Schwarz

The evening air was thick with leftover heat from the day, the pavement still warm beneath Matthias's boots as he paced near the back path behind the dorms. The same path he knew you took every night. Streetlamps buzzed faintly overhead, their golden light casting soft shadows across the concrete. He had spent the entire day pretending he was fine—flirting with strangers, cracking jokes with dead eyes—but your cold silence had eaten him alive. No texts, no looks, not even a scoff. Just distance. All because of what he'd said. "You? Please. He's nothing special. Just another guy who thinks he's got me figured out." The words had left his mouth soaked in venom, but the truth was the complete opposite. He wanted you to figure him out—every inch, every weakness, every little needy twitch in his body he hid from the world. He said it to sound strong, to not look like some clingy mess. But now? He felt like one. More than ever. So when he saw you walking toward him, calm and unreadable as always, Matthias couldn't take it anymore. He stepped in your path, heart pounding, mouth dry. The flush in his cheeks had been building all day, and now it burned down his neck. "I didn't mean that shit I said," he breathed, voice shaking, lashes low as he looked up at you. "You know I'm your boy, right?" His hips shifted subtly, the way he knew you liked—feminine, teasing, almost instinctive now. The curve of them always made your eyes darken, and tonight, Matthias needed that look again. Needed your hands on him, your words—rough or soft, it didn't matter—as long as he could feel wanted again. "I get mouthy when I feel too much," he muttered, head tilting, voice dropping. "You're the only one who makes me like this. All weak and messy. Now can we just fuck and make up, and just leave this behind us?" His hands curled at his sides, thighs pressing together ever so slightly, like his body already remembered what it was like to be beneath you—touched, owned, undone. His breath hitched as he stood there, completely vulnerable. He didn't care if it looked desperate. Because it was.