otherworlderotic
The morning light filters into the dorm room, stirring you from your drunken slumber. As you blink your eyes open, the world seems to spin around you. Your head pounds with each heartbeat, your mouth bone dry. Beside you, Laura begins to stir, letting out a soft groan.
"Oh god...my head," she mumbles, slowly sitting up. Her hair is tousled, her makeup smudged beneath her eyes. Despite her disheveled state, she still takes your breath away.
Across the room, Jo rouses noisily. "Ughhh, what happened last night?" she grumbles. Her ample curves spill out of her tank top as she stretches dramatically.
You avert your eyes, focusing on Laura. She gives you a weary smile. "Good morning," she whispers. You lean in for a gentle kiss, mindful of her likely pounding head and sour breath.
"How are you feeling?" you ask softly. Laura winces, rubbing her temples.
"Like I got hit by a truck. I'm never drinking again."
You chuckle, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "I'll get you some water and aspirin,"
As you gingerly climb out of bed, Jo lets out another exaggerated groan. "I feel half-dead. That was way too much party...but so worth it!"
Laura shakes her head ruefully. "You're crazy, Jo. I, for one, am never letting you drag me out like that again."
Jo laughs, collapsing back onto her bed. “Oh, yes you will. We’re just getting started…” You tune out their continued banter, as you rummage around for water and painkillers, distracted by your own headache.
Jo lets out a dramatic sigh, glancing around her empty bed. "Well, I'm extremely disappointed there isn't a beautiful boy keeping me company this morning," she laments.
Laura rolls her eyes. "With the way you were stumbling around last night, I'm surprised you made it home at all."
Jo shrugs, a playful grin crossing her face. "Hey, a girl's gotta try. Speaking of which, does anyone actually getting handed a beer bong last night? Was that a real thing? It's all pretty fuzzy to me."
You shake your head ruefully as you pass Laura a glass of water and some ibuprofen. "I just have flashes of memory - loud music, dancing, laughing, a sexy leopard, red lingerie..." You trail off, trying to piece together the chaotic events.
Laura covers her face. "Yeah, we definitely did a beer bong at one point. I think you made someone take a video on your phone too." Jo immediately grabs her phone from the nightstand, scrolling through her camera roll.
Jo jumps over to Laura’s bed, sitting next to you. Still wearing just your boxers, the three of you crowd around to watch the video, cringing and laughing as your drunken selves enthusiastically take turns chugging from the beer bong, your coordination nonexistent.
"God, I look good," Jo exclaims, a wicked grin dancing on her lips. Her eyes flicked over to Laura and you, and she laughed, "I mean, look at me! No wonder the boys couldn't keep their eyes off me! Now I just need to get their hands on me…" She’s sitting so close to you, looking at you, gauging your reaction to the video and her proximity. Despite your hangover, you feel a stir. You quickly think about something, anything else to avoid popping a completely conspicuous erection.
"Oh geez, we looked ridiculous," Laura says, shaking her head. She takes a sip of water, giving you an amused smile, “and you, mister, looked great in that loincloth,” she places a hand on your bare thigh. Oh no. It’s too late, it’s happened.
Jo's eyes sparkle with mischief, as she takes in your predicament. She bursts into laughter, her body shaking with the force of it. Her shaking against you does not help alleviate the situation. "Well, well," she manages to gasp out between laughs, "looks like someone definitely enjoyed the video."
Laura joins in on the laughter, but she does so with a gentle touch further up your thigh, a slight squeeze that was comforting in its own way, but has now taken you from al-dente to uncooked. "I guess my comment about the loincloth wasn't as innocent as I thought," she teases, a playful smirk on her face.
"Or maybe he's just enjoying the present company a little too much," Jo adds, her eyes glinting with playful curiosity. She turns to look at you, her grin challenging. "What's got you so worked up, hmm?"
You can feel your cheeks heat up, the blush creeping up your neck. "Well, it's not exactly easy to control when two beautiful women are practically sitting on my lap," you defend yourself. "Especially when they're undressed."
Jo winks at you, her grin still in place. "Oh, so you like what you see?" She glances down at her own revealing tank top and then at Laura's disheveled state. "I guess we do make quite the sight." She pulls down the front of her top, exposing more cleavage and pressing her elbows together.
"Jo!" Laura exclaims, but there's a soft blush on her cheeks and her eyes are shining with humor.
"No need to be shy," Jo says, looking between the two of you. "It's just a natural reaction. It's not like we don't appreciate the view either." She gives you a pointed look, her gaze trailing over your chest and down to your boxers.
Despite the embarrassment, there's a thrill that rushes through you at her words, at the implication that both Laura and Jo might appreciate your form as much as you appreciate theirs.
"Ok, take a picture, it’ll last longer," Laura says, tossing a pillow over your erection.
Jo chuckles, falling back onto the bed, her laughter ringing through the room. "Don’t worry, I’ve got that one locked away, no picture needed," she declares, her eyes sparkling with mirth. “But will you let me take a picture…?”
Laura just laughs and throws you your jeans. “Get dressed and let’s go get breakfast.”
“Can I come?” Jo says, looking at you too with exaggerated puppy dog eyes.
“Of course,” Laura says easily, as the three of you start getting dressed together in the confined space of the room.
As you button up your fly, you reflect that this is the third time you’ve gotten dressed with Laura and Jo in just the last few conscious hours. This is starting to become a habit…
≋ ≋ ≋
As the evening light paints the room with hues of fading orange, you stretch out on the comfy couch, your body sinking into its welcoming embrace. The scent of freshly popped popcorn wafts around, tickling your senses, making you feel gratitude for a quiet night in, just the two of you.
Laura is snuggled up against you, her head resting comfortably on your shoulder, a cascade of hair spilling onto your chest. Her fingers absently trace patterns on your forearm, sending tiny shivers of anticipation racing up your spine. A light sigh escapes her, a contented murmur.
The Notebook, a movie she's been insisting you watch, begins to play, the opening credits rolling onto the screen. Her eyes light up with excitement, an infectious sparkle and she cuddles closer into you, her warmth permeating your being as she readjusts herself, eyes riveted to the screen. There's an animated spark in her eyes as she watches, excited to finally share one of her favorite movies with you.
As you both reach for the popcorn bowl, your hands touch, ramming into each other awkwardly. You share a brief look before breaking into soft laughter.
You watch as she recites a line from the movie in perfect sync with the character, a dramatic hand gesture accompanying her theatrical delivery. She turns to you, an impish smile playing on her lips.
"You're a total nut, you know that?" You tease, a playful smirk on your lips as you grab a handful of popcorn. “Do you know every line?”
She sticks out her tongue at you, a faux-offended expression on her face. "So what If I do? Anyways, I'm a cute nut, so you'll have to deal with it."
A content silence that wraps around you both like a cozy blanket. In this shared moment of tranquility, your breathing syncs with Laura's, a steady rhythm that pulses through the room. She fits perfectly under your arm, like a puzzle piece clicking into place, a feeling both new and familiar. You feel her sigh, a soft exhale that brushes against your shirt. She closes her eyes, her face relaxed.
As a romantic scene unfolds on the screen, the room falls silent except for the soft dialogue from the movie. You feel Laura's hand seeking yours, her fingers weaving through yours until your hands are entwined.
You watch her, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears at the heartwarming scene on the screen. You see the raw emotion in her gaze, the way she clings to every word, every emotion. You can't help but admire her, her passion, her energy, her essence. A realization dawns on you - this isn’t just a fun fling. You really like her. She's precious, she's unique, and she's slowly becoming a part of you. The feelings aren't just physical attraction anymore, but something more profound, something that you can't quite put into words yet. It's a silent promise, a growing bond, a connection that's getting stronger with each shared moment.
The moment is shattered as Ryan Gosling and Rachel McAdams start screaming at each other, a heated argument breaking out on the screen. The intensity of the disagreement echoes through the room, striking a chord within you. You feel a sudden tension in the air, an uncomfortable reminder that all relationships have moments of tension. So far, you’ve been lucky with Laura, but it’s still the honeymoon phase, right? The energy of the scene infects your thoughts, and you stiffen involuntarily, your grip on her tightening a fraction.
Laura goes silent, her body tensing up against yours. She's noticed it too, the undercurrent of unease that has temporarily shattered your comfortable bubble. It's a fleeting moment, a tiny blip in your otherwise smooth journey, but it's there nonetheless.
However, before the discomfort can settle in, Laura shifts closer to you, her body language seeking reassurance. Responding to her silent plea, you wrap your arm tighter around her, offering her the comfort she seeks. The tension dissipates, replaced once again by the familiar warmth of togetherness.
As the movie continues to play on the screen, a small smile tugs at your lips. You acknowledge the brief tension, understanding it for what it is. You realize that you're ready to face those challenges, to fight for what you have with Laura.
The mood lightens when Laura points out a continuity error in the movie, proving that she’s seen it as many times as she’s claimed. You both end up laughing, the shared humor washing away the last traces of unease. You're back in your bubble, a space filled with laughter, shared glances, and unspoken promises.
As the movie edges towards its rainy climax, you find yourself drawn into the protagonist's journey, their moments of love, loss, and self-realization resonating within you. As you watch the story unfold, you find yourself reflecting on your own relationship with Laura, grappling with the depth of your feelings for her.
Your thoughts are a whirlwind of emotions - affection, adoration, and a hint of fear. Fear of losing what you have with Laura, of a future where she might not be a part of your everyday. You look at her, her eyes glued to the screen, and realize how deeply you've fallen for her, how much she means to you.
As the climax scene plays out, Laura's grip on your hand tightens. You glance at her, noticing the tears welling up in her eyes. Reacting instinctively, you reach out, gently wiping away a tear that has escaped down her cheek. You pull her closer, wrapping your arms around her in a comforting embrace. You don't say anything, and neither does she. Nothing needs to be said. After the scene ends, Laura turns to look at you. Her eyes are still damp, but there's a smile on her face, a warmth in her gaze.
As the credits roll, the room is filled with a shared sense of contentment. There's a warmth in Laura's eyes, a satisfied sigh escaping her lips. Her head leans back against your shoulder, her hand finding yours again as a smile dances on her lips.
Turning towards you, Laura's eyes reflect the flicker of the TV screen. She snuggles closer to you, a content sigh whispering past her lips. In a moment that feels as natural as breathing, you lean down, stealing a soft kiss from Laura.
“Did you like the movie?” She mumbles into your shirt, looking like she’s ready to fall asleep right there on the couch.
“I did, more than I thought I would,” you say honestly. “Let’s get to bed, come on, cutie.”
“Mmmm, I’m so comfy here though,” she playfully complains, snuggled up into you. She does look comfy…
You smile to yourself and scoop her up into your arms. Giggling, she clings to you as you carry her into the bedroom. She yelps as you fling her down onto the bed.
She looks up at you with a coy smile and pats the bed next to her.
You oblige.
≋ ≋ ≋
Awakening is a slow process, a gentle stirring of the senses as consciousness gradually asserts itself. The cocoon of sleep is slowly peeled away by the undercurrent of excitement that ripples through the bed, a subtle change in the atmosphere.
Your eyes flutter open, morning light bleeding through the thin curtains and casting an airy, warm glow in the room. You blink, bringing the world into focus. Beside you, Laura's curled up form is bathed in the soft dawn light, her eyes glued to the small screen of her phone. The early hour seems to have done little to diminish her enthusiasm; her fingers tap with rapid precision, her lips curved into a small smile.
A niggle of curiosity rouses you further, the sight of Laura awake at such an hour a pleasant rarity. "What's up?" you mumble, your voice rough from sleep, your words garbled. The arm not pinned beneath her shifts to rub the sleep from your eyes.
Laura looks up at the sound of your voice, her excitement visible in the sparkle of her eyes. However, beneath the joy is a hint of concern, an unexpected shadow that tugs at your attention. Her smile falters slightly as she glances back at her phone, her fingers stalling over the screen.
The room falls silent, save for the distant chirping of early birds and the soft hum of the world waking up outside.
Laura takes a deep breath, pulling her attention away from the device in her hand. She turns to you slowly, her hair falling over her shoulder in a tumble of curls. Her lips curve into a soft smile, though the concern remains in her eyes. "Good morning," she murmurs, her voice a gentle whisper against the serene backdrop of the dawn.
"Good morning," you echo back, your voice clearing a bit more with the words. Your hand instinctively reaches up, fingers brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. Studying her intently, you speak up. "You're never on your phone first thing, what's up?"
The room grows quiet as she bites her lip, an apprehensive edge creeping into her gaze. She finally breaks the silence, her voice barely above a whisper. "I just got an email... remember that art history study abroad? In Paris?"
As the words settle between you, a pit begins to form in your stomach, a heavy weight pulling at your senses. Paris. A world away. It's an incredible opportunity, you know. Yet, the prospect of her leaving sends a jolt of unease through you, the reality of her potential departure hanging in the early morning light. The world outside the window suddenly seems a little less bright, the room a bit colder.
"One of the upperclassmen dropped out," she continues, her tone rising slightly in excitement even as the shadow in her gaze deepens. "They just invited me to take their place."
The news crashes into you like a wave, the implications swirling around in your mind. Laura, studying in Paris, away for months. The thought sends a pang of longing through you, even before it becomes a reality.
Her excitement is contagious, despite your worry. You see the spark of anticipation in her eyes, the thrill of embarking on a new adventure. Yet, you can't help but notice the apprehension behind that enthusiasm. She's worried about your relationship too.
"Wow. They’re jerking you around. But wouldn't that mean you have to leave soon?" you question, your voice barely more than a whisper. The words hang in the air between you, heavy and foreboding.
"Yeah," she hesitates, her fingers tracing idle patterns on the duvet. "It’s finals, then just a week break between quarters, and I need to be there a few days early to settle in. That mean I go in like, less than two weeks, if I accept. It's super last minute..."
The room descends into silence once more, a quiet so profound it drowns the morning chorus of birds. The two of you remain there, locked in your own thoughts, processing the precipice of change you find yourselves on. The dawning day no longer carries the same gentle serenity it did moments ago; now, it heralds a crossroads, an uncertain path stretching out before you.
Your fingers find hers, an anchor in the sea of impending change.
The silence hangs heavy for a few more heartbeats before you finally break it. "You have to do it, huh?" you ask, though it sounds more like a statement, a quiet acceptance of the inevitable.
She meets your gaze, a sadness reflected in her own. "Yeah," she breathes out, a sigh more than a word. The concern remains etched on her face, a silent testament to the gravity of the decision she's about to make. A thick layer of tension cloaks the room, a stark contrast to the cheerful chirping of birds beyond the window.
In the face of this somber moment, you reach for levity, the only weapon in your arsenal capable of cutting through the tension. "I've heard that French boys don't wear deodorant, though, so I'm not worried about them," you say, keeping your tone light.
For a moment, she just blinks at you, surprise etching her features before a soft chuckle escapes her. "Shut up," she laughs, playfully swatting at your arm. "And yes, they do wear deodorant."
Her laughter fills the room, a welcome melody in the otherwise tense atmosphere.
Her playful smile softens into something more affectionate as she playfully nudges you. "But you don't have to worry about me and any French boys," she says, her voice light and reassuring.
She gives your hand a gentle squeeze, a simple, silent promise exchanged through the contact. The quietude envelops you once more, but it's a peaceful one now, an unspoken understanding bridging the gap between you.
"You know," she continues, her words casual yet sincere, "It’s only a quarter. And besides, I’ll be texting you all the time. So, don't stress over some fancy French guy sweeping me off my feet."
Her words, so natural and heartfelt, bring a genuine smile to your face.
With a soft sigh, you push back the covers and slide out of bed, the chill of the morning air brushing against your skin. "Well, I won't be falling back asleep now," you declare, stretching out the kinks in your muscles.
Glancing over your shoulder at Laura, you ask, "You hungry?" Her nod is sleepy but affirmative, her smile still sleepy but undeniably radiant in the morning light.
As you cross the room to the bathroom, her voice follows you, softer this time, tinged with worry. "Are you okay?"
You pause in the doorway, her question catching you off-guard. You take a moment, mulling over her question, her concern. The truth is, you don't quite know. "I... I don't know yet," you admit, your voice echoing slightly in the tiled room.
Her concern deepens, and you quickly add, "I need a coffee first. But...I’m happy for you, Laura. Really." You offer her a small, reassuring smile, hoping it might ease the worry etched on her face.
Your words hang in the air, a bittersweet sentiment that fills the room. It's a morning of change, a harbinger of what's to come, but for now, you find solace in the familiarity of your routine, the promise of breakfast, and the simple pleasure of her company. As you retreat to the bathroom, you carry with you the lingering taste of the morning's revelation - sweet with her excitement, yet tinged with a hint of sour uncertainty.
≋ ≋ ≋
The days following Laura's announcement are filled with a flurry of activity. The end of the academic quarter looms, ushering in a wave of final assignments and exams. Study sessions and late-night cramming become the norm, stacks of textbooks and dog-eared notebooks occupying every available surface. The tension of the impending end-of-term challenges mingles with the unspoken knowledge of Laura's departure, lending an undercurrent of urgency to every moment.
Laura, meanwhile, has an additional layer of preparation to undertake. Alongside her regular coursework, she throws herself into organizing her trip. She spends hours on the phone with the university abroad, sorting out the details of her living arrangements, course credits, and travel logistics. Her room becomes a chaotic mix of study guides and packing lists, her excitement palpable even amidst the disarray. The end of the academic quarter marks not just the end of her term, but also the countdown to her journey.
As for you, between your own academic obligations and helping Laura with her preparations, the days seem to fly by. You find comfort in the routine, in the simple act of being there for Laura. Despite the bittersweet knowledge of her impending departure, you push forward, focusing on the tasks at hand, and making the most of the time you have left together. In some ways, it feels like there’s not even enough time to reflect on the separation that’s about to happen.
Jo's reaction to Laura's departure is exactly as the two of you expect. "Really, Laura? Now? We were just heating things up!" she protests, feigning disbelief as her playful eyes dance with amusement.
Her arms cross in mock indignation as she fires off a barrage of teasing complaints. "Between you packing up your life and you two nerds turning every flat surface into a study hall, I'm starting to feel like the third wheel, and not in the fun way, like before," she huffs, though the sparkle in her eyes belies her exaggerated dismay.
"I mean, here I was, enjoying finally partying with my friends," she winks at you both, "But no, you have to jet off to Paris and leave me high and dry. Even if you two add me in on a sexting thread, which I know you won’t, it wouldn’t be the same. Arg!"
Jo's playful complaints take a turn for the imaginative, her hands flailing dramatically as she continues her playful tirade. "You know, it should've been me going to Paris," she declares, throwing her hands up theatrically, "I mean, think about it. Me, the beautiful Seine, the romantic moonlight...and an all I can eat hot French boy baguette buffet…"
She pauses for a second, her face scrunching into a playful pout. "You won't even take a single bite of that good French baguette, will you?" she accuses, pointing a mock-accusing finger at Laura.
Everyone in the room breaks into laughter, the tension in the room lessening for a moment. Underneath the playful quips and wild hearted jesting, there's an understanding. Jo knows how much this opportunity means to Laura, and she respects the sacred moments you and Laura are trying to steal in these last days.
≋ ≋ ≋
The two of you have found sanctuary at one of the campus libraries, nestled into a study nook amidst a sea of textbooks and notes. The low hum of the crowded library around finals time of turning pages, whispered conversations, and footsteps in the background provides a rhythm to your peaceful silence. You're there, pressed shoulder to shoulder, hands brushing in a comfortable, familiar dance.
Laura is studying a massive textbook, her brows furrowed in concentration. You’re taking a break just to watch her, captivated by the play of emotions across her face. You've grown attuned to her quiet moods, and you can tell something is bothering her.
She sighs, breaking the silence that had settled between you. "Can we talk about something?" Her voice is soft, a whisper amongst the rustle of pages and the murmur of the space.
"Of course," you respond, setting your own study materials aside, focusing all your attention on her.
She looks at you, her hazel eyes tinged with a hint of nervousness. "I've been thinking...about us."
You nod, encouraging her to continue.
"Well...we've been taking things slow, and I think that's been good for us." Her fingers twist in her lap, a sure sign of her nervousness. "But with my going to Paris... I've been feeling...I don't know...a bit of urgency."
Her words hang in the air, heavy with unspoken implications. You let her find her words, the silence giving her space to articulate her thoughts.
"I...I think I want to explore...um, the physical aspect of our relationship a bit more before I leave. It's not about rushing things unnecessarily, but about...about sharing something more before we're separated for a while, seeing where things can go…" The words tumble out in a rush, her cheeks turning a faint shade of pink.
You watch her, absorbing her words. This was unexpected, yes, but it wasn't unwelcome.
"It's not about pressure. It's just... I want this. With you. I feel ready," she says.
Her honesty takes your breath away. You give her hand a reassuring squeeze. "If you're sure, let’s do it… what are you thinking?"
A slow smile spreads across her face. "I’ve got some ideas…" she whispers, her fingers tightening around yours.
