Two virgins. One library. Zero idea what they're doing.

When Ellie helps Jacob save his dying laptop, she doesn't expect him to ask for her number. She definitely doesn't expect that two months later, she'll be lying in his bed, both of them terrified and turned on, about to have sex for the very first time.

But here's the thing about first times: they're just the beginning.

First Everything is the explicit, intimate story of Ellie and Jacob's sexual awakening—from fumbling with condom wrappers to discovering that "throbbing manhood" is a phrase that should never be spoken aloud. From learning what makes each other gasp to the moment they stop using protection and feel each other completely bare.

This isn't a romance where sex happens off-page. This is 19 chapters of two people learning each other's bodies, pushing boundaries, failing spectacularly, and succeeding beautifully. Missionary and doggy style. Vibrators and dirty talk. The train ride that checks "semi-public sex" off their fantasy list.

Every orgasm. Every awkward conversation. Every vulnerable moment that builds toward complete trust and complete intimacy.

Content warning: Extremely explicit sexual content throughout. This book is not suitable for readers under 18 or those looking for closed-door romance.

The University of Washington library's third floor was Ellie's favorite—quiet enough that the undergrads rarely ventured up from the main study areas, populated mostly by grad students who respected the unspoken rules about keeping noise to whispers and keeping emotional breakdowns confined to the stairwells.

She was reshelfing returns in the literature section, her cart half-empty, when she heard the sound that every library employee dreaded: a laptop shutting down mid-work, followed by a very emphatic "Fuck."

Ellie turned to find a tall guy in his late twenties staring at his now-black laptop screen with the specific expression of someone watching their entire plan disintegrate in real time. Wire-rimmed glasses. Dark wavy hair that looked like he'd been running his hands through it. A tech company hoodie—Amazon, she noted—and the kind of desperate panic that suggested this wasn't just an inconvenience.

She approached carefully. "Everything okay?"

He looked up, and Ellie registered warm brown eyes behind those glasses, a mixed Latino complexion, and the bone structure of someone who'd been gangly in high school and grown into it. "My laptop just died. I have a presentation in—" he checked his watch, "—forty-five minutes and everything is on this machine."

"Dead battery?"

"Yeah. And I'm an idiot who forgot his charger." He pressed the power button again as if maybe the laptop would magically resurrect itself through sheer force of will. "I was running some resource-heavy programs earlier and didn't realize how fast it was draining. I'm so fucked."

Ellie set down her reshelfing cart. "What kind of laptop?"

"Dell. Why?" He looked confused about why that mattered.

"Because we have a back room full of chargers people have left behind over the years. Like, dozens of them. There's probably something that'll work." She gestured for him to follow. "Come on."

His expression shifted from panic to cautious hope. "Seriously?"

"Dead chargers and forgotten phone cables are basically our most common lost items. We keep everything for a year before donating." Ellie led him toward the staff area behind the circulation desk. "I'm Ellie, by the way."

"Jacob." He followed her past the "Staff Only" sign, into a small room lined with shelves of abandoned items. "Please tell me you can find something that fits."

Ellie surveyed the collection of chargers hanging on hooks, organized by brand and connector type because she'd reorganized them herself last month during a slow shift. "Dell, Dell... here." She pulled down three options. "One of these should work."

They returned to his table and Ellie tested each charger until the third one clicked into place and the laptop made the satisfying chime of charging resumed. Jacob's whole body sagged with relief.

"You just saved my entire career." He plugged fully into the wall outlet, watching his battery percentage tick up. "Seriously. This presentation is for a major client and if I'd shown up empty-handed—" He shook his head. "Thank you. So much."

"Just doing my job. Though usually I'm just helping people find books, not rescuing presentations." Ellie gestured at the charger. "You can borrow that. Just bring it back when you're done."

"I will. Definitely." Jacob stood, checking his watch again—thirty-five minutes now. "Can I buy you coffee? As a thank you?"

Ellie felt heat rise in her cheeks. "You don't have to⁠—"

"I want to. After my meeting. If you're free." He pulled out his phone. "Can I text you?"

She gave him her number, he sent a quick text so she'd have his, and then he was gathering his laptop and borrowed charger and heading toward the elevators, relief evident in every line of his body.

Abdi from circulation leaned against her reshelfing cart. "That man just asked you out."

"He asked to buy me coffee. As a thank you."

"Ellie. He asked for your number and left looking like he'd just met his future wife. That was not 'thanks for the charger' energy."

Coffee Date

The coffee happened three days later at a place near campus that specialized in elaborate pour-overs and had absolutely no chain-store atmosphere. Jacob showed up early, clearly nervous, wearing a button-down instead of his hoodie like he'd put actual thought into this.

Ellie wore her favorite cardigan and jeans and tried not to overthink whether this counted as a date.

"Presentation went great," Jacob said once they'd settled at a corner table with their drinks. "My boss asked how I recovered the files so fast and I told her I had help from the smartest librarian in Seattle."

"I'm not sure I qualify as the smartest, but I'll take the compliment."

They talked for two hours. Ellie learned that Jacob worked in IT security at a tech company downtown, that he'd grown up in Redmond, that he was close with his parents in a way that sounded healthy rather than suffocating. That he'd been obsessed with Firefly as a teenager and still maintained it was cancelled too soon. That he overthought everything and had approximately sixteen browser tabs open at any given time.

Jacob learned that Ellie had studied English lit with vague plans of teaching that she'd abandoned once she realized she didn't want to deal with teenagers. That her parents were divorced and she wasn't particularly close with either. That she'd moved to Seattle for school and stayed because going back to Spokane felt like regression. That she read voraciously, had opinions about the Oxford comma, and found comfort in the specific smell of old books.

"This is going to sound weird," Jacob said as they walked back toward campus afterward, "but I really like talking to you. Like, this is the easiest conversation I've had with someone in years."

"It doesn't sound weird." Ellie's stomach fluttered with something that might have been hope. "I like talking to you too."

"Can we do this again? The coffee thing?"

"Yeah. I'd like that."

First Kiss

The second coffee date led to a third. The third led to dinner. Dinner led to a movie that neither of them really watched because they were too busy talking during the previews and then feeling self-conscious about talking during the movie.

Their first kiss happened after their fifth date, on Ellie's apartment building steps at midnight, both of them nervous and awkward and convinced they were doing it wrong until they realized they were both overthinking it.

Ellie invited him up to her studio apartment, where her roommate was mercifully asleep behind a curtain divider. They made out on her couch like teenagers, hands wandering but not too far, both aware that they were building toward something but not ready to name it yet.

"I should tell you something," Ellie said when they came up for air, her lips swollen, Jacob's glasses slightly askew.

"Okay."

"I've never... I haven't done this before. Like, any of this. Not past making out."

Jacob was quiet for a moment, and Ellie braced herself for disappointment or judgment or the inevitable "you're HOW old and still a virgin?" that she'd gotten from previous guys who'd lost interest after that revelation.

"Me neither," Jacob said quietly. "I thought I was the only person our age who hadn't figured this out yet."

"Really?"

"Really. I just... never found the right person. Never felt comfortable enough with anyone to try." He took her hand, threading their fingers together. "But I'm comfortable with you."

"I'm comfortable with you too."

They didn't have sex that night, or the next time they saw each other, or the time after that. They were building something slowly, learning each other's boundaries, figuring out what they wanted. Making out became more intense, clothes came off in stages, hands explored new territory with explicit permission requested and granted.

By six weeks, they were spending most nights together, sleeping in the same bed but always pulling back before taking that final step. Always finding a reason to wait. "Not yet. Not tonight. Soon, but not yet."

Eight months in, Ellie realized she was tired of waiting. Tired of being scared. Ready to figure this out together.

And Jacob, independently, had come to the same conclusion.

Which was why his roommate disappeared for the weekend. Why they ordered Thai food neither of them could eat. Why they sat on opposite ends of his couch, both nervous and terrified and ready.

Why tonight felt momentous.

Because after two months of building toward this, of learning each other in every way except this final one, they were finally ready.

Tonight was the night everything would change.

The coffee table held the remnants of Thai takeout neither of them had finished—pad thai cooling in its container, spring rolls picked at but abandoned. Ellie sat on one end of Jacob's thrift-store couch, her legs tucked under her, wearing the oversized cardigan that made her feel safe and the jeans that actually fit her hips without gaping at the waist. Rain drummed against the window behind them, Seattle doing what Seattle did best in November. The apartment smelled like lemongrass from dinner and the sandalwood candle Jacob's roommate had left burning before disappearing for the weekend.

That disappearance hadn't been accidental. They'd planned this—not explicitly, but in the way couples did when they'd been dating for eight months and kept stopping themselves at the same point, kept pulling back before things went further, kept saying "not yet" until "not yet" started feeling more like fear than caution.

Jacob sat on the other end of the couch, his long legs stretched out, one foot bouncing slightly. He wore the faded Modest Mouse shirt she'd once borrowed, sweatpants that hung low on his narrow hips. His dark hair fell across his forehead, and he kept pushing it back only for it to immediately flop down again.

She's been quiet for ten minutes and I don't know if that means she's changed her mind or if she's just thinking and fuck, why is this so hard, we've talked about it, we both said we wanted to, but talking about it and actually doing it are completely different things⁠—

"Do you want to watch something?" Ellie asked, her voice softer than usual, and Jacob recognized the tone as the one she used when she was offering an out, a way to pretend they weren't both thinking about the same thing.

"We could," he said, which wasn't yes or no, which was safe.

Ellie picked at a thread on her cardigan sleeve. Outside, a car alarm briefly wailed before cutting off. The building's heating system clanked somewhere in the walls. She could feel her heartbeat in her throat, that anxious flutter that made her want to simultaneously jump off a bridge and hide under blankets.

He's going to think I'm backing out. Maybe I am backing out. No, I'm not, I want this, I want him, I've wanted this for months but Jesus Christ actually doing it is different than thinking about doing it in the shower where everything feels easy and uncomplicated⁠—

"Or we could..." Jacob started, then stopped, his foot bouncing faster.

Ellie looked at him, really looked at him, and saw the same nervousness reflected in the way he held his shoulders, the way his fingers drummed against his thigh. That helped somehow—knowing he was just as terrified as she was.

"We could go to your room," she finished for him, her voice barely above a whisper.

Jacob's foot stopped bouncing. "Yeah. We could do that."

Neither of them moved for a long moment. Then Ellie stood, and Jacob stood, and they navigated the small apartment like they were walking through a dream, hyper-aware of every step, every breath. His room was at the end of the short hallway—door half-open, string lights he'd hung at Ellie's suggestion casting everything in warm amber.

The room smelled like him, that specific combination of Old Spice deodorant and the mint chapstick he was addicted to and something else that was just Jacob, something she'd come to associate with safety. His bed was made—he'd made it this morning, she realized, which meant he'd been thinking about this too, planning for it, hoping for it.

They stood beside the bed, both suddenly aware of how momentous this was supposed to be, how it carried weight that neither of them had asked for but couldn't shake. Ellie's hands found the hem of her cardigan, fingers working the fabric.

"I'm nervous," she said, because saying it out loud felt better than letting it sit in her chest.

"Me too." Jacob's voice cracked slightly on "too," which would have been funny in any other context. He reached for her hand, threading their fingers together. His palm was slightly sweaty, and that was comforting in a weird way—proof that his body was as amped up on adrenaline as hers. "We don't have to⁠—"

"I want to," Ellie interrupted, squeezing his hand. "I'm nervous but I want to. Both things can be true."

God, she's perfect, how is she perfect, how did I end up with someone who gets scared but does things anyway, who's honest about being scared instead of pretending⁠—

Jacob kissed her then, pulling her closer, and kissing was familiar territory at least. They'd been making out for months, knew the rhythm of each other's mouths, knew that Ellie liked when he bit her lower lip gently and Jacob melted when she ran her fingers through his hair. This kiss was different though—slower, more deliberate, carrying the weight of what came next.

Ellie's cardigan hit the floor, and then Jacob was pulling his shirt over his head, revealing the lean torso she'd felt through fabric but never seen fully. He was pale, a small constellation of moles across his left shoulder, the faint outline of ribs visible beneath skin. She ran her hand across his chest, feeling the rapid thump of his heart, and he shivered at her touch.

"Your hands are cold," he murmured against her mouth.

"Sorry."

"Don't be." His fingers found the hem of her shirt, hesitated. "Can I?"

Ellie nodded, raising her arms, and Jacob pulled the fabric up and off. She'd worn the nice bra—black lace from Target, nothing fancy but better than the sports bras she usually lived in. She fought the urge to cross her arms over her stomach, over the soft curve of her belly that romance novels never mentioned and Instagram filtered away.

He's looking at me and I want to hide but also I want him to keep looking, want him to want me the way I am, want this to be okay⁠—

"You're beautiful," Jacob said, and his voice carried such genuine awe that Ellie felt tears prick her eyes for reasons she couldn't fully articulate.

They moved to the bed, crawling onto the mattress that was too small for two people but would have to work. The sheets were navy blue, soft from being washed too many times. Ellie lay back against the pillow, and Jacob settled beside her, half-covering her body with his, still kissing her like if he stopped the spell might break.

His hand explored her side, following the curve from ribs to waist to hip, learning the landscape of her body. When his fingers brushed the underside of her breast through lace, they both inhaled sharply. He did it again, more deliberately, and Ellie arched slightly into the touch.

"Can I take this off?" His fingers hooked the edge of her bra, and Ellie nodded, sitting up enough for him to reach the clasp. He fumbled with it, couldn't get it to release, tried again. "How do these... there's no... fuck⁠—"

"It's okay," Ellie reached back, undid it herself with practiced ease, let the straps slide down her arms.

And then she was topless in front of another person for the first time in her life, and Jacob was staring at her breasts like they were holy relics, and she didn't know whether to laugh or cry or cover herself.

Don't overthink this don't overthink this don't⁠—

Jacob's mouth found her nipple, and suddenly overthinking became impossible because oh, oh that felt—his tongue circled the sensitive skin, lips closing around it, and Ellie made a sound she'd never heard herself make before, something between a gasp and a whimper.

"Was that okay?" Jacob pulled back immediately, concerned.

"Yes," Ellie managed, her hand going to his hair, guiding him back. "Very okay."

He continued his exploration, alternating between breasts, learning what made her breath hitch, what made her fingers tighten in his hair. Ellie's hands wandered too, tracing the planes of his back, feeling muscles shift beneath skin. When she reached the waistband of his sweatpants, she hesitated.

"Can I?"

"Yeah. Yes. Please."

She pushed the fabric down, and Jacob kicked the sweatpants off the end of the bed. He wore boxer briefs, gray with a small hole near the elastic that he probably didn't know was there, and she could see the outline of his erection straining against the fabric. Seeing it made it real—made what they were about to do feel imminent rather than theoretical.

Jacob's hands found the button of her jeans, worked it open, dragged the zipper down tooth by tooth. "Lift up?"

Ellie raised her hips, and he tugged the denim down her legs, taking her socks with it in a practical move that made her love him even more. Her underwear was basic cotton, Thursday printed on the waistband because she bought in packs of seven and never paid attention to which day she was wearing, and she felt a flash of embarrassment before remembering that Jacob had a hole in his boxer briefs, that they were both just people with regular underwear and regular bodies about to do something that felt anything but regular.

They lay facing each other now, mostly naked, close enough that she could feel the heat radiating off his skin. Rain still pattered against the window. String lights cast shifting shadows across his face.

"I don't really know what I'm doing," Jacob admitted, his hand resting on her hip, thumb rubbing slow circles against skin.

"Me neither." Ellie kissed him again, tasting mint chapstick and Thai food and nervousness. "We'll figure it out."

Together. We'll figure it out together. That's what this is supposed to be—figuring it out together instead of one person knowing and the other person following⁠—

Jacob's hand slid from her hip to her thigh, up and then down again, not quite reaching where she wanted him to touch but getting closer with each pass. When his fingers finally brushed over cotton, over the heat between her legs, Ellie's hips jerked involuntarily.

"Is this okay?"

"Mmhmm." She couldn't form actual words right now, not with his fingers moving against fabric, applying pressure that wasn't quite enough and too much simultaneously.

He pushed her underwear aside, and then his fingers were touching bare skin, slipping between folds, exploring with the tentative curiosity of someone reading a map in a foreign language. He was too high, too light, then too rough, trying different pressures and locations to see what worked.

"There," Ellie gasped when he accidentally brushed her clit, and Jacob focused his attention there, circling the sensitive bundle of nerves with more confidence now that he had direction.

Ellie reached for him in return, slipping her hand inside his boxer briefs, fingers wrapping around heated flesh for the first time. Jacob groaned—actually groaned, a sound from deep in his chest—and his hips thrust into her grip involuntarily.

"Fuuuck," he breathed, the word drawn out and shaky.

She stroked experimentally, learning the weight of him, the texture, the way his cock pulsed in her hand. Jacob's breathing went ragged against her neck, his fingers losing their rhythm on her clit as he got lost in his own sensation.

"Wait, wait," he gasped suddenly, catching her wrist. "If you keep doing that I'm going to come and I want... I want to be inside you when that happens."

Ellie's stomach flipped at the words, at the directness of them. "Okay. Yeah. Okay."

Jacob sat up, fishing in the drawer of his nightstand for a condom—one of the ones they'd bought together two weeks ago at Target, both of them blushing in the family planning aisle, neither of them acknowledging what buying condoms meant they were planning. He tore the package open, then stared at the latex like it might bite him.

"Do you know how to...?"

"I watched a video," Jacob admitted, which was so endearingly him that Ellie felt a surge of affection strong enough to ache. "But watching a video and actually doing it are probably different."

He rolled it on—backwards first, then correcting with fumbling fingers—and Ellie wiggled out of her Thursday underwear, kicking it somewhere toward the end of the bed. Naked. They were both completely naked now, no more barriers between them except fear and inexperience and the mutual understanding that what they were about to do would change things, would cross a line that couldn't be uncrossed.

This is it this is actually it and I want this I really do want this even though I'm scared because being scared and wanting something aren't mutually exclusive and he's looking at me like I'm precious, like I matter, and that's worth everything⁠—

Jacob moved between her legs, positioning himself. "How should we...?"

"Like this is good," Ellie said, spreading her thighs wider, trying to remember everything she'd read in those romance novels, trying not to think about how exposed she was right now, how vulnerable. "Just... go slow?"

He nodded, bracing himself on his forearms on either side of her head, and she could feel him pressing against her entrance, hot and hard and insistent. He pushed forward experimentally, and it didn't work—the angle was wrong, or maybe she wasn't relaxed enough, but his cock just sort of pressed against her without going in.

"Sorry, let me—" Ellie reached down, guiding him, angling her hips differently.

He tried again, and this time the head of his cock breached her entrance, and oh⁠—

"Ow," Ellie gasped, because it hurt, not terribly but enough that her body tensed, trying to reject the intrusion.

Jacob froze immediately. "Shit, should I stop? Do you want to stop?"

"No, just... give me a second." She breathed through the initial burning sensation, willing her muscles to relax, reminding herself that this was supposed to hurt a little the first time, that she'd known this going in. "Okay. Keep going. Slow."

He pushed further, inch by careful inch, and Ellie felt the stretch of it, the uncomfortable fullness of having something inside her body that had never been there before. It wasn't like the romance novels—there was no sudden flash of pleasure overriding the pain, no perfect moment where discomfort transformed into ecstasy. It just hurt, and felt weird, and was somehow still meaningful despite those things.

"You okay?" Jacob's voice was strained, his whole body rigid with the effort of going slow, of not just thrusting like his body clearly wanted to.

"Yeah. Are you?"

"I'm inside you," he said, wonder evident in his voice despite the awkward circumstances. "I'm actually inside you."

Holy shit I'm inside her, this is real, this is happening, she's so tight it's almost painful and hot and wet and I'm trying so hard not to move too fast, not to fuck this up⁠—

He started moving—shallow thrusts at first, barely pulling out before pushing back in. Ellie wrapped her legs around his waist, trying to find an angle that felt less uncomfortable and more like what sex was supposed to feel like. Her body was adjusting, the pain fading to something more tolerable, though "pleasure" still felt like an overstatement.

Jacob's rhythm was unsteady, sometimes too fast, sometimes losing the angle entirely and slipping out before fumbling to push back in. Sweat beaded on his forehead, his arms shaking with the effort of holding himself up, and Ellie could see the concentration on his face, the determination to make this good for both of them even though neither of them really knew what they were doing.

"You can go harder," she said, because watching him hold back seemed worse than whatever discomfort might come from him letting go.

Permission granted, Jacob's hips snapped forward with more force, and Ellie gasped—not entirely from pain this time, something else threading through the sensation, something that might eventually become pleasure if they kept doing this. She rocked up to meet his thrusts, trying to find the rhythm, trying to make her body work with his instead of against it.

"Oh fuck, Ellie, I'm—" Jacob's warning came too late. His body went rigid, hips jerking erratically, a choked sound escaping his throat as he came inside her, the condom catching everything but not the sensation of his cock pulsing, the knowledge of what was happening.

He collapsed onto her, breathing hard against her neck, and Ellie held him, running her fingers through his sweat-damp hair. She felt... she wasn't sure what she felt. Tender toward him, certainly. A little disappointed that she hadn't come, though she'd known that was unlikely. Relieved it was over. Glad it had happened. All of those things simultaneously.

"I'm sorry," Jacob mumbled against her skin. "That was like... two minutes. Maybe less. God, I'm sorry⁠—"

"Hey, no," Ellie tilted his face up so she could see him. "It's okay. It was your first time. Our first time. It's supposed to be kind of a disaster."

"Was it? A disaster?"

She considered this, running her thumb across his cheekbone. "It was awkward and kind of painful and you definitely came way too fast." Jacob groaned in embarrassment, and she smiled. "But it was also really sweet and I'm glad it was with you. Those things can all be true at once."

She's being nice and she means it and I love her so fucking much it hurts, I love her and I just had the worst sex performance in human history but she's still touching me like I matter⁠—

"Did you...?" He already knew the answer but asked anyway.

"No, but that's okay⁠—"

"It's not okay." Jacob pulled out carefully, dealing with the condom, then immediately returned his attention to her. "Tell me what to do. I want to make you feel good too."

Ellie's first instinct was to say it was fine, to not make him feel like he had to, but the earnest determination on his face stopped her. "Your fingers. Like before, but more pressure. And don't stop when I get close—that's the most important part, don't change what you're doing right when it's working."

Jacob's hand moved between her legs, fingers finding her clit with more sureness than before, now that he knew where to touch, what she responded to. He circled it, applied pressure, watched her face for cues about what felt good.

Ellie's hips lifted into the touch, chasing the sensation that had been building before he'd entered her, that had been shoved aside by the pain and awkwardness of penetration. Now, with that pressure gone, with his cock no longer inside her, she could focus on pure sensation—the rough pad of his finger against sensitive flesh, the pleasure building in waves, cresting higher each time.

"Like that," she breathed, one hand gripping his shoulder, the other fisted in the sheets. "Don't stop, just like that, please don't⁠—"

Jacob maintained his rhythm, steady and relentless, and Ellie felt the tension coiling tighter in her core, her thighs beginning to shake, her breathing going shallow and rapid. It built and built, pleasure mounting until it was almost unbearable, until she was making sounds she couldn't control—little whimpers and gasps that punctuated each breath.

"Oh god oh god oh—" The orgasm crashed over her suddenly, her whole body going taut, inner muscles clenching rhythmically as pleasure pulsed through her in waves. "Ahhhh, fuck, Jacob⁠—"

He kept his fingers moving through her climax, exactly like she'd told him to, drawing out each spasm until she was too sensitive and had to push his hand away, collapsing back against the pillows with a breathless laugh.

"Holy shit," she managed.

"Good holy shit?"

"Very good holy shit." Ellie pulled him down for a kiss, tasting sweat and satisfaction and the relief of having survived something they'd both been terrified of. "See? We figured it out."

They lay tangled together in the aftermath, limbs intertwined, both processing what had just happened. Outside, the rain had intensified, drumming steadily against glass. The string lights made everything soft and golden and safe.

"So that was sex," Jacob said eventually, a smile playing at his lips.

"That was sex," Ellie agreed. "Probably gets better with practice?"

"God, I hope so." He pressed his face into her shoulder, and she felt him laughing silently. "Though honestly, even if it doesn't, I'm just really glad we did it. That we're on the other side of all that nervous buildup."

And now we know. Now it's real instead of hypothetical. Now we can do it again without all the fear, or at least with less fear, and maybe it'll be better next time, and the time after that, and eventually we'll figure out how our bodies work together⁠—

Ellie ran her fingers through his hair, feeling incredibly tender toward this gangly, sweet, awkward man who'd been as scared as she was but had done it anyway. "Want to order dessert? I saw a Thai place that delivers mango sticky rice."

"Are you seriously thinking about food right now?"

"Post-orgasm cravings are real." She kissed his temple. "Also I feel like we should commemorate this somehow, and mango sticky rice feels appropriately celebratory."

Jacob laughed properly then, rolling onto his back and pulling her against his side. "You're so fucking weird and I love you."

The words hung in the air—words they'd said before but that carried different weight now, after this intimacy, this vulnerability. Ellie tilted her head up to look at him.

"I love you too," she said, meaning it with her whole chest. "Even though you came in like ninety seconds."

"I hate you," Jacob said without heat, tickling her side until she squealed and squirmed away. "I'm ordering the sticky rice just so I can eat it all myself."

Ellie grabbed her phone from where she'd left it on the nightstand, pulling up the delivery app while Jacob found his boxer briefs and pulled them on. She stayed naked, curled in his sheets, feeling comfortable in her skin in a way she hadn't before. Something had shifted—not dramatically, not like losing her virginity had fundamentally transformed who she was, but enough that she felt different. More grown up, maybe. More connected to him. More certain that what they had was real and worth protecting.

The order placed, they lay in bed scrolling through social media, showing each other memes, existing in comfortable silence punctuated by occasional commentary. Normal couple things, except now they were a couple who'd had sex, who'd crossed that threshold and survived it intact.

"Next time will be better," Jacob said eventually, setting his phone aside. "I promise."

"Next time doesn't have to be better," Ellie said, though she appreciated the promise. "It just has to be us. The rest we'll figure out as we go."

She shifted to straddle him, sitting on his thighs, her hands on his chest. His hands came to her hips automatically, thumbs tracing circles against bare skin.

A Week Later

They'd been making out on the couch for twenty minutes, some Netflix show playing unwatched in the background, when Ellie pulled back and said, "Bedroom?"

Jacob nodded immediately, his lips already swollen from kissing, his hand pausing where it had been working its way under her shirt. A week had passed since their first time—a week of texting about it, laughing about the awkward parts, acknowledging that they both wanted to try again. His roommate was gone again, conveniently, and the apartment held that same charged anticipation as last time, except now they knew what they were walking toward.

The walk down the hallway felt less momentous this time. Still nervous, still carrying weight, but familiar now. Ellie kicked off her shoes at the door to his room, pulled her sweater over her head before they'd even reached the bed. She wore a black bra underneath, the same one from last time, and Jacob's hands went to her waist, pulling her against him.

"Hi," he said, which was dorky but sweet.

"Hi yourself." She kissed him again, fingers working at the buttons of his flannel, getting it open and pushed off his shoulders. The t-shirt underneath came next, and then they were tumbling onto the bed together, hands everywhere, mouths hungry.

Less scared this time. Still nervous but it's different when you know what's coming, when the mystery is gone and it's just about doing it again, hopefully better⁠—

Jacob's hands found the clasp of her bra, managed to get it undone on the first try this time, which felt like a small victory. Ellie's breasts spilled free, and his mouth went to them immediately, remembering what she'd responded to last time—circling her nipple with his tongue before sucking it between his lips, using his teeth gently enough to make her gasp.

"Mmm, yeah," Ellie breathed, her fingers threading through his hair, holding him there.

Her other hand worked at his belt, getting it unbuckled, popping the button of his jeans. Jacob helped her shove them down his hips along with his boxer briefs, kicking them off the end of the bed. His cock was already hard, bobbing between them as he moved, and Ellie wrapped her hand around it, stroking with more confidence than last time.

Jacob groaned—"Fuuuck"—his hips jerking into her grip, and she felt a thrill at causing that reaction, at having this power over his body.

She released him long enough to shimmy out of her own jeans and underwear, and then they were both naked, pressed together, heat and friction and the sound of their breathing filling the room. Rain pattered against the window—always rain in Seattle—and the string lights cast them both in warm amber.

Jacob's hand moved between her legs, fingers finding her clit with more sureness this time, rubbing circles that made her hips roll up to meet the pressure. He slid two fingers inside her, pumping slowly, and Ellie whimpered, her thighs falling open wider.

"You're so wet," he murmured against her neck, and the observation made her cheeks heat even as her pussy clenched around his fingers.

"That's good," she managed. "That means it's working."

He laughed, the sound vibrating against her skin, and continued fingering her while his thumb worked her clit. Ellie's breathing went shallow, pleasure building in steady waves, but she didn't want to come like this—wanted him inside her when it happened.

"Condom," she said, catching his wrist. "I want you inside me."

She wants me inside her, she actually wants this, wants me, and it's less terrifying than last time because we survived it once already⁠—

Jacob fumbled for the nightstand drawer, found a condom, tore the package open with more grace than last week. He rolled it on correctly on the first try, and Ellie felt absurdly proud of them both for these small improvements.

He positioned himself between her legs, the head of his cock pressing against her entrance, and this time when he pushed forward it went easier—still a stretch, still uncomfortable at first, but her body remembered this intrusion, accommodated it faster. Ellie breathed through the initial burn, and then he was fully inside her, both of them groaning at the sensation.

"Okay?" Jacob asked, holding still.

"Yeah. You can move."

He did, establishing a rhythm that was steadier than last time, more confident. His hips rolled forward and back, cock sliding in and out, creating friction that was starting to feel actually good rather than just uncomfortable. Ellie wrapped her legs around his waist, angling her hips differently, and oh—there, that hit something inside her that made sparks shoot up her spine.

"There," she gasped. "Keep that angle."

Jacob adjusted, hitting that spot with each thrust now, and Ellie's nails dug into his shoulders, her breathing going ragged. The pleasure was building differently this time, not just from her clit but from deep inside, from the slide of his cock against sensitive inner walls.

"Fuck, Ellie, you feel so good," Jacob groaned, his pace increasing, becoming less controlled. "So fucking tight and warm and—ahh⁠—"

His rhythm faltered, and Ellie felt him tensing above her, recognized the signs from last time that he was getting close. Something sparked in her brain—something she'd read about in one of those romance novels, something she'd seen in porn she'd watched while researching (because of course she'd researched), something that had seemed impossibly bold and sexy.

"Jacob, wait," she said suddenly, her hand on his chest. "When you're about to come—pull out."

"What?" He stilled inside her, confused, his face flushed and sweaty.

"Pull out. Take the condom off." Her heart hammered at her own boldness, at articulating this fantasy she'd been harboring. "I want you to come on my tits."

Holy shit holy SHIT is she serious, did she just say that, did Ellie just ask me to—fuck that's hot, that's so fucking hot⁠—

"Are you sure?" Jacob's voice came out strangled.

"Yes. I want to see it. I want to feel it."

That permission was all he needed. Jacob resumed thrusting, harder now, chasing his orgasm with renewed urgency. His cock slammed into her, the sound of skin slapping skin obscenely loud, and Ellie moaned with each impact, the pleasure-pain of it overwhelming.

"I'm close," he warned, his voice tight. "I'm gonna—fuck, I'm⁠—"

He pulled out abruptly, his cock slipping free with a wet sound, and scrambled to roll the condom off. Ellie propped herself up on her elbows, looking down at her own body, at her breasts rising and falling with her rapid breathing, at Jacob kneeling between her spread legs with his flushed cock in his fist.

He stroked himself once, twice, and then he was coming—his whole body jerking, a guttural "Ohhhh fuuuck" escaping his throat as thick ropes of cum spurted from his cock. The first hit her sternum, hot and wet. The second landed on her right breast, across her nipple. The third went higher than he'd intended, catching her chin, her lower lip, a drop landing on her tongue.

Ellie tasted salt and something else, something distinctly him, and without thinking she licked her lip, catching more. The taste was strange but not unpleasant, musky and intimate in a way that made heat pool in her belly despite not having come herself yet.

"Holy shit," Jacob breathed, staring at her cum-covered chest, at the evidence of his orgasm painting her pale skin. "That was—you look—fuck, Ellie⁠—"

She looked down at herself, at the mess he'd made, and felt a surge of something primal and satisfied. This was sexy. She was sexy. Covered in his cum, tasting him on her tongue, letting him mark her like this—it was dirty and intimate and perfect.

"Help me?" She gestured at the mess, reaching for the tissues on his nightstand, but Jacob caught her wrist.

"Wait. Let me—" His hand moved between her legs, fingers finding her swollen clit, rubbing with urgent purpose. "I want you to come too."

Ellie fell back against the pillows, his cum cooling on her skin, and let him work her toward orgasm. He rubbed tight circles, occasionally dipping his fingers inside her, fucking her with them while his thumb pressed against her clit. The dual stimulation combined with the residual arousal from being fucked and the sheer dirtiness of what had just happened pushed her toward the edge fast.

"Close," she whimpered, her hips rocking against his hand. "So close, don't stop, please don't—ahhh⁠—"

The orgasm crashed through her, her back arching off the bed, thighs clamping around his hand as pleasure pulsed through her in waves. "Oh god, oh fuck, Jacob—" Her voice broke on his name, high and desperate, and she rode the sensation until it became too much and she had to push his hand away.

They lay there breathing hard, Ellie still covered in cum, both of them processing what had just happened. Jacob reached for tissues, gently cleaning her chest, wiping the evidence away with surprising tenderness.

"That was..." he started.

"Hot," Ellie finished, grinning at him. "That was really fucking hot."

"You liked it? When I—on you?"

"Yeah." She pulled him down for a kiss, tasting herself on his fingers, letting him taste himself on her tongue. "I liked it a lot. We should definitely do that again."

She liked it she actually liked it and Jesus Christ I just came on her face and she LIKED it⁠—

Jacob collapsed beside her, pulling her against his chest, both of them sticky with sweat and satisfaction. Outside, the rain continued its steady rhythm, and Ellie traced patterns on his chest while their breathing slowly returned to normal.

"Next time I want to try going down on you," Jacob said after a while, his fingers trailing up and down her spine. "If you want. I've been watching videos."

Ellie laughed, turning her face into his shoulder. "You've been watching instructional cunnilingus videos?"

"I want to be good at it!" His voice carried defensive embarrassment. "Sue me for doing research."

She kissed his jaw, his throat, the soft spot behind his ear that made him shiver. "I'm not complaining. Research away. We'll try that next time."

They lay tangled together, discussing next times and experiments and slowly building a catalog of things they wanted to try, both of them more comfortable now, more certain that what they were creating together was worth every awkward moment, every fumble, every surprise that turned out better than expected.

Ellie sat cross-legged on her bed, laptop balanced on her thighs, incognito browser open. The apartment was quiet except for the hum of her ancient radiator and distant traffic noise filtering through single-pane windows. Her roommate had left for Thanksgiving break that morning, wouldn't be back until Sunday, which meant Ellie had the place to herself for a full week.

Perfect timing.

She'd been thinking about this since last Friday, since Jacob had gone down on her and she'd fallen apart under his mouth. Fair was fair—she wanted to return the favor, wanted to make him feel as good as he'd made her feel. But the thought of actually putting his cock in her mouth, of not knowing what she was doing, of potentially being terrible at it, had kept her from suggesting it in the moment.

So: research. Like everything else in her life, Ellie approached this academically first.

She started with articles. "How to Give a Blowjob: A Beginner's Guide" from some women's health website. The language was clinical, almost sterile—"create suction with your lips," "use your hand in conjunction with your mouth," "pay attention to the frenulum." It was informative but completely unsexy, like reading a manual on how to change a tire.

Ellie scrolled through several more articles, taking mental notes. Don't use teeth. Saliva is your friend. Communication is key. The balls are sensitive, be gentle there. All useful information, but none of it answered her real questions: What did it actually look like? What sounds did guys make? How much could you realistically fit in your mouth before you gagged?

She closed the articles, opened a new tab, typed "blowjob tutorial" into the search bar, then hesitated with her finger over the enter key.

This is for educational purposes. This is research. Perfectly reasonable to watch videos when you're trying to learn something new.

The search results were a mix of instructional videos and straight-up porn. Ellie clicked on one that looked educational—a woman talking directly to the camera, demonstrating techniques on a dildo. The woman had the overly enthusiastic energy of a fitness instructor, treating the dildo like it was a piece of gym equipment.

"See how I'm creating that vacuum seal with my lips? That's what creates the sensation⁠—"

Ellie watched for fifteen minutes, learning the mechanics, but it still felt too detached. Clinical. Like watching a cooking show where you never got to taste the food.

She exited the video, scrolled further down the search results, and clicked on something that was definitely porn.

The video loaded—a bedroom setting, professional lighting, a woman on her knees between a man's spread legs. The video was already in progress, the woman's head bobbing up and down, saliva glistening on her chin, obscene wet sounds filling Ellie's speakers before she frantically turned the volume down.

Oh.

This was different.

The woman took the guy deep, her nose pressing against his pelvis, throat visibly working, and the guy groaned—"Fuuuck, just like that, take it all"—his hand tangling in her hair. When she pulled back, gasping, strings of saliva connected her lips to his cock, and she looked up at him with watery eyes and a expression that was pure lust.

Ellie felt heat bloom in her belly, spreading outward. This wasn't instructional. This was raw and dirty and impossibly hot.

She clicked to another video. "Rough Face Fucking Compilation" the title read, and Ellie's finger hovered over the mouse, debating. Then she clicked.

Tuesday, 1:23 AM

Ellie had been watching porn for over an hour.

She'd gone down a rabbit hole of videos—face fucking, deep throating, guys coming in women's mouths, on their faces, women gagging and crying and loving it, or at least performing loving it for the camera. It was intense and aggressive and nothing like the clinical tutorials from earlier.

Her hand had drifted between her legs twenty minutes ago, fingers rubbing slow circles over her clit through her underwear. She was soaked, her cotton panties damp with arousal, but she wasn't letting herself come yet. Just building it, letting the tension coil tighter while she watched.

On screen, a woman knelt with her hands behind her back while a guy fucked her mouth, his cock disappearing down her throat over and over. The woman gagged, saliva dripping down her chin onto her breasts, mascara running, but she kept taking it, kept opening her throat for him.

"Such a good girl," the guy groaned, his grip tight in her hair. "Taking my cock so deep⁠—"

Ellie's fingers moved faster, pressing harder against her clit, her other hand sliding under her shirt to squeeze her breast. She imagined being that woman, imagined Jacob's cock in her mouth, imagined the weight of it on her tongue, the taste of him, the feeling of him hitting the back of her throat⁠—

But even as arousal flooded through her, her brain kept interjecting with reality. This was porn. This wasn't what real blowjobs looked like. These women were professionals who'd trained their gag reflexes, who knew exactly what angles worked for the camera, who probably did multiple takes. Jacob wasn't going to grab her hair and fuck her face like that—at least not the first time, probably not ever unless she asked him to.

Still. The fantasy was hot.

Ellie pushed her underwear aside, fingers finding her bare clit, slick with arousal. She rubbed tight circles, her hips rolling up to meet her own touch. On screen, the guy pulled out of the woman's mouth, stroked himself twice, and came across her face—thick ropes of white hitting her cheeks, her nose, her open mouth. The woman licked her lips, swallowed, looked at the camera with glazed eyes.

"Fuck," Ellie breathed, her fingers moving frantically now. "Oh fuck⁠—"

Her orgasm hit suddenly, pleasure crashing through her in waves. She bit her lip to keep from crying out, her thighs clamping around her hand, her whole body tensing and releasing. "Mmm—ahh⁠—"

She came down slowly, breathing hard, her laptop still playing porn that she wasn't watching anymore. Ellie closed the browser, set the laptop aside, and lay in the darkness thinking about the disconnect between what she'd just watched and what actually doing it would be like.

Those videos were fantasy. Performance. But somewhere between the clinical tutorials and the hardcore porn existed something real, something she and Jacob could actually do.

She needed to find that middle ground.

Wednesday, 10:15 PM

Ellie had spent the day reading forums, looking for real accounts from real women about their first blowjob experiences. The stories were more helpful than videos—honest about the awkwardness, the jaw ache, the uncertainty about whether you were doing it right, but also about the intimacy of it, the power of making your partner fall apart.

Now she was back to videos, but searching more specifically. "Sensual blowjob," "slow blowjob," "passionate oral." Less of the aggressive face fucking, more of the intimacy she thought she could actually replicate.

She found a video that felt right—softer lighting, a couple that seemed actually into each other rather than performing for the camera. The woman took her time, kissing along his shaft, licking from base to tip, maintaining eye contact. When she took him in her mouth, it was slow and deliberate, her hand working what didn't fit, her other hand cupping his balls gently.

The guy moaned—genuinely, not performatively—and his hand went to her hair, not grabbing or controlling, just touching.

That. That's more realistic. That's something I could actually do.

Ellie's hand slipped into her underwear, finding herself already wet from just watching. She'd masturbated so much this week her clit was almost sore, but she couldn't stop thinking about it, couldn't stop imagining herself in these women's positions.

She rubbed slow circles, matching the pace of the video, where the woman was now taking the guy deeper, her cheeks hollowing as she sucked. The wet sounds were still there but less exaggerated, more like what Ellie imagined real oral sex sounded like.

When the guy came—warning first, the woman pulling back slightly so he came in her mouth rather than down her throat—Ellie watched her swallow, saw the slight grimace followed by satisfaction. Real. Human. Not the porn-star performance of earlier videos.

Ellie's fingers moved faster, her other hand squeezing her breast through her sleep shirt. She imagined Jacob's cock in her mouth, imagined the taste of him, the weight of him, the way he'd probably apologize if he came too fast or warn her before he did because that's just who Jacob was⁠—

"Oh god," she whimpered, her hips grinding against her hand. "Mmm—fuck⁠—"

The orgasm rolled through her, gentler than last night's but satisfying, leaving her warm and boneless. She closed the laptop, wiped her hand on her sheet, and stared at the ceiling.

A week. She'd give herself a week to research, to watch, to get comfortable with the idea. And then next time she saw Jacob, she'd suggest it for real.

Thursday, 11:52 PM

The academic in Ellie couldn't help herself—she'd actually made notes. They lived in her journal, hidden among grocery lists and class reading assignments, but they were there:

Start slow, build up Use hands + mouth together Suction but not too much? Watch the teeth Breathe through nose Don't force deep throating first time Ask what feels good

She'd watched probably thirty videos at this point, ranging from tutorials to amateur porn to professional scenes, and she was starting to get a sense of what techniques appeared across all of them versus what was just porn theatrics.

Tonight's video featured a woman who seemed genuinely into it, moaning around the cock in her mouth like giving pleasure was giving her pleasure. That was the part Ellie connected with most—the idea that this wasn't just service, but something mutual, something that could be hot for both people.

Her hand was already between her legs before the video was halfway done, and she was trying something new tonight—a vibrator her roommate had left in their shared bathroom, obviously forgotten in the Thanksgiving rush to leave town. Ellie had grabbed it this afternoon, feeling only slightly guilty, and now it buzzed against her clit, set to low.

On screen, the woman took the guy deep—not pornstar deep, just deeper than she'd been going—and gagged slightly. Instead of being humiliating, it seemed to turn both of them on, the guy groaning, the woman laughing around his cock before trying again.

Gagging isn't the end of the world. It's just a thing that happens. Roll with it.

Ellie increased the vibrator's speed, her free hand shoving her shirt up so she could play with her nipples. The sensations combined, pleasure building faster with the toy than with just her fingers. She imagined being on her knees between Jacob's legs, imagined looking up at him while she took him in her mouth, imagined the sounds he'd make⁠—

The orgasm built and built, her hips grinding against the vibrator. "Ahh—oh fuck—mmm—" She came hard, her pussy clenching around nothing, wishing something was inside her but the toy was occupied and her fingers were cramping from holding it in place.

She clicked the vibrator off, cleaned it in the bathroom sink, and put it back where she'd found it. Back in bed, laptop closed, she felt the familiar post-orgasm clarity: she wanted to do this. She was ready to do this. The mechanics no longer seemed as mysterious or terrifying.

Now she just needed to work up the courage to actually initiate it.

Saturday, 2:34 AM

Ellie couldn't sleep.

She'd spent the evening at a friend's Friendsgiving, drinking cheap wine and eating too much pie, and had come home wired despite the late hour. She'd texted Jacob earlier—he was at his parents' place in Olympia for the holiday—and they'd had one of their meandering conversations about nothing and everything.

Now she was in bed, wide awake, laptop open, falling back into the familiar pattern of the week: video, masturbation, mental notes, repeat.

Tonight's selection was amateur—a phone camera propped on a nightstand, shaky footage of a real couple in their own bedroom. The woman was nervous, you could tell from the way she kept laughing and asking "like this?" and the guy was patient, clearly into her despite her inexperience.

That's going to be me and Jacob. Nervous and laughing and figuring it out together.

The realization made Ellie smile even as her hand moved between her legs, even as arousal built watching the woman finally get a rhythm going, the guy's encouraging words barely audible over the phone's microphone.

When the guy came—pulling out at the last second to come on the woman's chest, both of them laughing and breathless—Ellie felt a surge of affection for these strangers who'd posted this intimate moment online. That was real. That was what sex between two people who cared about each other looked like.

She came quickly, fingers working her clit with practiced efficiency, her orgasm quiet and sweet. No theatrics, just pleasure moving through her body and leaving her relaxed.

She closed the laptop, set it aside, and finally felt sleep pulling at her. One more day, and then Jacob would be back in Seattle. One more day to psych herself up.

She was ready. Or at least, ready enough.

Sunday, 10:17 PM

Her roommate returned that evening, crashing through the door with suitcases and complaints about family drama, and Ellie's private research week came to an abrupt end. She helped unpack, listened to stories about Thanksgiving disasters, and eventually retreated to her room with the excuse of homework.

She opened her laptop one last time, but instead of videos, she pulled up her messages with Jacob.

Hey, you back tomorrow?

His reply came within seconds: Yeah, bus gets in around 7. Want to hang out?

Ellie's stomach flipped with nervous anticipation. Your place? We could order food, watch something.

Sounds perfect. Miss you.

Miss you too.

She closed her laptop, lay back on her bed, and took inventory of what she'd learned this week. The mechanics of a blowjob weren't that complicated—mouths and hands and communication. The psychology of it was more complex—the vulnerability of it, the power exchange, the trust required to let someone have your most sensitive parts in their mouth, teeth right there, capable of damage even if damage wasn't the intent.

But she trusted Jacob. And he trusted her. And they'd figure it out together, just like everything else.

Ellie rolled onto her side, hugging her pillow, imagining tomorrow night. The anticipation was almost as good as the act itself—that delicious tension of knowing something was coming, something new, something that would change things between them in small but significant ways.

She fell asleep thinking about his hands in her hair, his voice rough with pleasure, the taste of him on her tongue. Tomorrow. Tomorrow she'd find out if reality matched the fantasy she'd been building all week.

Tomorrow she'd take him in her mouth and make him fall apart, and they'd add another piece to the puzzle they were building together—this messy, awkward, beautiful thing called intimacy.

The Chinese takeout containers sat half-empty on the coffee table, some Netflix show playing unwatched in the background. Ellie had been distracted all evening, barely tasting her lo mein, responding to Jacob's stories about Thanksgiving with his parents in monosyllables. Her stomach churned with nervous energy that had nothing to do with MSG.

Jacob noticed, of course. He always noticed when she got quiet.

"You okay?" He touched her knee, gentle. "You've been weird since I got here."

Ellie set down her chopsticks, turned to face him on the couch. "I'm fine. Just thinking about something."

"Good thinking or bad thinking?"

"Good. I think." She tucked her hair behind her ear, a nervous gesture. "Remember how you went down on me last time?"

Jacob's cheeks flushed pink. "Yeah. I remember."

"I want to return the favor." The words came out in a rush, before she could lose her nerve. "If you want. I've been thinking about it all week and I want to try."

Oh fuck, she wants to—yes, yes obviously yes, but also terrifying because what if I come too fast again or what if she doesn't like it or⁠—

"You don't have to," Jacob said, even though his body was already responding to the suggestion, blood rushing south. "Like, I don't expect⁠—"

"I know I don't have to. I want to." Ellie kissed him, tasting soy sauce and his mint chapstick. "Bedroom?"

They moved down the hallway, hands finding each other's bodies, kisses becoming deeper. By the time they reached his room, Ellie's heart hammered against her ribs. All that research felt suddenly inadequate—watching videos wasn't the same as actually doing it, actually having someone's cock in your mouth, actually being responsible for their pleasure.

Jacob sat on the edge of the bed, and Ellie knelt on the floor between his legs, the carpet rough against her knees. The position felt significant, intimate in a way that made her breath catch. She was really doing this.

Her hands went to his belt, working the buckle open with fingers that trembled slightly. Button, zipper, and then she was pulling his jeans down his hips. Jacob lifted up to help, and his jeans hit the floor along with his boxer briefs.

His cock stood at attention, flushed and hard, a bead of precome already forming at the tip. Ellie stared at it—she'd touched it before, had it inside her, but this was different. This close, she could see every detail: the prominent vein running along the underside, the way the head was slightly darker than the shaft, the neat trim of hair at the base.

"You really don't have to," Jacob said again, his voice strained. "If you're having second thoughts⁠—"

"I'm not." Ellie wrapped her hand around him, feeling the heat of him, the hardness. "Just... tell me if something doesn't feel good, okay?"

"I doubt anything won't feel good," Jacob said, then groaned as she gave an experimental stroke.

Ellie leaned forward, pressed a kiss to the tip. The precome smeared against her lips, salty and bitter and distinctly him. She licked it away, then licked down his shaft, following what she'd seen in the videos, getting him wet with her saliva.

Jacob's hand went to her hair, not pushing, just resting there. "Fuck, Ellie⁠—"

She took him in her mouth.

The reality of it hit immediately—the weight of his cock on her tongue, the stretch of her lips around his girth, the way she had to consciously remember to breathe through her nose. It was overwhelming, too much sensation at once, and she'd barely taken half of him.

Okay, okay, you watched like thirty videos, you know what to do, just—breathe, hollow your cheeks, use your hand on what doesn't fit⁠—

Ellie pulled back, took him in again, establishing a rhythm. Her hand wrapped around the base, stroking in time with her mouth. She tried to remember everything she'd learned—suction, movement, no teeth—but coordinating it all was harder than the videos made it look.

"God, that's good," Jacob breathed above her, his fingers tightening in her hair. "Your mouth is so—fuck⁠—"

The praise sent a spark of satisfaction through her. She was doing this right, or at least right enough. Ellie tried taking him deeper, felt him hit the back of her throat, and gagged slightly. She pulled back, coughing, her eyes watering.

"You okay?" Jacob asked immediately.

"Yeah, just—went too deep." Ellie wiped her mouth, tried again, keeping him shallower this time.

She found a rhythm that worked—mouth and hand together, bobbing up and down, occasionally swirling her tongue around the head the way one video had demonstrated. Jacob's breathing got heavier, his hips starting to move involuntarily, small thrusts that pushed him slightly deeper into her mouth.

Her jaw was already aching. How did women in porn do this for fifteen minutes straight? Ellie compensated by using her hand more, jacking him while she focused her mouth on the sensitive head, licking and sucking while her fist pumped his shaft.

"Ellie—" Jacob's voice sounded strained, desperate. "That's—fuck, that's really good⁠—"

She tried something she'd seen in multiple videos, humming around him, and Jacob's whole body jerked. "Oh shit, do that again⁠—"

She hummed again, felt the vibration travel through him. His hand in her hair tightened, his breathing going ragged. Ellie recognized the signs from when they had sex—he was getting close.

In the videos, this was always the decision point. Pull off, use your hand to finish him. Let him come on your face, your chest. Or swallow.

Ellie made her decision, kept her mouth on him. She wanted to know what it was like, wanted the full experience, wanted to taste him.

"I'm gonna—" Jacob's warning came out choked. "Ellie, I'm close, if you don't want⁠—"

She didn't pull off. Kept sucking, kept moving, doubling down on her efforts. Jacob groaned—a deep, guttural sound—and his cock pulsed against her tongue.

Then he was coming.

The first spurt hit the back of her throat with more force than she'd expected, hot and thick, and Ellie's gag reflex triggered immediately. She tried to swallow like the women in the videos, but there was so much, another spurt and another, filling her mouth faster than she could process.

She choked, pulling back reflexively, and Jacob's cock slipped from her lips still coming. The next spurt hit her face—across her cheek, her nose. She tried to close her mouth but wasn't fast enough, and more landed on her lips, her chin. His cock pulsed again, and cum hit her chest, soaking through her shirt.

"Fuck, sorry, I—" Jacob's hands flew to her face but there was nothing he could do, he was still coming, his cock twitching, another spurt hitting her collarbone.

Ellie coughed, cum dripping from her nose—it had actually gone up her nose somehow, burning and uncomfortable. Her eyes watered, mascara probably running, and she could taste him in her mouth, feel him on her face, in her hair. She tried to breathe and inhaled some, coughed harder, her whole body convulsing.

"Oh god, are you okay?" Jacob was already reaching for the tissues on his nightstand, pulling out a handful. "Fuck, Ellie, I'm so sorry⁠—"

"I'm fine," Ellie managed between coughs, taking the tissues and wiping her face. Cum strung from her nose to her hand as she cleaned it away, and the sight was so absurd she started laughing. "Oh my god."

"That was—I'm so sorry—" Jacob looked mortified, his softening cock still glistening with cum and saliva. "You should've pulled off, I would've warned you better if I knew you were going to⁠—"

"It's okay." Ellie wiped her chin, her chest, realizing her shirt was basically ruined. "I wanted to try. I just—Jesus, that was a lot. And the force⁠—"

"I should've warned you better." Jacob helped her clean up, dabbing at her shirt with more tissues. "That was—that was a disaster, I'm sorry."

Ellie pulled her shirt off, giving up on saving it. She sat there on his floor, topless and covered in drying cum, tissues scattered around her, and looked up at Jacob's horrified face. "Can I tell you something?"

"What?"

"That was really fucking hot."

Wait, what? She—she thinks that was hot? After I basically came all over her face and she choked and⁠—

"Hot?" Jacob repeated, disbelieving.

"Yeah." Ellie stood up, came to sit beside him on the bed. "I mean, it was also a disaster and super messy and I definitely wasn't prepared for how much there was, but—" She kissed him, letting him taste himself on her tongue. "It was hot. Seeing you lose control like that, knowing I did that to you."

Jacob stared at her like she'd grown a second head. "You're insane."

"Maybe." She grinned, reaching for more tissues to clean her chest properly. "But you can't deny it was memorable. Our first blowjob story is going to be hilarious."

"I came in your nose," Jacob said flatly. "And on your tits. And in your hair. That's not hilarious, that's horrifying."

"It's both." Ellie finished cleaning herself up, found one of Jacob's t-shirts in his drawer and pulled it on. "Though next time maybe warn me earlier? So I can at least close my mouth when you pull out?"

"Next time?" Jacob's eyebrows rose. "You want to do that again after—" He gestured vaguely at the crime scene of tissues scattered across his floor.

"Well, yeah. I mean, I clearly need practice." Ellie crawled onto the bed properly, pulling him down beside her. "The actual blowjob part before the ending was good, right? Like, it felt good?"

"Are you kidding? It felt amazing." Jacob's hand found hers, threading their fingers together. "You were amazing. I just—the ending was my fault. I should've been clearer about when to pull off."

"Or I should've been better at swallowing."

"Ellie, no one's good at swallowing their first time. That's like—that's expert level shit."

She turned to face him, propping her head on her hand. "How do you know? Have you given many blowjobs?"

"No, but I've watched—" Jacob stopped, his cheeks flushing darker. "I mean, I've done research."

"Oh my god, you watched porn too?" Ellie started laughing, genuine amusement bubbling up. "We're such nerds. We both watched instructional blowjob videos."

"It seemed responsible," Jacob defended, but he was grinning now too. "Like, you wouldn't try to bake a cake without looking up a recipe first."

"Except my first cake exploded all over the kitchen and went up my nose."

"That metaphor is getting disturbing."

They lay there laughing, the awkwardness of the situation dissolving into something easier, more comfortable. Ellie's jaw still ached, and she could still taste him in her mouth—salty and bitter and not entirely pleasant but not terrible either. Her throat felt slightly raw from coughing, and she'd definitely need to wash her hair before bed.

But Jacob was looking at her like she'd hung the moon, like she was precious despite being a disaster, and that made the whole messy experience worth it.

"Next time I'll pull out," Jacob said eventually. "Or at least give you better warning."

"Or I'll get better at swallowing." Ellie kissed his jaw. "We'll figure it out. That's what we do."

We figure it out together, through all the awkward messy parts, and it keeps getting better, and I love him, I really do love him⁠—

"I love you," she said, because why not say it when it was true. "Even when you come in my nose."

"I love you too." Jacob pulled her closer, his hand stroking up and down her spine. "Even when you insist on trying to swallow when you're clearly not ready for it."

"Hey, I was ready. I just underestimated the volume."

"The volume," Jacob repeated, laughing. "Jesus Christ, we're talking about it like it's a fucking science experiment."

"Everything's a science experiment when you're learning." Ellie yawned, suddenly exhausted. "Can I sleep here tonight? I don't want to go home and explain to my roommate why my hair smells like cum."

"Obviously you can stay." Jacob kissed her forehead. "Though you should probably shower first. There's some in your eyebrow."

Ellie reached up, felt the dried cum, and dissolved into giggles. "This is the least sexy post-blowjob conversation ever."

"This is the realest post-blowjob conversation ever," Jacob corrected. "And that's better."

They eventually got up, Ellie showering while Jacob changed his sheets—there were tissues and bodily fluids everywhere—and when she emerged clean and wrapped in his towel, he was remaking the bed with fresh navy sheets.

"Better?" he asked.

"Much."

She borrowed more of his clothes—boxer briefs and a Modest Mouse shirt—and they climbed into bed together, bodies fitting the way they'd learned to fit over months of sleeping side by side. Outside, rain started up again, Seattle's eternal soundtrack, and Ellie felt herself drifting toward sleep.

"Hey Ellie?" Jacob's voice came quiet in the darkness.

"Mmm?"

"Thanks for trying. Even though it was a disaster."

"It wasn't a disaster. It was a learning experience." She pressed her face into his neck. "And next time will be better. We'll get good at this. All of it."

"Yeah," Jacob agreed, his arms tightening around her. "We will."

They fell asleep tangled together, both of them already thinking about next time, about practice and improvement and slowly building expertise in the language of each other's bodies. Outside, the rain continued, and inside, two people kept learning what it meant to be intimate—messiness and all.

Ellie had been thinking about it all week.

Not obsessively—she had finals to study for, a paper due on Thursday, work shifts at the campus library that drained her brain. But in the quiet moments between obligations, her mind kept drifting back to last Sunday night, to the spectacular disaster of her first blowjob attempt, to the taste and texture and sheer overwhelming volume of Jacob coming in her mouth.

She'd watched maybe three more videos since then. Not thirty like before, just enough to remind herself of technique, to see how other women handled the finale without choking or getting cum up their nose. The key seemed to be preparation—knowing it was coming, positioning correctly, having somewhere for it to go.

Now she sat on Jacob's couch, his arm around her shoulders, some action movie playing that neither of them cared about. His roommate was out—seemed like his roommate was always conveniently out lately, and Ellie suspected Jacob was paying him to make himself scarce.

"You're doing it again," Jacob said, his fingers tracing patterns on her shoulder through her sweater.

"Doing what?"

"That thing where you're thinking really hard about something but not saying it." He looked down at her, concern evident in his hazel eyes. "What's going on?"

Ellie bit her lip, decided on honesty. "I want to try again."

"Try what—oh." Understanding dawned on his face, followed immediately by apprehension. "Ellie, you don't have to. Last time was⁠—"

"Last time I wasn't prepared," she interrupted. "I didn't know what to expect. Now I do." She turned to face him properly, tucking one leg under her. "I want to get good at it. And you don't get good at things without practice."

She wants to try again, after last time was such a disaster, and fuck I want her mouth on me again but also I don't want to traumatize her⁠—

"What if it's another disaster?" Jacob asked, his hand finding hers, fingers intertwining.

"Then it's another disaster and we laugh about it." Ellie squeezed his hand. "But I've been thinking about it, about what went wrong. I think I can do better."

"You were already doing great until the ending."

"The ending is kind of the important part though." She stood, pulling him up with her. "Come on. Bedroom. Let me try."

They walked down the familiar hallway, hands linked, and Ellie felt nervous anticipation thrumming through her veins but not the same terror as last time. She knew what was coming now. The mystery was gone, replaced with determination.

In his room, Jacob pulled her close, kissing her slowly. His hands found the hem of her sweater, worked it up and off. Her bra followed—the reliable black one from Target—and then his mouth was on her breasts, sucking her nipple between his lips.

"Mmm," Ellie breathed, her fingers threading through his hair. This part they were good at now, the kissing and touching that preceded everything else. Her body responded immediately, heat pooling between her legs, her nipples hardening under his attention.

She pushed his shirt up, and he broke away long enough to pull it over his head. His chest was pale in the amber glow of string lights, that constellation of moles on his left shoulder that she'd memorized. Ellie ran her hands over his skin, feeling the slight definition of muscles, the warmth of him.

They moved to the bed, shedding the rest of their clothes until they were both naked. Ellie lay back against the pillows, and Jacob settled between her legs, kissing down her body—her throat, between her breasts, her stomach. His fingers slid through her wetness, finding her already slick.

"God, you're so wet," he murmured, two fingers slipping inside her easily, pumping slowly.

Ellie's hips rolled up to meet his hand, chasing the sensation. His thumb found her clit, rubbing circles that made her breathing go shallow. She was already close—she'd been thinking about this all week, been half-aroused since she'd decided to come over tonight.

Jacob pulled his fingers free, reached for a condom from the nightstand. Ellie watched him roll it on, the motion becoming more practiced each time. He positioned himself between her thighs, the head of his cock pressing against her entrance.

"Ready?" he asked, always checking, always making sure.

"Yeah. Please."

He pushed inside in one smooth motion, both of them groaning at the sensation. Ellie would never get tired of this—the initial stretch, the fullness, the way her body accommodated him after a moment of resistance. Jacob held still, letting her adjust, then started moving with slow, deep strokes.

"Harder," Ellie said after a minute, wanting more. "You can go harder."

Jacob increased his pace, his hips snapping forward with more force. The angle was good, hitting something inside her that made pleasure spark up her spine, but not quite right. Ellie tried adjusting, tilting her pelvis different ways, but couldn't quite get⁠—

"Wait," she said, putting a hand on his chest. "Can I—let me try something."

She pulled her knees up higher, almost to her chest, changing the angle completely. When Jacob thrust again, the sensation was entirely different—deeper, more intense, almost too much but not quite.

"Oh fuck," Ellie gasped, her eyes widening. "There. Like that. God, that's so deep⁠—"

She just figured out a new angle on her own and she looks surprised and turned on and—Jesus she feels incredible like this⁠—

Jacob braced his hands on either side of her head, fucking into her with steady strokes. This position had him hitting somewhere new, somewhere that made Ellie's breath catch with each thrust. Her hand moved between them without thinking, fingers finding her clit, rubbing because she needed the extra stimulation.

"That's—fuck, Jacob, you're so deep like this—" Ellie's voice came out breathy, strained. She could feel him in ways she hadn't before, the pressure different, more intense. Her fingers worked her clit faster, pleasure building rapidly.

"You feel amazing," Jacob groaned, his pace becoming less controlled. "So tight, I'm not gonna—fuck, I'm not gonna last⁠—"

"It's okay," Ellie managed, her own orgasm approaching fast. "Just—don't stop⁠—"