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A Dorm Room at Voorhees Hall, Columbia University, New York, Sunday
Xanthippe was officially Stressed Out.
It was all over an essay, which wasn't even due until next Friday, but it was important and she had to get it perfect, because what if she didn't? What if she didn't, and she flunked out of the class, and she flunked right out of college, and her father would disown her and her mother would disown her and then she would have to move in with Kimmy and deal with that whole freak show and she would lose all status and purpose in life and probably, like, end up becoming BFFs with Kimmy's extra-weirdo landlady and getting matching tattoos in a crack den and --
Anyway, yeah, she was currently doing what any self-respecting college student would do in her situation: screaming into a pillow.
Thank Christ her roommates weren't home right now.
[ooc: NFB but open for texts/calls/surprise visits!]
It was all over an essay, which wasn't even due until next Friday, but it was important and she had to get it perfect, because what if she didn't? What if she didn't, and she flunked out of the class, and she flunked right out of college, and her father would disown her and her mother would disown her and then she would have to move in with Kimmy and deal with that whole freak show and she would lose all status and purpose in life and probably, like, end up becoming BFFs with Kimmy's extra-weirdo landlady and getting matching tattoos in a crack den and --
Anyway, yeah, she was currently doing what any self-respecting college student would do in her situation: screaming into a pillow.
Thank Christ her roommates weren't home right now.
[ooc: NFB but open for texts/calls/surprise visits!]
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Also she sounded smug about stealing the obvious joke.
"You can stay," she added. "Please stay." And it was light enough that it didn't sound like pleading for more time than they had, in the big picture. Just further confirmation that she wanted this visit to stretch longer than a couple of lousy hours.
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And murmur, quietly, "Thanks."
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She nuzzled the side of his neck, but it turned to gently nipping at the spot where neck turned into shoulder. "But, like... to really show you my gratitude, I think I would offer a re-do of something I already did."
Just much less hastily.
Her lips brushed against his skin. "I wanna go down on you," she murmured. "I wanna, like, learn how to do it. The way you like it."
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Also yes, that was the logic of an over-achieving nerd, thanks for noticing!
"But like that instruction thing, yeah, that's what I was going for," she added. "'Cause, I want to know, you know? And also it just sounds like it'd be hot."
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Which, okay, slightly off-topic, but it was an important point to raise.
"But yes," he said, clearing his throat. "Tell me when you wish to begin your tutelage. I'm sure I can rise to the occasion."
Appreciate his humor, Xanthippe. Appreciate it.
"What else do you wish to try?"
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No, he should definitely stay uppity, because his threats of relentless fucking were working for her.
Also distracting her.
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Yes he was.
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He winked at her. "And look I'm not making a joke around that one."
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She did it anyway.
"Yeah I'm pretty sure I already used up all the talk about hard things and my lips, right before now."
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"All of me?"
She was prooobably going somewhere dirty with that. Unsurprisingly.
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Mostly it just seemed like a longer pause than was necessary, on the outside.
She took his hand. "I mean, it's kinda porny, but I was thinking..." She brought his hand up to her breast. Over the robe, but that might not hinder the point. "About, like, putting hard and soft together? Or, like... Hard between soft, I guess."
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You'd think she would've learned to trust his all-encompassing attraction to her enough by now not to sound so pleasantly surprised. But it was a whole process.
"I mean... It seems like it could be hot." Everything that involved him, hard, was hot. But you know. "Just, seeing you like that. Maybe seeing you, like, come on my chest?"
Again with the things she wasn't that interested in with anyone else.
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Now it was his turn to grope for words, to try to explain why something was attractive.
"...Like I am leaving you a mess," he said, finally. "Like pouring wine on a work of art. The thrill of the forbidden, almost?"
None of that was quite right, but from the state of his trousers, he was liking the idea.
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"No, I get you," she said, nodding. Kind of beaming at him, actually. While trying to be subtle about tugging the robe open a little further. "It's dirty and almost kinda sleazy? But, like, just on the right side of where the thought of it makes me feel horny and not uncomfortable."
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