We didn’t just grow closer in an intimate, sexual way, though. I opened up to him in every way that I could in those moments. We talked, we shared our crazy stories, and I found comfort in the way he would listen so closely, taking every detail in, as I did the same.
He had refused to talk about his past relationships, the real ones anyway. We didn’t talk about Yasmine either – there was no point in me bringing it up, and so I refrained even during times when curiosities got the best of me. I knew her and Theo were having sex, and I almost felt guilty for not being able to give myself up to him wholly just yet, but he wasn’t bothered by this. He had reassured me numerous times that he would wait until I was ready, because I wasn’t exactly a prude around him, and so pleasure never faltered.
Not with him.
I also opened up about Sam – I told him about our lack of sex life, and they way in which he would turn me down every time I tried to get somewhere with him. This took me a while, and he never once forced the topic on me, despite previously regarding relationships as ownership and restriction – in a way, he was right. I was almost certain I didn’t love Sam anymore, because one could not possibly love another and shame them as much as I had by being with Theo.
I also knew that Sam and I tied each other down and claimed one another without any real motive there, and so our relationship merely became a title to the both of us now, because we rarely even saw each other anymore. He was studying his way through the night while I did so during the day. Our apartment was more often than not either completely empty, or only in the company of one of us at a time.
I had games to cheerlead once a week on Fridays, and I would often sleep over in my old dorm room with Lilian through to Saturday morning, after being too exhausted to make the walk back home.
Sam didn’t argue with me on this, but I had a feeling he suspected something hidden at play here.
My suspicions were confirmed on the night he had cleared his schedule to come watch me cheer, and things really started to pick up the pace.
The third week in.
“Not tonight, Theo,” I whined, as he made his way over to me before the game had started. I stopped him from touching me by holding my hand up between us, and he refrained from any advancements.
“What’s wrong?”
“Sam,” I gesture over to the stands with a quick tilt of my head, as he hung his in annoyance.
“Come on, Dove. He can barely make out who’s who from up there.”
“Theo, I can’t. Please just, not tonight, okay?”
He simply smirked and shrugged off my rejection,
“Fine, we’ll see how you feel after watching me play the first half.”
He jogged back over to the team, and once I had finished the opening cheer, all the while trying to compose myself as he stood behind me to the side, smirking every time my skirt would fly up a bit from having to kick out my legs, I had to make my way back over to the corner, and resist not running over to him mid game and rip the kit off his body.
But as soon as the second whistle blew, indicating halftime, I couldn’t contain myself any longer.
And he knew it.
I shot him a quick glance, and his victorious grin took over, as he kept a slight distance from me, and we both made our way over to the back of the stands, trying not to draw any attention.
“So I see you -”
“Shut up,” I protested, and crashed my lips to his, tugging at his hair with such force that he almost lost his balance.
“You have five minutes,” I moaned, as I guided his large hands to my hips, and he gripped onto them as if it was the last thing he’d get to do.
“I think we both know I only need two,” he chuckled, and I pushed his head down, his light laughter vibrating against my sex as his tongue darted out to meet my needs. I needed this – watching him play trapped me into a web of frustration every time, and every time I would count down the minutes to a break, which seemed to last hours, before I could feel his body against mine.
“Always so wet for me,” he hummed, and added a finger to the mix, which I soon learned was my favourite combination.
“I’m going to try for two, okay?”
I honestly could care less what he tried. I couldn’t care for the pain that came with a second finger, I couldn’t care for the familiar soreness I had experienced the first time he had entered me. Because once he curled them inside of me, his tongue soothing the ache on the outside, flicking and swirling, flicking and swirling, I was brought to my climax within seconds, my eyes screwing shut and my cheeks reddening with flush.
“Fuck,” he had groaned, feeling his own erection strain against the fabric of his shorts.
“Mhmm,” I simply agreed, pushing my head to the wall behind me.
“We should get back.”
“Not yet,” I simply replied, and dropped to my knees in front of him once again.
“But you said -”
“I know what I said,” I cut him off, and brought him to his own release, just as he had brought me to mine.
Once I felt the muscles in his legs tighten under my palms, which I had placed on either thigh for support, I pull away, and guide him to empty himself onto my chest, tugging on my uniform as to avoid any obvious stains.
Before he could say anything, I rub my fingers over the liquid, before bringing them to my lips and gently sucking, looking up at him through my eyelashes.
“Dove -”
“Sorry,” I blush, “you just taste so good.”
I will never forget the look on his face that night, after he had fully realised what he was beginning to do to me.
What only he could do to me.