The movie was stupid anyway. Some action thing where nobody cared. He was stretched out on the couch with me in his lap and we were kissing and I was bouncing on him slow, and it felt good enough that I wasn’t even pretending to watch.
His hands were on my waist, guiding me. I had my face in his neck. Everything was quiet except us.
Then the front door opened.
I froze. Actual freeze, mid-motion, absolutely still. His roommate walked in, and I could feel every muscle in his body go tense under me, and for one second I thought he’d pull me off or make me get down or—
He didn’t.
He held my waist tighter and kept thrusting up into me like his roommate wasn’t standing there with a shocked face, wasn’t slowly walking toward the kitchen like maybe he could pretend he hadn’t seen.
His roommate grabbed a beer from the fridge. He was very deliberate about it. He didn’t look back. He went to his room and closed the door and I was already shaking because he didn’t leave, he just left the room, and we were still doing it on a couch five feet from a closed door.
“Oh God,” I whispered.
“I know,” he said, and he pushed up harder, faster, grabbing my hair. “Keep going.”
I rode him like his roommate might come back out. Like the door might open. The thought of getting caught, actually caught, with his roommate hearing—it pushed me over immediately. I came so hard I must have been loud because I heard the door close a little harder, like maybe he was telling us to shut up.
He followed me down, came deep with his teeth on my collarbone.
We didn’t even pause the movie.
