Nova Reyes sat cross-legged on Elara's bed at 11:47 p.m., the room lit only by the blue glow of her laptop and the amber string lights that now draped both sides of the room like a shared scar. Her calculus textbook lay open on the pillow, page 312 dog-eared, but the problems blurred. She had promised Elara help with derivatives tonight. Promised herself she would keep the promise. Yet every time she tried to focus, the memory of Elara's mouth on her throat two hours ago hijacked the numbers.
Elara sprawled on the floor, back against Nova's bedframe, camera in her lap like a sleeping animal. She scrolled through the contact sheet from yesterday's darkroom session: twenty-four frames of Nova laughing, Nova biting her lip, Nova arched on the sheets with fairy lights striping her ribs like prison bars. Elara's thumb hovered over the delete button on the last frame (the one where Nova had come so hard her eyes rolled back), then moved away. She never deleted the ones that hurt to look at.
Nova cleared her throat. "Question four. Chain rule. You ready?"
Elara rolled onto her stomach, chin propped on folded arms. "Born ready. Hit me."
Nova slid off the bed, settled beside her on the carpet. Their shoulders touched. Static. She angled the textbook so they could both see. "So f(x) equals sine of x squared. Find f prime."
Elara groaned. "Why do professors hate us?"
"Focus." Nova's finger traced the equation. Her nail was short, practical, painted a chipped navy from last week's impulse. She smelled like coconut leave-in conditioner and the faint metallic trace of the darkroom chemicals that clung to Elara's skin now. "Outside function is sine. Inside is x squared. Derivative of outside is cosine, leave the inside alone, then multiply by derivative of inside."
Elara repeated it under her breath, tongue poking the corner of her mouth the way it did when she framed a shot. Nova watched the motion more than the page. Elara's tongue had been on her clit forty minutes ago. The memory sat hot between Nova's legs.
She shifted. "Write it."
Elara grabbed the notebook, scribbled. Her handwriting was all sharp angles and loops, nothing like Nova's block letters. "Cosine of x squared times two x?"
"Close. You forgot the chain." Nova leaned in, hand covering Elara's to guide the pen. Their fingers overlapped. Elara's pulse jumped against Nova's wrist. "See? Cosine (x squared) times derivative of inside."
Elara turned her head. Their faces were inches apart. "You're a cruel teacher."
"I haven't even started the punishment." Nova's voice dropped. She let the pen roll away.
Elara's eyes darkened. "Pineapple?"
Nova answered by kissing her. Slow. Deliberate. The kind of kiss that started sweet and turned filthy in three heartbeats. Elara tasted like the mint gum she chewed when nerves hit. Nova tasted like restraint unraveling.
They moved without discussion. Textbook shoved aside. Laptop closed. Elara pushed Nova onto her back among the scattered notes, straddled her hips. Nova's hands went to Elara's waist, thumbs slipping under the hem of her cropped tee. Skin warm. Familiar now, but still electric.
Elara peeled the shirt off, tossed it toward her own bed. No bra tonight. She had stopped wearing one in the room three days ago. Nova's mouth went dry at the sight of her breasts, small and high, nipples tight from the cool air. She sat up, wrapped arms around Elara's back, and took one into her mouth.
Elara gasped, fingers threading into Nova's braid, loosening it. "Fuck. Yes."
Nova sucked harder, tongue flicking. Her hands slid down, cupped Elara's ass through thin sleep shorts. Elara ground against her, friction perfect. They had learned each other's rhythms fast. Elara liked teeth. Nova liked when Elara pulled her hair hard enough to sting.
Minutes blurred. Clothes vanished. Elara's shorts gone. Nova's tank and boy briefs peeled away. Skin on skin. Nova's thigh slipped between Elara's, pressure exactly where she needed. Elara rocked, slick and desperate. Nova's own arousal soaked the sheets beneath them.
Elara broke the kiss, breath ragged. "Want your fingers."
Nova obliged. Two sliding in easy. Elara clenched around her, hips rolling. Nova curled them, found the spot that made Elara swear in Korean. Thumb on clit. Steady circles. Elara's head fell back, throat exposed. Nova bit down, sucked a mark that would bloom purple by morning.
Elara came fast, body locking, cry muffled against Nova's shoulder. Nova worked her through it, gentle strokes until Elara collapsed, trembling.
"Your turn," Elara murmured against her neck.
She flipped them. Nova on her back now. Elara kissed down her body, slow. Collarbone. Sternum. The faint scar across Nova's ribs from a childhood bike crash. Lower. Stomach muscles jumped under Elara's tongue. She hooked fingers in Nova's underwear, dragged them down.
Nova's legs fell open. Embarrassment flickered (always did when Elara looked at her like this), but Elara's expression killed it. Hunger. Reverence. She kissed the inside of Nova's thigh, teeth grazing the track-spike scar. Then her mouth was on her. Tongue flat, pressure perfect. Nova's hands fisted the sheets.
Elara hummed, the vibration shooting sparks up Nova's spine. Fingers joined tongue. Three this time. Stretching. Filling. Nova's hips lifted off the bed. She was close already, anxiety and want twisted tight.
"Look at me," Elara said.
Nova forced her eyes open. Elara's gaze locked on hers, mouth shiny, chin wet. The sight unraveled her. Orgasm crashed hard, vision whiting out. She came with Elara's name broken on her tongue.
They lay tangled afterward, sweat cooling. Elara traced lazy circles on Nova's hip.
"You still owe me derivatives," Elara said.
Nova laughed, breathless. "Tomorrow. Promise."
Elara propped herself on an elbow. "Actually. I have a better idea."
She reached for her camera. Nova tensed.
"No flash this time," Elara said soft. "Just available light. Trust me."
Nova swallowed. Nodded.
Elara adjusted settings, shutter silent. She framed Nova sprawled, hair wild, lips swollen, marks on her neck. Click. Click. The sound intimate, not invasive. Nova relaxed into it. Posed. One knee bent. Hand trailing down her own stomach. Elara's breath hitched behind the lens.
"God. You're unreal."
Nova crooked a finger. Elara set the camera aside, crawled back. They kissed slow, languid. Afterglow sex. Elara on her back again. Nova between her legs, fingers lazy. Elara came twice more, quiet and shuddering.
Midnight crept toward one. They finally opened the textbook. Nova explained chain rule again, voice husky. Elara got every problem right this time. Reward: Nova's mouth on her breast while she wrote answers.
By 2:13 a.m., homework finished. They showered together in the communal bathroom, 3 a.m. slot empty. Steam and quiet. Elara washed Nova's hair, fingers massaging scalp. Nova returned the favor, nails scraping gentle. They kissed under the spray, water masking smaller sounds.
Back in the room, towels dropped. They fell into Nova's bed this time. Sheets already ruined. Didn't matter.
Sleep tugged. But Elara spoke into the dark. "I wrote something. During your run yesterday."
She reached under her pillow, pulled out a folded paper. Handed it over.
Nova unfolded it. Read by phone light.
*The angle of your jaw*
*when you concentrate*
*is sharper than any blade*
*I want to bleed on it*
*let you lick the wound clean*
Nova's throat tightened. She folded the paper, tucked it into her sketchbook like a pressed flower.
"You scare me," Nova whispered.
"Good scare?"
"The best kind."
They slept tangled. Nova's head on Elara's chest. Elara's arm around her waist. Alarm set for 5:30 run. They would ignore it.
Morning came gray. Rain tapped the window. Nova woke first, traced the bruises on Elara's neck. Elara stirred, smiled sleepy.
"Run's canceled," Nova said.
"Thank fuck."
They made out slow. Hands wandering. Elara's fingers slipped between Nova's legs again, lazy circles. Nova came with a sigh against her mouth.
Breakfast in bed: stolen mangoes from the fridge. Juice on chins. Licked clean.
Calc quiz at ten. Elara aced it. Texted Nova from the lecture hall: *Your fault. Distracted me into brilliance.*
Nova replied: *Reward tonight. Bring rope.*
Elara's reply was a string of eggplant emojis.
Afternoon classes dragged. Nova's urban-planning seminar. Professor droned about zoning laws. Nova sketched Elara instead. The curve of her hip. The mole on her left shoulder blade. She labeled it *future tattoo location.*
Elara in photo critique. Professor praised her portraits. "Raw emotion. The subject trusts you completely." Elara flushed, thinking of Nova's eyes when she came.
Evening. They met at the caf. Sat in the corner booth. Feet tangled under the table. Elara fed Nova fries. Nova stole sips of Elara's soda.
Back to the dorm. Door locked. Music low. Elara pulled soft cotton rope from her drawer (climbing rope from high school, dyed black). Nova's eyes widened.
"Safe word?" Elara asked.
"Pineapple still works."
Elara bound Nova's wrists to the headboard. Loose enough to escape, tight enough to feel. She kissed every inch of exposed skin. Slow. Worshipful. Nova writhed, begged. Elara took her time. Tongue and fingers until Nova sobbed with need.
She untied her after the third orgasm. Nova flipped her, pinned her down. Returned the favor with teeth marks on Elara's thighs.
They fell asleep at 11:58 p.m., earlier than usual. Exhausted. Sated.
Thursday brought the first real fight.
Nova's phone buzzed during dinner. Track coach. "Comeback race confirmed. Two weeks. Need you at practice tomorrow 6 a.m."
Nova stared at the screen. Panic clawed her throat.
Elara noticed. "What?"
"Coach wants me back. Like nothing happened."
Elara set her fork down. "That's good, right?"
"I can't." Nova's voice cracked. "The injury. The pressure. Last time I collapsed in the locker room. Hyperventilated until I blacked out."
Elara reached across the table. "Then don't. You don't owe them."
"But I want to." Nova's eyes filled. "I miss it. The speed. The clarity. Running silences everything."
Elara squeezed her hand. "Then we train smart. I'll be your pacer. Your water girl. Your hype squad."
Nova laughed wet. "You hate running."
"I love you enough to hate it less."
The words slipped out. Casual. Huge.
They both froze.
Elara's heart hammered. Too soon. Way too soon.
Nova's eyes softened. "Say it again."
Elara swallowed. "I love you enough to wake up at five-thirty and freeze my ass off while you lap me."
Nova leaned across the table, kissed her soft. "I love you enough to let you sleep in and film it instead."
Back in the room, no sex. Just holding. Nova cried into Elara's neck. Elara stroked her hair, whispered promises.
Friday practice. 6 a.m. Track slick with dew. Elara sat in the bleachers, camera ready. Nova warmed up slow. Knee taped. Coach watched like a hawk.
First lap. Nova flew. Graceful. Powerful. Elara's lens followed, shutter clicking. Tears pricked her eyes behind the viewfinder.
Nova finished strong. No collapse. Coach clapped her on the back. Nova looked to the bleachers. Elara held up a sign scribbled on notebook paper: *Mine.*
Nova laughed so hard she bent over.
They celebrated in the locker room showers. Empty at 7:15. Elara on her knees, Nova's hands in her hair. Water pounding. Nova came twice, legs shaking.
Weekend loomed. They planned a city adventure. But first, sleep.
Saturday morning. They woke late. Sun high. Bodies sore in the best way.
Elara developed the track photos. Nova hung them above her desk. Pride.
The angle of your jaw when you run, Elara wrote on the back of one. Sharper than any blade. I bleed willingly.
Nova kissed her until words dissolved.
Calc forgotten. Love not.