Page 16 of No Going Back

I keep going, focusing on her, on the way her breath hitches, the little gasps she makes, hoping if I just concentrate hard enough, my body will catch up. I feel like I’m performing a routine I’ve forgotten the steps to.

After a minute or two of her quiet moans filling the room, I shift, lying on my back beside her. “Come here,” I murmur, guiding her hand to my chest while I keep working her with my fingers.

She rolls toward me, straddling my thigh, grinding down as I stroke her. Her moans get louder, higher, and every time she hits that scratchy, needy pitch, my eye twitches. I hope to God Cole can’t hear this through the walls.

It’s not working… I’m still soft and limp. Desperate, I let my mind drift, just for a second. Cole’s ass clenching around me that first time. The way he groaned into the pillow. The broken “please, Remy” when I finally let him come. The memory slams into me, hot, vivid, and filthy, and blood rushes south so fast it hurts. I’m painfully hard in seconds, cock throbbing against my stomach.

Hannah notices immediately. “There you are,” she breathes, grinning as she climbs over me. “Missed that.”

I force a laugh. “Yeah… missed you too.”

She sinks down slowly, wet and ready, and… it’s too wet, too loose; I can barely feel the friction. She’s warm, but it’s like sliding into nothing… no grip, no resistance. The squelching sound on every bounce makes my stomach turn, loud, wet, obscene in a way that never bothered me before but now feels… wrong. I used to love this, crave it… used to beg her for it every day. Now every roll of her hips just makes me want to wince.

I need this over. I grip her hips, thrusting up harder, faster, talking filthy the way she likes. “Fuck, babe, you feel so good… ride me just like that… gonna make you come so hard…”

The words taste like ash, fake and forced. They don’t feel like mine anymore. But she doesn’t notice, she’s moaning louder, head thrown back, chasing it.

I’m already going soft again. The edge is slipping away, my dick deflating inside her even as I keep moving. Panic spikes… I can’t finish… so I fake it.

I groan and bury myself deep, hips jerking unevenly like I’m coming apart. “Fuck… Hannah… shit, I’m coming…”

My voice cracks on purpose, body shuddering in a performance I hate myself for. The fact that I’m already half-soft helps sell it; she thinks I’m oversensitive, spent too fast because I “missed her so much.”

She comes a second later, clenching around me, crying out my name. When she collapses on my chest, panting and happy, she kisses my jaw. “That was… wow. You really missed me, huh?”

I force another smile and wrap my arms around her. “Yeah. A lot.”

She sighs contentedly, nuzzling closer. I stare at the ceiling, chest hollow. She seems happy and satisfied. I feel empty, sad in a bone-deep way that makes my throat tight.

This is Hannah… the girl I’ve loved for a year. Pretty, kind, funny, and patient. The girl who’s held me, who laughed at my dumb jokes, who made me feel wanted. How has one time… one fucking time… with my best friend done this to me?

Was it just how good Cole felt? The tightness, the heat, the way he begged? Or is it more? That’s the question that’s been clawing at me since Saturday. Do I have feelings for him? Real ones? The clinginess today, the need to touch him, the way my body lit up just from his arm around me in lecture… it wasn’t just horniness. It felt like coming home.

And Hannah… she’s lovely, she should be enough. But if she were, I would’ve waited. I would’ve never begged Cole in the first place. I would’ve jerked off every night like a normal guy instead of crossing a line I couldn’t uncross.

Maybe this has been coming for a while. Maybe I’ve been drifting away from her longer than I realised, and Cole was just… the thing that made it impossible to ignore anymore.

I close my eyes, listening to her breathing even out against my chest.

I don’t know what I feel for him, but I know I’m losing what I felt for her. And that breaks my heart in the worst, backwards way.

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It’s only eight, but Hannah’s already out cold. She’s snoring, not the cute, soft kind you can tease her about later, but full-on, rattling exhales that fill the room like a chainsaw on low. I used to rib her mercilessly about it, “Babe, you snore worse than me after a game,” and she’d laugh and shove me. Tonight, the sound just grates. It means she’s deep in sleep, though, which is the only silver lining. There’s no way I’m sleeping next to that, not now, not with my head this loud.

I slide out from under her carefully, her arm flopping off my chest like dead weight. I pull my boxers back on, quiet, quick, and move the chair from under the door handle. The scrape of wood on wood feels deafening in the silence, but she doesn’t stir. I crack the door, step through, and ease it shut behind me.

The second it clicks closed, I exhale, like I’ve been holding my breath for hours. Relief hits so hard, just breathing space. Fuck.

I lean against the wall for a second, eyes closed. This overwhelming pressure builds behind my sternum, not guilt, exactly; I don’t regret what happened with Cole. That’s the worst part… I don’t regret begging him, don’t regret sliding into him, don’t regret the way he came apart under me. If anything, I want it again, and that realisation sits like lead in my gut. Hannah loves me, and I… I can’t confidently say I love her back anymore. Not the way I used to, not the way she deserves. It dawns on me, slow and brutal: I’m going to have to tell her. I’m going to have to end this. And with her mom so sick, with everything she’s already carrying… fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

I push off the wall and pad to the kitchenette, fill a glass with water from the tap, and down it in three gulps. The cold shocks my throat, but it doesn’t touch the ache in my chest. I set the glass down too hard; it clinks against the counter.

My eyes drift to the bag of snacks still sitting there, the treats I bought for Cole. Chocolate, gummies, those extra-cheesy chips we fight over. A small, involuntary smile tugs at my mouth. It would’ve been so nice, just us. Couch, dark room, stupid movie, him laughing at my dumb jokes, maybe leaning into each other until it turned into something more. Cuddling. God, the thought of curling around him, his back to my chest, my arm over his waist, breathing him in, hits me like a punch. I swallow hard.

Then my gaze lands on the little tube of lube, half-hidden under a bag of chips. I pull it free, feeling the small, cool weight in my palm. I stare at it like it’s evidence of a crime I’m about to commit.

I debate with myself, a loud, vicious debate in my head. This is insane… she’s asleep in the next room. Cole’s probably pissed… this could ruin everything. But the truth cuts through the noise like a blade: I want Cole’s dick; I want him inside me. And right now, with Hannah asleep and the dorm quiet… apparently that’s enough. Enough that my feet are already moving.