I dangle the keys in front of Christina.

“Told you I could get them.”

We’re standing in the deserted hallway of one of the campus buildings. Exam season will be wrapping up in two days, and since both Christina and I are finished with ours, we’re spending today getting in some last minute photos for the showcase.

“How did you do that? We’re not supposed to be able to use the studios when regular classes aren’t going on.”

I shrug. “I’m Aaron Penn.”

She rolls her eyes and snatches the keys from my hand, striding away from me towards the studio door.

“You going to wear the black bra today? I think the black bra is my favourite.”

“Don’t think that just because I drunkenly made out with you once, you get to have preferences about my underwear.”

It’s been over a week since Jenga night, and Christina’s been trying to pass off what happened between us as a whiskey-fueled mishap. I know neither of us were all that drunk when we kissed, and while the alcohol may have given us the courage to do it, it wasn’t the reason why. I’ve been going along with her explanation though, because if she won’t acknowledge the tension that still wraps itself around us whenever we’re together, then I don’t have to either.

She unlocks the door and we walk into the studio. Even though I’ve seen it already, the room still fills me with a rush of excitement, my fingers itching to get a hold of my camera and capture the glow of the early evening light. The entire space is like a theme park for photographers; the sun seems to seep into every texture and turn whatever it touches into some kind of jewel. I’m pretty sure even a picture of a dust bunny would look fascinating.

But I’m not wasting my time on that when I’ve got Christina to work with. The light catches on the strands of her hair and plays across her skin like its flirting with her. She gave up on wanting to re-do the ads with a model after seeing the reaction we got from our marketing class, so today we’re just doing simple close-ups to show off the products themselves. Looking at her now, though, I doubt I’m going to be able to keep the shots simple.

Everything about her begs to be turned into art. She’s the perfect mix of contradiction, hard as steel but warm like liquid gold. Every move she makes is both chaos and control. I want to stay in this room for as long as it takes to find the right angle, the right pose, the right second to snap my shutter closed and show the world what I see when I look at her.

Her voice jolts me out of my daze.

“Let’s save the gawking for when you’re behind a camera, alright Penn?”

She’s giving me a curious look and I realize I must have been staring for longer than I meant to. I shake my head and start getting my camera set up.

“I’m just wondering why you aren’t in your underwear yet, Peaches.”

She scoffs and moves to a corner of the room. “I’m changing over here, so don’t turn around.”

I only brought one lens today, so after taking the camera out of the bag and slinging the strap over my neck, I point it towards the white couch and take some test shots. I try to focus on getting the exposure right, but all I can think about is the fact that Christina is currently naked behind me.

This was easier last time, when I didn’t know what she sounded like when she moaned, or what it felt like to have her mouth on mine. Now I don’t know if I’m going to be able to hide how much I want her.

“On the couch?” she asks, walking up next to me.

“Yeah.” I don’t turn around. I keep the camera in front of my eye and watch through the lens as she takes a seat.

She’s wearing the black set of lingerie, the one with all the cut-outs and straps, paired with the same thigh high stockings. Without the headphones and blouse overtop, the outfit makes her look like some kind of sex goddess, all bold stares and inviting smiles. I want to capture her like that.

“Now get on your hands and knees.”

She gives me a doubtful look. “Aren’t we just taking pictures of the bra?”

“Do it.”

I didn’t mean to sound harsh; I didn’t mean to say it all, but it comes out like an order. I see her draw in a breath and I wait for her to tell me to fuck off.

For a moment, she just stares straight into the camera. I see her chest start to rise and fall as her breathing gets faster. The air feels charged, ready to shock whichever of us decides to move first, and I know what this is: it’s a challenge. She wants this as bad as I do, but she’s waiting for me to make it worth her while.

“Come on Peaches, I’m waiting. We don’t have all day.”

Her eyes narrow, and again I expect her to put a stop to this, but then she folds her legs up under her and shifts sideways onto her knees, leaning forwards to bring her hands down onto the couch. I circle behind her, and the view of her ass held up like that, covered in nothing but a bit of black fabric and lace, would make it impossible not to touch her if I didn’t have the camera in front of me.

As it is, I just see the shot. Every line of her body speaks of sensuality, betrays a hundred possibilities, and I want to capture every single one of them in this photo. I want to own them.

I snap the shutter closed.

She shivers.

I cross to the other side of the couch, facing her, and crouch down to eye level.

“Look at the camera.”

I focus on her eyes. They’re wild, like an animal caught between the impulse to take flight or stay and fight.

“Open your mouth.”

I stretch my hand out to run my thumb along her lips, and then part them, tugging downwards. When my skin grazes her teeth she lets out a moan so quiet it almost dies in her throat.

The sound undoes me. I let the camera drop and feel it thud against my chest. I’m staring into her eyes without any barriers between us and she’s beautiful and terrifying, everything I want and everything I told myself I’d never want again.

Slowly, without looking away from me, she straightens up onto her knees. I watch as she trails a hand along her thigh, over her hip and the black lace that stretches across it, up her taunt stomach and between her breasts. I want to follow that path with my tongue.

I know the wrong words could shatter this moment, so I don’t say anything; I just lift the camera off me before bracing my palms on the arm of the couch and bending forwards to bring my lips to the band of her stocking.

When I start to trail them higher and meet with her bare thigh, she draws in a sharp breath and knots one of her hands in my hair. I keep moving up her leg, just grazing her body, and lift myself up when I reach the bottom of her stomach. We’re face to face now, but I focus my gaze on her shoulder, reaching out to hook a finger around the strap of her bra and tug it to the side. I lean forwards and press my mouth to the skin it was covering, letting one of my hands come to rest on her waist.

She lets me keep moving up towards her neck for a moment, and then I feel her hand press against my chest, pushing me away. I let go of her and she settles back onto the couch, laying herself out in front of me. Her eyes drift to my camera on the floor and then back up to me. She spreads her legs.

My already rapid heartbeat skyrockets at the thought of what she’s asking for. I pick up the camera and crouch down in front of her again.

“Wider,” I command, watching through the lens. “I need your legs spread wider.”

She does as I ask, drawing her knees up higher and giving me the view I want.

“Put one hand on your stomach. Good. Now put your other hand between your legs.”

She trails her fingers along the inside of her thigh but stops just short of where I need them.

“Aaron, I—”

“Tease yourself.” I almost growl the words.

She hesitates, and then starts to trace up and down the fabric that barely keeps her covered from me. She goes slow at first, like she’s embarrassed. I snap a photo and see her tremble at the sound. Her hand picks up speed, the muscles in her legs tensing and flexing as she works her fingers in a tight circle.

I move to the front of the couch so I can see her from the side. Her chin tilts towards me, but her eyes are closed, mouth hanging slack with desire.

“Please,” she murmurs. “I need—”

I don’t let her finish. “Arch your back. That’s it. Don’t move your hand. Now look at the camera.”

I click the shutter the second her eyes flutter open, and I know I’ve captured everything: the dazed lust, the grasping need, and the flicker of doubt that all cross her expression as she looks at me.

“Aaron, you have to touch me. I need you to touch me.”

Christina. Christina begging for me to touch her.

I set the camera down and then I’m on my knees in front of the couch, leaning over her to press a kiss against her mouth. I feel her arms circle up to wrap around me, but I pull away and grab her wrist, hard.

“Don’t move your hand yet.”

When I let go she goes back to touching herself. I lay a hand on her ribs and bring my mouth to her collarbone, then the hollow of her throat, then down to the cut-out in her bra that leaves the top of her breast exposed. She arches underneath me.

“Good girl,” I murmur against her. “Keep playing with yourself.”

I’m wrapped up in her, lost in the curves stretched out in front of me. I’ve been bent on driving Christina crazy since I met her, but this is the first time I’m doing it to make her want me, not make her want to get away from me.

I circle her nipple with my tongue.

“On top of me,” she cries, not even able to form a full sentence. “You. On top of me.”

I don’t need any more encouragement. Leaning back, I pull my shirt over my head and lower myself onto the couch between her still parted legs. She wraps them around my back, her hands pulling my face to hers and drawing me into a deep and furious kiss.

“God, Aaron,” she gasps in the moments when our lips break apart. “I need you to fuck me.”

Her hands slip down between us, searching for my belt. I suck in a breath and prop myself up on my forearms, giving her more space. She gets the belt undone and slides the zipper of my jeans down, and then she’s wrapping her hand around my cock.

Her eyes find mine and I see fire in them, see popping sparks and roaring flames hot enough to burn me alive, but as I stare into them their liquid brown turns to piercing green and it’s Tiff I’m looking at, Tiff who’s underneath me, begging me to let our bodies melt into one.

Instant boner killer.

“Oh,” says Christina, shifting beneath me and looking away. “Um...did I—”

“No, no, it’s not you, it’s just...”

I lift myself off of her and sit up on the couch, running a hand over my face and shaking my head, trying to make the picture inside it go away. Christina sits up and stays quiet beside me.

“It’s just been awhile,” I say finally.

I turn towards her and try to give a confident smile. She takes it as a sign to start joking again.

“What’s awhile for you? Like, three days?”

I shrug, trying to play it casual when I know this is anything but. “Just over a year, actually.”

Her eyes go wide and she rushes to apologize. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t— Uh, we don’t, you know, have to...I just thought—”

Great. Now not only am I sitting here with a flaccid dick, but the girl I just had begging for me to fuck her now thinks she was forcing me into sex I didn’t want.

I place a hand on her leg. “I want you. I want this. It’s not this huge deal or anything. I just haven’t, for awhile, and I...need a minute.”

I don’t think I’ve ever felt so emasculated in my life. I wouldn’t blame her for running out of the room. Finding out you’re the first person someone’s slept with in over a year after they failed to get it up for you kind of takes the fun, sexy vibe out of sexy fun time.

She stays next to me, my hand still resting on her leg, and neither of us speaks. The awkwardness is palpable. A few moments pass before I feel one of her fingers brush over my shoulder, the one with my tattoo.

“What is this?” she asks.

I glance over at the inked design. “It’s a shutter. On a camera, you know, the part that clicks closed to capture the light.”

“I know what a shutter is.”

The familiar irritation in her voice eases the tension just a little.

“How long have you been doing photography?” she asks.

“Since I was a teenager. It’s what I originally studied after high school.”

She nods. “So why a shutter? Why not some other camera thing? Or did you just think it looked cool?”

“I mean, kind of. You have to admit, it does look pretty badass.” She snorts at that and I continue. “I think what I like most about photography is the ability to capture...moments, details, honesty. What’s there one second might be hidden in the next, and you have to know just when to snap the shutter closed if you want to catch it.”

“I didn’t think there was room for anything but ego in that head of yours, Penn, but you have some depth to you.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Oh yeah?”

“I mean, in the same way that, like...a puddle has depth. There’s not much, but it’s there.”

I squeeze her thigh hard enough to make her gasp. “You watch your mouth, Dominguez.”

Then, just like that, we’re on each other again, locked in a kiss as I pull her onto my lap. She moans and presses into me, every sound she makes going straight to my cock and getting me fully hard again in seconds. She feels it and grinds against me, driving us both into a frenzy.

I’ve wanted this woman so bad, pretty much since the day I met her, and I’m not going to fuck this up.

I shift to lay back on the couch, pulling her down on top of me. My hands cup her ass, digging hard into her skin, and when I slip a finger down to stroke between her legs she squeals against my mouth. She’s drenched, soaking right through the fabric of the lingerie.

She sits up and moves to undo her bra, but I stop her.

“No. I want to fuck you in this.”

She bites her lip and gives me a burning stare, then mutters, “One second,” before climbing off me and stepping towards her purse. She digs around a bit before coming back with a condom. I pull my jeans and boxers off while she does, and when she comes back her eyes devour the sight of my cock standing at attention for her.

After straddling me again, she rips the condom open and rolls it onto me. I suck in a breath at the feel of her touch and close my eyes. She starts to tease the tip of me, running my cock up and down the length of her entrance before letting me push just an inch inside.

When she leans forwards and presses me all the way in, a groan escapes me and my hands go straight to her hips, thrusting her downwards until she cries out as I push as deep as I can, filling her up. I keep hold of her, moving her body to the rhythm of my thrusts as I open my eyes.

She has her head thrown back, her tits bouncing with the movement of our bodies, the muscles of her stomach pulled tight. I watch my cock disappear inside her where she’s pulled the fabric of her panties to the side. She looks like some kind of fantasy. The sight of her nipples poking through the lace of the bra makes my grip tighten and I pull her down even harder with every thrust.

Her moans are uncontrollable now. I feel her starting to clench around me, hips bucking against mine. I bring my thumb to my mouth, wetting it before reaching to circle her clit. She almost screams at the contact and I’m about to fall apart inside her, but I fight to stay focused, keeping up a steady rhythm until she’s shaking and calling my name, tumbling over the edge.

I follow right after her, the whole room fading until all I’m aware of is the pulsing heat of her around my cock. She continues rocking into me even as I let out a sigh, dropping my hand from her hip and sinking into the post-orgasmic daze. She grabs onto the thumb that’s still rubbing her clit and presses down hard, thrusting against it and whimpering as her body continues to jerk for several seconds, her face twisted with ecstasy and then finally going slack.

Shuddering, she falls forwards onto my chest. I move my hand to the hollow of her lower back, feeling the rise and fall of her breathing. We’re both slick with sweat.

We stay lying that way until I’m sure she’s shivering from cold, not just the aftershocks. I rub my hands up and down her body to warm her up.

“That was either two orgasms or one really long one,” she says into my neck. Her voice sounds sleepy.

“Definitely two, Peaches. I am Aaron Penn, after all.”

She reaches up and pinches my ear so hard I yelp.

“Foda-se. You are such a caralho.”