He's a drug, an addictive one, and I'm not sure it's a habit I can kick. All it took was one hit. One strong, euphoric hit and I was hooked.

Naz just stands there, in front of me, not reacting for a moment. The fire in his eyes fades, his stance relaxing.

"I'll just come back," the girl says. "Sorry."

She's gone before I can even think to tell her it's okay. What happened to my manners?

I turn away from Naz, glancing back at the stove, and switch off the noodles before they turn to mush. Sighing, I grab the seasoning packet as he holds it out to me.

"Are you mad?" I ask him as I stir the seasoning into the pot. He's being too quiet. I worry I've offended him.

"No," he says quietly. "I'm just wondering if me being here is wrong."

"I'm allowed to have guests," I reply. Granted, I'm supposed to have him show ID in the lobby and sign in, but still… him being here isn't wrong.

"That's not what I meant."

I grab two bowls and divide the noodles before turning to him. All that anger is gone, but he seems genuinely conflicted. "Does it bother you that I'm so young?"

He looks at me incredulously. "If it did, I wouldn't be here."

"Okay, then," I say. "There's nothing wrong."

He doesn't look reassured, but he doesn't press the issue. After doing a quick clean up job, we vacate the kitchen and head back to my room, bowls of noodles in hand. I hand him a plastic fork before grabbing one for myself and sitting down on the edge of my bed. I expect him to sit beside me, or at least take a seat at the chair at my small desk, but instead he leans against my dresser, towering above me.

I take a few bites, too starving to ignore my food, while he mostly stirs his noodles around with the fork. I watch him as I eat, smiling to myself when he takes his first bite. It's small, and tentative, his nose scrunching up as he chews and swallows. His eyes are focused in the bowl as he takes another bite, forcing it down.

He doesn't eat anymore.

After stirring his noodles for a few more minutes, giving me time to eat, he sets his bowl on the dresser behind him as his eyes seek me out.

He steps over to me and takes the empty bowl from my hand, setting it on the desk. Grasping my chin, he pulls my face up so I'll look at him. His thumb brushes across my bottom lip, and he's quiet for a minute before whispering, "Only a fool would be bothered by being with you."

Those words make my heart skip a beat. I exhale shakily as he leans down and kisses me, softly and sweetly, over and over again. He pulls back after a moment, still holding me in place, but I'm not ready for the moment to end. Instinctively, my hand moves to his head, fingers running through his hair, as I force him right back to me. He chuckles, not fighting it, and kisses me deeper.

Soft and sweet turns firm and frenzied, the once feather light kisses now brutalizing my lips. I'm not sure which way I prefer it. One way makes my heart flutter; the other sets my chest aflame.

Needing air, I pull away for only a second to take a deep breath, my eyes opening. I look up at him, seeing a smirk touching his lips, when his voice rings out. "Are your neighbors home?"

"Uh, no. Well, except for that girl we saw, but she's on the other side of the hall."

"Good."

"Why?" I ask as he kisses me again.

"Because," he says, "I want to make sure nobody will hear you."

A chill tears down my spine. I'm shivering from it when he pounces, forcing me back onto a pile of discarded clean clothes I left on my bed, his body covering mine. His kisses steal the air from my lungs as his hardness presses against me.

His hands are rough as they tear at my clothes. I'll be lucky if he doesn't rip these, too. He strips me, flinging material around, pulling his own off just as hastily. Grasping me around the waist, he yanks me back onto the small bed, not giving me any time to adjust when he settles between my thighs and pushes inside.

The thrust is so hard, so deep, that pain stabs my stomach. It feels like I've been impaled. I gasp, clawing his back, my nails digging into his skin. He pauses when I cry out but only stills for a few seconds before thrusting again.

And again.

And again.

It doesn't hurt as much as the first, but it isn't gentle, not in the least. His body is heavy, his grip strong, his hands rough as they fondle my flesh. He's smothering me, covering me, as I feel nothing, see nothing, live nothing except for him, existing only in the moment as he buries himself inside of me. I barely even register that the light is on anymore. The man is a wrecking ball, pounding me, and I come to pieces almost instantly.

He pulls out to finish, coming near my navel, just inches from where I yearn for him to stay.

"I'm on the pill." The words are strained as they come from my lips. I'm breathing heavily. My heart is racing. He's sitting back on his knees, and I suddenly feel exposed. "I've been on it for a while."

He stares down at me, nodding once in acknowledgement as he grips his cock, stroking it. My eyes are drawn down to it, and I'm mesmerized, watching him touch himself. My fingertips tingle with the urge to reach out and touch him, to feel him, to give him the pleasure he's giving himself, but I don't get the chance.

In a blink, he's back between my legs, slowly pushing inside of me again. My eyes flutter closed as he once more covers my body with his, picking right back up where he left off moments ago.