A Night at the Movies

ET ch 19 May 7 2017

Educating Thalia

Chapter 19

Collaboration by @devikafernando & @avenger-nerd-mom

AU FICTION

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

Word count: 3934

Warnings:  Language, Adult Situations, NSFW, Dom Tom, sex in a public place, fingering, exhibitionism

Summary: Tom takes Thalia out on a date to the movies – and he has much more planned than just watching the screen!

Click here for intro to Educating Thalia

Tom approaches their meeting point in his car, anticipation making him drum his fingers on the steering wheel. He’s looking forward to spending some quality time with Thalia. Even though – or maybe because – they see each other every day at work, he’s been missing her.

It should probably bother him that he’s grown so attached to her, that he feels a little possessive pinch every time he sees her in someone else’s company – even if it’s just other students – but it doesn’t.

In the past, he used to overthink everything, and all that ever did for him was make him brood and steal his happiness. So for the past few years, he’s taken things at face value, has stopped questioning himself. His brain might be telling him that he’s inviting trouble by ‘dating’ Thalia, but his heart insists that it’s exactly the right thing.

“Shut up, brain,” Tom mutters under his breath, “just lose yourself in Shakespeare sonnets so my heart can get what it wants.”

He’s even considered going to the bar on the outskirts of town where Thalia works off and on. There’s a curious part inside him that wants to watch her in an environment completely different from campus. He has a feeling it brings out her tough side, the one that is closely linked to the sassiness she lets shine through the more he gets to know her.  He’s heard talk from students and faculty who have visited the bar about how she handles the tough guys and takes no shit, of how she somehow rises above all the drunken stupor, boisterous shouts, sullen drinking and rowdy games.

But Tom isn’t a bar guy at all, and it’s a ‘local’ bar, not designed for the college crowd. Something, a different voice at the back of his head, cautions him that it wouldn’t do him any good to stalk her like that. Perhaps it’s better this way. Perhaps she needs a domain that’s exclusively hers, where she knows she isn’t watched by him and can be whoever she chooses to be.

He rounds the corner, slowing the car a little when the movie theater comes into view. For a moment, he wishes he could just pick her up at home, maybe have her invite him up for a cup of tea and some lazy kisses on the couch.

Turning right, he steers the silver Lexus into the parking lot.

There she is. Thalia is standing next to her cute little junky excuse for a car, her riotous curls tamed by a ridiculously long, pink scarf wrapped around her neck a dozen times and still hanging down to the hem of her knee-length skirt. Her coat and her skirt are black, so the splash of hot, feminine color is twice as striking from the distance. She’s stomping her bare legs in the cold, wearing her signature cowboy boots. Her hands are stuffed in her coat pockets, and she’s not watching the area for him but waiting with her head half-lowered.

When she hears the approaching car, she looks up, and he notices her thoughtful expression before a smile slowly transforms her face.

Tom parks a little away and gets out, shuddering once at the cold. He should’ve brought his own scarf. Then again, they weren’t planning on walking but on watching a special screening of Coriolanus, a stage play performed recently in London and now released worldwide for select theaters.

Pulling the hood of his coat tight around his neck, he ignores the fog on his glasses as he approaches. His lips stretch in an answering smile, forming laughter lines around his eyes.

“Fancy meeting you here, Miss Bareo,” he says with the lift of a brow. “Then again, I do know you’re a huge Shakespeare fan too.”

Her smile falters a little and she lifts a hand to tug on her orchid-pink enormity of a scarf.

“Who could resist the Bard – especially if such magnificent actors reenact one of his best plays?”

Shooting a glance left and right, Tom comes closer. He can’t help himself, he needs to touch her. There’s nobody to be seen anywhere near, and as the car park is at the back of the building, they’re in no danger of being discovered.

He leans closer and wraps her in his arms, inhaling her unique scent mixed with wool and biting winter cold.

Thalia takes a moment, then melts into his embrace, her arms coming up around his waist to press herself closer.

They remain like this for a precious moment while Tom resists the temptation to kiss her.

A gust of wind makes her shiver against him, and he rubs her back.

“Let’s go inside. We’re a bit early, but I can’t wait to feel warmer.”

She nods and they step away from each other, walking into the building. They’re close enough for their arms to touch, and Tom brushes a finger softly over her hand before putting a tiny bit more distance between them.

The next few minutes are spent exploring the place with all its Shakespeare-themed posters and paraphernalia, and then bickering goodnaturedly over what snacks to buy and what is the correct way to eat one’s popcorn. Tom insists on carrying their drinks and snacks, and he watches mesmerized as she unwraps those seemingly infinite layers of scarf and then loops the soft material around a hand so it’s finally small enough to stuff into a coat pocket.

He takes her to the hall, which is half empty. Their seats are at the very back. There are a few people right at the front, and judging from their animated talk they are Shakespeare enthusiasts. Several of the seats in the middle rows are occupied by younger and older couples who obviously had the same idea as Tom and want to share some privacy, probably not caring much for Coriolanus.

They settle down, Tom helping Thalia out of her coat because the place is surprisingly warm. She’s wearing a pink sweater underneath that is exactly the same shade as her scarf and stretches fetchingly across her ample breasts. He runs a hand over her shoulder and down her arm, briefly entangling their hands.

“Pretty. You don’t just smell like orchids, you look like them too.”

She raises her brows at him. “Ever the complementing gentleman, huh?”

“Why, of course.” He feigns shock, clutching his chest. “I couldn’t possibly not pay you a compliment about your outfit before we get down to business. About a million dead ancestors would roll over in their graves.”

That makes her giggle. “And what on earth do you mean with ‘getting down to business’, Professor?” she asks, her brows rising even higher.

He gives her his most innocent puppy-dog face. “Oh, just a general way of summarizing whatever may or may not happen during the next few hours.”

Now she’s narrowing her eyes at him, getting that sharp look of curiosity and intelligence that he loves so much.

“I thought we came here to watch a play?”

“Among other things,” he says airily and holds down a seat for her.

With an eye roll, she sits down, her skirt riding up to her thick thighs and making his hands itch to explore.

Tom takes a seat next to her and hands her the Coke. “Did you know that critics consider Coriolanus as the most opaque of Shakespeare’s tragic heroes? Compared with other grand works like Macbeth or King Lear, there’s hardly a revelation of his motives or a soliloquy. It makes him appear more like those ancient classical literature heroes like Odysseus or Achilles.”

Thalia cocks her head a little, listening intently. “Interesting. Wouldn’t that make him kind of difficult to sympathize with?”

“It does, yeah. Perhaps that’s why this play isn’t performed as much as others.”

“I heard there was a movie starring Ralph Fiennes that gave the story a modern twist?” Thalia asks, momentarily distracting him from lecture mode when she gulps a bit of her soda and licks a drop from her lips.

“Uh… yes. Yes, you’re right. A highly acclaimed actor and a stunning, quite provocative movie. Then again, today’s interpretation has earned a lot of praise too. There’s all that pride and militarism and Roman grandeur, but also so much subtle background story.”

They spend the next few minutes talking about the play and then veer to small talk, and something feels a little odd to Tom. Thalia seems distant, a bit subdued almost, although her smile – when she does smile – reaches her eyes.

Didn’t she mention she’d been with a friend? But that should have left her in a good mood.  He wonders why she isn’t as enthusiastic or flirty as he’d hoped?

Deciding to pull her out of her thoughts during another lull in conversation, Tom says, “You know, I’ve been in a couple of Shakespeare plays myself.”

That does catch her attention. She gapes at him, a handful of popcorn halted in mid-air.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

He grins. “I swear, scout’s honor.”

“Wouldn’t have pegged you for an actor, Professor Hiddleston.” Wide-eyed, she grins back at him. “Tell me all about your acting career.”

With a sheepish smile, Tom rubs the back of his neck. “It’s not actual acting, just a bit of dabbling. It was for a college play both times, actually. I starred in Cymbeline and Othello. It was fun, once I’d died a thousand deaths of mortification.”

He’s interrupted by the lights going out and the sounds of people settling down for the movie.

For the next half an hour, they’re much too intrigued and enthralled by the play to talk much. They munch on their snacks, off and on elbowing each other or exchanging a glance or tugging on a sleeve when they want to share their delight.

When a shift of her body makes her skirt ride up higher, Tom remembers what had been his plan today.

Leaning over, he nuzzles her hair softly before taking her arm and draping it over the back of his seat so he can get closer and lean against it. She makes a content little sound, and after a moment, her head drops to his shoulder. It’s dark enough for them not to fear discovery.

Tom switches his popcorn to the other hand and rests his free hand on her knee. Thalia shoots him a glance but focuses on the shouting Roman general again when he simply keeps it in place.

He waits until she’s so immersed in the play that he will catch her off guard. Slowly, he lets his hand wander higher until he slinks it beneath the hem of her skirt and runs his nails over the inside of her thigh.

Thalia’s legs close, effectively trapping his hand between them.

“What are you doing?” she hisses out of the corner of a mouth, staring determinedly ahead.

The light is too low, but he bets she’s blushing.

“I think I’ve had enough popcorn. I’m hungry for a different kind of treat,” he murmurs, keeping his voice low and letting it drop to the deeper register that always works wonders with her.

He feels her shiver. When he wiggles his fingers against her skin, her legs open ever so slightly. It gives him enough room to slide his hand higher until his fingertips are brushing the crease where skin meets panties.

“Are you up for some naughty shenanigans, Miss Bareo?” he asks, leaning close enough to her ear that his breath fans warmly over her.

He sees her grip tighten on her popcorn bag before she draws in a deep breath.

“What kind of shenanigans did you have in mind, Professor Hiddleston?” she asks back in the same low tone.

“Let me surprise you, darling.”

A few seconds tick by, making him wonder again why she’s not as responsive to him today. But then she nods, and he licks his lips in anticipation.

“We’re in the last row, remember. Nobody can see us. And everyone’s either too busy making out or watching the play to notice anything out of order.  And you remember our safe word?”  Sexual encounters in a public place aren’t for everyone, and he wants her to know she has an out if she chooses.

She nods again.

“Are you a good girl, Thalia?” His voice is even lower and deeper now.

“Yes…sir.”

God, she remembered that. Tom feels himself grow harder and adjusts his position surreptitiously.

“Then you deserve a treat. Spread your legs wider, love.”

Thalia complies, her gaze never leaving the screen. He can hear her breath come a little faster.

Bending his wrist a bit, he runs his fingers softly over the front of her panties, stroking rhythmically without touching high enough to brush her clit. After a few strokes, the fabric goes damp.

Her popcorn bag wobbles in her now unsteady grip, so she sets it down in the seat next to her and puts her empty hand into her lap. It clenches into a fist when he moves his fingers higher and adds some pressure, rubbing over the hidden nub.

In the dim light, he can see her dig her teeth into her lower lip.

“Do you trust me, darling?”

“Yes.” Her voice is husky.

Tom leans closer still, speaking with his lips pressed against the shell of her ear.

“Then be a very good girl for me and take your panties off.”

“What?” It comes out as a mix between a soft shout and a startled squeak. From somewhere, a voice shushes them, and he can feel her muscles grow tense.

Tutting softly, he gives her clothed clit a pinch that makes her jerk and suck in her breath. Her eyes are on him now, wide and dark.

“Take them off. Now. And I’ll reward you.”

He removes his hand from under her skirt and shrugs out of his coat, draping it strategically over their laps. Moving with deliberate jerkiness, he knocks a chocolate bar down.

“Bend to pick this up and use it as a pretense.”

She holds his gaze for a moment, her breasts heaving with unsteady breaths.

“Hell, Tom, you’re a fucking menace,” she mutters darkly.

“And you love it,” he whispers back with a smirk, his cock twitching when she moves to obey his command.

Wriggling a little under the cover of the coat, Thalia slips her panties down and slowly lifts a foot at a time out of it while grabbing the wrapped candy.

“Hand them to me.”

Avoiding his gaze this time, she drops the wadded damp silk fabric into his waiting hand and he pockets it.

They settle down, watching the play for several minutes as if nothing happened.

Tom takes her hand, entwining their fingers and squeezing reassuringly. He can feel her shift, crossing and uncrossing her legs and fully aware of going commando in a movie theater.

“Have you ever had a quickie, Thalia?” he asks, taking care to keep his voice as low as possible. He brushes his leg against hers. “Some forbidden little tryst in the restroom or up against the wall in a dark corner?”

She sucks in another breath. “No.”

“Wrong answer. You should say ‘no, not yet’. How about I introduce you to the thrill of that one day?”

Her grip on his hand tightens like a vice.

“Would you like that? To let me pull you to a semi-secluded place and grind against you, plunging my tongue into your mouth and my fingers into your sopping cunt? Would you wrap your legs around me and let me take you so hard and fast you see stars? Make you feel so good that you’ve never wanted to scream more in your life but know you can’t? Would you let me fuck you so mercilessly that I’ll have to clamp my hand over your mouth and let you bite my fingers so nobody can hear you when you come all over my cock?”

He hears her mutter expletives in Spanish and English and can’t hold back a devilish smirk, although he’s enjoying this so much that his trousers are way too tight now.

“Does the thought of it make you wet?” he taunts softly. “Shall we verify that, love?”

Tom moves their joined hands beneath the coat and her skirt, brushing over the inside of her trembling thigh and inexorably closer to the Promised Land.

He touches her slick folds, their tangled fingers stroking and spreading the proof of her arousal. Biting back a groan of his own, he listens to her needy, soft whine. After a minute of stroking, her hips rise, her breath a harsh pant that only he is close enough to hear.

“More, darling? Want me to make you come right here and right now?”

“Fff…. god yes. I hate you for this, but… yes. Make me come. Please, Tom.”

“As you wish, darling.”

He tugs free of her grasp and moves her hand to her own thigh. “Dig your fingers in and hold on for the ride.”

Tom leans over her on the pretense of adjusting his coat over her, and it allows him more flexibility. At the same time when he slides two fingers into her soaking heat, he bends to capture her lips in a kiss.

He knows they’re not the only couple kissing at the moment, but nobody will be the wiser that he does it to swallow up the moans now rising from deep in her chest.

Without further teasing, he crooks his fingers up inside her to rub over the spot that will trigger her release. He rubs his thumb over her swollen nub and glides his tongue into her mouth, dancing with hers as she gasps, freezes and then clamps rhythmically around him.

While stifling her whimper and his own, he slows his movements to bring her down from her high.

Once she has stopped convulsing around him, he pulls out and settles somewhat painfully in his seat, his erection straining to have some fun too. He waits until she focuses hazily on him before he brings the slick digits to his mouth and licks them clean.

“Definitely tastier than the sweets they sell here,” he growls before stealing another breathless kiss from her.

Thalia slumps in her seat, so dazed she doesn’t even ask for her panties back.

“I think you’ve ruined Shakespeare for me,” she says amidst soft pants, and he can hear the reluctant grin in her husky voice. “I’ll never be able to talk about Coriolanus again without remembering this.”

“Likewise, darling,” he admits with a chuckle.  “And I have to present it once a semester in class.”

She catches him totally by surprise when her hand slides over his bulge and squeezes gently.

“Let me help you too?”

Tom presses her hand down, forcing himself not to buck into the more than welcome warmth so close to where he’s dying for her.

“Not here, darling. I need to be inside you, and I haven’t made you come nearly enough yet.”

He laces his fingers with hers, keeping their hands on his lap but out of the danger zone, not entirely sure that he’ll be able to control the monster he’s unleashed. Since Chicago, she’s a little more forward, more daring, and he loves it, but it also fills him with the weirdest wistful ache deep inside. For she isn’t his, as much as he wants to convince himself otherwise.  She’s like a wild creature who needs freedom, who shouldn’t be tamed, but could stand a little training.  As much as he wants her to himself, he reminds himself to be realistic. He can’t keep her forever.

That thought sits with him, a lump in his chest, and he can’t focus on the film before him, although the portrayal is amazing work. The rest of the play goes by in a blur, neither of them paying full attention or finishing the snacks, although his throat is parched with longing and he could guzzle two bottles of water right about now.

Tom rises as soon as the credits start rolling, tugging her out with him before people might take notice of who had occupied the last row.

They dump their stuff on a bench in the lobby and juggle their clothes, Tom taking it upon himself to wrap her in the never-ending loop of her scarf and nuzzling the softer than soft material that smells of her.

“Where would you like to go now?” he asks her. “I could rent us another hotel room and order take-away or room service?”

Something shifts in her face, which is still slightly flushed. She looks away for a moment and takes a deep breath.

They’re in a corner towards the back, alone for the moment. After checking left and right, Thalia takes his face in her hands. It’s an odd gesture, the tenderness of it jolting through him.

“Will…will you be mad if I decline?” she asks, her voice a little uncertain.

Tom feels something heavy settle on his chest and sinking lower into his gut.

There it is again, a small sign that something is off today.

He’d love to know why she’s reacting like this, but he knows it’s none of his business unless she wants to share it with him. So, he forces a smile onto his face, happy when it brings the spark back into her beautiful eyes.

“I have no right to be mad at you, Thalia,” he says. “Please don’t ever think you’re in any way obliged to spend time with me.”

She nods once, letting go of his face. He wants her hands back there, where they feel as if they belong. He wants her in his arms, in his bed, goddammit.

“Tom,” at the sound of his name he knows their little game is over for today.  “Don’t be that way. I love being with you, but I’m…tired. And I didn’t get much studying done this afternoon, because I was getting ready to see you.  This was a nice surprise for our ‘day off,’ but can we just go grab a quick cup of coffee? Maybe sit and talk for a bit? I’d really like that.”

Tom feels himself nodding like a loon, hears himself speak in a tone that grates on his nerves because the cheerfulness is all fake. “Sure, totally fine with me. There’s a great little bakery just around the corner?”

Her hand gently runs across the stubble on his chin as she teases, “You always know the best places to eat!”

He feigns a chuckle, and something in her expression tells him she’s seeing right through the farce.

Shit, he didn’t think it would be so difficult to face rejection from her. Not so soon, not like this when they’ve barely explored all the magnificent possibilities, but he feels like she’s leaving him behind.  Like something is weighing heavy on her beautiful mind.

Then again, he’s probably taking this far too seriously. Everyone has a bad day once in awhile. He shouldn’t read anything into this.

Pulling himself together, he leans in and kisses her on both cheeks, lips lingering a tad too close to her mouth.

“And I’ll share them all with you, love,” he says quietly, trying to mask the sinking feeling in his stomach. Buoyed when she links her arm around his, she pushes them out the door and onto the deserted sidewalk.

“Come on, Professor. Although I quite enjoyed the reasoning behind your clothing request, I’m freezing now. Let’s go!”

Click here to read Chapter 20 Disclosure

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

Advertisements

Morning After

ET ch 17 Morning After

Educating Thalia

Chapter 17

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: 3185

Warnings:  Language, Adult Situations, fluff, heavy life discussions

Summary:  Chris learns more about Thalia over a homemade breakfast together.  He finds there’s more to the dark-haired beauty than meets the eye…

Click here for intro to Educating Thalia

He turns her in his arms and clasps his hands over her rounded ass, holding her tight in the locked cage of his beefy arms.  Through the gap in the sheet twisted around her body, his cock fits against her hot pussy, seeking her out again.

“Oh, no.  We’re not going for Four now.  Food.  I’m starving,” she chuckles, pushing hard against his chest.

Her touch has a power over him, but no strength to actually move him.  He smiles and teases.  “Oh, that’s cute you think you could move me!”

He halts when she points to her gym membership card on the dresser and shoves him a bit harder.  Not expecting it, he totters just a bit and throws his head back in laughter as she pulls free of his hold.  Shit, she could probably kick his ass…

Moving to the closet, she gathers clothes and steps towards the doorway, then stops and throws the clothes on the bed.  She rolls her eyes.  “What’s the point? You’ve already seen me naked and didn’t run off…”

If anything it made him want to run closer to her.  He looks around for his clothes but pauses to watch her thoughtfully as she dresses.  He doesn’t want to go home to his empty condo. “Enough of that… you’re a sensual goddess, and I don’t wanna hear any more about that.” He looks to her smartly when she audibly scoffs.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me,” he points.  “I’ll do everything I can to make you believe me.”  He catches a pair of sweatpants she tosses to him and with a shrug, puts them on.  “Hungry, huh?  Last night you said pancakes.  What if I make pancakes while you study?”

Looking up from tying her loose sweats, her jaw momentarily drops.  “You wanna cook for me?”

“It’s mix and water.  It’s not that hard,” he replies, still feeling like a manly man for offering, but pancakes, he can do.

Pulling a superhero t shirt over her head she returns his laughter.  “Mix?  I don’t know what women you’ve been with, but real women make their pancakes from scratch.”  She runs her hand down his chest, straightening out the twisted elastic at his waist and then pulling it back and releasing it with a snap before leaving the room.

“Fuck,” Chris whispers following her out of the bedroom.  “From scratch?”

He watches her gather measuring spoons and a large skillet.  She opens a cabinet door and points to a recipe taped inside.  “It’s easy.  The one my stepmother always uses,” she explains.  “It says ‘vanilla optional.’ It’s not.  Add the vanilla,” Thalia requests.  “Are you sure?  I can make them quick, or even call the diner and pre-order something?”

Washing his hands, Chris grins at her.  “Sit down and study.  I can handle a Sunday morning breakfast.”

He notices her pause as she gathers some books to sit at the kitchen table.  Measuring out the flour and sugar he can feel her eyes on him and knows she’s studying anatomy and not… whatever it is she’s supposed to be studying right now.

“Chris,” her curious voice interrupts him as he dollops the first serving of batter into the warm pan.  “The comment about ‘women you’ve been with?’ I shouldn’t have said that…  I’m really sorry.  I… I just remembered stuff I’ve heard in the faculty workroom…  So?  It was a pretty bad divorce?”

Running his hand over his mouth and down his beard, his eyes sadden, nodding his head.  Scratching his eyebrow, he tells her, “I appreciate your concern, but I really don’t wanna talk about it.  That’s what I have therapy for.”

“Ok.  Fair enough…” She watches as he expertly flips the pancakes, biting her lip.  “You also made the perfect braid… “ she smiles, playing with her now loose tresses..  “A daughter?  How old is she?”

Opening a cabinet and finding the plates, Chris pulls two down and places them on the counter.  Turning, he rests his hip against the counter and smiles brightly.  “Avery is five; she’s my light…  Her mother wouldn’t let me see her last night.  That’s how I ended up drunk in a bar…  The last two times I was supposed to see her, there’s been some lame excuse.”

Turning back, he takes the pancakes off the heat and serves them up on the plates.  Thalia moves her books to the side, and he feels bad she’s not getting any studying accomplished.

When he sets the plate in front of her, she touches his arm.  “I bet you’re a good dad.  Don’t give up.  Your ex will see you’re trying, no matter what your differences are, and she can’t deny the facts.”

Sitting down at the little table with her, his large legs bump against hers and he enjoys her comfort.  “Thank you; I’m trying.  Some days are just easier, you know.”

Looking to a photo on the shelf of an older man, obviously her father, she nods her head and looks back to her plate.  “Yea, I do.”  She cuts up her pancakes and reaches for the syrup, her hand brushing his as he grabs for it at the same time.  “These look amazing.  You did good.”

They enjoy a friendly breakfast.  Chris asks her about the funeral notice and she tells her about her friend and he shares a few stories about Avery.  The speed with which they’ve settled in with one another alarms Chris and he already feels a tug on his conscious, trying to tell himself again she’s a student, and this is so damn wrong.

But he doesn’t really fucking care.

The pancakes were pretty damn good, for a first try, and he’ll remember to add vanilla the next time he makes some, even if he uses a mix.  Clearing away the table, she begins to rise but he stops her.  “No.  Study.  I’m in your way.  I really need to go.”

She smiles sweetly, tilting her head.  “Oh, I don’t know.  It’s kinda nice to have a man around,” she places her empty plate in his outreached hand.  “I mean, you should probably go get dressed, so I’m not distracted, but I’m going to study, really.  Once I get into it, I’ll focus…  You are welcome to stay.”

“I do have some emails I could answer, some papers to grade.  Not all of us have grad students to do that for us,” he comments wryly, placing the dishes in the sink, catching the blush rise on her cheeks.

“Professor Evans,” Thalia announces sternly and with authority, “any faculty member needing assistance simply has to apply in the office of student affairs.  It’s work study and helps keep tuition down for the students like me.  You can request short term help with things like grading tests and papers, or long term assistance if you were working on a large research project for the University.”

“God, please don’t call me ‘Professor.’  I really fuckin’ hate that title.  It sounds so pretentious.  And I try to be anything but that.  ‘Pretty boy.’  That’s a title I could get used to,” he teases.

Her eyes widen as she remembers talking to Jim before leaving the bar last night.  She cringes.  “It was so noisy!  How did you hear that?” she asks incredulously.

“I never reveal my sources,” he taunts, heading to her room to change back into his clothes.

Returning to the kitchen a few minutes later, Chris sits back down and powers up his phone, a question bugging at the back of his mind.  “So what’s the story with Jim, anyway?  He seems very protective of you.”

Looking up from her tablet, she opens a textbook and smiles. “That’s Papa Jim.  He and my dad were in Desert Storm together and have been like brothers ever since… he and his wife were so excited when I was accepted to school here.”  She glances at her scribbled notes and flips to another section of the book, looking over to Chris.  “To save money, they actually helped me establish residency here and I lived with them for about two and a half years, until I felt secure enough to afford an apartment with friends.”

Chris can’t keep his eyes off her.  Her little movements and quirks.  She’s fascinating to watch.  She twists her hair away from her face and ties it in a loose bun, sticking a pencil through the thick knot to hold it in place.  How is that even possible?

“Worst six months of my life, that apartment.  They thought it was party central…  I was so glad to get out of that lease when I went over to study in Europe the first time.”  She shivers at an old memory.  “And a friend stayed here and took over my lease this last summer when I was working on some research in England.”  Looking around the room, it’s like she’s seeing it again for the first time, maybe through his eyes.  “I like it here.  It’s cramped, and full of junk and crap, but it’s mine, ya know?”

His eyes sadden briefly.  He does ‘know’ but hasn’t felt that way in a long time.  He shrugs his shoulders.  “Still working on making my place feel like ‘home.’  To be honest, some nights I feel more comfortable in my office, or falling asleep in one of the bean bags chairs in the library.”

She clears her throat and leans forward over her book, picking up a highlighter to mark a note.  “I remember when my mom left and got a new place.  Hate to tell ya, it’ll probably feel like that for awhile.”

“Thank you for the uplifting sentiment; mind if I just stick my head in the oven now, so I won’t die alone?”

Her shoulders rock with laughter and he watches as once again, she jiggles in a bra that just isn’t the right fit for her.  That would be a situation he would love to remedy for her.  A little lingerie shopping and modeling of styles can always lift the spirits.

“I’m talking too much.  I’m keeping you from your work… But I do have one more question, then I’ll be quiet; I promise.”

Opening another book, she places it on top of the huge volume already displayed on the table.  “Shoot.  I’m an open book.  Whatever you want to know…”

“Well fuck, now it’s two things, cuz I just thought of something else I’m curious about.”

She giggles and gets up from her chair.  Moving to the fridge, she retrieves two water bottles, handing one to him over his shoulder.  “You are the type that asks for one thing, and then always hopes for more, aren’t you?”  She teases in his ear, pushing her body against his before returning to the chair.

He chuckles.  “Yeah, probably.  Like, maybe I’m just hanging around now for the hopes of Four?”  He smiles at the shake of her head and continues.  “Ok, first question.  You’re obviously brilliant.  You’ve studied in Europe; worked on a few archeology digs, and Professor Hiddleston obviously thinks highly of you; he can’t stand the state of the American education system and is always belittling students in meetings. But he tolerates you- you must be wicked smaht,” he grimaces when his old neighborhood accent shines through.  “Honestly, I don’t see how you stand to work with him, but,” he tilts his head, smirking at the scowl on her face.  Her beloved Professor Hiddleston… He might like to give that man shit, but he’s not going to get under her skin by knocking the man she admires… “I get the language and history connection, but still he’s just such an assh-…”  Shaking his head, he stops himself.   “So what do you plan to do with all your knowledge? It’s pretty diverse.”

Chris doesn’t let her know he’s actually been looking over her school records on his phone for the last few minutes.  She’s a fuckin’ genius; and her areas of study as so eclectic.  Linguistics, history, literature…  He’s probably in the presence of one of the smartest women he’s ever met, yet she’s still so clueless about so many things.

“That is a damn good question,” she laughs, tossing her head back and slapping her thigh.  “Can’t really teach high school, can I?  I’d be bored in a week…  I don’t know,” she says thoughtfully.  “I’ve been approached by some of the top museums in the world to work as a curator and continue my archaeological work…  The problem is, I’m passionate about all of it.  If I do that, then I’m stuck in one field.  And I think I’d hate that ‘tied down’ feeling.”

Fuck.  His cock immediately perks up at her turn of phrase and the image that popped in his head.  He drops the water bottle ‘accidently’ and bends to retrieve it, hoping she doesn’t see the expression on his face.  Sitting back up, he can’t stop himself.  “Yeah, you being tied down would be awful.”

The eraser she throws bounces off the table and hits him in the cheek.  They both share in the laughter.

“You.  Just sit over there with your fantasies.  I’m working…”  The blush on her cheeks is endearing and he knows he should leave.  Soon.  “Oh damn.  You had a second thing.  What was it?”

His cheeks now turn pink and he leans forward, resting his arms on the table.  Inhaling deeply, the air is tight through his nose.  “Last night… You said it was ‘taken’ a long time ago.  You don’t mean-?”

“Oh, God no. No. Just some fumbling around in a back seat and not really knowing what the hell he was doing, or I was doing.  It was awful,” she chuckles, “But it’s the story of my life.  ‘I make rash decisions.’  And ‘I don’t know what I’m doing.’”

“I can teach you a few things,” Chris smiles, tapping his finger on the book.

The grin on her face is huge.  “I’m sure you can…  Now.  You promised to be quiet so I can work.  I hope you are a man of your word, Mister Evans.”

The two work in silence, chatting occasionally, well into the afternoon. Chris reads a bit more over her transcripts and finds notes from her research projects posted on some of the school study pages.  She’s an amazing talent and would be an asset to his team in the history department as they get ready to undergo some staff changes.  He contemplates what working with her would be like, but when images of bending her over his desk fill his head, he knows he’s had enough.

Rising from his seat, he cleans up the trash from the snack they’d had and moves to sit on the couch.  He doesn’t want to go home, and she seems in no hurry to make him leave.  Hugging a couch pillow to his chest, it smells like her.  His thoughts run back over the last few hours and he realizes his ex-wife still hasn’t called him back.  Guilt smashes him in the stomach as he realizes he’d totally forgotten his responsibilities the minute a pretty face and deadly curves turned his head…   Punching the pillow, he rolls to his side, preparing to nap when “God Save the Queen” starts to play on her phone.

She quickly answers it and he hears shuffling in the kitchen behind him.  “Hey, how are you?… Just a lazy Sunday.  A friend came over…. Yes, I have friends, you know,” she asserts playfully.

He freezes when he senses her hovering above him and he pretends to be asleep, not wanting her to think he’s listening.  Her hand graces the top of his head gently before she walks away.  When he hears her voice again, it’s muffled and coming from the bedroom.

“Sure, I can.  I’d love to!  What a nice surprise!   What time?  Ok… Anything else?  Yeah… Yes.   Alright.  I’m looking forward to it…. See you then.”

Chris realizes this is his cue to leave.  Fuck.  Thalia said ‘for reasons’ she and her other paramore, for lack of a better word, wish to keep things private.  He quickly prays she’s not dating a married man.  But it’s not his place to judge or ask.  From his spot on the couch, he realizes the apartment shows no signs of a man in her life, and he begins to question her need for privacy.  A sinking feeling sets in, and he sits up to put on his shoes.

The bathroom door closes and he waits anxiously for her to return to the living room.  When the door clicks open he turns to the dark haired beauty with a smile.  “Hey, I hate to do this Thalia, but I got a text from my ex and I can go see Avery for a few hours.  I really need to get going.”

Standing up he admires her lovely full lips as the bottom one pops out in disappointment.  “You have to go?  Well, then I guess it’s a good excuse.  Getting dumped for a younger woman already.  I see how you are.”

Moving into his space, she places her hand on his bicep, stepping closer to him.  Batting her eyelashes, she smiles crookedly.  “No, that’s great.  I’m glad you can see her.”

Her pout is irresistible.  He places his hand under her chin and with a bit of force he rubs his thumb across her tender lips.  “So beautiful…”  Holding her chin in place, he thwarts her physical effort to deny it.  “And I’m going to keep telling you that until you believe it.”  He leans his forehead to hers.  “I left my phone number on one of the post-its on the table earlier when you were deep in thought.  Text me in a bit so I make sure I have your number.”

Sliding his nose against hers, he plants his lips on hers and sucks in her air.  Minty fresh.  Pulling back, he whispers quietly.  “You brushed; not fair,” he complains.

“Sorry. Syrup breath was killing me… And you know,” she sighs, “I was gearing up for Four, but I guess we’ll have to start our count over again another night.”

“Four?”  He cocks his eyebrow pleased by her enthusiasm and stamina.  “I’ll hold you to that promise, babe.”  He remembers her secretive phone call, and moves to extract himself from her arms.

She follows him to the door and tells him she’ll text soon.

Walking down the stairs and across the street, he wonders again what the hell he’s doing.  She’s a student.  Young.  Dating someone else.  His damn Italian jealousy is already getting the best of him…

Reaching for his car keys in his pocket, his phone beeps.  He can’t contain his smile when he reads the message.  “Had a great night. Look up.”

Following directions, he shields his eyes from the sunlight peaking through the gray clouds, the smell of snow in the air.  Standing at her window she waves grandly and he laughs when she flashes him the two most resplendent breasts he’s ever had the pleasure of seeing.

Click here to read Chapter 18 Changes

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

 

Tutoring

ET ch 12 tutoring April 14 2017.jpg

Educating Thalia: Chapter 12

Collaboration by @devikafernando & @avenger-nerd-mom

AU FICTION

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

Warnings:  Language, Adult Situations, NSFW, Dom, Sub, safe words, binding, blindfolds, aftercare, delayed orgasms, cunnilingus, blow job, spanking, condom use, silk tie play, trust, lessons from Tom on making tea

Summary:  Tom and Thalia grow closer while spending the night together in Chicago, putting his Christmas present to good use and learning to make a proper British cup of tea.

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

Images used for this chapter were found on Pinterest

Word Count 5996

Click here for the intro to Educating Thalia

Tom inserts the key card and enters the room, with Thalia close on his heels and still holding his free hand.

He’s opted for a cozy double room this time, not a lavish suite, but he made sure before booking that the bathroom has a generous tub if his girl should want a repeat performance of their first night together.

Pulling Thalia to him, he nuzzles her hair.  “I’m glad, darling, we were able to spend the day together.  I enjoyed seeing your city through your eyes.  So many places to visit; it’s no wonder you grew up with a love for theater, history and culture.”

Thalia pushes back against him, taking his hand.  “Come here, you have to see something.”

Tom drops his bag and follows her to the window.  Pulling back the curtains, the beautiful city lights up in front of them as snow begins to fall and a lighted ship can be seen on the lake, bobbing along on the waves.  His arms wrap around her waist and she rests hers on his, running her fingertips along his leather watch band.  His pulse quickens at her light touch and he wonders if she has any idea how she makes him feel.

“I’ve never really seen the city from up high at night; it’s so beautiful,” she whispers, leaning forward to get a better view.

With her forehead pressed against the glass, he releases one hand from her grasp and sweeps her long hair over her shoulder.  “Not as beautiful as you,” he whispers in her ear, continuing to tug at her hair.

He can see the smile in her reflection on the cool glass.  Pursing her lips together, she quietly says, “It’s a lost cause.  The Chicago wind; my hair will be in knots for days.  I like…” she sighs, turning in his arms.  Playing with the buttons on his shirt collar, she looks up at him through her dark lashes.  “I like leaving it down for you to play with…”

His heart flips at her innocent admission.  Before he can speak, she makes another confession.  “You also look really good in plaid,” she giggles.  “It’s damn near pornographic.”

“Oh, really,” he taunts, a chill running through him as her fingertips light over his collarbone, dipping beneath his shirt collar.  Barely a whisper between them, he tells her, “I’ll have to remember that.”

“Entirely too sinful… I wouldn’t be able to concentrate in class-”

“I wouldn’t know anything about that.” His hand reaches behind her and gives a light squeeze on her ass.

They both laugh warmly at the ruined lesson the day she wore the plaid skirt to lecture, and the few times since they’d worn or said things in a veiled attempt to tease the other out in the open.

Standing in front of the window, he begins to sway with her gently in his arms as they look out over the city.  He tries to formulate the words that tickle at the back of his mind.  He opens his mouth several times, but closes it quietly, not knowing what to say and not wanting to say too much.

She giggles, gently shaking in his hold.  “Tom, just spit it out.  I can see your reflection in the glass and you look like a funny fish!”  She mimics him in the window and he has a good laugh with her.

Shaking his head, he begins, looking down on her glowing face, cheeks still slightly pink from the wind..  “Thalia, I didn’t come all this way to visit you out of sexual frustration.  I want you to know I truly missed you.  I’ll admit, dammit, I was miserable without you.  My favorite hiding places- my office, the library- they held no spark for me knowing you wouldn’t pop around the corner.  Do you understand, darling?”

Her eyes soften and a new expression fills them, something he’s not seen there before.  She licks her lips and he can see her pulse quicken.  A light blush crosses her face, darkening her freckles.  “I understand, Tom.  I… I felt the same.  I’ve missed you; the feel of your arms, the poetic lilt of your voice.  You calling me this morning?  That was the best Christmas present I’ve ever received.  I can’t repay that to you, but-”

“Darling, it’s not a give and take like that.  Just having you here with me now is enough.”  His hand slides up her curvy figure and his palm rests against her rapidly beating heart, his fingertips brushing gently along the gold necklace chain she wears.

In her low raspy tone she tells him quietly, “I guess I could confess something else to you, as a thank you for flying all the way out here to see me?”

“What’s that, Thalia?”  His own pulse echoes in his ears and he wonders what she has to share with him.  “You can always tell me anything.”

Her mouth  turns up into to a cocky grin and she bites at the corner of her lip.  “You once asked me if I pleasure myself while thinking of you?  Well, I’ve been missing you a lot, late at night-”

“Oh, fuck, Thalia,” he chuckles darkly, “then let’s get on with it, shall we?”

She throws her head back in laughter and the tension has a more playful feeling now, but Tom still intends to give her a lesson.  She has no idea what she does to him…

“I hope you aren’t suffering from an overdose of too many sinful experiences late at night and alone, are you darling?”

She snakes her arms around his waist and buries deeper into his embrace, shaking her head. Her words come out muffled against his chest.

“Not at all. As long as I share all the experiences with you.”

“Excellent.”

As much as he enjoys a simple hug as this, Tom draws back, flicking her chin up with his long fingers.

“Good, because I have another new experience waiting for you.”

She looks up at him, and something about the expression of utter trust in her face makes him feel ten feet tall. He steals a quick kiss before saying in a low voice full of sinful promises, “I’ve been dying to try out my Christmas present, you know?”

He sees her eyes widen, then darken when she remembers- their last night together before she left on break and the silk tie and their talk about alternative uses for it.

“Yes,” she says, her voice already breathy, and he can’t wait to see how far she will let him go today.

The air between them becomes charged with sexual energy and anticipation.

Cupping her face in one large hand, he holds her gaze intently.  “A few things first before we start playing. While we’re doing this, I’m in control. You do what I say. You don’t ask any questions, unless you need clarification of what you’re supposed to do. If you address me, you’ll call me sir. Understood?”

Her tongue sneaks out to wet her lips. She nods, then remembers earlier instructions and adds a breathy, yet somewhat confident, “yes”.

He can feel her pulse throb against his fingers and he knows his heart is racing just the same. God, how has he deserved a woman like this? She’s a true gift, and he intends to treasure her for as long as she lets him.

“I’m not going to do anything you don’t like, so please don’t be scared, darling. I’m giving you the safe word ‘chocolate’. If you want me to stop something I’m doing or you ever feel uncomfortable at any point, you say the word clearly once, and I’ll take that as a signal to stop immediately.”

Thalia shivers, and he caresses her gently, trying to ease her nerves.  “Do we really need a safe word, Tom?”

Fear in her dark eyes, he worries he’s frightened her.

“I promise, I won’t hurt you or be too rough, nothing I don’t think you’ll enjoy.  It’s just a precaution…” His voice is tender and soft, to alleviate her concerns, but switches back to a controlling sound to finish his thought.  “What’s your safe word, darling?”

She sighs, working her lip over and he can feel her fingers nervously fidgeting with a fold on the back of his shirt where her hands rest around his waist.  “Chocolate.”

“Exactly. It’s your right to use it whenever things become too much. But I just want to tell you that you shouldn’t use it too liberally. This is all about new experiences. I want to educate you and guide you. So even if something might strike you as strange or daring, give it a chance first and see because you might enjoy it. Okay?”

She pulls herself tall in his arms, creating a confidence, making up her mind to turn herself over to another lesson at his hands.

“Yes, sir.”

Jesus, they haven’t even started yet and she’s got him hard.  She’s so stunning in the dark light, with the city glowing behind her, and he’s proud of her resolve.

“We won’t try anything too forward today,” he adds because he wants her to enjoy this and not panic.  And as he’s told her, he isn’t into the hardcore stuff anyway.  To prove he wants this to be fun, he nips playfully at her neck, eliciting a light squeak from the back of her throat.

“Yes, sir, I trust you.”  She nods, her curls bouncing and her pulse leaping.

“Good girl. Let your man show you how much fun a bit of playing can be.”

He lets her face go and grabs hold of her hand to pull her towards the bed.

“Strip for me, love.”

A little less shyly than the first time, Thalia removes her clothes one by one, holding eye contact.

Tom licks his lips and takes deep breaths. He doesn’t move from his spot until she has stepped out of her white panties, the innocence of them contrasting tantalizingly with her actions.

He steps out of his shoes, impatience raising its head inside him.

“Now be a darling and help me out of my clothes.”

She comes forward eagerly and removes his jacket before unbuttoning his plaid shirt. When her fingers brush lingeringly over his pecs, he grabs her wrist.

“No touching. Not yet. Just remove my clothes.”

“Yes, sir.”

She undoes the rest of the buttons and slides the shirt off, followed by the navy T-shirt he’s wearing beneath it. Tom shifts obediently this way and that, pleased that she’s sticking to the rules so far. His pants are next, and her fingers shake slightly while she opens the belt.

Slowly, she pushes the button through its hole, then lowers the zipper over the beginning bulge. Her hands falter and her eyes shoot up when she discovers that he’s been going commando.

Thalia opens her mouth to say something, but a warning lift of his eyebrow reminds her that she’s supposed to be silent. Tom watches with a smirk how she eyes his hardening cock with longing but keeps her hands to herself. He can tell whatever she wants to say is just killing her and he’ll have to ask later.

She lowers his pants all the way down to his feet, squatting in the process. Tom steps out of them and removes his socks, then pulls her up with him.

“The tie is under the left pillow. Be a good girl and bring it to me.”

His voice has automatically taken on a deeper timbre, a low growl full of authority.

He enjoys the view of her round ass when she walks to the bed, bends and retrieves the tie. The shiny silk with its mesmerizing color pattern of blue, purple and pink gleams in the light. Thalia is holding it in both hands, carefully carrying it like a breakable glass on a tray.

Tom takes it, gliding his fingers over it in a caress that has her suck in a breath. He plays with the length of it, watching her eyes follow the movement as if hypnotized by the sight.

“One day,” he says softly, “I’ll have you tie it for me before a party or retie it during the event, your fingers tugging and stroking it. And we’ll both remember what purpose it served before I wore it.”

He leans in for a kiss, snaking his tongue past her lips and feeling a little of the tension leave her body.

“Do you trust me?”

Her answer is immediate. “Yes…sir.”

“Perfect. Turn around and close your eyes.”

She does as told, swallowing hard. When he lifts the tie to her forehead and places it over her eyes instead of looping it around her wrists, she starts.

“But I thought…”

“Be quiet, pet.” He makes his voice stern, enjoying her surprise. As a warning for her to be obedient, he presses an open-mouthed kiss to the nape of her neck and sinks his teeth into her skin, hard enough to send a jolt of pain through her and mark her.

Then he returns to tying the blindfold, making sure with a few tugs that the knots are neither too tight nor too loose.

“Is this painful for you?”

“No, sir.” She sounds a little out of breath and nervous again, but her voice also carries the huskiness it adopts when she’s aroused.

“Can you see anything?”

“No, sir.”

God, it’s tempting to kiss and caress her now, maybe press his lips to every knob and indent of her spine before scraping his teeth over the small of her back and over those gorgeous globes.

But he has other plans for her, so he restricts himself to licking the spot he’s just bitten and then blowing cool air onto it. Goose bumps rise on her skin.

He inhales the flowery scent of her hair, the unique fragrance of her skin, mingling with a hint of crisp silk cloth.

“Turn around again.”

A little wobbly and off balance, Thalia turns to face him, and something about her blindfolded with his tie makes his cock twitch in anticipation.

Fuck, she looks hot like this, submissive but not too different, and definitely not uncomfortable.

“Touch me,” he commands, his voice rough. “Your sense of touch will be enhanced because you can’t rely on your eyes. I want you to run your hands all over my body and explore me as you’ve never done before.”

It takes all of his self-control not to haul her close for a kiss or fondle her breasts with their hardened tips when she starts caressing him. Her movements are tentative at first, hovering uncertainly at his shoulders. But she grows bolder with every ragged breath, her fingertips and palms traveling over his clavicles and his pecs, molding the ridges of his abs.

Emboldened by how intensely she must be feeling things and by the novelty of it all, she takes her time and really does explore him. Her nails graze over his nipples, making him moan. She glides her fingertips through the sparse hair on his chest and lower through the hints of happy trail leading south.

Fanning her hands outward, she explores his Adonis belt, tracing a vein down. Instead of moving lower, she touches his arms next, fingertips digging into his biceps when he flexes them. Her touch flutters over his wrists and palms. Interestingly, she explores his face next, studying him like a blind woman would to guess what he looks like. Her fingers brush over his high forehead and sharp cheekbones, linger on his mouth when he parts his lips and lets her seek out his teeth and tongue.

When she moves her hands to his waist and then back, wandering lower to cup his firm ass, Tom shivers in delight. Their bodies are pressed flush against each other, and it’s heaven and hell rolled into one. He grits his teeth to keep himself still, battling the need to really touch her and focuses on the subtle changes in expression on her face instead.

“On your knees,” he orders.

Thalia lowers herself unsteadily and reaches out to caress his thighs, trailing inwards to his balls, which she cups softly.

He hisses in a breath through his teeth, tensing when her fingertips massage the tender flesh and she rolls them slowly.

Probably unconsciously, her tongue wets her lips, as if she wants to run not just her hands but also her mouth all over him.

Fuck, he needs more.

With one hand at the back of her hair, half holding onto the tie’s knot and onto her hair, Tom keeps her in place.

“Open your mouth.”

Clenching his jaw, he shifts his hips a fraction so the head of his rock-hard cock brushes against her lips.

“Now explore me with your mouth.” It’s almost more of a plea than a command, and he can’t hold back a groan at the first slick of her tongue over him.

She licks away a bead of pre-come before sucking softly. Tom holds her head in place and drives his hips forward and back, sinking into the welcoming warmth of her mouth with agonizing slowness. Inch by inch, he lets her take more of him in, and it’s almost too much to handle.

Without waiting for his order, Thalia begins to lick and suck in earnest, and he can feel it in every cell of his body, the fierce longing to let go.

After a few more minutes of this sweet torture, he orders gruffly, “Stop.”

She obeys, but with a delay. Too turned on to remember punishing her, Tom yanks her up again and devours her mouth in a heady kiss that has them both moaning, biting and licking furiously.

He picks her up and half-throws her on the bed where she bounces, breasts heaving and begging for attention.

He wastes no time hunting for a condom in his wallet, tossing it onto the sheet before joining her on the bed. Crawling over her so he can cover her body with his, Tom lets her feel some of his weight.

“How was it for you?” he asks, barely able to form a rational thought and control his vocal chords.  “Did you feel everything more intensely?”

“Yes… Yes, sir.”

“Excellent. Now feel this.”

He slithers down and buries his face between her luscious thighs, wasting no time in working her up into a frenzy with his talented mouth.

“Oh God, unh… ugh, fuck…” Before long, Thalia is whimpering and shouting profanities, her inability to see heightening the sensations.

Tom pauses to reach up and tweak a nipple. “Quiet, girl, or I’ll stop and leave you hanging again while I pleasure myself and come all over your helpless body! No sounds, remember?”

She nods frantically, biting her lip.

“And you’re not allowed to come until I tell you to, understand?”

When there’s only desperate and very muffled keening, he holds down her bucking hips while pinching the nipple harder. “Understand?”

“Y-yesss, sir.”

“That’s my girl.”

He licks again, alternating between using the tip of his tongue and the broad flat of it, teasing and stroking. Pursing his lips around her clit, he sucks softly, which draws an animalistic sound from her.

He slows down a fraction, keeping her at the brink but not allowing her to jump off the cliff and drown into bliss.

Licking her delicious taste from his mouth, Tom moves up again. He holds her head and fumbles behind it, finally untying the silky fabric so he can stare into her beautiful dark eyes.

“More?”

Her hips still lifting and circling, she nods frantically.

“Yes. God yes, please, sir.”

Tom grins at her, frankly surprised that he hasn’t fucked her raw by this time because she’s so freaking delectable like this.

He shifts, crooking a finger at her.

“Sit up tall with your back turned to me and your lovely ass resting on your feet.”

Thalia moves as if in a trance, her whole body flushed and sweaty.

When she’s in the right position, he gives his next order. “Arms back, wrists together.”

Again, she reacts eagerly, her thighs pressing together to alleviate the ache between her legs.

“Good girl,” he praises her in a deep low tone, before giving her another love bite on the sensitive juncture between her neck and shoulder.

Her whimper travels straight to his cock, and he hurriedly wraps the tie around her wrists, tugging experimentally.

“Not too tight?”

“N-no, sir.”

He grabs and positions her as he wants, with her body braced on her knees and leaning forward and her ass in the air. The sight is so goddamn pretty that he can’t resist. In quick succession, he slaps both cheeks, hearing her choke on a needy drawn-out sound that’s more animal than human.

Alternating between displays of dominance and tenderness, Tom makes sure her head rests comfortably and she can breathe. He grabs the condom and sheaths himself, his hands shaking because he wants her so much. Wrapping a fistful of her hair around one hand, Tom tips her head back to whisper into her ear.

“Do you want me to take you like this, like the naughty girl you are?”

He rubs himself against her wetness, coating himself in the slick juices so he won’t hurt her.

“Hm? Do you want me to fill you so thoroughly that you think I’ve become one with you? Fuck you so hard that the guests on the whole floor will know I’m treating you well?”

Thalia moans incoherently.

“I’m afraid I can’t hear you. What was that?” He nips at her earlobe.

“Yeees.”

“Yes what, my pet? Tell your man what you want and he’ll give it to you.”

She fights for breaths and for her voice, trembling with need against him. “Please, sir, please take me like this. Make me come. Make me scream.”

Fuck, that’s hot.

Tom shifts and nudges her legs wider apart, settling on his knees behind her and giving her engorged clit a pinch that has her arch up with a mewling sound.

“You want it all?”

“Yes, sir, please.”

With one thrust, he sheaths himself fully in her, hissing at the tightness. God, it’s like he’s died and gone to heaven.

Thalia shouts, tightening around him in a vice-like grip that has him clench his jaw so hard it’s painful. When he slowly pulls out only to press himself inside to the hilt again, her shout turns into a guttural moan. He can see her body struggling to keep balance, can see her bound hands flex uselessly in search of something to hold on to.

Tom begins rocking into her, not as hard and fast as he’d like it because he’s a lot to take even with her state of arousal. From behind, he fits so incredibly well it’s as if they were built for one another.

He grabs her hip, fingers digging so deep that he’ll leave bruises. With his free hand on the back of her neck, he keeps her still while he pounds into her with all he has.

It doesn’t take her long to convulse around him, high-pitched keening telling him she’s close. Moving the hand around and letting it glide down the front of her body, he pinches a nipple before traveling lower and rubbing her slippery clit in tight circles.

Thalia arches up wildly and grows absolutely still, coming so violently around his cock that she can’t even make any noises. Tom follows close behind, feeling her milk him for all his worth.

As soon as he can somehow force breath into his lungs, he straightens and unties her wrists.

Massaging them tenderly, he peppers her back with kisses.

“Are you alright, darling?”

“Never been better,” comes the weak reply after a moment, and they both have to chuckle at that.

Tom turns and embraces her, shifting so they lie side by side and he can get a good look at her face.

tom and thalia.gif

“Enough new experiences for today?” he asks softly, brushing a strand of hair off her sweaty forehead.

She smiles, reminding him oddly of a sated and contently purring cat.

“Yea,” she giggles.  “You wore me out.”  Caressing across his brow with her thumb, she sighs contentedly.

#

Tom steps out of the shower and grabs a towel to dry himself off. His early-morning run has invigorated him – but truth be told, he knows that his good mood is mostly Thalia’s fault. This stolen day in Chicago with her has been a blessing. And he notices a subtle change in their relationship. More trust. They weren’t really the professor and his student yesterday, they were almost two normal people dating.

His blood heats at the memory of their tie play. God, she’s the hottest woman he’s ever met.

Starting to dry his hair, Tom walks into the room only to stop and admire her.

Thalia didn’t wake up when he snuck out for his run earlier, and she’s still asleep. The sheet has shifted with her movement, exposing one long, thick leg and part of her delicious curves. Her gorgeous curls are spread out on the pillow in tangles, giving her a certain wild look.

Tossing the towel aside, Tom prowls closer and slowly tugs the sheet further down. He licks his lips at the sight of her full breasts, remembering them bounce. There are faint bruises on them and on her waist where he’s sucked and bitten a little too hard, and his cock stirs at the sight of how he’s marked her.

She’s his.

And he’s hers too, even if he’s reluctant to admit that to himself. She’s wiggled her way into his life and now she’s as essential to it as his meals.

Banishing further thought, Tom leans over and shakes himself like a dog so that his wet hair sends water drops flying over her naked body.

She grunts and moves restlessly, one arm flinging out to the side. With a chuckle, he rubs his curly hair against her belly and nuzzles her breasts, spreading cool wetness over her skin.

With a small yelp, she jerks upright, hands automatically trying to fend him off.

Now laughing outright, Tom crawls on top of her and captures her wrists in his hands.

“Good morning, sleepyhead. I never knew orchids need so much time until they can bloom again.”

She reacts with a half-hearted eye-roll and a stifled yawn.

“Morning,” she grumbles. “You’re already up and showered?”

He nods. “Just came back from a run, actually, while you were lost in beauty sleep. Not that you need it, as you’re beautiful enough already.”

A blush begins to rise while she mutters, “You’re much too chirpy for this time of the day. Get your morning cheerfulness away from me.”

Tom grins and licks a few water drops from her breast, deliberately avoiding her nipples.

“Adorable. But I won’t tolerate slovenly behavior, Miss Bareo.” Shifting so he can sit up, he keeps her wrists in one hand while he moves the other to draw circles around a nipple, watching it pebble.

With a sound that reminds him of a purr, Thalia stretches beneath him. She drags her gaze to the alarm clock on the nightstand and gasps. “Oh, it’s much later than I thought.”

He dips and gives the now hard bud a tender suck, which instantly makes her focus on him again.

“I guess I wore you out last night, hm?” he asks with the lift of an eyebrow.

Her blush deepens, but a sassy look enters her eyes. “If I said yes, will that convince you that I need to be pampered with a 5-star breakfast?”

Tom throws his head back, his carefree ehehehe causing her to giggle too.

“As if I needed any convincing whatsoever when it comes to breakfast.”

He grows serious momentarily, trailing his free hand down to brush ever so softly over her thighs and center.

“Are you feeling sore, darling?”

She sobers and wriggles experimentally. The slightest grimace flickers on her face, gone in an instant.

“A little?”

Tom places gentle kisses around her belly button.

“Sore in a good way, I hope?”

She smiles, and it lights his whole heart. God, he’s fallen for her so hard it’s not even funny anymore.

“In the best way.”

Telling his interested cock to calm down, he forces himself off her.

“Go and refresh yourself, love. Then we’ll have that breakfast. But before that, there’s something I want to do.”
Interest widens her eyes as she wraps the sheet around herself and rises to go to the bathroom.

Before she reaches the door, he calls out to her.  “Oh, Thalia.  Last night, when you undressed me, you were dying to say something, love; what was it?”

With a flounce she stops and turns to him, laughter bubbling from her.  “I was just thinking about you being commando all day in the biting Chicago cold.  I almost felt sorry for you,” she giggles and disappears behind the door.

Bubbling with laughter himself, Tom makes the bed half-heartedly and paces the room, practically bouncing with energy when she returns a while later, still clutching the sheet.

“Only your panties and bra,” he commands softly when she bends for her clothes.

Thalia huffs, but she knows better now than to argue.

Taking her hand, he leads her to the far side of the room and points to the table.

“Pay attention now, Miss Bareo, I’m going to introduce you to the art of making proper English tea.”

She giggles, biting her lip when he shoots her a mock-reproachful glare.

“Yes, sir, certainly, sir,” she says in her most obedient tone, and he’s seriously tempted to ditch this and explore some more naughty roleplaying with her.

But he does take his tea seriously, so…

“Now,” he holds up a finger, using his lecturing voice although he can’t help grinning a little, “the most important thing by far is to choose the correct tea. But we’re sadly lacking in choice here, so the one they provide will have to do. I usually prefer Earl Grey or breakfast tea. And tea leaves would be even better than bags, but never mind that now.”

She nods, watching him grab a tea bag.

“Next, the water.” He holds out the kettle and motions for her to go and fill it while explaining, “Using old or coldish water in the kettle can result in scummy, scaly tea. So always boil it freshly.”

“Yessir.” Thalia salutes, which earns her a slap on a butt cheek.

“Behave. Tea is almost sacred for a true Englishmen.”

She quirks a brow at him. “Oh, is that why I’m supposed to make it half-naked? Wait, wait, wouldn’t that be a sacrilege of sorts then?”

With a feigned growl of anger, Tom plants a firm kiss on her mouth. It shuts her up for the moment, though the playful gleam in her eyes stays.

“Okay. Next step. If you want to make tea in a teapot, warm the teapot with hot water first , and then add one teabag per person. This ensures that your tea will stay hot longer. But we’re using two mugs with a tea bag each. The water really needs to be boiling when you pour it, simple hot water won’t free all the aromas.”

They wait for the water to boil, Tom allowing himself to be distracted by her fingers combing through her hair.

“Right. Now pour the water into the mug and stir briefly.”

He watches her do as told, displaying the same quiet concentration he is so familiar with from her studies.

“Now we let it brew for around two minutes.” Tom pulls her in closer, his hands always hungry for her skin. He caresses her waist and the small of her back, oddly happy to be standing here with her and making tea.

They share a smile.

“Ready. Remove the tea bag now,” he instructs.

Thalia does so, yelping in surprise when he clamps his hand around her wrist.

“No, don’t squeeze the bag. It’ll just make the taste bitter.”

“Yeesh, Tom, you really do take this far too seriously,” she complains half-heartedly while dumping the soggy bags into the bin.

“And now, oh maestro of the British tea culture?”

He pinches her waist softly, motioning to the condiments.

“Now it’s time for milk and sugar. And none of that low-fat nonsense for me.”

He drops some sugar in, making sure she’s watching. Then he takes her hand and helps her add milk slowly, controlling the amount.

“You need to watch for the right colour, darling. The perfect cup of tea will have a dark orange-brown look once the milk has been added and stirred. Too little or too much will totally throw the taste off balance.”

She rolls her eyes again, which earns her a second slap on her ass, this one stinging enough to make her pout.

Tom leans in to kiss the pout off her lips.

“Done…but not totally,” he announces. “Now we’ll let it rest for around four minutes until it’s the perfect drinking temperature.”

He takes a whiff of the fragrant steam rising, and she does the same.

“Catch that slightly fruity undertone?”

She nods. “Yes, what is it?”

“It’s a pinch of bergamot that is added to Earl Grey tea. Usually we should really celebrate the tea with some digestive biscuits or jaffa cake.”

“Oh, I remember that one,” she half-squeals, eyes instantly lighting up at the mention of food. “My roommate in London made me try jaffa cake. That mix of chocolate and orange was perfect.”

Tom gives her a joyful smile. “Ah, a girl after my own heart.”

He grabs his mug. “Now come and sit on my lap while I enjoy my morning cuppa. Repeat my instructions back to me. If you get them right, I’ll treat you to a spectacular breakfast.”

#

Trying to give her the privacy she deserves for her phone call, Tom places his earbuds in his ears while he checks over his flight information to return home the next day.  He shouldn’t have been concerned.  Her whole conversation is in Spanish, and he finally realizes she’s talking to her father.  Listening as the words roll from her tongue fluently he eavesdrops as she tells her father about enjoying a day on the town with a friend.  He can detect her father’s worry she didn’t return home when she sweetly reminds him she’s an adult and can be trusted in her decisions.  He keeps his head low as she watches him from across the room, blushing lightly when she explains to her father in her native tongue of Spanish, “He’s special dad, and you’d really like him, but it’s too soon in the relationship to meet family.”  His air of indifference holds until his laughter bursts out when she raises her voice to her father, shouting with frustration in Spanish, “God, yes we use condoms; I’m not stupid!”

Her head jerks to him and she blushes, shaking her head.  Ending the call quickly, she says defiantly.  “Shit, I should have known you were fluent… The way you roll your damn tongue,” she winks.  Sighing, she finishes.  “Dad’s a little old-fashioned; he gets I’m not a virgin, but he likes to meet my boyfriends.  He hates I went to school so far away from home, but it was the best choice for my studies… I know we’re a little non-traditional, you and I, so I’m not expecting you to meet my parents.”

He nods, crossing the room to her and hugging her close.  Meeting her parents and all a relationship should entail for a young woman…  Damn, he chides himself for the hundredth time, what am I doing?  Pressing his lips to the top of her head, he decides to set his thoughts aside for his solitary return trip home.

“Which museum shall we hit today darling?”

Click here to read Chapter 13, Alone

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

Chicago

ET ch 11 april 12.pngChicago: Chapter 11

Educating Thalia

Collaboration by @devikafernando & @avenger-nerd-mom

AU FICTION

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

Warnings:  Language, Adult Situations, sightseeing, FOOD PORN, cuteness overload, PLAID PORN, innocent making out

*****SUSPEND REALITY- we know it’s not possible to see ALL these attractions in one day. This is what happens when a German girl living in Sri Lanka has never BEEN to Chicago!******

Word Count 2652

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

Click here to the beginning of Educating Thalia

Tom feels as if he’s entered into a parallel universe or discovered an alter ego of his. It isn’t just the clothes, though he does feel different in his red-and-blue plaid shirt and black jeans. He’s picked the shirt because it looked awfully comfortable and because he couldn’t get the image of Thalia with her cowboy boots out of his head. To brace himself against the biting cold, he’s wearing a navy T-shirt beneath the shirt and a quilted navy coat with a zip. He had half a mind to go for cowboy boots himself, but part of him was scared he’d just look like an idiotic wanna-be Yankee mixed with a stiff Englishman. So he opted for his go-to solution, the well-worn grey suede shoes that he loves to combine with basically any casual or even semi-formal outfit.

Thalia has already glanced at the plaid shirt more than once, and the approval in her eyes – turning to quite a lot more than interest when he opens a few buttons in the toasty warm museum – feels like a soothing caress. It makes him feel more at ease, ready to let her play tour guide and boss him around a little.

Since they have embarked on this journey through the city, she’s been pointing out landmarks and sharing little snippets that he stores away in a corner of his knowledge-hungry brain for future reference.

The museum is amazing. The building itself caught his attention when he Googled things to see in the city, with its imposing reddish brown façade and half-round side wing full of windows. He listens happily to Thalia sharing some backstory while they make their way inside. Tom chuckles at the way she occasionally bumps him as they move through the holiday crowds.  They’re walking close enough for their hands to brush, and on an impulse, he laces his fingers with hers.

She shoots him a glance and lowers her lashes, smiling.

He doesn’t want to let go of Thalia’s hand, and she seems just as happy to let him hold it. Off and on, they look at each other instead of the exhibits, and it feels like a real date, with all the cares in the world a million miles away. She’s wearing warm black tights with a denim skirt. To match his outfit–which he’d revealed with a spur-of-the-moment selfie to prove to himself as much as her that he really was in Chicago–she’s also opted for a plaid shirt, hers in different shades of blue that match her skirt and coat. And of course, her trusty cowboy boots make today’s outfit complete.

Once they’ve had their history fill in general, Thalia enthusiastically pulls him aside to show him one of the world’s largest costume collections. Tom entertains her by imagining little tales for the astonishing historical clothes on display, and they get quite a bit of side eye from other visitors for all their whispering and laughing.

They round off the experience with a hearty brunch at the café on the ground floor.

Pushing his chair back from the table, Tom asks, “What now?” glowing with an overdose of happiness that is partly museum-induced, partly food-induced and most definitely Thalia-induced.

He can’t find words for how wonderful it is to share these magical moments with her, away from the whole professor-and-student sword that’s usually dangling over their heads.

Thalia drinks the last of her coffee. “Well, I’m pretty sure you did all your touristy homework and have figured out a whole list of things you are planning to tick off. Am I right or am I right?”

Tom throws his head back and guffaws. “You know me entirely too well, darling.”

With a flourish, he pulls an actual list out of his pocket, grinning at her exaggerated eye roll. He smoothes the crinkled paper out on the table.

When Thalia leans closer to get a good look, he acts on instinct again and kisses her. It’s hardly more than a gentle peck, though he deepens it a little when her lips part, delighting in her sweet sigh. He lets the tip of his tongue brush over her full lips before pulling back.

The look of surprise and joy on her face momentarily lets his mood nose-dive. This, this right there is what she should have. A man who can date her, take her out and spoil her properly. A man who devotes all of his time to her and who will march right into that house and face her family bravely because he intends to stick with her through thick and thin.

Determined not to let the real world burst his giddy bubble, Tom slides a finger down the list.

“Which item can you recommend?”

She concentrates, her forehead puckering in a slight frown. As usual, she’s willing to dedicate 100% of herself into whatever needs doing, whether it’s studies or showing a secret lover around town.

“The Adler Planetarium is amazing,” she says thoughtfully, tugging on a strand of hair until he pulls it out of her grip and curls it around his fingers. “Their Sky Theater offers you virtual-reality trips through space and time which are seriously mind boggling. And if you’re really lucky, you can meet one of the top-notch researchers who are responsible for the museum.”

“Oh, tempting.” Tom can feel himself getting all bouncy in his seat again, which reminds him of his sister Emma always telling him he’s somehow managed to trap a five year old in an adult’s body.

“The Museum of Science and Industry is another of my favorites,” she adds. “It’s got a restored U-505 German submarine, a simulated coal mine and a vintage diesel-electric train. Lots of action instead of only dusty exhibits.”

“Can’t we do both? I promise to keep my enthusiasm mostly bottled up and move quickly through all the halls.” Tom gives her his best puppy dog look, which makes her laugh and swat his arm none too gently.

“You’re a pain in the ass, Tom.”

She hasn’t called him Professor Hiddleston once today, and although it’s a turn-on to hear her do so, he’s rather glad because he wants to be plain Tom here.

Unable to resist temptation, he slides a hand to her knee and toys with the hem of her skirt while leaning close enough to speak into her ear. “As far as I recall, I haven’t been allowed close enough to your ass yet to cause any pain, other than the occasional light spanking. But if you feel inclined to change that…”

She makes a squeaky sound and knocks his hand off her leg, wagging a finger at his fit of giggles. “I swear, if you keep that up, I’ll happily let my family torture me again and leave you to your own devices in big, mean Chicago.”

But her eyes dance merrily, and she holds her hand out to him when she gets up from the chair.

“Now stop acting like a teenager, we’ve got two items to cross off your list.”

“Darling, I have a mental list you should consider sometime as well then.”

Her eyes grow wide as his words sink in and he throws his head back in laughter, quickly clearing their table before wrapping his arm around her shoulder to make their exit.

#

They visit both the Museum of Science and Industry at Hyde Park and the Adler Planetarium with its domed roof that reminds Tom a little of a study trip to Berlin in Germany, several years ago. By the time they are done, Thalia grumbles good-naturedly about wearing holes into the soles of her boots, and Tom is bouncing with another energy boost because the thought of trying out local food is so tempting.

“Don’t laugh, love, but I’m hungry again.  What do you recommend?” he asks. “I’m starving and I want to try absolutely everything Chicago is famous for.”

Thalia gives him another of her eye rolls, hooking her arm through his to pull him to a bus stop.

“Oh my god, that metabolism of yours!  I’m jealous!” She shakes her head in disbelief.  “Well, Chicago IS famous for food, so brace yourself for the experience of a lifetime.”

She holds up her free hand, counting off on her fingers, “We have deep-dish pizza, which is pure heaven and I haven’t found any like it out East. There’s the Chicago-style hot dog with all the fixings… And all sorts of high-end cuisine stuff if you think it’s below your gentleman status to eat what everyone does.”

Tom snickers and gives her butt a light slap. “I’ve heard about the hot dogs, actually. Weren’t they a result of the Great Depression?” She nods and he continues. “What’s on them?”

“My favorite is just the standard version, with an all-beef hot dog on a steamed poppy seed bun. It’s topped with yellow mustard, relish, tomato wedges, chopped onions, pickle, hot peppers and celery salt.”

With a groan, he pulls her closer. “Okay, I need one of these like I need air to breathe. Lead the way, oh heroic, merciful tour guide, and prevent my death of starvation.”

They take the bus and end up at Portillo’s, googling its impressive history and success story while waiting for the food.

Stuffed with hot dogs, but still drooling over their dessert of strawberry shortcake and chocolate éclair cake, they manage small talk between bites.

“So, haven’t seen much of the US since you arrived here?” Thalia inquires after he’s fed her with a forkful of chocolatey delight.

“No, haven’t had the time yet.” Tom lets her feed him in return, staring into her eyes while suggestively licking his lips, pleased to see her hand wobble a little. “I’ve been around the world a bit, though.”

“Oh, tell me more.”

He shrugs modestly. “Mostly Europe during my youth. Spain, France, Italy, Russia. A couple of years ago, I accompanied some colleagues to Germany.”

“What about the rest of Britain? Or do the English make it a point to snobbishly ignore their neighbors?”

He wagged his fork at her and relishes his last bite before answering. “I visited Scotland with my father once. And my mother took my sisters and me to Ireland when we were still young.”

His face clouds over momentarily at memories of a childhood that had been anything but easy but was mixed with enough happy incidents to not bother him too much now. At least he hadn’t carried any serious scars of his parents’ divorce over into adulthood…though he should probably rethink his rules on relationships.

“Oh, and I flew to India for my sister’s wedding,” he adds with a smile, deliberately pulling himself back to the presence. “That was just…surreal and truly beautiful.”

Thalia smiles back at him and entwines her fingers with his when he reaches for her hand.

“And you?” he wants to know. “You’ve got the whole world waiting for you. Where do you want to go?”

She screws up her face in thought, as if there’s too much to consider.

“Everywhere,” she answers with a laugh.  “I’ve got to finish my degree, but fortunately it could take me all the places I could never afford to go on my own.  I’ve applied to internships in Paris, Cairo, Athens and Rome for museum work and archeological digs.  I’m just waiting each day for the right phone call.  There’s a box of dusty clothes ready to go in the back of the closet, aching for more dig dirt,” she jokes.

Tom leans forward and caresses her cheek with his other hand, scooting his chair closer to hers and resting his leg against hers.  “I hate the idea of you being so far away.”

Her head drops, her hair falling around her, but her blush is unmistakeable. She seems at a loss for words and it endears her even more to him. Dammit, Thomas. This trip was the best worst idea ever…

She grabs the ticket from the table and the two tussle over who will pay the bill. Tom insists that she’s already playing tour guide so he absolutely must pacify his inner gentleman by paying for lunch.

“Fine… But I’d like you to let me take care of you sometimes too, I’m not totally broke you know.”  His scowl changes her thought and she forges on.  “What’s next on your list, Mister?” Thalia wants to know, still pouting at her defeat.

“You know what, why don’t you suggest something?” He smiles at her. “As I said before, today’s in your hands, bills excluded.”

She smiles back. “Millennium Park is kind of a no-brainer, despite the weather. Want to give it a go?”

“Sure, that’s where the Bean is, right?!”

She laughs at his enthusiasm, bundling up to brave the cold Chicago air. They make it there in no time, discovering that a lot of people are bracing the cold to get photos in front of the iconic Cloud Gate sculpture with its metallic bean form and cloud-reflecting surface. Tom takes a few selfies with Thalia, debating with himself whether to share these lovely memories with his family or not, and deciding against it with a heavy heart.

As happy as he is today, he keeps realizing one thing that obscures his inner sunshine momentarily: In a world with less prejudice, Thalia and he would make a great couple. But as things are, a normal relationship is out of the question and not something either of them is ready for anyway. He knows he should wish for her to have someone else to share such joyous moments with—but he doesn’t. He wants her to himself for a bit longer at least.  They take their own sweet time, walking the city streets, giggling and window shopping, dragging out their stolen moment together.

Close to evening, Thalia takes him up on the 360 Chicago, formerly known as the John Hancock Observatory where the 94th floor – 1,000 feet up – offers a view for miles and miles, across four states. They dine up there at the restaurant, and again Tom can’t resist doing all the little things proper couples should. He feeds her and teases her, touches her as much as he can, asks her personal questions and stores away each morsel of information as if his life might one day depend on the right answer.

“Tom, I’ve had a wonderful day.  I hate to see it end, but I really should be getting back home.  There’s a train switch and I don’t want to miss it.”  Her eyes glisten in the low light of the restaurant. Her tone is wistful and tells him what he wishes to know.

Taking her hand in his across the table he runs his thumb over the back of her hand.  “Thalia, darling, if you’re willing to risk it with your family, I’d love for you to stay with me tonight.”

Her eyes search his, search his face, looking for what, he doesn’t know. She brushes a floppy curl from his forehead and runs her thumb across his scarf, and he leans into her touch, craving more. Slowly her grin turns up. “Let me make a call to my stepmother. She’ll know how to soothe things over with Dad.”

#

Nestled in the warmth of the back seat of the cab, Tom is pleasantly surprised when Thalia takes the initiative to kiss him, at first unsure and timid.  He tugs on her scarf, pulling her closer and acknowledging his need.  Her hand grips his thigh as the kisses grow more heated.  He bites back a chuckle at the cab driver watching in the rearview mirror while they make out like two lusty teenagers.  The ride is entirely too short and by the time they make it to the hotel, he wants nothing more than to lose himself inside her and forget the rest of the world.

Click here for Chapter 12 Tutoring

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

Rescue Mission

ET ch 10 april 9 2017.jpg

Rescue Mission Chapter 10

Educating Thalia

Collaboration by @devikafernando & @avenger-nerd-mom

AU FICTION

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

Word count: 3352

Warnings:  Language, Adult Situations, Fluff

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

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

Click here to the beginning of Educating Thalia

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Her reply is almost instant.

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

With a chuckle, he settles down more comfortably.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s very you.

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

This might be a bit weird, but…

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

Would you Skype with me?

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

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

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

He gets a thumbs up and her username in reply.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So, what on earth…” “What were you…”

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

“What were you doing?” Thalia asks.

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s the matter, darling?”

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

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

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

Rubbing her temple, she searches for the right words.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Her words tug at him, loosening something inside.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So, no plans for today?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Silence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Click here to read Chapter 11, Chicago

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

Lecture Lust

ET ch 4.jpg

Educating Thalia, Chapter 4

Collaboration by @devikafernando & @avenger-nerd-mom

Word count 2056

Warnings: Language, Adult Situations, thoughts of sexual situations, flirtations

Click here for the story page to read all the chapters in the novella,Educating Thalia

Images for cover found on Pinterest

Summary: Professor Tom is a little distracted during his lecture in the presence of his favorite student, Thalia

Thalia sits in Tom’s lecture, smiling brightly as if nothing is wrong.

But it is. So wrong that he wants to rave and rant and not play the role of the British gentleman who’s rumored to love only literature.

After their mind-blowing first night together, Tom managed to sneak in other encounters. He’s had her in his office during his lunch break, where he’s muffled her moans with his huge hand and taken her while she lay spread out on his desk like a buffet to devour.

That was more than a week ago. Although she’s given him obvious please-fuck-me-six-ways-into-the-wind looks during lectures and – whenever they have accidentally or not so accidentally met – licked her plump lips and batted her long lashes at him, Tom has tried to stay away from her.

And it has been hell.

It’s never enough, he needs more of her, even if her taste is still on his tongue and he has nail marks on his biceps where she’s clawed at him during her climax.

She really is his drug, and his attempts at denying her powerful hold on him are laughable. Not only does he take way too many cold showers these days, he’s also thinking of her during the most inappropriate moments.

Like three days ago when they were in the library to research his project and a colleague walked in to use one of the free tables. He was forced to make small talk and ignore the heat of her body on the chair next to his, forget about the lingering orchid smell of her skin, block out the caressing brush of her hair against his cheek when she turned once to show him something.

For the better part of an hour, Tom tried his best to ignore his hard-on and talk in sensible sentences while he wanted nothing more than to run his hand up her thigh and caress her through her jeans. It was torture knowing that she’d be damp and hot between her legs, and that if he rubbed just right, he might coax her into climaxing right there in the library, forced to choke on those moans that were like music to his ears.

He doesn’t know how the hell he’s supposed to deal with this.

Before their first sexual encounter, it was difficult enough, but it was only about subtle signs, wishful thinking and careful innuendos. Now, she seems to be craving more so much that she can’t really control herself around him anymore. She blushes so prettily that he wants to see whether her ass cheeks will look the same inviting shade of red if he brings his palm down on them while he takes her from behind and makes her scream her heart out. She stands a little too close to him, fidgets in her chair when he speaks, as though she remembers what they’ve done and needs to alleviate the longing somehow.

So, Tom does the only thing he can do.

He tries to ignore the special connection between them.

Against his better judgment, he’s given her research to do on her own and not called her into his office again. Where he used to watch her those days, sometimes openly and sometimes without anyone noticing, he focuses on his work or on other students, though they aren’t half as brilliant as she. He forces himself to reply with curt sentences and the polished, polite, typically English way he’s known for, and it breaks his foolish heart in two when he sees that she’s hurt by his cold behavior.

But he can’t help it. Someone in this twisted relationship – if it even is a relationship – needs to keep a cool head, or they’ll risk getting caught.

But fuck, if it isn’t the hardest thing he’s ever needed to do to keep his hands off her and to go to bed alone instead of giving in to the wish to call her and get her off with the sound of his voice whispering dirty things to her.

And over the past few days, he’s watched her withdraw, lose a little of the confidence she’d always radiated. Now, when he catches her looking at him, she seems unsure of herself, and it’s a physical pain low in his gut to see her like this. Does she think he lied to her? That she was merely a good fuck and now he’s tired of her because she isn’t exactly the most experienced woman he’s had?

Tom wants nothing more than to talk to her—okay, okay, he wants to fuck her senseless even more than that, but he truly wishes he could reassure her she’s so much more than what she thinks. Yet it’s better for them to let things cool down a little.

But today, talking is the last thing on his mind. Because she seems to have decided to let him see what he’s missing out on.

Muttering a curse, he asks his students to flip to page 122 and familiarize themselves with the role of women in Shakespeare’s Macbeth—while he can think only of one woman.

A woman who is wearing a red and black Tartan plaid skirt which is even shorter than the one that was his ruin days ago. His throat as dry as the Sahara and his cock as hard as a rock, he watches her cross and uncross those luscious legs. They’re covered in black stockings and look even sexier than he’s seen them before, if that’s even possible.

As if that’s not alluring enough, Thalia is wearing heels today. Nothing over the top that would convey the wrong message, but it’s a change from her usual flats or boots, and it screams “fuck me now, Professor” at him across the auditorium. She’s the living wet dream of every man who ever attended boarding school as a young lad.

Suppressing a groan and entirely unable to concentrate on his notes, he observes her playing with her hair while she’s reading. She glides her fingers through the long, dark tresses, and his hands itch to do the same, to bury inside their silky, scented sweetness while she takes him as deep as she can. Of course, she finishes reading much faster than anybody else, and when she nibbles on her pen before taking notes, he feels like a hormonal teenager who’s going to blow his load over a scandalous image in the Playboy.

Tom jumps up from his chair and turns towards the blackboard so nobody can see the bulge in his pants. Marching to and fro and reciting his notes under his breath, he struggles to get a grip on himself.

When rustling and whispering indicate that most students have finished reading, he turns back—only to gape and stare like a lunatic when he sees her braiding her hair loosely.

How can such a seemingly simple, innocent move make him so bloody hard?

She shifts in her chair and he catches a co-ed ogling her across the corridor, elbowing his neighbor and motioning to her stocking-clad legs in their fantasy-inducing heels.

What the hell?

Keep your cool, Hiddleston, he reminds himself, but he realizes his hands are clenched into fists and he’s fighting the urge to punch the leering dickhead.

Does Thalia know? Is this a show for his benefit, her way of taking revenge for ignoring her when he should’ve been doing the opposite?

At this exact moment, she looks at him and their gazes clash. Slowly, her tongue glides over her lower lip, and his cock twitches enthusiastically, wanting that tongue all over it.

Fucking hell, he’s not going to survive today.

Just imagining her spending the rest of the day attending lectures in her skimpy skirt with the messy braid that exposes her long neck, makes him furious.

Tom adjusts his glasses, knowing that he’s scowling and grinding his teeth but not able to stop himself from reacting so strongly.

“Right, can anyone tell me which woman played the most important role in Macbeth?” he asks, his voice a stern bark that raises a few eyebrows. He’s usually known for his calm authority, for his easy kindness and for his impeccable manners, but he couldn’t care less today.

It’s useless lecturing those frat boys about the importance of women; they don’t have a bloody idea what to do with that knowledge. And the girls? None of them hold any interest for him, although some are intelligent enough to warrant good grades.

He wants only Thalia, and he wants her now, dammit.

Taking his glasses off, he turns them this way and that, blows on them and rubs them against his black jacket in a pretense of normalcy. But his grip is so tight and his control so frail that he’s not too sure he won’t break them.  Shoving them back on he turns to the blackboard and writes in an angry rush, the chalk racing over the surface because he’s itching to bend her over his desk and punish her for tempting him like this.

The lecture drags on, and somehow, he manages not to look at Thalia again and keep his shit together. The students groan at the difficult assignment he gives them.

Jaw clenched, he stuffs his notes into his scuffed, brown leather satchel, debating with himself whether he should meet her today or not.

His head jerks up when he hears a girl call Thalia’s name.

“Hey, a bunch of us were planning to watch the latest Avengers movie tonight and then hang out at the new dance club on Madison Avenue. Ya wanna come?”

He watches her consider the proposal, tugging at the end of her braid.

“Yeah, why don’t you ditch all that boring research and live a little? We could teach you how to have a good time,” one of the boys adds and winks at her.

Tom feels himself go rigid, the grip on his satchel white-knuckled.

Thalia’s gaze flicks to him, and something in her face changes. She stands a little taller, pushing her shoulders back so her tits are on prominent display, the black V-neck sweater stretching over their fullness.

“Sure, why not?”

She smiles at the idiot who can’t drag his eyes up from her boobs to make eye contact.

Tom reacts on autopilot. Before he knows it, he’s crossed the distance and is holding Thalia’s elbow in a possessive grip.

While a tiny voice inside his head asks him what the hell he thinks he’s doing and why he’s gripping her rather too firmly, he hears himself say, “Sorry for interrupting, but I’m afraid that’s not possible.”

He bares his teeth in what is more of a snarl than a polite smile. “Thalia, have you forgotten that we have a meeting concerning another archeological dig tonight?”

Eyes wide, she shoots him a beseeching look that does nothing to make him calm down.

“But Professor, couldn’t that wait until tomorrow? I’m quite a fan of the Avengers, you know? All those hunky heroes? And that villain…”

She lifts an eyebrow saucily while the girl next to her giggles, and he can’t help tugging her closer until he feels her shudder with awareness.

“Sorry,” he says, not sounding the least bit regretful, “it’s a rather urgent matter. Finances, that sort of thing, you know.”

The group of students roll their eyes and lose interest fast, dispersing and muttering among themselves.

Tom pulls Thalia around to face him, noticing her bite her lip.

“My office in ten minutes. If you don’t turn up, I swear to God you’ll regret it,” he growls so lowly that nobody can hear them.

He sees the pulse at her throat leap at his words. She pulls her arm free and smooths a nervous hand down that damn skirt.

“Yes, sir.”

Before she turns away, he catches the hint of a smile tugging on her mouth, and he wonders briefly whether this is exactly the reaction she’d been hoping for.

To hell with decorum and taking things slow, he wants to blow all caution to the wind and keep her with him for the rest of the day and all of the night.

Her ass sways when she walks away, the heels making her calves tighten in a way that should be illegal.

Tom knows the next ten minutes will be brutal…

Click here to read Chapter 5, Naughty Girl

Story updates are posted on Wednesdays and Sundays.

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

Let Them Watch

 

Let them watch.png

Let Them Watch

By avenger-nerd-mom

*a Chris Evans Fan Fiction*

Chris x OFC (First Person)

Chris Evans and his new girlfriend, a sassy plus sized woman, are spotted out on the town

Warnings: Language, Adult Situations, Fat Shaming, Bullying, Self-Esteem issues, Verbal Confrontation

Word Count 2632

Click here for Beautiful Design to see how Chris meets this lovely lady!

Adjusting my skirt, I freeze when the shrill voices and laughter enter the room.  “Did you see the girl he’s with?!  Oh my God; she needs her own zip code.”

A blush creeps over my face.  I know what everyone else in the restaurant looked like.  She can only be talking about me.  Living in Hollywood is a nightmare… I stay hidden in the bathroom stall, hoping they will leave soon and I can make my exit unnoticed.

“Well, she has a pretty face?  Maybe she’s really sweet?” replies another voice.  Her, I like.

“Get off it, a pretty face and nice personality can only get you so far,” chimes in a third woman.

The sound of the water faucet turns on and I can hear the women shuffling through their handbags for lipstick touch ups.

“In heels she’s practically taller than him!  And she really should cover up her arms with a sweater or something.”

“A black and white dress? She looks like Shamu!”

The girls dissolve into a fit of giggles, one of them actually making what I can only guess are supposed to be whale sounds.  Tears sting my eyes but I’ve dealt with women like them my whole life.

“All the gossip sites say he’s into kink… Who knew that’s what they meant!”

“I hear he likes it rough; she’s definitely got more cushion for pushin’!  But a man like that needs a woman like me.  I’d look good on his arm; something to be proud of showing off.”

I take a deep breath and adjust myself again before exiting the stall.  When the door opens I can see my reflection in the mirror as they all freeze.  Tears glisten my eyes as I look straight ahead and wash my hands.  I smooth the top of the tight Liberty Roll in my fair hair and flounce the longer waves over my shoulders, before turning to the one I think mouths off the most.

“Oh, honey, you have no idea how he likes his kink!  He’d break a skinny bitch like you in half!  He needs someone who is ALL woman,” I say, running my hands over my curves before I exit the room.  As I open the door, I look back over my shoulder at the other two staring at the leader, and I can only see her backside.  “And baby, you ain’t got the ass it takes to make a man like him happy.”

On the other side of the closed door, I lean against the hallway wall, taking a deep breath, counting slowly to get control of my tears and anger.  I did not take all that time to get my cat eye makeup perfect to ruin it with tears, I think bitterly to myself.  I don’t want to be standing there when they exit, so I gather my composure quickly and head back to the table.  I don’t want Christopher to see me upset.  He already worries about enough things… I don’t want to add my small bouts of insecurities to that mix.

Crossing the room, I can feel eyes watching me and hear soft giggles and possible comments under people’s breath.  I soften again as I see Christopher’s eyes sparkle in the low light as I move closer to him.  His appreciative stare causes my heart to flutter.  I approach our table and he rises, always a gentleman.  He puts his hand on my waist and kisses my cheek. God, he smells so good.  I reach passed him to pick up my handbag, and choke out the words, “I’d like to go.  I’ll meet you outside.”

“But I just ordered dessert?” Chris says, confused, his hand still on my waist.

I shake my head.  “I’m not hungry.  Can we please just go?”  Tears are threatening to spill from my eyes and from their corners, I can see the three women returning to their table, watching us. Watching me.  I don’t want to give them the satisfaction of seeing that their words hurt.

Chris watches me closely as the waiter approaches our table.  His vision flickers in their direction before I begin to walk away, doing my best to keep my head high and hold my dignity.  Moments later, his large, warm hand is on my lower back, ushering me out the door.  We take a few steps away from the doorway, down the sidewalk when he grabs at my arm, spinning me around.  “Did I do something wrong?  What am I missing?”

The pain on his face is evident.  I gently cup his beard in my hand, and he moves his head in my hand just enough to tickle my palm.  I slowly smile, getting my sense of us back. “Christopher, honey, you didn’t do anything.  It’s just…” From the corner of my eye, I see a photographer move towards us snapping photos.  I nod my head in that general direction and Chris winks to show me he caught on to it also.  “I wanna go home.  Let’s get out of here.”

Chris sighs deeply, taking my hand in his and says, “Whatever you want, sunshine.”

I giggle at his nickname for me- Sunshine.  He says he’s always amazed by my happiness and enthusiasm; that I add light to his day.  If he only knew it was sometimes like a personal pep talk right to my soul…  I let my inner struggles roll off, pulling myself to my full height next to him.  Walking along, I bump into his arm playfully.  “Does it bug you when I wear heels?  I’m almost taller than you!”

He stops walking and I laugh as I turn to him.  “What?”

“Are you fucking kidding with this?” he asks.  “Why wouldn’t I want you to wear heels?!  For the first time in ages I can do this without having to twist and bend down.”  He tugs on the strap of my sundress and pulls me to him, a twinkle in his eye.  He keeps one hand wrapped through the strap of my dress and puts the other in my hair, pulling my lips to his.  “Ignore the fucking cameras,” he whispers as his brush against mine softly and tenderly, teasing me.  He gently opens his mouth, sucking my top lip in between his sweet grip, the tip of his tongue caressing it.  His nose innocently brushes against mine. His antagonizing seduction instantly makes me wet and a groan rumbles in the back of my throat.  The bristles of his beard edge my mouth as he chastely finishes the kiss and backs away, holding me tight as my knees slightly give way, crushed under the power of his mouth.

“Does that answer your question?” he chuckles.  “Wear heels.  Especially later, when this dress is off you,” he challenges quietly, moving again towards the car.

When we reach the car, instead of opening the door for me, he pushes me against it, firmly planting his hand on my ribcage.  “Whatever it is,” Chris whispers in my ear.  “You don’t have to be tough all the time; you can share your hurt with me.  I won’t think less of you and it won’t change the way I feel.”

I sigh deeply, shaking my head at his intuitiveness.  “Christopher, I don’t want to do this here.”  I try to keep stiff, guarded, knowing cameras are lurking in the shadows, but Chris clearly has other things on his mind as his hands roam down my arms.  The goosebumps that form have nothing to do with the cool evening air.

“Fine then.  We won’t talk.  We’ll just make out in front of these photographers.  We’ve got time to kill,” he said before throwing his plump, wet lips against my neck, seeking the spot he knows makes me squirm every time!   Damn! My ticklish spot!

I squeal, attracting attention of the paparazzi.  “Quit that!”  I giggle.  “What are you doing?”

“Waiting on the waiter to bring out my real dessert…”

“Oh, my God! Are you joking?”

“I can’t help it,” Chris laughs, his breath warm against my neck.  “I like all things sweet.” 

“We’re being watched…” I sigh, not really wanting him to stop.

He tilts his head to place a delicate open mouthed kiss on my hummingbird tattoo.  Instinctively my eyes close and my head falls back as his cradles it in one of his large hands, his other roaming down my side.  His distractions nearly clear the tabloid photogs from my mind.  “Let them watch…”

Running his mouth up my neck, his beard scratches my skin as his lips move to mine. Oh, my god, who taught this boy to kiss? She deserves a medal… Up close under the street lights, I can see the devilish gleam in his eyes.  “What are you up to, Christopher?”

“Shh…,” he whispers, closing his mouth over mine with a little more force this time.

Our private bubble bursts at the sound of high pitched giggles and deep laughter.  The photographers seem to step back into the darkness of the night as the group of mean girls and their men walk in front of our car.  My posture instantly locks, anticipating a final retaliation for my bold words in the washroom.

Chris must sense the change in me, asking quietly, his voice vibrating against me, “Babe? Is that it?  Did one of those women say something to you?”

He takes the dessert box from the young waiter who has made his delivery, offering him another tip and nodding his thanks.  He barely takes his eyes off me during the exchange.  His stare makes me want to come clean, to tell him my fears, to wonder aloud if he’s made the wrong choice.  People will always be watching us, for his fame or my size…  Let them watch, he said…  I sigh in frustration.  He’s right.   We sure as hell can’t hide all the time….

“Not to me… I overheard them talking,” I admit, moving aside as Chris reaches around me to finally open the door.

Before helping me in the car, he kisses me tenderly, chuckling quietly and placing the box with his sweet treat in the back.  I watch with desire as he crosses in front of the car under the glow of the parking lights.  His shorter hair mimics a James Dean quality and matches the rockabilly style I often like to wear. His jeans hug at his tapered waist just right and the t-shirt rides up a bit with each stride of his legs, allowing a glimpse at his glorious Adonis belt.  There’s a reason I can’t seem to keep my hands off him.  He is without a doubt; the sexiest man I have ever seen.

Settling in the car, he takes my hand, kissing the back of it gently.  “Sunshine, when you got up from the table, all heads turned to watch you.”  He makes a tsking sound when I scoff at his words.  “Not for the reason you think, babe…. The sway of your hips?  Drives a man crazy…  The front view; the bounce?  The deep cleavage?  A man wants to get lost in there for days.  You’re everything those women aren’t and they were jealous.”

“You sweet man.  I love that you are so blind, but they said everything I think.”

“Then tell yourself to ‘shut up.’  I see an amazing, talented, funny, charismatic business woman, with great taste in fashion and men,” he smiles, pointing at himself.  “Trust me.  I don’t tell stories; I just act them out on screen.  You’ve known me for months.  Do I waste my time on things that aren’t worth it?”

“No…” I answer quietly, consoled by his words, finding additional strength in them.

“I can’t imagine you stayed too quiet after hearing them speak…” he starts, watching as the smile grows on my face.  “What did you do?” he asks warmly.

I giggle, sharing with him the story of my encounter with the mean girls.  Laughing so hard, he hits the steering wheel, beeping the horn and startling a young couple walking to their car.  “You actually said that to her?!  That’s awesome! I bet she learns to keep her mouth shut,” he wheezes out.

I shake my head, “Girls like her never learn.  If God has a sense of humor, she’ll get old and fat one day too….” I pinch the bridge of my nose, thinking about what I said.  “I didn’t mean that.  Everybody is what they are. Size and shape doesn’t change you, or make you better or worse than anyone else. She’d still be bitter, just about something else.”

“See?  That? That’s why you’re my ‘Sunshine.’” Chris winks at me, starting the ignition and slowly backing the car out of the tight space.  “You could let it get you down, but you don’t dwell on it.  Some stupid bitch you’ll never see again shouldn’t have power over you… But you have got to depend on me. I’m strong, baby, you know that. I can bear that weight with you.”

I chuckle at his word choice, watching the passing lights and shoppers along Rodeo Drive.

“Seriously.  I have to get you to see what I see, and my words aren’t getting through that beautiful, thick skull of yours,” Chris says, tapping his finger against the steering wheel.  “I got it!” he shouts in the confined space, laughing when I jump.  “What are you doing this weekend?”

Confused, I turn to look at him, wondering about the giant smile spreading across his face.  “I don’t know?  Why? Whatdya have in mind?”

Chris waves a pedestrian across before advancing at the green light.  “I’m thinking we need to go home to Boston,” his voice trails off, watching me from the corner of his eye.

“What? Boston? Why?” I ask, my speech nearly impaired from this suggestion.  “Christopher, we haven’t been dating that long.  Why would you take me to Boston?”

He turns off the road, taking the more scenic route back to his newly redecorated home, courtesy of me and my design team.  He shrugs his shoulders, waving his hand like an invitation home, to meet his family, is no big deal.  It’s a big fucking deal.  “Some of those pictures from the parking lot will be all over the internet.  I wouldn’t have let them be taken if I didn’t want them.  How often do you see pap shots of me in the press?  Those photos are to show you, and the world, I don’t care what size your dress is.  You are fucking perfect for me.”  He continues to watch the road carefully, slowing as a deer crosses our path. “Look out, Bambi,” he mumbles under his breath.  “Mom will want to meet you; the girl I allowed myself to get photographed with…”

Anxiously, my shaking hands brush my hair to the side and tie it in a low knot, a nervous habit.  “You want me to meet your mom?”

“If words can’t tell you how alluring I think you are, maybe it’s time you meet the three most important women in my life.  You’ll see how beautiful they are to me,” he explains, his voice nearly choked in emotion.  “You’ll know then you are beautiful to me because of you, inside and out.”

Chris’s mom and sisters shaped the man he is; although I haven’t met them yet, I bought frames for all the pictures of them displayed in his home.  The soft spot in our hearts for the handsome man beside me isn’t the only thing we have in common, I think, picturing the lovely women in my mind.  My voice is also strangled with emotion, “Well, then, I guess we’re going to Boston this weekend.”

Click here to read “Dancing Lessons”

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