Sabrina & the Stupid Sleepless Siren

Sabrina lay in her "

femme-y

" dorm room, with the color-changing LEDs of a content creator casting a soft, surreal glow over her wall decor. She hadn't moved all day, sprawled across her floral sheets, her long, messy black hair fanned out like a dark halo. Her tank top clung to her sweat-dampened skin, her panties still stained from the night before. She stared at the ceiling, replaying that moment -- waking atop that Jacob guy, her body shuddering through an orgasm, then doubling in intensity as she felt his hot, creamy release flood her

most sensitive and private place

, soothing her pains. The memory sent a shiver through her, a confusing mix of shame and warmth she couldn't shake. Something deep inside her felt... good. Comfy.

Safe.

And she hated herself for it.

Unbeknownst to her, the hormones in Jacob's semen were at work, weaving a chemical thread of attachment into her fragile psyche while her body

greedily

absorbed them. She didn't know why she kept thinking of him -- his beefy frame, his shy stammer, the way he'd looked at her with such soft, hurt eyes when she'd accused him of rape. No one at this Midwestern hellhole of a university had ever looked at her with anything but

scorn

. The only non-white girl in her dorm, she was a target for their jeers-- "slant-eyes", "fortune cookie", lots of gibberish insults meant to sound like a vaguely Asian language -- cruelty she buried beneath her Instagram facade. Nothing about last night or today made sense, and she didn't understand why her body betrayed her like that.

Jacob, meanwhile, sat in his cluttered room, hentai muted on his laptop, his collectible Transformers staring down from their shelves. He wanted to text her, to check on her, but he didn't have her number. No one invited him to the dorm floor group chat -- he was the big fat nerd, the loser, the invisible. So he knocked on her door, his knuckles tentative against the wood. No answer. She was inside, he knew, but silent. Defeated, he slid a letter under her door, scrawled in shaky handwriting on a torn notebook page.

"Sabrina,"

it read,

"It's okay if you don't like me. I don't think anyone does so its fine. I just always thought you were really special. Your posts, your smile, everything. I'll never hurt you or treat you badly, no matter how much you think I'm a loser. But you make me want to be a better man. Whatever guy you're with will be the luckiest. Well, bye, I guess, and I promise I won't tell anyone what happened ever. --Jacob."

He mumbled to himself saying he had no one to tell and who'd believe a loser like him, anyway?

Sabrina found it later, her fingers trembling as she unfolded the paper. Relief washed over her, tinged with empathy. No one here had ever said anything that kind. She'd expected him to mock her, to recoil from what she'd done in her sleep--grabbing his private area, straddling him like some feral thing. Instead, he'd offered tenderness. She clutched the letter, tears pricking her eyes. Why had it happened? She grabbed her phone, Googling "

sex while sleeping

," but the state's strict decency laws blocked the results, flagging them as pornography. "This action has been logged."

Frustrated, she tossed the phone aside and stayed in bed, skipping meals, her stomach growling but her mind too tangled to care. Yet that strange, cozy feeling lingered, from near her bladder to her heart, a warmth she couldn't name.

At dinnertime, another note slipped under her door, this one she couldn't pull because it was taped to something. He'd attached to a brown paper bag.

"I thought you might be hungry. It's not much, but I hope you like it. --J."

Inside was a peanut butter sandwich on whole wheat, simple and unglamorous. Not her favorite, but as she bit into it, it tasted like the best thing she'd ever eaten -- comfort in every chew. She didn't know Jacob had watched her Instagram stories, noting her quiet debates about if peanut butter is actually a food, admitting it was like a comfort food for her even though it was more of a "paste" than a "food", and pivoting to her usual boba-tea obsession.

That night, the sexsomnia struck again. Sabrina's body jolted awake in the dark, her feet carrying her across the hall at a speed her mind would never catch up to. Jacob had locked his door this time, determined to keep her out -

for her sake

, not his. She'd seemed so confused after being so forward and confident.

But she kicked it, hard, and the wood rattling under her small but fierce frame sounded like the concussive blast of fireworks. He scrambled to unlock it, heart racing, a shy smile breaking as he saw her -- wild-eyed, lip-licking, the "

other

" Sabrina... the one who owned him in her sleep!

She shoved him inside, her tank top askew, panties already tugged aside. "Why isn't it ready?" she growled, grabbing his flaccid dick. It swelled in her hand, thickening as he stuttered, "H-hi, Sabrina, it's nice to--" She cut him off, her voice sharp and possessive. "This is my dick now. I can have it whenever I want!" She pushed him onto the bed, straddling him, her strength and leverage pinning his flabby arms as she sank onto his erection. Her tight, swollen flesh stretched around him again, slick with arousal, the speedbumps caused by being a novice sexual creature eclipsed by her primal need.

"

Hurry up and gimme your cum

" she demanded, riding him hard, her hips slamming down with relentless force. Jacob groaned, helpless under her, his cock throbbing as her wet heat gripped him. It didn't take long -- her command, her ferocity undid him with a smile on his face, if not in his heart. He gasped, ejaculating inside her, his hot seed pulsing deep as her real self woke mid-climax. Sabrina's eyes fluttered open, tears spilling as she felt him finish, her body betraying her again. She squirted spurts of liquid onto his lap, a sharp, involuntary release soaking his belly, her orgasm crashing through her shame with her eyes confused and her jaw slack.

Sabrina collapsed atop Jacob, her small frame sinking into his soft bulk, her face pressing into his shoulder as sobs wracked her body. The tears came fast, hot and messy, her breath hitching against his sweaty skin. "Hi", he said, trying to play it cool with a voice that cracked. As she cried, her inner walls -- still tender and swollen from their rough coupling -- contracted involuntarily, squeezing his cock, still buried inside her. Jacob groaned softly, the sensation overwhelming, then overstimulating, his overjoyed dick ticklish and twitching with fresh arousal. Her sobs tightened her grip on him in a visceral rhythm that sent a shiver through his core.

"S-Sabrina," he stammered, his voice gentle but strained, "can you... let me out? I'm, uh, starting to get hard again." His cheeks flushed red, embarrassment mingling with his desperate need to comfort her.

Her eyes widened, mortification cutting through her tears. "I'm sorry," she whispered, voice cracking as she scrambled off him, accidentally smooshing his nose as she used his face as a handhold, her thighs slick with their mingled fluids--blood, semen, her own squirt. She fumbled around his cluttered room, searching for her panties in the dim glow of his laptop's hentai screen. Jacob, ever polite, spotted them tangled in his sheets and handed them to her, his thick fingers trembling slightly as he forced himself to look away from a dark patch where something white was dripping out below her waist.

"Here," he said softly, his tenderness stark against the chaos of the moment.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled again, clutching the damp fabric to her chest. She bolted for the door, her tank top askew, her bare feet slapping the hardwood, her bottoms still off. Jacob lunged after her, his boxer briefs half-pulled up, desperation clawing at him.

"Sabrina, wait!" he yelled, his voice raw, cracking with need. "Please -- I just... I want to help you." His words echoed down the hall, but she didn't turn back, disappearing around the corner, her sobs fading into the night. "I'd give anything to spend another second with you.", he said to no one, as he was completely alone in the hallway now. What was her deal?

Back in the glow of her pastel pink dorm, Sabrina curled into a ball on her bed, a rotating rainbow glow of color-chaning fairy lights on her tear-streaked face. A poster, a boy from a boy band in Korea, stared down, indifferent to her suffering. She clutched her lower abdomen now, the dread of pregnancy sinking deeper -- the way the state had outlawed all birth control hanging over her like a silent guillotine.

After a while, that strange, cozy feeling pulsed inside her, the boy's hormones from his fluids weaving an unwanted thread of attachment. She cried herself to sleep, alone, hugging a pillow that wasn't good enough for cuddling, her mental picture of her cozy safe place in her room in the dorm shattered beyond recognition.

Across the hall, Jacob slumped onto his bed, the scent of her still lingering on his sheets. His Gundams loomed above him, silent witnesses to his unraveling. Tears welled in his eyes -- relief at her presence, grief at her pain, longing for her closeness. He'd meant every word of his letter, every clumsy plea. She made him want to be better, but now she was gone, and he was still just the fat nerd no one wanted. He cried himself to sleep, alone, the Ring camera blinking in the dark, capturing nothing but his quiet despair.

Their tears marked the end of a night neither could escape, a raw, what was a thread of connection becoming a bind that tied them in ways they couldn't yet fathom. The stakes --

emotional, physical, primal

-- tightened around them, promising a collision neither was ready for.