One of Us Has Got To Change
Nerd!Reader x Jock!Obito
"Are there any left with a longer skirt, maybe?" you ask, peeping outside the dressing room of the Halloween party supply store. The door next to yours creaked open and your best friend's purple hair fell over her shoulders as she eyed you in her sexy nurse dress.
"That's what you get for skipping out on shopping with me two weeks ago when I offered." She pointed an accusing finger at you. "You get stuck with the skimpiest costumes."
You fidgeted with the door handle. "You know why I didn't want to go in the first place.."
"Well, look at it this way," she said with a smirk and an arched devious brow, "if they're there, Obito will be drooling all over you and Rin'll be jealous. Probably pitch a little bitch fit and run away cryin'." Konan barked a laugh and shut her door with a snap before you could argue. You groaned extra loud to be heard over the drone of the air conditioner above you for good measure.
The thin mirror on the back of your door already pointed out the flaws in the costume. Since bralettes became trendy, you haven't owned a real, padded bra in years. Unfortunately, as comfortable as they were, they were lacking in one department.
The flimsy school girl uniform came with an extremely cropped white shirt that hid absolutely nothing. The pleated mini skirt even less so.
You shuffled around your clothes on the stool in the corner in search of your glasses and put them on to further scrutinize the outfit.
As your eyes came into focus, you realized while you were busy complaining about the logistics of walking around and not giving everyone a free show, you didn't take into account the colors.
The skirt, the sailor collar, the tie.. They were your college's colors. The very same ones anyone into sports wore on game days. Great, a cherry on top of your sundae. Your wonderful luck is ever presenting itself in miraculous ways.
Obito would most certainly be there tonight and he would most certainly think you chose them on purpose.
"Thanks!"
"Thank you." Konan opened the ride share app on her phone and rated the driver; a rather nice man sporting a bowl cut who had a penchant for playing the oldies.
You puffed your cheeks and blew out a long sigh, staring up at the white fraternity house. The iron gates had Greek letters carved in a long arch above the entrance. Neither you nor Konan were friends with anyone who belonged to the frat, it was just understood they threw insane parties, and that seemed to be the only reason the house existed.
Most of the windows were flashing an assortment of colors, others had their curtains drawn closed. The music's bass raised your heartbeat in time with it, pounding your chest and stomach in rapid rhythms.
The strong scent of pot wafted down the driveway. Spread across the lawn were the barely clothed bodies of other students you recognized. Parts of costumes, mostly fairy wings, were abandoned in the grass.
Broken away into smaller groups were a few hulking men wearing the rugby team's letterman jackets. Your heart quickened, dashing past the pace of the music. Darting your eyes over the men, dread started to seep into your bones, weighing you down, making it almost impossible for your brain to catch up and process that none of them were the one you were anticipating.
Relief flooded you. He wasn't out here, at least. The ice in your veins melted to a cold sweat down your back, cooling in the breeze. You could delude yourself into a false sense of safety for now.
"C'mon," Konan repeated your name and jerked her thumb over her shoulder to the double door of the mansion, propped open with jack-o-lanterns. You shook yourself out of your daze and followed.
The inside swam with orange and yellow strobe lights, blinking, then swirling about the room in tiny, disorienting circles. At random intervals they would stop altogether and finally, you could see where you were going in the sea of sticky bodies. The music pulsed in your ears. Your glasses tickled as they rattled down your nose. Your eyes were back to scanning the room, fearing the moment you spotted that one head a spiky brown perfectly tossed bedhead of hair, those broad shoulders you could pick out in a line up, and the busted nose you've personally thought about punching once, twice, maybe several hundred times.
Konan glanced over her shoulder at your lagging body. She slipped her hand from your wrist and gestured. "Kitchen," she yelled in your ear. You yanked your attention from the crowd to face her, eyes wide in alarm, and she shook her head, amending her statement. "For drinks, I haven't seen him yet."
You followed her taller frame, acting as a boat parting the roiling waves of human limbs grabbing and groping for others; weaving in her stead like a duckling following its mother. The doorway to the kitchen was just up ahead. No flashing lights in there. Just cool white tile and a marble countertop you could rest your aching head on.
Squeezing past a couple making out on the fireplace and handling one the fireplace pokers in the most interesting fashions, something caught your interest. A swish of a pleated mini skirt. A cropped shirt-cut to be shorter than yours-and the same color sailor's neckerchief as you. However, there were a few stark details standing out in your mind as your eyes roamed the person from the bottom up. Their choice in wearing muddy running shoes, their incredibly hairy legs, and the brazen six pack abs showing off between the skirt and top.
Your brain went sluggish again, refusing to cooperate. It short circuited, letting your eyes continue their journey up, and up, and up. You knew this could only end badly. Those wide shoulders and proud chest belonged to one person. And yet, you lifted your head the final inch and locked gazes with your greatest enemy.
Your stomach dropped to the floor, and those floorboards gave way to darkness. A spotlight casted over you, over him. Blackness blurred the edge of your vision. The masses of college kids faded to spectators in your arena and Konan was the announcer, a microphone in hand and arm raised. A bell dinged three times and you were pushed forward, stumbling closer to your bully and his imminent gut punch. Blue and red ropes sprung to propel his weight, his heavy footsteps quaking the white boxing ring as he charged at you, his arm coiled at his side. He wound it up and dealt the knock-out-punch.
"Well, well, well," Obito said, slanting his mouth in a cocky grin. His lingering gaze was all but alluring, angled at you over his crooked nose. Black pupils dragged from your shoes, up your bare legs, pausing to appreciate the lack of modesty in your shirt, then your sheepish face. "Looks like my favorite admirer chose the same outfit as me." His friends around him chortled. Obito threw them a self-satisfied grin and leaned in to make sure you heard his gravelly voice over the music, "One of us better change. How embarrassing for you."
"Fuck off," you spat at him. Of course he would come here in the same fucking costume as you and not in jeans and a t-shirt with his new rugby letterman's jacket with the captain's patch on his arm, that would be too goddamn convenient. He had to be the class clown and wear something like a sexy school girl uniform.
Konan flipped him off and grabbed your hand, leading you to the kitchen to the sound of a roar of laughter behind you, only adding to the chorus when you stumbled on a loose tile in your platform Mary Janes. Luckily, Konan was there to steady you, wrapping you safely in her arms and guiding you to the rickety dinner table stacked high with drink dispensers.
"What a fucking asshole."
"Why the fuck did I come here," you grumbled at yourself, tugging at the stack of red Solo cups, becoming more and more infuriated when they stuck together. Luckily, another friend came to save you this horrible night. Deidara lent you a hand, separating the cups for you without a judgemental word or glance. It didn't matter anyway; his eyes were closed and he had his AirPods in, quite literally dancing to the beat of his own drum, a new track he made this morning.
He gave a peace sign to your thanks and his bright blonde ponytail whipped around him as he danced, hands in the air, into the dark den swirling with dizzying orange lights.
In the less boisterous kitchen, you could almost feel the flow of air coming from the vent over the breakfast bar, but you were sure Obito saw your flushed, sweaty, face before you left the den. Damn those lights pausing yellow just long enough to give him a good look.
"If it helps, I didn't see Rin with him," Konan offered. When you turned your scorn on her, she shrugged and dropped ice in your cups.
You calmed your angry huffs of breaths to something people would consider normal and pulled the tap on the orange dispenser consisting of whatever mix of cheap alcohols made the Jungle Juice tonight. Konan eyed you warily. Your cup kept filling up, and up, to the brim. Once it threatened to break the surface tension over the rim, you were satisfied and brought it to your lips, gulping down several shots worth in seconds.
"O-okay." Konan patted your shoulder and sipped her reasonably sized drink, tilting her head to the den.
You stood there, stoic, stiff, unmoving.
She nodded over yonder, then escalated to flicking her gaze to the doorway in a very persuasive manner, arching her brows in the process.
You blew bubbles into your drink, facial features in a flat line of refusal.
"Forget about him and have some fun," she pleaded. "I know he's a fucking jerk and already made himself an ass, but that shouldn't keep you from dancing with me." She stepped to you and entwined her fingers with yours, scrunching her nose in a sly smile. "Besides, wouldn't it be fun to make him a little jealous."
"It's not like that." You glared at her back, following in her stead like usual in your relationship. "Seeing me having fun won't make him jealous."
"For one of the sharpest students in school, you really can be dumb sometimes."
Your indignation was swallowed by the change of scenery. Music reigned control of your senses, pumped your blood, rumbled your chest, crushed your lungs.
For your own well being, you kept your gaze on her heels, or the bottom of your cup as you tilted it back, letting the burn of alcohol control your taste as well. She led you to the middle of the dance floor. Skin and tight black clothing surrounded you. Someone on the stairs had a water gun filled with soapy water, raining it down on the convulsing bodies below.
The water and bubbles cooled your skin on this sweltering Halloween night.
You shut your eyes from all temptations. Technicolor lights passed over your eyelids in mesmerizing patterns. The alcohol slowed your overworked mind. Konan's writhing steered you in a tempo, your legs braided together like two snakes. Twisting and turning. Grinding your hips to hers. Hands wandering over the other. You flicked the zipper seconds from busting from the strain across her cleavage, she slipped hers under your skirt's hem to lift it higher, brushing her fingertips over your ass.
Downing the last of your drink, you crushed the weak plastic and tossed it on the littered floor.
A beer can bounced off your shoe during your dance and you became aware of a presence at your back; a tall man by your guess, cementing his arm around your waist. You peeped an eye open and saw it was Hidan, one of Konan's friends. He was saying something to her and she responded by giggling, looking him up and down, cheeks darkening in a blush at his lack of shirt and tight black pants. She nodded and flapped her hand, inviting him into your circle. His black and white Grim Reaper face paint ticked up in a smile, to you, and to her.
Soap bubbles burst on your chest, rendering the shirt see through, but you didn't care.
You smiled at Hidan. Too wide and too tipsy.
Too tipsy to stop yourself.
In the booming silence of a song fading and switching over to the next on the playlist, the dots of orange lights slowed. They widened to large circles, trailing lazily over the white walls, and your eyes picked one to track.. over to the fireplace.
Surely your drunken mind was playing tricks on you because standing there, brooding, hiding the disgust in his sneer behind his drink was none other than Obito. Glaring at you. Pissed. Towering over his friend who was clapping his shoulder, harking a hyena laugh at a joke he just told, but Obito didn't move. Didn't blink. Unaware his fingers were dimpling the plastic cup in anger.
Your eyes met in recognition. At first instinct you averted yours to the ground, acting like you meant to do a twirl in Hidan's arms. But you glanced back. Just to see. Just to check. And Obito's strong brow casted his eyes in darkness. The lights returned to their confusing spinning. The music resumed. Hidan grinded on your front, Konan on your back.
Finding the bottomless depth of the back of your eyelids more enjoyable, you closed them and tried to forget about Obito and make the most of the night. As intriguing as his anger was, he was more than likely glaring at you for merely existing. Nothing more. Yet, your face burned under his intense stare boring into your soul, putting you under a microscope to be studied.
The alcohol worked to dull your senses. The top layer of your skin failed to give you feedback, instead only feeling the prodding of Hidan's palm on your swaying ass and Konan's equally lazy rocking you side to side. Her breath coasted over the curls of baby hairs at your nape, plastered with sweat. Her arms hugged your middle, slippery from the soapy water. You hung your head back to her shoulder and let her thumbs lift your wet shirt an inch while you ran your fingers along the crease of her butt cheek.
Examining the crowd around you, other couples were doing the same on all sides. Pairing off and getting handsy.
You gave Hidan a lopsided grin in your daze and he laughed, shouting something about the edible he ate earlier kicking in. You joined in on his laughter, not quite understanding what he said, but he seemed happy nonetheless.
Then, against your better judgement, you scanned the room again. Well, you looked to one spot in particular.
Obito was by himself at the fireplace. No friends. No girlfriend in sight. Only his stilled frame, like a wild cat waiting in the thicket to attack.
As soon as you registered his sheer overwhelming presence across the room, he was using his broad frame to shoulder people out of the way. Shoving people with such vigor his arms flexed hard-earned muscle in stiff peaks in the scant lighting. The scars on his cheek tugged taut in a fierce frown. His scowl set on you. Only you.
You were being hunted.
You jerked upright from leaning on Konan and stuttered something to Hidan. He swiveled his head, confused; even more so when he was abruptly propelled into another couple, profusely apologizing to them.
Konan ensnared your waist, reveling in the way Obito fixed her with his rage. "Fuck off, loser. She's mine." Sealing the deal, she nudged her nose to your ear and whisper-shouted, "See, told you he'd get jealous."
Your bewilderment went from wonderment at her words to his face, questioning why he was here ruining your good time.
Because he was Obito, and this is what he did. Ruin good things for you.
"We need to talk," he said gruffly. He grabbed your upper arm and pulled you from Konan's hold; which she dropped, allowing him to take you. You braced your legs and wrung your neck to yell at her for her lax attitude, but you didn't get the words out. He was too powerful, easily leading you away from her and to the stairwell to the second floor.
Obito commanded the width of the stairs. Banister to wall. Lower and upper classmen alike leapt out of his way. His hand on you burned white hot. His fingers tight, squeezing his calloused palm over your smooth skin. A freshman surrendered his newly opened can of beer to Obito's gesturing.
You watched the guy mope down each step to the dance floor and to the kitchen for a new one.
Your pondering didn't last. A sharp jerk directed you to the only unlocked door.
Obito pushed you in and flicked on the light. The fluorescent bulb buzzed, adding to the ambiance of the peeled yellow wallpaper and stained bathtub. The sink could use quite a bit of scrubbing as well, and you definitely weren't checking the state of the toilet.
The click of the lock jolted your nerves, impressing a silence upon the room as if you passed into an alternate dimension and left the cacophonous party on the other side of the wall behind. He dropped his hand from the knob and you stopped your inspection of the bathroom, waiting on bated breath at the sound of his footsteps crossing the room in a fraction of the steps it took you.
Ready to confront him, you turned, steeling your spine and opening your mouth to air your frustrations.
He rendered you silent.
Your teeth ached.
You processed his moves slowly. The way he snatched your jaw between his hand. His thumb prodding your gums painfully. Tipping your chin up to make you watch him down the beer in one long gulp, his eyes always on you. He crushed the can and tossed it into the sink, beer dribbling over the deep scar on his lip.
Alcohol dampened your own wits.
Defying your forced obedience to him, you reached around his arm and pushed your fogged glasses up your nose, regarding him with a bored expression.
"What did you want to talk about?" you ground out, cheeks squished in his hold. "Or did you drag me away from my friends just to put gum in my hair again? Hmm, or maybe you want to smash my glasses too, really break them beyond repair this time. Ooh, or perhaps, if I'm so lucky, you're here to ask me to write an essay for you? Which is it?"
"None of those things." Obito's annoyingly handsome face curled into a snarky smile. "Besides, you couldn't do my Calculus homework to save your life."
His jab at your intelligence didn't hurt anymore.
This was how Obito treated you for nearly the last decade, but you remembered a time when he was so very different.
When you were a kid, you moved cities and on your first day at a new school, you met Obito. He was new too. It was an odd thing to bond over, but teachers immediately paired you two together. You became friends easily, stuck to each other's side during recess, lunch, gym class. For the longest time it was just you two. Year after year.
Then something changed. You blamed hormones. Slowly, jokes about being the teacher's pet wore on your nerves. Obito excelled at sports and no longer wanted to be paired with you, instead opting for the boys who snickered at your frizzy hair and hand-me-down clothing. Joining them in their mocking. Stepping it up a notch to impress them. Year after year.
He strayed. Beat you down. Your home life got worse, your parents lost their jobs, divorced, took their failings out on you. Academics was all you had. But it took a toll on you. As much as you loved school, it didn't love you. Your focus was spent on your growling stomach, the sharp pains between your aching shoulders from staying up late, the record tape of your parents yelling at each other over your flunking grades and blaming you for not being good enough to qualify for a scholarship as your hold on valedictorian slipped, year after year.
"Why did you bring me in here?" you asked again in a monotone voice. "What could you possibly talk to me about?"
"I didn't want to talk about anything," he said, closing the distance between you by snapping his pelvis to yours. The sharp pain in your hip bones could be overlooked, but the unmistakable length of something else pressed against your stomach could not. He dug his thumb into your cheek, forcing your mouth open. "I brought you here because I was fucking tired of seeing you flirt with someone else."
His face honed in on yours, his full lips smacking just a touch away from yours caught in his grasp. The vibrato of his deep voice reverberated in your lungs. Accidentally, your nose brushed over his.
"What's it matter to you?"
"It matters a whole hell of a lot," he said. He drew you in as he stepped back, keeping your bodies pressed together to maintain the teasing of his lips of yours. Another step back and another pull of his arm around your waist-ensuring you replaced your memories of Hidan's with his. Another step. Your devilish tango continued until he banged against the door, rattling it on its hinges.
On the wall adjacent, a floor length mirror reflected your embraced bodies. Your assumptions were assured. His pleated skirt sprung forth. The paleness of his upper thighs was on display. The edge of his black boxers peeked out and the length of his erection stretched the fabric tight.
"You want it, baby?" he murmured in your ear, nuzzling his nose against your scalp and smirking at your wandering eyes in the mirror. "I've pictured you on your knees so many times."
He draped his hand over yours and guided it over the ripple of his abs, down to the coarse cotton of his tented underwear. His hard cock twitched as he pressed your fingers to it. A timid glide along his shaft. Testing the hardness of his cock. Testing the years of repressed feelings simmering under his skin.
He didn't wait to see your reaction. He didn't want to know.
You sucked in a breath as his lips grazed over the sensitive parts of your neck and his hushed moan sent goosebumps down your forearms. "I thought you hated me," you said.
The heat of his cock blazed in your palm. Friction warmed you, administered by him pumping your hand over his girth. Sliding your fingers up to his leaking head. A dark spot bloomed through his skirt.
Enraptured, you watched yourself jerk him off in the mirror until he was no longer helping move your hand.
A stunted moan released from his throat as he pulled back the collar of your shirt to kiss your clavicle. "I never hated you."
"Then why are you so mean to me?"
Like a cold splash of water to the face, he stopped his docile peppering of kisses to capture the back of your head, turning your face forward to witness the pools of hunger in his eyes. His bicep pulsed, his jaw too, trying to calm those feelings boiling to the surface. "Let's never forget you started this."
Guilt was a dull knife at your ribs. "Obito.. That was so long ago.. You were already moving on-"
"Wanna know why I brought you in here?"
"Sure," you sighed.
"To see your face when I tell you to suck my cock."
Cold seeped in from the unlatched window in the shower. Music vibrated the floor beneath your feet, but in the bathroom, silence penetrated your bones, punctuated each sentence, permeated in between beats of the heart.
Incredulity licked flames to your neck.
But drunken bravery imbued your blood.
You rested your chest to his, stroking him faster. Raw elation lit your dulled nerves on fire as his face pinched in confusion. You weren't reacting how he expected. "Are you still dating Ri-"
"We're not dating anymore," he said, terse and final. His tone turned sour, "What about you and the Track star? Off to the Olympics, is he?"
"We broke up months ago."
The admission flashed in his eyes. Savage jealousy mixed with menacing acknowledgement that he was victorious.
He won.
Obito brushed a loose lock of hair over your ear, fingers trembling in restrained excitement on your scalp as he combed it back. He rocked his hips. Filling your fist and fluttering his eyes. "Don't you know it's a social faux pas to show up to a party wearing the same outfit?" he rasped. His tongue tasted the salt on your neck. "One of us has got to change."
Glistening canines sank into tender flesh. You let out a swift curse, but he didn't let up. Running his teeth over the raw spot, wearing it thin, pricking the fragile skin on your throat until it bruised. Marking you as his.
The back of your skirt lifted. His hand stung you, slapping your cheek to his palm while his other delved under your shirt, peeling the soaked fabric from your ribs to access your bra. Ghosts of touches sent tingles from the top of your head to your toes.
Your knees weakened. His calloused fingertips found your bralette. Expertly, he circled your hard nipple through the fabric, pinching it lightly with his index and thumb. As your body arched to his, you flattened your palm against his clothed cock. Rubbing up and down as much as you could in the cramped space between your hips. Your other hand anchored itself on his waist. Not cupping his jaw like your heart yearned for. Longing to feel the stab of his stubble as you caressed his cheek. Such an intimate act was reserved for couples, not for whatever you were to him. Whatever this was.. a momentary lapse in better judgement.
"You've pictured me on my knees?" you brought up from earlier, evading the host of weak emotions you still had for him in lieu of the news ones cropping up; boiling passion from being the object of his desire. "Did you come thinking about me?"
"Not just thinking about you," he chuckled. "I have a few choice photos I prefer." Lust prickled your hot cheeks, darkening your face at the bold confession. "Like one time in class when you were wearing a short skirt like this-" he squeezed your ass "-and you were bent over your desk and I had my phone out.. Rin found them once. I promised her I would delete them, but I didn't."
Your stomach clenched. His fully engorged erection twitched in your hand, serving as a reminder of why you were truly here, as much as his words thrilled you.
It was his turn to go shy. Alcohol and embarrassment reddened his nose. Not wanting to see your wide-mouth astonishment, he tucked your face to the crook of his neck and took the final minuscule step back to seal himself to the door, bringing you with him. Leaning your body into his.
He traced the edge of the cup over the swell of your breasts and hooked a finger over the hem. The back of his fingernail grazed your nipple and your whine changed to a moan as he did the same to your panties, teasing the lace lining your hip with threats of more. You adjusted your hand on his cock to wrap your thumb around the tip and stroked over the lipped edge outlined through his damp boxers. An achy groan hung in the back of his throat as your hand moved down his length.
"That's it, baby," he whispered, releasing your tits from their cells to grope them freely. He pulled his head away to observe your enraptured half-lidded adoration. Moans flowed easier from you the longer he watched your writhe under his administration. Under your skirt, he encroached on your cunt.
You jerked away.
Obito drew his brows together and slowed his pinching on your nipple. Perplexed, wondering if you were having second thoughts. If he crossed a boundary.
The gentle touches fucked with your brain all the more. They were so.. soft. Loving. His eyes held a tenderness not known to you. You had to move on, get out of his trap.
"You want me to suck your cock?" you breathed, stuttering slightly in your haze.
The crease between his brows eased to arch one. You were back to your fumbling self, pushing up your glasses, scantily looking him in the eye and courage waning with each word. You virtually handed him the power over you.
"I bet Rin's better than you-"
A lightning strike whip-crack of jealousy thundered in your belly.
This motherfucker knew you too well.
Your shoulders heaved.
In the blink of an eye. No, probably slower than that in your blurred perspective. It was all happening at the same time. You forgot about his dick in your hand. You left it behind to wrap your arms around his neck. Your legs were tangled together, shoving him into the locked door.
Your lips were on his. A clumsy kiss, but exactly what you needed to shut him up. And the biggest surprise of all, he welcomed you in an embrace. Like he wanted it too.
It wasn't real, none of it was real. You weren't a couple sharing a passionate moment. This was purely self-indulgence.
His lips smashed to yours. His tongue in your mouth, introducing itself to yours in quick caresses. You lost yourself in it, smothering moans in the kiss at the same time as him. Until you felt his hands on your back. Stroking your spine with his knuckles. It was too kind, too considerate.
You cut the kiss short and stepped away.
Again, he appeared confused, his hands pausing in the air around your waist, not touching you.
However, he had no reason to worry. You'd make him feel good and then move on with your life; hopefully to one of mutually ignoring each other.
You sank to your knees. Hands dragging across the slope of his neck, the curve of his round shoulders. A brush of fingertips over his cropped shirt to the blazing skin of his abs. Smoothing over his hips to grasp his meaty thighs. His cock was caught in the descent under your ample tits, bobbing up to your chin as you widened your stance on the linoleum floor.
The pleated skirt sat atop his protruding black boxers. From his view, his cockhead obscured your mouth when you looked up at him for affirmation. He nodded.
When he was with Rin, his mind would wander. Picture other things. Envision other fantasies. But he had no reason to do that anymore. Not with you enacting them. Right now he was completely engrossed in you, only you, and what you were doing to him.. for him.
You rubbed your thumbs over his tense thighs, ruffling the coarse black hair there. You weren't sure why you did it; to soothe the pensiveness in his reserved expression? Or maybe to confirm that despite your hatred for him, and his for you, you wanted this as much as he did.
Whatever it was, the blip of empathy you had for him disappeared.
You pushed your glasses up your nose and addressed the prominent figure in front of you. "You want me to suck your cock," you said, voice carefully neutral, almost bored, "like this?" You gripped him over the fabric and gave him a demure kitten lick as a test.
Obito's lashes batted and his body relaxed to another lick. "Yes."
"And this?" you asked innocently before taking his entire tip into your mouth and suckling, creating obscene noises.
"Y-Yes." His hand swept over yours on his thigh-a passing brush, a brief touch-it meant nothing. He brought it to the back of your head, tangling his fingers in your hair while his other hand pushed down the waistband of his boxers, shaking with eagerness. "Make me come, baby."
His massive cock bounded out of its cage. The reddened tip bounced up and down like a carrot on a stick. Enticing you to taste it.
Obito gripped his leaking cock and brought it to your mouth, the pressure the back of your head pushed it past your lips and you moaned for him, reveling in the short grunt of his surprise as you accepted him willingly. Wetting his length. Swallowing him without assistance. You locked eyes with him and that's when he understood you were trying to wrestle dominance from him.
He didn't like that.
"Y'know, Rin did this thing where-"
You clasped your hand over his still holding his cock and started pumping his shaft, bobbing your head to coat him in your saliva. Your tongue lapped the thick vein leading to the treasure you cupped in your palm, massaging lightly.
"Haa, baby," Obito moaned. His boxers slid to encircle his knees. Clenching his ass to steady his hips, he stamped down his ego and yielded control to you. You used his hand to stroke what you couldn't choke down. Your tongue flicked his frenulum at every pass. The grip of your lips slid over his head, in its delicate stage of requesting more friction, faster, and his brain begging not to come so soon.
His thighs shook. Your throat accepted the drips of his precum graciously.
He tipped his head to the side, admiring your sunken cheeks sucking him off so nicely. "Touch yourself for me." His voice was low, gentle, words wrapped in a cool breeze on a hot day. His hold on your hair lessened so he could rub little circles on your stinging scalp.
You hummed a question over his length and lifted a suspicious brow. It's not like he could see what was happening under your skirt if you did what he asked. Was there a hidden malice here? Did he have his phone on him somewhere and wanted to take another photo of you in a compromising position?
His lips parted in a light groan while you fondled his balls as a way to ask if he was sure he wanted you hand busy pleasuring yourself instead of him. "Do it," he commanded without conviction. In fact, it sounded like an earnest request.
You surrendered your hold on his tightening sac to move your hand under your skirt, over your underwear. He looked in the mirror and so did you.
Your mouth was stuffed with him. A peek of your wrist driving back and forth, your skirt whipping in the vigor of your fingers twitching over your clit. Your attention was ripped from the lewd act to his face, interested in which he found more sensual, but he wasn't watching either. He was waiting for your eyes to meet.
A strange warmth passed in that single glimpse.
It alarmed you.
You worked him harder. Took his length, pumping the rest of him in time with your mouth. Pushed your panties to the side to circle your clit and lend your pleasure to him in crazed whines from the back of your throat where his throbbing red tip resided. Your obsessive coaxing led his hand to tangle in your hair again, grabbing it in knots, twisting it and quickening the rocking of his hips, gliding your buzzing lips over his girth.
"That's it," he hissed the compliment. Every now and then he glanced in the mirror to roam over your submissive state, indifferent to who was technically in control. His head was swimming. You managed to give him the best head of his life and look so fucking hot while doing it. From your arched back, to your thighs tensing and bringing in your knees to constrict around your deft fingers.
You received him, all of him, until his cock crowded your throat. Your fingers merely provided assistance at his mound, helping to angle his hard cock down to your level. He cradled his balls as you had; something a woman had never done for him and he found himself loving the sensation of the little touches on the most sensitive parts of him-your tongue taking care of the other. Drawing back, you lapped at his tip, swirling your tongue over it and diving in for more, now craving the weight of him in your mouth.
All the while, he bucked his hips at an erratic pace. His thighs began to quiver. "B-Babe," he croaked. His ever present palm on the back of your head drove you forward and back in a fevered rhythm, yet his fingers caressed your nape in an odd consolation. His quick, heavy breaths shook his entire body.
"I'm gonna come-"
Noticing his limbs losing strength, you hopped off his throbbing cock and looked up at him, knowing for sure your smirk was outlined by your swollen lips. Your defiant eyes pierced his. Leaning back slightly to show off how you were touching yourself while he stood there flabbergasted.
He clasped his weeping cock and stroked frantically. "I either come in your mouth or on your face." You smiled coyly at his warning. Relishing in his bafflement that you would risk dirtying your glasses for him, but in the end, you parted your lips and rolled out your tongue, bringing it to his head like a red carpet awaiting its esteemed guest. His fingers grazed your chin and he smiled assuredly to himself and whispered, "Good girl."
A few more pumps and he was sighing your name. He slumped against the door and you chased his cock at the first sign of his climax, whipping your hand from your needy cunt to dig your fingernails in his thigh.
Thick ropes of cum shot over your pink tongue, slithered down your throat. Taking a moment to swallow proved to be a mistake. He came on your lips and you licked it away while lapping up the rest from his spent cockhead. Overstimulating him in the sweetest way.
Obito whined and jerked back, only to be stopped by the door. He kept his trembling hand on his cock nestled up to your chin. Your suckling on the very tip sent him convulsing, doubling over at the pressure of your mouth. Never once did you break eye contact. And neither did he as you drained him for all he was worth.
Once you were certain he had nothing left to give, and the praise of his fingers on your scalp became too soft for your liking, you stood up and rinsed your mouth in the sink. His crushed beer can dinged on the ceramic sides, caught in the waves.
"That was.. amazing," he exhaled, tucking himself into his boxers and running his hands through his hair.
As you turned off the tap, two hands landed on either side of the basin, confining you, causing you to submit to his chest pressed against your back and his breath at your neck. Delicate kisses trailed your dewy skin up your jaw, over your cheek, nudging you with his nose until you turned your face to his and he captured you in an affectionate kiss. A small wordless thanks.
Your brain tried to shut out the revolting act, but it was etched there. Forever taunting you at how nice it felt to be appreciated.
Your chain of thought broke.
His hands wandered to grab a handful of your hip, giving it a squeeze and letting go to smooth his palm in the dip of your waist, cool to the touch from gripping the sink. Fingers as light as a feather's touch tickled your ribs. He seemed tamed, satisfied even, after you got on your knees for him, but his touch turned harsh. Rough.
Your bralette, rolled down and caught under your breast, acted as your leash in his hands.
He yanked you over to the floor length mirror via your own undergarments. Your stuttering refusal only aided your stumbling when he tugged you harder, forcing you to comply.
"What are you-"
"Watch me," he spoke over your shoulder as he stood behind you.
Your deep breaths pushed your tits into his hands, aggravating you more as the realization set in. You did him a favor and he still found it within himself to tease you.
You sighed and looked him square in the eye through the mirror.
What a mistake this whole night was.
His visage glowed in triumph.
Obito was in control again.
He drove his hands up and over your head. A flash of white flew past you, knocking your glasses. You scoffed at him and he mumbled an apology. It was a quick puff of air, but Obito Uchiha actually apologized to you. You righted your glasses and frowned. Your shirt laid in a heap on the floor.
"I've wanted to do this for so long.." he moaned in your ear, hands hovering, possibly shaking from the rush of excitement stimulating his nerves when he caught you off guard. "Put your hands behind my neck."
"Huh?"
"Put them behind my neck and keep them there," he said, then added, softer, "or in my hair.. Whichever you want."
You rolled the stress from your shoulders, but ultimately listened to his weird whims. You reached behind you and opted to lace your fingers behind the nape of his neck. Following his next prompt, you looked at your reflection and regretted it. You were exposed. Vulnerable to whatever he wanted. A tool for him to get off on again.
Obito traced your bralette propping up your breasts. You sucked in your bottom lip. Anticipation stood your hair on end, waiting to see how he'd use this position to his advantage when his cock remained soft at your backside.
He hooked his fingers around the fabric and threw you a mischievous grin. Panic widened your eyes.
"Wait!"
He jerked on the fragile mesh, his smile stretching ear to ear at the first sounds of popping threads.
"Obito," you pleaded, which appeared to egg him on. All at once, he put his entire strength into tearing it down the middle. The seams screamed in agony. Threads snapped. The fabric held together until it couldn't, succumbing to him the same as you did.
Shreds of black fell to the floor. Your tits bounced freely and he caught them in his impatient palms, hungry thumbs running over your hard nipples before your breasts could stop jiggling. The moan you let out could surely be heard outside the room.
Obito allowed himself to cherish the moment for what it was. Trusting him enough to be intimate with you. The weight of your head resting on his shoulder. Your ass gyrating over his spent cock. He sized up his reflection and surmised this is what could've been. What it would've been like if you came to this party as a couple and danced together.
But you were the one who rejected him first.
"Why did you date Kakashi?"
You announced your annoyance in a groan of his name, "Obito."
"No. Answer me. Why did you turn me down and then say yes to him all in the same day? Do you know how fucking bad that hurt me?"
The utter opposites of being at the end of his anger and the mouth-watering sensation of his fingers tweaking your nipples put a hammer to your brain, cracking it in half and neither side functioning at their full capacity.
"You were already being mean to me.." you said meekly. "You made fun of me. Stopped hanging out with me-" You interrupted yourself, gasping as he pinched your harder. He slapped your elbow, reminding you to keep your fingers laced tightly behind his neck. "And I saw the way you looked at Rin in class. When you started pairing up with her in algebra.." You wished the pinch in your throat was an outcry of the pleasure he was giving you, but bringing up these old memories turned the fire in your chest on high. "Why did you date her?"
"You didn't answer." His gruff voice sent shivers down your spine, evolving to goosebumps when he tapped his shoe on your Mary Janes and you complied, sliding your feet further apart. Scuffing the floor in black streaks. Opening your legs for him. "Look at me when you answer me. Why him?"
No matter how much he enraged you, there was always that part of you that never matured past seeking Obito's validation. The competitive side of you goaded the blooming jealousy in your stomach, telling yourself that you were the winner here on this day, in this bathroom. Obito was doing this to you, not her.
Yet, you saw red the moment her infuriating name passed your lips. Swearing long ago you would never disgrace your tongue with those letters.
Damn this man who had you blinking away the yearning from your gaze whilst having a chokehold on the bitterness lacing your words, "Kakashi was there for me when you weren't. He hung out with me when you were busy with your new friends."
"And you want to know why I dated Rin?" You were having your regrets, but you nodded. "Because I saw the way you looked at him during games. I'd be in the outfield and I'd wave to get your attention, but you were always looking at the pitcher." He groped your breasts together in one large hand, managing to put his thumb and middle finger to both your nipples to ensure your moans never stopped. His other hand, however, traveled lower. To the waistband of your skirt. Then just past. Lifting the hem.
Whatever he was about to say was lost to the void of his gaped mouth. Your bare cunt flashed him. He traced over your hip to your underwear shoved to the side. Two fingers. Two fingers traced your thong to the top of your slit. You unfurled your fingers on his neck a bit, just enough to brush a few locks of his hair into your grasp.
Your breath hitched.
He took the plunge. "This is why you didn't want me to touch you earlier." He pressed his temple above your ear and laughed, kissing any part of you available to him. "You're soaking wet for me, baby." His light mockery should've embarrassed you, but it felt too good. Obito was making you feel good. Even his genuine grin didn't scare you anymore.
"You didn't.. Ah, you didn't answer me," you said amidst moans. His fingers gathered the fluids slicking your thighs and brought it to your apex, running smooth calluses over your delicate clit. He went back to your entrance for more, stretching you over his large fingers, rocking them into you.
"Same reason. She was there for me."
He was clearly over talking about this, but you weren't. "She took my fucking scholarship, Obito-"
"We both dated each other's rivals, so what," he snapped, figuratively and literally at your neck, adding to the lovebites on your skin. You yanked at his hair and he fucked you harder. To the point of shoving his knee between your quaking thighs to keep them open.
"I have to work two jobs just to go to school here," you admitted. "I could've used that money."
"Then quit them." What superb financial advice from the boy whose family is loaded. "I'll pay for whatever you need."
"I can't-"
"You will." Your hands slipped from behind his head. Too absorbed by the conversation, you didn't feel him grab your underwear. He knelt behind you. The black thong snapped around your thighs as it left your round cheeks. You fidgeted with the skirt hem in the front like it offered you any modesty. If you thought you were exposed before, he was about to prove you wrong. "So fucking perfect," he said, sinking his teeth into the meat of your ass to mark you there as well,
Whining at his indecency, you stepped out of the thong and he tossed it on top of your shirt. In the mirror you could see him looking up at the side of your face, eyes wide in giddiness.
"If you go out there like this, people won't think we're wearing the same outfit."
You buried your face in your hands. Partly to echo your groan at his terrible joke, partly to hide your grin. A grin that was quickly snuffed as you gathered your wits.
"I think you should know something.." Since you were in diapers, Rin managed to follow in your footsteps. Then overtake them, spitting on your footprints and stomping them into mud. Your mothers were long-time friends, thus you were expected to be the same, but the girl had it out for you. You thought you outsmarted her when you moved cities. You thought you escaped her. And it worked for a few peaceful years. Then one day, when you went to sit next to Obito in your morning class, there she was, in your seat by pure happenstance. Smiling wickedly at your falters. Ensuring your setbacks. Excelling in the places you lacked and exploiting your weaknesses for the sole reason of taking your opportunities. Her spite knew no bounds. Especially when it came to boys. "Rin.. I think she only showed interest in you because she knew I liked you."
Obito pushed himself off his knees to stand behind you. His imposing height cut off the top of his head in the mirror, however, his mouth was visible. An impassive flat line. Unreadable. "I don't want to talk about her or Kakashi anymore. We were miserable together, anyway."
"Okay," you whispered, a revelation of shock evident on your face.
To conclude the conversation years in the making, he spun you around and started a different one, also years in the making.
He seized your face in his palms, fingers stroking your hair from your cheeks and kissing you so blatantly out of tenderhearted passion instead of lust it lurched your heart, dilated your pupils. You let his tongue in without asking. Wanting it there. Craving his attention. You cupped his jaw while he caressed your body. Drawing you in so your curves filled out the hollows of his.
Safety enveloped him. A certain comfort knowing he was about to let himself feel for you without restriction. It was a gamble; you could reject him like you did in the past, but he was willing to take the risk again.
Minutes were spent giggling, moaning. Pressing your naked front to his in effort to stave off the chill on your skin. He answered by running his hands over the length of you, squeezing and pinching wherever he liked, eliciting a response in the form of your smile on his lips.
Suddenly, his kisses pressed harder, guiding you in a direction, using his body to push you backwards. Step by step until you couldn't anymore. The door rattled at your backside.
He smothered you to the door. Enclosing you on all sides. His legs bracketing yours, his arms pinning you in, his hands on your shoulders, thumbs stroking soothing patterns. He observed you down his crooked nose-broken during a rugby match-and he asked, "Do you trust me?"
"Not really," you answered somewhat truthfully.
He angled his face and you tipped your chin, accepting his punishing kisses. Flooding the heat in your core with temptation.
"Do you trust me?" he rasped.
Your breaths picked up pace, peeling your back off the door in an arch at the first gentle brush of his fingers on your nipples. A ploy to distract you. And it worked. "Sure."
Except he took his hands away. You pouted at him, nipples aching at his absence.
He'd make it up to you.
Obito bent his knees to level his face to your chest. "These are perfect. I'm almost mad at you for keeping them from me for this long." He smiled at the adorable quirk of confusion in your furrowed brows. To alleviate your displeasure, he opened his mouth. Your lonely nipples were no longer filled with resentment. He welcomed them to the shelter of his lips and the warm blanket of his tongue. Swirling around one, retreating to blow a puff of cool air on it, and switching to the other.
"Fuck," you moaned when he suckled harder. You raked your hands through his hair, obeying your order from earlier. He released an amused rumble of laughter from deep within his chest.
God, he loved it when you yanked at his hair, steering his mouth exactly where you wanted it.
But you were still too reserved.
Not courageous enough to show him what you truly desired.
He sank to his knees. The same as you did for him. Renouncing your questions with defiance glinting in his eyes. "Put your legs on my shoulders."
You glanced in the mirror to make sure you were seeing this correctly. He was knelt before you, most definitely. And most definitely offering something lewd in that sultry voice of his that sent heat to your cheeks. "My legs.. on your shoulders?" You hesitated.
His patience wore thin. He hooked a hand under your leg and did it for you, tossing your thigh over his shoulder and grabbing at the other one.
Your skirt fanned his face. Your pussy quivering at the proximity of his downturned lips as you failed to comply. "Babe," he said, annoyed. He dipped his vacant shoulder under your leg and helped you up.
"Obito!" you yelled, scrambling for purchase on any surface when your feet left the floor. Your knuckles walloped the handle of the door, and a sharp hiss gritted out between your teeth at your newly bruised hand. Stuck on this wild ride, you pressed your palms to the door and worked yourself upright as he brought his knees in. Far too preoccupied to notice his smug grin on account of your wet cunt presenting itself.
"Trust me."
You'd do anything to keep him talking. The vibrations of his voice combined with the puckering of his lips as he spoke on your clit. Fuck, you wanted to come to him reciting a textbook if that's what it took.
You dared another glimpse at the mirror, prying your eyes from his mess of hair sticking out from under your skirt.
Reflections of truths as you knew them. You were riding his shoulders, that was a fact. Your hands were in his hair, also a fact. He had you suspended against the door, his gorgeous muscles flexing to hold you up. Certainly true.
What you tried to debate was the brimming wanton lust in your sinew that told you to move your hands. Lift your skirt. Hold it so you could see his face while he made you come. Hold it so he could see your bliss.
You did it without thinking.
You clutched your skirt's hem and hiked it up, revealing the parts of his face not buried in your pussy. He stared at you in disbelief at first, then schooled the wrinkles in his forehead to mild surprise, then further relaxed himself into breaking down his walls, showing you how badly he pined for you.
"Trust me," he repeated his mantra.
You kept eye contact. And so did he. "I do."
You let go. He embraced.
His skilled tongue delved into your slick entrance for a quick taste before flattening it to your sensitive cunt and dragging it up the length to your throbbing clit. Swollen and begging to be demolished.
Your trembling fingers let go of the skirt and he took over, scrunching it to your waist so you could focus on your own pleasure, and, perhaps, run your fingernails across his scalp.
Obito moaned on your clit as you combed his hair off his forehead, which you openly verbalized your enjoyment of, asking him in shaky breaths to keep moaning for you. To make you feel wanted.
"That's my girl." Your inner thighs clenched around his face. "Come for me."
Your head thunked on the thin wood of the door, still watching him. His body squirmed as he put his all into suckling on your clit. A full body experience. His boxers pitching another tent at the sound of his name on your lips.
"Obi," you cried, running a thumb over one of the scars on his cheek. You crossed your ankles and grinded your hips to his tender tongue honoring you beyond what you deserved.
He twisted your skirt in his hands. His ardent gaze stoked the fire in your core. "Touch yourself," he permitted.
You obeyed without question, leaving one hand in his hair and using the other to pinch your nipples, switching between them as they became oversensitive from his fixation.
"Make me come," you pleaded. He obeyed.
He wrapped his lips over your clit and sucked while his tongue lapped at your hood.
"Faster," you begged.
His tongue curled, flicking your clit. Twitching over the bundle of nerves rendering you a mess. Your chorus of moans rang in his ears. Listening to your cries, he applied more pressure using the suction of his lips. You twisted your fist and his hair fell from your useless, languid vise. You were simply cupping your breasts at this point, not having to wherewithal to administer your own pleasure.
Obito lapped up your adoration. Bathed in it. Swam in your praise. Let the apprehensive gleam of affection in your eyes excite him, inciting a drive to show you that all you felt, all the conflicting turmoil coalescing in that single look-he felt it too.
"Obito!" He moaned at the sweet utterance of his name in your shuddering breath.
Searing lust seized your core. Your thighs gripped his face, his blush warmed your skin. Your pussy pulsed with each heartbeat, each lick of his tongue, each whimper as you stopped resisting the wave of shameful longing you had for someone who treated you so poorly for so many years to awash you in a renewed connection. Acceding to his apologetic tongue.
Obito dropped all lustful pretense from his gaze. He bunched your skirt into place and left it there; balancing you on his shoulders alone to find your hands. And hold them. Displaying his repressed love for you in his actions, in the remorseful stroke of his thumb in your palm.
His skill initiated your climax, but the pure enthusiasm present in his body as you orgasmed on his mouth, and the attraction in your combined stares, and the harmony of moaning each other's names at your peak sparked something new.
"Fu.. Fuck." You shivered through the amorous stirs in your aching head.
Obito steadied you against the door and watched you carefully as he brought your fingers to his lips and kissed them before helping you climb off his shoulders.
You grasped on one another as you stood, dizzy from your exchange of favors. "Well," you started to say, "uhm." You wrung your upper arm, covering your breasts while he filled in the blank by picking up your shirt and handing it to you.
He didn't look at you, and you kept your eyes anywhere but his solemn face, carefully composed to exude cold detachment in wake of dwindling endorphins exposing the crux of your issues.
The history of your relationship was a festering wound and one night was not enough to heal it over.
As soon as that door opened, he was your antagonizer and you were the scar tissue deep in his heart. His true love. One who rejected him so cruelly.
"Can we do this again?" you asked.
Hope pained his chest.
The wound bridged a scab.
Obito picked your thong off the floor, appreciating the wet spot he helped create. It was cool to the touch, void of giving the warmth his body craved from you. The spark of a connection you felt fizzled as soon as you came down from your high, and he desperately wanted to experience it again. To nurture it into something worthwhile.
He turned to you, his expression lifting to a suggestion of a light-hearted grin. "Sit next to me in class Monday. The long desk in the back row." He bunched your panties in his fist. "And don't wear these."
You stared gape-mouthed. He pulled his boxers down and stuffed your thong around his half-hard cock, snapping the waistband to his tantalizing abs and throwing you a wink as he made his way to the door, rushing out in fear of you crushing his ego with another rejection.
Then he stopped. Hand on the doorknob. Second guessing himself.
He swiveled around, unsure what to expect, but certainly not predicting your cute fuming, glaring at him with your fist planted on your cocked hip.
Returning to you was the right choice.
You hugged your arms around his thick middle, and he embraced you the same way, hands exploring one last time. Lips kissing anywhere they could. Tongues and teeth tasting, leaving an impression. The bruise you gifted him on his neck matched the one on yours.
"I'm not seeing anyone else, are you?"
You would have laughed at the idea of you of all people choosing to go on dates or hookups with strangers instead of sitting alone in your dorm studying all night, but unfortunately, your mouth was busy trying to satiate itself on kisses until Monday. "No," you murmured on his lips.
"Good. Keep it that way."
He stroked his knuckles on your cheeks a final, prolonged time, then broke away and crossed the threshold to the door. Unlocking it. Turning the knob. Opening it to muggy heat, the smell of alcohol and pot, and an assault of flashing lights and blaring music.
Obito smiled at your reflection in the mirror, and you smiled back.