Page 36 of Bound to the Dorm Elf
I move first, or maybe she does. It doesn’t matter. The space between us narrows until there’s nothing left to measure, and then her lips are on mine.
It’s tentative at first,careful. The kind of caution you take with an untested blade, knowing it could cut deep if you’re not careful. Her mouth is soft, warmer than I expect in the biting winter air. I brace a hand lightly against her jaw, the leather ofmy glove rough against her skin, angling her toward me like she’s something I mean to keep.
The kiss deepens— not because we’ve agreed to it, but because neither of us is willing to pull away. She tastes faintly of the tea she drank earlier, sweetened with something floral I can’t name, and underneath it, there’s the undeniable taste of her. Real. Present. Alive in a way that makes my chest tighten.
Her fingers curl into the front of my coat, holding fast like she’s afraid I’ll vanish if she lets go. My other hand finds the small of her back, drawing her closer until I can feel the steady thump of her heart against my chest.
It’s not a surrender.Not yet. But it’s a crack in the armor I’ve carried my whole life — and I think she knows it, because her sigh ghosts across my mouth like she’s felt something give way too.
The cold doesn’t touch me anymore. All I feel is the heat where we meet, the press of her, the way she leans into me like she’s decided, if only for now, that I’m not something to fear.
When we finally pull apart, it’s slow. Reluctant. Her eyes search mine as though she’s not entirely sure what just happened — or maybe she is, and that’s what’s unsettling her.
The air feels different now. Charged. As if the night itself is holding its breath, waiting to see what comes next.
Her lips are still slightly parted, her cheeks flushed from more than the cold. I let my thumb brush once over her cheekbone before I drop my hand entirely, forcing space back between us before I say something I can’t take back.
She swallows hard,her breath visible in the moonlight. “Well… that’s… not what I expected on a Tuesday night.”
A corner of my mouth lifts. “Your world has poor notions of how to spend its evenings, then.”
She laughs, but it’s shaky, and she looks away, staring at the glow of the campus lights in the distance. “Yeah… maybe.”
I don’t press.The spark’s been struck — we both know it. There’s no need to name it just yet.
The wind shifts, carrying with it the faint sound of distant voices, and I remember where we are. This is still her territory, still a place where others might stumble upon us. The thought of explaining this — explaining me — to anyone else doesn’t sit well.
“Come,” I say quietly, inclining my head toward the path back to her dorm. “It’s too exposed here.”
She hesitates, then falls into step beside me. Her hand brushes mine once, by accident or design I can’t tell, and I let it linger there for a breath before she tucks it into her jacket pocket.
Neither of us speaks the rest of the way back. We don’t have to. The air between us carries enough unspoken words to last until morning.
The hallwayto her dorm is narrow and smells faintly of the cleaning chemicals her world favors—sharp, sterile. I feel too large for it, my shoulders almost brushing the walls, my height forcing me to tilt my head under the low light fixtures. She unlocks the door, and the warmth inside greets us like a living thing.
Her space is small—bedpressed into the far corner, desk cluttered with books, a faintly humming mini-fridge. The scent here is entirely hers: vanilla from a candle she’s burned down tothe wick, the sweetness of her shampoo lingering in the air. I step inside, and she closes the door behind me.
“Rovax…”she starts, voice barely above a whisper. There’s a question in it, but not hesitation.
I don’t answerwith words. I take the two steps that close the distance between us, my hands cupping her face, my thumbs stroking the freckles dusting her cheeks. Her lips part, and I kiss her—no testing this time. Her mouth is warm, soft, tasting faintly of the tea she drank earlier. My runic tattoos heat faintly along my arms, responding to my pulse.
She gaspswhen my hands slide down, over her shoulders, tracing the curve of her waist before settling at her hips. “You’re so warm,” she murmurs against my lips.
“And you’re trembling,”I answer. “Is it the cold… or me?”
Her smile is small,almost shy. “You.”
The soundthat escapes me is low, from deep in my chest. I guide her backward until her legs hit the bed, then sit beside her, pulling her into my lap. My hands roam her back, feeling the curve of her spine through the fabric of her sweater. The contrast of her softness against the hardness of my body makes my cock throb, pressing against the inside of my pants.
She feels it,shifts slightly, and her eyes widen. “God…” she breathes.
“Say my name,”I tell her.
“Rovax,”she whispers, and I feel the sound of it all the way to my bones.
I pullher sweater over her head, revealing the pale skin of her shoulders, the lace of her bra. My fingers trace along her collarbone, down to the swell of her breasts. She shivers when my thumb brushes over her nipple through the lace. “I want to see you,” I murmur, and she reaches behind her to unclasp her bra. It falls away, and I take in the sight of her—curvy, freckled, beautiful.
I lean in,my mouth closing over her nipple, my tongue circling before I suck gently. She gasps, her hands tangling in my white hair. My runes glow faintly now, their light flickering across her skin.
