(no subject)
Title: Burn, part 3
Pairing(s): Aria/Ezra
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Season 1, definitely after 1.10 and possibly as far as 1.15.
Warning: Inappropriate teacher/student relations, sex/things relating to sex, language, plotlessness, the fact that I'm writing this at 4AM... Oh, and it's horribly OOC.
Disclaimer: I do not own Pretty Little Liars or any of its characters. They are the property of ABC Family, Disney, the chick who wrote the PLL books, etc., and this fanfic is merely an effort to entertain my perverted and overactive imagination. No infringement is intended.
Author's Note: This began as a response to a Prompt posted at the PLL Kink Meme for “Ezra/Aria Car Sex,” but has since run wild.
There are many facts about Ezra Fitz's new life in Rosewood which do not sit well with him. Many of these are simple annoyances: the prioritization of sports over the arts for extracurricular funding, the fact that his apartment building doesn't have designated parking, the creepy cougars of the PTA, etc. These are relatively easy to cope with.
On the other hand, there are the Aria-related complications. Their relationship itself is fantastic; her personality compliments his well enough that they always manage to find something to talk about, yet they are different enough that things never grow predictable. Physically, the chemistry between them sparked hot, as they had more than proven this afternoon and to which the wide variety of Naughty Schoolgirl porn that was rapidly swallowing space on his portable hard drive could attest.
But the bliss he feels when they're together is often forced to compete with, and is sometimes overshadowed by, the reality of their situation. Which is that she is his student, not to mention the daughter of his co-worker. Whom he has befriended, and therefore must speak to at least once per weekday. While routinely entertaining thoughts of defiling her daughter. Awkward.
But it's the limitations that irk him most. Aria's life is fraught with complications, and he often yearns to pull her into his arms, kiss the worried crease from her brow, and stroke her hair until the tension is coaxed from her shoulders. Each time he comes across Aria and her friends huddled around a locker in the hall, whispering distraughtly, the urge consumes him, and each time he's forced to keep walking; pretending he doesn't see the gloom in her eyes, he's reminded of how inadequate he is at fulfilling her needs. And it's not because he lacks the necessary skill set, it's because legally, he's not supposed to try.
And it goes beyond a lack of PDA; they can't be seen together. Today's heavy rains provided a rare and fortuitous cover which was enough that the risk of someone getting a good enough look to recognize that it was her in his car was minimal. However, they still can't be seen going into his apartment building together, which is why he'd had to drop her off (albeit, at her insistence) outside a drugstore two blocks away, and why he was now seated on his couch waiting for her, eyes on the door.
As maddening as it can be sometimes, it's a good thing she's become the aggressor in their relationship: he's too indecisive. With each idle second that passes, he finds himself caught in an increasingly unbearable cycle in which he talks himself out of furthering their physical relationship, and then talking himself back into it again. Up until now the fact that they haven't actually crossed that line between unethical and unlawful had been a source of comfort, and he's reluctant to give that up. But his id, that inner he-man which so rarely voices itself, has felt so emasculated by this hands-off policy which forces him to leave the relationship unconsummated and his woman unsatisfied.
As boorish as he knows it is to think of Aria as his, he does. His to touch, to hold, to pleasure. Which is why Aria's comment that she “has never been a one-and-done type of girl” had been such potent fuel for his possessive side. Rationally, he had always suspected Aria had previous sexual experiences (blushing virgins don't often cruise older guys in bars), suspicions which were confirmed during his earlier ministrations (no hymen), yet mental image of Aria writhing and moaning beneath some nameless, faceless prior conquest the way she had moaned and writhed as he touched her made Ezra burn with the need to brand himself into both her skin and memory until all remnants of these previous partners had been replaced with him and him alone.
Which puts him under a lot of fucking pressure.
Because this needs to perfect. He needs to be perfect. Because sex that can cost him his career, his freedom, and his future needs to be great, fantastic, so tremendous that it provides a legitimate argument for why it's worth the risk to have said sex. Besides, it's not every day he has sex for the first time with the woman who just might be his soul mate.
Yet when Aria bursts into his apartment, all such thoughts are immediately wiped from his mind in the wake of the image before him. Aria has dropped her bag, peeled of her drenched sweater, and now stands a few feet from where he sits on the couch.
“You're shaking,” Ezra tells her. And indeed she is: her body is trembling noticeably, hair dripping rainwater.
“Cold,” is Aria's only response, both an affirmation and an explanation. Her eyes are trained intently on his face, trying to gauge his expression. He knows she's wondering if he's going to leave her hanging, send her away unsatisfied in order to preserve what little that is left of the invisible line of what he considered to be conduct between them. The line that, while letting her experience his affections, sent her to bed cold and unsated. To cross that line is to redefine everything that they are.
But clearly his previous efforts in the car have renewed her usual boldness because she stares Ezra straight in the eye and asks “Warm me up?”
Neither of them is really expecting him to oblige, and yet when he reaches for her, she is unwilling to let the opportunity go to waste, and suddenly he has a lapful of squirming, writhing, eager Aria and it's glorious and frightening and everything he's never known he's always needed.
So he rolls with it.
TBC...
Pairing(s): Aria/Ezra
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Season 1, definitely after 1.10 and possibly as far as 1.15.
Warning: Inappropriate teacher/student relations, sex/things relating to sex, language, plotlessness, the fact that I'm writing this at 4AM... Oh, and it's horribly OOC.
Disclaimer: I do not own Pretty Little Liars or any of its characters. They are the property of ABC Family, Disney, the chick who wrote the PLL books, etc., and this fanfic is merely an effort to entertain my perverted and overactive imagination. No infringement is intended.
Author's Note: This began as a response to a Prompt posted at the PLL Kink Meme for “Ezra/Aria Car Sex,” but has since run wild.
There are many facts about Ezra Fitz's new life in Rosewood which do not sit well with him. Many of these are simple annoyances: the prioritization of sports over the arts for extracurricular funding, the fact that his apartment building doesn't have designated parking, the creepy cougars of the PTA, etc. These are relatively easy to cope with.
On the other hand, there are the Aria-related complications. Their relationship itself is fantastic; her personality compliments his well enough that they always manage to find something to talk about, yet they are different enough that things never grow predictable. Physically, the chemistry between them sparked hot, as they had more than proven this afternoon and to which the wide variety of Naughty Schoolgirl porn that was rapidly swallowing space on his portable hard drive could attest.
But the bliss he feels when they're together is often forced to compete with, and is sometimes overshadowed by, the reality of their situation. Which is that she is his student, not to mention the daughter of his co-worker. Whom he has befriended, and therefore must speak to at least once per weekday. While routinely entertaining thoughts of defiling her daughter. Awkward.
But it's the limitations that irk him most. Aria's life is fraught with complications, and he often yearns to pull her into his arms, kiss the worried crease from her brow, and stroke her hair until the tension is coaxed from her shoulders. Each time he comes across Aria and her friends huddled around a locker in the hall, whispering distraughtly, the urge consumes him, and each time he's forced to keep walking; pretending he doesn't see the gloom in her eyes, he's reminded of how inadequate he is at fulfilling her needs. And it's not because he lacks the necessary skill set, it's because legally, he's not supposed to try.
And it goes beyond a lack of PDA; they can't be seen together. Today's heavy rains provided a rare and fortuitous cover which was enough that the risk of someone getting a good enough look to recognize that it was her in his car was minimal. However, they still can't be seen going into his apartment building together, which is why he'd had to drop her off (albeit, at her insistence) outside a drugstore two blocks away, and why he was now seated on his couch waiting for her, eyes on the door.
As maddening as it can be sometimes, it's a good thing she's become the aggressor in their relationship: he's too indecisive. With each idle second that passes, he finds himself caught in an increasingly unbearable cycle in which he talks himself out of furthering their physical relationship, and then talking himself back into it again. Up until now the fact that they haven't actually crossed that line between unethical and unlawful had been a source of comfort, and he's reluctant to give that up. But his id, that inner he-man which so rarely voices itself, has felt so emasculated by this hands-off policy which forces him to leave the relationship unconsummated and his woman unsatisfied.
As boorish as he knows it is to think of Aria as his, he does. His to touch, to hold, to pleasure. Which is why Aria's comment that she “has never been a one-and-done type of girl” had been such potent fuel for his possessive side. Rationally, he had always suspected Aria had previous sexual experiences (blushing virgins don't often cruise older guys in bars), suspicions which were confirmed during his earlier ministrations (no hymen), yet mental image of Aria writhing and moaning beneath some nameless, faceless prior conquest the way she had moaned and writhed as he touched her made Ezra burn with the need to brand himself into both her skin and memory until all remnants of these previous partners had been replaced with him and him alone.
Which puts him under a lot of fucking pressure.
Because this needs to perfect. He needs to be perfect. Because sex that can cost him his career, his freedom, and his future needs to be great, fantastic, so tremendous that it provides a legitimate argument for why it's worth the risk to have said sex. Besides, it's not every day he has sex for the first time with the woman who just might be his soul mate.
Yet when Aria bursts into his apartment, all such thoughts are immediately wiped from his mind in the wake of the image before him. Aria has dropped her bag, peeled of her drenched sweater, and now stands a few feet from where he sits on the couch.
“You're shaking,” Ezra tells her. And indeed she is: her body is trembling noticeably, hair dripping rainwater.
“Cold,” is Aria's only response, both an affirmation and an explanation. Her eyes are trained intently on his face, trying to gauge his expression. He knows she's wondering if he's going to leave her hanging, send her away unsatisfied in order to preserve what little that is left of the invisible line of what he considered to be conduct between them. The line that, while letting her experience his affections, sent her to bed cold and unsated. To cross that line is to redefine everything that they are.
But clearly his previous efforts in the car have renewed her usual boldness because she stares Ezra straight in the eye and asks “Warm me up?”
Neither of them is really expecting him to oblige, and yet when he reaches for her, she is unwilling to let the opportunity go to waste, and suddenly he has a lapful of squirming, writhing, eager Aria and it's glorious and frightening and everything he's never known he's always needed.
So he rolls with it.
TBC...