He gropes her harder, grinning down at her. Fuck, she wants him. He involuntarily rocks a little bit against her body, pressing his hardening cock into her just a little. Fuck that feels good. He does out again, intentionally this time. He squeezes and gets harder. 

💖💖💖!!

Oh fuck she likes that. He gropes her more, harder, and rocks against her again. Fuck that feels good. "You like that, don't you," he says, biting off the epithet at the last possible moment. (Would she like it? He has no idea. Better to be careful even if she's at his complete mercy.)

"Mmhmmmmm💖," she says, meltingly. The sparkling heart is nearly audible.

(Should he go for it? Should he say it? Probably better not to. Though on the other hand, it would turn him on a lot.)

"You like when I touch you," he says, spurred on by her encouraging noises running fingers over breasts "and squeeze you," gropes her hard "and press against you," rocking into her pressing his hard cock against her soft body "don't you, you." He bites it off again. Okay, this was a problem he hadn't expected. 

"Mhm mhm mhm!!" Vigorous nodding. Tiny squirm. It couldn't be clearer that she wants more.

(More how though?) The obvious thing is to rock against her harder, rubbing his cock up and down her body (which feels incredibly, stupidly good) and squeeze her harder, doing his best to feel her through her clothes. "You really like that, don't you huh," (that kinda works instead of other words) he says. 

Rosy is far too distracted by 💖sensations💖 to notice any vocabulary issues he might be having. She makes happy sounds when he rubs against her and hopeful noises when he gropes her breasts through her shirt.

Okay, what if he wants to touch her breasts more directly? The problem is there's a shirt in the way, and no good way of getting it off at the moment. (Though he does enjoy the idea of ordering her to take it off, but that would give her her arms back and he doesn't want that.) Instead, he pulls up her shirt (feeling the soft smooth skin of her stomach) and slides his hand upwards until he finds bra-covered (oh well) breasts. Which he then hungrily gropes. 

This course of action is Rosy Approved 💖💖💖

He is completely unsurprised but incredibly delighted at her approval. He slides the other hand in there, feeling her body more directly than he ever has anyone before, squeezing and controlling and feeling her lush and rubbing his cock against her more and more, he feels, so incredibly good. "Mimmm..." he says, biting off a "mine." Not yet, but soon. He can have her if he wants. 

His touch is so good and his weight on top of her is so good and his strength and power are so good and his desire is so, so good.

She wants this and she wants to be his and she's going to be his and she's so hot and into him and her breasts feel so good in his hands (especially how she reacts when he hurts them, feel her arch and thrill to it), and his cock is so hard rubbing against her, and...

Oh fuck. 

"Oh fuck," he says out loud, and pulls his hands away and tries to stop it but it's no use at all, and he's cumming into his pants. "Damnit, damnit, damnit." he says, feeling a wet and sticky substance in his crotch and from his boxers as they start to absorb it.

Under the circumstances, Rosy's reaction time is not the greatest. She blinks in confusion and surprise.

Oh whoops not a good time to suddenly be cursing is it. Shit. "Sorry, sorry, sorry," he says, "not your fault, I, um, might have um, came, a little." It is not a little. "Sorry."

"What? No. Don't be sorry. No."

Okay. It is time for Rosy to be a functional human being and not a happy puddle. She takes a deep breath and blinks a few times and—tries to sit up but he's still on top of her— "Do you want a tissue or something, they're over there," she nods to her nightstand which does indeed have a pastel purple tissue box neatly arranged next to the lamp and the little glass box full of pretty rocks.

He can feel her moving under her, and shifts to let her out, and is immediately met with sqiushy sticky shift in his crotch. Damnit. Moving more carefully, he gets up off of her, turns to where she indicated the tissues are, and sits down facing away from her (silly to feel self conscious about showing her things under the circumstances, but here we are). "Thanks," he says, and reaches for a tissue, and puts it down his pants. It's sticky in there. Ugh. He tries to wipe, and things get even more sticky. He goes to grab another tissue. 

She finishes sitting up. "This is not a problem I have much experience in solving. Um. There's a bathroom just a few steps away down the hall, if that helps? Also you don't have to be sorry and it's actually kind of flattering that you were enjoying me that much. Though I recognize that it's still an inconvenient outcome."

Her being flattered helps. "I might want to use the bathroom," he says. "I probably won't run into anyone, right?" He wipes. Still sticky. "I've had um, some experience with this problem before." He's had mishaps before. "Worst case it should be dry in like an hour." And that had been a good thing when he found out, because it would have embarrassing at the end of class. 

"If you need to do secret laundry I can make it happen," she adds. "Not trivially, but I can."

He giggles. "I don't think secret laundry will be necessary." He grabs another tissue and stands, carefully. "Which way did you say the bathroom was?"

"Turn left outside my room, it's the closest door, has a swooshy golden handle, it'll be open unless there's someone in there which there won't be because that's my bathroom."

"Okay," he says, dabbing at the wet spot at the front of his pants. "I'll be back in a bit. Thanks." And he rushes off. 

The bathroom is very pretty; the walls are deep blue at the bottom to match the deep blue tile floor, shading up to a pale sea-green at the top, and all the decorations are ocean-themed.

(That's really pretty, what. Did Rosy have a hand in decorating the bathroom? She said it was hers, maybe she did.)

He's not really here to admire the (highly admirable) decor, though. He'll use tissues if they're easily findable, toilet paper if not. Pull everything off, and get to wiping.

The boxers are really too icky to keep wearing, but he's done a passable job on the pants, and they're mostly dry. Ish. He puts the pants back on, wraps the boxers in a badly made thing of paper, and heads back to Rosy's room, poorly wrapped package in tow.