Facing Demons

ch 16 Facing Demons Feb 24 2019

Being Thalia

Chapter 16

By avenger-nerd-mom & devikafernando

AU Fan Fiction

In the sequel to Educating Thalia, the lovely Thalia Bareo is growing 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 in Madrid 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

Word Count: 2496

Summary: An old friend appears on Thalia’s doorstep bearing news.

Previous Chapter, Reaching Out

September 2021

The afternoon sun feels like summer. The museum will be closing soon, but Thalia’s shift actually ended hours ago. She rests on the marbled steps at the main entrance, reading the book her therapist suggested shortly after her sessions started over a month ago. She looks up when Antonio sits down beside her. “¿Qué estás leyendo?” He asks.

She shows him the cover of the book, knowing his reading of the English language isn’t that great. He simply nods like he understands. “Looks interesting.” He rests his elbows back on the stair behind him and stretches out his long legs. He doesn’t say anything else, so she goes back to her reading, making notes in the margins. She’d almost forgotten he was there when he asks again a few minutes later, “Thalia? Can we go out again? I feel like I didn’t make a very good impression… I mean,” his foot wiggles nervously as he talks, belying his confidence. “It’s not like it’s affected our working together, but really, I’d just like to know you better.”

Thalia closes her book, resting it on her lap and leaning forward on her elbows. She rests her chin in her hands and turns her face to look at him. “Antonio, honestly, it was nothing you did.” She releases one of her hands and runs it over her eyebrow. “It’s so cliche, but it’s me. I woke up in a man’s place, with his dog, surrounded by domestic things, and I just… I can’t. No puedo… I can’t go down that path again.”

He reaches over and runs his hand over her thigh and she pulls away. “Don’t. Please don’t touch me like that. Don’t touch me without my… my consent.” She sucks in her breath and tries to soften her voice. “I had a… thing happen years ago, and I don’t like to be touched.”

Mi dama, I had no idea, I meant nothing by it,” he begins.

“I know, I know you didn’t, but I don’t respond well to touches. Unless you want your glasses broken,” she scrunches up her nose, “I suggest you don’t do that unless I say it’s okay.”

He nods. “I understand, Thalia.” His English is broken and his accent truly is foreign to her. The language of Spain sounds different than the lilt of Puerto Rican Spanish. Most of their conversations are in their native language for work, but speaking in English allows her the upper hand now. “I was just suggesting… Well, what I’m trying to say is, I’m not looking for a relationship… But you were fun. I liked having you in my bed, under me, riding me, and I’d like that again.”

She slowly breathes out. “No Antonio. I don’t think I’m your dama. That’s not for me.” She stands up, smoothing out her skirt. Bending to reach her bag, she can feel his eyes peeping down her top, and a chill washes over her.

“I won’t force myself on you, Thalia, but I’d really like to take you to dinner, to take you home with me.”

“Listen, arsehole, I believe I already heard her say ‘no’ once. How many more times does she need to say it?”

Thalia fists her hand at her side, spinning quickly to see Tom standing a few steps away, holding a bouquet of pale pink and white flowers.

“Oleanders,” she whispers, tears springing to her eyes, clouding her vision.

Tom steps forward, ignoring the man still sitting at her feet. “You once told me it was grossly improper to not bring flowers for a date, that a proper British gentleman would know that…”

She chokes on her words, barely able to swallow. Her sound is little more than a whisper.  “And you told me oleander flowers were a symbol of seduction and attraction. And for leaving the past behind you, and enjoying what’s in front of you…”

“I’m in front of you now,” Tom says quietly. “I’m here.”

Antonio stands up and wipes his hands on his pants. He huffs, “Well, I can’t compete with that level of courtship, so I’m just gonna leave.”

“Good idea,” Tom curtly replies as the other man walks away.

Thalia is frozen on the spot. She can’t breathe, can’t think. She feels like she’s going to pass out.

“Thalia?”

“Tom, what are you doing here?” She whispers. “You’re getting married in two weeks.”

Tom’s face pales and he nervously sticks his tongue out, licking his lip. “No. No, I’m not. I don’t know if I’m a coward, or the bravest man in the world. But I broke it off. I could never marry anyone else, never truly love anyone else. Thalia. It’s always been you; you have always been mine. My Warrior Princess…”

“Fuck you,” she chuckles as tears fall from her eyes. She pushes past him, moving down the steps.  She hears him call her name, but she doesn’t even look back as she dashes around the corner.

***

Hours later, when there’s a knock on her door, she’s ready. Any space that can be seen from the front door is tidy, and the dishes have been washed, dried and put away. Facing demons can be a great motivator for housework. Changed from her work clothes, she feels more comfortable in an old blouse and jeans. Walking to the door, she nervously fluffs her hair, arranging it over her shoulder. She slides the chain across and opens the door.

“Not even going to ask who it was first?” He smiles.

Tom, of course.

“I knew you’d already tracked me down. Finding me at work was just a formality, so you could sweep in with a grand gesture.” Her voice is hard and cold, desperately trying to cover her nerves.
Forlornly, he looks down to the wilted flowers in his hands. “Grand gesture, eh?”

“You were always good at those, and bold announcements. Still are, I see,” she mocks, referring to the news of his broken engagement. She holds out her hand for the withered bouquet. “You plan to hold those all night?”

He bows his head sheepishly and hands them to her. She drops them carelessly onto a side table by the door. Reaching for her wallet, she steps forward and he steps back, confused. “What are you doing?” he asks.

“You can’t come in here. It’s my safe haven.” She sighs. “I battle enough memories in there. I don’t need to actually have you in the flesh, in my apartment.”

At the word ‘flesh,’ his eyes darken, and he struggles to hold back a smile. She bites her tongue, not willing to give in, to acknowledge she saw it. “I haven’t eaten. You can take me for tapas.”

Her heels click across the pavement stones as he follows her down the covered walkway, back onto the busy sidewalk. The city is alive at night, people everywhere, rushing for nightly errands, meeting with friends, and vying for tables at crowded restaurants. She’s aware he keeps a few steps behind her. She tamps down the desire to add a little extra wiggle to her hips as she walks, not wanting to encourage him in any way. Reaching her destination, she pulls the door open and is met with a cool rush of air. The shop clerk greets her with a kiss on the cheek. “Buenas noches, Thalia, bienvenidos.” Thalia nods and returns the kiss to the young woman’s cheek. “¿Quién es el hombre guapo y enfadado?”

Thalia rolls her eyes. “Lucía,” pronouncing her name with a muted ‘th’ sound in place of the ‘c,’ “That’s Tom, and he speaks Spanish.”

“Oh,” Lucia blushes, then stammers in broken English, “Let me find you a quiet table in the back.”

Thalia nods, ignoring the man behind her. She can feel his anger rising. “No, center of the floor, lots of noise is fine. This is not a date,” she says loudly for the benefit of the seething man.

Lucía’s blush deepens. Picking up two menus, she leads them to a small table, off to the side of the room, near a bank of windows looking out to the busy street. She whispers, “Don’t kick him out of bed before you even get him there, mujer!”

Thalia hisses, “That’s exactly where I don’t want him!” She sits down quickly, so Tom doesn’t have time to properly seat her. He scowls as he sits down. “Tell Pablo I’m ready to order as soon as-”

“Lucía,” Tom interjects, tenderly placing his hand on the woman’s arm. He repeats the proper pronunciation of the girl’s name, following Castilian Spanish, and changes the sound of the letter ‘C’ in her name. “Lo siento que mi amiga está grosera…” He glares at Thalia. “Quiero ver la carta de vinos, y traenos un plato de los aperitivos mejores que la restaurante tiene. Por favor.”

Lucía looks to Thalia, worried, but Thalia waves her away. “You can’t just come here, show up at my house, think everything will be better and then boss my friends around. It doesn’t work that way, Tom.”

“Boss her around? I was being polite. You’re the one acting like a shrew, with a chip on your shoulder. She’s a lovely girl.” Tom watches as the young girl relays his order to a server. “She’s just doing her job, and you’re acting like a spoiled child because you’re mad at me. No sense to be rude.”

Thalia narrows her eyes. “Don’t call me a ‘spoiled child.’”

“Why not? You always want your way.” She can see Tom is holding back laughter.

“Me?” Her voice raises and her cheeks glow with a fiery anger. “That’s bullshit, and you know it. You never even talked to me, gave me time to explain myself. You got pissed when I wasn’t always at your beck and call, wouldn’t play the role as your submissive servant, you son of a bitch.”

The waiter clears his throat, handing Thalia a drink. “Your usual, and for you, señor, the wine list.” He sets a loaded plate of tasty treats on the table. He nods to the item on the menu Tom points to, but looking to Thalia, he inquires, “Is everything ok? Will that be all?”

She smiles to him, wondering exactly what he overheard. “Thank you, Pablo. That should be it.”

Thalia jerks her leg out from under the table. “Keep your damn long legs to yourself. There’s enough space here so you don’t have to be touching me.”

Her nerves are alive, frazzled, messages jumping from synapse to synapse, but she’ll be damned if she’ll give him cause to make a move on her. Just because she’s dreamt about him for weeks now doesn’t mean it’s a possible reality. She tucks her feet up under her chair, keeping a safe distance.

Tom grins, popping an olive from the tray into his mouth. He licks his thumb and cocks his eyebrow. “I get under your skin… After all this time, and you still don’t know how to control it, darling, do you?” He runs his hand down his chest before reaching for the napkin on the table and lazily draping it across his lap. When she doesn’t reply to his rhetorical question, he leans forward, eyeing the plate of food. “It all looks so delicious. So mi madreleña, tell me what this is?” He points to the oddly cut potatoes on the dish.

Thalia defeatedly sighs. She’s reminded of Tom’s holiday trip to Chicago years ago when she educated him on delicacies the locals enjoyed. They always found a way to bond over food. Maybe dragging him to a restaurant wasn’t the best idea, but she’d been so hungry, she couldn’t think of a better plan. “Those are patatas bravas, they’re kind of like hash-brown potatoes, I guess? And there are two dipping sauces, this tomato-based one” she points, “and this aioli, which is mayonnaise seasoned with garlic. I’d basically equivocate aioli in Spain to the American obsession with Ranch dressing on everything.”

Tom shudders. “Dreadful. Why ruin perfectly good food with Ranch?” he reaches for a potato wedge and dips it in the sauce. He slowly chews, a smile breaking across his face. He points to her, wanting her to eat. She puts a few on her plate and spoons out some of the aioli for herself. “Wonderful! What else?”

She points to a pile of fried pillows. “These are croquetas, and have beef, fish, or fried vegetables inside. I eat here a lot, so they’re probably mostly beef if Pablo was thinking when he placed the actual order. Those are the ones I like best.”

Tom takes a bite. “Fish? Cod, maybe?” She nods. Looking around the restaurant, he watches the locals, mostly business men and women, who’ve stopped to get a bite to eat before moving on for the evening. “Nice little place, close to your home; I can see why you like it.” He smiles at Lucía as she walks by, seating a couple at a table nearby.  He notices a treat on other tables, not placed on theirs. “No gazpacho?”

Now it’s her turn to shudder. “Cold tomato soup? No thank you. That’s worse than Ranch on everything.”

Tom continues to eat heartily while Thalia nibbles at her food. “Thalia? You’re not eating? You’re not on a diet or anything, are you?”

She sets her glass on the table, fisting her hand next to the stem of the glass. “Why would you ask that? Do you think I need to diet?”

He quickly swallows the piece of potato he was chewing. “God, no.” His eyes dart up and down,taking in her voluptuous figure, turning dark again. “You still have the most amazing body, the most delicious curves…” He leans forward. “Images of your form haunt my dreams at night, in the best of ways, love.”

She flushes and her freckles show under her warm dark skin. “I’m not your ‘love,’ Tom.”

Tom takes a long sip of his wine, before placing the glass down. “You could be, dear. It’s obvious you have some animosity towards me, probably rightly so. I’ve just shown up on your doorstep, quite literally, and told you I left my fiancée. Let me make that totally clear to you. I realized after seeing you in London, I couldn’t continue without you. I could never love another the way that I love you. As obstinate as you are, and as much as we butt heads, you are the one who makes me whole, who drives me to move forward and better myself. Thalia Bareo, I’ve cleared everything in my life for you.”

“Tom,” she says, mustering as much strength as she can. She pushes back from the table, placing her napkin on her plate as she stands. “I never asked you to do that for me.”

With the strength of an army, she commands her feet to move forward, to carry her home, so she can collapse on her couch in tears.

Click here to read Chapter 17, Girls’ Night

Copyright © 2019 avenger-nerd-mom and devikafernando.  All rights reserved. Intellectual property of avenger-nerd-mom

 

Strong Shoulders

ch 4 strong shoulders jan 13 2019

Strong Shoulders

Chapter 4

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.

**THIS CHAPTER DOES HAVE MENTION OF A SICK PARENT**

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: Thalia returns to Chicago for a quiet holiday with her father and stepmother

Word Count 1263

Previous Chapter, Attraction

December 2018

Thalia had been looking forward to the month long winter holiday with her family in Chicago, but now she wonders if she can ever escape old memories. Walking down the hallway, the place seems smaller, and the peeling wallpaper and chipped trim adds to her dreary mood. Examining the tree, she wryly smiles at the old ornaments, things she’d made in grade school. She briefly wonders what happened to the Nativity she and her mother had painted before her mother walked out. Tapping her finger against the bell from her cousin’s wedding, she sends up happy thoughts for the couple and laughs at an old picture of her and her friend Amy stuffed in among the branches. A silly glass ornament of a hot dog catches her eye, and she wonders how it made it to the tree from the shelf in her room.

Tom. She falters at the thought of him, her heart momentarily stopping.

Tom had bought the ornament as a joke three years before when he had surprised her by turning up in the city. They’d shared such a wonderful time, geeking out over the museums, stuffing themselves with local food. Fucking each other’s brains out in the hotel that night, putting the tie she’d gifted him for Christmas to good use.

Fuck him, she mumbles, staring out the window at the falling snow.

The memories were too much. Stacey found her curled up on the couch in the den. The motherly blonde sat cradling the broken young woman in her arms. “I really fucked up, Stacey. I can’t fix it. I can’t change it, and they’re both gone.”

“Oh, honey,” she says, wiping away her stepdaughter’s tears. She cups her face in her hands and gently kisses her nose. “There are other handsome princes. You’ll love again, in time.”

Thalia sobs harder, her body quaking from a broken heart. This isn’t her first meltdown, but it’s the only time she’s let another soul in on her pain. Except for Jim Beam and Johnnie Walker, no one has seen her this bad, this devastated.

“I don’t want anyone else,” she yelps, choking on her tears. “I met, I met someone… Other than a sexy voice, and being a professor,” she scoffs, “he’s not my type. But I like him. He’s nice, he’s funny. He’s Australian and dammit, his name is Chris!” She hollers through her tears.

“Everything okay up there?” Carlos Bareo calls up the stairs.

“Nooo,” whines Thalia, collapsing again in her mother’s arms.

“Carlos, honey, we’ll be awhile,” Stacey yells back. “Why don’t you just order in some dinner tonight? We’ll be down soon.”

“Oh, God, I don’t want him to see me like this. Not when he warned me-”

“Life’s too short to say ‘I told you so.’ He won’t want you hiding away in here the whole time you’re home. He’s looking forward to the special tour you arranged for the National Museum of Puerto Rican Arts and Culture.” Stacey passes a tissue to Thalia, doing her best to change the subject, while the younger woman noisily blows her nose. “So tell me about this other guy? What’s he like?”

She blows her nose again, wadding up the tissue and dropping it in the trash can next to the couch. She inhales deeply, looking up to the ceiling. “Nothing to tell. I blew it. After a quick and much needed make out session on his couch the other night, when we got to his bedroom, he had the same bedspread Tom and I had in Paris, and my Chris’s book on his nightstand, the one I helped edit.” She chuckles, wiping the end of her dripping nose with another tissue, the tears finally slowing and beading up on her lashes. “I kinda freaked out a little, couldn’t breathe. I mean he’s trying to take my sweater off, and I’ve got a movie montage in my head of that damn bedspread.” She visibly swallows, making a clicking sound in the back of her throat. “We’re really only work friends, it was like the second time I’d hung out at his house. We don’t know each other well enough to read the clues, so I finally had to put the brakes on-”

“Oh, honey, that’s really-”

She hiccups and giggles. “Awful, I know, right? I just told him, well, I was tracing his abs, so it took a moment to sink in, but I couldn’t stop staring at him. I swear, Stacey, it was like a twelve pack, I’ve never seen anything like it before.” She sighs deeply. “Probably never will again,” she says wistfully, “I’m gonna be a nun. Anyway, I asked if he remembered me saying I’d recently ended a relationship, and I told him the bedspread was the same, and I couldn’t handle it.”

Stacey hides her smile behind her hand. “Then what happened, honey?”

Thalia snorts. “Guys like him don’t exist in real life. He took me back downstairs to the kitchen, and we devoured a roll of cookie dough, instead of each other. He told me about his ex, and how he ended up in the States. At some point, I think I went into a sugar coma, because I woke up on his couch yesterday morning while he was making a mad dash to gather things up to pack to go back home for the term break.” She smiles weakly. “I made him breakfast and helped him with a few things before I left to get home and finish packing my own bags.”

Stacey’s jaw drops. “So he was totally okay with it, not having sex, and just being a good guy? A real friend?”

Thalia lifts her eyebrows. “I know, crazy right?”

“A Christmas miracle,” Stacey laughs.

A quiet night in with her parents was just what she needed to help escape from memories, but then real life caught up fast. Her father was in ailing health, and they spent long hours together during her break. His repeated refrain was the old adage, ‘If you love something, let it go. If it was meant to be, it will come back.’

She never knew if he was talking about her love life, and if so, which man was he referring to, or if he was rambling about his happiness she had returned home after so long an absence.

Thalia never got a chance to ask her father about it. He died shortly after she returned to the school for the winter term.

While she was gone for his funeral, her small apartment complex was destroyed by a fire.

Once again a nomad, the young woman had shown up at Professor Chris Evans’ door with just her suitcase from her trip and really no place to go. He accepted her with open arms. Avery was pleased as punch to have her favorite playmate back in the house again. His girlfriend? Not so much…

Shortly after moving in, Thalia heard them in the kitchen late one night.

“How long is she gonna be staying here?”

The sound of a glass beer bottle hitting the table echoed through the downstairs. “Karen, she’ll stay as long as she needs to. She lost everything, what part of that do you not get?” His voice is tired, agitated just below the surface.

“She was your student, and you dated her, and now she’s living in our basement. That’s just fucked up and-”

Putting in her earbuds, she tuned out the rest of the conversation. She jogged down the steps to her room, flopping across the bed. Scrolling through the phone, she continued her search for apartment listings, looking for a new place to live.

Next chapter, Sensitivity Training

Copyright © 2019  avenger-nerd-mom and devikafernando. All rights reserved. Intellectual property of avenger-nerd-mom

Just Desserts

et Ch 28 Just Desserts June 7 2017

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

Step Up

et ch 25 step up may 28 2017

Chapter 25

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: 1847

Warnings:  Language, Adult Situations, angst, drinking, argument, harassment

Summary:  Thalia has a bad day, which prompts Chris into action.

Click here for intro to Educating Thalia

The minute she catches his eye across the smoky bar, he can sense something is wrong.  He nods to a few of the regulars, surprised he’s become a regular there himself.  The game is showing on two of the screens and the place is more packed than usual.  And it’s one of those nights- she’s working and got her book open on the bar top.  He nods to Jim and the older man expresses his displeasure, but turns to get a glass for his favorite Scotch anyway as he pulls himself onto the barstool he’s claimed as his own.  Reaching down the bar, he grabs the bowl of mixed nuts, but she shakes her head no, and hands him a fresh one.  And that’s the only acknowledgement he gets that he’s even in the room.

When the game ends, the place clears out fairly quickly and the quieter sound is almost deafening to him.  “Niña, you doing all right there?” he asks as she passes by with a tray of empty glasses.

She drops it into the clearing bin and he hears one of the glasses shatter.  Jim starts to shout at her, but her look is lethal.  The grown man actually puts his hands up and backs away.  Thalia turns on Chris, hands on her hips.  “No.  I’ve had a shit day.  Maines announced a last minute quiz, and it was shit I haven’t reviewed, thinking I didn’t need it till closer to the end of the semester.  The power steering is acting up in my car again.  The apartment is fuckin’ freezing, and you…” She throws her hands up and mutters in Spanish, walking away from him.  She returns with a bottle of Fireball and pours a shot.  He’s surprised when she downs it herself, slamming in back to the bar.

Eyebrows raised, he knows it’s best in these situations to play dumb and stay calm.  Playing dumb won’t be difficult, because he has no idea why she’s angry.   Nodding gently, he moves the glass between his hands, sliding it across the dark wood.  “What did I do, babe?”

“I’m not your ‘babe’ or your’ sweetie’ or even your Niña.  You haven’t called me in two days, since I last saw you at the club.  I’ve decided I’m tired of this shit.  You can’t just come in here and expect to go home with me.  I’m tired of being your fuck buddy.”

Some of the patrons catch her last phrase and lean in closer.  The look on Jim’s face shows confirmation of what he’d feared all along, and Chris wonders if the burly man would punch him or kick him out.  “Thalia… You’re more than that, we’re more than-”

“No.”  She slams her book shut, pulling off her apron.  “I’m going home alone.”  Removing her coat from the hook, she tells Jim, “Keep him here.”  Looking back at Chris, she finishes, “Being secretive doesn’t have to make me feel like…   like a whore.  If you want this, date me, romance me, treat me the way a man should treat a woman.”  She shrugs her shoulders, “Or I’m done.”

She’s out the door before Chris can even say anything, and Jim has advanced on him, standing behind him to make sure he can’t leave after her.  “You seem like a nice guy.  Don’t do anything stupid,” Jim tells him quietly.  “She’s a good girl, but if you hurt her, you’ll regret it.”

“Fine, I hear ya…  Twenty minutes?  I won’t go to her place, I promise,” Chris claims.

Jim steps aside and Chris sits back down to finish his luke-warm drink.  When the bar gets busy again, Chris sneaks out.  Going to his car, he pulls the box with the bow on it out of the trunk and carries it across the street.  He sees Tina in the window and taps the glass.  Recognizing him, she lets him in and he slowly walks up the stairs with a heavy heart.  Setting the box on her welcome mat, he knocks on the door a few times before walking away.

He would have loved to have seen the expression on her face to find the new electric heater, but today just wasn’t his day.

#

Chris waits quietly around the corner, knowing her routine.  When she walks up to the coffee counter, he slides up behind her, giving his order as well and telling the clerk to put it on his bill.  “Miss Bareo, so glad I ran into you!  I had a few questions about the documents for the performance hall exhibit.”  When the server hands over the coffees, he reaches for them both, handing hers to her kindly, ignoring her shocked expression.  “Can you spare a few moments to sit with me?”

Giving her no choice, he guides her to an empty table in the center of the Commons.  “What the fuck are you doing, Chris?” she hisses nervously, spying around the room.

“I’m talking to the most beautiful, intelligent woman I know.”  He pulls out a stack of documents and lays them out on the table, pretending to pour over them.  “I’m trying to set things straight…  I never meant to make you feel any less than a woman, than someone I care about.  I-”

“We’re not doing this here. Someone could hear you!”  She hides her irritation behind the cardboard coffee cup.

“It’s too noisy.  Can you hear those people right there?” He tilts his head to the closest table.  “Nope.  Me neither.”  He shrugs, continuing.  “I went to see you last night because I knew you were having a hard week.  You’d cancelled work twice and I saw that creep, the frat boy, giving you a hard time in the hall yesterday.  Like always, you handled yourself before I could step in.  You aren’t a dainty flower needing rescuing.  You need someone strong enough to take it when you push back.  I didn’t think you wanted the dating thing, a commitment.  I honestly thought you were too tied to your schoolwork and to the other…”  Pushing his glasses up, he pinches the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes and leaning back momentarily before randomly pointing at something on the papers in front of them.

She looks to his hand, and shakes her head.   Pointing to something else on the documents, her hand brushes against his.  “You’re important too, I just-”

“You just weren’t getting what you needed… I see that now, Thalia.  You’re so fiercely independent and strong and you know exactly what you want and..”

Placing her elbow on the table, she rests her forehead in her palm.  “I’m none of those things.  I’ve just developed a tough skin to protect myself over the years.  You don’t think I know what people say, or think of my weight?  My step-mother always tried to help.  No junk food in the house, exercise classes.  That just made it worse.  She didn’t understand the genetics and I would just eat behind her back.  I’m puertoriquena- I’m supposed to have a fat ass,” she laughs.  “But I am none of those things you say I am.”

“You’re more, Thalia, and I’m crazy about you.  ”

Her eyes pop open wide and she sits stunned almost too afraid to see if anyone around them heard him.

“And I kinda like your ass, it’s perfect,” he winks.  Turning serious, he lowers his voice, “I’m dying to hold your hand in mine as I ask you out on a real date.  We can’t stay in town, but I know a great little place about an hour away.   I wanna pick you up at your door and watch you awkwardly decide what to do with the flowers I bring you, and then help you slide on your coat over a pretty dress that hugs your figure and hold the car door open for you and pretend not to look at your amazing legs while you get in the car. I wanna hold your hand as we drive down the highway, and compare suggestions as we stare over the menu.  I want to-”

Giggling, she covers her mouth, hiding her sweet smile.  “Ok, ok, enough.  I get it.  Shh…” she says, looking around cautiously.  “Save your other plans for later.  Surprise me.  When is this great… event?”  She questions surveying the Commons again.

Chris follows her gaze and sees the frat boy that was behaving so rudely with her yesterday.  He plans to have words with that young man later.  Bringing his mind back to the present as she rises to leave, he suggests quietly, “Tomorrow? A quarter till six?”

Closing her eyes as if she is thinking, she lifts her coffee cup and readjusts her book bag on her shoulder.  “Make it six-thirty and it sounds like a perfect plan, Professor Evans. I have a study group I can’t miss.  Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get to class.”

He nods, a bit dazed she acquiesced so easily and he watches her walk away, seeing the dick head student giving another female a hassle.  Leaving his papers on the table, he walks to the young man who is leaning aggressively over the woman and he grabs his arm.  “You.  This is the second female student I’ve seen you harass in two days.  What’s your name, kid?”

God, he so wanted to call the kid a dick, but his job is already on the line if anyone finds out about his relationship with Thalia.  He motions for a nearby campus security guard to come over, as the girl moves out the way.  The school employee assesses the situation as Chris explains it to him and the student is whisked away for more questions.  Chris sees to it the young woman was not harmed in anyway, and advises her to always remember to be safe on campus, especially at night and not to be out after hours alone.

Back at the table, he gathers up his papers when a brisk movement causes many to fall to the floor.  “So, so sorry,” says the polite but clipped British voice.

Chris sighs as the gentleman bends to retrieve the papers.  “Hey, you.  What do you know about that asshole that’s been harassing Miss Bareo?

Taken aback, Tom falters.  “What?  She’s never said anything to me about that before?  Are you sure?”

Nodding, Chris shoves the papers in his bag.  “I know she works with you a lot and likes you, why I have no fuckin’ clue, but it happened in the hall near your office and I just turned him in for forcefully bothering another young woman.  I thought you might want to be aware if something was going on in your classes. Thalia is such a smart, sensitive woman. She doesn’t deserve crap like that.”

“Thank you, mate.” Tom stretches his hand out and offers him a firm handshake.  “When she comes into work this afternoon, I’ll check with her on that.”

Chris waves him away, distracted by the message on his phone, “What color dress would you like me to wear?”

Click here to read Chapter 26 Yes, Sir

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

Bliss

et ch 21 Bliss

Chapter 21

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: 3178

Warnings:  Language, Adult Situations, fingering, oral sex, fluff

Summary: Chris gets the chance to spend more time with Thalia, discovering he likes more than just her body.

Cover images found on Pinterest

Click here for intro to Educating Thalia

Over the course of the next few cold winter weeks, Chris realizes Thalia adds light to his dark days.   He learns her schedule and finds spots to accidently run into her on campus, the easiest being quick meets in the school Commons.  Professors meet with students there all the time, so none would be the wiser as to their little rendezvous in plain sight.  His knee casually brushing against her leg or her hand bumping his while she reaches for the pepper, a knowing smile shared between them, always with research spread on the table in front of them.

The limited hours she has working with him each week allow him to see how her captivating mind works and he realizes he has a schoolboy crush on her.  He watches her work with such pride and admiration, but at the same time he can’t wait to get her alone and rip her clothes off and let her have her way with him.  Chris likes the ease of the give and take in their experiences together and observes her growing into herself as a sexual being.  He feels fortunate just to be along for the ride.

Most of their dates consist of him meeting her at the bar, some nights coming in to talk with her by chance, not to arise suspicions from Jim, and often going home alone.  He just enjoys the company of having someone near.  He plays pool with the regulars and for pretense of being a single man, on occasion he flirts innocently with other women who come into the bar.  The dirty little hole in the wall establishment doesn’t often bring in the most savory of characters.  Chris loves watching Thalia adapt to this role, affecting a different personality to fit in rather than to use her education to stand above.

It’s amazing how she holds herself so confidently in both worlds. It’s sexy as sin and he wants to see more of it, in both arenas.

He pauses when he hears her enter the room.  Shaking his head he can’t believe he got caught.  Lost in his thoughts, he hadn’t been paying attention to listen for the water to shut off.  He grimaces as he clutches her sweater in his hand.

“Christopher!”  Thalia giggles, her tone playful and boisterous. “Just what the hell are you doing in my closet?  I mean, really, I have handled all your kinks, but really that would be-”  She stops talking when the sweater hits her in the face and she releases a mock squeal of astonishment.

He doesn’t acknowledge her tease, and says the first thing that comes to his mind.  “God, you’re beautiful,” he admires, his voice dropping to a low rumble, the sound vibrating in his chest.

Clad only in a towel from her shower and another wrapped around her head, her skin glows with a sheen of lotions and oils.  The towel tucks between her ample breasts and creates a natural draw for his eyes.  With her hands on her hip, the terry cloth pulls away slightly, exposing thick thighs with just a hint of space between them.  A space where he’d like to be, he thinks as he falls to his knees in front of her, ready to worship at her altar.

“You’re changing the subject,” she hisses as his hands snake up her legs and the top of his buzz cut head follows their path.  Taking a few steps back, she rests on the end of the bed and he crawls to chase after her, taking up the same spot and spreading her for his feast.

He starts slow and methodically licking a stripe down the sides of each puffy pink lip, enjoying the smooth result of her recent afternoon at the spa.  Nipping and flicking his tongue across the flesh, her arousal begins.  His texts to her all evening already have her on “go” and she rubs at the top of his head, small keening sounds encouraging him to delve deeper.  His hands run up her sides, kneading and caressing over her warm and fragrant skin.  He gropes at her abundant tits while his tongue takes its first leisurely swipe between her folds, eliciting a lusty response from deep within.  “I fuckin’ love your sounds, baby girl, don’t hold any back from me tonight.” Sampling her again, his cock rises to the wanton melodies she creates.  His voice drips with his own desire as he shares his secret wish with her. “I wanna hear them echo in my ears tomorrow when we sit and work with the team in my office.”

“Oh, fuck,” she whispers, pulling back on the nape of his neck and leaning to him for a kiss.  Raising up on his knees he meets her and their lips wrap together.  Their needy kisses flow one after another as he flicks his tongue through her mouth sharing her tangy sweet taste. From one welcoming hole to the next, Chris drops back down and continues his task, making quick work of driving her to a frenzy as she grips his shirt tighter and tighter.  “Lay back, Niña, so I can have more of you,” he growls.

He pushes her to the bed and holds her down tightly with one hand while the other begins to slide in and out of her slick.  Teasing and pulling at her clit with his teeth he brings her to new heights, her sounds growing in volume.  Smearing around the wet, he slips over her taint and smiles at her involuntary jump, bringing to mind beautiful images of what he’d like to do to her.  As his fingers work faster, her breath catches and the noises echo in the cold room.

“Look at me,” she commands of him.  Lifting onto her elbows she cries out to him, her voice raspy and thick.  “Fuck me, baby, make me come.”

His vision holds with the depths of her melted chocolate brown eyes, her hair wet and wild tumbling down over her shoulders.  It’s quite possible she’s never looked more beautiful.  His mouth moves over her cunt, sliding his hands out and bringing both down over her thighs, pushing his thumbs over her taint.  His hold on her free, she thrusts up as his whole mouth latches over her sweet hole, delivering the sweetest of French kisses.  Writhing against him, grabbing the sheets, she comes all over his tongue as he laps it up quickly, not wanting to waste a single drop.  Her cries wither to quiet mewls and he pulls back slowly, washing over her with his tongue and cleaning her well.  Sitting back on his heels he watches with satisfaction as her eyes roll back and she collapses to the bed.  “Damn, I love that.”

Her scent fresh on his fingers, he wipes her succulent juice from his scruffy chin and scrambles up beside her on the bed.  She flops her head to the side and beams at him as he teases her with his fingers. “Rather delectable… Would you like to try?”

Nodding imperceptibly her pupils dilate and her breathing halts.  Her pink tongue flicks over her swollen lips,  gifting them with a dewy shine.  His finger tip follows the same motion spreading her come on them to share before kissing her.  Gathering the last from his beard, he touches his finger to her lip anew. Tentatively she tags him with the tip of her tongue and he pulls down at the entrance of her mouth and pushes inside with his finger.  Closing around him, she sucks him clean, humming at the deed with a silent promise for his later.

chris and thalia

#

Falling into their Sunday afternoon routine they take up residency on their respective ends of the couch, Thalia needing space to spread out her books.  Today the task at hand seems to be creating note cards for an upcoming presentation.  Chris absently watches her work as she chews on the tip of her pen and twirls her hair.  Smiling, she looks up and his heart fills with joy.  He winks at her and turns his attention back to his computer, several tabs open on shopping sites, searching for just the right something to showcase her beauty and her luscious figure.  Just the thing to stop him in his tracks when he sees her walking across campus so he can think, “Damn, I know what’s under that.”

With a few clicks, his choices are made, and he realizes it was so worth getting caught coming out of her closet.  He shakes his head at his own joke, but he didn’t want to order something that wouldn’t fit, so he had to do a little spy work.  Chuckling inwardly, he opens a browser for the afternoon football game he wants to watch.  A TV.  A TV might need to be another gift for her little space, but she always seems so offended when he suggests it, he hasn’t stepped over that boundary.

He hates feeling like they’re a couple when they really aren’t.  Are they?  He can’t be seen in public with her, can’t take her to the movies, or hold her hand walking across campus.  But he feels like they’re a couple.  He stays at her place once or twice a week; when she studies in his office, she cuddles under his arm on the couch; she sometimes brings fresh fruit to add to his morning yogurt.  Those are ‘couple things,’ right?  Hell, has dating become so complicated, he’s forgotten how, or has he simply fallen back into the role of “caretaker” as he had before he and his wife drifted apart?

Staring at the screen, the game isn’t going as he hoped and his mind wanders.  Is that all a relationship is?  Finding someone you want to take care of and be with, and if the sex is great, added bonus?  In his failed therapy sessions, he never came to a true answer as to why his wife left him for another man, other than “she’s a bitch.”  It always seemed like he was doing everything right- buying her favorite flowers, doing things to help her out, taking care of Avery when she was working, making sure he kept their sex life active when everything else seemed to pull them in other directions.  He still isn’t sure if he did anything wrong, but it’s-

“Earth to Evans?”  Thalia is snapping her fingers in his face.  “Where’d you go, babe?  I lost ya there…”  She rests her arm on his bicep and administers a gentle squeeze.  “Everything okay?”

Closing the computer, he smiles slowly.  “Yeah, just thinking about stuff I gotta do this week.  Hey, do you wanna get outta here for a bit?  We’ve been cooped up too long, and it’s not terribly cold out today.”

Tossing her curly head, she laughs.  “You didn’t hear a word I said, did you?”  Giggling when he sheepishly hangs his head, she tosses a pillow at him.  “Get off your lazy ass.  We are going out.  My neighbor texted. She still hasn’t made her ‘walk of shame’ and she needs to make sure her dog gets a walk.  We’ve got to go find Dory.”

Chris adds resistance to her pulls as she tries to lift him off the couch and she topples into his lap and he dots her face with a few sweet kisses.  He wants to banish away his sad thoughts.  The expression on her face tells him she understands his actions and she rubs gently over the fuzz on his buzzed head.

“Dory?  Um, Isn’t that a better name for a fish?”  Chris asks, leaning his ass against the door and balancing on one foot as he pulls on his shoes and ties the laces.  She hands him his winter coat from the back of the chair and quickly shrugs into hers before he has a chance to help her.  While she’s distracted, looking for her keys, he tugs the pink tail of her scarf from her pocket and hides it behind his back.

“The dog’s name wasn’t originally Dory.  Chelley and I don’t even remember the his original name…  It was just a really damn stupid dog.”  She chuckles, stuffing her hands in her pockets and only pulling out her gloves.  She spins in circles, looking to see if she dropped it on the floor.  “I know that’s horrible to say, but it’s true.”

She freezes with a cute, frustrated look on her face; true consternation and Chris can’t contain his laughter as he dangles the hand-knit scarf out in front of her.  “Come here,” he says quietly.  He takes her hair and sweeps it back, holding it up and out of the way as he drapes the scarf over her shoulders with his other hand.  Hanging loosely down over her breasts, he runs his hands down over her form, hidden under the downy comfort of the winter wear.  Even so, her eyes still close and her head tilts back as he caresses over her full breasts, reaching for the dangling tassels at the bottom of the scarf and wrapping them loosely around her neck, his fingertips grazing across her exposed skin at her throat.

Lifting her head to him, she sighs.  “Only you could make this hideous get up sensual.  I feel like half my life is cold Northern Winter weather and I look like the Michelin man, all round and puffy.  So I dream about moving south; but then I think, no one wants to see me running around in sundresses all the time to compensate for the heat.”

He follows her into the hallway, listening to her ramble about weather and clothes and really all he hears is her damn sexy raspy voice.  He follows her up the stairs to the neighbor’s apartment and informs her, “Me.  I wanna see that.  You in skimpy sundresses, a beach?  What are we doing for Spring Break?”

Unlocking the door, she stares at him incredulously.  “We??  What do you mean ‘what are we doing?’  Christopher Evans, have you lost your damn mind?”

If it hadn’t been for the scratching on the door, Chris would have shown her exactly how much she makes him lose his mind.  The minute she opens the door, Dory pops out, so excited to see people.  The fluffy mutt jumps up on him, paws on his chest, sniffing and hoping to make friends.  “Dory!  Down.  Bad dog.  We don’t jump on people.”

The dog sits down next to her, reacting to her voice as she holds her hand to him to sniff.  “Wanna go for a walk?  Wanna go to the park?”

The dog dips his head, as if to say yes.  “Get your leash,” she commands and the dog runs back inside stopping at a basket by the TV.  “Good boy,” she pats his head, bending for it and attaching it to the dog’s collar.  Closing the door, she says to Chris.  “Well, I don’t know what you plan to do during the week off, but I’m working, studying, and beginning prep for finals.  And I have hours to complete on campus for work study.  Some of us actually work when we work, ya know.”

Exiting the building, she motions to the left and Chris follows her lead, the pup bounding ahead of them as far as the leash will let him.  She hands over the reigns to Chris while she puts on her gloves and he happily keeps it from her.  “Thalia, I didn’t mean it like that.  I mean… I guess.  Shit.  I wanna make plans with you.  I wanna do things with you and not feel like we just hang out at your place.  Do you get some time off?  We could drive out to the beach one day, or for kicks, you come stay at my house a day or two?  Let me take care of you.”

Thalia stops at the corner, waiting for the light to change.  Watching her, the wind blows her hair around her face and her cheeks blossom in the cold wind. Even when the light indicates they can move forward, she stays frozen in her spot.  Dory lurches forward, unsure why Chris won’t move.

“Did I say something wrong?”  he asks tucking the end of the scarf back inside the loop around her neck.  The dog runs a lap around them and they become tangled in the leash.  Not that he plans on going anywhere till Thalia gives her okay….

Eyes glistening with tears, her hand covers her face.  “Oh, my God.  You are literally the most insane, adorable man I’ve ever met…  You just go through life with no plan other than fun, don’t you?”

Shrugging his shoulders he simply says, “There’s nothing wrong with that; less stress that way.  I can’t be doing it all wrong.  I’m a successful professor, a well known historian and a good dad.  And managed to snag a hot, young co-ed…”

Resting her gloved hand on his chest, she pats him sweetly and rises on her tiptoes to kiss the tip of his nose, then slides down, pushing her body against him and pressing her lips to his.  In the cold, their warm air puffs in a cloud between them as their lips gently dance, kisses growing with intensity.  They only break apart when a passing car honks at them and she bows her head, hiding behind some of her curls.

Taking his hand, she leads him across the street.  “Nothing wrong with it at all.  In fact, that’s probably something you need to teach me- how not to work so hard.”  She sighs.  “So.  Staying at your house a few days, huh?  Can we crank up the heat and pretend it’s a fancy vacation destination and play music full of steel drums?”

“And drinks with coconut rum and little umbrellas in them if that’s what you want. Hell, I’ll even get a sandbox and we can pretend it’s the beach.  Anything that will help you relax and enjoy a vacation for a few days, Niña…”

She opens the gate to the little neighborhood dog park and lets Dory off his leash, laughing when he trots over to ‘check in’ with friends.  Chris and Thalia find an empty bench and snuggle side by side to ward off the cold.  “Chris, that’s still weeks away.  I mean are you sure you wanna-”

His lips crash against hers, effectively shutting her up.  Separating with a tug to her lip between his teeth, he teases, “You talk too much.  You’ve already said your stepmother is coming for Valentine’s Day and you can’t see… anyone.  I want to do something ‘date-like.’ With you.  I don’t care if it’s weeks away.”   He slides his hands between her thighs and rests them there to keep them warm, having forgotten his gloves on the table by the door in her apartment.  “And just think of all the nights in between now and then…”  Nibbling on her ear, he whispers some of those ideas to her while Dory runs around the park.

Click to Chapter 22 Drinking Games 

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

Stay

ET ch 15 Stay april 23, 2017

Educating Thalia

Chapter 15

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: 3884

Warnings:  Language, Adult Situations, fluffy smut, foreplay, nipple play, hand job

Summary:  Sober now, Chris isn’t really sure if accepting Thalia’s kind offer was a good idea.

Click here to the introduction of Educating Thalia

The two talk long past midnight.  The comfort and ease feels like old friends.  They discuss a shared interest in history and he asks her thoughts on some of the books he sees sitting around the room.  Leaning against the arm of the couch he puts his feet up next to her.  If he tipped his foot just so, he could brush against her thigh, but he tries not to invade her space.  Although it was difficult not to want to, with her patting his leg occasionally for emphasis in her storytelling.   He bites back a groan when she rests one leg up on the coffee table in front of them. Her robe falls open, exposing her chunky, delicious looking inner thigh and his eyes dart to the V between her legs, covered by her short plaid bottoms.   Oh, hell.  It’s more than a man can take.  He excuses himself to use the restroom, to get away and try to clear his mind.

No such luck.  The tiny space smells like her, the fresh scent from her shower and her lotions and creams on the ledge above the sink.   Resisting the urge to check in her medicine cabinet, he removes his glasses, laying them on the counter and rubbing his hands over his face.  Chris can’t figure out if she really is just being nice or if like the guy at the bar said, she’s flirting with him and interested.  Washing up, he begins to speak to himself, hidden under the sound of the running water. “What the fuck are ya doin’, man?  She’s a student.”  He sighs and adjusts the fit of his pants thanks to the ebbing hard on building off and on all evening in her presence.  “A hot one.  That invited you to her home.  Jesus fuckin’ Christ, Chris, ya shoulda gone to the crappy coffee place.”

Grabbing his glasses, he returns to the living room, watching from the doorway for a moment as she brushes the tangles out of her hair, rubbing the ends with a towel.  He longs to run his fingers through it…  To grab it in his hand and twist it in his fingers as he… Clearing his throat he stops his thoughts and he returns to his spot on the couch, this time keeping his feet closer to himself.

Instead of returning to their conversation, she barely hides a yawn. “Well Chris,” she says sleepily, rising from her spot, “I wasn’t kidding when I said I had studying to do tomorrow.  I need to get some sleep so I can function.”  Walking behind the couch, she makes the few steps to the kitchen table and sets her empty coffee mug there.  “Sunday’s my only true day off.”

Stopping behind the couch, she rests her hand near his.  Her voice drops, “Let me get you some pillows and blankets and-”

He places his hand on hers and can feel a slight tremble.  His tone matches hers, a shared intimacy of their voices.  “You know I’m not really drunk… Why did you invite me here?”  Chris asks quietly.

She looks down over the back of the couch at him, her lashes long against her cheeks as she blinks.  She licks her lips and he watches her swallow before licking them again quickly.  “I don’t really know.” She chuckles nervously.  “Maybe just to see if you’d say ‘yes,’” Thalia admits, a vulnerability in her eyes.

Tenderly he lets go of her hand and rises from the couch, walking around behind it to stand in front of her.  Her head low, he lifts her chin, holding it with his thumb under her pouty lip,  bringing her eyes up to meet his.  “You didn’t think I’d say ‘yes?’”

“Most guys don’t look at me the way you did in the bar.”  She pulls back from his hold.

He swallows his own thoughts when he sees she needs to be wanted, to be worshipped.  “And how is that?  How did I look at you?”

“Like you didn’t care that I carry some extra weight,” she sighs and sucks in her lip quickly before speaking again.  “Like you… like you wouldn’t mind feeling it on top of you…”

Fuck. Orchids. Wet curly hair.  Pajamas.  A slight blush at her confessing her innermost thought… He’s hard again at just the thought of her and what she’s saying and not saying to him.  Her heart is racing; he can see her blood pumping through the veins in her neck, the robe loosely falling down her shoulder.  Not speaking, he steps to her and grasps the tie on her robe.  Locking his blue eyes on hers, he smiles devilishly and gives it a tug, the robe falling open and revealing her plump frame, still fresh and pink from the hot shower.  He places his hands on her waist and pulls her to him.

Damn, she’s gorgeous.

His eyes fall to her mouth as her lips open in a sweet “oh” of surprise at his manhandling.  He lowers his head, whispering across her skin, “Do you want me to look at you that way again?”  Chris gently places a kiss on her collarbone, nudging the lace trim strap of her tank top with his nose.

She grabs at the back of his head with one hand, holding him to her.  Thalia drops her head back and sighs, “Yes.”

His lips slide up her neck and his nose grazes her skin, delivering feathery touches to light her skin on fire and with her other hand she grabs his on her hip and holds it tight.  “Do you want me to sleep on the couch?” he whispers against the soft spot under her ear, kissing tenderly with his lips slightly open and searing her with a quick flick of his tongue.  He can feel her pulse racing and her shallow breaths echo in his ear.

“No,” quietly escapes her lips.

Chris grasps their hands resting on her hip in a tender squeeze and asks, “Do you want me to come to bed with you?”  He expertly pulls her earlobe between his teeth and sucks gently, his mouth pulling back into a smile when her knees buckle and she falls against him.

She squeezes his hand back and shyly replies in a barely breathed out sound, “Yes.”

“Thalia?”  She hums at the sound of her name.  “You’re still very young; You’re not giving anything to me?”  he asks patiently, voicing his concern.

Giggling quietly she turns her head to expose more of her neck to his devouring lips and with a soft voice addresses his thoughts.  “Oh, no, that was taken a long time ago.  And I’m not that young.”  She relaxes against him, allowing him to hold her up.  Her voice a bit stronger, she continues, “But I have a feeling you could have other firsts for me?”

Weakened himself by her thoughts, he nips at her flesh. Chris longs to brand her, to see his teeth marks, his handprints on her tanned velvet skin.  He feels a desire to possess her, to make her succumb to him.  But he also likes her fiery personality and wants nothing more than for her to power over him.

Taking her hand in his, he nods to the closed door and she shakes her head.  Pushing ahead he opens the door and waits for her to pass by him.  Moving across the room, he quietly orders, “Stop,” before she reaches the bed.  Moving behind her, he sweeps her hair into his hand, admiring it’s glossy sheen and the curls most women would kill for, seeing again the image he had moments before of him pulling her hair during a more sensual act.  He lifts it to his nose, inhaling the flowery scent.  “No smoke now,” he teases lightly in her ear, delighting in the chill that runs down her spine.  Still damp, he pulls it together and begins to make a loose plait, his hands brushing across her shoulders and back as he works.

“Mmm…  That’s nice,” she murmurs with her husky voice.

Her voice hits him below the belt, stirring him to rise again.  He tugs on his jeans, wiping off the precum he feels spilling over.  Coughing, he asks quietly, “Elastic?” and she removes it from her wrist and holds it over her shoulder.  He takes it from her outstretched hand and holds it in place as he gently kisses her palm.  When he lets her hand go, she runs it down the side of her neck and movement catches his eye.  In the dark room, only the small glow of a bedside lamp, he can see her in a mirror across the room. Her hand runs over her large breast and her nipples harden under the tank top, unencumbered by a bra, before she wraps her arm around her waist.

Jesus fuckin’ Christ.  She’s been sitting on the couch like that over an hour?

She awkwardly shifts her weight from one foot to the next as he quickly ties off the end of the braid.  Dropping it down her back, it reaches to her waist and he gives it a tug as he admires his handiwork.  Quiet sounds of her breathing and cars passing in the street below fill the room.  Placing his hands on her back, he runs his hands up her sides, feeling over her curves and across the tops of her shoulders to the collar of her robe.  Grabbing the neckline, he pulls it back off her shoulders and lets it fall to the floor between them.  Her shoulders rise as she takes a deep breath, and he runs his hands slowly down her skin in the same fluid motion as before.  She makes no sound but her skin warms under his touch.  Kicking the robe out of the way, he steps to her, flush against her body, his threadbare jeans doing little to hide the hardness of his cock she has caused. Similar in height, his evident arousal brushes across her ass and she involuntarily pushes back against him.  His arms join hers around her waist, slowly rising up under her tank to grasp the tender flesh of her full breasts-

Music blares through the room from her phone. His hands drop when she steps forward, bending over the end of the bed to reach it.  “Fuck,” he declares, her ass in the air, and her tits falling free in the reflection of the mirror.

She pulls her tank top up, covering herself up self-consciously.  She turns her body, sitting on the edge of the bed, watching him with a smile, shaking her head.  Rolling her eyes at his stare, she nervously glances at the screen.   Her expression lifts as she answers the phone.  “Yes, Jim, I’m good.  Yes, I know his car is still parked out there.  He’s here…  Asleep in my room…  When I’m done studying I’ll sleep on the couch…  Jim, I’m not your daughter…  Yes, I know…”

Chris groans when she adjusts her tank, and rises up to tug down on the legs of the shorts, riding up into her personal sweet space.   “I’m in the living room studying…  Dude was drunk and it’s 20 degrees out.  Roads will be slick.  I told him to stay…. Yes.  I know.  I know.  Thanks for always having my back…  Yea, ya big goof, I love you too.”

Pressing ‘close’ on her phone, she tosses the phone into the pillows. Giggling, she blushes and sighs.  “Kinda broke the mood didn’t it?”

Looking down at her, sitting on the bed, the true co-ed she is, Chris stalks forward, pulling his tight blue sweater and t-shirt off in one swift motion and tossing it on the floor.  Biting his lip, he places his knee on the bed next to her and places his large hand on her chest, spanning across her collarbone.  “Heart’s still racing, sweetheart.  And you got some of your spirit back.  I don’t think the breathy ingenue is really you; but fuck it was a turn on.”

Looking up at him with her dark eyes of melted chocolate, she starts, “Chris, I-”

“No, honey.  The problem isn’t you.  You said “guys” don’t look at you… It’s the boys you date.  You need someone older to appreciate you; to take care of you.”  With his other hand, he unbuckles his belt and watches as her eyes scan across his chest, taking in his tats from shoulder to shoulder.  With a cocky grin he tells her, “They’re all spelled right, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

He slides the leather belt from the loops and brushes it across her thighs, feeling her shiver at his hold on her.  Her grin quickly changes to desire and the light gleaming in her eyes advances from playful to aroused.  “A woman like you needs a man.  A man can fuck you till morning; make you come three times before sunrise and leave you begging for more.”

With the force of his hand, he pushes her back on the bed with a slight bounce. She raises one of her perfectly arched eyebrows at him, and teases.  “Three times, huh?  A little cocky, aren’t you?”

“Oh, sweetheart, it’s not little,” Chris promises as he falls on top of her, gently applying his weight and pushing her into the bed as he attacks her neck.   He brushes his scruff against her tender skin, knowing the effect it will have on her.  Thalia giggles while bringing her arms under his.  Her hands stretch over his shoulder blades, feeling their strength and power.  He returns to nibbling at her neck as he had done in the living room, the desire to taste her overwhelming.  Tenderly he grasps her skin between his teeth and bites as tiny sweet sounds escape between her lips. Tilting her head back she gives him more access to her delicate flesh and begins to wiggle beneath him.  He shifts, allowing his aching cock to fit between her legs and he grinds against her.

“Oh, fuck,” she breathes out sinfully, scraping her nails across his back, digging slightly.

Moaning against her neck, he drags his beard against her again, leaving beard burn and marking her.  The desire to claim her is strong in his gut, to show to everyone she belongs to someone.  His inner monologue tells himself to shut up.  This is just one drunken night, he thinks.  But he still wants her to feel the ache for days…

He already knows he’s lying to himself – knows he’s sober- when she shifts, lifting her leg and rubbing it over his ass before sliding it down his leg, holding him closer to her.  Going in for another lick along the pulsing vein in her neck, he reaches to slide the strap of her tank top down her shoulder.  More forcefully than intended, the lace snaps and they both pause.  He looks up to her and sees the mirth in her eyes.

“Fuck it; never liked it anyway,” she giggles, toying at his chain, admiring his St. Christopher’s medallion.  “Good Catholic boy… Nice,” she wickedly grins, using it to pull him forward, lifting her head to connect their swollen lips.

his chain

“Can’t trust those Catholic girls,” he teases, his kisses drifting along her jawline.  He can’t get enough of the taste of her skin.

Sliding her leg back up his, she presses her heel into the cheek of his ass, rising up to grind against him.  “No, not at all,” she sassily agrees.

“Shut up and kiss me again,” he taunts, caressing his hand across her cheek, sliding across her freckles and winding under her hair.  Her lips collide with his and his large palm stretches from her ear to the back of her skull.  He squeezes lightly as her tongue darts in his slightly opened mouth, teasing and prying for more space.  His groan is swallowed by her kiss, her tongue lightly sliding against his, silently begging for his permission.  He opens his mouth, and returns the motions as their tongues tangle as if greeting one another.  Her breathing is labored and he feels her heat rising between her legs, turned on simply by his touches and kisses.

If this is her reaction to their tame foreplay, he can’t wait to really get her going.  Lifting his body up on both arms, resting his fists on either side of her head, he pushes between her legs again.  Without his weight on her, her body arches to him, her glorious tits raised. He grinds down on her, painfully aware of his own aching cock, wanting to seek solace and relief deep inside her.  She moans quietly and her head rolls back against the bed, her hands clenching the sheets next to her, his eyes drawn to them.

Not truly wanting to power over her, yet, Chris tells her quietly, “Touch me; I wanna feel your hands on me.”

Her warm hands drift to his sides, sliding along the waist of his jeans, dipping cautiously below the waistband.  Goosebumps form on his skin, desiring more touches from her.  The feathery caress teases him and he presses closer to her again as her hands reach lower, squeezing his ass.  She bites her lip, inhaling deeply at the discovery he’s commando.

“Damn, Thalia, you’re driving me crazy.”

Shaking her head in disbelief, he can see her denying his words.  “You’re beautiful, desirable,” he tells her.  “Sexy as hell, woman, and if no one has told you that before, they didn’t look close enough.”

Pulling her hands back, she runs them over his back, as if she’s afraid to play with the actual fire.  “Chris, this is just play.  A fun night; I get it.  You don’t have to say-”

“I always tell the truth; especially to a beautiful woman,” he rolls himself to her side, lowering his mouth to breath against her skin. “Maybe we won’t leave this bed till you believe it,” he whispers with a growl as he pushes down her tank top, exposing her swollen peak to him.  Her dark brown nipple is so tantalizing; he washes over it gently with his tongue and she whimpers aloud, not even holding back the aching need caught in the back of her throat.  Chuckling, he licks slowly again.  “Like that, do you?  Tell me, give me your sounds; don’t hold back,” he shares.

“Then do it again,” she replies, sliding one hand up to hold the back of his head against her breast.

Happily complying with her wish, he is treated when she rolls on her side to face him and the tank top pulls down, revealing the second delicious button.  He lavishes it with the same attention, but her quiet mewls encourage him to add pressure and he gropes with one hand while his tongue plays over her.

“Uhh…” she moans, throwing her leg over his hip and rolling him to her.  Snaking her hands between them she runs her hands over his washboard abs, teasing along his Adonis belt.  His breathing heightens and his need for her builds when she tangles her fingers in the trail of trimmed hairs leading her to the prize.  Her tentative touches are light and unsure so he’s surprised when she pops the button of his jeans and reaches inside.

Her soft hands brush over his broad tip, wiping at the precum he expels in response to her sexiness.  Sliding her hands lower she grabs him with both hands, not even reaching from tip to base. “Shit, not little is right, baby.”

Raising his head from her beautiful exposed breasts, his eyes meet hers, a mix of fear and desire.  “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you’re ready for me.”  Given the heat and wetness he feels pushing against his denim clad thigh as she slowly rocks against him, he’s not too worried. About that, anyway.  “Thalia?  This was the the furthest thing from my mind when I left my place tonight; I’m not really prepared.  Do you have anything?”

“Seducing grad students wasn’t on the agenda, Professor?” She tightens her hold and tugs, pulling a groan from deep within his chest.

“Ah, fuck,” he chuckles, growing stiffer from her handling.  “Nah, I’m the only one that’s tugged that in a while, sweetheart.”

Biting her lip, she inhales.  “I’m covered, and I have stuff in the basket under the bed.  No worries,” she informs him.

“A fun basket?” His eyes delight in the thought of truly playing with her.  There he goes again, thinking in the future.  “Can’t wait to see what you’ve got.”

She giggles.  “How about the real thing tonight?  I can’t wait to see what you’ve got.”  Sucking in her breath, she whispers out, “It feels amazing in my hands.  So big…” Running her fingers across the veiny weave of his cock, she adds.  “So thick…”

He wants to respond to her but she instinctively licks her lips and his mouth falls to hers, pulled like a magnet.  Flicking his tongue across her raw flesh where he’s scratched her with his beard, his tongue teases hers again, running along the tops of her teeth and pulling out slowly.  She sighs and seems to melt beside him as she rolls to her back, flopping her arm to her side, the other still rhythmically pulling on him.

Dropping his eyes, he watches her hand, hidden still in his jeans and he lifts his hips to slide them down under the curve of his ass allowing more freedom for her movements.  Fully exposed, her hand reminds him of the way he watched her pull on the tap at the bar just hours before.  Was it only hours ago?  Her hands move methodically, and he realizes he’ll spill his seed if she doesn’t stop.  “Thalia, you need to-”

“You promised me three times before sun up, Mister.  This will help you last longer.”

Rising to her knees beside him he sees her eyes pleading with him as she continues to pull and twist his sensitive skin, reaching down to caress his balls with her other hand.  Kneeling there, she strikes an imposing figure, curves and beauty, all focused on him.  Damn, how did she flip it on him?  But she makes a point…  Raising up on his elbows to watch her work, he replies with a groan, “Have at it; it’s all yours.”  He grins, waving his hand as if he’s gifting himself to her.

Tentatively at first, her confidence builds and she pulls him to a crest, a tightening building in his thighs, whispering “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”  He thrusts into her hands and spurts his cum over his chest, dribbling on her fingers and some rolling down his side onto the bed covers.  Her smile can’t hide her satisfaction and she takes it all in stride, pulling the ripped tank top over her head to clean the mess.  He’s surprised and so turned on when she casually licks the drips from her fingers.  “Damn, that’s really sexy,” he hisses, sitting up and placing his hand on the back of her neck, drawing her to him in a passionate kiss, his hormones surging as his body still quakes.  “Hell, I really needed that,” he chuckles.

Giggling, she shakes her head and replies, “Glad I could help.”

Click here for Chapter 16 Three

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

Closing Time

et ch 14 closing time april 19 2017

Educating Thalia

Chapter 14

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: 3400

Warnings:  Language, Adult Situations, fluff, drinking, discussion of homelessness, thoughts of sexual situations

Summary:  Professor Evans seeks solace in a bottle and finds himself in the bar where grad-student Thalia Bareo is finishing her night shift….

Click here to the introduction of Educating Thalia

“Ah, shit,” she mumbles, wiping the counter down. Her grumble catches his attention and he looks up, a smile of recognition dawning across his face. A brief image of the lovely woman before him in a short Tartan plaid skirt quickly romps through his memory.  With a slight nod, he runs his fingers across the top of his glass indicating another, and she motions to the other man behind the bar that she’s got this.

“What’s your poison, professor?” The plump latina asks, her accent thick and sultry.

He indicates the tap and looks on as her hand subtly strokes the metal handle before she pulls it down, watching the foamy brew flow into the chilled glass, stopping just before it spills over.

She sets it down with a clink in front of him. “I work all the way out here so I don’t have to put up with the college crowd; what’s your excuse for being at this dive?”

He ponders his response, taking a long sip of the dark hops as it cools down his throat. Even in the dark bar he can see her eyes darken for a moment while she watches the muscles in his neck as he gulps the beverage down. He continues drinking, his eyes on her as a blush rises on her cheeks and her nipples begin to strain against her shirt. She turns away from him, grabbing a bowl of mixed nuts to place in front of him, the heat diminished in her eyes.

He runs his thumb across his bottom lip, gathering the wasted drops off beer and flicks his tongue across the pad of his finger before replying. “I needed to get away from the college crowd too,” he tells her honestly.  “Sometimes it’s just too much bullshit, ya know?”

She wipes her hands on her apron, “Man, I hear that.  So what is it this time? Johanas and Smythes fighting over offices again, or the library collection refuses to update the check out system for references?”  she teases.

He chuckles and takes a handful of nuts, palming them and pushing them into his mouth.  “All of the above, and shitty freshmen that can’t write a goddamn sentence to save their lives.”

She laughs and rolls her eyes.  “I hear that too. Working as a TA in the language department; I can’t believe what they let in these ivy league doors these days, it’s a disgrace.”  Winking, her long lashes close and rest against her freckled cheek while she shares her tease with him.  “Kids wasting Daddy’s money, while I gotta work my ass off to get anywhere.”

She turns in a fluid movement to grab a bottle filled with an incandescent blue liquid, and his mind freezes on her use of the word ‘daddy’ and ‘ass’ in the same sentence.  From where he sits high on the bar stool, he can admire her rounded backside, in tight jeans with silver stitching on the pockets.  Reaching up to grab a bottle on a higher shelf, her shirt rises just enough to see a hint of her beautifully tanned skin.  Turning back to the main bar, she blushes lightly and self-consciously pulls her shirt back down.  He’s fascinated by watching her work as she mixes up a drink and shoots it smoothly down the wooden countertop and the other bartender catches it.  

“Thalia, right?”  Chris asks.  He knows she works for Hiddleston, but he vaguely remembers her from one of his study groups a year or two ago.  How could he forget such a beautiful name for such an alluring woman?  “You were in one of my classes, right?”

She nods.  “Your Women’s History class?  I gave my speech on roles of women in the World War II era while dressed in a USO showgirl outfit?”

Hell yeah.  She’d given the speech from memory, save for one notecard she pulled out of her cleavage halfway through the presentation.  He’d had such a hard-on the rest of the hour, he had to give her an A just because he couldn’t focus on a damn word she’d said.

“Do you commonly give costumed speeches?”  He asks, seeing her differently in the dark bar than he has before as she walks across campus, arms full of books.

Accepting a tip from a leaving customer she smiles brightly.  “Nah, I was young and foolish then, and besides, I’d worked really hard to make that outfit for a costume party.  I thought I might as well get more good out of it,” she laughs.

He smiles.  “Not so foolish now?”

“Grad student.  Bills to pay.  No time for fun.  Between school and workin-”

“Hey!” A voice at the end of the bar barks, “I don’t pay ya to flirt, I pay ya to mix drinks and clean tables.  Get to it!”

She drops her eyes.  “Sorry. Um, I wasn’t really… “  Shaking her head, she clears her throat.  “It was nice talking to you Professor Evans; I owe, I owe, it’s back to work I go.”  Humming quietly, she walks away, stopping at the end of the counter to pick up a big gray bucket to use to clean the tables.

He downs two more drinks during her absence, playing on his phone and returning emails.  Rolling his shoulders, he stretches his neck from side to side, watching her reflection in the aged mirror in front of him, rather than turning to admire her full figure.   Her dark curly hair cascades down her back, skimming just the top of the waist of her jeans.  Her tight v-neck tshirt supports a logo for the school team and hugs her tits just right.  From the fit, he can tell her bra is just a little too tight, and with each step she has an extra jiggle that makes him hard now.  He begins to fantasize about groping her voluptuous breasts from behind as he pounds against her ass.  Maybe she would even call him ‘daddy.’  

He shakes his head to clear the image.  Removing his glasses, he places them on the counter, rubbing his stubble gruffly.  Fuck.  She’s a student.  Even a damn good lay wouldn’t be worth risking his job.  And she would be good…  He can just sense it about her and that makes his cock twitch in his pants, and at the moment, he rather wishes he hadn’t gone commando after his shower at the gym.

He catches the eye of the other bartender and as if the guy could read his thoughts, Chris drops his head and hides his face in the crook of his elbow, staring into the amber liquid in his glass.

She chats with the other patrons and is obviously friendly with a few of the regulars.  When one guy tries to get a little handsy with her, she’s already twisted the man’s arm behind his back before he can jump to her rescue.  She gives the man a push and sends him on his way.  Chris watches as he scurries out the door.

Returning to her position at the bar, her face brightens when she realizes he’s still there.  “It’s late; don’t you need to be getting home?” she asks kindly, adding payments to the cash register and making a few notes.

“To be honest, I had a shit day and don’t wanna be alone,” he scoffs, slightly drunk and words slurred..  “When do you get off… work?” he adds with a wry smile, swishing around what’s left in the bottom of his glass.  “Sit with me and have some coffee while I dry out before I drive home?”

He sees her discreetly looking to his hands, possibly admiring their thickness or looking for signs of attachment, so he stretches his fingers to show there’s no wedding ring.   She leans into the counter, and pulls the glass from his hands, sitting it on the lower counter in front of her.  She rests her elbows on the bar in such a way to push her boobs together to showcase their beauty and whispers, “I got a better plan.  My apartment is just across the street.”  She twists her head to look at the neon clock on the wall behind her, exposing her graceful neck to him, to look at the time. “How ‘bout some early morning pancakes and some hot coffee before I have to hit the books.  Some of us actually prepare before we attend our classes,” she teases.

Chris can’t believe his luck.  It’s like an open invitation, but he sees a vulnerability in her too.  Her offer is gracious and full of concern over his slightly drunken state.  “That’s really nice, but we don’t have to,” he tries to deny his wish to say yes.  “The diner on the corner is open.”

She scoffs and rolls her eyes, “And it’s shit.  Besides, I really hate going anywhere after work and smelling like an ashtray.  I was gonna fix coffee anyway, so it’s no big deal.”  The beauty shrugs her shoulders, indicating it really is no trouble.

How can he resist?  “Sounds good.”  He pulls his wallet out of his back pocket and counts out a few bills to cover his tab.  She takes the money and raises her eyebrow at the tip.  Handing it back to him, he puts his hands up to stop her.

“Ok, fine,” she huffs.  He watches her move over to the end of the bar to open the register and address the other bartender.  “It’s slowing down and the tables are clear.  I’m outta here.”  Counting out her tips for the night, she doesn’t see the scowl on the older man’s face, but Chris catches it as the man turns to glare at him.

He strains to listen to their exchange over the din of the bar.  He can’t hear most of it, so he puts his glasses back on; he’s perfected the art of lip reading over the years.  Something to do on a slow day during boring staff meetings.  He catches the man’s concern for his female counterpart. “What? You’re leaving here with pretty boy?  Thalia, what are you doing?”

‘Pretty boy?’  Chris observes her looking around the bar, sweeping her arms wide.  Her voice is higher pitched and easier to hear.  “You’d rather I leave with one of the other patrons?  At least if pretty boy has tats, they’re spelled right.  But, Jim, don’t worry, my heart still belongs to you.”   She pats his big belly and rises on her toes to kiss his cheek.  Chris smiles at the scene.

Untying the apron, she tosses it under the bar.  He swears her voice is a bit louder, for his benefit as she continues. “Don’t worry about me.  You’ve seen me kick ass around here, you know if he tries something and I’m not interested, I can totally handle myself.”

Their voices drop but Chris continues to read their lips.  “You’re interested,” Jim nods towards him.

Thalia turns her brilliant smile to him and he watches her puff out her chest slightly and pull her shoulders back.   He returns the look and stands up from his seat, pulling his coat from the empty stool next to him.

She shakes her hair out, a thoughtful expression on her face.  “Maybe; I don’t know,” she says to the other bartender.  She grabs her coat from the hook and walks around the bar, titling her head to the exit and Chris follows her out, his hand on her lower back.

Outside in the cold, she pulls her collar up to protect her ears and loops her arm in his before stuffing her hands in her pockets.  “It’s just across the street; that doorway,” she gestures with her head as she leads him across the street.  Fumbling with her keys in the cold, she asks him to step around behind her for a minute.  “Hang on just a second; can you hold it open?”

“Sure?” he asks as she steps around the corner of the building and yells something down the alley and he hears a scuffle.  He’s surprised when she returns to see another woman with her.  “Tina, this is my friend, Chris.  He’ll be here tonight too, okay?”

Tina steps inside the warm entrance and mumbles something.  Thalia pulls a wrapped sandwich and apple from her pocket and hands it to the woman.  “Sleep well, Tina,” she says as the woman shuffles down the hall and disappears under the stairway.  

Thalia nods her head up the stairs and starts climbing.  Chris steps up beside her and quietly asks, “What was that about?”

Thalia grins and presses her lips closed tightly for a moment.  “She has no place to stay.  She’s harmless so a few of us let her in the building on cold nights and she sleeps under the stairs.”  Stopping at the third landing, she halts in front of the door on the right and unlocks it.  “I know it sounds crazy, but I’ve offered her my couch.”  She shakes her head, her hair falling around her shoulders.  “But she always says no.  About once a week I am able to convince her to come up for a shower and we have hot tea.”

Chris is blown away by her generosity.  “You have a habit of taking in strays?  Me?  Tina?  What do you two talk about?”

The door open, she motions for him to enter and reaches around and flicks the light switch.  He’s struck by the chill in the air, but the light casts a warm glow around the small space.  She places the keys on a side table and rubs her hands together for warmth.  “Wanna sit at the table? You might wanna keep your coat on.  It’ll take a while for the place to warm up.”  She moves to the radiator and clangs on it a few times with a metal wrench and Chris immediately remembers his days as a poor grad student too.  He bites back his laughter at the expression on her face, when she bangs it again and curses in Spanish before it rattles to life.

Crossing to the kitchen, she lays her gloves on the counter, and fills a kettle with water before adding it to the machine and settling it in its spot.  “She tells me about her life before she lost it all; her husband and son were killed in a car accident, and she just gave up after that.”    She reaches to her left and pulls out a coffee filter and grounds, measuring and adding it as well.  She pushes the orange button and the coffee maker makes a quiet hiss as it begins to do its job.

He watches as she moves about the kitchen and instantly feels at home in her space.  Funny.  That’s a feeling he hasn’t had in months.  He looks around as she talks a little more about Tina and straightens the counters, maybe a little embarrassed a guest is seeing it in a messed up state.  She halts when she realizes he’s watching and giggles.  “Sorry.  Habit.  I’m not used to having guests, and it’s a mess.”  She hands him a tin of cookies from above the stove and places two mugs on the table.  “So, listen.  Can you finish up the coffee?  If I have to smell like that bar for five more minutes, I might scream.”  She pulls a strand of hair to her nose and inhales.  She drops it in disgust and makes a stink face.  “It’s just awful; in my hair, on my clothes; on my skin.  I hate it.  And my hands?  I think they always smell like beer.”

She’s standing just close enough that he reaches to grab one of her hands and brings it to his face, brushing his nose against her palm.  Breathing deeply, the smell is strong, but she’s just left work.  “Occupational hazard?” he teases as he gently caresses the back of her hand with his thumb, enjoying the soft feel of her skin, afraid to lift his eyes to hers.

Clearing her throat, Thalia pulls her hand away slowly but the catch in her breath is audible and seems to echo in the silence between them.  Quietly she tells him, “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to shower.  I won’t be long.  Make yourself at home.”

She rushes from the room quickly and enters through a closed door.  A few moments later, she comes out and rounds the corner and passes into another room with an armload of clothes. He hears the turn of the lock.  As he makes his coffee, he tries not to imagine her naked and wet in the shower, but the thought jumps into his mind anyway. Adding sugar, he visualizes the rivulets of water running across her hills and valleys as she soaps away a long night at work. If he were there with her, he’d follow the wetness all over her curves, with his fingers and his tongue. He’d… Shit, he probably shouldn’t be thinking this.

Chuckling at the sound of her humming, he tries to identify the song he’s heard on the radio as he reaches to the fridge for creamer.  On the door, he sees a recent application for paperwork to travel overseas and sees her birthdate, during the week of finals  She just turned twenty-five.  Pushing his glasses up, he rubs his forehead.  Twenty-five.  Fuck.  Is that too young?  She’s a grad student.  He shrugs his shoulders.  Not a student in his department.  What’s the harm there?

Sipping his coffee, he walks around the tiny space.  On the bookshelf are photos of friends and family…  A notice from a funeral she attended a few months back.  Books are piled everywhere.  Lots of little trinkets from tourist destinations across Europe.

The radiator is slowly warming the room, with a slight chill still hanging in the air.  He removes his coat and hangs it over the back of the chair before sitting on the couch and pulling the soft blue blanket around him.  The furniture is nice and newer, not typical college student decor.  He sinks back against the sueded fabric and settles in as the water shuts off.  Again, trying to shut out any thoughts of her naked behind the closed door, he pulls out his phone and checks for any updated messages.  Seeing none, he scowls at the screen, jumping a bit when the door creaks open.  

“Hey,” she says quietly as a waft of orchids from her bath soaps float from the room.  Her long curly hair is wrapped in a towel perched precariously on her head.

Damn, that’s really sexy, he thinks.  How do girls do that?  He smiles at her, in a pink polka dotted robe, tied loosely over a tank top and plaid pajama shorts.  When she walks to the kitchen, the robe splits open and he catches sight of the way her thighs sensually rub against one another as she moves. “Hey,” he responds.  “I didn’t know how you take your coffee so I just uh, didn’t fix it.”

She giggles.  “Strong and bold, with a little sugar.  Like my men,” she laughs and the sound is so joyous, he joins in the mirth.  Moving elegantly she seems comfortable in her skin.  Chris likes that about her right away.  She doesn’t seem phased by his presence or uncomfortable to be in her pjs in front of someone she barely knows.  As she fixes her coffee, he asks her a few more questions about Tina, her work at the bar and the memorabilia from her obvious travels.

“Ya know, Thalia, I always got the impression you didn’t like me,” he boldly states.

She settles at the end of the couch and tugs the robe around her middle.  He can see her carefully considering her words.  “You’re the type of man girls like me are taught to stay away from.”

A slow grin crosses his face, “Oh really?  And what type is that?”

“Handsome and self-assured?  But, I don’t know?  Tonight you seemed-  a little broken.  Like you needed someone just to be nice to you.  I can do that.  I can be nice.”

He wonders how nice she could be; how nice it would be to run his fingers through her hair; how nice to slide between her legs; how nice-

He clears his throat and takes another sip of his coffee.

Click here to Chapter 15 Stay

Story updates are posted on Wednesdays and Sundays.

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

 


Rescue Mission

ET ch 10 april 9 2017.jpg

Rescue Mission Chapter 10

Educating Thalia

Collaboration by @devikafernando & @avenger-nerd-mom

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: 3352

Warnings:  Language, Adult Situations, Fluff

Summary: Thalia surprises Tom with a message on Christmas Day – and then it’s his turn to surprise her and take their relationship a step further.

SPECIAL NOTE: Due to Good Friday in the States and the New Year celebration in Sri Lanka, there will be THREE story postings this coming week.  Look for chapters to be posted on Wednesday, April 12; FRIDAY, April 14 and Sunday, April 16.  If you want to make sure you are always up to date with Tom, Thalia and Chris, just follow avenger-nerd-mom on WordPress and stories are sent directly to you!

Click here to the beginning of Educating Thalia

Stomping the snow off his shoes, Tom turns the key in the lock and opens the door. He leaves his scarf and black coat on the rack and toes off his shoes. He has just set down the key and is rubbing some life back into his cold hands when his phone chimes to signal a message.

Hm, who has suddenly remembered him on Christmas day? He has already exchanged wishes with his family in England and India and a few friends all over the world.

None too keen on interaction with someone who probably isn’t worth the time and only felt obliged to be nice during the holiday season, he ignores his phone and goes into the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea.

While he waits for the water to boil, his let his thoughts wander…and they settle on Thalia. What would she be doing right now? He pictures her in something red and figure-hugging, surrounded by playing, bright-eyed children and slightly tipsy adults sharing jovial stories or even singing some carols together, stories tossed back and forth in rapid fire Spanish.

With a sigh, he dips his teabag into the hot water, grinning briefly to himself when he remembers that he still hasn’t been able to teach Thalia how to brew the perfect tea for an Englishman. Well, he’s certainly taught her other things…

Feeling more cheerful and wistful at the same time at the thought of her so far away, Tom carries his steaming mug into the living room. He plonks himself onto the couch, stretching his long legs that are slightly tired after the walk.

Bracing himself with a hot sip of Earl Grey, he fishes his phone out of his pocket and glances at the notification. Thalia’s name appears, making him sit bolt upright and nearly spill tea all over his pants.

Why would she text him today? She had wished him Merry Christmas before leaving for break nearly a week ago, and they’d even sent a few messages back and forth.  Her light teases proved she was over any bitterness about his failed date, and she wasn’t holding hurt feelings against him.  She’d expressed she didn’t really have time for even a fake date, but she understood his reasoning.  He felt things were back on an even keel between them and he was content in the blossoming relationship with her.

When Thalia had simply sent a smiley face emoji last night at bedtime, he’d considered calling back instead of texting her, but something had held him back. Surely she was soaking up the family fun and had only contacted him out of some sense of duty. Just because he’s become a part of her life here doesn’t mean she wants him to stick his nose into her other business.

Curiosity peaked, Tom swipes his finger across the screen and reads her message.

Help! Appealing to the English gentleman to rescue a damsel in distress. Do you have a few minutes?

Brows rising, he re-reads the weird message, his free hand blindly groping for the mug so he can take another sip. What’s this all about?

Even more curious now, he types out his reply, wondering idly when he last used his phone to text someone for fun.  He pauses mid-typing when he remembers his catastrophe of a date and the messages he exchanged with Thalia that evening.

As if an Englishman could ever refuse a beautiful woman in dire need of some assistance… What’s the matter?

Her reply is almost instant.

If I don’t get an excuse for leaving this lunatic asylum posing for a family get-together, I’m going to kill someone.

With a chuckle, he settles down more comfortably.

Miss Bareo, I am shocked to the core. It’s Christmas, not Halloween. No gruesome killings, please.  I don’t want to see reports of a Chicago Christmas Massacre on the news.

He gets a laughing emoticon before her reply flashes on the screen.

Thanks, I needed the giggle. It’s just all a bit too much right now. Are you busy, Tom?

Well, you are interrupting my date with a hot cuppa, but I feel inclined to forgive you.

Her answer makes him quirk a brow and smile before drinking some more tea.

Only you would use the phrase ‘inclined to forgive’ in an SMS.

Is that good or bad? he types, feeling a little like a twenty year old messaging his girlfriend—and enjoying that ridiculous notion far too much.

It’s very you.

“Now what’s that supposed to mean?” He mutters aloud to himself, home alone on Christmas. Tom shakes his head, fingers hovering above the keys. Before he can reply, a new message appears.

This might be a bit weird, but…

He waits with bated breath, curious to know what on earth she wants to share that would be weird.

Would you Skype with me?

Staring at the screen, he wonders for a moment whether she’s serious. Has she had one drink too many?

What the hell, why not? He types his reply, grinning to himself.

As I said, the gentleman in me would never refuse a damsel in distress. Especially not if said damsel happens to be you.

He gets a thumbs up and her username in reply.

His tea forgotten, Tom gets up to grab his MacBook from the desk and carries it to the sofa. He switches it on, feeling oddly nervous for a moment. What’s he supposed to say? Why does she want to video chat with him? And why the heck does it make him so happy beneath the confusion?

He fiddles with his denim textured shirt, rolls the sleeves up and pats his hair, then catches himself being all fidgety and scoffs. As soon as Skype has loaded, he searches for her and adds her to his list of contacts, drumming his long fingers against the keyboard.

Hardly a minute later, a video call flashes and he accepts it.

It’s kind of surreal to see Thalia’s face pop up after a moment. Her curly hair is tamed into a loose braid, but some defiant strands have wiggled free. She’s wearing what looks like a seriously ugly knit Christmas sweater, and a fine gold necklace that draws his attention because she’s not the type to deck herself out in jewelry.

“Hi,” she says, a tentative smile lighting up her features, though it doesn’t make the tension around her eyes go away.

“Hi,” he replies somewhat dumbly, at a loss for what to say.

For a few moments, they sit like that, looking at each other and smiling uncertainly. The longer the awkward silence lasts, the more fidgety Tom feels. He smiles a little brighter as if to encourage her to speak, but feels ridiculous. To give himself something to do, he takes off his glasses and sets them aside, then goes back to staring at the screen. His tongue flicks over his lips. He swallows, willing himself to speak.

“So, what on earth…” “What were you…”

They both speak at the same time, which makes them laugh and breaks the ice.

“What were you doing?” Thalia asks.

“Nothing special. I just came home from a long, lonely walk through mostly deserted and much too windy streets.”

She gives him an incredulous look. “Seriously? What sane person walks around town alone on Christmas day?”

He narrows his eyes at her. “And what sane person Skypes with her professor on Christmas day?”

She grimaces. “Point taken. In my defense, I’m with family, Tom.” She says the word like a curse.  “I’m going stir crazy and longing to drive a carving knife into a few people’s necks.”

“Whoa there, my warrior.  If you keep up the murder talk you’ll scare me away.” He smiles at her again, shifting on the sofa and taking the laptop with him to sit more comfortably. She doesn’t smile back, and he realizes again that she’s all tense and morose despite the banter.

“What’s the matter, darling?”

The word slips out automatically and he bites his lip. Is she even alone?

Taking his cue, Thalia moves too, and he catches a blurry glimpse of stuffed toys and photographs before she settles down and it’s just her face against a light lavender colored wall.

“Ugh.” She makes a frustrated noise, gesticulating wildly. “All of this is driving me crazy. I see my extended family only on rare occasions, and when I do, I remember why.”

Rubbing her temple, she searches for the right words.

“I know they mean well, but I hate it when everyone makes my life their business. All the career advice and badly concealed criticism. And if my aunts ask me one more time when I’m planning to marry a nice man with a steady income and settle down, I swear I’ll poke my eardrums out with a rusty nail or something.”

Tom bites back a chuckle, secretly loving how her Latina temperament comes to the fore when she’s annoyed.

“I can’t even imagine this,” he admits. “But whoever thinks you need career advice is obviously a prat or seriously delusional because you’re one of the smartest women I know and on the sure-fire path to academic success.”

Her whole posture relaxes a little, one hand rising to play idly with the end of her braid resting over her curved breast, making his hands itch to do the same.  He tugs down on the leg of his pants, adjusting himself discreetly.

“Thank you. Seriously. I mean, I know I’ve got brains and I’m doing what I love, but… it gets to me, all the sly jabs mixed with well-meaning people who have no idea what is important to me. It’s enough to make a girl feel like a worthless piece of shit.”

Before he can protest, she launches into another heated complaint, tugging harder on her hair. “And they’re right, aren’t they? I’m burying myself in studies because I have no fucking idea what else to do. I don’t even know whether I’ll find a decent job, and in the meantime, I’m working myself to death so I can pay my rent.”

She scrunches up her face and sniffs, and Tom really wants to hug her and comfort her. Or inch his hands beneath that monstrosity of a sweater and make her forget all her worries.

“Don’t say that,” he admonishes gently, lifting a hand as if he could actually touch her.

“You’re letting them get to you, and you know you shouldn’t. Nobody knows what the hell they’re doing, Thalia. We’re all just living our lives and doing what we think is best. Or at least people like you and me do, and we’re probably happier than those who let others decide what’s right and wrong.”

He rubs his neck, struggling for the right words. “You’re doing what you’re damn good at and what you like. Whatever is supposed to happen after that will fall into place once it’s time. And you’re an amazing woman who’s come farther in such a short time than a ton of people twice your age. Me included, probably.”

He grins self-deprecatingly, and a corner of her mouth lifts.

“Now you’re just downplaying yourself to make me feel better,” she argues half-heartedly.  She whispers, “And you’re not ‘twice my age,’ Tom.”

He purses his lips at her pointed reference to age.  She’s right, nearly a decade isn’t that much, but some days the age difference seems like light years apart.  He sighs and chooses to ignore her statement.  “The point is, Thalia, that you’re not answerable to your family or any nay-sayers.  It’s not your duty to marry and raise enough children to form a football team, or to visit them more often and let them hack away at your admirable self-confidence. Your only duty is to yourself. To be true to yourself. To be happy.”

She sighs, and this time her whole mouth curves in a slow smile that reaches her eyes.

“You’re being entirely too nice to me, Professor Hiddleston.”

Her words tug at him, loosening something inside.

“I’m sure I’ll find a way for you to pay me back,” he says in a deep, low tone that makes her eyes darken.

They stare at each other, neither willing to break the connection.

When Thalia finally looks away, her gaze slides over his face and his torso, and he can feel it like a caress.

“Did you go to the staff party yesterday?” she asks, moving restlessly as if she’s felt the change in atmosphere too.

It’s his time to groan in frustration. “I did, yeah. Don’t remind me.”

She giggles. “That bad? Tell me all about it.”

Tom leans back and props himself up on a cushion. He tells her about the food – atrocious when compared to what the English prepare for Christmas – and about the stilted speeches, about the wreath that nearly caught fire and the secretary who spilled her drink all over herself and got rescued by Professor Evans.

“Was Professor Kent there too?” she wants to know, and Tom grimaces.

“Gave me the cold shoulder the whole time. If looks could kill, you’d be Skyping with my ghost now.”

That sends her into another fit of laughter. “Serves you right for texting me all throughout the date. Pfft, gentleman, my ass.”

Tom grins at her wolfishly. “Oh, your ass certainly doesn’t make me feel very gentlemanly.”

She half-chokes on her laugh, eyes going wide.

“God, I wish I weren’t here. I have a feeling you’d make the Christmas blues go away very efficiently,” she says, her tone half longing and half seductive.

“Me too. I miss you.” Tom flinches, wishing he hadn’t quite blurted that out.

But her expression softens. “I miss you too.” She sounds mildly surprised at her own admission.

“How long will you be stuck there?” he asks after an awkward pause.

“I fly back around the third, I think?  Gotta get back into the frame of mind for school.  My brain is rotting here… New year, new schedule.”  She screws her eyes shut and makes a whining sound.

“Well, then, when you get back, we’ll just have to make the best of it.  I saw an advertisement that the old movie house will be showing a film I’d like to take you to see.  I think you’ll really like it…”

Her sweet voice begging for details fills his ears and his heart lifts on a lonely Christmas Day.  He can see Thalia’s mood brightens considerably as well, and before long they’re both laughing and throwing Shakespeare lines back and forth that only make everything even more hilarious.

His answer to one of her queries is interrupted by someone calling her name. He hears loud knocking and watches her head swivel to where he presumes the door is positioned in the room.

“Alright, alright, I’m coming, basta ya” she shouts before turning back to him, chagrin on her face.

“I’m sorry. I guess it was too much to hope for at least an hour or so to breathe. I’d better go back into the lion’s den.”

“Lions hold nothing on you,” Tom says softly. He leans forward to fix her in his gaze. “You can do this, darling. You’re a wonderful woman. Don’t let anyone convince you otherwise.”

Thalia smiles at him a little sadly. “Thanks again. You have a nice time with your tea, Professor.”

On impulse, Tom blows a kiss at the camera, seeing her breath hitch before her smile deepens.

Once she’s ended the conversation, he logs out and drinks the rest of his now cold tea in one go. An idea pops to his scattered brain, lost in thoughts of his beautiful Thalia.  Before he knows it, his fingers fly over the keyboard, checking for a way to surprise her. He needs to do this now before he can give himself a chance to chicken out of it.

#

Tom fiddles with the strap of his black backpack, bouncing on the balls of his feet and waiting for the crowd to thin before exiting the building.

He takes a deep breath, still not entirely sure this was a good idea.

Don’t be a wimp, Hiddleston. He gives himself a last mental pep talk before taking out his phone and dialing Thalia’s number.

She picks up after a few rings, and he hopes he hasn’t woken her.

“Tom?” She sounds happy with an undertone of confusion. “Hi. What’s up? I didn’t expect you to call again so soon.”

Clearing his throat, he tries for the nonchalant tone he’s been practicing in his mind, but he sounds a lot more excited and anxious than he wants to.

“Hi. Uhm, good morning. Am I disturbing you?”

“No, not at all.” There is a muffled groan.  “I’m always up before seven am on vacation.”  Her voice is loaded with sarcasm, but the joyous sound rings in his ears.  So he did wake her, he thinks wryly.  “It gives me time to consider whether to fake some sickness so I won’t have to face another day cooped up with clucking aunts and noisy, nosy children, or if I should just run away.”

That makes him chuckle. He grips the shoulder strap tighter.

“So, no plans for today?”

“None whatsoever, unless you consider my murder plans, which I’ve perfected pretty much over the last few hours.”

“I never knew you were such a violent woman, I’d better watch my tongue from now on,” he says, but his tone isn’t as humorous as it should be.

There’s an awkward silence, punctured by a blaring horn on his side and a baby wailing on her side.

“How about…” He swallows and tries again, “How about running away to the Chicago History Museum?”

“Uumm…” Tom can almost picture her face, her nose scrunching in that adorable way it does whenever she frowns.  “You know I love museums, but there’s no way my family would let me go on a day like today; there’s still family stuff and-.”

This is it. He takes another deep breath. “Not even if a certain friend of yours had traveled miles to see you and insists on a tour of the museum?”

Silence.

“Okay, now you’ve kind of lost me,” she giggles.  “Am I still dreaming, because I was actually having a rather delicious dream… you were in it… and we had pancakes?  But I think that’s because I can smell the cooking in the kitchen-”

“Thalia,” he interrupts her early morning rambles, going in for the kill. “If I turned up on your doorstep, ready for some touristy fun, would you be able to extricate yourself from the lion’s den? I could act like the hapless Englishman completely lost here in Chicago…not that I’d need to do much acting, mind you. I do feel like on a different planet.”

There’s a sharp intake of breath and an “oh my god” followed by something muttered in Spanish.

“You’re here, in Chicago? Right now? But…what…oh my god!”

Tom’s smile beams from ear to ear and his heart pounds at the joy and confusion in her voice. “Thalia, it’s the holidays. I hated the idea we’re both lonely. To be completely honest, darling, I wanted a chance to see you away from school. I hope you don’t mind it; I haven’t been too presumptuous have I?”

He waits a bit impatiently for her answer, hearing the lyrical voice of a small child rambling in Spanish through the phone. He hates he can’t see her at this moment, surprised he’s come all this way to see her, or at his slight admission of his true feelings.

He anticipates her answer, not realizing he’s holding his breath.

Her voice drops, possibly not wanting others around her to hear. “You’re… unbelievable.”  She chuckles.  “Yea, I’d love a day as your tour guide.  Let me get myself presentable for you, deal with my step-mom and aunts, and I’ll catch the train as soon as I can.  I can meet you around nine at the museum?”

He finally takes a deep breath. “I’ll see you then, darling.”

Click here to read Chapter 11, Chicago

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

Dating Fiasco

ET ch 9 april 5 2016

Educating Thalia

Collaboration by @devikafernando & @avenger-nerd-mom

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: 3618

Warnings:  Language, Adult Situations, Fluff, Impolite Use of Cellphone

Readers may wish bodily harm on a certain someone after this chapter, and he’s surprisingly clueless, but the bastard wears his glasses… so, there’s that. 

Summary:  Professor Tom tries to keep suspicions away from his secret relationship with his assistant and grad student, Thalia Bareo

Click here for the introduction to Educating Thalia

Tom sits in the staff lounge, his head bent diligently over some paperwork. None of his colleagues have any idea that he’s been staring blankly at the same page for minutes without accomplishing anything.

Over three months have gone by since his secret night with Thalia in the school library, and they’ve managed to sneak many others in too. Their stolen moments are the sunshine in his life now, a time when he can truly be himself and get a taste of what a happy relationship might feel like. If only…

With a sigh, he adjusts his glasses with his forefinger and tries his best to not let his feelings run away with him. Yet his thoughts keep drifting to the idea she’ll be leaving soon after finals, and be gone for the long weeks over the holiday break.  If he’s honest with himself, he doesn’t want to be apart from her that length of time.  Tom shakes his head and turns the page to give the appearance he’s working.  He needs to focus on what his head tells him, not his heart, or they’ll risk being discovered.

“Alright, I’ll call it a day then. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

Laughing at her own joke, Professor Joanna Kent grabs her bag and coat, ready to leave the staff lounge. As usual, she manages to walk by Tom so closely that she ‘accidentally’ brushes his arm.

He grits his teeth. Hiddleston, get your butt into gear and do this.

Suppressing a sigh, he rises and catches up with her in front of the door.

“Joanna?”

She turns, fluttering her lashes at him.

Tom clears his throat and gives himself a mental shake. “I was wondering… A new Greek restaurant opened at Williams Street, and… Would you like to join me there for dinner tonight?”

Her eyes widen, and then the lash-fluttering increases to such speed that he feels dizzy looking at it.

“That sounds lovely, Tom. Tonight at eight? I know which restaurant you mean, I’ve been meaning to check it out. I could meet you there?”

Well, he has to give the woman credit for one thing, she doesn’t beat about the bush.

“Sure. Uhm, great. Yes.”

“Awesome. I’ll see ya then.”

She gives her hips an awkward swishy sway and leaves, her overly sweet cologne lingering unpleasantly, and Tom has to remind himself for the umpteenth time why this is supposed to be a good idea.

“Trying your luck with the local ladies, Hiddleston?” comes Professor Evans’s voice from close by where he’s packing his bag.

“Beginner’s tip,” he adds with a smirk, “you might want to smile a little more.”

Tom resists the urge to roll his eyes, realizing with a start that Thalia is rubbing off on him. He scoffs instead, shooting his colleague a glance. “I’m not entirely sure you’re the right person to be dishing out dating advice, but thanks a lot.”

Smirk still firmly in place, Evans walks out too, leaving Tom alone in the room to sort out his feelings and give himself another pep talk.

Hours later, Tom is fervently praying for a hole to open up in the ground and swallow him whole.

They haven’t even gotten to the meal yet and he’s had more than enough. Struggling hard to keep his polite smile in place, he toys with the napkin.

Professor Kent has been talking incessantly since she arrived – which was fashionably late and in heels so high she’s almost walking on stilts. While she’s always come across as bold and wanting to appear younger than she is, Tom hasn’t expected her to present herself quite so aggressively. Her hot pink dress is a bit too short and offering glimpses of cleavage he certainly won’t be caught staring at. What surprises him even more are the layers of makeup she’s hiding behind. Not that he’s ever looked at her with much interest, but she strikes him as pretty in a sort of bland way. With the right makeup, she would look attractive because she has a nice, small nose and even features. Tonight, however, she’s gone for the siren look complete with garish colors and fake lashes, and it’s all he can do not to cringe.

He wants a woman like Thalia who knows how to bring out the striking features she has, not someone who decks herself out in war paint to slither into a different skin.

Of course, he has complimented her nevertheless, earning himself some fake-humble giggling and two cheeks presented to kiss.

Tom takes a long sip of water and reminds himself to inject “I see”, “oh, really?” and “mhm” at regular intervals while Joanna keeps on talking.

He has no real idea what she’s blathering on about. Oh, he has tried valiantly, because it’s rude of him to ask her out on date and not care…but he’s fighting a losing battle. For one, she jumps from topic to topic and doesn’t much care for input. And it doesn’t help that he wishes he could take Thalia out on a proper date instead. Right here, for everyone to see. It’s like he has this primal urge to officially stake a claim on her or something, although he knows full well that he can’t and won’t.

His phone chimes in his pocket, and he automatically reaches for it.

It’s a message from Thalia, the last thing he’s expected. He texted her right after he left the staff room, telling her about the planned date. Her reply came more than an hour later, consisting only of an “okay” and throwing him off balance. He expected some teasing or at least a longer comment, and the one word with its million ways of interpretation has had him wondering ever since.

He turns his phone to vibration mode and makes sure that Professor Kent is so entertained by her own baseball-related story that she won’t notice him checking the message.

Enjoying your date?

With a grimace, he taps out a reply, wishing for once that he’d use emoticons because he’s sure there are a whole bunch of very expressive ones he could use to illustrate his suffering.

Tremendously, thanks for asking. I think having all my teeth pulled out without anesthesia would be preferable.

He keeps the phone on his thigh instead of sliding it back into the pocket, hoping against hope that Thalia didn’t just want to check in on him but will reply.

It’s getting rather warm in the place, which is full of enthusiastic guests and the mouth-watering smells of Greek cuisine. But he doesn’t want to take off his suit jacket. It’s his armor, protecting him from unnecessary ogling and offering at least a bit of reassurance. Joanna has already eyed him like a vulture about to pick the meat off his bones; he doesn’t need to encourage her by chucking the jacket. Thalia is never good at hiding whenever she’s running her eyes all over him, but there’s a world of difference between her appreciate gaze that makes him all hot and bothered and between this…this…leering.

Stop it right here, Tom, he scolds himself. He’s making matters worse. Dammit, he should be banishing Thalia from his thoughts. Tonight of all nights is the worst time to long for her. And he shouldn’t be comparing apples with pears.

Just when he leans forward with his chin on his hand, tuning in to Joanna’s monologue – Wait a minute, she’s talking about cleaning alcohol stains from expensive dresses? How did they get to that topic? – he feels his phone vibrate on his thigh. Tom glances down and reads.

I didn’t need that visual. 😉 Surely it can’t be so bad. Man up and woo the lady with your irresistible charms, Professor Hiddleston.

He suppresses a chuckle. Her tone is odd today, and he can’t put his finger on her mood. Stretching his pained smile wider, he flicks his gaze down to type a reply.

You know very well that I’m all man. But if you need a re-demonstration, I’m more than ready to comply.

He feels his lips curl in a grin, but his fingers hover over the send button. So far, they’ve only messaged each other sparingly, keeping it either project-related or organizing their clandestine meetings. Is this too far? And why the hell does he tease her when he should be focusing on his date?

Tom hits send and looks up in time to catch Professor Kent staring at him expectantly.

Flustered, he takes his glasses off and stuffs them in a pocket.

“I’m sorry, Joanna, how terribly rude of me. I think I’ve lost you there for a bit.” He gestures to the phone, cringing inwardly. “My sister. From England.”

She raises her needle-thin eyebrows. “Oh, how adorable. So, you’re a family man?”

Before he can try to get a word in – and he honest to god has no wish to share family stuff with her – she bulldozes ahead. “I keep thinking we’re much too young to think about all the settling down and founding a family stuff, don’t ya agree? We’re still enjoying life and all it has to offer, why tie ourselves down with babies and added responsibilities?”

Tom blinks and gets a “yes, if you say so, sure” in sideways before she rambles on.

With an internal groan, he sits back again and gives up all pretense of listening. The ironic thing is that she’d make a good ‘partner’ for him as it’s obvious she doesn’t want anything serious, finds him attractive and is too interested in her own life to get suspicious of anything he might be doing. That’s the theory, but reality looks a lot different. There’s no way he could ever see himself dating her, whether it would help or not.

His phone bounces a little on the table, and he snatches it up to read Thalia’s message.

You are so NOT texting me teases like that while you’re staring at Professor Kent’s cleavage. Behave.

There’s no smiley this time, and Tom finds himself wondering again what mood she’s in. Is this a serious reproach, and deservedly so? Or is she teasing him back?

Only one way to find out… He types surreptitiously, nodding at whatever Joanna is now saying about sports cars.

If you think that’s a tease, you’ve got another thought coming. And for your information, Miss Bareo, the only cleavage I am mentally ogling is yours. In fact, I’d love nothing more than to bury my head in it now. I shaved before my date, so I’d be all smooth and cool against your warm, full globes. I’d hold them ever so softly, not giving you the fondling you crave, and then I’d run my tongue all over them, avoiding the hard peaks that are begging for my attention.

Tom presses send and sits up straighter. He needs to get this dinner over with, preferably without making a fool of himself.

When the waiter brings their food and there’s a momentary lull in conversation, he puts on his most charming smile. Filling their glasses with wine, he asks, “So, tell me, Joanna, have you ever been to England?”

He’ll keep her talking about herself. That should do the trick.

“God, no, England is way too plain, old and snobby for me. Monaco, though, now that would be grand, to mingle with the high society and…” comes her reply, and he realizes again how much her shrill voice grates on his nerves. He’s always been sensitive to voices, maybe because of all the book readings and plays he’s been to. And Thalia’s voice has him enthralled. That sexy Spanish accent, the passionate lilt to it. Her husky undertone which gets more noticeable the more aroused she becomes.

Shit, maybe it’s not such a good idea to distract himself with thoughts of her moaning his name when she’s writhing in his arms.

Shifting against the tightening in his pants, Tom devotes all attention to his food and studiously ignores his phone even when it vibrates dully on the table cloth.

They make it through the main course without any trouble, although he is seriously considering splashing wine all over his suit just so he has a reason to leave early. Not only is Professor Kent still droning on about a hundred different things a minute, he can also feel her play footsie with him under the table.

Jesus, he shouldn’t have gone on this date.

On the pretense of dropping and picking up his napkin, Tom scoots his chair back a little and sits so he’s out of her high-heeled reach.

He tops up her wine and debates whether to accidentally brush the glass so the wine hits her instead. Wasn’t she going on about how she’s an expert at removing alcohol stains? But then he thinks of having to be all gentlemanly and pat her body down with napkins, and he ditches the idea.

With an apologetic smile that is totally lost on the woman, he checks his messages.

There are only two words. Not fair.

Damn, what’s this all about? He’s at a loss how to answer. Is this her way of refusing to be teased? Or is she turned on and too shy to urge him on?

Running a hand through his hair, Tom asks Joanna whether she wants any dessert, and she orders a fruit salad. Ugh, as if she needed another minus point on the ever-growing list in his mind. What the hell is he doing here sitting with a stick-thin tactless excuse for a woman who thinks she needs to count calories to keep up her appeal when he could and should be spoiling Thalia with some sinfully tasty sweet treats?

As if she’s read his thoughts, another message appears.

I hope you’re not feeding her dessert.

Tom’s fingers fly over the keys, typing his answer before he can think about it.

Fuck no.

He flinches and drinks more water. It doesn’t take more than a moment for her reply to appear.

Language, Professor.

He hurriedly sends another message.

By now, I’d be willing to feed her anything to make her shut up. I’ve never met a woman in my life who yaps on and on like this. I swear my ears are ringing. But that aside, I won’t be feeding her anything. There’s only one woman I want to feed – with food and with quite some other things – and that’s you.

While typing, it dawns on him how pathetically, dangerously true that is. He’s addicted to Thalia, so much so that he’s got no room left inside him for the politeness he’s usually so proud of. He knows he’s being a dick, texting her on his date, but he can’t bring himself to care.

In between dainty nibbles on fruit pieces she clearly doesn’t enjoy, Joanna suddenly changes track and asks him personal questions.

Using his best British behavior, he dodges them all and offers half-answers that have her narrowing her heavily painted eyes.

“But enough about me,” he insists when his phone vibrates, “why don’t you tell me more about why you chose to become a college professor?”

That effectively sends her off on another self-centered discourse so he can glance at the screen.

If I can be such a good girl for you all the time, sir, you can be good too. Keep that chiseled chin up.

Tom frowns at the sentences. Her tone is kind of bossy, but then she’s mentioned the word that always triggers his darker side, and he’s pretty sure it’s deliberate.

With a sigh, he pockets his phone and lives through the rest of the ordeal silently. Not even the amazing dessert he’s chosen – Greek yogurt with honey, walnuts, vanilla and something else that’s delicious – can lighten his mood.

Nearly an hour later, Tom finally ditches the subtle and seriously unsuccessful hints that they should leave and outright tells her that he should get going because he has an early morning class.

When she rises from her chair and he gallantly helps her into her coat, she leans into him, and her wine-breath wafts into his face.

“What a lovely evening we had. Now how about proving to me that you’re indeed a typical English gentleman and making sure that I’ll reach home safely?”

Her fingers crawl up his jacket lapels and he has the irrational wish he knew how to disapparate at will.

“But of course, Joanna,” he says in his best British voice, jaw clenched.

Once they’re outside the restaurant, he realizes that she’s walked here and apparently lives close. And it’s more than plain to see she’s had a glass or two too much of wine, because she’s swaying dangerously on her killer heels.

With a long-suffering sigh, Tom offers her his arm and escorts her home.

Oddly enough, something has made her go quiet, so they spend nearly ten minutes navigating the pavement in awkward silence.

Tom shoves his free hand in his pocket against the winter cold, toying with his phone and wondering what Thalia may be doing at the moment. What does she think about this whole dating farce? Will she do the same soon, and let him know about it like he did?

His gut clenches of the thought of her with another man. Worse still, it would be a bumbling, fumbling boy and nothing like the real man she needs.

A gust of cold wind makes him even more miserable. It will be Christmas break soon, and he isn’t particularly looking forward to it. Thalia will visit her family in Chicago, and most of his colleagues will be on leave too. And he? Something holds him back from traveling to England for a week or two, and he can’t really pinpoint what.

Maybe he’ll barricade himself in the library and read until he’s forgotten all about the world. It’s worked wonders for him before, both during childhood and much later. Though he’s usually spent Christmas with his family back home.

With a jolt, he realizes he hasn’t bought Thalia anything for Christmas when he picked out cards and little souvenirs to send to England.

Damn, how could he forget that?

Another thought brings him up short, which makes Professor Kent stumble and grab onto him with both hands. Tom lets her hang onto him, quickening his long strides so he doesn’t prolong the agony of being with her.

Would Thalia even accept a present from him or would it be out of line? He desperately wants to gift her something simple yet meaningful. A book to emphasize their shared love for literature? Another of those girlish, vividly colored, endlessly long scarves she wraps around herself these days, which always make him itch to grab her by the dangly ends and reel her in for a kiss? A naughty toy to explore another nuance of their relationship and make her discover more thrilling novelties?

He’s pulled out of his thoughts roughly when Joanna digs her long, red nails into his forearm.

“That’s me, right over there with the lovely pink curtains,” she says with a slight slur, pointing across the half-empty street.

Tom swallows, feeling claustrophobic with her pressed so close. She turns and dances her fingers up his jacket lapel again, and he has a devil of a time of keeping his expression civil. He’s beyond the point of fake smiles by now, but he sure hopes his feelings don’t show on his face.

“Such a gentleman,” she says, followed by a high-pitched giggle. “How ‘bout bein’ even more gentlemanly and accompanying me in for a nightcap?”

Revulsion making his skin crawl, Tom takes a hasty step back and extricates herself from her surprisingly strong hold.

“Erm… I think I’ll pass on that, Joanna, uh… thanks.” He fumbles for something nice to say when her redder than red lips begin to droop and her thinner than thin eyebrows pucker.

“I’ve had a nice time tonight, thank you.” Liar, liar, pants on fire. Grasping onto his last ounce of reserve, he forges on. “But I don’t think I should be joining you now. We’ve barely got to know each other, and…” He breaks off and gives himself the millionth mental kick.

For a moment, Joanna simply glares at him. With a “right” that is tight-lipped and glacially cold compared to her previous sugary tone, she turns and wobbles across the street. Halfway up the short flight of stairs, she comes to a teetering halt and turns to look over her shoulder at him.

“Ya know, we would have gotten to know each other a lot better if you hadn’t spent so much time looking at your fucking phone.”

With that, she’s up the stairs and inside the building before he can pick his jaw off the ground.

“Serves you right, Hiddleston, you pompous, pretentious arse,” Tom mutters to himself and sighs.

He definitely isn’t dating material. This fiasco has proven it once and for all. And it’s proven something else he’s begun to suspect… Thalia makes him a better man, in a way. He can not only let down his guard and be himself around her, but he’s also much nicer than people here have probably come to expect it from him.

Shoving his hands into his pockets, he turns and begins the walk back to the bus halt, as he’s left his car at home tonight.

No more pretend dates for him, no thanks.

He tries to summon a Shakespearean quote to calm his frazzled nerves, but all he can think about is Thalia, home alone in her own bed, as he dials her number.

Click here to read Chapter 10, Rescue Mission

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

Dinner for Two

et ch 8 dinner for two april 2 2017.jpg

Chapter 8 – Dinner for Two

Educating Thalia

a collaboration by @devikafernando and @avenger-nerd-mom

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

Word count 5336

Warnings: Language, Adult Situations, food porn, images of Tom dancing, NSFW, masturbation, nipple play, discussion of consent and BDSM

summary:  Tom continues pampering Thalia after the bath, pulling out all the stops. Dinner and dancing lead to intimate talks and another sexual awakening for Thalia.

Click here for the main page for Educating Thalia

For auditory inspiration, listen to Vente Pa’ Ca by Ricky Martin

Thalia executes a mock salute at Tom’s insistence that she wear only her lingerie to dinner, which makes him lift a brow. She stifles a giggle, and her embarrassment is adorable. He takes her panties and kneels on the rug, tapping her leg.

She watches with unveiled interest as he slides her underwear up after she’s stepped in, dressing her with the same gentle firmness and erotic undercurrent with which he usually undresses her. He places butterfly kisses all over her thick thighs and then one right on her now covered center, making her suck in a breath. Then he grabs her bra and moves her this way and that to put it on, licking his lips at the way the cloth pushes her luscious breasts up so the globes are practically begging for attention. He rubs his cheek over them, nuzzling the place where he could happily spend a small lifetime.

A resolute knock at the room door makes them jump apart like frightened horses.

“Room service.”

Tom holds up a finger, grinning widely at the thought of food and at the face she’s likely to make when she sees all the delicacies he’s ordered.

“Stay right here, darling. I’ll be back in a jiffy.”

In record speed, he pulls his trousers back on and quickly shrugs his white dress shirt on over his still damp skin. The fit is snug, but at least he’s covered. He hurries off towards the door after closing the bathroom door behind him.

With a skip in his step, he lets the trolley-wielding waiter in to arrange all the dishes on the coffee table.

“Thank you ever so much.” With a smile and a generous tip, Tom sends the efficient man away and surveys his feast.

He walks to the bathroom and opens the door, bowing with a flourish and sweeping his hand for her to pass.

“Milady, dinner is served,” he says in a nasal, deferential tone, which causes another fit of giggles.

“I don’t feel very ladylike in this,” she protests, gesturing to her set of bra and panties and eyeing the white fluffy bathrobe on the back of the door longingly.

Tom entwines his fingers with hers and pulls her to the table.

“Nonsense, love, you’re downright regal with that scrumptious body. Now give me that defiant lift of your chin that you’re so good at, and I’ll be your fawning servant all throughout dinner.”

Thalia shakes her head, but he can see her smile, and there’s a gleam in her eyes that makes her even more beautiful to him.

She stops mid-step when she’s close enough to see the table, her free hand rising to her gaping mouth.

“Oh my god, Tom, did you order the whole buffet or something?”

With a sheepish grin, he pulls her on. “I might have, in a way. I wasn’t sure what you’d like and I wanted it to be a real treat, so I had them bring a bit of basically everything on the menu.”

Pulling her hand out of his grip, she fixes him in a serious stare.

“Honestly, you shouldn’t have done that. It must be costing you a fortune. And you’ve already paid for the room, and…”

Tom steps up and places his long fingers over her mouth, silencing her protest.

“I’ll have none of that talk, Miss Bareo,” he says, using the stern, deep voice that makes her comply most of the time.

“What kind of a cheapskate would I be if I gave you a half-boiled date?” He narrows his eyes at her when her lips open against his palm.  “Not. A. Word. I’m perfectly capable of spending a bit of money on the woman who drives me crazy, and I won’t have you ruin my moment. I promised you some pampering, and this dinner is part of it. If you mention money one more time, I swear I’ll make good on that threat and give you a real spanking.”

He leans even closer, watching her pupils dilate in a mix of fear and arousal. “Or I might just tie your hands behind your back with my tie and have my merry way with you.”

Her breath whooshes out, warm against his hand. He pulls it away and gives her a devilish smirk.

“Now, are we having dinner or not? You’ll need all the sustenance you can get, believe me.”

Flushing beet-red and mumbling something in barely audible Spanish, Thalia all but flees his presence.

With a chuckle, he watches her ogle the spread of five-star food, ranging from small bites of seafood and cold meats to exotic salads and lovingly arranged cuisine from all over the world.

Sitting in the chair, he motions to the seat opposite him.

Thalia doesn’t have to be asked twice. The sight and smell of the food seems to destroy her last reserve and she tucks in with as much gusto as him.

For the next few minutes, she eats heartily, allowing him to feed her with a tasty morsel off and on. She’s making all those delighted noises again that travel straight to his groin, so Tom slows down a little and begins asking her questions about her life in Chicago and family in Puerto Rico. Once she warms to the topic, she’s unstoppable. Gesticulating with her free hand, she shares insights into her past that he’ll treasure forever.

He realizes he’s entirely too used to the sound of his own voice. Whenever he’s not lecturing, he’s discussing something or other with the people around him. It’s oddly freeing to do the listening for once, especially as Thalia has such a wealth of interesting knowledge to share. He’s torn between wanting to close his eyes and imagine what she’s conjuring, picturing her as a young girl full of spunk, much more carefree than now, and between wanting to stare at her so he won’t miss a thing.

He’s half-forgotten to eat because he’s noticed something fascinating: The more she immerses herself in her stories, the more pronounced her Latina accents becomes. It’s always there when she speaks, in the way she draws out vowels sometimes or will roll an r when she’s emotional, but being in her company regularly has sort of desensitized his ears to it. Right now, she slips into the lilting cadence and rapid rhythm of it as if diving underwater. It’s so sexy it should be illegal, and part of him has the weird urge to eavesdrop on her having a Spanish conversation with someone.

Before they know it, they have devoured most of the delicacies and polished off another glass of wine each.

Tom sits back with an exaggerated groan and pats his belly.

“I’m so full I’m going to burst.”

Thalia reaches over automatically, her fingers gliding over the hard ridges and indents of his abs.

“Liar. I can’t detect any bulging stomach at all.”

Delighted that she’s touching him – which happens much too rarely yet for his liking – he captures her hand in his. Slowly, he pushes it lower so her fingers graze over his pants.

“That’s because the bulge you’re looking for is quite a bit lower down,” he murmurs, one brow quirked suggestively.

There it is again, her lovely, freckle-speckled blush. But she doesn’t draw her hand away. When he places it over his cock which is half erect from listening to her talking so sexily, she strokes him lightly through the material.

Tom hums in appreciation and pulls her in for a kiss, tasting a myriad of food on her tongue when it tangles with his.

He leans back, shifting so that her fingers aren’t touching him so intimately anymore. Making a mental note to himself to encourage her to touch, explore and have her fill of him some time soon, he tries to keep his cool because they haven’t even made it to dessert yet.

“You know, I’m surprised you haven’t criticized me for another humongous dating mistake I’ve made,” he teases, mischief dancing in his blue eyes.

She frowns. “What mistake?”

He feigns shock, happy when she laughs at his scandalous expression.

“Why, what’s a date without dancing?” he asks, leaping from his chair and tugging her up with him.

“Dancing?” She looks at him as though he’s suddenly grown horns.

“Here? Now? But…but…” she splutters, “We don’t even have music, and…”

Tom holds up a finger. He leaves her standing there, watching him in a daze as he flits around the room and grabs his iPhone. Within a minute, Latin music is playing. Thalia’s eyes widen even more as the first words of Ricky Martin’s Vente Pa’ Ca can be heard. She shakes her head at him, a slow grin spreading.
He clicks his finger and shimmies to the almost hypnotic beat, advancing towards her with his hands outstretched.

“Come on, darling, dance with me.” Searching for the half-forgotten words of Spanish from his high-school days, he coaxes her with “baila conmigo” in a low, inviting tone that promises much more than just a dance.

“You’re unbelievable,” he hears her say more to herself than him, but her feet are already carrying her closer.
“I’d never have guessed the prim and proper British professor listens to music like this,” she confesses, and he throws his head back to laugh.

“What, are you doubting my dancing skills? It’s all in the hips, darling. Hips don’t lie.”

Tom grasps her hands and pulls her closer, moving to the beat and grinding his hips against her to prove his point.

The next song is a bit slower, so he shifts to embrace her and hold her close, one hand on the small of her back, the other holding hers. They sway and gyrate, and twice he takes command to make her twirl on his arm. His hand moves lower until he can dip his fingers beneath her panties and fondle her ass while he presses closer and feels her full tits strain against him.

At the end of the third song, he dips her low and leans over her to kiss her.

The kiss goes on and on, and they both resurface breathless.

Taking a step back although he doesn’t want to break their connection, Tom kisses the top of her head.

“Ready for dessert yet?”

She nods, her breath coming out in ragged pants that fuel his desire. God, it’s becoming increasingly difficult to control himself around her. It’s like his body needs to have her, any and every way he can, all the time. But he doesn’t want to overwhelm her.

Pampering and seducing, Hiddleston, not shagging like rabbits, he reminds himself.

Grabbing the tray laden with decadent dessert, he walks over to the king-size bed. He places the tray down carefully, plonks himself down across from it with crossed legs, and crooks a finger at Thalia.

“Come over here, love, let your man feed you some treats that are almost as sweet and sinful as you taste when you come all over his tongue.”

He can see her shiver when she joins him on the bed. After some consideration, he picks out a tiny fruit tart and holds it out.

The sight of her mouth closing on the berries and cream is something he won’t forget soon, as is her low moan of appreciation.

“Did you know that the strawberry has been considered a potent aphrodisiac ever since the times of Ancient Rome?” he asks, licking his fingertips and choosing a tiny glass with caramel pudding next.

“I did, actually.” She grins at him, smugly lifting her eyebrows.

Tom grins back. “Why am I not surprised?” In a more serious tone, he adds, “It’s such a huge turn on how smart you are. Don’t let anyone ever dumb you down because they’re scared of your wit or jealous of your intelligence. If a man can’t handle the sharpness of your brain, then he isn’t worth the softness of your body.”

Thalia blinks at him, and something glitters in her eyes. “You say the loveliest things,” she whispers.

“And I mean them.”

They stare at each other for a moment. To lighten the mood, Tom dips a long finger into the creamy pudding and holds it in front of her face.

He doesn’t even have to prompt her; she darts out her tongue to lick the sweet treat from his digit, completely surprising him when she adds a none too gentle bite at the end.

“That’s my girl,” he praises her softly, his voice a low purr. He chooses a small triangle of gateau and takes her hand. This time, he dips her finger in it before leaning forward and sucking it into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it.

The rest of the dessert is devoured in the same manner. They share some more sensual kisses in between, but Tom makes sure to keep the pace slow and steady.

Finally, they’re done with dessert. He draws back from a nut-and-chocolate-flavored kiss, nips her chin and licks a wet stripe across her throat.

For now, he wants to keep her in a state of arousal but let it simmer beneath the surface for a little while longer before they act upon it.

He leans back and settles himself on the bed more comfortably, pushing the dinner tray to the side. Thalia takes that as a sign to be more at ease. She crosses her legs, and it pleases him that she’s now a little less self-conscious about only wearing her set of matching bra and panties.

“Tom, can I ask you something?”

“Anything, darling. Ask and ye shall receive.” He smiles, wondering what it is she might want to know.

“Why did you come to America? I heard you had a pretty nice post at Cambridge. You don’t seem to know anyone here… I mean, not that I’d know that, but…there’s no family or anyone here to connect you to the place, is there?”

He shifts, not exactly eager to discuss this. He’s been a family man for most of his life, but once his sisters got settled in their marriages and his friends moved all over the world, they’ve all lost touch a little. And he’s discovered that being a loner isn’t so bad either.

“I left England because I got into a spot of bother at campus,” he admits.

A worried look crosses Thalia’s face, and he realizes how his words could be misinterpreted.

“No, no, no, nothing like that. I didn’t get into trouble with women, if that’s what you think.” He sits up and gesticulates to make her understand, because it’s important to him that she sees how special she is. “I don’t make a habit of having affairs with students, believe me. This with you…it’s one of a kind, and I can’t even really explain it.”

She looks relieved, one hand playing idly with her hair.

With a sigh, he spills the beans. “Actually, there was this pompous duke whose good-for-nothing son was in my class. You know the type, those insufferable spoiled brats who are born with a silver spoon and think the rest of the world was made to bow to their every wish and lick their shiny loafers.”

They share a chuckle, but the memory throws a shadow over his mood. “He was a horrible student, probably because he never bothered with any homework. But his father was none too pleased with the low grades. Instead of telling his offspring to get his bloody ass into gear and study, he stormed into my office, simpering glorified secretary in tow, and demanded that I make an exception and give his boy a better grade.”

Anger tightens his jaw, a muscle ticking. “He had the cheek to offer me money when I refused.”

He glances at Thalia, who’s staring at him wide-eyed. “I may have become a bit loud after that.” Shrugging and grinning sheepishly, he admits, “Lost my temper because his behavior summed up so much of what I think is wrong in this world of class and privilege. To cut the long story short, he had me expelled and my name dragged through mud, though there wasn’t really anything bad to spread about me.”

“Oh, Tom, I’m so sorry, that’s so damn unfair!” Thalia reaches out and squeezes his hand, and it makes him way too happy that she’s taking his side.

With another shrug, he tries to let the past rest. “I guess I got what I deserved. It was foolish of me to think I could change what has been festering away in the English society for centuries.”

He leans away and drinks the rest of his water, licking his lips and noticing her gaze drop to them.

“Anyway, a friend of mine who was working here and held the same position I’m holding now wanted to be transferred to Canada as he’d fallen in love with a Canadian woman. Remember Professor Harelson? He suggested I should leave all the fuss behind and start anew. I was a bit worried they wouldn’t accept me, but the Dean had a hearty laugh at the story and urged me to accept. So…here I am.”

He spread his arms wide, and they smiled at each other.

“I love that about you Americans,” he added. “You’re not strung up on any of that hoity-toity stuff. Although I have to say I’ll never get over the way you lot are butchering the English language and haven’t got the faintest idea about the art of making a cup of tea.”

Thalia laughed and rolled her eyes. She playfully punched his arm. “Oh my god, you’re such a snob. Next you’ll be expecting me to curtsy and bless everyone who crosses my path after saying sorry for at least three things I didn’t even do.”

Tom snatches her hand and brings it to his mouth, scraping his teeth across her knuckles and then her palm.

“If you roll your eyes at me one more time, young lady, you’ll get a real spanking, I warn you.”

She yanks her fingers out of his grip. Despite her blush, he can sense her grow worried again. She gnaws on her lower lip, making him itch to do the same before placing love bites all over her delectable body.

“Darling, what’s the matter? You can always tell me if something bothers you.”

She lowers her gaze, one finger tracing invisible patterns on the sheet. Her fidgeting has him intrigued and waiting with bated breath to know what she has to say.

“Are you… do you… I mean, um… Are you one of those men?”

He quirks a brow at her and places his hand on hers to still the nervous movement. “One of which type of men, darling? There are so many of us,” he laughs, trying to put her at ease. “Thalia, talk to me, I’ve told you how important it is for what we’re sharing.”

After drawing in a fortifying breath, she nervously forces the words out in a rush. “Are you into the whole BDSM thing? One of those men who need to dominate women and cause them pain to get it off?”

The slight quiver of fear in her voice unsettles him, but he also has a hell of a time keeping a straight face because it all strikes him as so funny too.

He lifts her chin with his free hand until she meets his gaze.

“Have I shown any trouble with getting it off so far?”

She blushes a deeper shade of crimson and shakes her head.

“And did I hurt you when we were together?”

“No.” This time, she looks surer of herself.

“There’s your answer then.”

Tom leans in for a slow and heated kiss, making love to her mouth until tension has left her body and she moans for more.

“I do like being in control,” he clarifies softly. “But no, I’m not ‘into the whole BDSM thing’, as you so nicely put it. I tried it out once though.”

It’s his turn to blush and break eye contact, but he needs her to hear this. “It was…an interesting experience, let’s say it like that. An eye opener. I tried out both, being a dom and being a sub. And neither was really my cup of tea.”

He looks at her again, noticing her surprise. “While I do enjoy some milder aspects of it, I will never do anything to cause you pain. And I’ll never force you to do anything you don’t want, though I might test your limits a bit off and on. Are you okay with that?”

“Yes,” she says immediately, her voice husky as if the thought arouses her more.

He wants her, so fiercely he’s burning up from the inside. But he needs to make something clear first.

“Thalia, what you said about BDSM…”

She notices his serious tone and starts fidgeting again. “Yes?”

“It may seem like that because of a certain bestselling book and the media, but BDSM isn’t about pain. And it certainly isn’t about getting off on someone else feeling uncomfortable. Quite the opposite, actually.”

Confusion knits her brows. “What do you mean? All that hitting and tying someone up and denying them pleasure…”

With a sigh that shows his frustration with himself and general misconceptions more than with her, Tom runs a hand through his hair.

“It’s…complicated. Ultimately, a dom may challenge his sub and dare her to try out new experiences or even test her pain threshold, but at the core of it is his wish to give her unimaginable pleasure. And a true dom will always respect his sub’s wishes. If she says no, then that means no.”

He wonders how he can really get through to her. She’s listening intently, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth.

“Coercion isn’t part of it, Thalia. Whatever is done when two people play a game, whether it’s tame roleplaying or hardcore BDSM, is done on mutual agreement. And a real dom will always take care of his sub afterwards.”

He lifts her chin to look into her eyes. “Do you understand what I mean?”

“I…I think I do, yes. It’s fascinating in a way, but it’s always also kind of scared me,” she admits.

Giving her a tender smile, he says, “Yes, it can be a bit overwhelming, especially if you’re in the wrong hands or simply rely on what the public portrays wrongly.”

Leaning forward, he adds in an urgent, low tone, “This is why I have asked you before to voice your consent, to say ‘yes’ instead of nodding. I want you to know what will happen, even if you might not have experienced it before and cannot truly ‘know’ in the sense of the word. And I promise, I’m never going to do anything that would hurt you or that you do not agree to.”

She swallows, the frown slowly easing. “O-okay. Thank you for explaining it to me, Professor. You’re a good teacher.” Her lids flutter half-closed as she gives him a shy but alluring look from beneath them. “I think I enjoy handing over control to you when we…when we are together.”

Tom can’t help himself, he needs to steal another kiss. He lowers his hand to unsnap her bra, and gropes and caresses her plump globes. His thumb brushes over her hardening nipples, eliciting soft whimpers. His mouth follows the path of his fingers, making her quiver.

“A tiny bit of pain can work wonders, you know,” he murmurs against her skin before clamping his teeth around one beaded tip and tugging once.

“Unhhh…”

Thalia arches into him, and he chuckles, treating the other nipple to the same mix of pleasure and pain.

“I see you get my point.”

Shifting, he pushes her onto her back and lies down beside her, propping himself up on one arm. His other hand continues to tease her breasts.

“I take it you’ve never tried anything even remotely BDSM?” he asks, already knowing the answer.

She shakes her head, lids fluttering as she struggles to keep her eyes open while he strokes and tweaks expertly. Tom leans in and licks the shell of her ear. He dips his tongue in, making her squeak. When he bites the lobe, the startled sound turns into a drawn-out moan.

“Do you ever pleasure yourself, darling?”

Her embarrassed giggle morphs into a whimper when he bites down at the sensitive spot where her neck meets her shoulder, soothing his tongue over it repeatedly.

“Ye-esss.”

“Good girl. Do you have any toys?”

He feels her freeze against him. One hand comes up to shield her flushed face, but he moves it away.

“No hiding, Thalia,” he scolds her gently. “You never have to be embarrassed with me, do you understand?”

Her voice is breathy when she finally replies. “Yes. I… I have a vibrator. B-but I don’t use it often.”

Fuck, thinking of her with her toy is going to be enough to get him through his lonely nights. He’d give a fortune to see her like that. Will she maybe even let him use it on her in the future?

Tom doesn’t hold back his groan. Her confession has his thoughts running wild and he wants her to see how desirable she is to him. He continues to lavish attention on her body, kissing a nipple and sucking it into his mouth. He pauses and looks up at her beneath hooded lids.

“Do you ever think of me when you pleasure yourself?”

Her teeth dig into her lip in that gesture he finds so arousing. She nods once, sucking in a breath when he nips her pebbled bud again.

“God, darling, that’s so hot,” he growls.

Instead of moving lower and giving her what her shifting, bucking hips beg for, he withdraws and stretches back out by her side.

Leaning close but stopping short of her mouth, he whispers roughly, “I want you to do it now. Touch yourself for me. Make yourself come while I watch and listen.”

Thalia whimpers again, but he can see the uncertainty in her dark eyes.

“I’ve never done that before,” she says, “with anyone watching.”

He slicks his tongue over her parted lips. “There’s a first time for everything. And I have a feeling a lot of them are going to be with me. Let me teach you how wonderful sex can be. You deserve it.”

After a passionate kiss to quell her doubts, Tom leans down and removes her panties, planting gentle bites along her legs as he draws them off. He pushes her thighs apart and gives her one long lick that has her curse and writhe.

“Come on, darling,” he coaxes. “Do it to please me. Didn’t you want to be oh so naughty this morning when you taunted me in that outfit? Now’s your chance to let your naughty side out to play.”

Tentatively, she moves a hand to her breast and toys with a chocolate-colored nipple, and it’s enough to make him rock hard.

“That’s my good girl. If it helps, close your eyes and tell yourself it’s me who’s touching you.”

She does just that, and gradually her touches become bolder.

While one hand fondles her breast, the other travels down to her glistening cunt. She runs a finger through her folds, making him ache to do the same. Collecting some of her wetness, she rubs slow circles around her clit, dipping down and up, swirling her fingers faster.

Her moans mix with his.

“There you go, darling. You can’t imagine how beautiful you are like this. Come all over your hand while I watch you being so deliciously naughty.”

When she mewls and slips a finger inside, gyrating her ample hips, Tom can’t resist anymore. He chucks his pants quickly and takes himself into his hand, stroking his cock in sync with her movements. Her eyes fly open at the sound and her moans grow louder. As if hypnotized, her gaze stays on him fisting his length while she brings herself closer and closer to the edge.

“Ah…fuck, you’re so sexy,” he groans, quickening his pace.

Thalia spreads her legs wider and rubs her clit with one hand while using her other hand to finger-fuck herself. It’s all he can do to not spill his seed immediately.

Cursing and grinding his teeth, Tom waits for her to reach her peak first. When she does so with desperate keening, he squeezes harder and faster, leans over and shoots all over her thigh.

Before she has a chance to become shy again or come down from her high, he brushes away one hand and replaces the finger on her clit with his tongue. He inserts a digit into her slick heat alongside hers, and the new sensation of both of them touching her so intimately makes her shout.

Thrashing and gasping his name, she comes a second time, drenching their joined hands.

It takes him a while to catch his breath, and he’s sure the sight of her pleasuring herself and coming so beautifully will be emblazoned on his mind for the rest of his life.

Jesus fucking Christ, how incredibly hot.

Weakly, he drags himself off the bed and staggers into the bathroom to clean up. He returns with a warm washcloth to wipe their come from Thalia’s body and press a few gentle kisses onto her exposed skin.

Silently, he disposes of the wet cloth and climbs back into bed next to her.

“Sleep now, darling.” He moves with her in his arms so he can spoon her and keep her close, and she sighs softly. When he nudges a long leg in between her thighs and slings an arm around her, she grabs his hand and entwines their fingers.

“I could get used to this,” Tom thinks to himself, feeling so blissed out he doesn’t want to move for ages.

“Me too,” comes the soft whisper, and he realizes with a start that he’s said the words out loud.

Shit. Not the wisest thing to do, because they both know this will be difficult. He doesn’t want to ruin the mood, but there’s no way he can just let it hang like this.

“Thalia?”

“Mhm?” comes her sleepy reply.

Tom shifts, which only makes her snuggle closer into his embrace.

“I…I’m not sure how often we can manage an escape like this. We… it’s important for both of us that we don’t get caught, and…”

Dammit, he’s fucking this up royally.

She gives his fingers a squeeze, and her tone is a little more alert when she replies, “I know, Tom. I’m no small child dreaming up fairy tales.”

That hurts. With a sigh, he nuzzles her neck, breathing in the scents of her shampoo and their sexual activity.

“I wish I could give you a fairytale, my warrior princess,” he whispers, and in that moment, he means it with all his heart. But he knows that harsh reality will catch up with them soon enough, so he forces the next words out.

“We should probably, um, see other people off and on, just to throw people off, you know.”

He can feel her tense and automatically brushes his thumb over her hand soothingly.

“See? As in date?” she asks, and he can’t read the emotion lurking in her voice.

Nodding against her hair, he explains reluctantly, “Just a date here and there, so it looks less suspicious when we’re together so much for various fake reasons.”

“Yeah, would probably make sense.”

Tom leans up a little to make out her expression, but she’s half-hidden behind her wild mane of hair and he can only see that she’s closed her eyes.

Deciding to let the matter rest, he briefly disentangles his fingers so he can pull the sheet over their naked bodies.

“Sleep now,” he commands softly again, and after a few moments, her breathing evens out.

Click here for Chapter 9, Dating Fiasco

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