Fated for College Ch. 01

The air was warm, soft with the scent of blooming magnolias drifting through the half-open windows of their suite. Finals were over. The college town was buzzing with celebration, but inside their quiet apartment, Celine and Lia was chilling--just the two of them, curled up in hoodies and silk shorts, sipping jasmine tea over the low hum of lo-fi beats.

Their shared bedroom was a tapestry of contrast: Celine's side clean and orederly, her books and weights arranged with military precision; Lia's side soft and chaotic, sketchbooks stacked in haphazard piles, pressed flowers taped to the wall beside prints of surreal art and vintage polaroids of the two of them, laughing with sunlit eyes.

Celine sat cross-legged at the head of the bed, her honey-gold hair swept into a lazy bun, a faint smudge of eyeliner still defining her sharp, doll-like features. She was in one of Lia's oversized sweatshirts, because of course she was--she always stole Lia's clothes without asking, and Lia always let her. Across from her, Lia lounged against a mess of pillows, bare legs tucked beneath her, dark hair spilling over her shoulders as she absentmindedly doodled in the corner of a page already full of tiny sketches of Celine's face.

They'd been talking for hours--about nothing and everything. The comfort between them was so natural with a kind of wordless trust that had only deepened over the past year. And then, as if guided by some invisible force, Lia looked up and asked quietly:

"Celine... is there anything about you I don't know yet?"

Celine's fingers froze mid-stretch. She tilted her head, watching Lia with unreadable eyes. The question hung in the air longer than either of them expected.

"A few things," Celine said finally, her voice low, velvet-soft. "But not because I don't trust you."

Lia sat up slightly, her eyes gleaming with curiosity. "Then what?"

Celine hesitated--a rare moment for someone who was always so sure. She licked her lips and exhaled, slowly.

"I've never told anyone this," she said, gaze locked on Lia. "But I've never really been interested in boys. Or dating, at least not the way people do it normally. What I want is... control. I want someone to belong to me. Obey me. Give themselves to me. Not just in bed, but completely. I guess the word is dominance."

The confession landed in the room which quickly gave to silence. Celine expected a flicker of discomfort in Lia's expression--but what she saw instead was something like electricity. Shock, yes--but also passion.

Lia's fingers curled around the edge of her pillow. Her voice came out thinner than before.

"Like... a mistress?"

Celine nodded slowly. "Exactly."

Silence again. Lia looked down at her lap, cheeks pink, drawing a spiral on the blanket with one finger.

"You always felt different," she said quietly. "The way you look at me. The way you take care of everything."

Celine sat forward, gently lifting Lia's chin with her fingers.

"What about you, Lia?" she whispered. "If you had a secret--your real one--what would it be?"

Lia swallowed. Her eyes darted away, then back again. She looked vulnerable in that moment, open and trembling like a wire stretched too tight.

"I've always had this fantasy," she said, voice barely above a whisper. "Of giving myself to someone. Completely. Being... owned. Not hurt, just... used. Cherished and controlled. I thought something was wrong with me for wanting that."

Celine's breath caught in her throat. Her hand was still under Lia's chin, and now her thumb softly traced the edge of her cheek.

"There's nothing wrong with you," she said, voice low and firm. "You just haven't met someone you trusted enough to show it to."

Their eyes locked. The tension was no longer subtle--it was molten, intimate, begging to be touched.

"Do you trust me?" Celine asked.

Lia's answer came slowly. She nodded, once.

"I do."

Celine leaned in, her forehead resting gently against Lia's. "Then let me show you," she whispered. "No pressure. Just a taste. Just tonight."

Lia nodded again. But this time, her breath hitched. Her thighs squeezed together instinctively, her face flushed deep pink. Celine noticed every twitch and flicker.

"Words, Lia," she said, soft but commanding. "Say yes. Give me permission."

Lia trembled--but her voice was clear. "Yes, Celine. I want to try."

Celine's smile was devastating. Not cruel, not mocking--just pure, delighted power. Her fingers slid from Lia's cheek down her neck, then trailed lightly over her collarbone.

"Good girl."

Lia shuddered.

Celine stood, her presence growing even without an ounce of aggression. She reached out a hand.

"Strip for me. Slowly."

Lia's breath faltered. But she obeyed--fingers trembling, skin flushed, eyes never leaving Celine's.

It wasn't about being naked. It was about surrender.

And as Lia peeled away her sweatshirt, as Celine stepped closer with a dangerous gleam in her eye, something irreversible passed between them--something sacred.

A door had opened. And neither of them would ever walk back through it unchanged.