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

It’s Complicated

et 24 Its complicated may 24 2017.png

Chapter 24

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:  6000 IT’S LONG BUT IT WAS NECESSARY- SORRY!

Warnings:  : Language, Adult Situations, stepfamilies, food porn, drinking, NSFW, fingering, exhibitionism, angst, real life discussions

Summary: Thalia enjoys some time out alone with her stepmother, glad she didn’t have to choose between her suitors for Valentine’s Day, but missing them.

Click here for intro to Educating Thalia

Tired from the long day of classes, the drive into the city, and a few errands, Thalia hides her yawn as she sits at the table. The two women pour over the menu.  The older blonde, polished and sophisticated, taps the table with her perfectly manicured nails.  Looking over the top of her reading glasses, she asks the young woman what she plans to order.

“Mmm… I can’t decide,”  Thalia admits.  “It all looks so good, my mouth is watering just reading the descriptions.”  She happily sighs.  “I think the fish with a baked potato and the house salad?  And their garlic bread is to die for!”

“Thalia, that’s a lot of food?  You really shouldn’t be eating all those carbs.  I mean, you look great, but…”  begins the older woman.

Thalia takes a deep breath, steeling herself as she carefully places the menu on the table.  She’s used to her stepmother acting this way, and she knows if they can get through the first hour without killing one another, they’ll end up having a great visit together.

Shaking her head slightly, she purrs.  “Stacey.  I’m never gonna be stick thin, like you.  I know my limitations and if I decide to indulge there’s always the gym tomorrow.  Besides.  I can’t eat too much tonight. Everyone knows tomorrow is half-price chocolate day!”  Smiling sweetly, she pats the woman’s hand.  “Thanks for always worrying about me, but I know my shape. Big and round.  And I’m learning to own it, and appreciate it.  I’m actually really healthy right now, Moms.”

The woman takes the younger woman’s hand and squeezes it.  “You do look great.  Really happy…”

She pauses their conversation as the waiter takes their order, appearing to be miffed they didn’t order the dinner special.  Thalia looks to her right and left and it’s an endless sea of couples with the steak dinner in front of them.

Picking up the conversation where it left off, her stepmother takes a sip of her wine before asking, “Would this have anything to do with the gentleman visitor at Christmas?”

Smiling when the waiter returns with the bread basket, Thalia takes a piece of the bread and smiles up at her mom secretly.  “Maybe, yea, a little.”  Pursing her lips together, she isn’t sure how much to give away.  “He’s… He’s really amazing.  So sweet and caring, and he…” She stops and shakes her head, realizing she’s talking about both men and almost hating how this sentence ends in her mind.  Cuz it’s fuckin’ true of them both, and for the thousandth time, she can’t believe she let this happen… Tearing off a piece of the bread, the warm cheese stretches between the two parts and she dips it in the olive oil before popping it in her mouth, chewing carefully.

“Thalia, spit it out.  What are you not telling me?” The woman prods.

“Fuck, Stacey.  It’s kind of a mess, but it’s also really wonderful.  And I think…” She props her elbow on the table and rubs her fingertips across her brow with exasperation.  “I think he loves me.” She shakes her head and laughs.  Both of them do, and she knows it, and it’s just a fucked up mess she’s created.  “We haven’t said it yet, but I think he loves me.  And not ‘in spite of’ my size, but partly because of it.”  Trying hard to control the grin on her face, she just can’t stop herself.  It is Valentine’s Day afterall…  “He’s really just… something else, ya know?”

Stacey stares in disbelief for a moment and then releases a happy squeal.  “Oh, my God, honey!  That’s so wonderful!  Do you love him back?  Is he cute?  Is he still in school?  Holy shit, I didn’t think you’d spill the goods before the food arrived,” she chuckles.  “It usually takes a pry-bar to get you to open up.  He must really be under your skin.”

Taking a drink of her wine, she tilts her head slightly to the side while dozens of images race through her mind of both Chris and Tom.  Her smile reaches all the way to her eyes and she feels she’s positively glowing in the candlelight.  Candles on the table.  Romance. Damn.  She leans forward and blows it out, the smell of smoke filling the air.  “In the best ways possible,” she hints.

Their salads arrive and Thalia picks off the tomatoes, laying them to the side.  The woman across from her raised her since she was nine and she adores her with all her heart, but she can’t bring herself to fully open up with all her sordid secrets.  Hell, she tries not to think about it herself.  Sometimes, she’s afraid if she opens up to someone, things are bound to topple over and smack her in the face. As if this is all some magical fairytale and as soon as she breathes a word about it, the bubble will burst. She doesn’t want to be judged – least of all in her own head, and she has a pretty good idea she’ll start doing that automatically if she shares the details of her secret little love triangle.

She tries her best to answer the questions without actually confessing anything.  Scoffing, she replies quickly.  “Yes, he is still in school,” grinning at her own little joke.  “Devilishly handsome.  Glasses.”  She tilts her head back, eyes closed and euphoric, and shakes her whole body happily. God, she’s such a nerd.  “He’s got the most adorable accent and he gets so excited about learning new things, he’s like a puppy sometimes, bouncing all over the place.”  In her mind she wonders again how two men so different can actually be so much alike…

“Thalia María Bareo!  You are in love with him!”  Stacey drops her fork and bounces with glee.  “I never thought I’d see the day, but you are head over heels for this guy.  Oh, man!  This is amazing, honey!  I’m so happy.”

Oh, fuck.  She’s right. Her step-mother is always right.  When the hell did that happen?

She quickly downs the rest of her wine and signals the waiter.  “Scotch on the rocks, please.”

She fends off a few more of Stacey’s questions, answering as obliquely as possible.  She doesn’t want to give her stepmother any details she can nail down.  Their conversation dies off as the food arrives.  Thalia turns her focus to her mother and asks the required questions about family and adopts an air of interest as Stacey talks about the convention she is attending in the city.  Her thoughts begin to drift to ‘kill me now, I’d never survive the business world’ when her phone begins to buzz, hopping all over the table.  ‘God Save the Queen’ chimes and Stacey looks confused as to the choice of song.

Wiping her mouth on her napkin, she lays it next to her plate.  “Stacey?  Can I?” She indicates she wants to check her phone and her stepmother frantically waves her approval, mouthing the words ‘is that him?’

“It’s a text.  He can’t hear you.”  She shakes her head at the woman’s flightiness. Thalia unlocks the screen to see a selfie of Tom, presumably laying on his bed, wearing the shirt she gave him and the book she found in an old shop lying on his chest.  The message reads I miss you, darling.  Have fun with your mother. Can we meet for tea and toast in the Commons in the morning?

She runs her fingers over her lips nervously, thinking of the timing and knowing she has to attend a history department meeting at eleven with Chris to take notes about the upcoming exhibit.  Who is she kidding?  She’s juggled them both this long…  Of course, Tom!  Can’t wait to see you SIR.

Good girl.  I can’t wait either.  I have something I wish to ask you.

Thalia’s heart jumps into her throat.  At least with Chris, she can see where his thinking goes.  He sometimes misses the domestic life, and tries to replicate his favorite parts of it with her…

But Tom?  She has no idea where his mind wanders off to sometimes. It’s like he’s truly foreign to her.  Some days it’s so frustrating to be with him because his British demeanor can be cold and seem harsh, when she knows that underneath it all, he’s just a teddy bear that wants to believe in love again, to have someone to love him.  Dear God, please don’t let me hurt him…  She has no clue what he’s thinking; what he might want to ask.  She finds it unnerving.

Finishing her drink, she pushes her plate away, her appetite lost.  Stacey reads her emotions accurately, and asks, “Honey, if you’re so crazy about him, why are you here with me and not with him?  It’s Valentine’s Day?”

Nodding, she turns her hands and examines her nails, smiling absently to the waiter as he carries away her plate.  “It is.  It’s Valentine’s Day and that’s exactly why I couldn’t see him today.  It’s complicated.”

#

Over the loud music and the roar of the revelers, Thalia yells at her stepmother.  “How the hell did you talk me into this?”

“I’m your ride home!  Now shut up and have another shot.  Live a little!”

Stacey turns back to her friends from the convention and Thalia considers calling a cab back to the hotel.  The group of older ladies were enjoying the Anti-Valentine’s Party atmosphere of the night club.  Although most of them were married, that didn’t stop them from flirting, accepting drinks or dancing with the scores of good looking men who stopped by their table.  The party scene had never been Thalia’s style, but she’d danced and was having fun.  However her responsibilities are too great and she’s exhausted from her long hours.  Sliding down from the barstool she reaches across the table to her stepmother to tell her she’s going to leave when a strong arm wraps around her waist.  A familiar scent fills her nose and a heat radiates through  her.  She tries to maintain a straight face.  Reaching around her, the solid brick wall of a man standing behind her slams another shot of the dark amber liquid down on the table.  Rubbing his cock against her curved ass, he growls in her ear, “Another.”

Picking up the tiny glass, she turns to face him.  She can’t hide her smile at the handsome face that floats before her, a sure sight for sore eyes in a sea of strangers.  Shooting it down quickly she hands it back to him with a wink. In her husky timbre she boldly says over the loud raucous crowd, “Four.”

With his head thrown back in laughter she pushes past him to the dance floor.  She can feel his eyes following every move, knowing her high heels add more of a swish to her ass than usual.  Realizing he desires her is so stimulating and builds her confidence. Over her shoulder she sees him visibly panting and trying to discretely adjust the already growing bulge in his pants.

Shaking her head she finds a spot in the middle of the crowded dance floor and begins to sway to the music.   As one thumping song blends into the next, he shimmies up behind her.  His grasp on her is seductive and as she moves the seam of her tight jeans pushes her panties between her aching lips, soaking up her flood.  Reaching over her head and behind them, she drapes her arm around his neck, pulling his head down to rest on her shoulder.  Turning her head she yells in their close space.  “Chris! What the hell are you doing here?”

His hands reach all the way around her and rest on her belly pulling her back to him as they grind to a pulsing Latin beat.

“Stag night,” he yells in her ear.  “Some of my single friends thought they’d prey on heartbroken women.  Looks like they found some at your table.”  He nibbles on her ear and she lets him.  The movements are so sensual it’s like fucking in public.  As the crowd presses around them, his hands tease down her hips squeezing the tops of her thighs.  “Is one of those ladies your stepmom?”

“Shh… Don’t talk.  Keep doing that.”  She wants to lose herself in the music with him.  In public.  Like a goddamn real date on Valentine’s Day.  It’s like Cupid heard her wishes to be with one of her men; she pushes the thought away that maybe it’s meant to be a ‘sign’ that Chris was the one that appeared?

How could she ever hurt Tom?  How could she hurt Chris?  Her head pounds in a beating pulse and for one more night, she doesn’t want to have to come up with an answer.

His hands are rough on her body, tugging and pulling to the beat of the music, unknowingly lifting her from her negative thoughts.   His thick fingers grasp at her flimsy top and with each grope higher up her hips and sides, he lifts the silky red fabric until he can drag his fingers along the waist of her jeans.  Tickling at her belly button, he traces a path to the snap on her jeans.

Feeling her pupils dilate as another rush of wet releases between her legs she turns her face to his.  “What are you doing?   We can’t…” Her words come out as a rush of air, no real sound to them but the fire returned in his eyes lets her know she heard him.

“Look around, no one’s paying attention.  I can finger fuck you right here and no one would know.”

The sea of dancers swells around them and they are hidden in plain sight.  She can’t even see the group of Stacey’s friends and she doesn’t recognize a single face.  The ache in her body is intense.  Looking down she can see her nipples are hard, obviously peaking under the silk shirt, teased from the lace bra brushing against them.  “Aw fuck, Chris.  We can’t…”

Changing dance positions his other arm comes up over her shoulder and snakes over her breasts, pinching one of her peaks. “Fuck you,” she whispers.  “I already ache.”

“Let me make it better,” he offers quietly in return.

She leans back into his body, his cock throbbing and rubbing her ass.  If unclothed, he’d fit right into her.  No wonder he finds her heeled boots so damn sexy, she thinks.  We’re the perfect height.

“Niña, don’t think.”  His hands dip lower into her pants, the fabric relaxing and pulling away, allowing him access.  “You know if you want me to stop, you just have to tell me.  You’re so wet, I’m not even to your sweet pussy yet and I can feel your juices on my hand, our dance moves shifting your clothes, teasing you, spreading the wet.  The lace is soaked, baby girl.  So damn sexy.”

The dancers move and swirl around them, new pairings dividing off and others joining in.  Chris is her constant, pulling her to the edge with just his hands and his voice.  Her heart pounds in her chest.  Her head drops back against his shoulder and he bites her neck as he dips into her well, stroking the lace through her lips.  “Shit,” she moans.  Other party-goers jostle against them and his arm is bumped causing him to push deeper.  Not expecting the force, her ass pushes back against him and a gasp escapes her lips.  He keeps up the pretense of their dance as she melts in his arms.

Pulsating to the beat, Chris holds her tight and fucks her well.  “Thalia? Do you want me to stop?”  With a barely noticeable turn of her head, she breathes heavily against his skin.  “No.  No. I need this.  I need you.”

His hands are magic and she can’t say no.  His long fingers quickly make work of her as he whispers in her ear, encouraging her to let go, to relax.  “Come, come all over my hand and I’ll know it the whole drive home.”  His breath is hot and damp, and the smell of beer as he puffs against her skin seems to add to her own intoxication.  The music builds to a crescendo as she comes at his request, spilling over him and the dew seeping down her pants leg.

Removing his hand slowly, he wipes himself clean on the inside of her jeans, tugging her shirt back into place.  Keeping up their pretense of a dance, Chris holds her tightly so her limp form doesn’t collapse.  “Beautiful, so fucking beautiful.  Your mind, your body, your spirit, Thalia.”

Coming back to earth she can see Stacey’s blonde head bobbing up and down over the top of the other dancers, searching for her. Chris spins her quickly, her back to her mother and claims her with a kiss. “Let me take you home,” he begs.

Tucking her hair back she tries to clear her mind.  “No. We said ‘no Valentine’s Day’. This is pure coincidence; you got lucky I was here.  I’m staying with her at the hotel and I’ll see you at lunch tomorrow.”  She pushes away from his massive chest, ignoring the pounding pain in her head.  “I gotta go.”

“Been a long time since I had a girl run off ‘cause her mother was looking for her,” he teases.

Thalia tugs at his shirt collar, catching a glimpse of his tattoo, one of her favorite quotes.  “Cradle robber,” she jokes, trying to make light of the situation.  What kind of magic spell did he just weave?  Bastard.

Yanking her close for a moment longer, he shakes his head in total disagreement.  “You’re all woman, and you’re mine.”

“Just remember, that makes YOU MINE too, so don’t you be flirting with any of these desperate old hags”

Fleetingly, he touches his fingertips to her lips and she smells the proof of her ownership. Pivoting on her heels to walk away, he smacks her on the ass.

When she reaches her table and gathers her coat, she looks around for him and realizes he’s gone.

#

The women decide it’s only three blocks back to the hotel so the walk in the cold would be easier than finding a cab.  Thalia mentions Uber and most of them look at her like she’s speaking an alien tongue, so she just falls back in the group.

The air is cold against her wet jeans and she fears the smell will be detected in the winter breeze. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” she whispers aloud, rubbing her knuckle across her lips like she does when deep in thought.

Stacey steps in next to her and links arms.  “I’m sorry I couldn’t get out of my meetings today.  I can’t wait to see your new tattoo.  Glad you decided to go ahead and do it, for Amy’s memory.“  The blonde side steps some broken glass on the sidewalk.  “That was a fun night, baby girl!  I always wanna go out like that, but your father wants to sit at home.  I’m glad you came with us!”  She takes the end of Thalia’s pink scarf and wraps it tighter around her neck.  Thalia blanches at the use of her family’s nickname for her, having been so long since she’d actually heard family use it.  She palms her hand over her mouth and her stomach twists.

Baby girl.  Aw, fuck.  What have I done?  Stacey continues to prattle on, but Thalia hears none of it.  All she can think about is how she’s broken her own rule. Where did all her determination go?  She was the one who didn’t want either of them as part of her day, just to be fair to them both. She had wanted to prove to herself she could have fun without them. She shouldn’t have given in so easily, to Chris- letting him claim her like that, out in the open. But damn, the man is irresistible… She’s betrayed herself, dammit. And to top it all off she let him manipulate her thoughts and he fingered her in a goddamn public place where anyone could have seen them.  She feels sick about all the consequences if anyone from campus saw them.

“Hey, I lost ya.”  Stacey takes her room key out of her purse to gain access to the hotel lobby at the late hour.  “You okay?”

The women wait for the buzz of the door to let them in.  They all say their goodnights and head off in their individual directions, some staying by the warm fireplace to warm up and chat longer.

Thalia can feel the fakeness to her smile.  “Fine. Really. I think the evening just caught up to me and I’m dead on my feet.  I need some aspirin and to lie down.”

“Can do that, honey.”  Stacey replies leading them to wait with the group at the bank of elevators.  She leans in conspiratorially.  “Damn, I know you’re in love and all, but that man you were dancing with?  Hell, he was hot sex on a stick!  Yummy!”

“Stacey!”  ‘In love.’ Her stomach lurches at Stacey’s words.  Fuck.  She is.  With both of them, and her wanton public behavior tonight is such an insult to Tom and the privacy of their relationship… Jesus, what the hell am I doing?

“What? Just because I’ve been married to your father for sixteen years doesn’t mean I can’t look and appreciate the male form.  And believe me, he had a nice one.”  Stacey bumps her shoulder and giggles.

Girl stuff.  Thalia was never good at that.  Pulling herself together, she focuses on the now with her stepmother.   She giggles too and plays along.  “Yes, he did.  Solid too.”

“A man built like that?  He’s just right for a girl like you.  He could throw you around like a ragdoll,” Stacey smiles, her eyes bright from her slight inebriation.

“Oh my God.  Hello?  Boundaries.  You’re still my mother, ya know.”  Thalia laughs for real and shakes her head at the absurdity.  She wonders if Stacey will remember this conversation in the morning as she kicks off her heels in the elevator car.

“You need a man,” Stacey warrants, bending over to rub the ball of her foot.  “If men like that in clubs drool all over you, pick one.  And hell, I’ll stop worrying about you and food and your weight.  I’ve never had a man look at me like that before, honey.  Like he couldn’t wait to see you under all those clothes…” Other women from the club chime in their hummed agreement. The blonde tumbles a bit when the elevator stops at their floor. Righting herself she finishes with her audience. “If you can get a man like that one, take him and ride him to the altar and don’t let him go.”

Echoes of “hell yeahs” reach through the doors as they close and the silence to Thalia is deafening as they are alone and quiet for the first time all night.

Her demeanor changes and she sighs bitterly, really hoping her stepmother doesn’t remember her anger in the morning, just her words. “Dammit, Stacey, slow down.  Thank you for finally giving me permission to eat whatever the hell I want, that’s so kind of you…  But grasp your head around this one now: marriage isn’t in my cards.  At least not for a while…  I did not spend all this time and money on an education to give it up for a man and raise his babies.  I’m not ‘riding’ anyone anywhere right now, or for a long time for that matter.”

Her headache is growing worse by the minute and she just wants to get to the room and wash the club off her, the smell of smoke out of her hair.  She’s angry and she knows exactly why and Stacey just happened to say the wrong thing at the wrong time.

“Girl, you’re all grown up,” Stacey says as she slides the plastic card into the lock.  “You don’t need me to tell you what to do.  And I’m so proud of all the things you do… I just don’t want you to be lonely.  Find a good man, not a boy, and know the difference.  Someone who lets you be you and makes you want to be… well, more.

Stepping into the room, Stacey moves to her bed and flops down face first kicking her feet up in the air.  Thalia closes the door and leans against it, banging her head back and closing her eyes.  “Maybe that’s the problem.”

Pushing away from the door the quote from Chris’s tat swirls in her brain.  When you lose touch with your inner stillness you lose touch with yourself.  When you lose touch with yourself, you lose yourself in the world.

Tugging her fingers through her hair, she wonders if she even knows how to be herself without them anymore. It’s like being with them has opened a Pandora’s box, and now she doesn’t know how to close it again. All the new experiences, the self-discoveries. Even though it ties her brain into knots sometimes to deal with the secrecy and onslaught of a dozen different emotions, she wants this, needs this like air.

God, how far gone is she? Will there ever be a point that is too far?

#

When Thalia arrives to the student Commons for her meeting with Tom, she’s ten minutes late and gritting her teeth. She knows how much he values punctuality, but this morning, nothing much has gone her way, traffic was bad leaving the city, and she probably looks as frazzled as her mind is.

He’s sitting at the far corner, a little secluded, alternately fumbling with his glasses and rubbing his lips. Surreptitiously straightening her clothes and hair and wondering for the umpteenth time what he wants to talk about, Thalia walks over.

Her heart gives a guilty little lurch when she sees that he’s ordered her favorite morning treat – coffee and a blueberry bagel with cream cheese.

He looks up and his jaw tightens as he’s watching her approach.

Shit. She’s not sure she can handle a pissed-off Tom this morning, with the mix of emotions churning away in her gut and the almost sleepless night making her grumpy.

“Professor Hiddleston.”

She stops in front of the table, wondering what to say. He taps his watch and lifts an eyebrow, giving her that stern look that’s infuriating and sexy at the same time.

“You’re uncharacteristically late, Ms. Bareo.”

Ugh. No use making excuses. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again, sir.”

His expression softens ever so slightly at the last word and he motions for her to have a seat.

Thalia tosses her bag in an empty seat and sits down, crossing her legs. Tom is wearing one of his hundred nearly identical sweaters today, and the soft burgundy fabric stretches invitingly over his muscles as he folds his arms.

With a swallow, Thalia shifts in her seat. She needs coffee to survive this.

To keep up the pretense, Tom goes through a few project-related things first while they work their way slowly through their breakfast. She keeps having flashbacks of Chris pressed against her on the dance floor, and of the conversation she had with her stepmother.

Why did this have to happen to her? All those years without a real man to catch her attention, and now she has two who couldn’t be more different but mean the world to her.

“Ms. Bareo?”

With a start, she realizes Tom has been waiting for an answer from her. Blushing, she takes a last fortifying sip of coffee.

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes again.

He looks at her with narrowed eyes, but all of a sudden, his glare gives way to concern. Leaning forward, he lowers his tone. “Are you alright, darling? You look a bit out of it, to be frank.”

There it is again, the caring, kind side to him that not many people get to see, although he’s always politeness personified. She nods. “Yeah, I’m okay. Just a bit of a rough night.”

“I hope your stepmother didn’t give you any trouble?”

“No, nothing like that. She and her friends dragged me into a club and we got in late. So I’m a bit hung over, to be honest.  I feel as if I’m over forty and they’re the party-hungry teenagers or something.  They were all laughing and ready to go this morning like it was nothing!”

Tom laughs his characteristic ehehe, but sobers up quickly. Now that the somewhat stern look is gone, she can see that he seems nervous beneath his mask. He keeps adjusting his glasses and pushing the rest of his food around on his plate.

Changing the subject, he asks, “Did you and your stepmother get your tattoos?”

Thalia caresses over the tender spot on her breast carefully. “Yea, I did.  Hurts like hell too.  But when the redness goes away, it’ll be beautiful.  Stacey claimed she couldn’t get out of her meetings, but I think she punked out at the last minute.”

Tom smiles warmly, but his fidgeting hands bely his usual confidence.

Why is he nervous when she’s the one who should be feeling like that? It only makes her even more anxious.

“Didn’t you want to talk to me about something?” she offers quietly, hoping to alleviate his anxiety.

He swallows hard and starts playing with his empty teacup, long fingers handling the delicate porcelain with utmost care. God, what those fingers can do. They’re just as lethal when they’re gentle as when they grab her hard enough to leave bruises. She wonders, if given the chance, would he have done the same at the club – driven her crazy with his nimble fingers, leave her panting and wanting more?

Probably so, and his words would have been filthier.

And she’d have loved every goddamn minute of it too.

Who the hell am I becoming?

She closes her eyes briefly and forces herself to focus.

When he speaks, his words are so low she has to lean forward to hear him.

“Would you be my sort-of date at the Alumni Gala next month?”

The napkin she’s been twisting slides from her fingers to the table.

“What?”

Tom runs a hand back through his hair. “Bloody hell, that came out all wrong. I’m sorry.”

He takes a breath and continues in a surer tone. “You know that my project is going to be honored, and I want you there by my side because you’ve played such an important role in it. Without your research, this wouldn’t have been possible.”

His blue eyes seek out hers, everything about his expression earnest and appealing. She can feel her pulse racing at the thought of accompanying him to the gala. He’ll probably wear a three-piece suit or tux and look way too handsome. But…

“Won’t I stick out like a sore thumb?” she questions, worrying her lip. “All the staff and dignitaries and VIP guests, and then plain, old, plump me.”

He narrows his eyes again, reaching out to her but stopping himself at the last moment and taking a gulp from his water glass instead.

“Nonsense, Thalia. It won’t be the first time in history that a grad student has attended the gala for some very valid reason.”  Looking around the Commons, it’s still rather quiet the morning after the holiday, and she sees now she isn’t the only dragging, hung over person on campus.

His voice drops and her gaze is drawn to his lovely angled face again. “Darling, there’s no way you could ever be ‘plain.’  You’re such a beautiful, charming creature.  Everyone will fall at your feet and want to listen to your musical voice.”

Blushing, she tries to read him and understand his uncertainty.  His gaze softens. “It’s perfectly alright for me to invite you. Nobody will think twice about it…and I’m pretty sure the sight of you in a gorgeous gown will make rational thought impossible for anyone, especially me, anyway.”

A flirtatious spark darkens his eyes, and she feels her resolve melt away.

“Please accept my invitation, oh fair and gracious lady,” Tom adds with a theatrical expression that has her suppress a giggle. “Have mercy on this poor lad who doesn’t want to face the crowd alone. I haven’t got the faintest idea how Americans handle such events.”

Feeling more herself now, she raises a brow at him. “So, you only want me there to save yourself the embarrassment of putting your foot in your British mouth?” she challenges.

Something in his expression shifts from one moment to the other. It’s an art he’s mastered, and it never fails to throw her off balance.

“Oh, I have a whole list of ideas how you could keep this British mouth of mine busy,” he half-growls in a low, deep voice that sends delicious shivers down her spine.

“Tom,” she hisses, “not here.”

She’s had enough with public displays of… lust this week.

A smirk curls his thin lips before he pretends to busy himself with a bite of now cold toast.

“Seriously, though,” he goes on, sending her a pleading puppy-dog look. “I’d love to have you by my side and sing your praises, maybe even steal a few hidden touches. You don’t necessarily have to stick to my side, though I’d love that. And it will look really good for you, academically speaking, that you’ve been invited and received some recognition.”

Thalia leans back in her chair and sighs. “You’re right, of course. As usual.”

He smiles. “So you’ll be my date?”

“I’ll be your guest,” she says, stressing the last word and automatically smiling back.

“Marvelous. Don’t worry too much about it, you’ll fit right in.”

“I doubt that,” she mutters more to herself than to him. Her eyes widen when she realizes something. “Oh my god, I don’t have anything to wear! What sort of gown do you think is expected?”

Tom runs an appreciative gaze over what little of her body is visible, and she feels it like a caress that warms her from the inside.

“I’m sure there are photos or something from previous events to get an idea. Just pick whatever catches your eye, you’re going to look more stunning than all the women there put together, no matter what you wear.”

Blushing furiously, she wants to say something, but Tom holds up a finger.

“And by the way, I’m paying for the dress. No, don’t even think of protesting. You’re doing me a huge favor and honor by accompanying me, and a gown for a gala dinner isn’t going to cost a couple of bucks. I insist.”

“But, but…” she splutters, only to be cut off again when he adds in a low, warning tone, “Are you going to be a good girl and do as I say, or do I need to pick out a dress for you myself?”

Well hell, that doesn’t leave her with much of a choice.

“Damn you, Professor, you aren’t playing fair,” she complains, crossing her arms.

“Stop pouting like this or I’ll have to drag you into the next best room and kiss the pout right off your lips.”

The sexy threat makes her breath hitch.

Damn, he knows just how to push her buttons.

“Yes, sir.”

The look in Tom’s eyes is full of promises.

“Glad we’ve got that settled then.  Choose something to show off your lovely legs.” He gestures to the meal. “Any more coffee or tea?”

Thalia huffs and shakes her head. Ever the gentleman, Tom rises when she does. He bends to retrieve his leather briefcase and uses the move to whisper into her ear.

“I can’t wait to see you bedazzle the crowd, my precious orchid. You’re going to make all the other wallflowers wither away.”

Click here for Chapter 25 Step Up

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

Drinking Games

et 22 Drinking Games may 17 2017.jpg

Educating Thalia

Chapter 22

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: 2892

Warnings:  Language, Adult Situations, fluff, drinking, discussions of sex, designated driver

Summary:  Tom encounters Thalia late at night at the school library but food is the need for the evening.  But as usual with Tom, that leads to something more…

Click here for intro to Educating Thalia

The rain beats against the glass, matching his mood.  Walking down the row of books, he finds the volume he needs and pulls it down from the shelf.  His thoughts roam to a similar night months ago, and taking a chance, he turns to the left.   The vision in front of him lifts his spirits and with a smile and a chuckle, he crosses the dark and empty room.

“I thought I’d find you here, darling.”

Lost deep in her thoughts, her brow is furrowed when she lifts her head. The grin breaks across her face and reaches her eyes, a wide, friendly expression.  She is happy to see him.  “Hey, Tom.”  She pats the side of the couch next to her, with little fear of being discovered on a late Friday night.  He sits down, keeping his distance, though he does hit his leg against her knee before resting his ankle across his thigh.  “Just trying to get a few things finished so I can get some time to relax this weekend.”  Looking at the pile of books at her feet, she scoffs.  “Even if it is just five minutes.”

He looks at her quizzically, “I thought you had a family thing tomorrow, or something?”

She sighs.  “I do; Big Jim, from the bar?  His wife asked me over for an early dinner tomorrow before my shift.  I’ve just been so busy, I haven’t really had a chance to see her except when she stops by the bar.”  Thalia fidgets with the patch on her jeans.  “Do you… Do you want to go with me?”

Her hopeful smile tugs on his heartstrings.  “Oh darling.  I can’t.  Tomorrow is the day we go to New York with the students to the theatre district for their field study.  You planned it, remember?”

Her eyes grow wide.  “Shit, yeah.  I guess I totally have my dates mixed up.”  She looks at her phone screen and laughs.  “Yeah.  Ya know, it’ll be better as soon as I get this paper done for Masterson’s class.  If I pass it, I don’t have to attend class the rest of the term.  And I can sleep in two days a week!”  She playfully claps her hands together in glee.

Tom lays his arm on the back of the couch and plays with her dark curls.  “Are you afraid, dear, you won’t do well?”

“Perfectionist.  You know that.”  Her eyes close and she involuntarily leans towards him.  Whispering she tells, “Damn, you smell good.”

He chuckles quietly.  “You work too hard.  Is it so bad to fail?  There’s learning in failure too, Thalia.”

Her eyes pop open and she shifts in her seat.  “It’s not an option.  You know what it was like for me at Christmas.  If I go back home, I’ll be a teacher, or be a tour guide at a museum, or work with Dad at his shop.  I mean, I don’t mind getting dirty, but changing oil filters and knocking out babies isn’t how I want to live my life.  I want more than that.  I think that’s the one part of me that must come from my mother; wanting adventure and a grand life.  For me, I can’t get that in Chicago.  I want Cairo, Paris, hell, even Honduras looks pretty interesting right now with all the things I’m discovering.”  He tries to hide the scowl on his face from her reference to work with Evans; but at least the few extra hours on campus allows her to cut back late night hours at the bar.  “I want the mud on my boots to be worldly.”

Her passion speaks to him.  He remembers being young, and wanting those things too.  A wanderlust for new experiences and places to see.  “You’ll get those things, darling.  I believe you can make it happen.”

Just then, her stomach rumbles and they both share a laugh.  She pats her belly and whispers, “Shhh.  We’ll eat later.”

“Thalia, have you been here all evening?” Tom scolds, already knowing her answer. “Have you not eaten?”

Sheepishly, she hides behind her book.  He reaches over and pulls it down.  “That’s it.  We’re going to dinner.  Come on.”  He rises to standing and holds his hand out to her.  “I won’t take no for an answer.”

She reaches to him and allows herself to be pulled up.  “Tom, don’t be ridiculous.  I’m not dressed to go any place and-”

“Shush.  Come on.  We’ll go for wings and beer.”  He bends to pick up her books.  “Do you need all these for your work?”

She nods as she throws her pens and notebook in her bag.

“Thalia Bareo, you may be one of the last students on Earth who still loves book research.  Ever heard of a thing called ‘the Internet?’”  Tom teases as he adds two more books from the side table to the large stack in his arms.

“I like the written word, Professor.  The feel of the pages under my fingertips.”  Reaching for the book on the top of his stack, she opens it carefully, waving it under his nose.  “The smell of old books that haven’t been used in ages.”  She holds it to her face, inhaling the scent and cutely sneezing from the dust.  “That’s tangible, real.  It’s served me well, and this close to the end of my graduate work, I’m not changing anything.”

She takes several of the books from his arms and he follows her to the stairs, down to the checkout desk.  “Mrs. Hooperman? I didn’t know you were still on duty tonight.”  Tom greets the clerk brightly, setting the stack of books on the counter and taking the ones from Thalia as well.  “I had two items on reserve and tech was supposed to leave the delivery of my laptop here?”

The older woman eyes the two suspiciously, clacking a few buttons on her keyboard.  “Yes, Mr. Hiddleston.  Let me get those for you.  I’ll be right back.”

As the woman walks away, Thalia turns to Tom. “Wings?  Isn’t that rather beneath your fine dining tastes? Where are we going?”

Mimicking one of her signature moves, he rolls his eyes at her.  “We’re going to take this ridiculous stack of books to your car,” Tom tells as he puts on his winter coat, and helping Thalia into hers, his hands resting momentarily on her waist, “and walk across the street to Too Talls.”

Looking over her shoulder, Thalia turns back to Tom and briefly touches her fingers to his forehead and he momentarily feels burned by her touch.  “Are you crazy?  Do you have a fever?  Do you need to lie down?  That’s a campus bar!  Do you know how many people will be in there tonight?”

The light in the office down the hall flicks off and the clerk heads towards them.  Tom hisses, “I do need to lie down, with you by my side and I’m going to-”

The clerk clears her throat, stepping into their presence.  She makes a clucking sound in the back of her throat, quickly scanning Tom’s reserved materials and handing him a form to sign for the computer.  She smiles brightly at Thalia and the two make small talk, the woman complaining her Friday nights will be lonely once the young girl graduates.  “Thank you, Mrs. Hooperman.  And thank you for the recipe you gave me last week.  I really liked it.  It made perfect frozen meals!”

Gathering the books, Tom sighs.  “Mrs. Hooperman?  Could we borrow a basket for these?  We’ve worked late and I can help get them to her car, but she’ll have to bring them back on her own?”

“Yes, yes.  Good idea.  Let me find one.”  She turns to leave.

“You were saying?”  Thalia smiles.

“None of that now, girl.  Don’t get me worked up.  The math department was having a celebration and their assistants were invited.  We’ll sneak in on their gathering with the pretense we were working on the Gala presentation and needed a break.”

“I hate math,” Thalia shudders.  “Not my strong suit.  I mean, I’m functional, but I don’t get how someone would want to spend their life with numbers.  So boring and strict.  Words, history, those things change; matter.”

Tom chuckles.  “Don’t say that when we get over there, it could start a bar brawl; which I’m sure you could handle quite well, but- ah!  Mrs. Hooperman, perfect.  Thank you so much!”

She helps the two load the books into the box she found and Thalia takes Tom’s laptop and they head out into the night, thankful the rain has stopped.

#

By the time Tom walks into the bar, the place is in full swing. Searching the crowd it takes him a few minutes to spot Thalia standing next to the corner booth in the back, talking to the waitress.  He strides over to the bar, but before he can place an order, someone from the booth calls out to him.  “Hiddleston, old man, join us!” shouts a jovial if slightly intoxicated voice.

Shit.  It’s the guy from the math department whose name always escapes him.  They’ve played tennis before and Tom even attended a dreadfully boring dinner party at his home once, but Tom still can never remember the man’s name.  He’s got his arm up on the seat behind him, and Tom catches the casual way his fingertips drag across the shoulder of the young blonde sitting next to him.

Thalia nods her hello as he joins the group, and they are both invited to join the table.  There’s some shifting of seats and somehow the pair end up at the back of the booth sitting together.  The math professor teases, “Maybe you language buffs can help class this group up a bit.  I’m afraid we’ve taken our fair share of drinks tonight.”  His other arm sweeps out to the array of empty glasses and bottles on the table.

The waitress arrives and hands Thalia her drink, announcing the chicken wings will be up shortly and asking if anyone else would like to order.  Tom orders a cheeseburger and fries with a beer.  The group explains the reason for their celebration- two of the students will be joining the math nerds at NASA after graduation, so the professors wanted to thank them for their dedication.  “And how often do you get to really relax and know your students, right Tom?”

Tom simply nods as the redhead on his left slides a bit closer and begins asking him questions about life in London.  Thalia’s hand briefly scrapes across his thigh before she turns her attention to the conversation going on around her.

Drinks are served and food is shared and the group begins to get louder as the night wears on, finally leading to a drinking game.  Tom seems to have missed the rules of the game, and bows out, claiming designated driver status.  Thalia simply chuckles and raises an eyebrow at him, reaching for the shot placed in front of her.

The game seems to go on forever.  He’s learned more about Thalia than he truly has a right to know.  She’s taken drinks to reply to the most innocent questions, but some of the racier ones as well.  She’s never kissed a girl, but on the next question he learns that she’s fantasized about it.  She’s shoplifted, cheated on a test, and had sex while her parents were at home. The group coerced him to at least participate by drinking his own beer slowly, and the questions flow more freely as everyone begins to lose their inhibitions a bit.  No one seems fazed when the professor from the math department boldly places his hand on the back of the young woman’s neck as the game continues.  It’s as if the team knows of their connection?  Thalia catches his eye and the challenge flashing there quickly has him toss his head back in laughter.

A boy in a ballcap throws it all in by presenting to the table, “Never have I ever had sex with someone I work with….”

From the corner of his eye Tom can see Thalia lick the salt from her wrist as she prepares to down another shot, and he takes a long draw from his bottle of beer on the table.  As he watches cautiously the other student and professor down their drink, and he realizes the man’s arm is no longer behind the girl, but quite obviously in her lap.  Next to him, the redhead  whispers she’d like to know more about working with him next semester in the language department.  Tom shifts uncomfortably, sliding a bit closer to Thalia, and silently pushes his plate of fries to her.  With an innocent smile, she takes one, chewing quickly before slamming another shot in response to the statement ‘Never have I ever had sex in more than five cars.”

“Wait, wait, wait.”  Slurs the redhead.  “Thalia, you’ve been slammin’ ‘em back.  I’m gonna need some clarification.  Go with the last one.  Tell us about how you’ve had sex in more than five cars.”

The rest of the table agrees, hitting the shot glasses on the table and starting a chant, “tell us, tell us, tell us.”

Tom sits back, trying to keep the fire from his eyes.  He’s not liking this game too much, but it has been eye opening.  He struggles not to make eye contact with her, difficult to do as he can feel the heat rising through her body next to him.

She chuckles, resting her elbow on the table and reaching for another buffalo wing from the basket.  She begins to pick it apart and shrugs her shoulders.  “Well you assholes don’t have to act like it’s so unbelievable,” she huffs with a sarcastic smile.  “Not much to tell, but I can actually clear up three things you’ve learned about me.”  The tap of her leg against him lets him know her honesty is for his benefit.  “My dad owns an auto mechanic shop.  When I was in high school, I worked there and had a crush on the other guy that worked with us, about three years older than me.”  From the corner of his eye, he can see the blush rising across her cheeks, as she pauses to chew a bite of the chicken.  Wiping her fingers on a napkin, she continues.  “When Dad would go out on service calls, we would choose the nicest car in the shop and screw around in the back seat.  So there you have it- at work, with a co-worker, 5 or more cars.  Three things about me.”

“I call bullshit,” says the dark haired boy down the table from her.  Tom tenses, wondering what the boy might have to say.  “You’re a fuckin’ ice princess who never puts out.”

Thalia turns to him with a flash in her eyes, which quickly turns sympathetic.  “Aww, Caleb, are you still blaming your limp dick on my fat?”

The table goes wild, high fives, “oohs” and “she burned you!”  The girl next to him says, “Dude, she’s got you pegged!”

“Oh!  There’s a question!”  Someone chimes in.  “Never ever have I been-”

“Whoa!”  Thalia raises her voice, jumping from the bench.  “That’s my cue to leave.  You math department people are too hard core for me.  I’m out.”

She starts pushing the girl next to her and the three people on the outer end of the booth slide out for Thalia to make her exit.

The boy in the baseball cap teases, “What?  Us talking about ‘doing the beast with two backs’ is too much for you?  Thought you loved that Shakespeare shit?”

Thalia laughs, grabbing another chicken wing to go, wobbling for a moment on her feet.

Donaldo, Tom thinks, remembering his name, chimes in. “Hiddleston? She’s your teaching assistant.”  He gives the man a shove on his arm.  “You can’t let her go out into the dark night, half drunk and alone.  Be a gentleman and at least walk her to her car.”

The red head pipes up as Tom begins to slide out of the booth.  “Actually Professor,” her hand squeezing his thigh.  “I’m a little too drunk also.  Think you can give me a ride home?”

Bloody hell.  He sighs.  “Sure, why not?  Who else needs a ride?”  Seeing Thalia starting to walk away, he reaches his hand out to her arm and feels the spark of electricity between them.  He wants to get her alone quickly.  “Ms. Bar- Thalia.  Wait.  I’ll drive you and a few of the others home; you’ve all had a bit much to drink.”

She wobbles again.  “Really, sir,”  she smiles slowly.  “I haven’t had that much to drink.  It’s these damn heels.”

“Uh- huh.  Right.”  He steps closer to her, smelling the alcohol on her breath.  “Just wait.”

Turning back to the table, he sees the party is splitting up and one of the other faculty members from a smaller table nearby is offering to take a group home also.  The two men divide up the students based on where their ‘deliveries’ need to be made and Tom is more than pleased to note the redhead will be in the other car.  As the group exits the pub, he’s fairly sure she’s the one trying to grab his ass.

Click here to read Chapter 23 Ride Home

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

 


Healing Hands

healing hands USE jan 15 2017.jpg

A Chris Evans fan fic

By avenger-nerd-mom

Chris and his girlfriend get caught in an ice storm while on a romantic getaway.  Chris is worried about her health and does everything he can think of to help her feel better.  If he doesn’t Dodger might just attack him

Warnings: Language, Adult Situations, fluff, concern, NSFW, drinking, anal play, daddy kink, dom/domme behaviors, finger fucking, penetration, pull out method, no condoms

Word count: 4212

He sneaks up on her quietly as she sits in front of the fireplace, sweetly whispering to Dodger in her lap.  He cringes when he hears the cough rumble in her chest and she heaves to catch her breath.  He winces at her perceived pain.  “Oh, babe, I’m so sorry.  This isn’t really what I had in mind for our romantic getaway.”

He sits quickly and offers up his apologies.  Dodger lifts his head, looking at his owner, his eyes pleading with him to help her.  “I hear ya, Bud.  There’s no medicine in the place.  I searched every cabinet and drawer.  All I could find was this.”  He holds up the dusty bottle of whiskey and two small jelly jars he found in the kitchen.

Her burst of laughter breaks into coughs and he pats her back.  Her eyes water and she giggles quietly.  “Likely story.  You’ve been wanting to get me drunk from the minute we started dating and I told you I’ve never even had a shot.”

He kisses the tip of her nose, blushing at the truth to her statement.  “Whiskey is on old-time medication, it’ll definitely sooth the pain.”

“Or I’ll be so drunk, I won’t care.”  She laughs, caressing the side of his cheek, scratching at his beard.  “You need a trim.”

Chris shrugs.  “Ah, I gotta shave it off soon enough.  I’m doing the mountain man thing this week, just for you, babe.”  He stretches out his arms to show off the tight Henley and flannel plaid and she leans against his chest.

“I love my man in plaid,” she chokes out and he caresses her hair back over her shoulder and rubs down her spine as another series of coughs wracks through her little body.

He feels just awful. Their time together is always so rushed and sporadic.  She hadn’t been able to get away at the holidays, so they’d compromised with a mid winter getaway to a cabin owned by a friend of his.  He wasn’t expecting an ice storm to hit, followed by a large snow.  The power lines had snapped on their second morning in the cabin, and now on the third night her cold had turned worse.  He’d tried earlier to get the car out, but there was no where to go.  All the shops in the village down the mountain were closed and they were pretty secluded from the outside world.  Fortunately his phone service worked, and he’d been able to inform friends and family they were safe and sound, but he really was concerned for the rattle in her chest and wanted to get her back to civilization as soon as possible.

“Stop thinking.  You’re too loud.  I’m fine,” she wheezes.  “Pour me a shot.  Let’s do this.”

She sits up and rolls her eyes as his look of concern takes on a mischievous grin.

“Go ahead.  Rub your hands together gleefully like the villain in old cartoon about to steal the innocent virtue of the fair maiden.  I know you’re dying to,” she teases.

He throws his head back in a hearty laugh, but stops when her laughter brings on another series of deep coughs.  He shakes his head, “Stop that!”  He rubs her arms and scolds her.  “Don’t laugh at me; it makes you cough.”

“Telling me not to laugh at you is like telling Dodger not to bark at birds in the yard.  I can’t help it.  Your laughter is infectious. It’s one of the things I love about you.”  She dips her head and smiles up at him sweetly.  “It’s one of the first things about you when we met that I was attracted to.”

“Not my charming personality or my bulging muscles?”  He flexes his arm for her and she turns up her nose.

She shakes her head and holds up her jelly glass. “Not too much… No. None of those things.  Those things actually make you a dick sometimes,” she giggles.  “It was watching you at my niece’s party laugh and play with the kids on the swingset for an hour and you never wore out or got tired.  That’s my Chris.  That’s my fantasy and the man I want.  The Hollywood you can go to hell.” She coughs again and smiles wryly.  “But it’s time to get back to work.  You’re getting soft.  Been sitting on your ass too long.”

“Man, you really know how to kick a man, don’t you,” he chuckles.  “Yes, ma’am.  On it.  Back to work ASAP.”  He salutes her before pouring a fair amount of the dark amber liquid into her glass.  “How is it you’ve made it to this point in your life, you were a college sorority girl, and you’ve never been drunk or had a shot before?”

“Smart life choices.”  She taps him on the nose with each word and he smiles.  “Oh my God, this fuckin’ stinks.  It’s like paint thinner.” She complains and screw ups her face.

He smiles at her expression and his heart flutters.  “Don’t smell it.” He pours himself a larger drink.  “Just knock it back.”

She stares at the liquid and swishes it around.  Dodger lifts his head to watch her and he even pulls back from the smell and brushes his paw over his nose.  “Right, bud?  Can you believe Daddy willingly drinks this shit?”

“Fuck, babe.  Don’t call me Daddy unless you mean it,” Chris moans in frustration and adjusts his jeans to prove his point.

She chuckles and does her best to hold in her cough, trying to hide her blush.  “Damn you, I didn’t mean it like that.”  She tosses her head back and her curls cascade down her back as she lifts the glass to her lips and downs it all in one choked gulp.  She sputters and lifts her head upright and cringes at the taste, wiping her mouth on the back of her wrist.  “Fuuuuck, that burns.”

Chris lifts the glass to his lips.  He watches her closely as her eyes follow his movements, and he chugs his shot down quickly.  He laughs as she holds her hand to her chest, still shuddering from the burn of the whiskey.

“That’s awful,” she whispers.  “Why?  Why would you chose to drink that for fun?”

Chris moves closer to her and Dodger growls at him lowly.  “Hey man, she’s my girl too.  Watch it.  I’m not gonna hurt her, relax Bud.”  Dodger bares his teeth and Chris taps him on the nose.  “Enough of that.  You go.”

Dodger nudges her hand and she tugs on his ear gently.  “It’s okay, you’re not in trouble.  Go sleep.”  The protective mutt rises from his spot and stretches slowly, irritating Chris on purpose.  She coughs and chuckles and taps the dog playfully on his hindquarters to get him moving faster.  “Go now,” she commands and he totters away, his back legs stiff from his interrupted nap.

“Damn dog,” he grumbles.  “Likes you more than he likes me.”  Chris adjusts the pillows behind him, and leans back against the couch.  “Are you warm enough?” he asks as he pours two more shots, handing her another.

She shakes her head no, trying to refuse the little glass. Chris doesn’t give her choice. “You’re still coughing.  Tonight it’s not meant to be fun.  It’s to help you get better until we can get to the store or a doctor and get you some medicine.”  He holds the glass to her until she willingly takes it and chokes it back.

“No more.”  She spits out, scrunching up her face again.  She covers her hand over her mouth and breaths in.  “God, it’s on my breath.  It stinks.”

“Hush,” he drinks his glass and gently pulls her to him.  “You complain a lot.”  She rests against his chest and plays with the buttons on his shirt.

She bows her head sheepishly.  “I’m sorry.  I’m kinda ruining our romantic getaway, aren’t it?  You’ve done everything.  All I’ve done is sleep, cough and sneeze.  You’ve been chopping firewood- very sexy to watch from the window, I might add- gathering food we can cook over the fireplace.  Thank god for hotdogs and popcorn,” she giggles. “And I’m glad you carried the mattress down here.  The loft would be too cold.”

She reaches her arm up and pulls another blanket off the couch from behind him and he helps adjust it over the top of them.  He doesn’t want to admit to her that he’s too warm under her body and the blankets and the heat of the blazing fire.  After the blanket is settled, he tugs under her ass and shifts her body higher against his, resting his denim covered cock between her legs.  She’s weightless on top of him and he loves being her big, strong protector.

He wishes she could see what he sees right now.  Under the haze of a slight fever, her eyes warm from the liquid fire she ingested and glints of hazel and green sparkle back at him as she searches his face.  Her lips are plump and ripe for the taking.  And the smell of the whiskey on her breath begs to be savored.  He pulls her close and kisses her tenderly, not wanting to take all her air but needing to share his with her.  Her lips part so she can breath and he continues to caress her bottom lip between his as a breathy moan escapes the back of her throat.

She snakes her hands from between them and wraps one around his neck and slides the other lower, down the row of buttons on his shirt, stopping at the waist of his pants..  His bottom lip resting against hers, he whispers.  “No, you need sleep.  We can play later.”

She whines her complaint and he chuckles, kissing her again.  She moves her hand and grabs his hip, sighing.  “I really am sleepy.”  She kisses him again, sucking in all of his air to her desperate lungs before separating with a smack.  “Thank you for breathing for me,” she chuckles.

“Anytime, sweetheart.” He kisses her forehead before gently pushing her to the side, snuggling her next to his body and adjusting her in the crook of his arm.  “You realize you haven’t coughed in nearly five minutes?”

“Yes, fine, oh wise one.  The whiskey worked.  You were right.  I’ll cross-stitch it on a pillow for you.” The little blonde pokes him in the ribs.  “Don’t get too used to hearing me say that.  But I’ll make you a commemorative keepsake.  I’ll date it and everything.”

“Well, damn.  You’re rambling like a woman who might be a little tipsy.”  He laughs warmly, the shake of his body jiggling both of them.  His foot wiggles from under the blankets.

“Shut up and kick off your socks.  I know you want to,” she laughs, snuggling up into his neck and inhaling deeply.  “You smell so good.  Like cologne, firewood and snow.  Better than a candle,” she mumbles.  “So sleepy…”

Dodger raises his head and gives a happy bark before resting his head on his paws again, curled in front of the hearth.  Chris tips his head to the dog, indicating they both have watch over their girl for the night.  Chris tries not to shift away from her damp breath on his neck but he knows he needs to keep her warm through the night.  He’s worried about her becoming more sick before the morning.

#

Hours later, the wheeze has returned to her lungs and her chest heaves for breath.  He can feel each labored cough as they slowly build again.  The fire has died down, and Dodger is curled up on her other side to keep her warm.  Chris slides out from under her and smiles at the quiet whistle she makes from her congestion.  She would be so embarrassed, but he finds it just  adorable.  She’s always so tough and strong and this vulnerable state is endearing.  She’d probably punch his arm if he told her, so he’ll keep his thoughts to himself.  While covering his feet with his socks, Dodger lifts his head and yawns.  Chris puts his finger to his lips, as if the dog really understands.  The pup lays his head back down over her hip and whimpers quietly.  Chris pats the mutt’s head affectionately, knowing he’s leaving her in good care.

The power is still out.  A quick check of his phone tells him the time, but to conserve the battery he shuts it back down.  Piling on the old army jacket and silly fur hat he found earlier in the day, he heads out to the back porch to bring in more firewood.  He is startled by a doe and her fawn foraging under the tree and stands to watch for a moment before they run off across the valley.   He’s pretty sure he hears coyotes baying in the distance. The air is cold and stings his lungs while he quickly gathers enough wood to last till sunrise.

Returning to the chilled living room, he quietly places the wood in the fire and stokes the flames, Dodger and his love sound asleep.  He makes a stop in the bathroom and changes into comfortable sweatpants before foraging in the kitchen of the small hand crafted cabin.  Taking a water bottle from the cooler he finds her more aspirin.  Nibbling on the chocolate cake they brought from the bakery, he realizes he’s not really in top shape to go back to work.  A few more days of splitting firewood should do the trick.  Through the cold night air seeping through the chinked paneled walls he can hear trees bending and cracking under the pressure of the ice.

Stepping into the living room-

“Sweet Jesus.”  His heart stops at the sight in front of the fireplace.

Her bare bottom is raised up in the air, as she rests on her knees, face down on the mattress, her arms folded over above her head.  At least twelve thoughts- only twelve?- roam through his mind and he thanks God quietly she is faithful about attending her yoga class.  A quick look around the room has Dodger in his kennel, out of sight, and the jelly glasses lined up on the hearth, hers empty and his ready to go. Trying to find his voice and not sound as off balance as she’s thrown him, he murmurs lowly.  “Can I do something to help you?”

“I can’t sleep.  I thought you might be able to wear me out,” she offers, turning her head to him, her voice low and quiet in return.

He kneels on the mattress behind her, his eyes on the prize, willingly given to him.  “Are you sure?”  He asks tenderly, wanting her so badly but knowing she isn’t really physically up to anything zapping what little strength she has left.  His hand caresses gently over her right cheek and her skin rolls under his touch.

Licking her lips, she sticks her tongue seductively between her teeth, before breathily supplying her response.  “Yes, Daddy, make me better.  Use your hands to heal me.”

His own breath catches and he grips her flesh.  He instantly springs to attention turned on by her words, a game they’ve never played before.  He raises his eyebrow to her and she winks back, giggling and hiding her cough.  Closer now to the fire, he sees she’s added their favorite lotions to the pile of her clothes next to the whiskey bottle.  Daddy?  How drunk is she?  “My pet,” he intones, using a new nickname for this little foray into a darker world, “are you sure?”

She rolls her eyes at him and shifts forward on her arms, raising her ass higher.  “We already have a few rules, Daddy.  If I start coughing too much, or can’t handle it, I’ll call ‘recess’ tonight.  And no, I’m not drunk.  Just feeling very warm, from the booze, the fever, the fire. You.  We haven’t been together in weeks, Chris. First we were apart, then my period, and now I’m sick.  I just need it, please?”  She reaches back and squeezes his thigh, one of their signals to continue.

He reaches for the bottle of lotion and pours some in his hands, warming it with friction as he rubs his palms together.  The fire crackles and pops, the dancing flames reflected in the warmth of her eyes.  He takes the poured liquor and savors the taste, hot on his tongue.  He pours another shot for later as a filthy idea she just might like pops in his mind. He smiles and shakes his head as she hiccups quietly.  “Not drunk, you say?”

“Oh, maybe a little buzzed,” she confesses.  “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want this, or that I’m not aware of what’s going on.  I had the forethought to put the dog up, get lotion and condoms.  Give me some credit, man.  Control issues.  You and me both.  If you think I’m not game, stop.  But I know what I want, and right now, I really just want you to finger fuck me.”

He chuckles.  Strong and independent.  Just the way he likes her.  Loves her.  “Why?”

She coughs and he rubs over her back as the sound subsides.  She chokes out a quick breath before telling him what he needs to hear.  “I saw you light up when I was talking about our puppy parenting.”  She moans quietly as his hands run over the curve of her ass and she rolls with his caress.  “I can give up my need for control so you can have your fun, that’s what loving couples do, Chris.  I want to give this to you.  So, tonight, while I’m tipsy, I’ll be your pet and you can be my Daddy.”  She rocks back on her heels and rises to kiss him.  “Play, have fun, babe. I love you.”

He kisses her lips tenderly at first before growing in intensity.  When she’s struggling for breath, he releases his hold of her mouth and gently pushes her back to her resting position.  As her breathing returns to normal, as normal as it’s been the last few days, he continues to rub over her.  She settles in and his hands work magic over her skin.  Work tension and family stresses leave her and they listen as the wind picks up and freezing rain pelts the cabin again.  He murmurs to her, telling her all the things he loves about her.  She moans and whines happily and he loses all track of time.

Taking another shot, he wonders if she’s half asleep.  A slight cough answers his question as he smiles, holding the warm liquor in his mouth.  He bends over her, ripe and ready and pulling her flesh apart, he swallows the heated whiskey before licking his tongue gently across her pretty pink rim.  She gasps in shock, then practically purrs in excitement, while he kisses gently, teasing with his tongue, pushing her tender opening.  She spreads her legs for him and with one hand he wraps around her waist.  He blows warm air across her sweet little hole, reaching under her to slide his fingers between her wet, aching lips.  He sets a slow rhythm, nibbling on the flesh of her rounded ass, grazing her pussy with his fingertips.  Her breathing builds and she coughs a few times, humming her pleasure and fisting at the sheets.

“Please, more,” she whines.

He soaks in her pliancy and teases along the entrance to her cunt.  She’s dripping with desire and he wants her so badly.  “Please, what?” he growls, his hand slapping across her ass.

She chuckles, her eyes watching the fire blaze.  “Daddy, please, I need to feel you inside me; your healing touch.”

He swiftly brushes over the tight bundle of nerves found hidden between her walls and she jumps in his hands.  He bites at her hip and kneads her toned skin. Another swipe through the wet, and he pulls some out to tease around her clit, rolling the swollen button between his fingers.  She whines and rocks back in his hands, grinding against his palm.  Darting forward, he penetrates her with two strong fingers and pushes to her inner depths as she cries out a happy sound.  “Fuck, me Chris,” she pleads.  “I wanna come in your hands.”

“You’re so wet, my pet,” he rolls his eyes at the unintended rhyme.  “It won’t take long will it?  Tell me.”

“No, no it won’t,” she admits.  “I hate playing without you; I need this.  Daddy,” she giggles.

“That’s right, you shouldn’t play without me.  You should save yourself and only come for me,” he commands lowly.

“Then do it; make me come.”  Her body ricochets against his intrusions and her breasts sting against the friction of the mattress.

His fingers scissor through her slick, pounding again and again.  Her cunt tightens around him and as her pleasure rises her vocals echo in the small room.  He leans over her, kissing her back and pulling himself from his sweatpants with a swift, forceful tug, drops of precum rolling down her backside.  As she begins to come she shifts onto her stomach and grinds his hand into the mattress, pushing her clit against the bed.  He falls over her as her body stills and she silently finishes her rolling orgasm, pulsing and pulling his fingers in as far as they’ll reach.  He bites at her shoulder and she turns her head, searching for his mouth.  She lifts up for a kiss as the quaking stops and he covers her mouth, capturing her final sounds of completion.

Her body begins to convulse in shakes and he realizes she’s coughing again, but she requests he doesn’t move.  “I like feeling you on me.  Warm and safe, Daddy.”  She smiles between coughs, before she finally rolls to the side and pushes him off.  “You always make me feel so loved, so protected.”

Her eyes are drawn to his exposed cock, and he shakes his head ‘no.’  “No,” he chuckles, trying to put it away.  “You’re too sick.  You can’t stop coughing.”  He pauses so she can hear herself and he can prove his point. “I’m not gonna ask you to take care of me.”

She reaches for his stiff cock and says, “You’re not asking, and I appreciate that, but I need this too…”

She tugs up quickly on his shirt, and his nipples harden in the cold morning air.  She pushes him back against the pile of pillows against the couch, and straddles him quickly.  “I’m done playing and begging.  Now I’m taking what’s mine.”

His head falls back and roars with laughter as she straddles him and sheaths him.  “It’s all yours babe, my pet, every inch of it.” He looks down to see he’s totally hidden inside her and it’s so fuckin’ sexy.  He quietly whispers his thoughts to her as he tucks her hair back and holds her face in his large hands as she rides him.  Up and down, controlling him now, she quickly pulls him to his edge.  Teetering there, he pushes her over, pulling out and tugging, long ropes of creamy white cum on her tight stomach.

He collapses next to her and she winds her fingers in his hair.  “You cheated,” she coughs.  “That’s not what I wanted.”

He kisses her shoulder, and mumbles sleepily.  “Wasn’t covered… unless we’re ready for a little one to be calling me ‘daddy…’”

She traces her fingers along his profile.  Her voice dances with a gleeful joy.  “Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad…”

He rises up on his elbow and smiles down at her.  He grabs his shirt and wipes up his mess across her belly.  “Now I know you’re drunk,” he laughs.  “Just a month ago you didn’t want to talk about this.”

“Things change,” she shrugs her shoulders and her eyes seek his in the firelight.  “Just a month ago I didn’t know how tender and calm you could be in a crisis.  It’s like you just passed a test or something.  You’ve taken such good care of me, so worried about me and doing everything to comfort me and make me better.  Maybe it is time someone really call you ‘Daddy.’”

Dodger barks and growls, pacing in the kennel.  “Diaper changes, letting the dog out in the middle of the night, guess it wouldn’t be that different,” he jokes.

“The man with the plan and healing hands,” she giggles and coughs.  She sits up and pulls on her tank top.  She pours another shot of whiskey to calm her cough and her face reflects the bitter taste.

Chris chuckles, his hand tight on her thigh.  “Just where do you think you’re going?”

“Dodger needs out and I gotta use the restroom,” she blushes, searching the pile of clothes for her panties.

“You’re not going out there.  I heard coyotes, and it’s raining.”  He rises next to her and kisses her neck with care.  He crawls to the hearth and puts another log on the fire.  “I’ll take care of him; you take care of you.”  He hands her the water and aspirin.

She smiles kindly, and teases in a light tone, “Yes, Daddy.

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

What’s His Number?

what's his number June 23 2016

What’s His Number?

a Steve Rogers fan fiction

by avenger-nerd-mom

Nat walks in on Girls Night at the Tower with Charlie, Pepper, Jane, Darcy and Maria

Warning: Language, Adult Situations, Discussions of sex, Drinking, Anxiety

Word Count: 1643

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

Link here for Story One: Finding Warmth

Author’s Note: I’m not exactly sure what Wanda’s super power is? I know she can move things with telekinesis and has the power to make people see things?   I’m extending this belief as my personal head cannon that she can read thoughts and sometimes see images in the minds of others as well…

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

December

Nat enters the common room of the Tower and wishes quickly she could make a hasty retreat, but she’s already been spotted.  “Nat’s here!” Jane giggles loudly.  “WHOOOO! Party!” a chorus of female voices shout.

She smiles and shakes her head, grabbing a bottle of chilled vodka from the wine fridge before sitting in a chair on the outer edge of the circle of women collected in the room.  “What kinda hen party is this?” she asks with a grin.  Damn Steve for making me play nice, she thinks to herself.

“We’re just killing time till the cocks get back,” Jane announces with flourish, high-fiving Darcy, who is rested near her feet on the floor.

“What?” Nat asks Charlie, curled up on the end of the couch closest to her.

Charlie takes the bowl of popcorn as Wanda passes it to her, “Somebody in Rhodey’s department is getting married. The boys are all at a bachelor party, so we’re having a little fun of our own,” she answers in a stage whisper, slightly tipsy.

“Speaking of cocks, the good part is getting ready to come on,” Pepper laughs, pointing at the large screen.

Nat is a little taken aback by Pepper’s youthful appearance with her hair loose and no make-up, wearing one of Tony’s Guns N Roses t-shirts and sweats.  Seeing the straight-forward business woman so relaxed causes Nat to take a deep breath and settle in.  If Pepper can do this, I can do it too, she thinks to herself.  She takes a long pull straight from the bottle, feeling the sting of the icy cold liquid as it goes down.

All the women turn their attention to the TV, shushing one another, giggling as they try to cover Wanda’s eyes.  “You’re too young for this!” Jane shouts.

“What are we watching?” Nat asks to no one in particular, but no one answers her.

“I’ve seen the movie before,” Wanda laughs, pushing everyone’s hands away from her with her mystical powers.

“No fair!” Pepper laughs, throwing popcorn at the young girl.

“That tingles,” Darcy giggles.  “Do it again!”  Wanda gently kicks her in the back of the head and Darcy dissolves into a fit of laughter.

“Shhh…. It’s the best part,” Pepper admonishes the women.  Nat smiles at Pepper’s youthful actions and turns her attention to the TV, wondering what is so damn important.

The women all are transfixed by the image on the screen, the handsome actor slowly stripping and tossing around a basketball.  “Damn, I need to learn to play basketball,” Jane giggles with a sigh.

Nat whistles out, “Holy fuck!” and the girls giggle at her response.

“Is it just me, or does that actor look a lot like Steve?” Maria asks, biting the tip of her manicured nail, her sinful thoughts openly displayed on her face.

The women turn to look at Charlie and she shrugs her shoulders.  “Ah, Steve’s better looking,” she laughs, biting her lip and hiding her blush behind a pillow.

“Ooooww!” Darcy cat calls loudly, her voice echoing through the large cavernous room.  “Hell yea, he is!  I shoulda hit that when I had the chance.”

“Darcy!” Jane shouts as Pepper hits the young woman with a pillow, “You can’t say shit like that out loud.”

Wanda laughs, “Why not? Every woman in this room was thinking it.”

“Hey, again, not fair!  You can’t use your gifts against us,” Pepper joins in the laughter.

Wanda tosses her hair back and says lightly, “Well, it’s not like I want to be in your minds, but everyone practically screamed it at me.”  She giggles and slightly blushes, shaking her head to try to wipe away the images her friends inadvertently sent her.

“Oh, God.  I don’t want to be here for this,” Nat says, getting up to leave.  Wanda catches her eye with a sly grin and Natasha uses every ounce of her spy training to close her thoughts from releasing more images to the young girl.  What Wanda has already seen from her mind is probably enough to scar the girl for life.

“No, stay.  You can’t leave me here,” Charlie says, grabbing the red-head’s arm.  “They’re about to turn vicious and you’re the one I trust to back me up.”

Nat is stunned by the contact and Charlie’s words. Her first instinct is to jerk her arm away but she takes a deep breath and instead gently pats the top of Charlie’s hand.  “What do you mean, ‘vicious?’”

Charlie motions for her to sit back down and Nat complies, reluctantly.

“I’m new, fresh meat. Now’s the time in the ‘hen party’ as you called it when they’re going to pounce and ask me all kinds of questions I don’t want to answer.  That’s what girls do,” Charlie explains.  She smiles warmly at Nat, knowing Steve wants her to draw the woman into their superhero sisterhood.

Nat closes her eyes and opens them slowly.  “Why the hell would you do that to one another?”

While Jane pauses the movie, also aware of what Charlie is doing, Darcy pats the table top and motions for Nat to rest her feet there, “Just don’t knock over my beer,” she advises.  “Cause that’s how we learn things about ourselves, one another, and secrets about our men.”

“You just don’t tell everything,” adds Pepper.

“Yea, please don’t,” Nat groans.  “I don’t need to know about Tony in the way I think you all are implying.”

Charlie laughs, “Apparently we can’t think it either, cause Wanda knows more than she’s letting on. Isn’t that right, babe?”

Wanda covers her face in a blush.  “I really don’t mean to be intrusive.  It’s all coming at me so fast, unless I see a thought, I don’t know who thinks what, if that makes anyone feel better.”

“It doesn’t,” Nat laughs.  “It’s creepy as shit.”

“Oh my God!  It’s perfect!  Wanda! You can be like the bullshit detector and call out the liars,” Darcy claps her hands gleefully.

“NO!” the women shout.

Darcy huffs.  “Fine, whatever, but that was gonna be an awesome game of Never Have I Ever…. So.  Charlie.  Steve? He’s got more game than we think, doesn’t he? He’s not all ‘yes ma’am,’ ‘whatever you say, ma’am,’ am I right? I studied my 1940s war history.  I know some of the guys have bets he’s still a virgin, but he’s not, is he?”

Charlie tries to hold back her giggles. “Wait a minute!  You’re gonna jump over the easy questions and go straight for the kill?”

“Yes!” Jane, Darcy and Maria reply in unison.

With a gleam in her eye, Maria adds, “You forget.  Some of us are trained assassins.”

Laughing, Charlie takes a nervous sip of her wine, swirling the crimson liquid around in the glass.

“Come on, give us something,” Pepper pleads.  “He’s so damn good looking, but in all the time I’ve known him, he’s never brought a girlfriend home.”

“Well, Mom,” Charlie looks pointedly at Pepper, “I think it’s pretty safe to say you just never knew.

“He’s brought women here before, Pepper,” Nat confirms quietly.

Pepper cocks her eyebrow at Nat, the question left unspoken.

“Or he’s left here with them,” adds Maria, quickly looking away from the group, back to the TV.

“Shit. No way,” says Darcy. “How did I miss my chance?”

Charlie taps Darcy on the shoulder. “It’s ok, hun.” She smiles at the younger woman.  She tilts her head to the side, taking in Natasha and Maria, both women having just confirmed answers to questions Steve has been avoiding.  “Some friendships can survive the sex if it doesn’t work out and some are just too important to mess up by adding in sex.”

Darcy blushes.  “Damn. You’re just saying that to make me feel better, but thanks.  Ok, so we have confirmation Steve isn’t like a hundred-year-old virgin? What’s his number?”

“Dammit, Darcy! Cut it out!” Jane scolds her co-worker and friend.

“What?! We’re all friends.  We should be able to share personal shit and not be embarrassed.”

Nat chokes on her drink, straight from the bottle.  “Fuck, no.  I still don’t wanna know about Tony in the bedroom.”

The group laughs.  Jane sighs deeply, willing to take the jump, feeling she and Charlie are in somewhat similar situations.  “Charlie?” she inquires, her tone soothing. “He’s not your average mortal man.  I can sympathize with that.  Ah… us girls have noticed you sometimes have bruises.  Is, um, everything okay?”

Charlie’s eyes widen.  “Oh, my God!  You know Steve would never hurt me, right?  I mean, you said it yourself, he’s not your average man.  So, yea.  No.  It’s all good,” she chuckles, blushing but needing to set things straight.  “It’s not like-” she sighs deeply, embarrassed, and shakes her head.  “Steve is always very gentle and considerate.  It’s not like we mean to be rough, it just kinda happens that way.”

Nat sees Steve’s girl struggling with her answers, wanting everyone to know she’s okay, but not wanting to betray Steve or their relationship in any way.  She feels oddly protective of the woman Steve has claimed as his.  Acting on instinct, her quick thinking exclaims, “Oh, shit!  I think I’ve seen this movie.  Isn’t the guy’s bare ass in the next scene?  Cause, uh, I’d rather see that than hear about Steve. That’s almost creepier than hearing about Tony.”

Cluing in to Nat’s dismissive tone, Darcy laughs, “Ok. Fine. What do you guys think about Clint? They’ve got lots of kids.  His aim must never miss.”

The girls boo and hiss at her joke and Jane turns the movie back on.  Nat watches the easy camaraderie of the women and she feels Charlie’s eyes on her.  She turns to the dark haired woman, who whispers ‘thank you’ before turning her attention back to the attractive actor, who happens to look a lot like Steve.

Click here for “Merry Christmas, Steve

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