The End of the Semester - The Exhange Student Final Part

The dorm was too quiet.

Too still.

Maybe because I knew the clock was ticking now. One more night and the semester was over. One more night, and Ren would be gone.

We didn’t talk about it. Not directly. But it lingered between us like humidity — dense, sticky, heavy.

Ren was folding one of his shirts when I sat on my bed, watching him. “You excited to go home?”

He looked over his shoulder and smiled faintly. “Mmm.”

I stared at the floor. “I’m not.”

Silence.

Then, his soft voice: “I’ll never forget you.”

I swallowed thick. “Yeah… same.”

He dropped the shirt. Walked over. Knelt in front of me. His hand slid onto my thigh. Warm. Steady.

“I want to give you something,” he whispered, “something you’ll never forget either.”

I looked down at him.

“Ren…”

But he didn’t answer. Just pushed me down gently onto the bed. His lips met mine, slow and intentional, like he was sealing a promise into my mouth.

Clothes came off.

Not rushed — not like before. Every movement was careful, deliberate. A slow undressing of both our bodies and everything we hadn’t said.

He kissed down my chest, tongue swirling around each nipple until I was arching for him. Then lower. His hands parted my legs, mouth hovering at my inner thigh.

And then he said: “Let me taste you, please.”

Before I could answer, his tongue was already teasing my hole, slow and wet and filthy. He moaned into me as he rimmed me open, hands gripping my thighs, pulling me deeper into his face. I’d never felt anything like it. His spit, his breath, his hunger — all of it focused on me.

“Fuck, Ren—” I gasped.

He came up, face flushed. “I want you to remember this,” he whispered.

Then he pushed a lubed finger in. Then another. I grabbed his wrist and kissed him again, needy, desperate.

He flipped me on my stomach. Slid in slowly.

No rush.

Just that long stretch. Inch by inch. Deep breaths. Skin against skin.

“Is this good?” he whispered in my ear, starting to thrust gently.

“So good,” I moaned.

He picked up rhythm. His hands gripped my hips. His breath hot on my neck.

Then—

“You like when I fuck you like this?”
“Yeah…”
“You like being mine?”
“Yes, fuck—”

He pulled out, flipped me over. Spread my legs. Pushed back in. Kissed me hard while he rutted deep.

He whispered dirty things in Japanese. Things I couldn’t understand but felt in my bones.

He sucked my neck. Bit my earlobe. Grinded deep.

“Say my name,” he whispered.
“Ren. Ren—fuck—”
“Louder.”
“Ren!”

He wrapped his hand around my cock. Started stroking me in rhythm with his thrusts. The tension coiled in my stomach, tighter, hotter, unbearable.

Then he leaned down, lips at my ear.

“愛してる,” he whispered.

I froze.

“What… what does that mean?”

He smiled. “I love you.”

And that was it.

I came so hard I couldn’t breathe. Hot and fast all over my chest, moaning his name like a confession. He came inside me seconds later, holding me close, hips shaking, breath ragged.

We lay there for a long time.

Sweaty. Exhausted. Intertwined.

And then… I must’ve fallen asleep.

When I woke up…

The bed was cold.

His bed was made. His side of the room — empty.

Gone.

But something sat on my pillow.

A USB drive. With a note.

“For when you miss me.”

My hands trembled when I plugged it into my laptop.

It opened to a folder titled: For Nate.

Dozens of videos.

Ren jerking off on his bed, moaning my name. Ren fingering himself, whispering thank you. Ren in the shower. Ren in my hoodie. Ren with his tongue out, licking up his own cum.

I sat there, stunned, hard already.

Even if he was gone… the fun wasn’t.

And maybe, just maybe — neither was the love.