and think. Yesterday you trusted him and you didn't regret anything. You were ashamed, but you regretted nothing.

"Yes, please."

"How many words along are you?" you look again at the blank document.

"None. I have nothing," you answer, why does it shame you to admit that to him?

"Do I need to remind you how bad girls are punished?" your hand grips the bedsheets, tight, he doesn't know how naked you are.

"No, you don't," chest heaving, you want him to know. "I'm not wearing anything."

Silence.

You faintly hear the sound of a car – is he out? Is he calling you in the middle of the street?

"Go grab your vibrator, if you still don't have it between your legs," the way he sounds reminds you of his whispers.

You turn around quickly, moving to the bedside table with the lit lamp and opening its drawer. Excited, you tell him you got it.

"Go to the computer, lay the vibrator on your chair, and straddle your wet pussy on the middle of it."

You're sure he can hear the way he makes your breath shake. You rest it on your seat, tip pointing at the back of the chair, your legs straddle it – pussy lips spreading around the toy and clit touching it.

"Don't turn it on," free hand on your desk, you don't. "What's on the screen of your computer?" embarrassment, again.

"The blank file of my assignment," your free hand takes the paper you left on your keyboard and puts it away.

"Good, I'll help you get started. Look at it," gaze fixed on the white page, your hand grips the edge of the desk. "Rub yourself."

Clenching your teeth, you start to move your hips – the smooth surface already slickened – soon your hips tilt, searching for better friction on your clit. You let a breathy moan when you find the perfect angle. What can you do to convince him to turn it on?

"What did you do yesterday night?" he whispers, the way he gets into your head when he talks like this – your mind drowns between his words and you just answer without sparing another thought.

"I touched myself," you whisper, like him.

"I let you cum on the morning. How many more times have you since then?"

"Three," you moan, finally confessing, you can hear a short sigh.

"You'll never get on with your work like this," you agreed, looking at your screen. "How did you cum?"

"With my fingers," your hips start moving faster.

"Why didn't you use your toy?" you moan; ready to tell him everything.

"I missed your fingers. I wanted to feel them again, I wanted to cum like you made me cum in class. I can't think of anything else, please."

"Turn it on," your hand flies to the exposed button. With a long moan your hips stop moving, the pressure is more than enough. "Your fingers weren't enough. You didn't cum like you wanted to."

"No. No, I couldn't. I needed to hear you again."

"It is much better, isn't it? Anyone ever told you how to pleasure yourself?" you moan, body so hot you're sweating, climax building. "No one must have given you permission to cum either. If you ask well enough, I'll let you."

His voice is not even. You love the breathiness that sneaks in some words – against his will – he tries to contain himself but your moans are doing this to him. You're near the edge.

"You were right, I'm so irresponsible you have to show me how to cum. I'm so bad everyone should see how you make me cum. Please let me –"

You hear a curse. Almost.

"Cum, bad girl."

Pleasure spreads, you moan your orgasm with your phone pressed against your cheek. Riding the vibrations – clenching and unclenching your cunt – unable to hear him. The next second, the toy is too much. Whimpering, you turn it off. You can't hear Kylo.

Another passing car; you frown.

"It's a shame yesterday you couldn't moan like this."

Breathing in relief, you are becoming aware of the weight of your words; how could you tell him all these –

"We could do something," sounding like he regained his composure, you shift on your chair, toy too wet from your orgasm. "I give you a new deadline for Monday's assignment. If you meet the deadline, I'll give you an assignment of my own," thrilling. "Would you like that?"

Excitement! Like you hadn't felt in a long while!

"Yes. I really would," blank page looking back at you, finally, you want to get started on it.

"Good. Sunday 12PM, write it on the file," you type it with one hand. "Let's see if you have better focus this time," you can hear his smirk. Kylo ends the call.

Looking at your new deadline, you don't know why he is doing this, but you can't get enough. You want to keep going; see what will come out of it.

A shower first.