ch 1 jan 2 2019


Chapter 1

Being Thalia

Collaboration by @avenger-nerd-mom &  @devikafernando


It’s TRUE! @devikafernando and @avenger-nerd-mom are posting a SEQUEL for Educating Thalia, involving Professor Hiddleston and Professor Evans! In Being Thalia, the two rivals are still vying for their right to claim the lovely Thalia Bareo. The sassy full-figured Puerto Rican girl from Chicago is all grown up now, holding down a job, continuing her studies and freelancing as a consultant for museums around the world. Story updates are posted on Wednesdays and Sundays.

Warning: As a whole, this work contains adult content. If you proceed you have agreed that you are willing to see such content. Each chapter will not be coded with individual warnings. The overall story contains no hidden triggers.

Summary: Thalia has an off-day, feeling out of sorts, and retreats to her office to let her mind wander.

Word count: 970

This opening chapter follows the events in the one-shot story, The Bet, originally posted in August 2018.

If you are new to the series and characters, click here to the beginning of Educating Thalia.

“Why are old lovers able to become friends? Two reasons:

They never truly loved each other, or they love each other still.”

Whitney Otto- How to Make an American Quilt

2020, Early Spring

Trouncing down the stairs, Thalia momentarily stops. Two students leaning against the window ledge are arguing points for class, one clutching a copy of Coriolanus to her chest.

A cold ache fills her heart, as it always does when her former professor and former lover, Tom Hiddleston, crosses her mind. “Fuck him,” she mumbles under her breath, hitting her fist on the bannister. She waves it off when the young woman asks if she’s okay. She sighs and continues her path down the hallway. Unlocking the door to her small office, she slams it behind her. Her love of languages and Shakespeare lost their shine when her light left. Tom took it away when he walked out of her life, nearly two years ago.

Plopping in the chair, she props her dusty boots up on the desk, swiveling the chair to face the windows, looking out across campus. The trees are beginning to bud, and soon things will be green again. Moving a file, the tennis ball she keeps on her desk rolls towards her and she picks it up and begins bouncing it against the wall. Methodically her thoughts drift as she gets lost in the repetition.


Slamming around their small apartment in Paris, Tom throws his clothes into the two large suitcases on the bed, the sheets still rumpled from their lovemaking the day before.

“Tom! It’s not like that! Dammit, why you gotta be such a hard ass?” She shouts back at him.

“America, Thalia? I thought we were done with that? I thought you let it go?” Tom’s voice is tight and controlled, his accent clipped. He opens the top drawer, reaching in and scooping out all the clean socks and underwear. Slamming it shut, the clock he hung just days before rattles against the stucco wall. “That we had a life here, together.”

“It’s just for a few months, a semester.” She replies, stepping in front of him.

He pushes around her. “And right back in Evans’ bed, no doubt. Of all the Ivy League schools that want you, offer you teaching positions, why do you think they keep calling you? It’s him, isn’t it?”

“Tom, I haven’t seen him in months. I’ve been here with you, you fool.” She rests on the end of the bed, trying to make light of his anger. She shuts out her thoughts and feelings about Chris cancelling their Spring Break plans at the last possible minute because he’d met someone new…

“Don’t bloody lie to me, woman. I know you still talk. I hear you on the phone with him, and his little girl. I know you still send her cards and gifts.”

Thalia nods. She can’t deny it. She made one promise ages ago, and that was to never abandon Avery. And she held true to her word. The relationship with her other former lover and professor, Chris Evans, had cooled, but they had still remained friends. She says so out loud, but it falls on deaf ears while Tom roots around in the closet, pulling out shirts and dress clothes, tossing them haphazardly on the bed.

“So you’ve taken a job at our old school, where he still works? Where he still pines for you? And you want to keep me?”

“He’s moved on, Tom. If you’ll stop for one damn minute-”

“I don’t give a rat’s arse about him. I care about you and how you let him get to you after all this time, Thalia. It’s too much.” He stands in the doorway, seething with a frightful energy she’s never seen before. Another moment of his rage passes through her thoughts, when he found out she had been seeing Evans. But this fury is unmatched; there’s a finality in it. He throws his hands up in the air. “You know what? I’m done. I’m fucking done. I’ll be back to get the rest of my things tonight, when I know you’re teaching your class. I’ll change my flight, and head back to London early.”

“Tom, you’re being ridiculous. My dad is sick, you gotta understand that,” she pleads. “I have to be back in the States, closer to home. Field Museum wouldn’t hire me, and I can’t just quit working and go home. I have college debt and bills to pay. It’s just a damn job,” Thalia says, throwing a pillow to the ground. “It puts me closer to home, closer to my dad. You don’t have to leave,” she says, anguish choking her throat.

“I do. I can’t fucking stay here a moment longer, be in your presence, knowing you still love him. I won’t do it anymore, Thalia. I can’t. Since you’re not ready to grow up and give up your other toys, I’ll take one away. I’m gone.”


She catches the ball in her hand, gripping it tightly. He’d meant what he said. Other than the occasional professional email, Tom Hiddleston was no longer in her life. He wasn’t even someone she could call a friend anymore. He had totally cut her out. The wounds had been deep.

When she’d first accepted the teaching position at their former place of employment, to cover another professor’s maternity leave, returning to the arms of Professor Chris Evans had not been her plan. She had made a point to stand on her own and it had worked well, for the first few months. Chris had moved on, a new girlfriend taking up space in his bed. But he and Thalia had been able to resume their friendship, and Thalia enjoyed spending time with his young daughter. The girl was so inquisitive, beautiful eyes and a sharp wit, like her father. When she was offered a more permanent teaching job at the university, she had nothing in Paris to return to, so she’d gladly accepted.

Next Chapter, Collection

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

Morning After

ET ch 17 Morning After

Educating Thalia

Chapter 17

Collaboration by @avenger-nerd-mom & @devikafernando


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




Educating Thalia

Chapter 16

Collaboration by @avenger-nerd-mom & @devikafernando


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: 3040

Warnings:  Language, Adult Situations, NSFW, cunnilingus, fingering, nipple play, intercourse, multiple orgasms

Summary: Chris takes his time to really get to know Thalia’s body, fulfilling a tantalizing promise while losing himself in her.

Click here to the intro for Educating Thalia

He advances on her quickly, flipping her back to the bed and tugging on her shorts and pulling them down her shapely full figured legs, leaving her in nothing but a piece of skimpy blue lace.  Sliding off the end of the bed, he grabs her ankle and draws her down to him, spreading her legs to rest between them.  “I’ve been wanting to bite right here,” he circles his thumb on her inner thigh, “since you sat on the couch with your foot on the table.  Niña, I don’t even think you knew what you were doing, but you had my attention.”  She whimpers and begins to writhe before he even moves between her legs, tickling her with the top of his buzzed hair.  Noticing the wet spot already on her panties, he continues his little game, biting at her thigh and marking her there also.

With his hair so short, she tugs on his ear and pulls his head back to look at him and whines for him to stop teasing. Her eyes are dark with lust and reaching down to him, she removes his glasses and tosses them gently towards her dresser.  “Just do it.  Lick me, finger fuck me, whatever, but put me out of my misery.”

God, how he wants to hear her sultry voice cry out.  “Thalia, I wanna hear you beg for me.  You have to want it.”

Lifting her ass of the bed, she pushes against him.  “I do Chris; I want it.” She huffs when he pulls back.  “I need you to make me come.”

Licking across the lace, he pushes it between her folds and she cries out, “Fuck,” seemingly shocked at her own volume as she covers her mouth with her fist.  The glorious sound echoes in his ears and he longs to hear it again as he swipes his tongue again, sucking back and gathering the wet lace between his lips.  Stretching it away from her pussy, he glides one hand up her thigh, bringing his thumb to her entrance and massaging with the rest of his hand against her pelvic bone.  She pushes towards him and he holds her still with his other hand.  “Not that easy, Thalia.  You have to want it, you have to tell me you want it.”

“Dammit, I need you to fuck me, please.”

With the lace pushed to the side, he looks at her pretty pink sex and sees the throbbing of her walls, begging for him.  Leaning in, he pushes with his thumb as his tongue teases around her tight bundle of nerves and she cries out again, thrashing against the sheets, straining to rise up as he holds her down.  “More,” she whines.

“You taste absolutely sinful,” he praises.  Her hole is tight and he adds another digit to his caresses, fingering her and pulling in and out, simulating the sex act he plans for her later.  Her walls squeeze on him and he knows she won’t last much longer, teasing her with another lash of his tongue across her clit and her whimpers sound pained. He smiles as he licks when she raises her foot to his shoulder, opening herself up more for him as he continues to dive between her legs.

Choking out the words, she says what he longs to hear.  “Chris, I’m yours, make me come, please.”

“Thatta girl, that’s what I want; go for it.”  Pushing another finger in he curls against her g-spot, letting go of his hold on her stomach so she can rise up to grind against him as she comes over his hand, soaking his beard as he laps her clean.  “Shit, shit, shit,” she cries and it reminds him of his own string of expletives at her hands, his undoing.  The little bit he can’t catch runs between her legs and soaks the comforter as he sweeps her up in his arms and cradles her in his lap, wiping his beard on the already stained tank top.  “Niña, honey, that was just One.  Still two more to go.”

Her head drops to his shoulder, her arms tight around his neck.  She whispers against his skin.  “Fuck, I’ll be dead by morning,” she giggles.  “Cause of death: Amazing hot sex.”

“Don’t die yet; I’m not done with you,” he promises.

Her body quakes in his arms and he feels she’s still on the edge.  Lowering his head,  his lips caress the tender spot against her collarbone.

“Chris?  You just picked me up?  Like it was nothing?”  She giggles, still breathy and faint, the rush of air from her lips warm against his neck.  “That might be the fucking sexiest thing a man has ever done for me,” she shares with him.

He nuzzles closer to her body.  Her round, full womanly body appeals to him in a way no other woman has in ages.  He likes her weight, her power.  It’s a fuckin’ turn on.  His free hand glides up her thigh and her legs fall apart, giving him better access.  He massages over her shaved mound. “I’ll remember that,” he chuckles, tilting his head back to look at her.  She’s lovely with her eyes blown wide from her orgasm, tendrils of curls loose from her braid, damp with the sweat of their lovemaking.  “You like me just for my strength.  Fair enough.  I like you for your thick thighs and peach-shaped ass.”

She blushes and shakes her head back in a gasp as his hand reaches his goal, her wet center. Dipping his fingers in her juices, her walls tremble and clench around him, pulling his digits in deeper.  Curling his fingers, his smooth, rhythmic penetrations reach her g-spot and her breaths catch, her body arching into him.

“I hope that’s not the only reason,” she whispers against the top of his head.

Her nipples push against his solid chest and harden as his mouth drops down, kissing the tops of her exposed globes.  Her hand slides down his chest and joins his, flicking over her aching clit.  “Come for me again, Thalia.  Don’t hold back this time,” he quietly tells her.  “When you’re ready, just let go.”

Looking down to their drenched fingers her wet glistens in the low lamp light and he longs to taste her.  He thinks what the hell…  Sliding his fingers out, she whines from the emptiness but continues to rub herself.  His arm around her back reaches further around her side to lift her ravishing breast to him, as he circles her slick fragrant sluice around the dark nipple with his other hand.  Her flesh rises in goosebumps and he takes the chocolate peak into his waiting mouth, sucking her in and clasping his lips around her raised bud. Pulling back and tugging lightly with his teeth her moan delights his ears and he whispers, “Good enough to eat,” as his hand slides back over her ample stomach to find her hole waiting for him.

Sitting in his lap, her ass rocks against his cock and he stiffens under her, waiting for his turn to truly have her.  Not much longer now.

His fingers meet hers and their punishing touches continue to pulsate within her and he feels her body tense.  Turning his hand he pushes his palm against her hand, eliciting a whine from her as her pleasure takes on a painful need to let loose.  His other hand continues to pull at her nipple, pinching and squeezing as her noises rise and she lifts off him to push against their hands.  “Oh, fuck, fuck, I’m coming again,” she pants as her hand pushes harder in circles around her clit and his fingers reach as far as he can to hit against the most sensitive spot  Her come spills over their hands and Chris continues to caress, pulling the orgasm from her as she bucks against him.

“Look at me,” he coaxes reveling in the frantic darkness found in her gleaming eyes. Hers search over his face, as though she wants to know his features and hold them close.  Her mouth falls open as she cries out and he captures her bottom lip, sucking and pulling at the supple flesh, marking her with beard burn, as her whimpers die down.  Stroking his fingers across her gently, she accepts his mouth, placing a full kiss on his lips as her orgasm wanes.

“Two,” he announces pulling his hand from her sopping cunt and picking her up effortlessly as he rises into a standing position.  His needy hands grab and claw at her ass.  Instinctively she wraps her legs around him and he bounces her up high against his chest, returning her back down on his solid cock.

Her quick intake of air shows her surprise and he holds her still, allowing her time to stretch to accommodate his hard pulsing thickness. Taking a few short steps across the room, he sits her atop the dresser and pushes into her again.  Her lips crash against his in a fevered need and she purrs, “Yes, yes, fuck me like this. Please.”

Their bodies align perfectly and the dresser is just the right height.  Pummeling into her he sets a rapid pace, tired of waiting.  He pulls at her ass and teases along the crease, her moans louder and echoing in his ears. He wonders if this beauty might like a little ass play?   She rolls with him and bounces on the wooden surface.  Her teeth sink into the tattoo on his collarbone and he hisses, heightening his senses as her manicured nails dig into his shoulder.  Moving one hand away from her sweet peachy ass, he glides roughly over her dark skin, tugging and pulling.   Lifting the weight of her exposed tit, he pulls in and out of her. Right on the edge, he knows he needs to stop, get a condom, but she feels so damn hot, so tight, he literally can’t pull himself away.

Thalia opens herself more to him by lifting her leg and resting her foot on the edge of the dark furniture piece. “Damn, that’s hot, Niña.”   Extracting himself momentarily, he watches her walls convulse, the prettiest shade of pink and purple he’s ever seen.  Chris can’t take his eyes off her slippery pulsing cunt.  “So pretty,” he whispers and from the corner of his eyes, he sees her smile grow.

Sassy.  Pleased.

Grabbing the chain around his neck, her husky voice fills his head, words that will echo in his wildest dreams for ages, “You gonna stare at it, or finish filling it?”

With her foot wrapped around his trim waist, she taps his ass with it and she pulls him close guiding him in.  With a strength she’s hidden till now, she requests commands, “Fuck me now, Chris.  I need you to finish me.”

The earthy quality to her voice, her moment of dominance brings him back to the moment.  Rocking against her again he sheaths himself deep inside, scooping her up under her ass and carrying her to the bed.  “Do that all day,” she whines.  “Super fuckin’ sexy.”

Placing her on the bed, she keeps her leg up and he pins it to his side as he pounds into her again and again, unapologetically.  His sounds of pleasure mirror hers as they rise to their peak.  Her body clenches around his cock and her volume rises, a series of expletives falling from her sweet lips.  “Three,” he grunts as he pulls out and pumps himself to finish against her writhing hip as she still undulates beneath his weight.

“Three,” she giggles breathlessly holding him in place on top of her.  “Don’t move.  I like your weight.”

Lazily her fingers drape across his back and her body slowly relaxes.  His come rolls over her hip and onto the comforter and he breathes into her neck, whispering his appreciations.

Hours later, he’s not exactly sure when they fell asleep, so soundly, wrapped up around one another.  She must have been awake at some point.  The lamp is off and he can see around the room in the hazy morning light.  The soiled comforter is hanging off the end of the bed and his glasses are on the bedside table next to her phone.  He slides out of the cozy bed and is instantly hit with a wave of cold air.  Running quickly to the bathroom first, he later tiptoes to the living room to adjust the radiator.  It makes a rumbling sound, but it isn’t too promising.  He wraps the blanket from the back of the couch around him and riffles through the kitchen cabinets, settling on a protein bar and a glass of milk.  His feet are freezing on the cold floors as he pads back into the bedroom.

He tries to slip back into the bed without waking her but she stirs, a happy crooked smile on her face.  “Morning, handsome,” she slurs, her voice full of sleep.

Add it to the list of sexiest sounds.  Thalia’s morning voice.

“This place is fuckin’ cold.  You need a heater,” he declares rolling her on top of him for warmth.

She shrieks when he places his cold feet on the back of her calves, eyes flying wide open.

“You are not nice in the morning,” she tells him, snuggling her full boobs against his rock solid chest and settling between his legs.  Her mouth blows out tiny wisps of air against his neck and he warms under her.

Comfortable and relaxed, they lay in silence for awhile.  Chris plays with her curls while she rubs her hands through the light fuzz across his chest.  Eventually she rolls to his side, snuggling next to him.  A perfect fit.

“‘Niña,’ huh?” she teases, the Spanish endearment rolling off her tongue.

He chuckles quietly, tenderly kissing the top of her head.  “It popped in my mind.  For some reason, I remembered that from my language classes. I guess I thought if I actually called you ‘baby girl’ you might hit me.”

Her body rocks with laughter and jostles the bed.  “You’re probably right.”  She laughs some more and the musical sound fills him with joy.

Cuddled in her arms, he quietly tells her, “I’d like to see you again some time, Thalia.  Maybe we could get dinner later this week?   I’m a professor, and you’re a student; we’d have to keep things quiet…”

Her cheeks flush pink and he can see her hesitation, and a moment of… What? Fear? Disbelief? – pass across her face. She chews at her bottom lip, swollen and bruised from hours of use.  It’s like she’s warring with herself…  yet he sees the instant she makes her decision.

“I’ve just had some of the best sex of my life and I would like to see you again,” she admits, her face a deep shade of red at her confession.  “But,”  Thalia sighs, “I’m seeing someone else… We have a bit of an open relationship, and for reasons, we also like to keep things quiet.  If you’re okay with knowing that I’m not always available because of school, work and well,” she sighs, “him, then yes, I’d really like to see you again sometime.”

Chris’s stomach drops, and he says the first thing that comes to his mind, believing honesty is probably the best for her, especially since she was just now truthful with him.  “To be honest, Thalia, I wasn’t expecting that you were seeing someone else.  I’m gonna have to think on it…”

“It’s fine; I understand,” she rolls over to the edge of the bed and sits up, looking around the mess of the room in a daze.

He doesn’t want her to go; doesn’t want his time with her to end.  “You said you had a lot of studying today?  I really didn’t mean to take all your morning time away-”

“Chris. Stop.  You didn’t take anything away from me.  I’m glad you’re still here.” She sighs frustratedly as she pulls the sheet around her, seemingly embarrassed in the morning light.  Standing beside the bed, her wild hair creates a halo in the gray sunshine creeping in the blinds.  She smiles down at him, reaching to caress his beard.  “I would have really hated you; hated myself if you’d left.”  She repeats quietly, “I’m glad you’re still here.”

Picking up his glasses, she hands them to him.  Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he puts them on, laughing.  “You’re beautiful.  You look well fucked over.”  He delights in knowing he caused her undoing.

Looking in the mirror, she tucks the sheet around her, pushing her wayward curls back.  She hides a small smile behind her hand as she thoughtfully runs her lips over the knuckles on her hand.  As if she’s searching for what he sees and she can’t find it, she shakes her head and turns away.  Chris jumps up and is next to her side before she can move.  Fully naked, he stands behind her, caressing her hair over her shoulder and pulling out what remains of the braid.  “Thalia,  I want to taste more of you.  You’re a curvy, delicious woman.  Any man would be a fool not to see that.”  Bringing his hands to her waist, he digs into her fleshy sides, brushing his cock against her ass.  “Right here?  This is perfect for grabbing you tight.  I picture myself holding you here, and sliding you on and off my cock from behind and-”

“Behind?” she giggles, turning to look at him over her exposed shoulder.  “No, sir.  You stay away from there.”

Chuckling, he pushes against her more firmly.  “Oh, really? Sweetheart, you don’t know what you’re missing.  You realize now you’ve challenged me to-”

Reaching over her shoulder, she places her hand against his scruff.  “You realize now you’re talking like a man who wants to stay; wants to see me again?”

His stomach tightens.  She’s right.  She’s too perfect, too beautiful, too damn smart to walk away from…  Whoever his competition is, he’ll make sure he wins.

Turning his face to kiss her palm, he sighs in defeat.  “Yes, you’re right…  I can’t walk away from you.  I need to know you, Thalia, all of you.”

Click here to Chapter 17 Morning After

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


ET ch 13 Alone April 16 2017

Chapter 13

Educating Thalia

Collaboration by @devikafernando & @avenger-nerd-mom


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, fluff, angst, thoughts of sexual situations

Summary: Thalia reflects on her life in general and on her relationship with Tom.

Word Count 1528

Click here to read the introduction to Educating Thalia

With a sigh, Thalia dumps her bag and keys, plopping down on the couch to pull of her boots.  To ward off the cold as she waits for the radiator to warm up, she stays wrapped in her scarf and coat, feeling oddly listless.

The best thing now would be to just fall into bed- and forget the fight with Tom she just had. But she’s much too annoyed to fall asleep right now. She’s glad to know her class in the morning is cancelled, and she can laze about a few extra hours. Finally warm enough, she peels off her outer layer of clothes and reaches for the slippers under the coffee table.

With another sigh, she pads into the kitchen and grabs the ingredients for a nice, ego-boosting, nerve-soothing cup of hot chocolate. Although a shot of whiskey doesn’t sound bad either.  She looks briefly to the window, and thinks about crossing the street to the bar where she works, but she’d probably get sucked into helping close for the night.  Chica, you are too tired for that shit.  Three nights in a row is enough and she looks forward to being off from the bar for a few days. Instead of booze as a soother, while the water boils, she rummages for home-made cookies she always keeps in an emergency stash in a tin above the stove.

Tom.  She can’t kick him from her mind…  It’s barely been two weeks since she’s returned from her Christmas break, but things have changed somehow.  She’s confused by how there can be a closeness and a distance at the same time…  It’s like he wants to pull her close, then gets scared of his own feelings, and pushes her away.  It’s become dizzying.

Although she’ll forever remember and treasure the amazing time she spent with Tom during his surprise visit, their days apart during the holidays made her see one thing clearer: She shouldn’t tie herself to him too much.

They’re becoming too dependent on each other; she’ll be looking for work abroad, and this isn’t the permanent home for either of them.  Their time at the college as professor and student is just a stop along the way to the rest their lives…

Yes, he’s all she can think about sometimes, and he’s awakened a hunger for more inside that scares the shit out of her – but does that mean he should wield such control over all of her life?

She’s a little tired of re-adjusting her schedule and missing out on other things because she’s at his beck and call. Whenever he is free, she ditches anything that isn’t work or school to spend a few forbidden hours with him.

Thalia munches grumpily on two cookies, the usually mouth-watering taste of her step-mother’s family recipe barely registering on her taste buds.

God, she loves spending time with Tom. And that’s part of the problem. She’s grown so attached to him, so dependent on him and how he makes her feel valued and appreciated…

What the hell happened to being her own girl?

It doesn’t help that Tom has steadily been growing more attached too. He cares for her, she feels it in her bones, even though he hasn’t put it into words.  It’s a blessing and a curse rolled into one, and sometimes he’s like a petulant child if he doesn’t get his way.

While going through the motions of making her hot chocolate,Thalia recounts a fight they had about a week ago.  She was in a bad mood before meeting him, weighed down by the challenges of the new semester and drained by all those extra hours at the bar now that one of the other bartenders quit. When she snapped at Tom for a teasing comment, he gave her an impromptu spanking in his office.  What started as playful fun, with her admitting she was being a bad girl ended up with him taking her from behind and leaving a rather prominent love bite on her neck. Afterwards, he cuddled her close and asked her what was wrong…and somehow off they were on their first ever real fight- over something completely ridiculous.

Tom was none too happy with her decision to work late hours. When she reminded him icily that she didn’t have the privilege of money, he offered to help her out.

Shaking her head at the memory, Thalia takes a sip of the hot, bittersweet liquid and waits for its effect to kick in.

She knows he mentioned helping her financially because he wants to have more time with her and because he genuinely cares for her, but to her that was a big no- a red flag. With a scowl, she remembers stomping around his office and gathering her clothes while hissing at him that he sure as hell wasn’t her sugar daddy and she was the last person who wanted his money.

He flinched and looked so wounded that she wanted to take the words back. But though they were harsh, they were the truth. No way would she let him help. It was bad enough that he paid for all those hotels and meals and little treats off and on. She didn’t want to turn into a kept woman, dammit, like some medieval mistress.  And she told him so before storming out of his office.

Slowly, trying her best to savor the flavor, Thalia sips the rest of her beverage.

In the days that followed, he did not bring up the topic again and he was careful to create opportunities for them to spend time together that didn’t involve large expenses.  She smiles at the memory of him ‘accidentally’ finding her studying in the Commons and the ice cream he shared with her.  And the whispered naughty things he would do to her if they were alone…

But the truce was short lived. They fought again tonight at dinner.  She hadn’t been able to see Tom for three days due to work and classes and today she nearly fell asleep while waiting for dinner.  His deep, crisp voice lulling her in safety and she wanted nothing more to fall into his arms and sleep for days. When she asked him for a raincheck on the date, things only got worse. Before she could even suggest he go with her to her place for the night, he switched from disappointment to cool anger. He accused her of being needlessly stubborn.

“I told you that you should let me help. Why are you so intent on making things complicated?” he asked, blue eyes flashing, a muscle ticking in his clenched jaw.

Something snapped inside her then, exhaustion taking its toll on her. “I’m being stubborn?!  Ya know, Tom, I don’t have strength for this bullshit right now.  How about learning how to deal with a little rejection instead of making matters worse?” she threw at him and left, ignoring his pleading voice calling her name as she paraded down the snowy sidewalk to her car.

As tired as her body is from being overworked, it also burns with a constant longing for Tom’s affection and attention.

And God, he could be attentive to the point of killing her, in the best ways possible.

Her cheeks heat, and it has nothing to do with the chocolate. She writhes with the sizzling memory of him pleasuring her with his mouth and a tiny but powerful vibrator last week. He didn’t let up until she thought she’d burst out of her skin, coaxing so many orgasms out of her that she was a boneless mess in his arms by the time he rubbed himself between her full breasts and came all over them.

Thalia tightens the grip on her cup, arousal slipping through the annoyance and making her press her thighs together.

Almost defiantly, she downs the rest of the liquid and rinses the cup in the sink.

Dammit, she doesn’t want him to have such a hold on her, and he simply doesn’t understand what’s so bad about, how did he phrase it, ‘helping the woman who means so much to me until she’s pulled through.’

Her phone dings, announcing a message. Knowing instinctively that it must be Tom, she keeps herself from looking at it. Instead, she walks into the bathroom and indulges in a hot shower, trying to wash off all her conflicting emotions.

When she’s finally in bed twenty minutes later, she picks up her phone and checks.

She can’t help the eye roll and reluctant smile when she reads the Shakespeare quote. It’s just so Tom.

‘A fool thinks himself to be wise, but a wise man knows himself to be a fool.’ I’m sorry for being such an insufferable fool this evening, darling. Forgive me? I just want what’s best for you…for this beautiful thing we share.

The umpteenth sigh for today wrenches itself lose.

Forgiven, she types, I’m off work tomorrow.  Let me buy dinner and we can talk things over?  Not even waiting for a reply, knowing he’ll say yes, she lies back and tries to catch the sleep she so desperately needs.

Click here for the next chapter, Closing Time

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


ET ch 12 tutoring April 14 2017.jpg

Educating Thalia: Chapter 12

Collaboration by @devikafernando & @avenger-nerd-mom


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.”


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.


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.


“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


ET ch 11 april 12.pngChicago: Chapter 11

Educating Thalia

Collaboration by @devikafernando & @avenger-nerd-mom


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

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Rescue Mission Chapter 10

Educating Thalia

Collaboration by @devikafernando & @avenger-nerd-mom


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?”


“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

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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

No Decisions Today

no decisions today jan 1 2017.JPG

No Decisions Today

a Sunshine Story

a Chris Evans fan fic

By avenger-nerd-mom

Chris takes Sunshine home to meet the family and she receives an interesting phone call

Warnings: Language, adult situations, tickle fight, seriously way too much ice cream, fluff

Author’s Note: I feel like if I don’t post this story now, I never will.  Life is crazy and my original fiction is calling me! For the present time, this is the conclusion to the Sunshine series.- ANM 1/1/17

Word Count: 3176

After dinner is cleared away, the family retreats to the airy living room and I am loving every minute of it.  It makes me miss my family a bit, thinking of when we can all get together.  The boys are enjoying time with “Uncle Chris” and are taking turns diving off the couch and landing on him, much to Mama Lisa’s dismay.  She cringes each time, just waiting for someone to get hurt.

“Relax, Ma,” Carly chides as she sits on the couch next to me.  “You know he’ll catch them every time.  He’s the one that’s gonna be sore tomorrow.”  She says this with a smile as Chris moans when he’s kicked in the stomach again.

“Well, it makes me nervous.  I can’t stay here and watch.  Shanna, will you come help me set out dessert?”  Lisa rises from her chair, bending to straighten some magazines on the side table.  I swear the woman never stops moving.

Shanna rolls her eyes and I can’t hold in my giggles. I try to intervene on her behalf, knowing it’s difficult to be the youngest.  “Miss Lisa?  Can’t I help?  Please, I feel bad.  You haven’t let me lift a finger since I arrived and-”

“Sweetie, you just sit back and relax.  Help keep the kids busy; it’s all under control.”  She smiles warmly and walks staunchly towards the kitchen, the proud matriarch of the family.

I shrug my shoulders to Shanna as if to say, ‘I tried.’  Chris smiles up at me from the floor and winks, swatting at Shanna’s legs as she walks by.  “Thanks, sis,” he says, appreciation dripping from his rich, velvety voice.

The kids continue to roll around the room and play with their uncle, shrieking with delight when ‘Uncle Scott’ joins the fun.  One of the boys brushes against my bare foot and I quickly pull it away, lifting it up and tucking it under me as I sit and talk with Carly and her husband.

Later, the noise dies down and Carly goes off in search of the kids.  “It’s not the sound that bothers me; it’s the quiet.  That’s usually when they’re up to no good.”  She rises from the couch, and nudges her husband, who has drifted off to sleep.  He quietly snorts and pushes her hand away.

Chris’s muffled voice rises up from the floor, his arm draped over his closed eyes.  “They’re fine, Sis.  They wanted Scott to see where they plan to build their secret fort.  But it’s a secret.  You didn’t hear that from me.”

The mention of a secret fort jolts Ryan awake.  The tired parents set off in search of their offspring, mumbling about the influence of ‘Uncle Scott.’

Chris rolls over on his belly, a look of contentment and joy on his face.  His smile turns up in a childish grin, something on his mind.  “So, uh, Sunshine?  I couldn’t help but notice you pulled your foot away while the kids were playing.”

I sense of dread fills me but I keep my voice light.  “Yeah, I didn’t want them tripping over my big feet and getting hurt.”

Army crawling towards me on his stomach I know he knows.  Crap.  The look on his face is purely sinful.  “So, it’s not because you’re ticklish?”  His voice drops, adding an air of seduction to his play as his warm hands snakes under me and grabs my ankle.  I squirm away from him, but his hold is tight.

Christopher.  Don’t.  You.  Dare.”

He rises up on his knees, his too- tight shirt stretching over his chest drawing my attention to his beautiful form, distracting me for a moment. Chris wraps his other hand around my ankle and I try to kick him away, connecting with his shoulder and he laughs playfully.  “Sorry, sorry,” I whisper, just adding fuel to his laughter as he guffaws even more loudly.

Giving a forceful tug, he pulls me onto the floor next to him.  I land with a slight bounce, thankful once again for my extra padding. Squealing I scramble to crawl away from him, but his grip is tight and he throws his weight against me, pinning me to the ground. Crawling over me with a predatory look on his chiseled features, I admit defeat to myself knowing I really don’t want to get away.

My stomach flips and turns in knots and I know he’s going to win.  I try to block his attack as his hand roams up my side, poking and brushing over the stays of my tight blue sundress.  His hand flies up to my face and brushes my disheveled hair from my eyes.  “You’re really beautiful, Sunshine… How have you kept this a secret from me all this time?”  His breath is warm against me when his lips brush against mine. Shifting, his rugged beard tickles my face, dancing across my cheek to my neck. He moves his head back and forth assaulting me with the coarse bristles of his beard as he nips and bites at my tender skin and I can’t catch my breath.

“Stop,” I whine, pushing fruitlessly against his firm chest.  “That tickles; really.  Stop, please.”

“Aw, honey, you know I love when you beg…”  He continues to torment me with his beard while his hand digs and kneads at my rib cage, up and down; teasing me, tickling me, torturing me.  My legs rise up around him, trying to protect myself; trying to block his movements, my hands clutching at his strapping biceps to get him off me.

His attack really just provides us an innocent excuse to have our hands all over each other, appropriate for the family setting.  And I settle into the ticklish sensations taking over me, helpless giggles and quiet pleas escaping my lipstick stained mouth.  Breathless, my breasts heave and threaten to push over the top of my dress as he rolls off of me and snuggles against my side.

“Are you as oddly turned on as I am?”  Chris laughs, tucking fly-away hairs behind my ear, the delicate touch a trigger in my heightened state and I shudder against him.

I giggle, hiding my face under a pillow near us on the floor. “Oh my god, that will kill me, but yes. Lord, yes.”

He pulls the pillow from my face and gently leans over to kiss my soft lips, tenderly caressing my belly to slow my evident muscle spasms and calm my breathing.

“Uncle Chris! Dessert time! Grandma got your favorite ice cream!” One of the boys yells as he streaks through the living room, mimicking a gagging motion at the sight of our kisses.

“More food? I don’t think I could eat another thing!” I exclaim as Chris pulls me to my feet, purposely pushing his solid body into mine.

I catch him sneaking a quick glance to the kitchen doorway. I can’t see anyone standing there, so I don’t slap his hand away as he wraps his strong arms around me, hitching up my skirt and grasping my rounded ass.  “We aren’t done with this,” he growls predatorily into my ear, sending shivers down my spine.

I step away, taking my hand in his large paw and lead him to the kitchen.  I look over my shoulder and watch him following me like a puppy in his own home.

The sight on the kitchen counter is heaven.  I can definitely see where Chris developed his affinity for ice cream!  Lisa has pints of every flavor imaginable on the counter, with bowls of sprinkles, nuts and various toppings lined up.  Seeing the smile on my face, she grins back and says, “Chris tells me your favorite flavor is-”

I spot it and pull the container to me, taking a spoon.

“Hey! We are sharing!” Chris laughs.  “That’s not all for you!”

I raise my eyebrow at him and a devilish urge to challenge him flashes through me.  I lick the spoon quickly and stick it in the middle of the container.  Shanna laughs and hi-fives me, repeating the same action for the pint in front of her.

Scott scoffs. “Dammit. I don’t want any of that now… I don’t wanna think about where your mouth has been.”  He shudders and then hollers in pain when Carly slaps the back of his head.

“The kids are here. Behave,” she admonishes her youngest brother.  “I swear, it’s like living in a frat house when you two get together.  Not everything has to be R-rated, you know.”

“Scott, mind you manners and hold your tongue,” Lisa also scolds him, waving a bottle of electric blue dish soap at him.  All the adult Evans children groan, and to my right, Scott mumbles under his breath, “Worst punishment ever.” He shudders as if still remembering the taste of soap in his mouth.

I giggle, reaching across the bar to get the container of hot fudge and Chris pushes the bowl of cashews towards me.  “So, Christopher, was that a punishment you received often?”

The family chuckles at my use of his full name.  “Yeah, Uncle Christopher. Did Grandma ever soap your tongue?” one of the boys chimes in, climbing up on the stool across from me.

The family settles in to their pattern of storytelling and I instantly feel at home and warm in their presence. Looking around the counter and at the kids at the table, I see a little bit of each of them reflected in Chris.  I love seeing how the little ones are so much like their favorite uncle and I’m sure that creates trouble for Carly at times.

Stories continue, changing from one topic to the next. As the children get restless, Carly’s husband offers to take them up to bed.  By now, most of us have moved to more comfortable seats around the table.  Before saying goodnight, Stella crawls up in my lap and grasps the sides of my face in her chubby little hands.  “You’re fwuffy.  I wike it,” she declares as she leans in to kiss me on the cheek. I giggle at the tickle of her touch and her honest candor.

Carly’s eyes are filled with horror and I kiss the little girl back before blowing a raspberry on her cheek.  “I wike it too; fluffy girls have more fun,” I admit to her.  Looking around the room, I know why it was important for Chris to bring me home.  He wanted me to see that all the women in his life that are most important to him are ‘fluffy.’  To show me that I’m important to him…

“And we get to eat more cake,” she giggles as her dad pulls her from my lap into his arms.

“All the cake, sweet Princess,” Shanna laughs, tickling the bottom of her niece’s foot as Ryan carries her from the room.

Carly whispers her apologies and I just shrug them off.  “Carly, relax.  I’m a big girl,” I chuckle at the unintended play on words, tilting my head to the side.  “I can handle it; at least kids are honest about it.  And fluffy is the sweetest adjective I’ve ever heard; I’ll take that title.”

Patting her own motherly form, Lisa giggles.  “Fluffy?  I can deal with that too.  And I’m all for anything requiring cake,” she jokes as she cuts off a small piece to go with her ice cream.  “That little girl has amazing ideas.  I have no idea where she gets them.”

“Oh, not from any of the strong, independent, sassy women in this room, that’s for sure,” Scott delivers with heavy sarcasm, a beam of pride across his face.

Winking at me, nodding his head in understanding, Chris leans to me and looks at my container of ice cream.  “Not making much progress there Sunshine,” he teases.

“I never said I was eating the whole thing tonight but I claim it for the next few days we are in town.”  I lay my spoon down on his plate where he had brownies with his ice cream and lean back in my seat.  “I can’t eat another bite; Lisa you are an amazing cook!  All that home-cooked Italian food? I’d love to have some of those recipes.”

“Oh, no. No one can quite make it like Ma does,” Carly complains.  “I live with the woman; we cook together all the time.  But when I do it alone, it’s crap.  It’s like she leaves out one ingredient every time she gives me a recipe just so I won’t be as good as her.”

She glares at her mother, and I can tell this is an on-going tease in the family.

Chris pipes up.  “Sunshine is an amazing cook!” He leans back in his chair, his leg bumping against my thigh.  He pats his belly and proclaims, “All that Venezuelan food?  I think I’ve gained ten pounds.  Getting in shape for Cap is gonna be a bitch.”

I can hear Scott and Chris talking about his upcoming project, but I focus on the discussion of the women.  Shanna asks about the types of food I like to cook and she and Lisa convince me I should cook one night while we are in town.  Drawn back into our ‘girl talk’ as he puts it, Chris agrees to hosting a dinner party at his home .  He starts asking the family if they think his house is impersonal and I notice Lisa and Carly shy away from the chat. I don’t focus on the last of this conversation. My phone rings and I am flustered by the information on the screen.  I stand up abruptly and put my hand on his shoulder. “Work thing, gotta take it.”

He nods his head yes and keeps entertaining his family with his stories as I walk into the living room to take the call in private. Before I am out of earshot, I hear Scott over the low roar in the room, “Damn bro, she’s definitely different from your other girls you’ve brought home.  You really like her, don’t you?”

I can hear Carly.  “Nah, it’s love.  And he’s so far gone he doesn’t know what to do with himself, right lil’ bro?”

Shit.  Looking at my phone screen again, I do not want to know the answer to that question. I run quickly for the door and step out on the front porch, closing it loudly behind me.


Returning the kitchen, everyone’s face turns to me and I can’t hide my smile.  Chris rises from his chair, his eyes taking on a shade of green to match the shirt he wears, and smiles at me in anticipation.

“I got it; I got the job!”  I whisper, still in such shock I can’t believe it myself.

Chris picks me up and spins me around in a quick circle.  I giggle when I hear Scott’s gasp of disbelief and Carly hits the back of his head again.

“That’s amazing, Sunshine, I’m so happy for you!”  Taking my face in his large hands, Chris kisses me tenderly, but there is a sadness in his green eyes.  “This is what you want, right?”

“Yea, I think so, it’s my chance,” I shrug my shoulders and laugh, not being able to contain my joy.

Carly looks quizzically between the two of us, and asks cautiously, “A new job?  That’s great!  What- what is it?”  Her gaze lingers on Chris and I wonder about his confession to his siblings while I was outside, but that will be for us to discuss later.

Sinking back into my chair and sighing deeply, I fight to find the words, torn between the good and the bad.  “Months ago, before I started working for Christopher, I had a job with a TV exec down in the valley.  She had me audition for an idea of a design show she wanted to put together…”  I watch as a most proud smile breaks across Chris’s face as the news sinks in and he grips my hand a bit tighter, sitting back down next to me.  I notice Mama Lisa’s gaze is on her son, and his reactions to my words, but I continue my news.  “Well, she got the go ahead from the cable network and the other execs want me to do the show.” Saying it out loud the crazy story becomes real, and I giggle nervously.   I turn to look at him. “Me, Christopher… I’m gonna be on TV, redoing homes and giving decorator secrets.  Can you believe it?”

“Fuckin’ wicked, Sunshine.  That’s amazing.”  Raising my hand to his lips, he kisses the back of my hand, tears of happiness in his eyes.  His family chimes in with their words of congratulations and well wishes. “I’m so proud of you; my girl’s gonna be a TV star,” he chuckles.  My heart soars with his faith in me and I tell him so.

“No one’s ever believed in me the way you do; honey.  Your support keeps me going, even when I want to give up, and I…” I pause as the words choke in my throat, fighting back my own tears.  “I will always love you for it.”

One by one, his family begins to sneak away, realizing this may be a bigger discussion than they are ready to witness.

His face falls and sadness momentarily takes away his good looks.  I hate to think of causing him pain and grief.  I pinch my eyes shut and when I open them, a weak smile has returned to his visage. “Sunshine, what are you saying?  I love you too, whatever this is, we can figure it out.”

He’s finally said the words I desperately longed to hear and now I feel they’re a little too late.

Caressing the side of his face, I say what he hasn’t pieced together yet.  “I start filming the same time you’ll be leaving for Georgia in the Spring.  I can’t go with you; I know we talked about it and had plans, but-”

“Shhh, Sunshine.  You’re my light.”  Chris sits up and scoots his chair closer,  placing his arm across my belly and resting it on the edge of my chair.  “You’re talking like this is good-bye.  I’m crazy about you…”  With his other hand, he traces his fingers across my hummingbird tat before looking up into my eyes, both of us with tears threatening to spill over.  “I love you, my Sunshine, and we don’t have to decide anything for now.  Okay?”  His once powerful voice is now barely a whisper on a his breath.  “Promise me that?”

Sighing deeply, I shake my head slightly, knowing he’ll want to stretch out the inevitable.  Choking back my tears, I place my lips gently to his, tasting the mixed salt of our tears.  Still caressing the side of his cheek, I slide my nose against his, and whisper the words softly against his skin.  “Right, we don’t have to decide anything today.  We still have several months to figure it all out; it’s vacation. No decisions today..”

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


Bringing Sunshine to Boston

brining Sunshine to Boston August 29 2016

Bringing Sunshine to Boston

A Sunshine Story

By avenger-nerd-mom

Chris X plus size OFC Sunshine

Actor Chris Evans brings his girlfriend “Sunshine” to Boston to meet the family, but they make a quick stop at his house first

Warnings: NSFW, Language, Adult Situations, Oral Sex, Restraints, Fingering, Nipple Play, Rough Sex, Intercourse, Aftercare

Word Count: 2979

Chris nervously unlocks the front door.  “Ok now, honey, don’t judge.” He chuckles as he reaches in to turn on the lights.  “This place needs a make-over too, but you know I really don’t care.  I probably wouldn’t even have hired you in the first place if it wasn’t for that stupid magazine article.”

“Really selling me on it, dear.  Move. Let me see how bad it is,” I push him aside and step into Chris’s Boston home.  We’ve got a few hours to kill before meeting his family at his mother’s house for dinner and due to… events on the morning plane ride, we both need to freshen up.

Chris laughs and says, “Be my guest.” He carries our bags in from the porch as I walk from room to room.  Cream. Very little color. Few personal accents.  I can’t believe what I see.  It makes me really sad for him.  After a quick survey of the ground floor I meet him at the steps.  His blue and white baseball jersey t-shirt is the most colorful thing present in the foyer.

“Damn, honey.  You live here right?  I thought Boston was home and would be different,” I shake my head sadly.

Confused, Chris raises his eyebrow.  “What? It’s nice, right? Minimalist? Clean lines?”

I put my hand over his beating heart on his solid chest.  “Christopher, it looks like Ikea threw up in here and it has no personality.  Where are you?  Where’s your heart in it? Things you love?” I look around the open space and physically cringe.  “I really thought LA was just your show place, and this would really be you.  Earthy, dark woods, leather. Color. Something.  What the fuck, babe? I just wanna rush to the nearest hardware store and get buckets of paint.”

Leaning against the rail, Chris seems a little crushed.  “I really thought you’d like it.”

I lean into him, caressing my hand across the prickly beard on his cheek.  “Oh, pet, don’t get me wrong.  I love the windows, and the natural light.  It is nice and streamlined, but it’s not what I expected from you.  This is just another showcase house.  Where do you get to really be you?”


The bedroom is an improvement, definitely more of what I was hoping to see.  Hanging in beautiful frames are enlarged photos he tells me he took himself of his spiritual trip to India a few years ago.  The taupe colored walls are accented by the large four poster bed.   And covered in decorative pillows.  There must be twenty.  Throwing them all to the floor, I wait for him to finish his shower.

I admire his personal effects on the oak shelves surrounding the bed, photos of close friends and family, mementos of his travels courtesy of Marvel.  Smiling, I drag my fingertips over dusty framed pieces of artwork, a collection of Cap that younger children have obviously given to him over the years.  The types of things he should have on display through the whole house.  

I settle down among the pillows and wait. He’s taking forever.  When the bathroom door opens I can hear him step into the room, but I know he can’t see me on the floor, over the height of the bed.

“Sunshine?” he asks quizzically.

Popping up on my knees, only my head is visible to him over the top of the fluffy down comforter.  My breath catches at the sight of him in just a towel, wrapped low on his waist.

london towel

Drops of water still bead in his chest hair and his short summer haircut sticks up in all directions.  In the dim light with the shades drawn, the black ink on his skin appears sinister and a chill runs down my spine. A heat rushes to my core and I’m instantly ready for however he wants to spend the afternoon.  After I get what I want.   Patting the padded surface, my voice is flirtatious and sultry.  “Why don’t you come around here, big boy?”

A smile breaks across his face. “What’d you do with all the pillows?” he asks.

“You’ll see.”

Watching him step around the edge of the bed, he surveys the mountain of pillows underneath and surrounding my naked figure and he chuckles.

“Well, hello beautiful,” he whistles between his teeth.  I adore that he says he loves my plump curves, that my love handles are just more of me for him to hold on to when we make love. And when he responds that way, I believe him.

“Your ass just begs for a spanking.”

I can see he’s already sprung to attention, wondering what I have in mind.

Patting the bed again, I drop my arm to open a space for him to move in front of me, to sit on the bed.  He sits naturally, resting one hand on his thigh, spreading his legs, smiling when I lick my lips and reach my hand up under the towel.  My hand wraps around his warm cock, heated from the shower.  With a few tight grasps and squeezes, he grows harder at my attentions.  “Mmm… Big boy is exactly right,” I murmur, reaching with my other hand to pull the towel lose.

Chris leans back on his hands, taking a deep breath of contentment as I brush my full lips across his head.  I tease him a bit, toying with him as I simply run his head back and forth over my closed mouth, my tongue occasionally darting out to lick his soft velvety skin.

That action elicits a groan from the back of his throat. “Babe, you’re teasing.”

My lips kiss down the side of his shaft, wet and sloppy, humming,  “Mmm- hmm.  Just like you teased me on the plane.”

Chuckling, his head drops forward to his chest to watch.  “I finally let you come,” he reminds me, his voice lust filled as he grows under my touch.

Kissing back up the other side, adding the intermittent nibble, I respond,  “Uh-huh, after edging me four times…”

“Was it only four? Yea, don’t do that to me,” he snickers.  “I fuckin’ hate it.”

His words sound distant to my ears as I focus on doing what I love best; making my man melt.  Bringing my luscious opening over the top of his head, I pull him in, taking his swollen tip into my hot, wet mouth. My lips wrap around the sweet bell, skimming my teeth just slighting and dragging my manicured fingertips up his thighs.  He lets out a quiet hiss as my thumbs massage at the space between his legs, gently applying pressure under his balls, soft and tender.

Stroking my tongue across his slit, I savor the taste of him on my tongue.  With each advance I take more of him in slowly.  Titling my head back, I watch his response.  I pull off, teasing “Hmm… you’d hate that would you?”

“Fuck,” he growls, realizing he’s unwittingly given me a challenge.

His eyes lock on mine as I confidently pull him back inside my cherished oral space, my lips flush against his shaft, sliding up and down as my hands continue their tease.

He slides forward on the bed pushing into my mouth with a thrust.  His pupils dilate and the sea of blue is lost as his need clouds his vision.

My hands extend their roaming, my thumbs dipping between his ass cheeks and flitting across his rim in a stimulating rhythmic pattern.  His groan stirs my gut and I become aware of the pooling of juices inside my pussy,  waiting for my turn.  My eyes close as I continue my task, sloppily sucking him, pulling him close to his desired end.  He shifts as he sits up, winding his hands in my hair, holding me firmly on his cock.  I struggle against him and he grasps tighter. Clenching my jaw at his force, I dig my teeth slightly into his flesh,my tongue lapping against his hard cock as he holds me firmly.

“No biting,” he warns, pulling my hair tight, tilting my head back to look up at him.

My mouth releases it’s steady hold around his cock into a knowing smile, but I can’t comment back at the moment.  He uses his grip to hold me in place as he lifts his hips and thrusts into my mouth, repeating the rough action several times until my eyes water.  Nearly reaching his limits, he pulls out and pushes me onto my back into the pile of pillows.

“Maybe they’re good for something after all,” he bitches about the pillows as he falls to the floor next to me, leaning on his elbow.  With one hand between my thick thighs and the other grasping my ample breast he starts to work me over.  Pulling one of my tits to his mouth, he sucks in quickly and grasps my nipple between his teeth.  A shocked cry escapes my lips as he also penetrates between my folds with two fingers, pushing hard to find the magic spot. “You like being teased; you’re still wet,” he praises.

My hands reach for his cock but he pushes one out of the way, bringing it above my head and holding it down firmly.  Fingering me roughly he continues to suckle at my breast as I pull and tug on his hard rod.  I raise my ass off the floor to push harder into his hand, wanting more than he’s already giving.  Gyrating against him, he slides another finger in.  Happy with his acceptance of my silent directions, I drop my ass back to the floor and raise my feet up on the bed behind him.  He continues to finger me, turning his hand so his palm brushes against my clit with each drive.   The pressure causes me a flash of pain, changing the sounds of my moans. He looks up from my tit, but through gritted teeth I tell him not to stop.

His grip on my wrist is stronger as he moves to take the other nipple between his teeth.  My free hand holds his balls, carefully yanking and rolling between my fingers.  He knows if he gets too rough, I won’t go easy on him and I snort with laughter at the thought.  He laughs at me, probably having no idea why I’m amused during our sex. His deep baritone sound vibrates through me and a searing heat hits me in the middle. He continues to palm me. Thrusting in with his beautiful fingers, he curves them in, a master at finding the perfect spot, until I can feel the tightening in my core.

Sensing it too, he changes his position.  I hear the crinkle of the condom package and briefly wonder where he pulled that from. Under the bed? He moves quickly to climb over top of me and slams into me hard, forcing the air from my lungs.  With my feet up on the bed, I push back against him grinding with him. “Fuck me,” I whisper.

His sinfully delicious smile lights up his face. “Want it rougher?”


He moves my other hand up binding them both together now under his, holding me still, as if I’d fight him.  With his other hand, he claws at my fleshy hip, pulling out his thick, satisfying cock.  Each drive feels deeper than the one before, the thrusts moving me off the pillows till I’m on the floor.  I can feel rug burns starting on my ass. And I love every goddamn minute.  I wrap my legs around his slim waist, holding him to me, rocking my hips up to meet each pounding exertion.

I’m so turned on by this man and the love he gives me.  His strength and power.  I love his weight on me, making me for once feel small and dainty.  With his cocky damn eyebrow he smirks at me with each stroke.  “Kiss me, “ I breathe out, needing him to tear into me and finish it.  I can’t bear the tease any more.  “Take me; slam it.”

His mouth hungrily meets my primed lips, brushing his nose against mine.  I love how tactile he is, gentle even when he’s rough.  Eventually we should say those three damn words.  He pushes my wrists into the floor and I know to keep them there.  He supports himself over me with one beautiful bicep in my line of sight as his other hand lifts under my ass, melding us even closer together. Each spot where our bodies connect sends messages of pleasure through the rest of my body.

Screaming out as the orgasm rips through me, I feel our energies join as one.  My mind is filled with nonsense that is incomprehensible, and I love he does that to me.  Totally incoherent thoughts. Wanting to shout out ‘love, love, love.’

After several more forceful invasions with his greedy cock, Chris’s body tenses as he comes, his fingers possessively digging into my beautiful fat ass. Undeniably his favorite feature!  With a sigh, he collapses on top of me, nuzzling into my neck.  Our breaths match one another and slowly we still, returning to a calm.  I wrap my arms around him, feeling his weight on me, laughing when he flips us over and he hits his head on the dresser.  “Fuckin’ meatball,” he mutters irritably.

cuddles 5

His hands roam over my back and brush over my ass. The carpet burns sting and I hiss at his touch. “Shit, babe, I’m sorry, I-”

“I’m not. Stop. You fuck me so well; don’t ever apologize,” I clearly state, making sure he both hears and understands

“Christopher, I love the way you make me feel; I like the pain mixed with the pleasure. It’s hot as fuck, so don’t you dare apologize.”

“Yes ma’am,” he chuckles, arranging one of the pillows under his head as I snuggle up to his side.  He raises his arm so we both can see his watch. “Time for a nap before we clean up again to go to Mom’s?”

I run my fingers over his soft chest hairs, tweaking his nipple, watching him tickle his lower lip with his mustache. “Or we could go buy paint?”

“What? You were serious?” He shifts and raises up my chin so he can see my face better. “It’s that bad? You really don’t like it?”

Oh, shit. I can see the hurt on his face.  After getting pounded to the floor, literally, my body aches. Sitting up to stretch I pull a pillow to me, stuffing it under my ass to provide cushion as I sit.  I wince as my broken skin makes contact with the textured fabric.

“You’re moving slow to think about what to say,” Chris infers as he also sits up and reaches over to open a bottom drawer, pulling out a small bottle of aloe.  He motions for me to lay across his lap and prepares to apply the soothing ointment to my small injuries.

Gasping as the cool creme makes contact with the heated skin, I whisper. “Oh God, that feels heavenly.  Mmm,mmm… thank you, baby.” I lay for a moment, enjoying his tender care.  “Christopher, I know what to say, I just don’t want to hurt your feelings.”

His hands knead the flesh and caress down my thighs as well, getting lost in his admiration of my full figure.  God bless this boy.  

“I’m a grown man; I can take it.”  His voice indicates he is distracted by the movement of his hands over my ass, and that he really doesn’t care about the house, but about my opinion of the house.

Leaning over he kisses the colorful tat of a four leaf clover on my left ass cheek, gently blowing across my skin, cooling the damaged areas. A chill runs up my spine at the gentle and loving aftercare he gives. So good to me always, in all ways.

Sighing, I start to list the things my decorator’s eye wants to fix.  “It’s not horrible: I would actually design this for someone else… But not for you.” I rub my fingers through the hairs on his thigh under me, wanting contact with him while I deliver the hard truth.  “It’s cold, it’s unwelcoming, it’s bland.  There’s no color.  That’s not who you are.  I saw the gym as we came up here.  It has more personality than the downstairs!  This room? This room is amazing!  Baby, this room is you.  The rest of the house should look like this.. Little pieces of you, your family and your career scattered everywhere.  Fun and playful, like you.”  I twist to look at him and see my words hit home.

He raises his eyebrow, and slowly nods his head.  “And how much is this going to cost me?” He laughs.  “Shit!  Are more goddamn decorator pillows involved?”

“No more pillows. I swear.  I can re-use these.”  I rise to my feet, and reach out to pull him up next to me. I love the feel of his rock solid chest against my soft full tits.  “I just hate that the house doesn’t reflect your warmth, charm and personality.  If you mean it, I can actually rework a lot of this with some paint, fabric… oh, and we’ll need-”

“Shhh.”  Laughing, he reaches his hands to cup my face, his eyes searching mine. Before kissing me, he caresses his beard against the side of my face and I lick my lips in anticipation of his plump lips meeting mine.

“Maybe Boston seems cold because it didn’t have my own personal Sunshine in it until now.” His smile lights up his face and my heart just melts as he leans in to kiss the tip of my nose. His hot breath brushes across my skin as he whispers, “What colors do you suggest, babe?”

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