Title: Mental Notes - ethereal_65
Title: Mental Notes
Author: ethereal_65
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 3,605
Summary: Senior year is starting back up and Veronica tries to cope.
A/N: Feedback always welcome. I've never posted here before. Please be gentle.
If it were anywhere but Southern California, the air could be described as cool and crisp. However, it is Southern California and the air is anything but. Here, the air is hot and muggy and downright miserable, much like her attitude - or so Wallace tells her all summer. He’s somehow convinced her that being holed up in her apartment is no way to go through life. Hiding out is not Veronica Mars’ MO, he said to her. He called her a hero and told her that the stupid 09ers can’t say anything because they all were proven wrong - on national television no less. But it isn’t them she’s afraid of, it’s him. She doesn’t tell Wallace that, but he knows it.
She promises Wallace she will return to the demented halls of Neptune High and put a hold on her plans of running off to New York to be a famous photographer, as long as he is by her side. He agrees to the terms wholeheartedly.
She steps out of her apartment and breathes the murky scent that is Neptune. For a second she thinks she missed the smell, but then thoughts of gasoline and smoke and liquor cloud her mind and she quickly decides she’s leaving the same night she graduates.
She gets out of Wallace’s car. He told her “chin up” on the way over. She tilted her head back so far she was looking at the roof of the car and asked him if it was high enough. He had a laugh. So did she, but he knew she was faking it for his benefit.
As soon as her foot hits the pavement all conversation ceases in the parking lot and all eyes are on her. Wallace’s words ring in her head. Chin up. She straightens herself and squares her shoulders. Her chin and head are another story. Her muscles don’t seem to be reacting to her brain’s command of lifting. She makes a mental note to work on that one.
She doesn’t meet anyone’s gaze and silently walks into the building. She hears the murmured conversations start before she’s even fully out of earshot. No one ever said the rich had good manners. In fact, she has evidence they don’t. Who would call murdering your son’s girlfriends proper etiquette? Well, one girlfriend and attempted murder on an ex. She muses that it’s the same difference.
She’s grateful for AP classes. She knows certain people she doesn’t want to talk to won’t be in there. As soon as she masters the navigation of the halls to all of her classes without seeing those people, the year will just breeze by. Out of sight, out of mind. There’s just one problem with that. Journalism. Well, she never really liked it all that much, anyway. She makes another mental note to talk to Clemmons about transferring out. She’s sure he’ll understand. If not, she can always blackmail him. For today, though, she’s going to have to ditch. Fifty-five minutes of being in the same room as a specific certain person is bound to cause problems. And Veronica Mars doesn’t cause problems - or at least not anymore.
She explains it partially to Wallace, but he seems to think otherwise. He calls it facing her fears. She calls it an exorcism. Whatever happens she’s sure there will be blood on the walls, at least one person dead and someone screaming that Satan made them do it. She’s fairly certain the last one will be her. She tells Wallace as much. He tells her to be the bigger man, even though she’s so short. It earns him a punch in the shoulder. He doesn’t mind, though, because he knows she’s coming around.
Wallace catches her in the hall trying to ditch Journalism. His heart almost breaks when he sees how scared she is. He tells her its okay and she nearly breaks down in the hall. He gathers her in his arms and carefully pulls her into an empty classroom. He sits her on the teacher’s desk and wipes her eyes with the cuff of his shirt. She’s nearly regained her momentary lapse in composure when there’s a knock on the classroom door. They look at each other curiously and Wallace goes to the door.
If Wallace was a little faster he probably could have slammed the door on the intruder’s hand as it reached around the jam to push the door farther open. However, as luck would have it, Wallace’s hand-eye coordination was limited to the basketball court today.
Wallace does manage to stand between a very surprised Veronica and a very disgruntled Logan. Wallace suddenly realizes this is not where he wants to be, and nor where she should be. He grabs her arm and tugs her off the desk, towards the open door.
Logan has other plans.
Logan pushes his hand into Wallace’s chest and keeps Wallace from advancing out the door with her. Wallace looks back at her, silently asking her if she wants him to kick Logan’s ass. Shockingly, though, she shakes her head. She’s taking his advice. She’s facing her fears and being the bigger person. Wallace curses himself for trying to be helpful and sagely. Finally, Wallace releases his hold on her arm and retreats from the room.
Wordlessly Logan closes the door behind Wallace and rests his head against it. She hears the soft snick of the lock as he bolts the door. She prepares herself for the razor sharp lashes that will come spewing out of his mouth at any moment. He shocks her, though. He whispers that he’s missed her. She asks him to repeat it because she isn’t sure she heard him correctly. He smiles. She can’t see it because he’s still not facing her, but she can hear it. A weight lifts from her chest.
After what seems like eternity he turns to her. He repeats himself, making sure he enunciates every syllable and sound. She almost laughs at his blatant attempt to lighten the situation. She takes a step forward and tells him she almost didn’t come back. He mirrors her step and tells her he knows. She takes another step and tells him she’s sorry. Again he mirrors her movements and tells her he knows. She takes her last step and tells him she missed him, too. He closes the gap so that their faces are inches apart. He tells her he didn’t know that.
His breath is warm on her face and, happily, alcohol free. He places his hand delicately on her cheek and his fingers carefully trace along her chin, his eyes mesmerized by the pattern his hand is drawing. His fingertips brush along the edge of her lips, causing them to curve into a sad smile. His brow creases and he frowns. His eyes move up to meet her blue oceanic orbs and read them to find the heart of her melancholy. He finds his answer reflecting back at him. He sees himself. He shuts his eyes tight to keep from seeing the pain he’s caused her.
She reaches up her hand and strokes across his cheek, causing his eyes to open slowly. It’s her way of telling him that it wasn’t just him and she definitely doesn’t blame him. The sadness is still so strong, though, and he longs to replace it with something better.
He slowly bends his head down to her and lightly brushes his lips to hers, testing his boundaries. She gratefully presses closer to him, accepting his peace offering. She wants to tell him that everything will be okay, but he has other plans for the mouth he remembers so painfully well. He silences her with his swift movements and presses his lips firmly to hers. She graciously opens her mouth to his attack and his tongue slides in unobstructed.
His arms reach around her tiny waist and hold her body tightly. Her hands move up his arms, around his shoulders and clasp around his neck when they meet. As soon as she’s secured herself to his body he immediately lifts her from the ground, desperate to continue feeling her beneath his fingers. He tells her as much and she says she knows. He laughs and asks if she’s making fun of him. She instantly stops her oral assault and looks him dead in the eyes. She wants the same thing she replies adamantly. He doesn’t need to be told twice.
He finds that special spot on her neck that he remembers so well. The spot, where if he kissed and sucked it, would cause her to gasp and sigh at the same time. He spent the summer thinking about that spot. He’d stare at it for hours whenever her beautiful face graced the cover of some trashy tabloid. He longed to touch that spot again, even just for a moment. And here he was, kissing that very spot. He couldn’t help but smile at his luck.
She felt him grinning into her neck and she asks him why. He tells her she is the reason. At that moment she produces her most genuine smile. She has no witty retort, but he doesn’t need one, either.
Her hands rest on his shoulders as he sets her down on the desk. He skims along her sides, relishing the feeling of her soft skin. She quips that if he keeps rubbing the same spot she’ll be raw. He can’t help but be turned on when she says it. He thinks that that spot isn’t the only place he’d like to rub raw. She laughs when his inner monologue is spoken. He at least has the decency to blush. She doesn’t mind, though, because she has the same thoughts.
With her reveal his eyes darken as his fingers dance up her skin and tickle her ribs. She bites her lower lip and looks at him through her lashes in a way he finds incredibly sexy. He’s vaguely aware that as he is pushing her back onto the desk, but she isn’t stopping him. His mouth descends onto hers and he is devouring her from the inside out. She is desperately fisting the collar of his shirt and pulling him closer still.
He regretfully removes one hand from her body and takes a swipe at the top of the desk. She barely notices, however, because the hand that is still on her is inching its way higher, pushing her shirt up along with it. Only when his other hand is back on her skin does she feel the cool wood against her back. The sudden drop in temperature against her causes her body to react, sending goose bumps rushing across her pale skin. They disappear as quickly as they came as he flicks the closure of her bra open. A gasp escapes her mouth when his fingertips brush, ever so gently, over her aroused nipple.
Then he gets that trademark smirk. He tells her he’s glad he isn’t the only one who is enjoying himself. He grinds against her so that she knows exactly what he’s talking about. She doesn’t need clarification, but is certainly thankful for it. Now it’s her turn to smirk.
He wonders what she’s up to as her hands trail to the edge of his pants. She runs them lightly around his waist and it tickles him slightly, but excites him even more. He bites the section of neck his mouth is working and she groans from the sensation. The little noises she makes cause his body to react in arousal, almost painfully so. If he doesn’t get relief soon he’ll be forced to ditch the rest of school and lock himself in his room for a few hours. Because, yes, fantasies involving Veronica Mars always take hours. He knows this because he’s spent a good portion of his time consumed by this new hobby, though it has nothing on the real thing.
He’s so caught up in the sensations that are zipping through his brain that he barely has time to comprehend them. There’s one sensation, though, that reverberates through his brain when she somehow manages to unzip his pants without him noticing, and now she’s wrapped her hands around his rigid erection. That one almost makes him stop, just so he can relish the feeling - almost.
His hands move of their own volition and find their way to her exposed thigh. He is incredibly grateful for skirts, even sensible skirts like this one. Easy access is the only thought that comes to mind. He lets his nails drag along the inside of her thigh to the edge of her sensible panties, sending shivers up her body. He notes to himself that he needs to buy her something less sensible and with less fabric.
His mouth covers hers and nips at her bottom lip. He plays along the hem of the tight elastic and silently curses the barrier. He quickly pulls it away and presses his thumb against her wetness. This is a different feeling for her, but definitely in a good way she mumbles against his mouth. A low, throaty laugh comes from his own mouth and he presses a finger inside her. She jerks on him and arches into his hand as the tingling spreads throughout her body. Carefully, he eases him penis free of her dangerous hands.
He watches her eyes, monitoring carefully for pain or rejection. Her big blue eyes are open but sightless, focused inward, on where his finger is carefully stroking. His thumb presses against her clit and her eyes squeeze shut, her mouth parting slightly to take in more air. His thumb swirls around, then presses again and her gasp is louder. It’s easy to pick up the rhythm, his thumb working the tiny knot of flesh, her gasp at each manipulation.
However, her eyes stay shut. He needs them open. He needs to see her reaction; he needs her to see him making her react. He works in a second finger and her eyes spring open, but they are still blind. She tries to say something but her hips abruptly jerk off the desk. His fingers are buried deep inside her and her sudden orgasm locks them in.
Now he is the one who is forced to shut his eyes as he waits out the fierce contractions. His cock throbs painfully, almost in time to her contractions as they try to milk his fingers. Somehow he manages to keep his thumb working, keeping her from coming down, extending the cycle of pleasure.
Finally she whimpers and his thumb halts its ministrations and they wait it out. They wait for her breath to stop hitching, for her body to stop convulsing and wait for his cock to stop throbbing. She does better than he does. Her body gradually relaxes but his throbbing does not subside.
She is languid and heavy eyed. She smiles as she gently strokes his rigid length with the soft pad of one finger. His breath hitches with the up-stroking movement. She wraps her fingers around the base and squeezes carefully. She tugs and he grins wryly as he allows her to lead him with his cock. But she is taking him where he so wants to be.
She guides his rock hard flesh down the same path his fingers journeyed. He works to control his breathing, but his brain isn’t listening. He’s too overcome with the sensations pulsing up and down everywhere.
He decides she is taking too long teasing him. He removes her hand and she pouts, upset at the loss of friction. He rectifies the situation by grabbing her hips and dragging her to the edge of the desk with a grunt. She gasps and purrs at his suddenly domineering personality. It’s hot and she likes it. He makes a mental note of her reaction and plans on doing it again sometime in the near future. He grabs his wallet out of his back pocket and digs through it quickly. He knows he has a condom in it somewhere. Ah ha, there it is. He snatches it out and is tearing it open with his teeth and he tosses his wallet over his shoulder. He’ll find it later. There are more important things requiring his attention. He slips it over his every growing hardness and glances up at her face. She is definitely showing no signs of regret or worry. In fact, she looks downright giddy. He can’t help but smile as he positions himself.
She intakes a sharp breath as he plunges into her. He almost explodes from her tightness as soon as he enters. He is supremely happy that he waited to do this. Right now he has thirty minutes to enjoy this feeling. He had thought about it all summer and the only thing that would make it better would be if they were in his room right now, spending the whole day doing exactly this.
As soon as he’s regained control over his bursting need he beings to move. She utters a low praise to God as he slides out of her swollen flesh. Her back arches and she grinds into him when he thrusts forward again. She quickly picks up the pace and matches his movements. She’s dreamt of this all summer long and wonders why they never did this before. She’s pretty sure it had something to do with a supposed rape and flying accusations, but right now this is too perfect to mess up with those thoughts and she pushes them away easily.
After a few long strokes he begins to pick up the pace. She dances the same rhythm as he brings her closer to her second climax. It doesn’t take long before she sobs his name and clenches around him. His eyes roll back as he works to make himself last. He swears that this will be memorable and is doing everything in his power to make it so.
She grips the edge of the desk to prevent herself from sliding off due to his continued pounding. His thrusts are coming faster and faster and she’s finding it incredibly hard to breath. She decides that she no longer wants to take in gasps of air as long as she can remain in this moment forever. It’s a much better way to die, anyway. She’s chewing on her lip and his eyes focus intently on the way she licks and nips at it. It’s enough to send him over the edge just thinking about her doing that to his body. He tells himself that they need to do this again in a more private place and take special care to focus their time doing the things she’s doing to and with her mouth.
He realizes she’s actually forming words with her wet mouth and he brain begins to registers words like his name and something that sounds strangely like love. At least he’s fairly sure it sounds like love. He’ll have to ask her later, like when he’s not about to cum.
He lets out a loud groan as his release pulses through him. His legs so weak, but he catches himself before they go out from underneath his body. His breathing is low and ragged and he has difficulty controlling it, but he’s not really concerned with it. He’s more focused on her panting body around him.
He smiles and chuckles. She asks him what’s so funny and he tells her that someone probably heard him. She laughs with him. They pull themselves together and he hides the evidence of their encounter. She doesn’t really pay attention to what he does, but she’s sure the janitor is going to have a good laugh later today when he cleans this room. He comes to stand in front of her again, shirt neatly tucked back in, he kisses her languidly. Her skin flushes pink as he pulls away and stares into her cloudless blue eyes. There is no more pain. He replaced it with something much better.
He stutters as he asks her if she wants to do something normal like get dinner and go to a movie on Friday. Her goofy grin is all he needs as an answer. He cups her face and provides her with a chaste kiss. She picks up her bag from the floor and he takes extra care to check out her ass. She crosses to the door and looks back before she exits. He smiles at her and she returns the gesture. She closes the door behind herself and takes a deep breath as she moves down the hall. She’s unable to remove the upward curve in her mouth and she really doesn’t care to try.
Wallace waits for her by his car, ready to console. He sees her stroll out of the school and realizes she’s already been consoled in ways he certainly can’t provide. She comes to stand next to him and leans against the car. He asks how it went and she tells him that it was fine. He doesn’t need her to elaborate, nor does he want her to. He smiles warmly and nudges her shoulder as he instructs her to get in the car. She nods and bounds over to the passenger side.
As she slides into the seat she realizes her posture has changed. Her chin and neck are straight. Well, she can check that off the list. As for Journalism, it probably won’t be so bad. She can mark that off as well. Who needs to make mental notes, anyway?
Author: ethereal_65
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 3,605
Summary: Senior year is starting back up and Veronica tries to cope.
A/N: Feedback always welcome. I've never posted here before. Please be gentle.
If it were anywhere but Southern California, the air could be described as cool and crisp. However, it is Southern California and the air is anything but. Here, the air is hot and muggy and downright miserable, much like her attitude - or so Wallace tells her all summer. He’s somehow convinced her that being holed up in her apartment is no way to go through life. Hiding out is not Veronica Mars’ MO, he said to her. He called her a hero and told her that the stupid 09ers can’t say anything because they all were proven wrong - on national television no less. But it isn’t them she’s afraid of, it’s him. She doesn’t tell Wallace that, but he knows it.
She promises Wallace she will return to the demented halls of Neptune High and put a hold on her plans of running off to New York to be a famous photographer, as long as he is by her side. He agrees to the terms wholeheartedly.
She steps out of her apartment and breathes the murky scent that is Neptune. For a second she thinks she missed the smell, but then thoughts of gasoline and smoke and liquor cloud her mind and she quickly decides she’s leaving the same night she graduates.
She gets out of Wallace’s car. He told her “chin up” on the way over. She tilted her head back so far she was looking at the roof of the car and asked him if it was high enough. He had a laugh. So did she, but he knew she was faking it for his benefit.
As soon as her foot hits the pavement all conversation ceases in the parking lot and all eyes are on her. Wallace’s words ring in her head. Chin up. She straightens herself and squares her shoulders. Her chin and head are another story. Her muscles don’t seem to be reacting to her brain’s command of lifting. She makes a mental note to work on that one.
She doesn’t meet anyone’s gaze and silently walks into the building. She hears the murmured conversations start before she’s even fully out of earshot. No one ever said the rich had good manners. In fact, she has evidence they don’t. Who would call murdering your son’s girlfriends proper etiquette? Well, one girlfriend and attempted murder on an ex. She muses that it’s the same difference.
She’s grateful for AP classes. She knows certain people she doesn’t want to talk to won’t be in there. As soon as she masters the navigation of the halls to all of her classes without seeing those people, the year will just breeze by. Out of sight, out of mind. There’s just one problem with that. Journalism. Well, she never really liked it all that much, anyway. She makes another mental note to talk to Clemmons about transferring out. She’s sure he’ll understand. If not, she can always blackmail him. For today, though, she’s going to have to ditch. Fifty-five minutes of being in the same room as a specific certain person is bound to cause problems. And Veronica Mars doesn’t cause problems - or at least not anymore.
She explains it partially to Wallace, but he seems to think otherwise. He calls it facing her fears. She calls it an exorcism. Whatever happens she’s sure there will be blood on the walls, at least one person dead and someone screaming that Satan made them do it. She’s fairly certain the last one will be her. She tells Wallace as much. He tells her to be the bigger man, even though she’s so short. It earns him a punch in the shoulder. He doesn’t mind, though, because he knows she’s coming around.
Wallace catches her in the hall trying to ditch Journalism. His heart almost breaks when he sees how scared she is. He tells her its okay and she nearly breaks down in the hall. He gathers her in his arms and carefully pulls her into an empty classroom. He sits her on the teacher’s desk and wipes her eyes with the cuff of his shirt. She’s nearly regained her momentary lapse in composure when there’s a knock on the classroom door. They look at each other curiously and Wallace goes to the door.
If Wallace was a little faster he probably could have slammed the door on the intruder’s hand as it reached around the jam to push the door farther open. However, as luck would have it, Wallace’s hand-eye coordination was limited to the basketball court today.
Wallace does manage to stand between a very surprised Veronica and a very disgruntled Logan. Wallace suddenly realizes this is not where he wants to be, and nor where she should be. He grabs her arm and tugs her off the desk, towards the open door.
Logan has other plans.
Logan pushes his hand into Wallace’s chest and keeps Wallace from advancing out the door with her. Wallace looks back at her, silently asking her if she wants him to kick Logan’s ass. Shockingly, though, she shakes her head. She’s taking his advice. She’s facing her fears and being the bigger person. Wallace curses himself for trying to be helpful and sagely. Finally, Wallace releases his hold on her arm and retreats from the room.
Wordlessly Logan closes the door behind Wallace and rests his head against it. She hears the soft snick of the lock as he bolts the door. She prepares herself for the razor sharp lashes that will come spewing out of his mouth at any moment. He shocks her, though. He whispers that he’s missed her. She asks him to repeat it because she isn’t sure she heard him correctly. He smiles. She can’t see it because he’s still not facing her, but she can hear it. A weight lifts from her chest.
After what seems like eternity he turns to her. He repeats himself, making sure he enunciates every syllable and sound. She almost laughs at his blatant attempt to lighten the situation. She takes a step forward and tells him she almost didn’t come back. He mirrors her step and tells her he knows. She takes another step and tells him she’s sorry. Again he mirrors her movements and tells her he knows. She takes her last step and tells him she missed him, too. He closes the gap so that their faces are inches apart. He tells her he didn’t know that.
His breath is warm on her face and, happily, alcohol free. He places his hand delicately on her cheek and his fingers carefully trace along her chin, his eyes mesmerized by the pattern his hand is drawing. His fingertips brush along the edge of her lips, causing them to curve into a sad smile. His brow creases and he frowns. His eyes move up to meet her blue oceanic orbs and read them to find the heart of her melancholy. He finds his answer reflecting back at him. He sees himself. He shuts his eyes tight to keep from seeing the pain he’s caused her.
She reaches up her hand and strokes across his cheek, causing his eyes to open slowly. It’s her way of telling him that it wasn’t just him and she definitely doesn’t blame him. The sadness is still so strong, though, and he longs to replace it with something better.
He slowly bends his head down to her and lightly brushes his lips to hers, testing his boundaries. She gratefully presses closer to him, accepting his peace offering. She wants to tell him that everything will be okay, but he has other plans for the mouth he remembers so painfully well. He silences her with his swift movements and presses his lips firmly to hers. She graciously opens her mouth to his attack and his tongue slides in unobstructed.
His arms reach around her tiny waist and hold her body tightly. Her hands move up his arms, around his shoulders and clasp around his neck when they meet. As soon as she’s secured herself to his body he immediately lifts her from the ground, desperate to continue feeling her beneath his fingers. He tells her as much and she says she knows. He laughs and asks if she’s making fun of him. She instantly stops her oral assault and looks him dead in the eyes. She wants the same thing she replies adamantly. He doesn’t need to be told twice.
He finds that special spot on her neck that he remembers so well. The spot, where if he kissed and sucked it, would cause her to gasp and sigh at the same time. He spent the summer thinking about that spot. He’d stare at it for hours whenever her beautiful face graced the cover of some trashy tabloid. He longed to touch that spot again, even just for a moment. And here he was, kissing that very spot. He couldn’t help but smile at his luck.
She felt him grinning into her neck and she asks him why. He tells her she is the reason. At that moment she produces her most genuine smile. She has no witty retort, but he doesn’t need one, either.
Her hands rest on his shoulders as he sets her down on the desk. He skims along her sides, relishing the feeling of her soft skin. She quips that if he keeps rubbing the same spot she’ll be raw. He can’t help but be turned on when she says it. He thinks that that spot isn’t the only place he’d like to rub raw. She laughs when his inner monologue is spoken. He at least has the decency to blush. She doesn’t mind, though, because she has the same thoughts.
With her reveal his eyes darken as his fingers dance up her skin and tickle her ribs. She bites her lower lip and looks at him through her lashes in a way he finds incredibly sexy. He’s vaguely aware that as he is pushing her back onto the desk, but she isn’t stopping him. His mouth descends onto hers and he is devouring her from the inside out. She is desperately fisting the collar of his shirt and pulling him closer still.
He regretfully removes one hand from her body and takes a swipe at the top of the desk. She barely notices, however, because the hand that is still on her is inching its way higher, pushing her shirt up along with it. Only when his other hand is back on her skin does she feel the cool wood against her back. The sudden drop in temperature against her causes her body to react, sending goose bumps rushing across her pale skin. They disappear as quickly as they came as he flicks the closure of her bra open. A gasp escapes her mouth when his fingertips brush, ever so gently, over her aroused nipple.
Then he gets that trademark smirk. He tells her he’s glad he isn’t the only one who is enjoying himself. He grinds against her so that she knows exactly what he’s talking about. She doesn’t need clarification, but is certainly thankful for it. Now it’s her turn to smirk.
He wonders what she’s up to as her hands trail to the edge of his pants. She runs them lightly around his waist and it tickles him slightly, but excites him even more. He bites the section of neck his mouth is working and she groans from the sensation. The little noises she makes cause his body to react in arousal, almost painfully so. If he doesn’t get relief soon he’ll be forced to ditch the rest of school and lock himself in his room for a few hours. Because, yes, fantasies involving Veronica Mars always take hours. He knows this because he’s spent a good portion of his time consumed by this new hobby, though it has nothing on the real thing.
He’s so caught up in the sensations that are zipping through his brain that he barely has time to comprehend them. There’s one sensation, though, that reverberates through his brain when she somehow manages to unzip his pants without him noticing, and now she’s wrapped her hands around his rigid erection. That one almost makes him stop, just so he can relish the feeling - almost.
His hands move of their own volition and find their way to her exposed thigh. He is incredibly grateful for skirts, even sensible skirts like this one. Easy access is the only thought that comes to mind. He lets his nails drag along the inside of her thigh to the edge of her sensible panties, sending shivers up her body. He notes to himself that he needs to buy her something less sensible and with less fabric.
His mouth covers hers and nips at her bottom lip. He plays along the hem of the tight elastic and silently curses the barrier. He quickly pulls it away and presses his thumb against her wetness. This is a different feeling for her, but definitely in a good way she mumbles against his mouth. A low, throaty laugh comes from his own mouth and he presses a finger inside her. She jerks on him and arches into his hand as the tingling spreads throughout her body. Carefully, he eases him penis free of her dangerous hands.
He watches her eyes, monitoring carefully for pain or rejection. Her big blue eyes are open but sightless, focused inward, on where his finger is carefully stroking. His thumb presses against her clit and her eyes squeeze shut, her mouth parting slightly to take in more air. His thumb swirls around, then presses again and her gasp is louder. It’s easy to pick up the rhythm, his thumb working the tiny knot of flesh, her gasp at each manipulation.
However, her eyes stay shut. He needs them open. He needs to see her reaction; he needs her to see him making her react. He works in a second finger and her eyes spring open, but they are still blind. She tries to say something but her hips abruptly jerk off the desk. His fingers are buried deep inside her and her sudden orgasm locks them in.
Now he is the one who is forced to shut his eyes as he waits out the fierce contractions. His cock throbs painfully, almost in time to her contractions as they try to milk his fingers. Somehow he manages to keep his thumb working, keeping her from coming down, extending the cycle of pleasure.
Finally she whimpers and his thumb halts its ministrations and they wait it out. They wait for her breath to stop hitching, for her body to stop convulsing and wait for his cock to stop throbbing. She does better than he does. Her body gradually relaxes but his throbbing does not subside.
She is languid and heavy eyed. She smiles as she gently strokes his rigid length with the soft pad of one finger. His breath hitches with the up-stroking movement. She wraps her fingers around the base and squeezes carefully. She tugs and he grins wryly as he allows her to lead him with his cock. But she is taking him where he so wants to be.
She guides his rock hard flesh down the same path his fingers journeyed. He works to control his breathing, but his brain isn’t listening. He’s too overcome with the sensations pulsing up and down everywhere.
He decides she is taking too long teasing him. He removes her hand and she pouts, upset at the loss of friction. He rectifies the situation by grabbing her hips and dragging her to the edge of the desk with a grunt. She gasps and purrs at his suddenly domineering personality. It’s hot and she likes it. He makes a mental note of her reaction and plans on doing it again sometime in the near future. He grabs his wallet out of his back pocket and digs through it quickly. He knows he has a condom in it somewhere. Ah ha, there it is. He snatches it out and is tearing it open with his teeth and he tosses his wallet over his shoulder. He’ll find it later. There are more important things requiring his attention. He slips it over his every growing hardness and glances up at her face. She is definitely showing no signs of regret or worry. In fact, she looks downright giddy. He can’t help but smile as he positions himself.
She intakes a sharp breath as he plunges into her. He almost explodes from her tightness as soon as he enters. He is supremely happy that he waited to do this. Right now he has thirty minutes to enjoy this feeling. He had thought about it all summer and the only thing that would make it better would be if they were in his room right now, spending the whole day doing exactly this.
As soon as he’s regained control over his bursting need he beings to move. She utters a low praise to God as he slides out of her swollen flesh. Her back arches and she grinds into him when he thrusts forward again. She quickly picks up the pace and matches his movements. She’s dreamt of this all summer long and wonders why they never did this before. She’s pretty sure it had something to do with a supposed rape and flying accusations, but right now this is too perfect to mess up with those thoughts and she pushes them away easily.
After a few long strokes he begins to pick up the pace. She dances the same rhythm as he brings her closer to her second climax. It doesn’t take long before she sobs his name and clenches around him. His eyes roll back as he works to make himself last. He swears that this will be memorable and is doing everything in his power to make it so.
She grips the edge of the desk to prevent herself from sliding off due to his continued pounding. His thrusts are coming faster and faster and she’s finding it incredibly hard to breath. She decides that she no longer wants to take in gasps of air as long as she can remain in this moment forever. It’s a much better way to die, anyway. She’s chewing on her lip and his eyes focus intently on the way she licks and nips at it. It’s enough to send him over the edge just thinking about her doing that to his body. He tells himself that they need to do this again in a more private place and take special care to focus their time doing the things she’s doing to and with her mouth.
He realizes she’s actually forming words with her wet mouth and he brain begins to registers words like his name and something that sounds strangely like love. At least he’s fairly sure it sounds like love. He’ll have to ask her later, like when he’s not about to cum.
He lets out a loud groan as his release pulses through him. His legs so weak, but he catches himself before they go out from underneath his body. His breathing is low and ragged and he has difficulty controlling it, but he’s not really concerned with it. He’s more focused on her panting body around him.
He smiles and chuckles. She asks him what’s so funny and he tells her that someone probably heard him. She laughs with him. They pull themselves together and he hides the evidence of their encounter. She doesn’t really pay attention to what he does, but she’s sure the janitor is going to have a good laugh later today when he cleans this room. He comes to stand in front of her again, shirt neatly tucked back in, he kisses her languidly. Her skin flushes pink as he pulls away and stares into her cloudless blue eyes. There is no more pain. He replaced it with something much better.
He stutters as he asks her if she wants to do something normal like get dinner and go to a movie on Friday. Her goofy grin is all he needs as an answer. He cups her face and provides her with a chaste kiss. She picks up her bag from the floor and he takes extra care to check out her ass. She crosses to the door and looks back before she exits. He smiles at her and she returns the gesture. She closes the door behind herself and takes a deep breath as she moves down the hall. She’s unable to remove the upward curve in her mouth and she really doesn’t care to try.
Wallace waits for her by his car, ready to console. He sees her stroll out of the school and realizes she’s already been consoled in ways he certainly can’t provide. She comes to stand next to him and leans against the car. He asks how it went and she tells him that it was fine. He doesn’t need her to elaborate, nor does he want her to. He smiles warmly and nudges her shoulder as he instructs her to get in the car. She nods and bounds over to the passenger side.
As she slides into the seat she realizes her posture has changed. Her chin and neck are straight. Well, she can check that off the list. As for Journalism, it probably won’t be so bad. She can mark that off as well. Who needs to make mental notes, anyway?