Boots

Educating Thalia

Collaboration by @devikafernando & @avenger-nerd-mom

AU FICTION

Chapter 34

A collaboration involving Professor Hiddleston and Professor Evans- The two are rivals at a posh New England university and have no idea they both have taken interest in the lovely Thalia Bareo. She’s a grad student with interests in language and history; a sassy full-figured Puerto Rican girl from Chicago.  Story updates are posted on Wednesdays and Sundays.

Word count: 4233

Warnings:  Language, Adult Situations, NSFW, bdsm, dominant personalities, sub, oral sex, condom use, intercourse

Summary:  A wild creature wakes Tom in the middle of the night…

Images found on Pinterest.  Gif created by avenger-nerd-mom on imgflip.com from those images

Click here for intro to Educating Thalia

Something has woken Tom up, but he isn’t quite sure what. Lying on his back with his head on his arms, he blinks into the dark with a slight frown. Was it a dream? A sound outside? Did he imagine a knock at his door in that groggy state of barely having been asleep for a few hours?

The second knock on the door is persistent and unmistakable.  It wasn’t some random outside noise.  Someone is at his front door.  Springing from the bed, Tom bangs his hip on the dresser and curses quietly as he exits the room. He jogs down the stairs quietly.  It’s well past midnight and he can only think of one person he’d want to be at his door at this ungodly time, but he doesn’t feel he could be that lucky.  His heart races, wondering if there’s some kind of trouble, or just a case of ‘wrong house’ by a local drunk.

Peering through the peephole on the door, he is elated to see Thalia standing on the other side.  Wearing a long coat, she has her hands shoved down in her pockets and her hair swept to the side in a loose knot.  Quickly unlocking the door, it flies open and he motions her in.  “Thalia, darling, what? What are you doing here so late?  Is everything okay?”  He caresses her arm tenderly, his eyes frantically scanning her face and hidden body for anything that might be amiss.

He looks down the street and doesn’t see her cute little junker car.  “Where’s your car?”

She brushes past him, her manicured nails scraping across his chest in his tight black V-neck t-shirt, eyeing his plaid pants.

“Sleep in pajamas, do you, Thomas?”

Thomas.  This is new.  So is showing up at his house.  She’s never been to his home before. He wasn’t even sure until now that she knew his address. His heart gives an excited flip in his chest.

Closing the door and flipping on the hallway lamp, he asks her again, “Are you okay?”

Dropping her bag by the side table, her eyes wander around the open layout of the entry way and adjoining living room, and her wild eyes lock on his.  “I got an Uber ride.  No one will know I’m here… I missed you. And I wanted to see how you live.”  She smiles up at him, stepping closer.  “Didn’t you miss me?”

Like a spring, his body responds to her words and he steps closer as well, closing the gap between them.  Her hands grab at the hem of his shirt and she reaches up on the toes of her well-worn cowboy boots.  “You leave me lonely at night.  Dreams, memories… my hands and my toys aren’t always enough.” His pulse starts hammering at the images that conjures up, but before he can even process them, she adds, “Tonight, I wanted you.”

Her lips press against his, hot and slick.  His mouth falls open and her tongue brushes against his before flicking against his teeth.  In her low rasp that wraps around his gut every time, she murmurs, “I hope you don’t mind…”

She moves away and pulls open the sash of her coat, revealing her naked form. Holy shit, she’s clad only in her boots. His cock twitches to life instantly, reacting to all those luscious curves so decadently on display. It takes his scrambled brain a moment to catch up with the rest of his body, his hands already reaching for her.

“Thalia…” He drags his eyes up from her ample bosom to her eyes, taking in the mischievous twinkle in them. “Good Lord, woman, you’re going to be the death of me.”

Hands shaking a little, he grabs the coat lapels and moves the chilled fabric completely off her body.

“You must be freezing,” he worries, only now remembering how bitingly cold it is outside. Hell, his bare feet on the floor feel like ice chunks, so how bad must it be for her?

She grins at him, stepping willingly into his embrace and nuzzling his throat where his pulse is galloping even faster now.

“I kept myself warm with thoughts about you and what you would do to me…what I want to do to you.”

Fuck. Tom wraps her in his big, strong arms and hauls her close. Her body is indeed a bit cold, and he rubs his hands soothingly over her bare back. As if on its own volition, one hand wanders lower to knead a butt cheek, and she sighs against his neck before scraping her teeth over his collar bone.

He’s rock hard already, and it doesn’t help that she’s rubbing herself against him. With her in those trusty, oddly sexy boots and with him barefoot, she’s the perfect height, and the warmth of her pussy, already damp, brushes against his cock.

With a hiss, Tom draws back, but she gives him no chance to say anything. All reprimands and questions die in his throat when she claims his mouth again.

Dimly it registers in his brain how take-charge she is tonight, as if some wanton nymph’s spirit has entered her body in her sleep and lured her here. It’s a huge turn-on, although he’s not quite sure what’s expected of him.

As if she can read his thoughts, Thalia pulls back a fraction. She slicks her tongue over his lower lip, then sinks her teeth into it and tugs softly, the way he usually does to her. One of her hands reaches up to rub over the beginning night scruff on his jaw, and a spark lights her eyes at the feel of it.

“I want that stubble all over me tonight,” she demands, her face flushed and her body now warm. “I want to feel it against my breasts and across my belly. I want to have delicious beard burn on my thighs.”

Jesus freaking Christ, who is this tantalizingly confident woman and what has she done with his good little girl?

Maybe a bit of his confusion–mostly overpowered by raging desire–has shown on his face, or maybe she’s surprised by her own behavior, but for a moment, Thalia hesitates and her eyes grow wide and vulnerable.

“Tom?” She gnaws on her lip and he soothes her, stroking up her arm over her shoulders and neck before tugging her hair free of its band.

“Yes, darling?”

“Can we…can I…I need…”

She falters, and somehow, he understands. He knows just what she feels and needs. This loneliness, this longing she’s mentioned, it’s inside his heart too, and he’d do anything to lessen it.

“You want me to hand over the reins to you, my beautiful hothouse orchid? Is that what my woman wants tonight, hm?”

He deliberately doesn’t call her ‘my girl’, and what’s said between the lines makes her eyes go dark again. Her tongue darts out to wet her lips, and her spine straightens as one of his hands on the small of her back pulls her close again.

“Yes.”

“Then I’ll be yours for the night.” Tom gives her a slow, almost predatory smile that is at odds with his words, and he feels her shiver in delight.

Wondering how far she’ll take her little jab at being a domme, he steps back and lets her go.

“Where and how do you want me?”

Thalia seems to grow two inches taller with the control he’s placed in her hands.

“Where’s your room?”

He jerks his head up towards the left, feeling himself grow even harder at the prospect of what’s to come.

“Take me upstairs.”

He turns and leads the way, repressing the urge to take her hand because it would somehow ruin the moment.

Once they’re in the bedroom, his hand hesitates over the light switch. She makes the decision for him, hitting the switch and letting him drink her in.

God, she’s magnificent. He wants her beneath him, around him, wants to lose himself inside her very being. But he orders himself to hold back and let her play out her fantasy tonight. He’s always known she has a wilder side hidden away, and it’s thrilling to watch it flicker to life.

Thalia bridges the short distance between them. She grabs his t-shirt and pulls it up, leaving his chest bare for her to touch. Her fingers trace over his pecs, circling his nipples and making him bite back a moan. They wander lower, her fingertips skimming over his abs and Adonis belt, slipping beneath the elastic of his pajamas without touching him where he wants her most.

For a second, her gaze stops in its reverent study of his body to scan the room. It slides over the bare furniture, over all the books lying everywhere, his glasses on the nightstand; over the bed and to the chair in front of his book-laden desk.

Tom nearly stumbles when she pushes him backwards with her palms on his chest and another mischievous gleam in her eyes. Obediently, he walks back until the back of his knees knocks against the chair. He sits down in his usual way, his legs spread a mile wide. His eyes never leave hers while a smirk lifts his lips.

“Are you gonna try some rodeo ridin’, cowgirl?” he asks, attempting his best imitation of an American drawl.

A startled laugh escapes her before she pulls herself together and presses a hand against his mouth. “Shsh,” she silences him, and he feels his cock twitch at her assertiveness.

“Maybe later,” she says, stepping so close that there’s barely an inch between his face and her round belly. “If you’re really good to me.”

He’s so turned on by now he can’t even smirk anymore. He wants more, needs all of her, in any way she’s willing to let him have her.

“Kiss me, Thomas,” she demands huskily, one hand cupping the back of his head and pushing him close so his lips touch her stomach.

All too happily, Tom obliges. He takes his time, remembering her whisker burn comment and brushing his chin and jaw over the soft skin of her belly while he kisses every inch of skin he can reach. Her fingers spear into the short hair at his nape, tugging a little to move his head up, down, left and right. Tom shifts in the chair, longing for a taste of her breasts or of her pussy, so close and shiny with desire. He can smell her arousal, and it’s going straight to his head and his cock.

“May I touch you?” he asks, his voice a low growl that has her shivering again.

“Yes. But don’t stop kissing me.” Her voice is breathless, but she manages to hold onto the slightly commanding tone she’s never used with him before.

Hungry for more, Tom scoots to the edge of the chair and places one hand at her waist while the other moves up to mold her large breast. Thalia gasps and he moves his attention to her pebbled nipple while he opens his mouth to make the kisses all over her stomach wetter. Using his teeth and his tongue along with his lips, he torments her by moving lower but never crossing the invisible border to pay attention to her quivering center.

His hand on her waist moves lower and back so he can fondle her butt. His fingers dive into the crease between her cheeks, stroking ever so softly while he dips his tongue into her belly button. With a whimper, her grip on his hair tightens to the point of pain, but it only heightens his arousal.

When a long finger dips to circle her most private place, she yanks his head lower. Tom takes the hint eagerly and strokes his tongue over her glistening lips to lap at her, dive into her like a starving man.

“Slowly. Go slooooow,” she demands, her words drawn-out moans with not as much determination behind them as a true domme would show it.

Tom changes his attention on her pussy to long, languid drags of his tongue over all of her, spreading her juices around but never quite touching her engorged clit. He rubs his jaw against her inner thigh, giving her the prickly friction she’s asked for and making her moan some more.

He loses all track of time. God, he could sit here all night, eating her out, listening to all those different sounds she makes when he adds tentative sucks on her outer and inner lips to his slow, thorough licks.

“More. Make me come.”

Her command strikes him like lightning, and he can feel himself leak precum, his painfully erect cock begging for attention.

His other hand joins the one on her ass so he can hold her close and open, and he finally goes for her clit. He sucks the throbbing bundle of nerves into his mouth and tortures it with his tongue and then gently with his teeth until she comes, half sobbing, half screaming his name.

Her thighs are trembling, and she has both hands fisted in his hair, making his scalp tingle. It’s a miracle she’s still standing upright.

Tom’s ability to think rationally is going out the window. He has half a mind to turn the tables, haul her caveman-style over his shoulder and have his way with her in the bed–but he uses his last ounce of self-control to indulge her.

Returning to slow, caressing licks, he eases her down from her climax and waits for her to step back or give him another order.

Her voice is even rougher when she moves her hands from his head to his shoulders and pushes him gently to say, “Now sit back and enjoy.”

As soon as his back hits the wood, Thalia sinks to her knees between his spread legs, and his cock twitches in anticipation. She pulls at his waistband and he lifts his hips so she can slide the pajama bottoms over his butt and down his legs before removing them. He watches with burning desire, a healthy dose of admiration and a tiny hint of amusement as she places his hands on the armrests and curls his fingers around them.

“Keep your hands there. Don’t move.”

“Yes, mistress,” he replies, two words he hasn’t spoken in years, since that one time he tried being a sub.

Thalia freezes, her eyes shooting up from his needy cock to his face, her pupils blown as wide as his must be. The oddest expression crosses her face, something like a secretive, purely feminine smile that has a decidedly wild edge to it and stokes the fire inside him.

Mesmerized, Tom stares at the transformation, but the expression is gone a moment later. Her long lashes sweep down, hiding her intense gaze from him.

“Keep your eyes on me,” she orders, but there’s a tremble in her voice. “I want you to watch me.”

Licking his lips and sucking in a fortifying breath, Tom braces himself. But he still isn’t prepared for her hot, wet mouth engulfing him and sinking down as far as she can go.

“Fuck, Thalia,” he curses, feeling for a panicky moment like a teenager who’s about to blow his load before things have even started. He hasn’t expected her to go straight for the gold, and he’s clenching his jaw so tightly it hurts.

She hums around him, which only makes matters worse. Only when her hands settle on his thighs and push down does he realize that he’s arched up to shove himself even deeper into her oh so welcoming mouth.

Using all his willpower, he lets her hold him down and keeps a white-knuckled grip on the armrest. Thalia starts bobbing up and down on his shaft once he’s settled down. She alternates between taking him deep and sucking only his tip, reducing him to a panting, groaning mess.

Enraptured, he watches her drive him to the brink while one of her hands leaves his thigh to slink between her legs and touch herself. Fucking hell, he’s pretty sure he’s never seen anything hotter than her sucking him off while pleasuring herself, a whimper off and on traveling straight through his cock to tighten his balls.

Just when he wants to break the silence and tell her he’s too damn close, she stops and lets him slide out with a wet pop. She stands up on wobbly legs, and before he can stop himself, he drags her close. He grabs the hand she’s had between her own legs and sucks her glistening fingers into her mouth, watching her eyes roll back.

With his other hand he fumbles behind him, reaching into the desk drawer for a condom. Taking it from him, she rolls it over him slowly as her hands tenderly caress his aching sac.

When she straddles him instead of punishing him for taking the initiative, he needs to pull in desperate drags of air so he won’t lose it.

“Ride me, cowgirl,” he growls, and for the moment, Thalia seems to have forgotten she’s the one in charge. Automatically, she scoots into position. Tom lines himself up with one hand, wrapping his other hand around the back of her neck to pull her in for a scorching kiss. He slides his tongue into her mouth at the same time he pushes up into her heat. She’s so slick he glides in easily until he bumps against her cervix, and both of them moan in unison.

Tom holds himself still, and he’s astonished he manages to do so.

Thalia’s eyes flutter open, and for a moment, they stay like this, connected and lost in each other. Then she begins to move, and his last bit of resolve flies out the window. Her hips rise and fall, circle and writhe. She grinds herself down on him with keening whimpers which tear through his self-control and make him want to pound into her like an animal.

He buries his face against her chest, kissing and panting and cursing, praying for her to climax soon because he can’t hold on long. When she clenches repeatedly around him and then goes utterly still on a choked sound, Tom grits his teeth and rides out her orgasm through sheer force of will.

He grabs her hips, his fingers digging in hard enough to leave bruises.

“Get up, turn around and straddle me again,” he urges her, hardly recognizing his own voice and caring not one bit whether she wants her control back or not.

Thalia moves as if in a trance, doing exactly as he says. It takes her a moment to find the right position with her back pressed to his chest, but then she’s back on his lap and takes him in until her gorgeous ass rests against his balls. A squeak and then a drawn-out moan let him know that she’s never experienced it like this before, with him hitting angles inside her that are enough to drive her up, up, up again.

This time when she comes, he follows right behind, with a shout that echoes in the nightly stillness.

He disentangles them after some moments and rises with her in his arms. Quickly, he strides to the bed, once again carrying her as if she weighs next to nothing. She rests her head against his shoulder until he sets her down on sheets, sweaty and sated with an almost serene look on her beautifully flushed face. Before he joins her on the bed, he kisses her calves and takes her boots off.

“Goddammit, darling, that was mind blowing. I feel as if some sort of succubus decided to haunt me tonight.” He scoots up and pulls her close.

She chuckles sleepily against his chest while he brushes his hands through her unruly tresses and spreads out her hair over his arm and the pillow.

“Yeah… I have half a mind to buy you a pair of cowboy boots and a trenchcoat so you can return the favor one day.”

It’s his turn to chuckle. She snuggles into his hold, and Tom kisses her temple and forces himself not to think about if and when she will get up and leave.

#

The next morning, she is still in his bed when he returns from his run.  The air felt like springtime, or maybe that was just the light residual feeling Thalia’s shocking visit left inside him.  Laying on the couch in the study, he relishes in the small sounds she makes in his house as she gets ready to start her day.  He can’t concentrate on the words of the paper he holds in front of him, nor hide his grin at her bounding down the stairs.

“Tom?” she calls, sounding again like his little girl.  “Where are you?”

“Down the hall, in the den,” he offers by way of direction.

He watches her enter the room and he swears the sunlight coming in the windows shines brighter at her presence.  She smiles warmly to him, wearing her own tight fitting jeans and the t-shirt he was wearing the night before.  Stretched tightly over her voluptuous chest, he can’t help but tease.  “A prize from your conquest?” he taunts.

“Damn right. I earned it.”  Her fingers drag over the spines of the books on the shelves, turning to him with a wicked smile.  “Don’t you agree, Thomas?”

He chuckles loudly, crooking his elbow and resting his head on his arm. “I don’t know what devil got into you last night, darling, but feel free to take advantage of me any time you wish.”  Laughter fills his voice and he can’t remember being so contented in a long while.

He’s had partners in recent years, but Thalia is the closest he’s ever come to a relationship in a while.  Her presence in his solitary space instantly changes things, and he knows this is the reason he’s kept her at arm’s length.  He doesn’t know if his heart can take the pain again. As she flips through a volume she’s pulled off the shelf, he’s reminded of a childhood tale and realizes she’s the beauty to tame the beast. Maybe it’s time to show her he’s ready to commit.  Looking around the dark room, it could use some feminine touches.

Tom is broken from his reverie when she plops in the chair closest to his head.  She runs her fingers through his wet hair and kisses his forehead gently.  “I’m going to New York tomorrow for that interview” she sighs.  “I don’t know if I want the job though, it just seems soul-sucking,” she complains.

“Welcome to the real world,” he laughs, reaching out to tangle his fingers in her hair.  He wants to tell her not to go, but New York is closer than the phone interviews she’s had recently with museums in Paris, Rome and Sydney.  ”The day after the interview? You’ll be back in time for your spa appointment?”

“I hate the idea of spending my morning in a spa.  That’s just not me, you know what I mean?”

He loves her no-nonsense style and casual look for the office.  She always looks more professional than the other student assistants and her name has popped up more than once for different campus openings in the fall.  Cocking his head, he asks, “What about your work for the history department?  Will you have time for that as well when you return?”

He hears the book drop to the floor, but can’t see her from her position behind him.  She sighs deeply and her voice is far away when she shares,  “That’s over.  It, uh, ended last week.  My… help… isn’t needed anymore, I guess.”

Twisting a bit on the couch, he can’t read the faraway look in her eyes as she stares out the window.  She smiles at a bird bouncing along the window ledge, and pulls her attention back to him.  Stroking his damp curls, she suggests, “Can’t we just skip the Gala, dress up anyway but fuck here on this couch instead?”  She wiggles her eyebrows lasciviously at him.

He chuckles, the sound rumbling through both of them.  “I love the way you think, darling.”  His arm, crooked around the back of her neck, pulls her closer as she leans in for a kiss and she gently plays with the collar of his shirt.

Pulling back with his lip between her teeth, she tenderly bites down.  “My ride will be here soon; I’ll see at the drama department meeting at three this afternoon.”  He nods with a smile while she tugs his tie.  “Wear our tie instead,” she says with a hint of command in her voice.

“Anything for you, dear.  And if I wear my glasses too, will that have you in a wet mess all evening?”

With another quick peck on the lips, she rises with a laugh, pulling a jacket from her bag to complete the look.  “You know me too well,” she teases.  Tom starts to shift, but she stops him.  “You don’t have class till this afternoon; stay.  I can show myself out.”

Tom watches her sashay away, the swing of her hips in her boots just right to make a grown man want to cry, and he knows the room gets darker when she leaves.

Click here for Chapter 35 Gala

 Copyright © 2017  avenger-nerd-mom and devikafernando.  All rights reserved. Intellectual property of avenger-nerd-mom

Choose

Educating Thalia

Collaboration by @avenger-nerd-mom & @devikafernando

AU FICTION

Chapter 33

A collaboration involving Professor Hiddleston and Professor Evans- The two are rivals at a posh New England university and have no idea they both have taken interest in the lovely Thalia Bareo. She’s a grad student with interests in language and history; a sassy full-figured Puerto Rican girl from Chicago.  Story updates are posted on Wednesdays and Sundays.

Word count: 1380

Warnings:  Language, Adult Situations, real life discussions, angst

Summary: Things get out of hand when the shared time at the cabin prompts Chris to ask Thalia for more.

Click here for intro to Educating Thalia

Enjoying the comfortable silence between them, Chris was really glad he’d asked Thalia to go hiking.  He’s quite surprised by her knowledge of the wildlife in the area and indulged her wish to sit on the shore of the lake to watch a flock of Great Blue Herons skate across the patches of ice and break through to hunt for food. She happily clicks photos of the view, but ignores the occasional beep of messages coming in.  After about the fourth time she quickly types a response and powers down the phone, throwing it in his backpack. He doesn’t say a word. It’s none of his business, although his heart stings, wondering exactly how she ended up with a free weekend.

Absently she digs through the snow at her feet and finds a small stone, throwing it out and watching it skitter across the frozen surface.  “What’s next, mountain man? My ass is gonna freeze to this log if we sit much longer.”

“Thank God.  I was waiting on you.  Mine is frozen,” he laughs, rubbing his hands roughly over his ass as he stands up.  Reaching for her hands he pulls her up next to him laughing as she wraps her arms around him to help him with the task.

“You’ve got a nice ass babe, it’s just not as padded as mine. “

“Yea, you tease.  You keep reminding me you’ve got all that padding back there but then you never let me fully use it.”

She slaps his ass playfully.  “I’m fine with our play back there so far.  You just keep tempting me. Some day. “

“Some day.” He takes her hand in his and leads her back into the path.

The pair continue their walk through the woods, startling a doe and her fawn.  Talking quietly, they exchange more stories of their childhoods, spilling details about troubles they caused for their parents and high school hijinx.

At the back of the porch, Thalia stops, refusing to follow up the steps.  She looks out over the view, her brow furrowed in thought.  Chris sits down on the rickety old riser, noting it needs to be fixed soon.  Leaning one forearm on his thigh, he waits in wonder at her thoughts.  He plays with the buttons at the wrist of the worn plaid shirt, his coat laying next to him, warm from the walk.  Lost in her ruminations, he wished he knew where her mind went sometimes.  It’s not that he hasn’t been around her on her period before, but she usually takes those days to herself.  This is different.  Alone in the woods, they are entirely dependent on one another, and she’s not quite herself this afternoon.

Pivoting on her heels, she turns to him, fresh tears in her eyes.  “Why did you bring me here Chris?”

The million dollar question.  He wished he had a good answer for her.  Picking at a scuffed mark on the toe of his hiking boot, he can’t make eye contact with her, although he feels her eyes boring into the top of his head.   He decides to go with honesty, just as she did once.  “I knew you’d appreciate the history.  I wanna win you over; for you to see we’re good together.”  He looks up, his eyes fierce.  “Fuck, I’m not asking for forever, Thalia.  I know you wanna travel and see the world, and Avery scares you a bit, but I want you to see I’m the better man.”

He sees the flash in her eyes, wanting to rise to the defense of the unknown stranger, but he pushes onward.  “Even if you don’t choose me, don’t choose him either.  He’s not right for you.  The bruises, the sadness you sometimes have; constantly hiding your stress.  I get it; I do.  I lived it but didn’t know it for what it was two years ago.  But juggling two of us is running you down.  I can see it.  But I also know we have fun together, and I don’t wanna lose that.”  Rising to her he steps down next to her, placing his hand on her arm, her whole body closed and defensive.  He hates the pain in her eyes he causes now.  “I’m willing to ignore things just because I like being with you; I hate you have another man, and you still cling to him after all this time.  I want it to be me and only me.  I feel more alive with you than I have in months; I don’t really know who needs healing most here, but I know I need you.”

“Chris, I… I can’t… I just…”

She turns to walk away, going to the front of the house and he jogs up behind her, grasping her arm and spinning her to him, forcing her to look at him.

“Dammit, Thalia, you can’t just walk away every time something gets rough.  I’m telling you how I feel and if you care, you’ll listen.  You’ll talk to me.  Explain it, because I don’t fuckin’ understand.”

“Don’t you get it, Chris!”  She shouts, her voice echoing in the valley, a sound of release.  “Don’t you get it,” she repeats, quieter.  “I don’t have a damn clue myself.  I know it’s a hot mess.  And everyone’s gonna be hurt; and it fuckin’ sucks.  But I don’t know how to end it, or even if I want to.”

She pulls away from his grasp, walking to the swing hanging under the big tree in front of the cabin.  “Are you asking me to make a decision now, because if you are, I just can’t.  I keep… I keep hoping when I hear about my internship, I can get my head together.  The adult thing…”  She sighs, pushing her legs off the ground as she rocks back on the swing.  “The adult thing to do is for me to walk away from you both.”

“Wait till the end of the semester?”  Chris grabs the rope on the pendulum and stops her in motion, bringing her to a halt as she hits against him.  “Just get on the plane and not look back?  How does that help make it better?”

She drops her head, placing her hand over his, still clutching the rope.  “It doesn’t.  And I’d never do that to you.”  Looking him in the eyes, she tells her fear.  “Leaving either of you cuts me in half.  I need to be whole; just a bit longer.  You said it about yourself, and I feel it too, I feel alive with you… but,” she chokes on her words.  “But I feel the same about him too.  I’m sorry.  It’s childish; I want you both, and I know I’m going to lose you because of it.”

Righting the swing, he holds the rope with both hands, like a lifeline, looking down on her.  She looks small and lonely.  Not the Thalia he knows…  Words bubble out before he even knows where they come from… “What if…  What if I just take myself out of the equation?”  Stepping back, he leans against the tree, arms crossed and defensive.

Leaning forward on her knees, her shoulders wrack with silent tears.  His heart breaks.  That’s the last thing he wants to do, and he doesn’t really want to force his hand.  But he doesn’t know if he can see another way out, or another way to get her to make a decision.

Shoving off from the tree, he walks to the porch, pissed this discussion got out of hand.  He can’t really take it back now.  Maybe harsh words will lead her to a decision?

Gruffly, he says, “Don’t stay out too long.  It’ll get cold.  I’m going in to pack up my things.  We’re going back tonight.”

Fuck.  He wants nothing more than to turn back to her.  To sweep her in his arms and pretend none of this ever happened.  But he needed to speak his piece, to know where he stood and she gave him the perfect opening to get it out there.  Before he steps inside the house, he hears her say, “Fuck you. Why’d you go and ruin a perfect weekend?”

He’s not sure if she’s talking to herself or him and the door slams shut behind him.

Click here for Chapter 34 Boots

 Copyright © 2017  avenger-nerd-mom and devikafernando.  All rights reserved. Intellectual property of avenger-nerd-mom

Prize

Educating Thalia

Collaboration by @avenger-nerd-mom & @devikafernando

AU FICTION

Chapter 32

A collaboration involving Professor Hiddleston and Professor Evans- The two are rivals at a posh New England university and have no idea they both have taken interest in the lovely Thalia Bareo. She’s a grad student with interests in language and history; a sassy full-figured Puerto Rican girl from Chicago.  Story updates are posted on Wednesdays and Sundays.

Word count: 3272

Warnings:  Language, Adult Situations, NSFW, real life, foreplay, oral sex, dry humping

Summary:  Thalia’s period changes plans for the activities just a bit and the couple finds other ways to create fun

Click here for intro to Educating Thalia

images found on Pinterest

Scrabble image created by avenger-nerd-mom

The next morning Chris is woken by her hushed curses.  The sounds echo in the cold room.  He rolls over and looks at her through squinted eyes.  Her wild mane hangs around her and his plaid shirt, buttoned crooked, slides off her shoulder.  “You’re never awake first; everything all right?”

A quiet “fuck” snaps him to…  His blue eyes fly open and he quickly takes in her pained expression.  “Thalia?  What’s wrong?”

Dropping her head forward, her reply is muffled behind her hands and she pulls away when he reaches out to her wrist.  “Christ, it’s so embarrassing.”  She sighs heavily, looking at Chris with her dark brown, sleepy eyes.  “My period came early and I don’t have anything.  Can you drive me to town?”

Biting back the laugh and comment he knows will get him in trouble, he pats her knee, caressing his thumb over the old, knubby bedsheet.  Better early than late.   “It’s okay, babe; it’s a guest house.  I’m sure we can find ‘things’ you can use in the hall closet.”

He really hopes over time his mom, sisters, hell even his ex-wife have left things in the closet.  It’s the first time he’s ever seen Thalia unsure of herself, and although a crack in her tough girl armor is endearing, he wants to help right her as soon as possible.  Throwing the covers back, he starts to climb out of bed and she scrambles the blankets towards her.

“The bed, Chris…”  She chuckles, shaking her head.  The blush on her cheeks and the morning light hitting her face creates a halo effect, and in all honesty Chris has never seen her more beautiful.

Rolling back to her, he crawls up on his knees behind this beautiful, distraught woman.  Gently caressing down her back he tells her it’s no big deal.  Her plump, full body is warm, even in the cold cabin and he moves closer to her, wrapping his arms around her.  His t-shirt and flannel bottoms are no match for the cold air.  He’ll have to restart the fire soon.

She relaxes into him, resting her head back against his shoulder and reaching up to scratch his scruffy chin.  “That’s really nice, thank you.  Come on.  Go now and check.  I need to go take a shower.”

Kissing her temple, he slides off the bed, walking to the door.  “I’ll give you time.  When I hear the shower run, I’ll be back to check on you, alright?”

She nods her head, her hands still worrying at the sheets.

#

Fifteen minutes later, the fire is going again and he sees the sheets in a big ball in the hallway.  No stains to the mattress pad.  Not that it would have mattered.  As a father, he’s cleaned worse messes.  Setting out fresh sheets on the bed for later, he smiles to the little tune she hums, remembering another time long ago he waited impatiently while she was in the shower.

“A lot of the snow melted over night,” he announces, stepping into the steamy room, her signature scent of orchids filling his nose.  “If you feel up to it, I’d like to take you on a hike.”

He sets down the selection of feminine supplies he found in the closet on the counter.  “Do you need anything else, Niña?  I’ll go get the laundry started.”

Pulling back the curtain slightly, Thalia smiles wryly.  “No, please don’t.  I’ll take care of it.  A hot coffee before a hike sounds perfect; I’d like that very much.”  Embarrassed, she hangs her head, tendrils of curls falling around her face from her messy bun.  “Chris?  Thank you.  If… If you wanted to go home, I’d understand.”

Chris crosses the small room, placing his large hand on the back of her exposed neck, gently pressing his lips to her tantalizing plump flesh. Sliding his mouth from the welcomed exchange, he rests his forehead to hers.  “Oh, Thalia… beautiful, funny, amazing woman.  If you think we’re just here for a sex-fueled weekend, you are entirely wrong.”  His lips graze across her forehead and he turns to walk out of the room.

“I plan to beat your ass at Scrabble later today.”

Her laughter bounces against the tiles as he gathers the soiled sheets in his arms and takes them down the hallway, his own laughter echoing hers.

#

Over bacon and eggs, Thalia announces she’s not ready for a hike just yet.  She’d like to warm up and stay cozy by the fire.  Chris putters around the kitchen a bit longer, checking on the wash as she finds a volume from the bookshelf and carries it over to the couch to curl under the hand stitched quilt to read.  Shifting her slightly, he settles in next to her, opening a book on his tablet.  At one point, he knows she drifts to sleep next to him, and he rests his cheek on top of her curly head.  Happy. Content.  Satisfied.

When she wakes, she disappears into the bathroom.  Upon reentry of the room, she pulls the Scrabble box and a dictionary off the shelf and starts to set it up on the coffee table in front of the fire.  “How about that popcorn now?  I’m hungry; I could use a snack.”

Chris readies the kettle and the kernels begin to dance and pop over the flames as they decide on the rules of the game.  Sexy Scrabble.  Only words related to body parts and sexual acts, slang and traditional phrases included.  “What about scientific names, or Greek and Latin?”  Thalia asks.

Squinting, his competitive nature getting the best of him, Chris chuckles.  “You study languages.  I would be at an unfair advantage.  That doesn’t seem right?”

Tilting her head to the side, she pushes a wayward curl behind her ear. Adjusting herself comfortably on the pillow, she smiles up to him, still sitting on the edge of the couch.  “Well?  You could choose one of those words and we could try it out sometime…  But I’m telling you now, you’re going to lose.  I have an excellent sailor’s vocabulary.”  He laughs at her tease.

The game begins and she’s right.  It’s stacked against him. Right from the start, she plays ‘olisbos,’ earning nine points.  “Shit, this is not fair.  What the hell is that?”  He chuckles.  “Do I want to know?”

Laughing, taking a small handful of popcorn and chocolate candies she had in her bag, she replies.  “It’s fairly tame; it’s the Greek for ‘dildo.’”

“Fuck. Remind me to never play word games with you again; you’re gonna beat the pants of me.”

Raising her eyebrows, she giggles.  “Isn’t that the point, Evans? And you know, I get 50 bonus points because I used all my tiles.  So make that 59 points over there on that little notepad you’re keeping.”

“Fuckin’ hell.  Evil, evil woman.” He chuckles, laying out the only word at his disposal, ‘seed,’ for a measly four points.

Other words tossed about during the game are fairly customary, traditionally used in common language.  The list of synonyms for ‘whore’ takes the game to a new level, as slang terms were allowed in their rules.  But the dark-headed woman is constantly ahead in points and Thalia finally takes pity on him and allows Chris the privilege of using his phone to help him google words to use.  “Man, we shoulda set the rules for strip Scrabble.  We’d have been done in about four turns,” she laughs, throwing popcorn at him.

“Four is a good number.”  Wiggling his eyebrows at her, he hopes she knows he’s enjoying their meeting of the minds as much as he loves the joining of their bodies.  “Hey, Thalia.  This is a lot of fun; I don’t think I’ve ever had so much fun at Scrabble before.”

“Don’t you get soft on me; try to butter me up!  I’m gonna win this damn game,” she shouts playfully.  “Don’t try to distract me with your niceties.”

“I know you’re gonna win, and then I’m going to enjoy claiming my prize…  Hmmm… What should it be?  I’ll be honest, I’m leaning towards ‘irrumatio.’”  He’s pleased with his new vocabulary, learning this is the Latin for ‘face fucking.’

Placing the last tiles on the board, Thalia announces she wins, spelling out the word ‘fellatio.’  With a predatory gleam in her eye, she crawls around the table to him, pushing his leg to the side to make room between his thighs.  “You know,” she says, biting her lip seductively and then flicking her tongue out, licking her bottom lip, “that’s a prize you can claim now.”

Breathing ragged at just the touch of her hands on his thighs, he exhales, “We could… I could accept that reward right here.”

Rising up on her knees, Thalia places a frantic, heated kiss on his lips.  He winds his hands in her hair, tighter as hers knead over his thighs.  The flannel pants rub against his cock, already beginning to twitch with desire for this ethereal creature.  Her tongue teases along his swollen lip, encouraging him to open for her.  When he does, she pulls his bottom lip between her teeth, nipping and biting, her hands continuing to caress up his muscular legs.

Covering her warm hands over his bulge as their touches continue, quiet moans escape them both.  Massaging his hard cock through the soft fabric, he wills himself not to crack under pressure.  Her lips continue the chain of bites and nibbles across his sandpapery scruff.

Grasping his tapered waist, she tugs him further down the couch so his ass nearly hangs over the edge.  Resting back on her heels, she digs her fingers under the sides of the waistband and gives a yank as he lifts his ass up. Sliding the pants down his legs as he removes his t-shirt in a swift move, she licks her lips at the sight of his beautiful, veiny cock.  “Who’s really getting the prize here?” she moans quietly, removing her own t-shirt as well.

Rising back on her knees, she stretches up, resting her belly against his throbbing cock, running her hands over the defined plane of his torso.  “Like a damn Greek statue,” she whispers, memorizing every ridge with the touch of her hand, followed by her hot mouth blazing on his skin.

Chris writhes beneath her, enjoying each touch, wanting to be closer than ever to her.  Knowing he can’t have her is killing him, and she’s taking her time with her own pleasure.  Her fingertips scratch over his nipples, bringing them to painful attention, easing the hurt with her sweet lips wrapping around them.  “Fuck,” he chokes out between panted breaths as she sucks and bites at him, making her way south.

His slick precum lubricates between them and she continues to brush her body against his, the lace of her bra rough against his sensitive nerves.  She wiggles her ass back and forth as she slides across his body, tonguing his belly button and toying with the coarse hairs leading to his aching muscle. Putting his foot up on the coffee table behind her, he spreads his legs wider as she slides her nose along his cock, resting hard now against his thigh.

“You really suck at Scrabble.”  Thalia breathes warm puffs of air against his legs.  “Fortunately for you, I suck at other things.”

Looking up, her eyes capture his and her desire is evident there as she holds him in her hands, cupping his balls and rolling them between her fingers.  Slowly she uses one hand to slide up his thick shaft, covering the palm of her hand over the tip and using his slick to ease her glide as she begins to stroke him up and down, never taking her bright wide eyes from his.  When her touch becomes too much for him, his eyes roll back and he rests his head against the couch.

With his eyes closed he savors the feeling when her mouth closes over him, her tongue teasing under the ridge.  He can’t stand the torture.  Placing both feet firmly on the floor, he lifts his hips so the head slides into her waiting mouth.  She grips his shaft so only the tip can slide in and out between her lips as her tongue swirls around, sucking off him with each penetration into her opening.  Holding his balls tighter, she holds him in place silently guiding him and he rests back down as she sucks softly along his shaft with sweet open-mouthed kisses.  “Oh, shit, that’s good,” he groans as she repeats the steps going back up to the head before placing her mouth over the tip and sliding down on him.  “Fuck, yes,” he hisses, grasping tightly to the edge of the couch.

Pulling the clip from her hair, her curls tumble down over them, an erotic waterfall of sensation across his belly, thighs and exposed cock.  Her humming causes his need to build, and so aroused, his hips thrust up again, forcing his length down her throat.  Pushing up from the couch, she holds still as he reflexively pummels into her again and again, until she taps his thigh indicating her threshold.

He pushes back with his feet, shoving the table out of the way and pulling his shaft from her mouth,. Easing her gently to the rug, he spills himself over her chest, long spurts as she smiles up to him, caressing her hands over his muscled back and his tight ass.

Collapsing to her, she holds him close, tenderly kissing his sweaty temple and dragging her nails down his sides, holding at his V as he grinds against her a bit more.  “Jesus fucking hell; stop that,” she laughs, pushing against him, truly wanting what he’s offering.

“I should stop, ‘cause I know you’re gonna be mad…”  He whispers against her neck, nibbling the tender spot just under her neck.

Rolling him off to her side, they are both covered in his sweet sticky mess.  “Why would I be mad?”

“It’s in your hair, and I know you hate washing it when it’s cold outside.”

Gripping his chin, she holds firmly.  “I hate you, really.  But I think we both need a shower anyway, after.”

Biting the side of her cheek and pulling from her grasp, he rests his head on his crooked elbow, beginning to wipe her down with his t-shirt.  “After what?”

Propping up on her elbows, she drags a finger through the mess and licks it off like a lollipop.  “After a haircut.  Your hair is a shaggy mess.”  She tugs at the curls starting to grow on the back of his neck.

“You’re going to give me a haircut?”  He smiles in wonder.  “Fine, fine.  On one condition.  You stay halfway naked, just as you are now.”

Caught midway with pulling off her sticky bra, she pauses.  “That’s fine.  I’m okay with that.  Wrap up in a towel or something.  Easier to clean up.”  She climbs to a standing position and holds her hand to him.  “We’re going out on the back porch anyway.”

“What?  Fuck no.  It’s cold.  I hate cold.  I don’t wanna be half naked outside.”  He gets to his feet and holds her close before she steps from his reach.

Walking to the bathroom, she calls over his shoulder.  “You set the clothing challenge.  I’m just going with it.  It won’t take that long to cut and there’s less to clean up ‘cause birds will carry the hairs away to build nests.”

He hears her banging away at the cabinet doors and she emerges with two towels and the razor set from under the sink.  “You’re not kidding?”  He responds by moving to the back door when she pushes on his back, wrapping a towel around his waist.  “Have you ever cut hair before?”

“Chris, would you relax.  It’s just a buzz.  Running the electric razor over your head.  It’s not that difficult.”

When Thalia opens the door,  a whoosh of cold air greets them.  She lays out the kit on the little side table and Chris watches the goosebumps rise on her skin, her dark nipples peaking in the cold.  If it bothers her, she doesn’t say a word.  Stubborn thing…  She sets the chair in the center of the porch and motions him to sit down.  He tries not to shiver at her touch or the cold but it’s such a jolt to his system after the warmth they’d just shared together.  She wraps the other towel around his shoulders and gently blows on the back of his neck, telling him to look down.  She quickly runs the blade up the back of his head a few times, the comforting whir of the familiar sound easing his mind.  She blows on the back of his ear to brush away stray hairs and he can’t help but wiggle.  “Sit still,” she giggles.  “You don’t want it to look crooked.”

Walking around in front of him, she continues her task, her lovely breasts right in his face.  She stops and breathes heavily when he pulls her close, latching his warm mouth over one of her cold tight buds.  A few deep breaths and she regains her composure, returning to the job of trimming his hair.  His nose slides down the valley between her breasts and he takes the other tip into his mouth, beginning to knead the one he just left.  Her breasts feel larger, more full.  He keeps his touches light, realizing in her state she might be tender.  Her quiet moan is the only response she gives.  Resting the arm holding the clippers over his shoulder, the buzzing still in his ear, with her other hand, she pushes his legs together and straddles his lap.  Bowing his head to her chest, she carries on, small wisps of hair falling around them, tickling his nose and his shoulders.  His tongue flicks over her breasts and she begins to grind over his lap, a rise and fall of her own as the shaver slides over the top of his head.

With the click of a button the sound stops and the razor clatters on the table.  Her hands brush over his head, checking for hairs still too long.  He pulls one leg away and balances her on one thigh as she continues her ride, his hands greedy on her ass, pulling at her flannel bottoms, and playfully smacking her behind.  His mouth comes down roughly on her tattoo, the branch of orchids over the top curve of her breast, beautiful and sweet and highly erotic at the same time.  He feels her grow tight in his arms and she digs her fingernails into his shoulders as she comes, crying out in little whimpers, snuggling close to his chest when she comes back down.

Chris pulls the towel around them both, kissing her tenderly as she falls from her eroticism.

“Holy shit,” she giggles.  “Wasn’t really planning on that, but okay.”

“Niña, that was the most fucking awesome hair cut I’ve ever had.”  She still trembles in his arms and he holds her tight a few minutes more.  He’d carry her inside, but the whole threshold thing messes with his mind briefly and he waits till her legs are less jelly before insisting she go into the shower first.

The door closes behind him and he stands on the back porch, clearing their mess, his head full of thoughts.  He’s distracted by the sight of two birds, hopping over to swipe his hair, chattering and chirping away at one another about their good fortune.

Click here for Chapter 33 Choose

Copyright © 2017  avenger-nerd-mom.  All rights reserved. Intellectual property of avenger-nerd-mom and devikafernando

Cabin Fever

Chapter 31

Educating Thalia

Collaboration by @avenger-nerd-mom & @devikafernando

AU FICTION

A collaboration involving Professor Hiddleston and Professor Evans- The two are rivals at a posh New England university and have no idea they both have taken interest in the lovely Thalia Bareo. She’s a grad student with interests in language and history; a sassy full-figured Puerto Rican girl from Chicago.  Story updates are posted on Wednesdays and Sundays.

Word count: 3766

Warnings:  Language, Adult Situations, real life discussions, fluff, angst, weight issues   

Summary:  Due to a cancelled weekend date, Thalia has time for a special weekend with Chris.

Click here for intro to Educating Thalia

She taps her phone against her chin, replaying their call in her mind.  Darling, I know this is very last minute, but I have to cancel our plans for the weekend.  My friend, Professor Harelson?  The one I took the teaching position from?  He’s decided to elope with his love and he’s asked me to attend the ceremony as his best man.  I’d love to take you to Canada with me, but other friends might be there, and we can’t risk our secret.

Shoving away from the counter, she walks to the fridge, looking over her calendar for the week. She can’t believe it’s already near the end of March and Spring Break is just around the corner. The only big thing on the agenda is the test Thursday. In her effort to comfort Tom, she’d promised they could go to dinner that evening and she’d drive him to the airport..  She totally understood the concept of keeping things secret, and she wasn’t at all upset about missing the wedding of a person she didn’t even know, although she would miss him. She sighs happily, thinking of Tom and how things have been more balanced these last few weeks.  Movie night has become more commonplace, and their get away two weeks ago to see a play in New York had been wonderful.

Continuing to look over her schedule, she smiles at the notation about work hours on Friday and makes a hasty decision.

Dialing Chris’s number quickly, she opens the door of the fridge and pulls out the juice bottle, taking a long gulp, nearly choking when he answers so quickly.

“Do you just sit around and wait for my call?” she giggles, screwing the lid back on and putting the bottle back on the shelf.

“Yes, oh great one, I have nothing better to do than to wait for you,” he teases, an infectious warmth in his voice.

“I like that.  Keep it that way,” Thalia jokes.  “So, uh?  Plans this weekend?  Mine changed, and I was thinking maybe I could convince my boss to let me skip work Friday afternoon?”

Waiting while he rustles some papers around, she assumes he’s looking at his calendar.  “But you work for me on Friday.”

She laughs, resting on the couch and pulling her book to her, settling in for a night of study.  “Yea… I’m telling you now, I won’t be in to work.  I’m gonna convince my boyfriend to go do something fun.”

“Oh really?  Hmmm… He’s a lucky guy,” Chris teases, playing along.   She hears him moving around other things and then a quiet groan as she presumes he drops to the couch.  “I miss you.  I hate that Avery and I were sick this weekend and we missed our Sunday.”

“I know, baby, me too.  I’ll see you at the history department breakfast tomorrow?”

He sighs.  “Not the same…  Alright, Niña, I’m gonna let you get to studying.  If Jim can let you have the whole week off to study for midterms, I need to respect your time.  Besides, I have planning to do.  I think I have the perfect idea for this weekend.”

#

The longer they are in the car, the quieter she gets until he realizes she’s fallen asleep.  Works herself too damn hard.  I can’t believe she even managed to get away for the weekend.  And it’s not just work, it’s that other guy too. Fucker, I sure would-

Stop.  That’s not conducive thinking to a romantic getaway, he laughs to himself, turning off on the exit and following onto the small two lane highway.  Watching her peacefully, he gently tugs back at her pink scarf, thinking it’s too warm in the car to have it on her neck.  Another bruise.  She swears up and down the bastard doesn’t hurt her, but he just can’t seem to let his worse nightmares escape even his waking thoughts.

Chris signals right, even though there probably isn’t even another car for miles.  He’s glad he drove up earlier in the week and got the cabin ready.  He’s not been out here in a few years.  He and Maura last came for their anniversary.  Right before he realized she was fucking their friend.  Kinda spoiled memories of the old family homestead.  He’d like to create new memories, with Thalia.  Find a reason to love the place again.  If not, it’s time to pass it over to his brother, let him get good out of it, and still keep it in the family.

Pulling the car up to the front porch, he gently eases the car into park.  He turns down the music and removes his seat belt.  He leans over the console and gently pulls Thalia’s arm free from around her waist.  “Hey, babe.  We’re here.  Wake up Niña.”

She is the most difficult person to wake.  He chuckles, wondering if she’d ever just respond back with a punch in her sleep.  He tugs the scarf and says a bit louder, “Sleeping Beauty, wake up, come on.  You can sleep when I get you inside.”

Her eyelids flutter open and she yawns, quickly clamping her hand over her mouth.  “Onion ring breath. Disgusting.”  Rubbing the sleep from her eyes she rolls her head across the back of the seat to face him.  “Why’d you let me eat those?”

“I believe your exact words were, ‘These are all mine; if you touch them, I’ll stab you with my fork.’”  He chuckles when she covers her face in shame and giggles.  “Besides, those are the best onion rings in the state; we couldn’t turn them down.  Stay here; I’ll get the door.”

She rests her hand on his arm, holding him in place.  “You do realize I’m in my boots, not heels this time.  I’m perfectly capable of opening a door for myself.”

He chuckles, “Damn independent woman.  I know you are.  Doesn’t change the way my mama raised me.  Keep your stubborn ass in the seat.”

Chris climbs out the car before he can hear her smart remark.  He jogs around the front of the car, the fresh powdered snow kicking up around his ankles.  Snowball fight. Definitely.  Hot chocolate.  Warm fire.  The whole nine, like some frickin’ chick flick.  He wants the weekend to be all about her, her needs.  When he reaches her door, she’s making funny faces at him through the glass.  Opening the door, he laughs, “One beer too many at dinner; you’re goofy.”

“Yeah, I’m not a beer girl,” she shrugs her shoulders.  “I was raised on the hard stuff.  I can handle it like nothing.  Three beers and I’m toast.”

“Good to know,” he teases, pulling her from the warm car seat.

Thalia steps aside, wrapping the scarf back around her neck while he closes the car door.  “Where are we?” she asks.  “It felt like we were driving for ever.”

“Well, Miss, in a sense, I’ve kidnapped you.  I’ve taken you across state lines without your permission.  But I figured that was the only way to get you out of the bar and away from your books.  Welcome, my sweet, to the Evans’ cabin home.”

Sweeping his arm in a grand gesture, her eyes take in the little home behind him.  The cedar shakes covering  the front porch are partially hidden by snow, icicles hanging from the edges.  She takes in the small windows, and notices smoke from the chimney.  “This isn’t a resort?” she asks, a bit confused from her stressful week and classes.  “There’s a fire going?”

Chris takes her hand, and guides her up the steps, careful for any patches of ice.  “The groundskeeper came up earlier.  He knew I was coming and started a fire for us.  The house should be warm and toasty.”

Thalia sucks in her breath, sinking in the history before her.  She smiles at Chris warmly.  “It belongs to your family?  How long has it been here?”

“Since the early 1900s.”

“So these logs were hand hewn by one of your ancestors, painstakingly put together for his family, to protect them; to keep them safe?”  Her hands brush over the worn wood, aged with time.  She steps closer, pulling her phone from her pocket and turning on the flashlight to admire the work.  “You can still see the ax marks.  That’s amazing!”  She runs to the end of the porch, checking to see the style used for placing the logs together.  “Notched?  That took a lot of extra effort;  and the brush marks in the chinking?”  Turning to Chris with her eyes wide, she grins.  “God, I can’t wait to see it in daylight.”

His grin equals hers.  He just knew she would love the old place.  When he pulls the keys from his coat pocket, she takes them from his hand and he eyes her questioningly.  She turns them over in her hand, admiring the heavy brass key from days gone by, being used now as the key ring to hold the modern ones together.  She cocks her head and smiles, taking a deep breath and sighing.  Blushing, she hands it back to him.  “Kinda nice to get away someplace that doesn’t open with the swipe of a plastic card, ya know?”

Raising his eyebrow, he’s not really sure, but he can see her brain spinning, absorbing the history.  “Whatdya mean?”  he asks.

“It means something.  It’s real; there’s a history and an importance to it.”  She pauses, biting her lip as he ushers her into the warmth of the little cabin.  Blushing a bit, she continues, “I mean I’m not knocking fancy hotels, but this…  It’s something that lasts…. What did it go to?”

“One of the ancestors to originally live in the cabin worked in the local bank during the depression.  The key was to one of the vaults.  Story tells he brought it home every night and placed it under the mattress for safe keeping, along with the cash that was supposed to be in the vault.  He didn’t trust the bank system himself and wanted to keep his friends with money there safe and secure.  So he kept it at home instead.”

He watches her expression as he flips on the lights.  His parents did renovations on the home while he was still a toddler, to allow for plumbing and electricity, and he’d spent many summers visiting as a child.  Liking the cabin, the lake, the woods, had always been a deal breaker for him, and he’d dumped a few girlfriends back in his youth for not feeling the same…  Her eyes are wide and she smiles at him.  He nods his approval and she moves forward, tenderly fingering the quilt over the back of the couch.  “My great, great, great grandmother stitched that,” he tells her, a quiet awe in his voice.

She walks around the room, taking in the little details.  “So much history…”  She runs her hands along the mantle, looking at the pictures, some dating back to the early 1900s, with small descriptions placed in the frames to identify the family members.  “Genealogy…  Wow.”  Bending down, she pokes at the fire a bit and then admires the masonry of the fireplace, swinging out the arm for the old fashioned kettle.  “We could pop corn in this!”  Her grin is huge and Chris releases the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

“That’s the plan, there’s some in the kitchen.  You wanna do that now?”  He asks, shrugging out of his heavy coat and laying it over his grandfather’s rocking chair.  Her appreciation of the small details has him bouncing on his heels in veiled excitement.

“No.  No; come here.  Sit with me.”  She removes her coat, wrapping up the scarf around her hand and placing it into the pocket.  “I wanna hear all the history of this place.  Is that where your fascination with the past started?”

Chris pulls an album and family bible from a shelf and brings it to the hearth to join her.  She snuggles next to him as he tells her all he knows about the home and shows sketches passed down for generations, hidden in the pages of the leatherbound book.   At her prodding, he shares tales of his childhood, the mischievous troubles he caused with his siblings, and the time their father actually chased after them with a switch from the willow tree off the edge of the back porch.  Tossing her head back in laughter at their antics, her eyes light upon the loft above.  “Is that where we’re sleeping?  I’m not real balanced on ladders,” she shares, biting her lip, squeezing his knee.

“No, I thought we’d stay in the larger room, an addition on the back.  It’s not original to the cabin.  Dad, Pappo and Scott and I built it when I was about sixteen.  Cut the logs down ourselves and everything.  Following the notes left in the bible and the trees we used were-”

“Wait, wait,” her hands fly to his chest and he instinctively flexes under her touch.  “I need to picture this.  You.  With an ax.  Chopping logs and splitting them to build a house with your damn bare hands…  That’s just… Shit, I need a cold shower.”

Throwing his head back in full body laughter, he pats his chest, feeling the soft plaid flannel under his fingertips.  “Oh, Niña, believe me, at sixteen I was not the fine specimen of the man you see before you now.  I was a theater geek.  I took dance lessons at Mom’s studio.  I played lacrosse but was the worst player on the team; girls weren’t exactly beating down the door to date me.”

Flipping a few pages in the album, she finds a picture of him in his youth.  Tracing her finger over the image, she says lowly, “They were idiots.  Sounds like you were just the kind of guy I dreamed of.”

He tilts her chin up to meet his eyes.  “What about you, Thalia?  Tell me about you, what kind of boys did you date, what was your childhood like?”

“Chris, I don’t… Ah, you know, you’re gonna bug me all weekend if I don’t answer, aren’t you?”

“I can be very persistent,”  Chris smiles.  “I could maybe even withhold some things you’re needing.”

“Needing?  You think very highly of yourself, don’t you?”  Her hand graces down his chest and pushes against the bulge in his jeans.  “Fine, put some more wood on the fire.  Let me get something from my bag.”

Seeing the hurt in her eyes, he holds her close, kissing the top of her head.  “Oh, Thalia, I didn’t mean to make you sad.  I just wanna know you; all of it, the good and the bad.”

“It’s okay, really.  Isn’t that why we’re here?  Getting to know each other more?  You mean a lot to me; I think… I think I want you to know.  But it’s not stuff I really talk about, you know?”  She shrugs her shoulders, tenderly kissing his cheek, her lips grazing his, but not a fully planted kiss on the lips.  “There will be tears… I’m tough, but you’re too big of a softie.  You won’t be able to handle it.”  Winking at him, she pulls from his grasp and stands up.

“Oh is that right?”  His stomach coils, wishing he hadn’t even started this line of conversation.  She’s probably right.

#

The pause in the conversation lasts longer than he anticipated as she took time out to make coffee on the stove, an addition to the cabin in the late ‘30s.  The wrought iron metal beast was no trouble to her, something Maura never mastered in twelve years.  The kettle whistles and she pours two mugs over the instant brand he’d brought earlier in the week.

“Real caffeine.  None of that tea shit you’re always making at work,” he teases as she hands the steaming cup over the back of the couch to him and then a package of cookies.

“Real caffeine,” she laughs, a blush rising over her cheeks, taking one of the cookies he offers before she rests between his legs.  “But I happen to like tea also, so don’t knock it.  It’s a talent in how you make it.”  She sets her coffee on the little table behind the couch and leans back against his chest, pulling the quilt over their feet.

In the dark, the room lit only by the warm fire, she shares details of her past.  Her mom leaving one day when she was barely six years old and never coming back; how her father retreated into himself, not really knowing how to raise a little girl.  With more nephews in the family at the time, she was just raised like ‘one of the boys,’ and could hook a worm and change a flat tire faster than any of them.  Her father always dreamed of sharing his shop with her one day, but she knew her dreams were bigger.  Chris hears her story and it tugs at his heart, wanting to make sure to always remember Avery needs to be a girl.  But a side of tomboy isn’t so bad either, if it leads her to have the confidence Thalia has, an inner sense of self.

“No one ever talked to me about it, it’s just always what it was.  When Dad married Stacey, when I was nine, things changed.  She took me to therapy, but by then the physical damage was already done,” she tells quietly, pulling a photo from the back of her wallet.  “This was me, at eleven.  Food was my solace, and it was the one thing I could have control over.  My mother reappeared when I was ten and for awhile I was shuffled around between the two homes.   She always had boyfriends, and some of them gave me the creeps, so I ate more.  If I was fat, no one would pay attention to me.”

Chris’s hands stroke her arms tenderly and hold her close, resting his lips against the top of her head.  The more she talks, he can feel her relax in his stronghold, like all the years of therapy and all she needed was this.  She continues her story, how books and intelligence was her way out.  “Stacey really saw something in me no one else did; she encouraged Dad to send me to camps and her parents were my surrogate grandparents and they footed the bill for a lot of things Dad couldn’t afford.  I worked hard for scholarships, but I took a year off college.  I came out East to establish residency to cut down on school tuition.  I stayed with Big Jim and his wife and worked at the hotel in town.  I met a woman there who hired me as a nanny for her son.  I later overheard her talking at a luncheon with some of her friends, saying that at least her husband wouldn’t stray with the ‘fat nanny.’  She should have been more worried about what her step-son was up to under her own roof, sanctimonious bitch…”  She pauses and shakes her head.  “Anyway, my aunts all thought that it was a wonderful job, that I’d finally tap into the ‘mother gene.’  No such luck.  That child was the devil’s spawn.”  Turning in his arms, she looks over her shoulder.  “He was like eight, or something.  One day, he was supposed to clean his room and I went to do laundry?  The kid climbed out the second story window, jumped on top of the pool house and ran away and hid for hours.” She pauses in her storytelling and takes a deep breath.  “My job was already on the line, but the final straw was the day she found me in bed with the step-son.  But by that time, I’d taken free use of their home gym, the pool and the nutritionist.  I was just the help.  She never paid attention to me.  She hadn’t realized while I was running after her brat every day I’d lost over fifty pounds.”

Chris lets her words flow, fighting the urge to clench and fight against the rich bitch, and her step-son.   Her tone drops.  “I’m not necessarily proud of it, but that job helped me get ahead.  I knew I wouldn’t survive in the heat of archaeological digs at my weight, so I got in better shape.  Round?  It’s a shape, right?”  She giggles.   “A lot of her pals are alumni at school.  They knew some secrets might not be safe, as I had been in their circle.  After that, getting scholarships and fellowships wasn’t as difficult as it had been before.  My first year of school was practically paid for by that group.  Since then, I’ve rejected their money, and worked to attain other connections.  Now, my education is what I can control, and my food choices are just for pleasure.  All things in moderation…”

She quiets and the silence hangs between them for a bit.  Her head lulls against his chest as she watches the fire, still fingering the edges of the photo of the heartbroken chubby little girl she once was.

His ears and heart take it all in, wanting to patch up her pain.  Breaking the silence, Chris speaks.  “Fuck.  That’s quite an origin tale, Thalia.  Ya know, you’re an amazing woman.  What a bunch of assholes!  I don’t know who I wanna hit first… Ok, yea, I do… the fuckin’ step-son…”  She chuckles, and he wraps his arms tighter around her holding her to his own pounding chest.  “What do you think pushed you the most, to be who you are now?”

When she doesn’t answer, he shifts her against his side, so he can see her face in the light of the flickering flames.  Tears wash over her freckled cheeks and his stomach drops; his heart hurts with hers and he quickly wonders if there’s more pain to her tale she’s keeping to herself.  He finds tears stinging at his eyes. She said I’d cry; she knows me too well.

“Always feeling like no one wanted me, or knew what to do with me” she whispers into the night.  “That’s my origin.  I had to be strong for me because no one else was.”

Gently pushing her forward, Chris wiggles out from behind her and stands up.  “I want you,” he tells her boldly, sweeping her up in his arms and carrying her to their room.  “And I definitely know what to do with you.  Thalia, let me be strong for you.”

Click here to read Chapter 32 Prize

Copyright © 2017  avenger-nerd-mom.  All rights reserved. Intellectual property of avenger-nerd-mom and devikafernando

Night In

Night In

Educating Thalia

Collaboration by @devikafernando & @avenger-nerd-mom

AU FICTION

Chapter 30

A collaboration involving Professor Hiddleston and Professor Evans- The two are rivals at a posh New England university and have no idea they both have taken interest in the lovely Thalia Bareo. She’s a grad student with interests in language and history; a sassy full-figured Puerto Rican girl from Chicago.  Story updates are posted on Wednesdays and Sundays.

Word count: 5279

Warnings:  Language, Adult Situations, Fluff, food porn, serious discussions

Summary: Thalia isn’t still isn’t feel well, so Tom comes to take care of his girl.

Click here for intro to Educating Thalia

The doorbell buzzes, and Thalia nearly jumps off the sofa.

Oh God, he’s here. Is she really up for this?  He can be so intense…

The feeling from earlier stayed with her all day. She did have a slight fever earlier in the afternoon.  It’s not really the flu, but maybe a severe cold?   She never could tell the difference; she always had Stacey around when she was sick, to figure it out.  Thinking of Stacey and her dad only only makes it worse. She feels…odd. Off balance and uncertain, and she hates both with a vengeance. And to top it all off, she has no idea how to act around Tom this evening. At least if she’s quiet, she can blame her attitude on being ill.

With a sigh, she pads to the door. She’s dressed in her favorite canary yellow pajama pants, a baggy gray sweatshirt and fluffy, warm socks, with a shawl wrapped around her.

When she opens it, the first thing she sees are two enormous paper bags, one single pink orchid wrapped in transparent gift paper poking out on top. Then the bags lower, and Tom’s tired yet smiling face appears.

“Hey there,” she says, feeling her lips stretch into her smile almost against her volition.  “You look tired.”  She reaches for one of the bags, but he twists from her grasp.

“Hey there yourself.” Tom steps in, somehow managing with his freakishly long arms and big hands to maneuver the bags so he can lean in and kiss her cheek.  “Don’t worry about me; just tired.  My right hand was too sick to come in to work today,” he chuckles.  “How are you feeling, darling?”

She ponders the answer a moment, her gaze drawn to the concern in his deep blue eyes. “Not too bad now. Staying at home was a good idea. And I took some medicine to get the fever down. But I’m kind of tired.”

“Well, I’m armed with chicken noodle soup and movies, just as the lady instructed.” His smile turning goofy, Tom jerks his chin at the full bags. “And I brought a flower because a wise woman told me not so long ago that proper dates need flowers.”

Thalia’s mind does a little dance at the mention of their first ‘date’ when he treated her to a lavish dinner. How fitting that he draws her mind to this particular memory, because he pampered her amazingly well before a long night of loving. And pampering is just what she needs today.

“You’re too good to be true,” she murmurs, and Tom wiggles his brows at her.

“Need me to pinch you? I’m definitely true and real.”

With an eye roll, Thalia steps out of his way so he can walk over to the counter, where he sets the bags down. With a comical flourish, he takes out bags, boxes and cans until he’s emptied half a supermarket on her counter.  He shrugs out of his coat and lays it over the back of the chair, turning to point out the selection with pride.

“Jesus, Tom, I said I’m sick not looking for a food orgy.”

His signature “ehehehe” turns her to mush for a moment, and she licks her lips as he removes his tie. “I saw that, luv,” he chuckles.  “Don’t give me ideas we can’t follow through with.  You need your rest.”  Looking down at the food, he grins.  “I know you don’t need all this, but what’s a movie night without some snacks?”

Before she can protest, he waves a can of soup in the air.  “But first, your soul food.” He roots around in her drawers for cooking utensils, and she points to the cabinet for the pot. Still dressed from a long day on campus, she watches him heat up the soup and add some fresh chopped carrots and celery as well. Her mind transports her into a possible future. She imagines really being sick and having Tom fuss over her and make her soup, reading her a bedtime story from Shakespeare’s works and reminding her to take her medicine.

“Darling?” Tom’s voice and his hands on her shoulders pull her out of her thoughts. “Are you quite alright?”  One large hand feels her forehead, checking for a fever.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine, don’t worry. Just entranced by that mouth-watering smell after I barely ate anything at all today.”

It’s not a lie. Her mind’s been so off that she hasn’t had more than the reluctant bite she had in the morning, as if she’s really sick.

Another smile lifts her lips, and the noose she’s felt so tightly around her neck all day loosens a fraction.

“I also bought mashed potatoes, as you requested” he adds. “But let’s leave those for a proper dinner after your stomach has been mollified.”

Together, they get the soup into a bowl, and then Tom hands her a few DVDs he’s picked from another bag and pushes her over to the couch with a gentle hand on the small of her back.

“Go and get settled, darling. I’m going to go change out of these clothes and put on something comfy, then I’ll make us a tray with snacks and I’ll be with you in a jiffy.”

Obediently, Thalia walks over to the couch, not sure how she feels about Tom puttering about in her kitchen. It’s all so…strange. It never feels this way with Chris, and…

No. She won’t think of Chris today. Not now.

God what a mess. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea.

Determined to make this a good night, she gets the TV screen from the closet and hooks up her computer, getting ready for their movie night before taking her seat.

A few minutes later, Tom walks into the living space, giving the room only a cursory glance before settling his eyes on her.  He smiles when she sucks in her breath at the sight of him in his cozy plaid shirt, with a peek of a tshirt underneath for added warmth in her cold apartment, and well worn jeans.  He sets the laden tray down carefully before plonking himself down on the sofa next to her. It takes him a bit of adjusting because his legs are so damn long, but once he’s finally sitting comfortably, he shoots her an eager smile. Hidden behind his glasses, his eyes are sparkling with expectation and excitement, and there’s that boyish quality to him again that surprises her so much. Combined with his decidedly manly looks—highlighted by the shadow of stubble along his strong jaw and by his slightly disheveled hair—it makes him so attractive she wants to curse the unfairness of it all. Instead, she wiggles closer readily when he lifts an arm so she can lean into his side.

“Right, let’s have a look at your beloved superheroes,” he says with that infectious enthusiasm of his, and Thalia hits play on the DVD.

The movie hasn’t even properly begun and Tom’s hands are already wandering. But there’s nothing sexual to his touch. The hand of the arm he’s draped across the backrest of the sofa winds into her hair, and he tugs the hairband off to run his fingers gently through her tresses. Off and on, he stops gliding through her curls to massage her scalp ever so lightly or to trail his fingers over her neck in a soothing, rhythmic motion that relaxes her blissfully. If she wasn’t so focused on the movie, she’d feel drowsy by now.

With his other hand, he digs into the snacks—pretzels, individually wrapped chocolates, popcorn, toffees, peanuts, his long arms giving him easy access without having to shift. Off and on, he feeds her a bite in between spoonfuls of her soup.

Half-way into the movie, Tom disentangles himself from their embrace, and she can barely hold back a protesting sound because she hasn’t felt so relaxed in days.

He takes the empty soup bowl out of her hands to set it on the coffee table. Thalia’s eyes watch his long fingers deftly open a couple of buttons of the rumpled flannel shirt. Her mind is transported back to Chicago, where he wore the shirt for the first time. Something stirs inside her. Is it melancholy? Wistfulness?

She stomps down on the flicker of feeling. “Feeling nostalgic?” she asks, popping some popcorn into her mouth to hide whatever expression might be on her face.

Tom smiles a little crookedly. “As a matter of fact, I do.” His face grows thoughtful, and she can feel him zone out for a bit. When his gaze settles on her eyes again, he looks serious. “I may sound like a sappy old fool, but the time I spent with you in Chicago ranks way up high there with the happiest days of my life.”

God, why does he have to tug at her heart strings like that? “Way too sappy, mister,” she jokes, trying to lighten the mood. Tom’s expression clouds over instantly, and she feels as guilty as if she’d just kicked a puppy.

His beaming smile returns when she shares, “Mine too, Tom.  It ranks really high for me too.”

They turn back to the movie, and even though he pulls her snugly into his side again, something about him feels off.

With a small sigh, Thalia places a hand on his thigh and rubs up and down softly.

“I’ll always treasure our time in Chicago,” she admits, and some of the tension melts out of Tom’s body. She can feel him press a kiss on top of her head before he moves his arm to place his hand on her waist. It stays there, as if it belongs there for the rest of her life.

Soon, both of them become too engrossed in the movie to make normal conversation. Shocked that Tom hasn’t seen any of the Marvel movies, Thalia keeps throwing in extra information, filling him in on relevant tidbits that happened in previous movies. The first intermission has her pause the DVD and half-turn towards him.

“How come you haven’t watched any of these? They’re modern classics, damn it. It’s like never having listened to Shakira or something equally blasphemous.”

Tom chuckles, downing a few gulps of soda before answering. “In my defense, I did read some of the comics in my childhood. And they were fabulous. I just never got around to really caring enough to watch the movies.”

Thalia shakes her head, her curls brushing his face. “Shame on you. So, how do you like it so far?”

“It’s amazing. I’m positively surprised by how much backstory between the lines there is, how much emotional depth beside all the action.”

That is such a Tom thing to say that it makes her smile. But she gives him a mock-stern glare. “Well, I hope you’ll remedy your grave mistake and watch all the others too.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He salutes smartly, giving her a goofy grin. It turns into a smile when he leans in and pecks her on the cheek, a chaste brush of his lips that lingers a while and warms her from the inside out. “Thank you for introducing me to them, Thalia.  We can watch them together?”

The nagging voice in the back of her head won’t stop.  “That means you’d have to find time for me outside of office hours.”

The pained expression returns to his face.  “I know, darling.  Spring semester is always so busy for me, my evenings just seem too full.  I’ve been lackadaisical when it comes to making time for us away from my office, and you’re always on the go, my love.”  He squeezes her hand.  “I hope visits to the storage closet make up for some of the missed times?” he inquires, referencing their meeting earlier in the week.

She smiles, “For now,” winking at him playfully, though she wonders if it’s really enough.  But then again if both men were competing for the same hours, she wouldn’t know what to do with herself, so she lets it go.

She unpauses the movie and snuggles back into his comforting embrace. After a while, Tom pushes the tray to the side and props his socked feet up on the coffee table. Not even the action sequence on the screen can keep her from catching an eyeful of his long feet. It’s disconcerting to see him without shoes, in a weird way. His feet look even bigger without shoes on, and a giggle bursts free when her naughty mind wanders to what they say about men with big feet. Well, she knew all too well that there was some truth to that…

“What’s so funny, darling?” Tom shoots her a confused glance, his lips automatically lifting to mirror her gleeful grin.

“Nothing.” She chokes back her laughter and bites her lip, concentrating on the movie. From the corner of her eye, she can see Tom still looking at her. He crosses his legs at the ankles and rests his free arm behind his neck, sinking a little lower in his seat. Thalia mimics his actions, feeling mighty comfortable as she pulls the blanket over them.

She picks up her commentary, and somehow that sends her off on a rant about Loki and how Marvel doesn’t give him the attention he deserves. She talks about his development throughout the Thor and Avengers movies, and about how the actor playing Loki had managed to make the villain outshine the hero.

“So, you’ve got a thing for the bad guy, hm?” Tom asks, shifting his attention from the screen to her again.

Thalia gives it some thought. “I wouldn’t say that. Firstly, Loki isn’t a stereotypical villain. He’s kind of misunderstood, and he’s got this mischievous side to his character that always gets him into trouble but isn’t really meanness or evilness.”

Tom nods. “That’s kind of how the real Norse mythology portrays him, if my memory serves me correctly.”

It’s her turn to nod. “And secondly,” she shoots him a grin, “I’m pretty infatuated with Captain America too, and he’s definitely the good guy.”

Shifting to catch her attention, Tom says with a twinkle in his eyes, “Personally, I think a man should be a bit of both in real life, it will get him far.” He wags his brows at her comically. “A good boy in certain situations, a bad boy in others.”

With a guffaw, Thalia elbows him in the ribs. She’d been feeling so guilty just a few hours ago, and now look at her, laughing and thoroughly enjoying Tom’s company.

Being with him like this, with sex and secrecy out of the equation, is a totally new experience—if you disregarded Chicago, which was different in a way—and she’d thought at the beginning that it might be awkward. But it isn’t, and that gives her pause.

Pushing thoughtfulness away, she asks with a raised brow, “And what about women? Are we supposed to be a mix of good girl and bad girl too?”

Tom’s grin fades, and there’s an intensity in his gaze that she’s seen often. It always leaps into his eyes so suddenly, and it’s one thing she appreciates so much about him, how he’s genuine and all-in, whatever he’s tackling.

“Well, you’re the perfect mix of both, and look how wonderfully irresistible that makes you,” he says, his tone almost a low, growly purr before bestowing a quick kiss to her neck.

God, if she wasn’t feeling so out of it today, she’d be all over him by now. Even in her confused state, she feels a flutter in her belly.  The warmth bubbles out of her and she tells him just that.

“Good; then we’ll have another movie night soon, when you’re feeling better.”

The sound of an explosion pulls their attention back to the screen, and they watch the rest of the movie in amicable silence, punctuated by the occasional gasp or whoop at a great scene.

“Well, that was lovely, darling.” Tom says when the end credits are rolling. He makes a soft, satisfied grunt and shifts his position. She feels him nuzzle her throat softly, his stubble barely scraping across her skin, the clean, unobtrusive shampoo smell of his hair mixing with the scent of his skin. One of his big hands caresses her stomach, so lightly she senses the heat of his palm more than actual pressure. It draws lazy circles over the soft gray fabric, lulling her into a state of boneless bliss.

But she doesn’t want to doze off. Damn it, she has Tom over at her place for really the first time. She wants to treasure this.

“What’s a movie you’ve watched so many times you’ve lost count?” she asks, trying desperately to stay awake. She holds his hand steady on her stomach with her own, their fingers entwining.

“Mmm…” He leans his head back against the sofa, his face scrunched up in thought. “I think it’s a close tie between ‘Heat’ and Disney’s ‘The Jungle Book’.”

“What?” Thalia sits up straighter and lets go of his hand, checking his face to make sure he isn’t kidding. Those two movies are like night and day, and… “But that’s a children’s movie!”

He lets his head roll to the side, quirking his brows at her. “Yeah. And your point is?”

Now it’s her turn to frown thoughtfully. “Seriously? You’re not pulling my leg?”

Tom places a hand over his heart, assuming a comically solemn face. “Dead serious. Scout’s honor.”

That makes her giggle again. “I doubt you were ever a scout.”

He grins back at her. “Got me there, darling. But I was honest about ‘The Jungle Book’. I mean, how can you not love that movie? It teaches us so much, about friendship and family, about nature, about never giving up. Even after all these times of watching it, it makes me cry and laugh and sing along.”

As if to prove a point, Tom starts humming the tune to ‘Bare Necessities’, which sends her into another fit of laughter. She can’t remember a time when she’d felt so shitty but ended up laughing so much.

“Laugh all you want,” Tom said, crossing his arms over his chest and looking like a kid again. “It’s one of my all-time favorites, and I see no reason to be ashamed of it.”

Thalia shifts, half-turning on the sofa so she can face him. “I’m not saying it’s something to be ashamed of. You just surprised me, is all.” They exchange a smile. “It’ll be a great movie to show to your kids one day,” she adds automatically, then bites her lip.

Something shifts in his expression, almost imperceptibly. Curiosity has her shift closer and reach for his thigh, tracing circles on the bluish-purple, well-worn denim.  Her breath catches before she speaks, her heart racing.   “Do you want to have children some day, Tom?”

He stares into the distance before seeking out her eyes, his shoulders lifting in a shrug. “I think so, yes. I’m not so sure of when.” One finger lifts to his lips, rubbing pensively. “I know I’m not getting any younger, but for now, settling down and playing house isn’t how I envision my life.  Even if I found the right partner, I feel like there’s more I want to do first.”

The pounding in her chest echoes in her ears and she feels like it fills the room, wondering if he thinks he’s found the right one in her.

His hand captures hers against his leg, stilling it. With his thumb, he’s the one now tracing circles on her wrist. “But if I do get married and become a father one day, I’d probably love to have first a girl and then a boy because I know how wonderful it is to have a sister.”

Thalia allows her mind to wander for a moment, picturing a slightly elder version of Tom with glasses, a bit of grey at his temples and in his ginger scruff. She imagines him strolling to the park somewhere in London, holding the hand of a merrily skipping little girl with pigtails while a smaller boy is riding on his shoulders.

What does it say about her that her mind draws a blank on the woman who should be walking alongside him, holding his other hand?

Before she can dwell on the fantasy, Tom gives her hand a squeeze. “And you, dear Thalia?  Are children in your future?”

She chews on her lip, momentarily thrown by the question because being with Chris has made her oddly aware that having her own family isn’t so much in her distant future anymore but a real possibility if she chooses to take that path.

“I think I’ll go with your answer,” she says slowly. “Not now. I’m not ready for settling down yet, and it’s kind of scary to think of dedicating myself solely to a little person I’m responsible for when I’ve worked so hard to get to where I am.”  She sighs, searching his blue eyes, so intently focused on hers.  “Does it sound selfish to say I feel like I need to finish making myself before I make someone else?”

Tom shakes his head, squeezing more firmly. “Not at all… I don’t think anyone could ever accuse you of being selfish.”  He watches her thoughtfully.  “But when you do have them one day? What shall it be? A little girl with your riotous curls and your sass? Or a small, intelligent boy who loves burying himself in books?”

They exchange a look and a grin before blurting out at the same time, “Both. Both is good.”

Once their chuckles have subsided, Tom sits up and stretches with a drawn-out sigh, his plaid shirt rising to show a glimpse of his pale, nicely defined abs and sparse happy trail.

Somehow managing to look graceful while unfolding his long limbs and getting to his feet, he bends to pick up the tray with the half-eaten snacks and soda cans.

“Would you like anything else now, darling? Tea maybe? Your mashed potatoes?”

She shakes her head. “What I want right now is another movie, and some cuddles.”

He smiles, his eyes crinkling. “Your wish is my command. Give me a minute.”  Moving to the kitchen, he pauses.  “Is that a yoga mat in the corner?  I didn’t know you practiced yoga.”

His turn of phrase pierces a bit; just another example of how little they really know about one another.  She’s sure in passing on work days she’s mentioned going to the gym, possibly even yoga class.  It just proves how when Tom is in work mode, the real world often slips away.  Blushing a bit, she admits, “Yea, I was a little sore and achy this morning.  Some stretching helped, but then I was too zapped to put the mat away.” She shrugs.  “Perk of living alone; at least it’s my mess.”

He chuckles.  “Funny how we get set in our ways, then we begin to wonder if we could give up our freedoms to live with anyone else.”

She thinks on his words, but by the time he’s returned, she’s half asleep. Even more reluctant to lose her time with him, she stirs when the couch shifts from his weight. True to his word, he arranges himself for some cuddling. Sitting sideways on the sofa, his long legs hanging a little over the other end, he places a cushion on his lap and urges her to half-lie on him. It takes them some wiggling again, but then it feels so comfy she never wants to get up.

Between his steady heart-beat close to her ear and his soothing caresses all over her arms and back, she ends up missing half of the movie because she dozes off in between. Tom is quiet the whole time, only whispering an endearment here and there, holding her close without caging her in.

But then her stomach rumbles, and Tom grows alert from one moment to the next. He sits up straight, gently shifting her too. “Does my Warrior Princess need some magical health-restoring sustenance?”

She grins and nods, rubbing her sleepy eyes. “I’d kill for a steak right now, but I guess I should settle for those mashed potatoes.”

A mischievous glint enters Tom’s eyes. “Your stomach seems well enough, don’t you think? Can you handle some proper food?”

Thalia nods, wondering where this is headed to.  “What time is it?”

“It’s barely half past eight.”  Tom basically jumps off the sofa, not forgetting to resettle her tenderly. “I’ve got just the right thing in mind. Stay right here and let me treat you to one of the few things I’m truly good at.”

And off he is, with a bounce to his step, making Thalia wonder what on earth he’s talking about. What he’s good at? Shakespeare and stuff?  Amazing sex?  What’s that got to do with being hungry?

In a state of bliss and relaxation, Thalia tries not to think anything at all and simply wait.  She jumps when the phrase “bite that tattoo on your shoulder” rings from her phone.  She thought it was on mute, and rushes to cover the speaker with her hand.  Looking over her shoulder, Tom is focused on cooking, and not paying attention.  So like him actually, to be lost in his thoughts.  She sighs and shakes her head, still feeling a little off.  And guilty.  Terribly guilty.

Opening the screen to the picture Chris sent of him and Avery playing Legos at his kitchen table draws a smile to her face.  Their adoration for one another is touching.  However, her discussion with Tom reminded her of what she wants, but that doesn’t mean she has to make any decisions right away. Chris is still holding Avery at arm’s length from her.  He’s not pushing her into a mother role, and she can live with that.  He doesn’t seem to want an instant family, and Tom seems nowhere near ready to settle down.  Sending a quick reply, she snuggles down into the couch and laughs at the deleted scenes on the DVD.  Tantalizing smells waft from the kitchen after a while, making her practically salivate although she hasn’t had an appetite all day.

Looking over the back of the couch, she hides her laughter at the pile of bowls and broken eggshells on the counter.  She never would have guessed Tom was a messy cook.

“Hurry up, I’m starving now,” she whines.

“Patience my darling; good things come to those who wait.”

“I know, I know.  Delayed gratification,” she giggles.

What feels half an eternity later, Tom walks over the imaginary divide into the living space, his tray even more laden than before.

Her jaw hits the ground when she sees plates heaped full with mashed potatoes, fried eggs sunny side up and cut into pieces, sausages in bite-sized cubes, toast, two glasses of juice, grilled tomatoes, and bacon strips.

“What the… Thomas William Hiddleston, is that what I think it is?” She looks wide-eyed from the tray to his face with its smug grin and back.

“If you think what I think you think,” he jokes, “then you’re right.”

Thalia shakes her head, curls bouncing. “That’s a full English breakfast, right?”

He nods enthusiastically. “One hundred points, A+, Ms. Bareo. It sure is.”

“But, but…” she splutters. “Just in case you hadn’t noticed, it’s eight in the evening, Tom, not in the morning.”

He shrugs, barely managing to keep the tray balanced. Walking over, he sets it down and kneels in front of her, making a big ceremony of shaking out a cloth napkin he’s somehow found in her tiny, under-stocked kitchen. He drapes it over her knees, the funniest, kind of proud and precious grin still lighting up his features.

“If I may say so myself, I’m really gifted when it comes to putting a full English breakfast all hot on the plate at the same time.” Thalia muffles her incredulous laughter behind a hand as he goes on. “The tricky thing is the timing, you know. The toast should be hot enough for the butter to melt.” He points to the plate, his grin widening even more. “The bacon should be sizzling, the sausages and the eggs fresh.” He tilts his head, giving her one of those boyish, infuriatingly adorable expressions. “It isn’t an easy thing, but I do love a good challenge.”

“Dork.” She playfully hits his chest, and he captures her hand and peppers it with tiny kisses.

“But a dork who can cook. Want to see for yourself?”

He takes his place next to her again, and they tuck in, banter going back and forth between appreciative moans at the food.

Damn it all to hell, the man really can cook. Thalia represses the voice at the back of her mind that says it would be lovely to have him prepare breakfast for her on a regular basis.  She tries to stop the back and forth pendulum in her brain between Chris and Tom, instead focusing on the delicious food and wallowing in his attention.

After the late dinner, Tom drowns out all protests and does the dishes by himself while they have a shouted conversation over the running water, because he insisted she stay cuddled on the couch.  She could get used to letting him care for her in this way.  He  tells her more about English breakfast traditions she remembers vaguely from her time in Stratford-upon-Avon.

They put on another movie, this time a chick flick because she wants to wind down, but Thalia falls asleep midway. The next thing she notices is that she’s being carried. Groggily, she opens her eyes and squints at Tom’s face in the dim light.

“What…what’re you doin’?”

“Sh, darling, don’t fret. I’m just taking you to bed. You need a good night’s rest and then you’ll be back to your usual sassy self again in the morning.”

Shushing her half-hearted protests, he sets her gently down on the bed and tucks her in. He reaches out and brushes her hair from her face, checking her forehead for a fever again with gut-wrenching concern.  “I tucked you in here once before when you weren’t feeling so well.”

Thalia grabs his hand before he can withdraw it, leaning her cheek into his touch.

“You did.  I remember it well.  It seems like a lifetime ago.  Who would’ve ever thought we’d be here now, like this?”

“It was only my wildest dream, and I still can’t believe it came true, darling,” he whispers, placing a kiss to the back of her hand.

“I’m sorry, Tom. I wish the night didn’t have to end like this,” she says, fighting the drowsiness because it’s important to her to get these words out. “I can’t even give you a proper good night kiss, and I…and you…ugh.”

“Hey, hey, hey, don’t worry.” Tom leans in and brushes his lips over her forehead, wrinkled in distress. “I may turn into a starving sex maniac around you at times, but that doesn’t mean that I can’t keep it in my pants and just enjoy some time with you.” He smooths the blanket over her with a little smile.

“Sleep, my Warrior Princess. I’ll be on the couch. If you need anything, just call out.”

She wants to say more, her heart in her throat, but Tom places a finger over her lips and shakes his head. He waits until she closes her eyes, his hand brushing over her arm rhythmically—and before she knows it, she’s asleep.

Click here to read Chapter 31 Cabin Fever

Copyright © 2017  avenger-nerd-mom.  All rights reserved. Intellectual property of avenger-nerd-mom and devikafernando

 

 

Warped Fairy Tales

 

Educating Thalia

Collaboration by @avenger-nerd-mom & @devikafernando

Chapter 29

AU FICTION

A collaboration involving Professor Hiddleston and Professor Evans- The two are rivals at a posh New England university and have no idea they both have taken interest in the lovely Thalia Bareo. She’s a grad student with interests in language and history; a sassy full-figured Puerto Rican girl from Chicago.  Story updates are posted on Wednesdays and Sundays.

Word count: 3700

Warnings:  Language, Adult Situations, fluff, questions, confusion, divorced parenting

Summary:  Chris has a little surprise for Thalia, before leaving her to rescue another woman in his life.

Click here for intro to Educating Thalia

Stirring from slumber, Thalia is aware of Chris sitting at the foot of the bed, talking on the phone. She can only hear one side of the conversation, but he seems irritated.

“Maura, why do you only seem to need my help on my day off?… I have plans this morning…  Yea. Of course.  I can’t really say ‘no…’  I won’t take her to school; if I come all the way over there I’m gonna spend the day with her…. I wasn’t really asking your permission.  I was telling you…”

She squirms on the bed and contemplates leaving the room to give him some privacy.  He turns to her and smiles, shaking his head no and drops his hand on her shin, squeezing gently.  “Actually, Maura, if you need my help today, I need you to give me a little time. I do have a meeting on campus.  Can you bring Avery and meet me in front of the school library in about an hour?”

“Mmm… yea.   Thank you, I appreciate that. I’ll see you then.”

Hanging up, he tosses the phone on the bed.  “Well, Niña, change of plans. My ex wife needs to drive to the city for an emergency meeting this afternoon for her work, and she can’t get Avery to and from daycare on time.  Looks like I get extra time,” he can hardly contain his excitement and his smile warms her heart, “but that means I have to change our plans for today.”

Sitting up, she pulls the sheet around her, clutching it to her chest.  “Chris?  How are you going to manage that?” Thalia giggles when he tugs the sheet and pulls it out of her hands, exposing her plump breasts, covered with tiny love bites.  “If you pick up Avery in an hour, that’s not enough time to get me back to my place to change clothes and get my things I need for my afternoon classes.”

Crawling up the bed next to her, he paws over her thighs, grabbing behind her knee and yanking her back down, both laughing when her head hits the pillows.  Nuzzling into her neck, the air is warm against her skin as he breathes out.  “The red dress you wore last night is perfect.  Just wear it.”

Tipping her finger under his chin, she turns his head up to meet her face and glares at him.  No words are necessary.

“No?  Maybe you’re right.  That won’t do.  Can’t have all the dusty old men in the lit department lusting after you…  Why don’t you go see what’s in the closet?  Wear whatever you want…”

She pushes him away as his teeth clamp down on her collarbone.  “No more bites today, geesh.  What are you, a vampire?”  She loves his playfulness in the mornings, but the idea anything in his closet would fit her is ridiculous.  The man is blind when it comes to her size, and she simply adores that.  “Honey, your damn schmediums won’t fit me.”

Climbing out of the bed, she crosses the room, grumbling about wearing men’s boxers and he laughs at her, hitting her in the back with a pillow he throws.  “So get an undershirt from the drawer and grab a button down and wear it like a jacket.  And some sweatpants?  Just look.  I’m sure there’s something in the closet that will fit.”

Opening the door, she gasps seeing the three gift bags lined up on top of the dresser.  “Chris? What did you do?”

His arms wrap around her waist.  Pushing her thick curly hair over her shoulder, he says in her ear, “Why don’t you look and find out?”

“You know I hate presents.”  Folding her hands across his, she leans back into him.  “Why an hour?  That’s not enough time to play and model for you,” she complains.

Turning his mouth to hers, he kisses her tenderly.  “I know, Niña.  I’m sorry.  Do you need a quick shower?”  His cock twitches against her ass and she sways against him, adding friction between them.  “Because if you do, I’ll have to leave.  Are you okay this morning?  Last night I was a little rough on you.”

His concern shines through, and she runs her hands up his arms, squeezing his biceps.  “It was just the right amount of rough, I’m a little sore, but maybe I’ll get to some yoga today and stretch it all out.”

The smile is evident in his voice, the reining conqueror who satisfied his woman.  “You were fuckin’ amazing, so delicious…”  His voice is low and husky in her ear, his nose brushing against the delicate flesh, causing her to tingle. “Shit. I’m gonna get myself all worked up again.  You’re right.  We don’t have time.  I’m just gonna throw on a dad sweater and a baseball cap.  I’m good to go.  But if you need time to get ready-”

“No, babe, I’m fine.”  Turning in his arms, she looks out of the corner of her eye and blows sideways at a stray strand of hair.  “I’ll just braid this mess… and I’m assuming there are clothes in these bags?”

“Leave it free.  I like your hair loose.”  Handing her the smallest of the three first, he reveals to her a lace burgundy bra and panty set.  They dress together in the small confines of the closet and she wonders if she’s shared an intimacy like this before.  She laughs as he adjusts himself inside his boxer briefs, joking ‘on your left’ and he blushes.  But he gets his back when she bends forward to ‘adjust the girls’ settling herself in the bra just right.  “Shit, this feels like heaven.  That’s it.  From now on, you buy all my bras.  How did you even- ah, the day you were going through my things?” she winks at him when he nods yes and reaches for his jeans.  “I hate gifts, really, but I will gladly accept this one.  Bras in my size are not cheap, and comfort is necessary.  It’s perfect.”

“As beautiful as it is, and as much as I want to feel it on you, if I touch you right now, I might explode, and we’re on a time crunch.  Wear it again when we go to the movies Saturday.  Now finish getting dressed.”  Pulling a sweater from a hanger, he laughs.  “I can’t believe I’m telling you that.  It seems so wrong to tell you to cover up.”

Peering into the second bag, her eyes light up at the silk blouse, jeans and leather coat.   “Chris, this is really too much… I… I don’t know what to say.”  Sighing deeply, she kisses his cheek and adjusts the chain from his Saint Christopher’s medallion and collar of his cozy blue sweater and whispers, “Thank you.”

Pretending to ignore the tears in her eyes, he places his favorite ballcap on his head and taps her ass playfully.  “You can thank me later.  If you hurry, we’ve got time to stop for coffee.”  Taking the last gift bag from the shelf, he tells her, “I’ll meet you downstairs.”

“Hey, Chris?” She calls after him.  “If it’s that tight and gives a tat peek, I don’t think you can call it a ‘dad sweater.’”

His laughter rings through the house as she gets dressed quickly, admiring herself in the full length mirror on the back of the door.  She can’t deny Chris has style and taste.  He’s paid attention to the things she likes to wear, and she feels like this outfit was truly made for her.  The silk blouse adds an air of soft femininity; the tattered jeans hugging her thighs are down to earth; no nonsense, and the leather coat is like a protective covering.  He knows her so well…  It’s so different sometimes from-

No.

No comparisons.

Different.

Not the same.

But both so right.

She sighs again.  Searching her face in the mirror, she knows time to make some decisions will come soon.  It’s not fair Chris is aware there is another man, but most days he’s alright with it.  She worries about Tom and what his reaction will be to the news.  Quickly she applies some lipgloss, going for the totally fresh face look today; no time for even a light dusting of make-up.  Looking around Chris’s room for her shoes, she marvels again at the familiarity of this; the home-like atmosphere she and Chris create together.

That’s not Tom.  That’s not what he’s indicated he wants.  He wants trysts and secret rendezvous and hotel hideaways.  Fucking on the desk in his office.  Thalia crosses one leg over the other and squeezes her thighs together at the sinful thought… She desires the lavishness of that lifestyle too.

Both.

Selfish little bitch, she thinks to herself as she pads down the stairs, barefoot, remembering her shoes are in the den.

Rounding the corner, she stops at the sight before her.  Chris is sitting on the coffee table with a pillow in his hand and her heels resting on top.  He whistles appreciatively at the sight of her in the new clothes he picked for her.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.  I’m no princess.  That is absolutely ridiculous… and I adore it.  Hand me those so we aren’t late.”

Flopping down on the couch, the site of their lovemaking last night, she blushes as his hand graces down her calf, lifting her foot and sliding on her shoe.

“From where I sit, you are definitely a princess.  You are the most stunning, beautiful woman.  Style and grace, and you can pull off a big frizzy hair, no make up day and make it look amazing and-”

Grabbing behind his neck, she looks into his eyes.  “Listen here, bud, I already said I’d be thanking you for the new clothes.  Maybe after the movie we come back here to this very couch and relive last night’s Two and Three? But I don’t need your sappy words, I am perfectly-”

“You do need those words.  I’m going to keep telling you every day you are beautiful until you believe it.” Looking at his watch, he sighs, nodding his head in frustration.  “And I have another gift to show you exactly how beautifully amazing I think you are, Niña.”

She takes the largest bag from his outstretched hand.  “Chris, we’re going to be late?  Should we save this gift for the weekend?”

Chris helps her pull the giant box from the bag, his hand brushing against hers.  Her eyes focus there for a moment and she can see the blood pulsing through his veins and she senses the nervousness to his breathing.  Fuck.  At least the box is too big for jewelry.  She bites back her nervous laughter. Things are moving way too fast, but she could just see him being that guy.  One beat of her heart tells her she’d say yes in a New York minute, the other beat tells her to run for the hills…

But he had detangler by his bedside…

Shit.  Shit.  Shit.  She’s in too deep, but she doesn’t really want out either.

Opening the box, Thalia peels back the tissue paper and the sequins and sparkle stop her cold, but she masks the look on her face.  The surprise in her voice is real.  “Chris? What’s this?”

Still resting on the edge of the coffee table, his hands dance over the sequins, satin and red lace.  “Thalia, as fuckin’ silly as it sounds at our age, would you go to the ball with me?  I hate to go to the Alumni Gala, but I thought if you were there-”

She sees it in his expression when he’s figured it out before she can even speak.  “Oh, babe.  I’m… I’d really love to go with you, and this dress is amazing, but I already have a dress?  My stepmother and I picked it one out together, online.”  She sighs quickly, trying to keep it together. “I have to go with the Language Department since we are being recognized as a team for our research last summer at Stratford-Upon-Avon. I really wish-”

His hand clasps down over the top of hers.  Giving a gentle squeeze, he nods.  “Can’t say I’m not disappointed, I’d love to have you there on my arm; which is probably a very self-destructive career move.  But you know I’m not ashamed to be seen with you and-”

“I know you’re not.  It’s very sweet.”  Rising to her feet she wordlessly reminds him they have a schedule to meet.  “I like when we ‘accidentally’ meet in the Commons.” She runs her hand over his scruff. “I look forward to warmer days when you can find me catching some sun on the quad.  You know in Spring, I often wear cut-off shorts.  Be damned these thunder thighs!”

“I happen to like these thunder thighs and being stuck between them.”  Seated at just the right height, he places a kiss against her denim covered mound and snakes his fingertips between one of the fashionably ratty holes in her jeans to stroke her skin.  “That I’d like to see.  Text me the first day it’s warm enough.”

Giggling, she takes his hand and pulls him up.  “It’s a promise…  I really am sorry, Chris, about the Gala.”

“It’s okay, really.  It’s probably no surprise I hate shit like that.”  Shrugging his shoulders, he leads her out the front door, locking it behind them.  “I might not even go; who knows.”

She really hopes he decides to stay home.

#

The two talk in the car and Chris shares his nervousness about his impending court date with his ex-wife.  He’s hoping since the Spring semester will be up soon and his class load is light for the summer that his ex will agree to Avery spending more days with him instead of being in daycare all the time.  They discuss her frustrations about not hearing about her internships yet.

At the stoplight before entering onto campus grounds, Chris gives her a quick kiss on the lips and her hand quickly swishes over his cock.  “Evil woman,” he teases.  “I’ll see you Saturday night?”

“Of course.” Fluffing her hair, she rubs her lips together and smiles at him as he pulls the car up to the curb on the far side of the campus library.  Taking her coffee cup from the tray, she lifts it to him in silent ‘thanks.’  “Have a great day with Avery.  Ya know, I really am gonna get a complex if you keep dumping me for a younger woman.”

Chris chuckles and watches as she slides her ass down out of the vehicle.  “I’ll text you later.”

“Yup, sure.” She smiles and waves goodbye, watching his car drive round the corner.

Later, she’ll be at dinner and a play in the city with Tom.

Curiosity gets the better of her, and she follows the sidewalk to the front of the building.  She’s got time to kill before she has to be anywhere today.  She tightens the pink scarf around her neck and has a seat on one of the benches lining the front of the building, hidden under the pine trees.  She sees Chris’s car parked in front, in one of the faculty spaces reserved for two hour visits to the library.  A silver mini-van pulls up next to his  and a tall, skinny blonde exits from the driver seat.  In view from her long black wool coat, Thalia can spy a great pair of legs in killer heels.  A basic nightmare for all fat girls- a tall, skinny blonde ex. Yea!…  The woman hangs up her phone and places it in her coat pocket.  Chris removes himself from his car and greets her on the sidewalk.  She leans in to kiss his cheek and Thalia’s heart seizes as she waits to see his response. He steps back, holding his ex at arms length.  As they talk, the cold air creating clouds of mist between them, a little blonde bundle of energy bounces out of the vehicle.  Chris bends to lift her up and she covers his face in kisses.  Thalia holds back her laughter when she hears the light voice echo across the quad, fussing, “Poppa!  You need a shave!”

The regal looking woman reaches into the back seat and hands Chris a bag.  Stepping forward, she kisses the little girl and taps the brim of Chris’s hat before returning to the warmth of her car and driving away.

The little girl waves goodbye to her mother and Chris sets her down.  He squats in front of her, resting his arm around her tiny waist as he talks to her.  His giant hand nearly covers the whole of her back and even from a distance, Thalia can see the mutual affection they share for one another.  Standing up, he offers the curly headed little girl his hand and she wraps her tiny one around his index finger.

More than one younger woman has him wrapped around her finger?  She giggles to herself.

The pair walk to the library entrance and a stuffed animal falls from a pocket on the bag and rolls across the sidewalk.  Since no one else is around, Thalia quietly runs up to retrieve it.  Once in hand, heart racing at meeting the true love in his life, she calls out, “Professor Evans?  Professor Evans!”

Father and daughter stop on the stairs and Chris’s startled expression changes to a glowing grin as she waves the bear, walking closer.  “I think you dropped this?”

The little girl bounds down the steps.  “Oh, Mr Bear!  Did you jump out of the bag again?!” she exclaims dramatically.  “Thank you so much for rescuing him.  He’s a silly bear; always trying to get into adventures.”

Thalia can’t help but reach out to the soft tendrils of hair and pushes it back from the little girl’s face.  Her eyes are the same ocean blue of her father’s, with the long beautiful lashes rested against her pale skin when she blinks.  “Hi,” she says quietly, awed by the little one.  “You must be Avery?  I work with your Dad.”

“Yes.  It’s nice to meet you.”  She straightens the bow tie on the bear’s neck.  “What’s your name?”

Thalia looks up when Chris clears his throat.  Other students are swarming the front of the building as classes let out for the hour.  Thalia nods to him and steps back.  She introduces herself as Chris swoops his daughter up into his arms to avoid getting crushed in the crowd.

“Poppa, this is Thalia.”  The lovely little girl smiles, missing one of her top teeth.  She pokes her tongue through the hole, so Thalia feels this is a new development to her appearance.

“Yup, I know Bug; we work together.”  Chris winks to Thalia, the little girl still playing with her bear.

She turns to look at her father and whispers, obviously not a skill she’s learned yet.  “She looks like that princess we saw in the movie.  You know?  The singing one with the pet chicken and she had to save her island?”

Chris bites his lip as the blush creeps over Thalia.  “You know what, Avery?  You’re right, she does look just like a princess.”

The clock tower strikes and Thalia excuses herself from their small group.  “It was nice meeting you, Avery.  I have to get to my class now, or I’ll be late.  See you around, Professor Evans.”

The two wave goodbye and Thalia can feel Chris’s eyes watching her as she walks away.  Her mind lost in thought, she doesn’t realize when Professor Joanna Kent strides beside her.  “Sad thing about Professor Evans and his wife.  They seemed so in love!  You be careful of him, young lady.  He has a long list of young lovers from what I hear and that’s what ended his fairy tale marriage.  Cute little girl though, isn’t she?”  She tsks.  “Yes, smart thing like you, going great places?  He’ll be looking for someone soon enough to help him raise that child.  Is that something you really want to get stuck with?”

Kent’s words ring in Thalia’s ears and her stomach lurches.  She has a mind to set the old hag straight on many things, starting with the spinach stuck between her teeth.  Instead, she creates an excuse to cut through the science building and leaves the woman staring after her in wonder.

Fighting to catch her breath, Thalia stops on the nearest bench and claws at the scarf around her neck, pulling it away from her.  She can’t tell if the rising heat is embarrassment or anger.  She secretly hopes for the flu, as an escape from her night out with Tom.  He can’t see the love bites covering her chest and thighs.

Dropping her head to hands, her heart sinks.

I can’t be what Chris needs.  I’m not ready for that.  A perfect life, a kid…

For the first time that day, she asks herself the question she repeats daily: What the hell am I doing?

Holding back the tears in her eyes, she makes the one decision she can control today.

Opening her phone, she sends a text.  Tom, I’m running a fever.  I have to cancel the play tonight.  Staring at the message in her hand, she attempts to soften the rejection.  Care to pick up some movies and chicken noodle soup?  I also really love mashed potatoes when I don’t feel well.

Moments later his response appears.  Whatever my Warrior Princess needs. How about that superhero movie you wanted to see a few months back?  Don’t come to work today and I’ll see you at your place around five?

Thalia sends a reply and a few other quick messages. Her mind races with thoughts as she decides to skip her classes for the day and connects with Uber for a ride home.  While she waits on the sidewalk for the car her phone buzzes with a message from Chris.  See you Saturday, Princess.

Her thoughts swirl in her head as she climbs in the back seat of her ride when it pulls up to the curb.  Princess.  With two princes.  What kind of warped fuckin’ fairy tale is this?

Click here to Chapter 30 Night In

Copyright © 2017  avenger-nerd-mom.  All rights reserved. Intellectual property of avenger-nerd-mom and devikafernando

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Just Desserts

Chapter 28

Educating Thalia

Collaboration by @avenger-nerd-mom & @devikafernando

AU FICTION

A collaboration involving Professor Hiddleston and Professor Evans- The two are rivals at a posh New England university and have no idea they both have taken interest in the lovely Thalia Bareo. She’s a grad student with interests in language and history; a sassy full-figured Puerto Rican girl from Chicago.  Story updates are posted on Wednesdays and Sundays.

Word count: 5553

Warnings:  Language, Adult Situations, BOOKS! (that’s porn), control, dominance, submission, food play, shower sex, biting, spanking, fingering, rimming, anal play, condom use, intercourse, discussion of physical abuse and BDSM, aftercare

Summary:  Thalia takes on a new role in her relationship with Chris and things move to whole new level, which leads to a serious talk.

Cover images found on Pinterest

Click here for intro to Educating Thalia

“I knew I’d find you here.”  She’s a vision of loveliness, perched on the old- fashioned leather couch. Pouring through a book on the side table her elbows rest on the arm of the couch and her satin covered ass is in the air, posing on all fours.  Her “fuck me” high heels rest on the leather and she’s wearing his tie, done in a perfect Windsor knot at her lovely neck.  She doesn’t even pay attention to him but the little grin on her face widens and she shifts her hips from side to side.  He places the dessert trays on the coffee table and moves around to face her.  Playfully he rests his cock in the crease of the book. “Need me to point out a word for you?”

He pulls away quickly as she slams the book shut and giggles.  “Oh, my God, that is such a ‘guy’ thing to do,’ she scoffs.

Grabbing her chin in his hand he pushes his thumb roughly across her plump lips.  Her eyes turn serious and a heat of indignation flares behind them.  Chris honestly can’t decide between letting her have freedom of control or watching her push back while he controls her.  Mulling it over, he pulls down on her lip, but she keeps her teeth closed tightly.  Her breathing is controlled and her eyes challenge him.  Tugging down on the blue silk at her neck, her mouth pops open and he pushes his thumb inside.  He wants to laugh when her tongue retreats and she doesn’t play his game.

When he speaks again his voice is low and laced with sex. “You know this position has advantages from both ends…”  Moving closer, holding her stiffly he repeats the same caress with the velvety tip of his cock. With his other hand he runs his touch down her back and gives her plump cheek a quick slap.  Her sweet petals open in a gasp and she licks her tongue over his head. “That’s my girl,” he praises.

Head back, he breathes deeply recognizing the smell of orchids in the air.  He jumps when she nips lightly with her teeth.  Looking down on her, her wild hair falls over her shoulders and her dark eyes show a hint of playfulness.  He steps away, gripping her chin tighter.  “Alright, Miss.  I understand.  Where would you like me?”

Dropping his hands, he folds them neatly in front of him, hiding his cock from her sight.

Confusion passes across her face and bewildered she sits back on the couch.  She looks to the food and back to him and he can almost see her brilliant mind working, thinking on something she’s never really pondered before.

Blushing, she quietly speaks.  “Jesus, Chris, I don’t know.  I’ve never…” She waves her hands in the air as if reaching for words.  “Initiated play before.  I just-”

“Miss.”  His tone stops her and she looks to him for guidance.  His gaze warms as he looks over her body and his cock jumps behind his hand.  He wants her to see the power she has on him, to feel it, to use it.  And in his heart he knows he’s never given that to anyone before.  She truly is special.  “Thalia, what do you want?  I said that tonight you are mine, but that also makes me yours.  Anything;  just ask- no. Just tell me.”

Dropping her eyes, her hand flies to her mouth and she plays with her lip like she does sometimes when she is lost deep in thought.  His heart skips that he knows this about her; he knows some of her quirks.  “Tell me what you want me to do,” he repeats.

Truly at a loss, she says quietly, “I guess you can start by sitting here by me and sharing these treats with me.”

“You guess?”

Closing her eyes in an effort not to roll them, she tries again.  “Chris, sit here by me and feed me a bite of the damn cheesecake.”

Biting back his laughter and her slipped profanity, he walks around the table to the other side and sits on the floor at her feet.  His position is chosen on purpose and with a quick look to her Chris is aware she understands the significance.  The cheesecake is cut into small pieces and he lifts it to her as she leans forward to accept it from him.  Placing it into her mouth her tongue brushes his finger briefly and he isn’t sure if the moan she makes is for their contact or her favorite dessert.

Removing a pillow from the couch, he places it under him and moves one of the trays of sweets and fruits to place it next to her.  Turning, he wraps one of his arms around her leg and leans into her plump calve, resting his chin on her knee.  “Ready for more, Miss?”

She whispers, “I’m not sure if I like that,”  Louder she finishes her sentence, “but I will take more cheesecake.”  He feeds her a larger bite this time, while she reaches over and picks up a piece of his favorite chocolate cake and feeds him. He likes that she knows little things about him too.

They continue feeding each other and he massages her leg.  When she loosens and becomes more comfortable Thalia kicks off the high heels and spreads her legs, resting the other on the edge of the table.  Chris focuses his attention on the growing wet spot on her satin panties and her smell is unmistakable.  In her relaxed state, if she knows or cares, she doesn’t say a word.

“This is quite an amazing collection; have you read them all?”  Thalia asks, lovingly tracing her finger over the gold filigree on the cover of the book next to her.

Forgetting she’s in charge, his large hand slides up her inner thigh and massages her flesh.  “My grandfather passed away right before I moved in.  This was his collection; his handmade shelves.  It seemed pointless to have a dining room, so I put the space to better use.”  He looks around the old-fashioned library style den with wall to wall books.  “Actually, pretty much everything was Pappo’s.

“You can keep touching me if you tell me more about you.  What made you like history so much?”  The tenderness in her words tug at his heart and he opens to her, telling stories he hasn’t told in a long time, things he needs to remember to share with his daughter one day.  At some point in their discourse, her foot had lifted from the floor and was actually placed tenderly on his shaft, rolling her heel back and forth.

When silence falls, she whispers into the night, “Chris, I think you’re hungry for more dessert.” She falters, building her nerve.  “You may remove my clothing now.  But keep the tie where it is.”

#

In the early morning hours he wakes to go to the bathroom. His neck pops and creaks as he rises from the bed, pulling the covers up around her.  Running his hand over his beard, he realizes he’s head over heels for this girl.  This woman…  He tenderly caresses through her curls before wrapping his robe around himself.  He uses the bathroom down the hall for privacy and pads quietly down the stairs to the kitchen for a glass of milk.

Resting against the counter images flash through his mind: eating her out just as sweetly as they’d devoured the cheesecake;  Thalia riding on top of him, using the back of the couch for leverage; still not letting him come, her beautiful breasts in his face, him using the tie to hold her; leaning her over the arm of the couch, pounding her from behind until she cried out his name.  Chasing her up the stairs to his bedroom and falling asleep in each other’s arms…  With each orgasm she had, she became more bold in her requests and she thrived in her mission.  Three.  Their favorite number and he was still resting on the edge.  If he wasn’t sure his release at her creation would be the perfect undoing, he’d jack off himself right now.  Hearing noise from upstairs, he sets the dirty glass in the sink and climbs the steps.

The bed is empty and the shower is running.  Tapping on the door, he remembers his role and inquires, “Miss?  May I come in?”

The door falls open and she laughs, “It’s your house.  You’re still King of the castle.”

Princess pops in his head but he doesn’t want to go there.  The steam envelopes him as he steps inside, dropping the robe to the floor.  The smell of orchids is overwhelming and he finds contents of her big bag spread all over the counter.  Chris doesn’t want to know if she always goes out at night prepared to not return home.

The words escape before he can stop himself.  Bracing against the counter, he asks, “How come you’re always available for overnight dates when I wanna see you?  When do-”

The curtain shrieks along the bar as she slides it back.  “Don’t.  I’m in my ‘Chris bubble’ right now.  My school bubble floats over here.” She randomly points in the air, letting the curtain fall open and he can see in the mirror reflection the water running over her curves and valleys.  “I have a work bubble over here,” she moves her hands again pointing at other ‘bubbles.’  “Family bubbles, friend bubbles and ‘Other.’”  Her eyes plead with him.  “I keep them all separate.  If you wanna do this, let’s talk about it later.  I’m not demanding that of you,” referencing their play.  “But I care about you, and if you really want this conversation, I wanna do it right.”

His fist is so clenched he has nail marks in his palm when he releases it.  “You’re right. ‘Chris bubble,’ huh?  How’d you get so smart?” he asks moving to her outreached hand.  Clasping it, he steps over the edge of the tub to join her.  “Speaking of bubbles, wanna bath instead?” he asks.

“Not big enough, babe,” she admits with a blush.  “But that’s okay. I’ve already figured out the benefits of this ledge,” she teases with a wink as he pulls her close.  Reaching down she picks up the pink shampoo container with glitter and a cartoon princess on the front.  “This could lead to a lot of questions if I didn’t know your story.”

Grabbing it from her hand and clutching it to his chest between them, he huffs, “I’ll have you know, this is mine.  It is my favorite.”  One handed, he pops the top and a bubblegum scent escapes.  He snaps it shut quickly. “Damn, I never realized before that stinks.” Reaching around the curtain, he tosses it onto the floor.  While she twists her hair back and ties it on itself into a bun he regains his composure.  In that position her tit presents itself to him perfectly and he latches onto it for a sweet suckle, while pinching the other till she moans.  His tongue lathes over the pretty pink ink marked on her skin in memory of her friend.  “Simply beautiful.”   With his deep timbred voice he asks, “And Miss, just how exactly do you plan to use that ledge?  What would you like me to do?”

The depths of her dark chocolate eyes positively gleam with desire.  She nervously runs her thumb across her pink lips while her other hand plays with the beads of water clinging to his chest hairs. Her hesitation is endearing.

“Say it, Thalia.  What?”

Scoffing, she takes in a deep breath and strengthens.  “I really like that you’re strong enough to support me, Chris.  It’s a goddamn turn on.  I’d really like you to fuck me against this shower wall so hard, the tiles crack, and catch me if I fall.”

Pulling his lips back in over his teeth he bites down and hides his smile, a huff of air escaping through his nose.  She turns her body away from him, pushing her breasts to the tile wall and folding her arms above her head.  Her ass pushes out and brushes against his hip.  “Fuuuck, Miss. Ask and you shall receive.”

Taking her orchid scented soap, he lathers it on his hands and covers suds all over her body.  His hands run over her curves and love handles, soothing and cleaning every inch. Tracing over the pattern of stretch marks on her hip, he bends to kiss them tenderly.  Her quiet mewls and pants echo against the tiles. The increased soap slick allows hims to massage roughly into her shoulders, wiping away her tension.  Massaging down over her back, he takes his sweet time washing over her ass, taking the shower head to rinse away the bubbles simply to soap her up again.  Squeezing and pulling at her skin, he smacks it, loving the rippling bounce of her flesh.

“Again,” comes the muffled sound of her voice, her head resting in the crook of her elbow.

He smacks the other cheek, a bit harder than the first.  “Thalia, do you like that?”

“Yes, sir.” She replies.  “Sometimes.”

Sir.  That’s new.   His blood begins to boil but he stamps the thought down.   His jealousy is still felt in his harsh touch as he kneads over her ass and her cries of pleasure grow louder.  Plucking her skin, he watches it spring back into place.  Her peach-shaped ass is perfect and he longs to bite from it.  Washing away the soap, he kneels behind her and caresses along her divide.  Her sounds heighten and she moans louder as he separates her cheeks and swipes his tongue across her freshly cleaned plane.  “Oh, fuck,” she cries out as her legs shake.  “Chris, I-”

“Shh, Niña.  I’ll stop if you tell me to.”  His fingers reach up between her legs, meeting with her wet juices before he even dives into the prize.  Thrusting in and out of her dripping cunt, he swipes through with his tongue again across her pretty pink hole.  “But something tells me you don’t really want me to stop.”  His voice is low and quiet and full of lust.  He continues to plunge into her slick pussy, pushing her against the wall, but he rests his head against the side of the her thigh.  “Hey, look down at me…” Their eyes meet and her visible hunger is greater than her fear.  “Thalia, I mean it, if you say ‘stop,’ I will. But I promise, literally, you’re in good hands.  If I hadn’t studied you and learned enough about you over the last several weeks, I wouldn’t even offer this to you.  But, really, sweetheart, you have such a luscious peachy ass, so juicy and round, I really just have to have a taste.”  Flicking his thumb over her clit, the shivers ripple through her body as she moans, nodding yes.

“I want what you want.  I’ve just… never, and it’s-”

“It’s whatever two people want, Thalia.  This is just us, you and me.  There’s no taboo when two people agree.  No damn safewords, just tell me no and I’ll stop.”

Dropping her hand she pets the side of his cheek, scratching her fingertips through his scruff.  “I trust you.  I’m yours.”  Placing her fingers to his lips she makes a kissy sound and presses against him, delivering her kiss.

Impaling her a few more times with his fingers, he slides out and licks them clean, moaning at her taste.  “You taste tangy and sweet, delicious.”  His other hand teases across her hole gently applying pressure with his thumb, but not seeking to gain entry.  He turns the heat up on the water splashing down over them, resting the nozzle at the top of her curve so it sweeps down over her ass cheeks in tiny little rivers.  As his hands become more desperate over her flesh, her body arches against the tile wall and her ass is pushed towards him as she slides her feet apart a bit more, opening herself to him, giving herself.  A lovely gift indeed.

Pushing against her tight hole again her head hangs down and her heavy pants and moans fill the shower, echoing in his ears and causing his cock to jump and spring to life.  He wishes he could see her face, read her, share this with her in a more connected sense.  As if she hear his thoughts, she brings one arm behind her and caresses over the top of his buzzed head and tugs at his earlobe.

Ignoring the pain in his knees Chris divides her cheeks again and watches her anal ridges pulse.  She jumps when he washes over her with his tongue flat and wide. His beard brushes over her sensitive skin.  She keens loudly and he supports her buckling legs.  “Oh, hell, again,” she whines.  “Please.”

“My pleasure,” he announces before he dives forward again, his heart pounding in his chest.   Virgin.  First time.  His cock aches to be inside her knowing he’s too much for a first time tonight, but he can enjoy teasing her, warming her up to the idea.  His tongue continues to bathe over her as she balances and adjusts, her breathy gasps giving away her building heat.  With a last flick of his tongue over her taint, he brings his mouth back to her virgin hole, placing an open mouthed kiss, with a gentle push of his tongue.  Instinctively, she pushes back, her cries loud and desirous.  “Chris, fuck, yea.”  She grasps the top of his head, but there’s no hair to pull on and he silently curses the decision for a buzz cut as he so intimately kisses her again.

This time, his tongue penetrates briefly into the tight spot before she pushes him out.  Using his thumb for another try, he rubs over her while he gently nibbles the flesh around her delicate ass hole.  Sitting back on his heels and shifting his weight, he tugs himself a few times just to relieve his pressure and realizes she’s squeezing and pinching at her breast and she’s carrying herself to the edge.  “This time, baby, when I push in, you have to push back.  You’ll feel it; you’ll know what to do.  You’re doing great, Thalia.”

“But if I push out?”  Her voice is slightly tense, voicing an unspoken concern.

“No, baby, it’ll be fine, I promise.”  He knows he can’t promise that, but he wants to keep her calm as he caresses over her asshole again.

She groans and nods her head, trusting him, her legs still trembling.  She really can’t take much more.  With his thumb he circles tenderly around her ridges once aain before pushing against her puckered flesh.  Thalia whimpers but complies with his instructions and he sinks into her tight cavern to his knuckle, holding still before her body pushes him away.  “Ow, oh fuck, that was…”

Freezing, Chris caresses her cheeks, kissing sweetly on her tender flesh.  “Do you want me to stop, Thalia?”

“No. No.  Oh, fuck, Chris.  That felt so… different. Good going in, but not so great coming out…”

“Practice makes perfect, right?  If you want me to stop, just say so.”  Reacting quickly, he does it again, patting at her leg and whispering what a good girl she is, encouraging her.  Recognizing his good fortune of being her first he tenderly cares for her as he pushes with more strength. Her cries don’t falter and come in repetitions as her space opens and accepts him.

“Yes, yes, uhh-huh,” she repeats as his thumb slides all the way in and he holds momentarily giving her time to acclimate to the foreign feel. Pulling out carefully, he rises to catch her as her legs buckle and he holds her by pushing their bodies against the wall.

“Hey, beautiful.  I’ve got you.  You’re alright.”  He loses himself in her hazy eyes and craves making her feel that way again.

Driven by desire, over her shoulder her mouth hungrily seeks his.  He greedily accepts her kisses, their tongues dancing together as her cries are captured in his mouth.

Separating their lips, she presses her temple to his.  “No more, not tonight.  But you can finish fucking me and you get to come.  There’s a condom there, on the corner.”

While he washes his hands carefully and they rinse with the mouthwash on the ledge, he keeps his body pressed to hers.  She still trembles in her weakened state.  The water’s growing colder and it’s time to finish what she started hours before when they entered the house.

Sliding the condom on, he snaps it into place and adjusts it before positioning himself behind her, caging her against the wall with his powerful body.  Without a sound she folds her arms over her head anew, grabbing one wrist and raising her foot to perch on the shower ledge.  “This right here, I love his,” he growls in her ear, the wet tendrils of curls tickling his nose as he grabs her hips and pulls her back onto his cock.  He guides her to take a step backwards and her bottom tilts perfectly for him to curve into her waiting pussy.  “You’re so ready and hot.  You’re fuckin’ on fire, Thalia.  I love how your juice heats me.”  With his hands gripping her tightly, he digs into her flesh, sure to leave a mark.  He forcefully sinks into her over and over, each thrust deeper than the one before. He loves watching her ass bump against him when he’s in to the hilt, the way her skin rolls with each reaming.  “God, I could watch your ass all day, Niña.  It’s beautiful how it bounces against me.”

When he feels the blood rushing to his cock, he prepares for their finish.  Leaning over her, he runs one hand tenderly up her spine, watching goosebumps swell over her dark skin.  Placing his hand on her shoulder, he’s able to force her in a downward motion on his cock and his grunts increase as he powers into her.  Their sounds echo together in the shower and the noise fills the quiet house. Her fingers above flex and he uses the other hand to hold her in place, knowing she aches to tease her clit.  So he takes back control as her walls squeeze around him and he can feel her pressure build as she starts to come, her cries louder, unable to catch her breath..

Through her release Thalia becomes soft under him, more pliable as the muscles in her back relax and she loosens to take more of his pounding, her hand turning in his to lace between his fingers.  Strong and gentle, willing to bend her will to meet his, both sharing power in a delicate balance.  The cerebral thought of their togetherness is what does him in as he tips over the edge and he pulses streams of his come into the thin condom separating them.

Her walls still constrict around him, milking him and pulling all of the seed from him as he falls against her back, holding her up and supporting them both.  He peppers her soft skin with kisses feeling the water turn cold as she shivers in his arms.  Kissing the crook of her neck, he pulls out and tells her, “Stay, Miss, let me get you warm.”  Turning the water off, he steps out of the shower, discarding the condom and reaching for his robe and fluffy towels.  The air in the bathroom is still warm and steamy but it won’t last long.

Stepping back into the shower, Chris dries her off, gently lifting her legs and patting between them gingerly taking care not to hurt her tender parts   He dries her back and her mid section, lifting each rounded globe and drying carefully, playfully tweaking her nipples before wrapping a towel around her and tucking it in over her enticing breasts  Her arms are still above her head as he dries one, then the other.  His eyes darken and heat rises in his belly.

“Thalia, open your eyes.”  She follows his directive and she can see what he sees.  The dark marks on her arm, a large hand print wrapped around her bicep.  “I didn’t do that, and the punk in the hallway the other day had you by the other arm.  Does he hurt you?”

Her eyes drop and she shakes her head.  “No, it’s not like that.” Tears fill her eyes.  “It’s different, but he would never hurt me, just like I know you wouldn’t.”

The tears have him concerned and he turns her in his arms, holding her close.  Resting her head under his chin, her body still shakes in his arms.  He tangles his fingers in her curls and massages against her scalp.  He should have given her more time to come down from her euphoric high, but his concern for her overpowered him.  “Honey, if he doesn’t hurt you, then why are you crying?”

She scoffs and sniffs back her tears, “I guess it’s my damned Catholic school training, but shouldn’t there be something wrong in finding pleasure in the pain? I just feel like it’s so fuckin’ messed up, you know?”

Leaning back, he looks into her beautiful face and his mind whirls.  She’s not just talking about him.  What the fuck is she in to?  What does the other bastard have her do for him?  Stomach churning, he helps her put on the robe and ties it loosely around her.  “Walk to the door and wait for me there.”

Drying off quickly, he cloaks the towel around his tapered waist, running the other towel over his buzzed head.

“Did you just dry your hair?” she laughs, wiping her nose and a tear that escaped.  “You’re ridiculous.”

He walks to her, slipping on the wet tile and she reaches out to him.  “I told you not to throw your back out.  How am I supposed to explain that to the paramedics?”

“Using humor again as a defense now.  Nice… You’re not changing the topic this time, Thalia.”  Sweeping her into his arms basket style, he carries her over to the bed, setting her down gently.  He rests at her feet, putting a pillow under his knees.  “Thank God you’re worth it, cause you are hell on my knees…”  He wipes away a tear and reaches behind her to pull the knot loose from her hair.  It tumbles around her in waves, a tangled mess.  From the dresser by his bed he hands her another pink bottle and a large toothed comb.

“Shit.  I’ll say it again, and it’s not meant to be creepy, but detangler by your bed?  You are a really good dad,” she giggles.

“I take care of the people important to me.  Now what’s this all about?  Tell me, Thalia.  Because honestly, right now I wanna beat the shit out of whoever makes you feel this way.”

The detangler works like magic and she slowly works the comb through her hair, relaxing her.  Chris leans forward and crosses his arms on her thighs, resting his head and turning to watch her as she works.  “There’s no one to beat up.  It’s all in my head and that’s why it’s so fuckin’ scary.”

“Are you hurt?  Have I hurt you?  You said pain.  I’m a little confused. What are you talking about?”

She sighs and drops her head, embarrassed.  “Chris, it’s just all so damn confusing and too much, especially without telling you things I don’t want you to know about me.”

“So you like some kinky stuff, it’s not a bad thing,” he reminds her, gently caressing her exposed leg.  “I just prefer you do those things with me, that’s all.  You’re mine, remember?”

“Yes, I’m yours,” she smiles. and sighs  “Except when I’m not.”

His heart feels stomped on.  But he remembers, he does seem to get more of her nights than the other man, and he wonders again if she’s seeing someone who is married.  Brushing it aside, he asks again.  “What do you mean about the pain?”

“I don’t know.  It just all seems odd to me and maybe I’m too young to get it, but why do some spankings feel so good, why do I let myself be told what to do, why do I like bossing you around so much?”  Resting the comb in her lap, she laughs, rubbing over the top of his head and scratching behind his ear.  “It just doesn’t make sense and seem right to me when I lay down at night and truly let myself think about it.  I’m a smart, intelligent woman.  I can do things on my own.  So why am I letting a man control me?”

“Shit. Ok?”  Chris rises to sit in the middle of the bd, resting against the headboard.  He pats his chest and indicates for her to crawl into his space.  Enveloping his arms around her, she snuggles next to him.  “You want the psychology of it?  Every three semesters, I teach History of Sex.  You should sign up for it in the fall.  Very popular class,” he jokes.  “Niña, like I said earlier, it’s whatever two people choose.  What’s right for you and me might be wrong for you and someone else.  It’s all about the care and respect two people share.”  He kisses the top of her head and sweeps her hair back looping his fingers through the curls.  She lifts her leg, resting it on across his Adonis to feel closer to him and he pulls her thigh, resting her leg in a better spot, hugging it to him.  “As for why you like it?  It doesn’t make you dark and twisted, or dirty, sweetheart.  Think about your day.  You live alone. You take care of yourself.  You’re far from your beloved family back in Chicago.  Your brain moves a hundred miles an hour all day long as you move from class to class, and prep your work for the class you TA.  You’ve got your research with the British ‘arse;’ your work at the bar; you’ve got a few friends you make time for; somehow you juggle two boyfriends and you work relentlessly sending out resumes to museums and dig sites in all corners of the world.” He pauses taking a deep breath.

“Fuck, I’m getting tired just thinking about all that, and then you come home and sleep and wake up the next day to do it all again.  Man, I’m a real shit head for pulling you in to work with the History Department.” He chuckles and she taps his chest, winding her fingers through the smattering of hair.

“So I’m always on the go.  Tell me something I don’t know,” she replies sarcastically, running her fingers over the raised skin where a famous quote is etched, his tat dark against his pale skin.

“Yea, and you do it all alone.  Maybe I get a few hours every few days to make sure you eat, or sleep, or get laid.  But you’re alone and you’re making all the decisions.  That’s tough; it’s a daunting task.  And it’s amazing you do that; it’s fuckin’ sexy, Thalia.  But when you find time to relax, to wind down, you just want someone else to take charge, tell you want to do.  It doesn’t make you any less powerful.  Ultimately, even in those type relationships the submissive partner is the driving force.  Even when I tell you what to do, you have the power to say no, and I wouldn’t really ask you to do anything I didn’t think you’d enjoy.  And when you power over me, it’s just so damn sexy.  And for me, when you do, I like watching the way you think, how you get flustered at first and then grow into it as a woman and let yourself take control.”

“It works because of trust,” she states simply.

“Trust and care, yeah.  I considered jacking off earlier, but I knew you cared enough, and I trusted you’d make my pain and suffering all night worth it.  And it sure fuckin’ was, Thalia.  You’re worth it.”

Sighing, she kisses along his ribcage.  “Thank you, Chris.  That does make me feel better.  I guess because I’m surrounded by people, I don’t realize I am alone a lot of the time.  It is nice when you take care of me.”

“Good; I like it too.  You better now?  Can we go back to sleep?”  He doesn’t want to think any more about the other bastard.  Getting her mind all twisted like that… The morning sun begins to break through the window and his voice is sleepy and lazy.  “No class tomorrow, but I need to put in some office hours.  What time do you need to get back?

“Well, I gotta go home and change and get my computer.  I don’t know.  Can we leave around eleven, maybe grab a bite to eat?”

“Perfect.  Sleep beautiful girl.”  Other words and thoughts float in his head but he chokes on them.

“Goodnight my man,” she whispers and the two quickly fall back asleep tired from their exploits in the early morning hours.

Click here to read Chapter 29 Warped Fairy Tales

Copyright 2017  avenger-nerd-mom.  All rights reserved. Intellectual property of avenger-nerd-mom and devikafernando

Baking Cakes

*Emery&Chris*

*a Chris Evans fan fic*

by avenger-nerd-mom

Chris gets some time away from filming to surprise his wife Emery at their Savannah home.  He knows it will be a difficult visit, but home is where he is needed.

Word count: 2481

Drabble inspired by the cover photo in my collection.  It was found on Pinterest of actress Rachelle Lafevre, the “faceclaim” for Emery Thomas Evans.  Emery has been telling me parts of this story for weeks, and it’s a plot point I’ve known would happen since I began writing their tale in 2015.

Rumors of sightings in Atlanta and Chris’s birthday coming up prompted me to sit down and write this chapter.  The thing I’ve always loved about Emery&Chris is the fact that even though he’s a famous movie star, when he’s with Emery, he’s real.  And real life shit happens.  This is just a step on their path; no matter what happens, they’re together “till the end of the line.”

Warnings: Real life, Marriage, Language, Fluff, pain, loss, tears, depression, angst, fertility issues, insecurities, anxiety, family support

Based on these warnings, if you would like more information on this chapter before reading, please send me a message.  I do not want to give away any plot points to the story, but I also don’t want to trigger emotional distress for any of my readers.

Click here to find out more about Emery & Chris!

June 2017

“Lucy, I’m home!” Chris calls out in a silly voice, reminiscent of an old TV show.. The door bangs open and West’s barks echo through the house; happy her favorite playmate is home.

“Shit,” comes the muttered response from the kitchen.

Dropping his bags at the door, Chris chuckles, grabbing a stack of mail from the shelf on his way past.  “Is that any way to treat your returning war hero?”

Emery whirls around quickly stretching her arms wide on the counter to hide what’s behind her.

“Oh, honey.  Fuck.  Do you gotta come home in costume?  I think my panties just burst into flames,” she giggles.  “But… but.  You gotta go away.” Her mood changes and panic crosses her face.  “Go do…  something.  Go to the mancave and get a beer, or take West for a walk or something.”

“Emery Rose!  I have not seen my wife in… in what?  Seven days?”  He holds up his hands in surrender when she starts waving a spatula at him.  “No welcome home kiss?  Aren’t you- Em, are you hiding something?”

“Chris, go away! Please!”  She begins to pout when he dodges right and left to try to get a look at what she’s hiding on the new island counter.

Tossing the mail onto the table, he moves closer. “What is it?  Let me see!”  He says, finally grabbing her wrist with the cream covered spatula.  He raises it to his mouth and tentatively sticks his tongue on it.  “Buttercream.  My favorite.”

“Chris!  No. Stop.  You’ll ruin the surprise,” Emery nearly cries, her eyes welling up.

The handsome movie star freezes in his tracks.  “Alright. I’ll stop.  If you won’t walk away from whatever it is, then follow me to the living room.”

Still holding her by the wrist he begins to walk out of the room and she follows him, only to have been tricked when he twirls her around to see what she was hiding.

“Oh my God, Em.  Really?”  He steps forward, his own eyes starting to mist over.  “Is that for me?”

“Well, actually no, this one wasn’t for you.  It’s a practice cake.  I’m still working on getting it down perfect.  There’s a bubble in the fondant and-”

The counter is littered with bowls, measuring cups and egg shells.  In the center of the mess sits a round cake on a spinning wheel platform, slightly lopsided and only half decorated.

“Emery,” he pulls her close, truly looking at his beautiful wife for the first time since he’d walked through the door of their small Savannah home.  It’s theirs now.  It’s where they fell in love.  He’s not about to let it go.  He pushes her red curls back, seeing the flour dusting across her cheeks, covering the cute freckles he loves.  “You made me a cake from scratch?”

“Yea, well,” she shrugs.  “You told me to find something to take my mind off things.  I wanted to surprise you, so I’ve been taking some cake baking and decorating classes.”

“But my birthday is still a few days away…” He says, delivering a faint wisp of a kiss to the tip of her nose, holding her tight and trying to keep the tears at bay.

“I know.  This was a practice.  I was gonna take it over to Mom and Dad’s tonight so we could sample it.  Then next week I was going to make the real one- Susan was going to let me come to their rental house and use the big kitchen there and then I was going to bring it to the set and surprise you.  So, surprise!” she giggles, wiping away her tears.

“Robert’s wife?”  She nods and he wipes her tear stained cheeks.  “Stop crying.   The flour and the tears will make a paste on your cheeks…  I promise, I’ll still be surprised.”

She taps her fist against his muscular arm.  “Fool, you know that’s not why I am crying.  I cry all the time; it just won’t stop.”

He holds her tight and let’s the wave of sobs wrack through her little body.  Her pain is killing him and there is nothing he can do.  “Shh, shh… it’s okay, honey, I’m home now.  We got this; we got this.”

When the tears stop, she hiccups a little and reaches behind her for the bowl of frosting.  It’s hardened during the short period of time and is no longer useful.  “Well, I hope you think it looks good as is, ‘cause I can’t finish it now.”

“It’s perfect, kitten, just like you,” Chris says against her temple.  He steps back.  “I should have told you I had some time off, but it really came up quick and I wanted to surprise you.  You have other plans?  A hot date?”

Shaking her head, she wipes her nose on her sleeve.  “Just with Mom and Dad.  They wanted me to come over for dinner; he was gonna grill burgers, but I can cancel and we-”

“No, no.  Actually nothing sounds better right now than a real burger and a beer.  Why don’t you go get the shower going and I’ll give them a call and tell Mom to cook for one extra?”

He hides his concern for her, not collapsing in the kitchen chair until he hears her enter the bedroom.  Banging his fist on the table he holds in his own despair, trying to be brave for his wife.  But right now, he could really use a dose of Mom and Dad too, and his own are too far away.  He punches in the familiar number on the keypad and the Southern twang on the other end instantly brightens his mood.  “Hey, Mom.  Got room for one more at dinner?”  he asks quietly, trying to keep it together.

His mother-in-law, Anita, instantly knows his chest is tight and he’s holding in his own feelings. “Oh, Chris.  Of course.  There’s always room for one more.  Sounds like the whole gang might be here; is that too much?”

He shakes his head, digging in his pocket for a pack of cigarettes, wishing he hadn’t given them up for Lent at his new bride’s insistence.  It’s an old habit but he really could use one now.  She’s not even Catholic, and he doesn’t practice anymore, but she’d required they both make one positive change in their lives to remember the season of rebirth.  He rolls his eyes and smiles.  “I don’t know, Mom, what do you think?  I… I came home because I may have to work hard, long hours the days right around my birthday.  I mean, they gave me time off when I needed it, but that messed up some schedules for other people and now I feel like I’m paying for it.”

“Chris, honey, you can’t control any of that.  If anything, this is just a lesson in how little control any of us really have.  The good Lord works in ways we don’t understand and-”

His gut twists and Chris interrupts.  “I really can’t over the phone, Mom.  I haven’t been home in two weeks; we had a great time when Emery was in Atlanta with me last week; but if you don’t think Em can handle the family all together, she and I can do something else for dinner tonight.”

“Nonsense, son.  I think she’ll be okay; it’ll be good for you both.  It’s actually been easier on her since she finally put it out in the open and started talking.”

“Alright, Mom.  Hey, did you know she’s been learning to bake cakes?”

“Oh, child, let’s hope this one is better than the ones a few weeks ago.  They were like lead bricks in my stomach for hours,” she teases.

Hanging up the phone, Chris turns to admire the blue cake with white stars.  He can see the red frosting mixed and hardened into a bowl and smiles at the design she must have planned.  The outer layer of frosting is tough, but stabbing the knife through it, the inside is edible and he carries the bowl and knife with him to the room.

He’s surprised to find her laying on their bed, playing with her wedding ring.

He sucks in a breath and sits on the bed next to her.  Offering her a dab of frosting, she huffs and shakes her head ‘no.’  They sit in silence and he continues to lick the frosting from the end of the butter knife, humming his delight.  Emery stares at her ring, rolling it in her fingers, her elbow now rested on his knee.

“Chris?  Are you ever sorry we got married?”

“Oh, hell, babe.  How can you even ask that?”  Wiping his hand over his face in frustration, he then pulls his shirt out of the waist of his pants, wanting more room to move.  She continues to stare at something only she can see, avoiding his eye contact. “Emery, I know these first six months have been tougher than we thought, and we never expected any of this.  You were sick most of the winter, your grandmother’s passing and then…  Well, and then... “  His throat chokes on the words and he can’t bring himself to say them.   “It was just a lot of stress on you; on us.  But no.  I still know marrying you was the best decision I’ve ever made in my whole damn life.”

Leaning forward, he places the bowl on his bedside table.  He kicks off his shoes and lays down next to her.  On his side, he watches her, thinking of the freckles on her face and how he adores them.  Her long lashes flutter closed and she rolls her head to look at him.

“What if that was our one shot?  What if something isn’t right and we can’t have kids; would you be sorry then; if I can’t give you what you want?”  Her voice shakes and he can barely hear her whispered words.

His hand takes hers and he carefully pries the ring from her grasp, sliding it back on her finger where it should always be.  Where it will always stay.  He kisses her hand gently.  “I married you for YOU, not what you can give me someday…  You know the doctors said we’re both fine.  All the antibiotics and steroids you took when you were sick; we weren’t even trying.  I mean, how often does the pill fail?”

Holding his hand tight, she scoffs.  “Are you asking for a statistical lesson?”

Placing his hand on her hip, he pulls her close.  “No, kitten, I’m just begging you not to sink into it too low.  All those medicines in your system; that baby just wasn’t a fighter like his mama.   We’ll really try again when you’re ready.  And you know if it doesn’t work, there are so many other options for kids,” he sighs.

“You’re right; I know.  It’s just…  Is it crazy to miss something the size of a peanut?  I mean, he wasn’t even kicking yet.  But he was a part of us, you know?”  Tears escape her eyes and she tries to wipe them away.

Wrapping his arms around his girl, he rolls her over on top of him, squeezing her tight, trying to hold her together.   He cradles her head to his chest as the salty tears gather on his shirt collar.  He loves that she thinks of their lost child as a him, although at only a nine weeks along, they had no way of knowing the gender.  His wife is always so strong and tough, a steel magnolia, so he finds her insecurities unsettling and struggles with his own pain and sadness at the loss.  They’ve talked about it, and therapy has been good for them both. He doesn’t want to be an ass and just tell her to ‘move on.’  He’s hoping in time this pain will be less and she’ll start to be more herself.  But time and patience is all he can give her now.

“I understand, sweetheart.  I feel the same.  Like there’s nothing to physically mourn, but there’s a whole in my chest.”

She sniffles again and he’s pretty sure she wiped her nose on his shirt.  “You know, all this has been rough.  I picked cake baking because it reminds me of something MawMaw Dalia used to always say.  She said havin’ kids was like baking cakes.  Everything has to be balanced just right for the cake to rise and not to open the oven door too much, ‘cause the cake knows what it’s supposed to do.  She said the same with kids, balance them right and they’ll grow up with what they need, and they’ll rise to do what they should.”

Chris can’t really wrap his head around the Southern analogy, so he stays quiet, simply running his fingers through her long red curls.

“So I keep baking cakes for practice and taking them to the schools where I work.  Teachers love to hear there’s food in the workroom.  And I keep telling myself our cake just wasn’t balanced this time.  I cry a lot and then I make another cake.”

“Whenever you’re ready, we can practice again, making our ‘baby cake.’  I’d really like to have lots of practice,” he laughs.  “Lots of it.”

Pulling away from him, she wipes her tear stained face for what seems like the thousandth time. Looking down into his beautiful blue eyes, she can’t help but laugh with him.   Her teary, red shot eyes rest against his suit and she cocks her eyebrow.  “Well, seeing as how you came home dressed like Steve, maybe later tonight you could convince me to help you rehearse?”

“Oh no,” he chuckles, relieved to have lifted her even just slightly from her sadness.  “Tonight, I’m having sex with my wife, if she’ll let me; not Steve.  I mean I know we like that role play every now and then, but tonight it’s just us.  After dinner with your family, of course.”

“Mr. Evans, I still didn’t get that shower.  I got lost in my thoughts.  How about you join me, and help wash all my troubles away.”

“Well, Mrs. Evans, I think that sounds like a lovely plan!  And then some of that cake?  It’s looks amazing, and I don’t think I can wait till dinner.”

Sliding down from his body and rolling off the bed, she stands and pulls her flour dusted tank top over her head, tossing it to him.  Remembering the night she first told him she loved him, a thought jumps to her mind.  “You always did want dessert first; come on.  Let’s clean up, Jelly Bean, so we can get dirty.”  She winks playfully, a lift to her spirits as she runs off to their bathroom, squealing when he finally catches up to her and spins her around in his big, strong arms.

Author’s Note: R.I.P. “MawMaw” Nadalia- March 3, 2017.  Author’s license was taken from something I once said to my husband about baking cakes and raising children, but was given here in memory of my grandmother.

Click here for the next Emery&Chris story, Online Shopping

Copyright © 2017  avenger-nerd-mom.  All rights reserved. Intellectual property of avenger-nerd-mom

 

 

Mine Tonight

Chapter 27

Educating Thalia

Collaboration by @avenger-nerd-mom & @devikafernando

AU FICTION

A collaboration involving Professor Hiddleston and Professor Evans- The two are rivals at a posh New England university and have no idea they both have taken interest in the lovely Thalia Bareo. She’s a grad student with interests in language and history; a sassy full-figured Puerto Rican girl from Chicago.  Story updates are posted on Wednesdays and Sundays.

Word count: 4654

Warnings:  Language, Adult Situations, food porn, NSFW, nipple play, oral sex, face fuck, delayed gratification, edging, denied orgasm

Summary:  Chris takes Thalia on a date since their last meeting in public lead to a fight.  This time he intends to make it perfect.

Click here for intro to Educating Thalia

The next night, Chris can’t believe how beautiful she looks in the wrap style red dress with a simple gold chain at her neck.  The little pendant falls just so in her bountiful cleavage and he can’t wait to take a closer look at it later.  The heels honestly make her the same height as him, and he’s so honored to have her on his arm as the whole place seems to watch them walk to their table.  Her shoulders are back and her head is held high, but with his hand on the small of her back, he can feel her trembling, a total ball of nerves.  Holding her seat out for her, as she sits, he can’t help the small whistle of appreciation that escapes his lips.  “Christopher!  Behave yourself,” she admonishes him, her smile growing by the minute.

Pushing her chair in, he leans down over her shoulder, whispering in her ear.  “So does that dress have one or two ties holding it closed?”

“Stop it!” She blushes as she swats his arm.

Taking the seat closest to her, she eyes him warily.  “I believe it’s proper etiquette to sit across from the lady at dinner so you can admire her.  You’re in the wrong seat, sir.”

She halts her teasing when the waiter comes to take their drink orders.  Chris watches her bite her lip as his hand runs up her thigh, holding back his own laughter when she clamps her legs shut tight.

Pushing his hand away when the waiter leaves, she rises proper again.  “Chris, stop.  I mean,” she shakes her head and blushes.  “Chris.  I really don’t want you to stop, but,” she sighs and scrunches her face up the way she sometimes does when she doesn’t want to say what she needs to say that Chris finds so adorable.

“When you do that, and scrunch your nose and pout out your lips, it’s adorable,” Chris tells her.

Blushing, the pink rose brings out her freckles and he leans back in his seat, placing his hands on the table.  “What did you want to tell me, Niña?

She tilts her head back and pushes her hair from her face.  This is going to be a long night if he can’t stop his thoughts or his hands.  “Babe, I rarely get taken on ‘fancy’ dates like this.”  She gestures to the menu, “I don’t even know what half this stuff is; it’s exciting and makes me feel special.  I want to enjoy it.  I’ve worked in restaurants before.” Her hand rests on his, laying on the table.  “The staff always knows when the woman is getting groped under the table; I don’t want to be that gi- that woman tonight.  Please.”  She licks her lips nervously waiting for his response.

Nodding his head, he takes a drink of water with his free hand.  With his other, he turns it slowly and slides his fingers to entwine with hers.  “I understand; tonight is about you.” Reaching across he tucks her hair behind her ear and says, “Anything you want, just ask.  But I can’t control my thoughts and when I get you home with me tonight, you’re all mine.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” she grins.

Scouring the menu, they both make their decisions and laugh at the combination of fruits and vegetables in the salad.  She tears off a small bite of the seasoned garlic bread and her absolute joy is heavenly.  “Carbs,” she whispers.  “Oh, my God…”

“What are talking about?”  Laughing as he dips his bread in the olive oil.  “So we don’t ‘date’ but we eat together a lot.  I’ve seen you eat pizza, pancakes and hamburgers and those-”

“You know, as an adult male, those are really unhealthy food options.  I should feed you better,” she giggles.  “A Puerto Rican girl this size? She can cook!  Arroz con gandules…. Oh, as cold as it’s been I should fix asopao.  No. No, you’re Italian, I should make pastelón!  You’ll never want regular lasagna again.”

Her eyes gleam and dance, her accent growing thick as the foreign words fall from her lips.  “Yes to all of it, whatever you want, considering I have no idea what any of that is, but I love hearing you say it.   Growing up, did your family visit Puerto Rico?”

Thalia tells him her adventures as a child visiting her father’s family and running through the fields of sugarcane with her cousins who still lived on the island. She pauses long enough for the waiter to serve their meals and she turns her questions to him, asking about his travels and journeys as a historian.  Through discussion they even discover at one point they had both been swimming in the caves at Grand Cenote on the Yucatan peninsula within days of one another and had been to many ‘off the map’ historic stops, leaving them to wonder if they had crossed paths years before, when Thalia was still an undergrad.

The conversation flows freely and lightly.  Chris watches in awe as he can see her brain jump from one topic to the next and she shares so many random facts about the places they’ve both seen, things he didn’t even know.  Her skin glows in the candle light on the table and as she relaxes, her posture falls a bit, allowing the front of her dress to gape just enough to provide him with a lovely view.  Occasionally she rubs her leg against his and smiles innocently.  But the damn little lick of her lip lets him know she knows exactly what she’s doing.

When the meal winds down, Chris wipes his mouth on his napkin and lays it next to his plate.  “So Miss Teaching Assistant; what’s my grade?  Did I pass our first date?  You’re not still mad at me like the other night?  I wasn’t sure who to worry more about- you killing me or Jim?”

A quick pink rises up her chest and across her cheeks.  “Sorry about that little display.  Oh, but thank you by the way for the heater; you didn’t have to do that; you never answered my text? And I really hate presents, just so you know.” Tilting her head from side to side, she rubs her lips together.  “I was having a really bad day, but you know about that?  You reported the creep?  I heard about that…”  Her eyes drop briefly and the shade of pink grows darker.  “I spoke in anger, and I said things I didn’t me-”

Putting his hand over hers, “Thalia, you were right.  You’re too amazing to keep hidden away.  I should be taking you out, enjoying things with you.  And I sure as hell hope I’ve never made you feel the way you said.  If I did, I’m so, so sorry, and I will do everything I can to fix it. If I’ve ever made you feel not important or special to me-” Stopping himself he sighs.  He scoffs.  “Wanna hear something funny?  Everyone knew how crazy I was about my wife.   Oh, I know girls took my class just to get a look at me, and there were jokes about trading favors for As, but none of that was true.  Thalia, you are the first woman to catch my eye since my divorce.”  He grasps her hands and moves closer to her, looking into her dark eyes.  “I wanna make sure you hear this… When I make a commitment, I’m there.  I’m all in.  I may have sown a few wild oats after the divorce; I’d been with the same woman since I was twenty- two.  But revenge sex wasn’t all it was cracked up to be and at my age now, I grew tired of it.  I hadn’t been with anyone in nearly five months till you came along.  You are important to me. And too bad, there will be more gifts because I like getting little things for people I care about.  It’s no different than you making me dinner or bringing me breakfast on days we work together.”  He winks at her, removing his glasses and putting them in his coat pocket.  “And if I haven’t said it before, or made you feel it, shame on me.  I’d like to make that up to you tonight, if you’ll let me.”

Her eyes are wide with his confession and he wonders what she thinks. As he’s been talking her mouth has slowly dropped open, breathing as though she can’t get enough air and her hands are warm in his.  “Yes, Chris, I’d like that.  Very much.” Dropping her eyes, she blushes and says quietly, “You’re important to me too.  I like the time we share together.  It’s… different.”

Briefly he wonders if she means ‘different’ as in how the other man in her life treats her,or ‘different’ in general to past experiences.  For a split second, he considers asking her. But this isn’t the time or place and secretly he prides himself on keeping his jealousy to himself.  He has to make himself look good and doesn’t want to tip his hand, and show her how damn envious he really is.  “I like hearing that Thalia… I hope you don’t mind, but I have other plans for us tonight and I’d like-”

“No dessert?  Chris, you can’t take a fat girl to a fancy restaurant like this and not have dessert,” she laughs, tugging on his arm playfully.

“You’re not fat, dammit, and I know you’re saying that now as a joke, but I really wish you wouldn’t.”  His hand brushes against her thigh under the table and he feels her tremble as her breath catches and he moves closer to her.  Sweeping her hair over her shoulder, his fingers drag gently through her long tresses and her tongue flicks out to lick her lips in desire. “I like when you tremble at my touch, Niña.  It shows me you’re mine and you want me.  Every man in this room has their eyes on you; they want you.”  Leaning in the smell of sweet orchids on her skin fills his nose and heightens his senses.  “They are jealous of me and envision things we might do, and wish it was them.  And the women are envious of your beautiful hair and glowing skin.  You look positively radiant tonight darling.  Red is definitely your color.”

Tears rim her eyes and she blinks them away.  “I’m beautiful to you, Chris.  Thank you, but not everyone else sees me that way.”

He wonders again about her other companion and slowly pushes his chair back, signaling to the waiter.  “I’m sure someone does,” his tone hardens for a moment.  To the waiter, he simply hands over his credit card and asks for the rest of their meal to be boxed up.  Another server arrives to carry things away.  “I have a special treat planned for later, Niña.  You’ll get more than one type of sweet treat later, I promise.”

Giggling she shakes her head and pushes her chair back.  Chris rises as she does and she excuses herself to the ladies room.  Eyeing her as she saunters away, he worships the sway of her hips, the form fitting dress showing off every curve.

#

Driving back into town, holding hands tightly in her lap, she watches the city pass through the window.  Taking his eyes from the road, he views her strong profile and his heart flips.  Turning to him, she winks at catching his gaze.  “Where are we?  I don’t recognize this part of town.”

“I wanted to be away from campus; found a duplex housing unit that had a playground for Avery.”

“Oh,” she whispers quietly.  “So we’re going back to your house?”

Sensing her hesitancy, he provides an out.  “We don’t have to; we can go back to your place… Or we can get a hotel?”

“No. No hotels.”  She fidgets in her seat, looking out the window as she gathers her thoughts.  In her quiet husky tone she admits, “It just feels really… intimate.  That’s your home, with your daughter.  Are you sure?”

Raising their hands to his lips, he turns the car down the dark road and gently kisses the back of her hand.  Sighing happily, he tells her.  “I appreciate your concern, Thalia, but I‘m a grown man.  I wouldn’t bring you here if I didn’t want you to be a part of my life, whatever part of it you want.  Avery’s not here, of course, and to be honest, I haven’t decided yet about you two meeting.  She’d love you, and no one can help but fall in love with her. It’s just-”

“If she’s half as amazing as her dad, I’m sure I would adore her.  Babe, you don’t have to explain it to me.” Her eyes glisten in the dark.  “Kid of divorce.  I get it.  It takes a special person to take on additional baggage.  Some days I feel like just a kid myself…” Her voice changes.  “And no child should be subjected to growing attached to new people who appear in their lives just as suddenly as they leave.  You’ll know when and if it’s right for us to meet…”

In the driveway, he places the car in park.  “Thalia Bareo, I don’t think there’s anything you can’t handle.  You’re so giving and flexible, and you-”

Her giggles stop him and he starts laughing too.  “And you have a very filthy mind, and I adore that.”

Reaching over to her in the dark he wraps his fingers in her thick mass of curls and she doesn’t even wait for him to pull her close.  Their lips collide in the middle, meeting over the damn center console.  Her hands grip his tie and yanks him to her as their mouths open and their tongues caress against one another and she releases a lusty sigh. “Been waiting on you all night to do that; took you long enough,” she teases.

His hands reach into her warm winter coat and he pulls away at the top of her dress, groping at her full breast under the satin and lace.  Loudly she moans against his mouth and his cock stirs.  God, he wants her.  He wastes no time and pushes her back, leaning over the center divide between them to rest against her as he kneads at the tender flesh peeking out of her bra.  Shoving the fabric aside he exposes one of her dark nipples to the cold air and pinches it between his fingers. Greedy, his kisses grow with intensity as he alternates between kissing her deeply and nipping at her swollen lips.  While their mouths reacquaint with one another, Thalia loosens his tie and makes haste with the buttons on his crisp white dress shirt.

Cold from the winter air her hands dart across his skin in feather light touches, running her fingertips through the soft scattering of hair on his chest.  Sliding his mouth down over her jawline, he licks a stripe of wet along her exposed graceful neck before nibbling back up to her ear.  She tilts her head back against the cold glass window and she finds her words again.  “We’re not fourteen and you’re gonna hurt yourself there, big boy,” she teases as her hands slide down to rest on his waist, his hard cock pressing into her belly.  “And it’s cold as hell out here. I’m assuming your bed is warmer?”

Climbing off her, he collapses into his seat.  “I knew I should have asked for the mini-van in the divorce,” he chuckles, squeezing her fingertips.

She simply rolls her eyes.  “I’m a lady, kind sir.  I don’t shag in a vehicle,” she teases with the mocked air of royalty.

“Fine, Princess.  Stay seated, let me help you.  The driveway is slick.”  Looking over to her beautifully aroused body he reaches across and pulls her dress back in place over her exposed breasts.  “Wrap back up.  It’s cold, and I don’t want you getting sick.”

Getting out of the car and watching for ice himself, he mumbles aloud.  “‘I don’t want you getting sick.’  Hell, I’m not her father. That’s just weird, Chris, get it together.”

A sound makes him look at her through the front window and he sees her hiding behind her hand, her eyes wide.  He raises his arms to shrug a silent question and slips on the ice, catching himself on the grill of the car.  “Fuck,” he mutters. “Good going. Throw out your back like on old man before you can even get her in bed, Jesus fuckin’-”

Reaching for her door handle, he laughs when he opens it and she has a small pair of flats sitting in her lap.  “Is that why your purse is so big? You had shoes in there?  Or is it like a closet door to Narnia,” he teases.

Spinning around on her ample bottom, her skirt hikes up, exposing her bare thigh as she swings her feet out to the ground.   His eyes follow along the long stretch of her leg as she quickly removes her heels and replaces them with the flats.  “A Narnia reference, really? I would have gone with Hermione’s handbag myself.”

“Who?” he laughs but loses his attention when she runs her hand down her leg to put on the other slipper.  Damn.  The image of her hands caressing over her dark skin makes him hard.  He’s been holding his thoughts in all evening and now he can allow them to run free. A release of sorts…

“The heels go back on later,” he says gruffly, thankful for the long winter wool coat hiding his growing bulge. “Were you laughing at me?”

Nodding her head vigorously her curls shake rapidly.  “I was! I could hear you talking to yourself, you fool.” She blushes and her smile grins from ear to ear. “Its sweet you worry about me but please, dear God, don’t throw out your back,” she giggles again, hiding behind her hand.

Blushing, he whispers, “Damn. You weren’t supposed to hear all that.”

He holds his arm out to her and she rises carefully, making sure the surface isn’t slick.  Out of the car, he kisses her again, inhaling her warm breath and then blowing it back out to see the bubble of condensation released into the winter night air.  Reaching for the left overs in the back seat, he then holds his arm to her, crooked at the elbow for her to link hers in his.  “If we fall, I’m grabbing for the steaks and you have to fend for yourself,” she tells him and they both nearly fall on the patch of ice when they throw their heads back in laughter.

Walking up the front sidewalk, he’s focused on their steps, so they don’t get hurt. She makes him feel young and vibrant, and he almost wishes they were dressed better for an impromptu snowball fight.  The idea makes him smile, picturing the two of them rolling around in the snow, trying to shove it down each other’s shirts and going inside later for a hot shower to warm up and-

“What the hell!”   He’s startled by the cold against his cheek and neck.

“You squeal like a girl!”  Laughing, she drops his arm and moves quickly ahead, more snow from the bushes in her gloved  hands.  “Chicago, babe.  I know how to pack a snowball.”  She throws it and hits him squarely in the chest.

“Fuck!” He shouts stalking towards her as she grabs the porch rail and moves away from him. “Tomorrow. Tomorrow we will dress for a proper fight, and I will show you how a Boston boy makes snowballs.”

“Boston boys are all talk,” she taunts him brushing the snow from his coat while he unlocks the front door.

Her playful smile tugs at his heart but he doesn’t want to let his guard down now.

The door unlocked, he quickly snakes his free hand around her waist, pulling her close.  “Lucky for you we’re all action too,” he says, kicking the door open and walking her backwards over the threshold.  Closing it against the cold air, he tosses the bag of food on the floor and spins her, pinning her back against the wooden door.

“Oh, really? Next thing you know, you’ll be trying to tell me Fenway’s better than Wrigley,” she taunts, her breathing already labored as he pulls at the buttons on her coat and rocks his body against hers, his mouth devouring her neck.

He bites roughly and she sucks in the air deeply, but no sound is released. Her head falls to the side, silent approval of his force and he bites again, his hands finally inside her coat.  He growls against her skin, “I’m going to forget you said that.  I’m going to make you forget everything tonight. You’re mine tonight, Thalia, do you understand me?”

“All yours, babe.” The smile is evident in her voice.

His lips continue to lick and suck her neck, but he doesn’t leave any marks.  Not yet.  His hands rub firmly over the front of her body and he grabs the lapels of her coat, pulling her close and away from the door.  Quickly he yanks it off of her and then removes his as her hands grasp at his tie- the tie she gave him, and tugs at the other buttons on his shirt. Pulling harder than intended, she gasps when one little disk flies off and her mouth forms a perfectly round “oh.”

“Oh, baby, that’s so beautiful when your mouth does that.” He runs his fingertip across her glossed lips as she pushes his shirt back over his shoulders, and down his arms.  Her tongue teases the rough pad of skin and he dips his finger inside her mouth.  Her eyes instantaneously darken and the heated sound she makes is very primal, hitting Chris in his gut.  Her lips wrap around his finger and her tongue strokes the length.  One hand still claws at his bicep, but the other takes hold of his hand at her mouth.  Gripping his wrist tightly, she slides his hand in and out, a promise of what’s to happen.

Chris can’t take it.  His voice is dark and deep.  “Fuuuck… On your knees.  Do it again.”

Stepping back slightly, he makes room for her, staring in disbelief as she tugs free the ties from her dress and it falls open to reveal a cream colored satin lingerie set with black lace.  The outline of her new tattoo peeks above the lace and he can’t wait to feast his eyes and lips upon the ink stain on her skin.  She shimmies out of the covering and drops to her knees, grabbing for his belt buckle and pulling on it roughly.  “Beautiful, Thalia. Fucking beautiful,” he sighs as her manicured nails tease at his bulge hidden in his dress slacks.

His head drops forward to watch her as she tugs free the belt from his waist.  He shrugs the shirt from his shoulders, pulling it loose from the waist of his pants.  When she she tilts her head  back and their eyes connect he is lost in their chocolate depths.  Dark and husky she asks, “Can I touch you?”

Asking permission.  Fuck, that’s so hot.  He simply grunts in response, at a loss for words.

Slowly her hand slides the zipper down, feathering her fingers along the exposed fabric of his boxer briefs.  Uncontrollably he jumps at the attention and his cock throbs for more of her touch.  He just wants to tell her to hurry up, but she deserves the right to some control as well.  She’s so damn good at it.  His precome seeps through the elastic waistband as her hand reaches in his pants and cups under his balls,the fabric rough against his tight skin. Lifting up from her knees, she brings her mouth to his covered cock and blows warmly across him.

Weakened by the open mouthed kisses she places on the cotton fabric, he clutches his hands at his side, bracing himself not to rush her.  Her breath hot, her nose brushes from his base to the tip.  Tucking her fingers in the waist of his pants, she pulls both garments down tugging over the curve of his toned ass.  As he pops free his hard shaft springs into her face and she instantly takes it into her mouth, pushing his pants down his long legs.  Her lips tease just his head and he falls forward reaching out to the closed door to catch himself. Tantalizingly her tongue swirls around the swollen tip as she taps his leg to step out of the clothing.  Caressing her hands up the backs of his legs she squeezes and pulls his ass cheeks and his heightened breaths fill the air.  “So fucking good, Niña.”

She begins to take skillful measures with her tongue and teeth, skimming over his veiny ridges as she sucks him into her mouth.  His free hand grasps her hair and pulls it tight and she stops, understanding the unspoken command.  Stretched, her mouth still holds him.  The longer he makes her wait he can feel her salivating, her mouth literally watering for him.

“Do you want it?” he asks gruffly, tugging her hair.

Her teeth clamp on him, but not too rough and her muffled sound is affirmative.  Releasing her pressure, he wraps her hair tighter around his hand and grasps the back of her head, holding her still as he begins to face fuck her, reaching the back of her throat and she takes every inch.  Her eyes watering, he slows as her hands slide around the front of his thighs and her thumbs push against his taint. His moans fill the air and his sac tightens.  The caresses of her hands and mouth are just perfect and he’d love nothing more than to shoot his load into her mouth.  Loosening the grip on the back of her head, her hands continue kneading him and slip around to gently hold his balls, rolling them between her fingers. The other hand grasps his shaft, adding a sinful stroking motion to coincide with the sliding of her hot pink lips.

The vision below him is heaven and he’s so close to coming.  His hand wraps over the top of hers and he aids with the pulling and tugging, adding extra force.  The feeling wells up from his toes but he holds back, not wanting the sensation to end.  Tilting her head up her eyes are full of lust as he watches her glide across his cock again.

Thalia pulls off with an echoing smack.  Still stroking him, eyes connected with his, her smile grows wide and devilish.  Her hands still and she rises up to a standing position, confined in the space between him and the door.  She wipes the spit from her lips and flicks her tongue out quickly.

Chris can’t believe it.  She’s carried him to the brink and stopped…  He chuckles and bites his lip, continuing to pump on his own.  Thalia leans her ass against the door, reaching through the pile of clothes for her discarded heels.  She lifts one leg and slides a shoe on as he had requested, then repeats the same with the other, running her hands up her curvy legs, stopping at the top of her thick thighs to adjust her panties.

“I’d stop that if I were you.  I didn’t say you could come yet,” she declares as she walks out from under his arm, the confident clicking of her shoes against the hardwood floors.  His silk tie is in her hand and trailing the floor behind her.  “You promised dessert.  Where’s the kitchen?”

Pure evil.  Pure sass. Pure Thalia.

Click here to read Chapter 28 Just Desserts

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