Dating Carson was like dating a loaded gun with the safety always on. Quiet. Still. Dangerous… but waiting.

People saw the hoodies, the headphones, the way he kept to himself. Always the guy with the bored stare, arms crossed, saying barely two words unless someone really forced him to talk.

But with you? Different story.

Especially tonight.

Your best friend had been parked on your bed for hours, talking nonstop about her new situationship, flipping through TikTok videos with the volume way too loud, laughing at things you weren’t even listening to.

Because the only thing you could focus on was Carson.

He sat low in your desk chair, legs spread lazy, thumb scrolling through his phone like he wasn’t paying attention—but his eyes kept cutting over to you. Lingering. Dark. Hungry.

Whenever your friend leaned over to show you something on her phone, you felt Carson’s stare burn holes through you. Whenever you laughed too loud at a stupid joke, he cocked an eyebrow like he knew exactly what game you were playing.

And every time she left the room—whether for snacks, water, or to check her phone downstairs—Carson’s hand would immediately find your thigh. Fingers dragging slow. Teasing. Knuckles tracing under the hem of your shorts. A barely-there squeeze that made your stomach tighten.

You’d slap his hand away, biting your lip, giving him a warning look like “Behave.” And every time… That slow smirk would spread across his face like he wasn’t even a little sorry.

By the time your friend finally left, tossing a distracted “Bye guys!” over her shoulder… You didn’t even make it two steps toward the door before Carson grabbed you from behind.

His hands gripped your waist, dragging you flush against him, mouth right at your ear. “You tryna be cute in front of her?” His voice was lower than you’d ever heard it—thick, rough, strained like he’d been holding it in all night.

You let out a shaky laugh, but before you could answer, he turned you around and kissed you like he was starved for it.

Hard. Deep. Hands everywhere at once—under your shirt, sliding up your sides, fingertips digging like he wanted to leave marks. His tongue slid against yours, slow but filthy, and the sound you made had him groaning low in his throat like you were driving him insane.

Your legs hit the bed and he followed without hesitation, hovering over you, hoodie sleeves pushed up, skin hot under your fingertips. You tugged at the waistband of his sweats without thinking— And he caught your wrist mid-move.

Pinned it above your head with one hand. Leaning down till his mouth barely brushed yours.

“You’re real bold when she’s not around, huh?” His breath hit your lips and you squirmed under him.

“Carson…” It came out needy, more than you wanted it to.

He smirked like he loved hearing you say his name like that. “You gonna beg?”

Your heart flipped. Eyes wide. Breath caught.

And then his free hand slid lower—over your stomach, dipping under the band of your shorts, slow enough to make you whimper but fast enough to tell you he was done being patient.

You gasped his name again and that just made him go lower—kissing down your neck, biting at your collarbone, dragging his teeth in a way that had you arching up into him.

“I should make you wait,” he murmured against your skin. “But you’ve been driving me crazy all night.”

You barely managed a shaky laugh, tugging at his hoodie again. “Then shut up and do something about it.”

That was the last warning you got before Carson’s control completely snapped. And for the rest of the night… The quiet guy wasn’t so quiet anymore.