By avenger-nerd-mom & devikafernando
AU Fan Fiction
In the sequel to Educating Thalia, the lovely Thalia Bareo is trying to grow up, making her own way in the world after losing both men she loved, Professors Chris Evans and Tom Hiddleston. The sassy full-figured Puerto Rican girl from Chicago holds down a job as she tries to deal with the real world. She continues her studies and freelances as a consultant for museums around the world. Being Thalia updates are posted on Wednesdays and Sundays.
Warning: As a whole, this work contains adult content. If you proceed you have agreed that you are willing to see such content. Each chapter will not be coded with individual warnings. The overall story contains no hidden triggers.
If you are new to the series and characters, click here to the beginning of Educating Thalia.
If you are looking for other stories in the sequel, click here for the beginning of Being Thalia
Summary: As her first semester of teaching comes to a close, Thalia finds some quiet and relaxation.
Word Count 1361
“Since I have to go to the airport too, why don’t I just drive you?” Professor Chris Hemsworth yells down the hallway.
Dumping the popcorn in the red bowl, she sprinkles it liberally with salt, pretending not to hear him. Rides to the airport indicate something more. And she doesn’t want that. Not yet. She patters down the hallway in the fuzzy Christmas socks he gave her, careful not to slip on the polished hardwood floors. The colored lights on the tree casts prisms around the room, reflecting against the bay window. She throws the DVD box in his lap and plops down on the couch next to him, settling the popcorn bowl on her lap.
He groans, though the light plastic couldn’t have hurt. “I asked if you wanted to a ride to the airport?”
Fiddling with the remote, she lifts her head to share a smile with him. “That’s a nice idea, but my flight leaves hours before yours.” She drops her head, looking over the buttons for the one she needs to start the DVD. “And I’ve already arranged a ride with a few students who will be on my flight.”
He lifts his eyebrow, apparently not buying her story, but he doesn’t say anything. The surround sound fills the room, growing louder as if testing the speakers, and the home screen lights up the TV.
“Point Break?” he chuckles, reaching into the bowl, his fingertips brushing against hers.
“Sure. Why not, you’re always bragging about surfing at Byron Bay. Thought this would make you feel at home,” she laughs, reaching forward for the box of Milk Duds.
Propping his feet up on the ottoman, Chris jokes,“If we’re gonna watch Swayze, what about Dirty Dancing, Ghost, or hell even, Road House?”
He wiggles on the couch. “I can move my hips. I’m a very good dancer.” He stretches his arm over the back of the couch, twirling his fingers in her curly hair. “Maybe we could go dancing sometime?”
“We’ll see,” she says, relaxing into his touch, practically purring as he plays with her hair. “That feels good,” she exhales quietly. “Do that some more.”
“¿Más?” he drawls. “¿Te gusta? That’s it. That’s all I know. Cerveza.”
Laughing so much, she practically snorts. “Time for Rosetta Stone, dude.” They settle in to watch the movie, making jokes about the president masks and talking about how they’d spend stolen money.
Sitting side by side on the couch, someone always has an arm squished in the middle. Relaxing against the cushion, she sighs and rests her hand gently on his thick thigh, not knowing where else to put it, after losing circulation from sitting on her hand. Shit, what a thigh! She bites back the groan lodged at the back of her throat, and tries to focus on the pretty men on the screen in front of her. It doesn’t help. Jesus, she needs to get laid.
Obviously not interested in the movie, Chris does everything he can to distract her. As the action on the screen unfolds, his grasp on her neck becomes tighter as he massages the stressed tissues. “So tense, Thalia. Don’t you ever relax?” She rolls her head to the right, laying it against his muscular forearm, elongating her neck as he continues kneading her soft skin. “Orchids. How do you always smell of orchids?” He whispers, his warm breath blowing across the top of her head.
His accent lulls her into a calming state. “You’re gonna put me to sleep if you keep that up.” The popcorn bowl slides off her lap, falling sideways onto the couch. “You know I’ve been working overtime on prepping for the Spring semester, and the display layout for that museum opening in Atlanta.”
Chris twists on the couch, reaching across her for the popcorn bowl. In his grasp, he lifts it up and places it on the table behind the couch. His hand slides back down over her shoulder, toying with a dark, curly tendril caught in the crook of her arm, pulling it free. “You work too hard, worry too much.”
She sighs, her breasts lifting in her fitted V-neck sweater. His eyes focus on the rise and fall of her chest. “Hey, blondie, my eyes are up here,” she chuckles, grabbing his hand and holding it in above her shoulder.
His blue eyes lift and lock on hers and for a moment she gets lost in them. They are a different blue staring back at her, clear like the ocean. She wonders if they ever turn gray and stormy, or sometimes even a shade of green. She sucks in a deep breath and their bodies become completely still. The air fills with tension and electricity between them crackles over the sounds from the old movie. She’s been so careful until now, guarding her heart and protecting herself. Everything about Hemsworth, she could never think of him as Chris, for obvious reasons, everything was always comfortable and natural. Their relationship was tentative, teasing about who would bring the morning coffee, since they both arrive at the same time each day, him walking her to the car in the evenings, or their occasional dinner date. But it had always been friendly, a mutual attraction they both had unknowingly agreed to leave untouched.
Until his lips land on hers. Her hands push against his chest and she’s caught by surprise. He starts to pull away, to give her time to react, but she squeezes his thigh, signaling for him to continue.
“Are you sure?” he whispers in tight breaths.
“Mmhm,” she hums, lifting her other hand free to slide up his back, to caress the expanse and tightness of his form under his snug t-shirt.
His lips return to hers with more force, pushing her over on the couch and half sliding her underneath him while their lips and legs tangle together. One of his hands is on her right hip, moving from her ass to her lower thigh, squeezing her firmly through the rough denim, holding her close and keeping her from falling over the edge of the couch cushion. It’s barely wide enough for him, let alone her too. His other hand is next to her head, preventing him from putting all of his weight against her.
Both arms now free, she grapples to gain purchase on the hem of his shirt. Thalia wants to feel his tanned, warm skin under her fingers. The dark haired beauty almost giggles at the idea, unable to remember the last time she was with a man that wasn’t so fair he’d burn within minutes of being in the sun. Almost like dating someone frozen in ice, or a vampire… Shaking the thought away, she continues to pull at his shirt. She quickly yanks it over his head, surprised to find more tats on his arms and ribcage.
He grinds down against her, a sizeable weight pushing against her covered mound. “Slow down, darl, we’ve got all night.”
Thalia shifts the leg he’s holding up, wrapping it over his torso, making him moan when she digs her heel in his back just a little harder, adjusting their angle, pulling him closer to her. There’s a frenzy of movement on the soft leather couch, as the two rut against one another. His mouth is at her neck, then burrowing between her rounded globes, pushing out from the top of her bright pink sweater.
It’s fast and breathless, kissing him, touching him. Her hands trace the sinewy lines of muscles covering his back and shoulders, gripping him tight and using her feet to push him against her. It’s been so long, she wonders if she could come from just a heavy make out session on his couch. So damn long…
They’re both breathing heavy, a slight sweat along her hairline causing her hair to curl and frizz. The sweater is too confining, and the little kitten licks he gives along the lace trim of her bra are driving her crazy.
She pushes against him, gasping for air. “How ‘bout you show me the rest of the house, starting with the bedroom?”
Click to Chapter 4, Strong Shoulders
Copyright © 2019 avenger-nerd-mom and devikafernando. All rights reserved. Intellectual property of avenger-nerd-mom