"Kusuo?"

SHE says my name like a question. I have never heard her say it before, however as I watch her pronounce it, surprising satisfaction lingers inside me. Her mouth moves rather adorably with each vowel, I cannot deny. The way I stare at her rosy lips is obvious before I finally manage to lift my gaze. Her eyes are wide open, the uncertainty hard to miss. 

"Yes?", I answer.

At the sound of my voice, her pupils dilate to such a profound size that there's barely any colour left inside the irises. Darkness envelops her dorm room, but I can still see the colour. It's rather pretty; as far as eye colours go. I wouldn't really care if it were a different one, but I suppose this one suits her.

She parts her lips to speak, but changes her mind. I can feel my brow arch slightly as I stare at her, patiently waiting for her to break the silence first. We're sitting on her bed, and I can feel the softness of the thick covers beneath the tips of my fingers. She's right in front of me, her smooth legs tucked neatly underneath her; delicate hands resting on her lap.

The skirt she's wearing is very short. I've made sure.

Her upper thighs look inviting for my hands to linger on. And so, I do it. I lean forward until the tips of my fingers cautiously brush against her warm skin; tracing nondescriptive little patterns from her knee, to just an inch underneath the hem of her skirt.

This is new to me. I do not look her in the eyes anymore, but I hear the little gasp to leave her mouth at my touch. She likes it.

"What are you doing here?", she asks, and I catch the slight tremble inside her voice.

"You've called me.", I lie.

"Oh.", is all that she says. She believes me. She has no choice but to believe me, as anything other than that would not make any sense.

I sigh as I lean even further towards her, and she starts to push back almost immediately. No such luck of escaping me, however. No sooner than later, her back presses against the wall. Her hammering heartbeat is causing such a ruckus inside her ribcage as I study her face. The quickened pulse has made her cheeks tint a dark pink, and I can see the shade much more clearly, now that the distance grows smaller between us. 

My face is so close to her own, that her warm breath tickles my lips. The scent of spearmint chewing gum is sharp with each shaky exhale she gives. I tilt my head lightly to the side, and oddly enough - she copies my exact movement. The tip of her nose brushes against my own now, and she parts her lips as if she expects me to kiss her. She's working like a mirror against me.

Her gaze is hooded, her eyes filled to the brim with growing desire - a look I had never seen her wear, but can still somehow read. She's quite easy to wrap around my finger. I know what she wants, and I oblige by giving it to her.

When my hand slips underneath her skirt, the tips of my fingers trace her inner-thigh and it makes her eyelids flutter shut. By now, her face is turning bright red, and the blush makes her skin feel feverish as I rest my other hand on it. When I trace my fingers even higher, she lets out a peculiar sound; a quiet whimper of some sort that spreads unfamiliar warmth throughout my insides.

It reminds me of a mewl of a kitten, and I realise that I want to hear it again. It's an unexpected discovery, but I do not have time to dwell on it. I need to move things along in order to learn;

"Do you want me to kiss you, y/n?", I ask quietly.

"Y-Yes, Kusuo.", she stutters from the nerves, and her plush mouth brushes against mine when she says the words. She likes the fact that I asked for permission first. However, instead of giving her what she wants a second time, I rather tease her - an uncharacteristic decision from my part. And so, my lips part against her own slightly, making her instantly inch upward with hurried impatience. She wants this now. Badly. It didn't even take much to change her mind.

I suppose my looks do help out, if I actually try. Not that I consider myself a charmer; far from it. But I had guessed correctly when picking her - she's a sucker for men who are emotionally unavailable.

I watch as she starts to part her legs for me, her body responding to me seemingly by its own accord to lure me in. It works. I feel the delicate anticipation to cross my mind briefly as she allows me to get even closer. And as I look at her - trying to match the lustful expression on her face - I finally lean in to place my lips upon her own. Before I can fully succeed in doing that, however;

I'm pushed out of her head with a jolt.

---

Damn it. 

I can hear her wake up with a start a few rows behind me. The way her palms slam against the wooden desk is sudden, but understandable. The Professor continues the lesson as if nothing had happened at all, ignoring the quiet snickers and chuckles resonating inside the lecture room at her panicked wake-up call. A second or two pass before she mumbles a half-assed apology to her friend whose name I do not care about.

From the way she speaks, I can catch onto the fact that she's embarrassed about the dream she's just had. Her face is probably blushing the very same way I had forced it to just mere moments ago.

I do not turn around, even when I feel her eyes linger on me. She's noticed me now. She had purposefully searched the whole lecture room for me. Her thoughts are starting to wake as the last traces of sleep - the nap she had taken midst the lecture, mind you - fade into nothing.

Besides being embarrassed, she's perplexed about the dream I had just pushed inside her head, as well. And speaking about me - I'm nowhere near to figuring out the thrill of intimacy I've heard so much about. I pay it no mind, however. At least not for now.

There will be countless other chances. And I'll make sure to give her the sweetest of dreams with every single one.