Chapter 145: Teach me, Touch me -3

Few weeks had passed after our first attempt at oral sex.

Classes blurred into one another. We still studied in the same corners of the library, still shared the same late-night snacks from the convenience store near the dorms, still walked side by side after evening lectures while the campus lights hummed above us.

Nothing about the shape of our friendship had changed on the outside. My roommates still raised their eyebrows when Kelvin stayed past midnight.

I still shrugged and said he was just easier to be around than most people.

The difference lived in the quiet spaces between us -the way his hand would find the small of my back when no one was looking, the way my pulse jumped every time his knee brushed mine under a study table.

I got better with my mouth.

It happened gradually, the way most things between us did.

One evening in his room after a long day of group projects, we ended up on the bed again.

This time when I slid down, I already knew the angle that kept my teeth out of the way.

I knew how to use the soft inside of my lips, how to breathe through my nose, how to take him a little deeper without choking.

Kelvin’s fingers tightened in my hair when I found a rhythm that made his hips twitch. The low sound he made was nothing like the sharp inhale from the first time. It was warmer.

I stayed with his cock in my mouth until his thighs tensed under my palms and he pulled me up with a shaky laugh, kissing the taste of himself off my mouth.

Afterward we lay tangled in the sheets, the window cracked open to the cool night air.

His hand traced idle circles on my stomach. I could feel the steady thud of his heart against my shoulder.

"I’ve been thinking," he said quietly.

I turned my head. The lamp on his desk threw soft gold across half his face.

"About what?"

"About going further. If you want." His thumb kept moving, slow and absent. "Actual sex. Not just hands and mouths."

The words landed heavy in my chest. I stared at the ceiling for a long moment, feeling my pulse climb into my throat.

Part of me had been waiting for this conversation. Another part of me had been carefully not thinking about it.

"I don’t know which way I’d even want it," I admitted. The honesty felt scraped raw.

"I keep trying to picture it and I freeze. Like... do I want to be the one inside you, or do I want you inside me? I don’t know which one feels more like me."

Kelvin was quiet for a few breaths. When he spoke again his voice was steady, unhurried.

"I’m vers. I can go either way. Top or bottom-both feel good to me. Whatever you decide you want to try first, I’ll meet you there. No pressure. We can stop the second it doesn’t feel right."

The simplicity of it loosened something tight behind my ribs. I rolled onto my side so I could see his face properly. His eyes were open, patient, waiting.

"I think..." My voice came out smaller than I expected.

"I think I want to try bottoming first. Having you inside me. Just to know what it feels like."

A soft exhale left him. Not surprise - more like quiet relief that I’d chosen something at all.

"Okay," he said.

"Then we do it right. There’s stuff you need to know before we even get close to that."

He shifted up onto one elbow so he could look at me fully. The next part came out clear and practical, the same way he explained difficult equations when we studied together.

"First - douching. You need to clean yourself out so there’s nothing left inside that could make a mess or make you self-conscious. We will buy a small bulb syringe from the pharmacy, the kind meant for that. You fill it with lukewarm water- nothing hot, nothing with soap. You insert it gently, squeeze the water in, hold it for a few seconds, then let it out in the toilet. You do it a few times until the water runs clear. Not too much pressure. You don’t want to push water too far up or you’ll just irritate yourself."

I nodded, already feeling heat crawl up my neck at how clinical and intimate the instructions were at the same time.

"Second -food. Don’t eat a heavy meal for at least four or five hours before. Lighter food earlier in the day is fine. You just don’t want your system working hard right when we’re trying this. And stay hydrated, but not so much that you’re uncomfortable."

His hand found mine under the sheet and laced our fingers together.

"Then I’ll get lube. Lots of it. Water-based is easiest to clean. I’ll go slow- fingers first, one at a time, until your body opens up enough. You have to breathe through it. The first stretch always feels intense. If it hurts sharp, we stop. Dull pressure is normal. Sharp pain is not. You tell me every single second how it feels."

I swallowed. My mouth had gone dry.

"And condoms," he added. "Even if I’m the one topping. We both still use them, incase there’s a switch in-between."

Silence settled between us for a moment. Outside, someone laughed in the hallway and the sound faded away again.

I could feel my own heartbeat in places that had nothing to do with my chest - low in my stomach, between my legs, at the base of my throat.

"When?" I asked.

Kelvin’s mouth curved, soft. "Whenever you’re ready. We can set a night. You do the prep. I’ll make sure we have everything. And if you change your mind at any point - before, during, after - we stop. No questions."

I looked at him for a long time. The same quiet patience was still there, the same careful way he had always looked at me since the beginning.

My body felt both heavy and light at once, like it was already bracing for something it didn’t fully understand yet.

"Okay," I said. The word came out steadier than I felt.

"This weekend. Saturday night. My roommates are going home for the long weekend. We’ll have the place to ourselves."

Kelvin leaned in and kissed me -slow, thorough, the kind of kiss that felt like a promise and a question at the same time.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against mine.

"Saturday," he murmured. "We’ll go as slow as you need."

I closed my eyes and let the weight of the decision settle over me.

Somewhere under the nerves, under the uncertainty, a low current of want was already starting to hum.

---

Saturday had taken forever to arrive, but finally, today is the day.

I spent the afternoon following Kelvin’s instructions exactly.

I didn’t eat after two o’clock - just water and a little plain toast earlier.

Around five I locked the bathroom door and did the douching the way he had explained: lukewarm water, small bulb, gentle pressure, repeating until it ran clear.

It felt clinical and strangely intimate at the same time. When I finished I stood under the shower longer than necessary, heart already beating too fast, skin prickling with nerves.

By the time Kelvin knocked, the room was dim, the only light coming from the desk lamp turned low.

I opened the door and he stepped inside carrying a small bag.

He locked it behind him without being asked. For a moment we just looked at each other.

His eyes moved over my face the way they always did - checking, reading my expression.

"You okay?" he asked quietly.

I nodded, even though my stomach was tight. "I did everything. The cleaning. I haven’t eaten since early."

"Good." He set the bag down and stepped closer. His hands came up to frame my face, thumbs resting lightly against my cheekbones.

"We go as slow as you need. You say stop, we stop. No pride, no pushing through."

I kissed him first. It started soft, then deepened when his mouth opened under mine.

The familiar taste of him settled some of the shaking in my hands. We undressed each other without rushing - shirts first, then the rest - until there was nothing left between us but warm skin and the cool air of the room.

My cock was already half-hard from nerves and want mixed together. His was thicker, heavier against my hip when he pulled me close.

We moved to the bed. Kelvin laid me on my back and stretched out beside me, one leg sliding between mine.

His hand travelled slowly down my chest, over my stomach, then wrapped around my cock with the same patient stroke he had taught me weeks ago.

I reached for him in return, stroking him while we kissed, the wet sound of our mouths loud in the quiet room.