The Flight

the flight pap shot

The Flight

Actor Chris Evans shares a flight with an angry seat mate…

Chris Evans and OFC (Reader)

Warnings: NSFW, fingering, exhibitionism

Word Count: 2150

When I see my seat mate for the next several hours, I groan under my breath.  I ask him, “I thought you and Scott were switching seats?”

“No, he and Shanna started a new game on his tablet while we were waiting, and they decided to sit together,” he says.  “Are you okay with that?”

I shrugged my shoulders, trying to contain my frown.  “Just keep your big muscly arms off my arm rest, and don’t talk too much.  I’m tired.”  To accentuate my point, I yawn as I reach down to get gum and hand lotion out of my bag.  I offer him a piece, and he gladly accepts it.  He sees the small bottle of lotion in my lap and raises an eyebrow.  I ignore him.  I’m just not in the mood.  My bag doesn’t want to fit under the seat, so I give it a kick and I make it fit.

“Bad day?” he asks with a chuckle.

“My boyfriend and I had a fight this morning before saying goodbye,” I grumble.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks, curiously.

“No, I don’t want to talk about it.  I’d rather be grumpy and wallow for a while.”  I pull my headphones out of my pocket, watching him place the gum slowly in his mouth.  He turns to smirk at me, and I know he caught me looking.

“Asshole,” I remark.

He chuckles.

I pull the current copy of Sky Mall catalog out of the seat pocket in front of me, and turn on my headset.  I can see him playing with his phone, and true to his word, he does his best to keep to his side of the arm rest.  He laughs that I actually pay attention to the announcements from the flight attendant right before take-off.

“You gonna be okay?” he asks, his voice full of concern.

“Yea, I just hate to fly,” I say.  I smile when I think back to my first plane ride as a little girl.  I remember sitting with my mom and nearly crushing her hand.  I can see him watching me out of the corner of my eye, and I wipe the smile from my face.  I turn my attention back to the magazine, and pray silently that this flight seems faster than it actually is.

As flights go, it isn’t too bad.  He falls asleep shortly after take- off, avoiding small talk with me, and for this I am grateful.  In sleep, I can admire his beauty.  There really is no other word for him.  His dark eyelashes grace his pale cheeks, and the stubble is starting to grow back in from a recent smooth shave.  His scent is intoxicating, and I hate that it makes me feel things I don’t want to feel right now.  I don’t want to think these things about him.  His strong arms are folded across his chest, and I can admire the veining in his arms, for reasons…  I chuckle to myself as the attendant bumps my elbow with the beverage cart.  “Son of a bitch,” I whisper under my breath as I rub my elbow.

He stirs and says, sleepily, “Can ya get me a rum and Coke?” and then has the nerve to drift back to sleep.

While the attendant takes care of the family seated across the aisle, I reach under the seat in front of me and pull out my portfolio.  I plan to use the time to try to get a little work done, but I can already start to feel the need for sleep to take over.  It’s been a long week of travel, and I just want to get back home to my own bed.  I pull out my blanket too.

He wakes again when I sit his drink on the tray in front of him and he sleepily pulls two candy bars out of his bag and offers me one.  “Thanks,” I say, not wanting to be rude.

“I hate your blanket,” he grumbles.

I knew he would. The giant yellow symbol in the middle of a black field annoys the hell out of him.  I can almost feel his irritation.  That’s why I brought it along for the flight.  “Ya know, there are other comics besides Marvel…”

“Not good ones,” he scowls.

I feel him watching me as I put the strawberry scented lotion on my hands.  I hate the dried out feeling I get from the pressurized air in the cabin.   I roll my eyes when I hear a small groan escape his lips.  Great.  I just need lotion for my dry skin, and he’s getting turned on, watching me massage my own hands.  I don’t want him to think those things about me, goddammit.   I put the lotion in the seat next to me, and turn my attention back to my club soda.

He asks me a few questions and we make small talk.  I try to ignore him, but this time, he isn’t so easy to get rid of.  “What are you working on?”

“Just some editing that came in the other day.  The company wants to look at the manuscript my friend wrote.  Since I talked it up so much, they want me to baby it and carry it along.”

He raises his eyebrow.  “Is it any good?”

I smile.  He knows I work as an editor at a publishing company, but I don’t think he really understands what I do.  I laugh.  “I wouldn’t try to build my name at work if I didn’t think she didn’t deserve to be published.  She’s worked and trained her craft for years, and has really proven herself worthy of a published work.  I’ve been reading her work since the beginning and I’d like to be there when she hits big.”

His hand shakes his glass of rum and Coke, hitting the ice against the sides, causing it to clink.  He sits the glass down and looks at me seductively.  “She’s lucky to have you for a friend.”

I can see his hands starting to move across his tray, inching closer to mine, and I move my hands away, opening the file and placing it in front of me to begin reading.  Again, not wanting to be rude, I quietly answer.  “Thanks, but I’m the lucky one.  She’s a great friend. And this writing is very… inspirational.”

He looks at my quizzically as I try to hide my laughter at my loaded comment.  I pretend I don’t see him, and I begin to lose myself in my work, editing for spelling, grammar and inconsistencies in the story.  I check my phone and realize we have barely made it half way through the flight, and I sigh deeply.  The cabin is cold and the air makes me congested.  I feel my eyes getting heavy, so I put my pen down and close the manuscript.  I shift in the seat, trying to get more comfortable.  I close my eyes…

I wake when I feel his hand on my waist.  His hands are warm and soft.  I can smell strawberries.  He put the lotion on his hands?  His strong fingers inch across my belly, and he whispers my name.  I try not to acknowledge him, but I’m sure my breathing gives me away.  Damn him.  He gently kneads the soft spot on my belly that won’t tighten no matter how many sit-ups I do.  “That was interesting reading,” he says quietly.  “I’m wondering if it had the same effect on you that it’s had on me.”

I sigh.  I should have put it back in my bag.  He knows I’m awake now.  I should stop him, but I don’t want to.  I wanna know just how far he is willing to go.   I feel his fingers dip down below the waist of my leggings, sliding along the top of my panties.  I bite my lip to hold back a smile.  I shouldn’t let him do this…  He continues to run his fingers slowly down to my silky covered mound.   I want to turn and watch him, but I keep my eyes closed.

“You’re so warm,” he growls quietly against my neck, his scruff tickling me.  I jump, not knowing he was so close and he chuckles.  “I bet you’re hot and wet.”  His fingers nimbly shove the fabric to the side, slowly dipping his longest finger inside, no pretense at being gentle.   He is met with an already pooling wetness, infuriatingly caused simply by being near him.  I can hear his sigh and a change in his breathing as well.  I try not to gasp and draw attention to us.  “So perfect,” he barely breathes out against my ear.

“Shh… Shut up,” I respond, shaking my head.

He chuckles again.  Insufferable asshole.  I should have made him trade seats with Scott.  This is not what I want but I can’t bring myself to stop him or the way my body betrays me.  He shifts in his seat so his arm can have more freedom to move under the blanket.  And he uses that to his advantage, slowly sliding deep in and out, avoiding my clit.  He pulls the wet up with a hooked finger and slides it over my outer lips, pushing against them, tugging at my skin.   The wide span of his large hand allows his other fingers to caress against my thighs at the same time.  A jolt washes through me, and I choke back a groan.  My head drops to the left, resting against his, and he breaths against my neck.

He varies the rhythm to which he enters and pulls out, sometimes fast and sometimes slow, sometimes gentle, sometimes rough.  He leans forward, as though he dropped something on the floor, changing his position to enter me even deeper as he slides in a second finger.  My breath catches as I am once again caught unaware by his movements.  His digits remain deep as they continue to penetrate me, and scissor back and forth.  I can sense a swelling and feel myself dripping around him, worrying the seat under me might be getting wet.  I squeeze my walls around him and he begins to grind his palm against me.  His arm across my chest holds me in place as I thrust up, aching to finish.  A small squeak escapes from my lips and he murmurs, “Come for me.”

His velveteen voice adds to my need to release.  A few more thrusts of his middle finger along with his other fingers squeezing my outer lips, and I rise up for one push against his palm.  My orgasm breaks and I squeeze his fingers tight as I come all over his hand.  He slows up his movements, matching my breathing as I come back down, slowly sliding his fingers out and repositioning my now dripping panties.  He gently rubs his palm over my covered mound.  He slides his hand up slowly, and I can tell he is wiping my juices off on the inside of my leggings. His hand slides back across my belly as he removes his hands from under my clothes and he pulls his hand out from under the blanket.

From the corner of my eye, I can see him raise his hand to his mouth, and as I bite my lip from his additional tease, I watch as he licks away the remaining drops of my sweet cream.  He steals the blanket and wipes his hands, and I pray my scent is not overpowering in the plane cabin.

I can’t bring myself to look at him.  I try to hide my smile and pretend nothing happened.  He goes back to his phone, and I go back to my manuscript.  It is now full of post-it notes where he made notations as he was reading.  Fucker, I quietly chuckle.

My phone buzzes and I read the message on the screen:

ARE YOU STILL MAD AT ME? OR DID THAT CHANGE YOUR MIND? LOVE, C

I grin when I see him watching me out of the corner of my eye.  I text back:

I SAW THE FACE YOU MADE. FORGOT YOU HAD THE STRAWBERRY LOTION ON YOUR HANDS TOO, DIDN’T YOU?  I MIGHT STILL BE MAD. LET’S MEET IN THE BATHROOM AND SEE IF WE CAN RESOLVE ANY ISSUES. LOVE, ME

*****************

Notes: I hate the cover is a pap shot. But it was the only picture I could find that perfectly fit this story.  Please forgive me!  A special thanks to my best girl and beta  thewife101.  It seems like I wrote it for you, but I was needing some hand work at the time!   Thanks for your guidance!

Copyright © 2016 avenger-nerd-mom. All rights reserved. Intellectual property of avenger-nerd-mom

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3 thoughts on “The Flight

  1. devikafernando July 22, 2016 / 4:39 am

    Naughty and nice all at once! 😉

    Liked by 1 person

  2. avenger-nerd-mom July 22, 2016 / 4:55 am

    How strange! Thewife and I were JUST talking about this story! I’m so glad you like it!

    Like

    • devikafernando July 22, 2016 / 4:59 am

      Telepathy! 😀 *waves at wifey too*

      Liked by 1 person

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