Chapter 2: A Month of Secrets
Finn's sneakers squeaked on the hallway tile, and Ridley held up one finger, frozen mid-motion by the door like a very silly statue. They both listened. The elevator dinged. The stairs groaned under someone heavy and truck-adjacent, and then the outside door banged shut.
Jessy exhaled against the window glass. "Did he actually leave?"
"Gym bag, water bottle, pre-workout shaker. That's a two-hour payload minimum." Ridley turned around, grinning. "We have ninety minutes of certified Derek-free privacy."
"Forty-five. He skips leg day when he's sulking." Jessy was already crossing the room, brown fur and short black hair, hips doing the thing that had ended half the guys in their hall. She shoved Ridley backward onto the futon and followed him down. "You've been insufferable all week. Sitting there smirking at me while Finn did his econ homework."
"You like it."
"I like you. Shut up." She kissed him, rough and quick, then slower, her tongue sliding into his mouth while her hand worked under the waistband of his shorts. Ridley groaned into her and bucked up into her palm. She was already wet; he could feel the heat of her through her shorts when she pressed her hips down against his thigh.
"Bed's a war zone," she murmured against his jaw, "and I want your mouth."
"Greedy." He sat up just enough to peel her shorts and underwear down her hips, tail swishing against the sheets. She kicked them off and climbed over him, and he grabbed her hips and dragged her up his body until her knees framed his ears and her pussy hovered over his mouth, dark and slick and already glistening. "Hi."
"Hi yourself." She peeled his shorts down and fished his cock out, hard and flushed, already leaking at the tip. She wrapped her fingers around the base and gave it a slow, appreciative stroke. "One month of sneaking around and this still gets me every time."
"You flatterer."
"Shut up and open wide."
He did. His tongue dragged a slow stripe up her slit, and Jessy's whole body shivered as she bent forward over him, moaning low in her throat. She took the head of his cock into her mouth, hot and wet, and Ridley groaned into her, the vibration making her gasp and clamp her thighs against his head.
They settled into it, greedy and unhurried. Ridley gripped her hips and licked into her, tongue circling her clit in slow, flat strokes before plunging deeper, tasting her, spreading her open with his thumbs. Jessy moaned around his cock and bobbed her head, taking him deeper each time, her free hand cupping and rolling his balls, thumb pressing behind them until his hips jumped off the futon.
"Fuck, Ridley," she gasped, pulling off him to breathe, a thread of spit connecting her lip to his tip. "Your mouth. God." She ground down against his face, riding his tongue, fur damp with sweat, and then swallowed him again, working him with her hand in counterpoint, twisting at the top of each stroke.
He moaned against her clit and she shuddered. Somewhere under her, his tail beat a frantic rhythm against the sheets. The futon creaked. A textbook tower wobbled but held. Ridley's fingers dug into the soft fur of her hips, pulling her down harder against his mouth, and Jessy's moans went ragged, muffled against his cock, hips stuttering.
"Close," she managed around him, muffled and wet. "Don't stop, don't you dare stop."
He didn't. He sealed his lips around her clit and sucked, tongue flicking quick and relentless, and she cried out against him, the sound half swallowed by his cock filling her mouth. Her whole body went rigid, thighs trembling around his head, and she came with a choked moan, pussy clenching around nothing, soaking his chin. The clench of her throat around the head of his cock pushed him right over the edge with her. He bucked up into her mouth, grunting against her clit, and came hard, pulsing across her tongue, wave after wave while she milked him with her hand, swallowing everything.
She collapsed forward onto him, boneless, cheek against his thigh, his softening cock slipping free of her mouth. His forehead rested against her ass for a second before he turned his head and pressed a lazy kiss to her hip.
"So," he said, voice rough, "gym stories."
Jessy laughed, breathless, and rolled off him onto the futon beside him. She was flushed all the way down her chest, fur mussed, and she reached over without looking and found his hand. Their fingers laced together on his chest.
"Finn's going to come back all sweaty and rant about Derek's truck," she said, "and we're going to sit here like normal people."
"Like normal people holding hands."
"We can let go in forty minutes."
Ridley looked at her. Black hair stuck to her temple, green eyes half closed, the exact tomboy mess he'd been stupid about for two semesters before admitting it. He didn't let go. She didn't either. Outside, someone's skateboard rattled past the window, and the room smelled like stale pizza and both of them.
"Jessy," he said, and she opened one eye. "This doesn't leave the room either."
"No," she agreed, and pulled his arm around her, settling her back against his chest. "There's a room."
Jessy's hand found his cock again, idly, like checking whether a stove was still warm. It was. Ridley's tail thumped against the sheets.
"Huh," she said. "Look at that."
"That's your fault. I'm a victim of your hips."
"Forty minutes of privacy left." She rolled on top of him, knees astride his hips, and ground her wet pussy along his shaft, leaving a slick stripe up his stomach. "Think you've got one more in you, champ?"
"Think? Jessy, I'm a legend." His hands slid up her ribs to her chest, thumbs dragging over her nipples through her sports bra. "Also, quick logistics question. If I die doing round two, do I get a plaque?"
"We'd put you next to the energy drink cans. memorial shelf." She sat up, peeled the bra off over her head, and short black hair fell across her flushed face. Her tits were small and firm, nipples hard from the cold and the attention. Ridley sat up under her and mouthed one, and she gasped and shoved him back down. "No. Last time you did that we lost fifteen minutes and Finn almost caught us."
"Finn almost caught us because you screamed like a kettle."
"I did not scream."
"You made a noise. A kettle-adjacent noise."
She shut him up by sinking down onto him, one slow, deliberate inch at a time, both of them watching his cock disappear into her. Her mouth fell open. His grin fell off entirely. For a second the room was just breathing and the creak of the futon and the wet sound of her taking him to the base.
"Okay," Ridley said, strangled. "Okay. Wow. Hi."
"Hi." She rolled her hips, lazy, torturous, and his hands clamped on her waist. "You were saying something about a plaque?"
"I rescind the plaque. I rescind everything."
She rode him for a while, hands braced on his chest, fur damp, head tipped back. Then Ridley dug his heels into the mattress, and before she could read the shift in his expression he surged up, hooked his arms under her knees, and folded her. Her knees went up by her shoulders, her back pressed into the futon, and he loomed over her, cock still buried deep, grinning like a criminal.
"What," Jessy said, "are you doing."
"It's called a mating press. I read about it. I'm an expert in some fields."
"You read about it where, the locker room?"
"Reddit. Which is the same thing." He pulled out almost all the way and slammed back in, and the futon banged the wall and whatever she was going to say came out as a yelp instead.
That was the position now: her pinned under him, folded nearly in half, his weight driving down into her with every thrust. It was obscene. It was efficient. Every stroke hit deeper than the last and Jessy's sarcasm disintegrated within about four of them, replaced by ragged moans she kept trying to smother against her own forearm.
"Someone's going to hear the," bang, "the futon."
"The futon's been banging this wall since September. It's basically a tenant."
"Ridley." Her voice cracked. He shifted his angle slightly, found the spot that made her whole body jolt, and stayed there, hammering it, her pussy soaked and clenching around him. Her claws dug into his shoulders, leaving little divots in his fur, and her thighs trembled against his chest.
"Look at me," he said, breathless, sweating through yellow fur. She did, green eyes blown wide and unfocused, mouth open, the smuggest cat in the building absolutely wrecked under a goat in a mating press. "Yeah. That's the face."
"I hate you."
"You love me. You said so. Forty minutes ago. I have witnesses."
"You're the witness, you absolute," he fucked into her hard and the insult died mid-word, replaced by a moan she bit down on too late, loud and cracked, and they both froze for a half second, listening. Nothing. No footsteps in the hall. She exhaled, laughing shakily against his jaw. "If Finn asks what the noise was, we're telling him you dropped the textbook tower."
"The textbook tower's still standing. It's a miracle. We should be grateful."
"You should be shutting up and making me come again."
"Ma'am, yes, ma'am." He grabbed the headboard for leverage and really went to work, hips snapping, the slap of his body against hers loud and rhythmic, her slick soaking his groin every time he bottomed out. Her second orgasm built fast, he could feel it, could feel her getting tighter and tighter around his cock, thighs shaking, back arching off the mattress inside the press.
"Ridley, I'm, fuck, I'm,"
"Go ahead. I've got you."
She came with a whine muffled against his shoulder, claws raking down his back, pussy clamping around him in waves that nearly took him with her. He held on by gritting his teeth and thinking very hard about the statistics textbook, and rode it out, fucking her through it slow and deep until she went limp under him, panting, folded and boneless and dripping.
"Don't stop," she mumbled. "Finish. I want to feel it."
"Condom," he managed, because he was a professional, and she groaned and reached between their bodies to hold the base while he pulled out just long enough to roll one on, neither of them more than three seconds apart. Then he was back in her, buried to the hilt in that soaked, clenching heat, and it took maybe thirty strokes. He came hard, hips stuttering, groaning into her neck, pulsing into the condom while she squeezed him with everything she had like she was wringing out a towel.
They lay there in a heap, still tangled, her legs somewhere behind her ears and his arms shaking. One of the textbook towers finally lost the war and slid to the floor with a soft thud.
"There goes our alibi," Jessy said.
"We have others." Ridley untangled himself just enough to collapse beside her, then leaned over and kissed her forehead, then her nose, then her mouth, slow this time. "Also, unrelated, that position. We're keeping it."
"Obviously we're keeping it. You folded me like a lawn chair."
"I'm just saying, it goes in the rotation."
"It's in the rotation. Top of the rotation." She checked his phone on the desk. "Thirty minutes. Round three is theoretically possible but you'd die, and I'd have to explain to campus security why there's a dead goat in a mating press."
"Tell them it's how I'd want to go."
"You're not going anywhere." She pulled his arm back around her and settled against his chest, exactly where they'd been before. "You still have to hear Finn's gym story."
"I can't wait. If he mentions Derek's truck one more time, I'm telling him the futon broke."
Jessy snorted and kissed his collarbone. Outside, the hallway stayed quiet, and the room smelled like stale pizza and both of them again.