Chapter Text
Ugh, where the fuck is she?
Music blasted over speakers, bass vibrating through the floor and slinking up through your shoes, adding just another level of annoyance to your already overwhelmed brain. Barbara, your friend, had disappeared into a sea of people bobbing in place to the music, leaving you alone and semi-drunk.
There was something terrifying about college parties, you’d realized. They were nothing like the ones you saw in movies, with models dancing around a big swimming pool and bumping to music, shot in Hollywood hills mansions no student could ever dream of affording. They were more like this - hot and confusing, the best alcohol option usually being some potion of shitty-K and Kool-Aid mix served out of a plastic tub and poured into cups that now littered the floor. And the floor in question was already covered in spilled drinks, sweat, and other unidentified fluids. Half the time, they took place in homes that were arguably not suitable for human inhabitants.
Looking for your friend was already made difficult by the three main colors worn by each of the partygoers - red, yellow, and green. A fucking stoplight party.
“So you wear red if you’re taken, yellow if it’s complicated, and green if you’re single,” Barbara had said, sitting on her desk chair, painting her toenails.
Most of the people here were wearing green - you being one of them, borrowed from Barbara of course. No one wants to be questioned about their status all night if they wear yellow, and the handful of people wearing red came as no surprise either. If someone was already taken – why would they willingly subject themselves to this shitshow? Wouldn’t they rather be inside, cuddling with their significant other? That was what you should’ve been doing, but the untimely event of being cheated on by your hometown boyfriend had interfered with those plans.
Regardless, you were here, against your will. But it was sophomore year, and you had to enjoy this time while you could. It was easy to rationalize it that way. Maybe, you’d thank yourself for this experience someday.
A splash of something cold, wet, and sticky hit your face, leaking down the shirt you wore, dribbling off your chin and down your back.
Maybe not.
“Oh my god, I am so sorry,” the voice barely registered, some stranger apologizing for something that they surely didn’t mean, but surely didn’t understand the severity of their actions. The damage was already done. Abandoning the search for your friend, you started on a different search all together.
Bathrooms. The one downstairs was a no – a line of people standing outside of the door, swaying back and forth, desperate to pee or puke – or maybe both.
The staircase to upstairs had been lazily caution taped off, and by some miracle it seemed everyone at the party was respecting the boundary so far.
Fuck that. Ducking under the tape, hopefully out of sight from anyone, you snuck upstairs to the off-limits area.
Jiggling a few locked doors - you had to give it to those people, they were smart for that – you finally had luck at the back end of the hallway, stepping into a surprisingly clean and cozy space. A plaid comforter covered a queen-sized bed, pretty bay windows looked out over the front yard. Of course the walls were littered in predictable posters - Pulp Fiction, Goodfellas, The Beastie Boys. Closing the door behind you, you sighed in relief at the reprieve. The tension that was caused by the chaos downstairs started to release from the pinch between your shoulder blades, your eyebrows, and you stepped into the ensuite bathroom.
Barbara’s shirt was ruined. There was no doubt about that. A large, red-tinged stain now accented the clothing item, it was almost impressive that the drink had somehow spilled on both the front and back. The real problem, however, was that there was no way your bank account could front the cost to replace it. Tears were burning the back of your eyes as you took in the damage. The shirt was ruined, along with your evening, which had been rocky since its inception. Not only that, but now you looked like a fucking idiot loser. Even though you weren’t really behind Barbara’s agenda of finding you a hookup to begin with, this definitely sealed the deal.
“Uh, fucking excuse me?” you were so wrapped up in your own self-pity that you hadn’t heard the door open, and you stumbled out from the bathroom to find a stranger looking pissed. “What the fuck are you doing in here?”
“I’m so sorry, I uh, was looking for a bathroom and-”
“The bathroom’s downstairs, you’re not supposed to be up here.”
The boy – well, he was definitely older than you, a senior if you had to guess, so maybe a man – stood in the doorway, blocking your exit.
“The door was unlocked-” you pointed out, stammering for some kind of excuse but mostly just hoping he’d step aside so you could retreat.
“What are you fucking, up here going through my shit? You think this is fucking cute or something?”
“No, I’m sorry I just-” the crack in your voice betrayed you a little. This was just your luck. Tonight, you’d already lost your friend, and everyone here seemed to be having a good time except you. Not to mention you were moderately drunk, heartbroken - Oh god, you stupid bitch, are you actually going to cry right now? But the scold didn’t seem to help, in fact, the best move would’ve been to stop talking, which was the exact opposite of what you did.
”I didn’t mean to intrude, I- I have this big stain on my shirt because someone spilled their drink on me - but this isn’t my shirt, so I needed to figure out if I could get rid of the stain so I needed a bathroom and I came in here. But it turns out the shirt is ruined, and I borrowed it from the friend I’m here with and I don’t have the money to pay her back for it. And now, now…I look like a fucking idiot,” your voice wavered, and tears tracked down your face, likely ruining the intricate eye makeup that Barbara had done on you.
But maybe crying wasn’t the worst idea. Because the stranger lowered his arms. His stern expression softened, slightly, and you noticed then how handsome he was – mussed dark hair, big, brown puppy-dog eyes and full lips, stubble lining his jaw.
“Okay don’t-” Looking somewhere between uncomfortable, overwhelmed, and unequipped to deal with the level of emotion just presented to him, he seemed to back down. “It’s fine I just don’t want people going through my shit. This is my room.” He stepped forward, closing the door behind him, blocking out a significant amount of the music and noise from the party below.
Desperately swiping under your eyes, you sniffed. “No, of course not. I’m really sorry, I am.”
“You didn’t touch anything did you?”
You shook your head. “No, no…”
He put his hands on his hips, looking around as if he didn’t believe you. When he seemed satisfied with the investigation, he looked your way again, and sighed.
“Do you want to uh, borrow a shirt?”
“Really?”
“Yeah, you’ll catch a cold if you walk home in that.”
“Are you sure? I’ll get it back to you as soon as I can.” It was a surprising offer, but certainly not unwelcome. And…he was right, so you weren’t going to politely refuse.
“Just take something old, don’t worry about it.” He opened his dresser drawer and rooted through the contents, producing a worn sweatshirt with the Harvard logo emblazoned on the front. “Here.”
“Thank you so much….uh….”
“Kendall,” he said, voice softer. “Kendall Roy.”
That last name sounded familiar, for some reason you felt like you’d seen it often in the headlines of the newspapers your father read during breakfast. But who knew? It didn’t sound like an uncommon last name.
“It’s nice to meet you, Kendall,” you offered him your name in return, which he repeated once before smiling softly.
“And what year are you, then?”
“Sophomore,” you answered.
“Yeah, makes sense,” he raised his brows.
You scoffed, a little offended, but you couldn’t help but feel your face get warm. “Oh you can tell? Great,” sarcasm bled into your words. He crossed his arms, looking down at you and chuckling, a warm, rich sound that had your stomach twisting. Under his gaze, you felt small…but for some reason, you kind of liked it. “I’m guessing you’re older, if you live here.”
“I’m a senior.”
“Right, makes sense,” you looked around. “This is a nice house…and room.”
“Uh-huh, right, well that means a lot coming from the stranger who broke in,” he said, and you would’ve thought he was being serious if it weren’t for the twinkle in his eye. Maybe you were drunk but it seemed like he was….flirting?
“Hey, I thought we were past that already,” you answered, trying not to giggle.
Chuckling, he nodded. “We are. And uh, yeah, I’m sorry for yelling at you.”
“It’s okay I….probably would’ve done the same thing.”
“Uh-huh. Right,” he tilted his head, studying you.
You met his eyes, unable to stop the dumb smile from creeping onto your face, it was like something was lifting the corners of your mouth up, against your own accord. It was unclear what sudden shift in energy had occured for you to be suddenly swooning, but you definitely weren’t mad at it. Bashfully, you were able to force your eyes to the ground, just as his gaze met your lips. “I should, uh….change into this shirt.”
“Right, right,” he nodded, gesturing towards the bathroom, stepping backwards. He had been closer than you thought. You found your knees to be a bit more wobbly than usual.
When you emerged a few minutes later, stained shirt balled under your arm, Kendall was sipping on a beer he must have produced from the mini fridge by his bed, looking outside at the parade of drunk young adults beginning to shuffle home for the night.
“I’m uh, gonna head out if that’s okay. Thanks again for the sweatshirt,” you said, and he turned to you, offering a flick of his chin. Just as you reached the door though, he called out.
“Before you go, can I uh, get your number?” he asked. “I might decide I want that sweatshirt back.”
You didn’t hesitate, offering a cheeky grin. “Yeah, of course,”
Several weeks later, you found yourself back in the same bedroom.
Further research had revealed that Kendall Roy was indeed related to the family whose name was in the papers, the heir apparent to take over a multi-billion dollar media conglomerate. But you’d kept the information to yourself, even after he reached out several times through flirty texts and drunken phone calls.
It was a little game, the two of you started to play. Cheeky, but mostly innocent, even though you knew from the get-go exactly what he wanted. Still, you had to play coy, just a little, but still give him enough to stay intrigued. You even opened up to him, just a little, about your ex who broke your heart, and in return he offered all his favorite secret study spots on campus. It didn’t matter if that was a fair trade or not, there was just something about him that was stuck in your head all the time.
“Listen, I can’t stop thinking about that sweatshirt you stole….I really need you to bring it back to me,” you had heard the smile on his face even over the phone.
This time, he had you pinned beneath him on his bed, tongue sweeping through your mouth. He tasted like beer and cigarettes, which might have been disgusting on someone else but on him, was like heaven. It was late, Friday night, and truthfully, you were kind of honored it was you he’d been thinking of. Raking your nails through his hair, you let him claim you, until he pulled away.
“You wanna know something?” he asked.
“What?”
“I didn’t give a fuck about the sweatshirt.”
“Really?” you asked sarcastically, and he laughed before returning his lips to yours. His hands were everywhere, everywhere but somehow still not everywhere enough. One of them slipped behind your knee, pulling it up to hook over his hip, earning a moan from you, fire licking down your body and immediately burning into your core. In just a few short weeks he’d managed to obscure the memory of your ex, who you’d spent weeks crying over, and you were hoping tonight he could erase it completely. Whatever he was doing seemed to be working.
Barbara had warned you about Kendall, but you knew the risks. Sure, he was a partier, but lacked the usual disrespect for human beings – particularly women – that men his age often had. And you didn’t need any kind of commitment - you just wanted him.
Kendall wasn’t shy about how in agreement he was, either. Hands slipped under your shirt, pushed your bra out of the way, and then were grabbing, squeezing, cupping.
“Oh, fuck,” you moaned out, reaching to feel him half-hard in his pants already.
His mouth moved to your neck, grunting against your skin as his hips rutted against you. There was nothing tender or slow about this, it was desperate and animalistic, but for some reason that only turned you on even more. This sort of attraction, so primal, so necessary, was all new. No one had ever made you feel this before.
“You like that, pretty girl?” his mouth was by your ear, and he began to unbutton your jeans, pulling them away so he could rub your aching cunt through your panties. Of course, they were matching your bra - you pretty much knew what you wanted before coming over. A wave of relief settled over you as deft fingers found your clit, even through the thin undergarment.
“Yes,” you whined. “I do.”
“You’re not as good as people think, are you?” he asked, pushing aside your panties, knuckles swiping through your folds. “I bet you like feeling a little bad sometimes, though?”
“Yes,” you panted out, but what Kendall said wasn’t entirely true. You had to specify. “For you, yes.”
He chuckled, pads of his fingertips teasing you open. “You’re so wet for me already.”
“I c-can’t help it,” you stuttered, voice shaking as he pulled down your jeans all the way.
“You want me to help you?” he asked.
You nodded.
“Then sit on my face and let everyone hear what a little slut you are for me.”
There was no time to answer, even though it was an overwhelming yes. Somehow you were reoriented so you were on your hands and knees, panties around your ankles, kneeling on the pillows of his bed. Kendall’s head settled beneath you, between your parted thighs. This was vulnerable, you were all bare and exposed for him, had never let anyone have you like this before.
“You don’t have to- oh…god”
His mouth was on you, and all concerns lay dead on your tongue. A staggered breath rippled through your lungs as you attempted to breathe through his ministrations, a lazy drag around your clit, down through your folds and then back and forth until your hips bucked upwards, overstimulated and unable to process the immense amount of pleasure he was giving you. It was only a matter of time before your legs would give out, and you would crush him. But Kendall didn’t allow the distance, large hands pulling you back down, kneading into the soft flesh of your thighs, forcing you to stay put.
“Hands on the headboard, baby,” he rasped, during one of the rare moments his mouth separated from you. Obeying him, you found it was helpful actually, providing you with some stability, and you relaxed slightly, arching into his touch, whining and whimpering.
It didn’t take long for you to come, teeth sinking into the headboard to stifle the noises that accompanied it, one of them being a sharp cry of his name. The last few waves of pleasure had yet to subside before he was out from under you, mouth dragging back against yours as you both frantically tugged the remaining clothing off your bodies.
“Want you to ride my cock,” he grunted. Once again, you were happy to oblige. Quickly, he was digging in his nightstand for a condom and rolled it on. Hips aligned with his, you lowered down on to him slowly, head falling backwards as you took him all the way until he bottomed out inside of you. He was so big, you could feel him so deep, so snug inside you.
There were few words you had to describe the feeling, besides the ones you managed after rolling your hips forward onto him. “So good.”
“Yeah, that’s it, good girl,” Kendall leaned forward, mouth latching onto one of your nipples, and bucked up into you so you were forced to take him deeper. When you answered with a mewl, he spoke again. “Oh you like that, don’t you?”
There was a chance your lip might actually bleed by how hard you were biting it, nodding in response.
“I bet he never fucked you like this, did he?” His hand rose to twist into your hair at the base of your scalp, pulling down and exposing your neck to him even more. You shook your head no in what little movement he allowed.
You were getting close again, already, the head of his cock kept hitting that spot over and over as you ground down against him and he met you halfway. It was fucking perfect, your heart was racing, flushed all over, cunt clenching around the length of him.
He was close, too, jawline all harsh angles, a bruising grip on your ass as his hands guided you onto him again and again. There was no point in attempting to hide the sounds you both were making, he had been right when he said everyone would hear. Good thing you didn’t give a fuck.
His own release triggered yours, when you felt him all warm, pulsing inside you. You gasped and pitched forward, head falling in the crook of his neck.
After, you laid next to him, blissed out and bleary-eyed, and one of his fingers absentmindedly drew shapes onto your back. You realized, then, that you might be in trouble.