Going Places

ch 9 going places jan 30 2019

Going Places

Being Thalia

Chapter 9

By avenger-nerd-mom & devikafernando

AU Fan Fiction

In the sequel to Educating Thalia, the lovely Thalia Bareo is trying to grow up, making her own way in the world after losing both men she loved, Professors Chris Evans and Tom Hiddleston. The sassy full-figured Puerto Rican girl from Chicago holds down a job as she tries to deal with the real world. She continues her studies and freelances as a consultant for museums around the world. Being Thalia updates are posted on Wednesdays and Sundays.

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

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

If you are looking for other stories in the sequel, click here for the beginning of Being Thalia

Summary: With love on her side, Thalia faces another big change in her life.

Previous Chapter, Getaway

Word count 857

2020, September

The now tattered yellow envelope rests in her lap, symbolizing she’s finally grown up. Accustomed to the cabin pressure, oceanic flights no longer are the stress they once were, and Thalia realizes as she drifts to sleep, she’s a nomad again, this time with no one to fall back on for comfort. But she couldn’t say no to Madrid. Her thoughts drift back to the moment that would change her whole life and the man who supported her somewhat scary decision.

***

Chris beams with pride. “Sweetheart, why are you so nervous to ask me this? I’ve seen that envelope on your office shelf. You’ve been sitting on this job offer for months, haven’t you? That’s crazy. You know I can’t keep you from going, anymore than I can ask you to stay here.”

Thalia squirms down in his lap better, to rest her head on his shoulder. She can’t look him in the eye. Can’t bear to watch his face. His beautiful, stupid face. “Part of me wants you to do just that,” she chuckles softly. The envelope falls from her lap, landing on the floor. “Part of me has always wanted you to do that. Lay claim to me.”

“Oh, Thalia,” he sighs, kissing the top of her head. “You know I love you, always have, always will, but I know now I can’t keep you. You’re a wild creature, not meant to be tamed. I can’t uproot Avery from her school, and move her away from her mother and step-dad. And she can’t grow up without me nearby. My life is here, and let’s be honest, yours isn’t.” He pushes her off his lap, twisting her so he can look down into her big brown eyes. “You don’t think I saw the panic on your face a few weeks ago, while we waited to see if there were one or two lines on that stick?” He blows out a puff of air. “We would have loved that baby, but that’s not who you are… You’re so good with Avery, and her friends, but babies?” He chuckles softly. “You’ve always had dreams, and they never really included me.”

He holds his finger up to her mouth when she starts to protest. “Thalia, I’ve held you back too long. It’s time I’m the bigger person, to follow your dad’s advice.” His eyes fill with tears. “I can’t keep you locked up here; I know you have to go. Madrid is the opportunity of a lifetime. You’d grow to hate me, resent Avery, if you turned it down. You have to go.

That night, they’d made love with wild abandon, a goodbye of sorts.

But over the weeks, as she packed her remaining belongings, when she’d wake in the morning, the bed would be empty. Chris would be gone on his morning run.

Even though she never runs, why does she always feel like she’s running away?

***

Eight months later, the messy desk looks the same, although many notes are scribbled in Spanish and the view is different. The trusty tennis ball rolls to the floor when she bumps her hip against the desk. Bending to retrieve it, she straightens quickly when a rugged voice startles her. “Ah, Señorita Bareo. Maybe one of the most lovely figures we have on display here at the Museo Arqueológico Nacional.”

Smoothing down her skirt, she smiles kindly at the gentleman standing in the doorway. “Antonio. I thought you left at two for siesta. Why are you still here?”

“I thought I should live more americano if I’m going to keep up with you, or I could at least convince you to go with me for a drink?”

The itinerary for her trip to London stares up at her from her desk. She runs her hands over the type.

“Señorita?” he asks again, pointing to the door.

“Can we discuss the presentation for the conference?” she asks her colleague, tossing her datebook and notes in her leather bag.

The handsome gentleman loosens his tie. “I was hoping for something a bit more personal,” he chuckles. “But if you’ll leave this office on the pretense of work, then yes. We can talk work.”

Her mantra repeats in her brain. New life. New adventures. Move on. New life. New adventures. Move on…

***

Searching for her shoes in his dark apartment the next morning, her mantra and hangover make her want to throw up. How can a former barmaid not be able to handle her liquor in this damn foreign place?

She collapses on his couch, pulling the heels onto her tired feet. Antonio’s dog hops up on the couch next to her. “¿Qué carajos estoy haciendo aquí?” she whispers to the dog, nuzzling into his neck. “What the fuck am I doing here?” she repeats. Do dogs understand universal languages? She shakes her head, buckling the strap around her ankle.

Está temprano, come back to bed, mi dama,” Antonio announces, standing in the doorway in his boxers, rubbing his hands over his chest.

She shakes her head no, rising to stand. “No, Antonio. I’m not your lady. I think I’ve made a big mistake.”

Click here to read Chapter 10, Running in Circles

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

Family Matters

ch 7 family matters

Family Matters

Chapter 7

By avenger-nerd-mom & devikafernando

AU Fan Fiction

In the sequel to Educating Thalia, the lovely Thalia Bareo is trying to grow up, making her own way in the world after losing both men she loved, Professors Chris Evans and Tom Hiddleston. The sassy full-figured Puerto Rican girl from Chicago holds down a job as she tries to deal with the real world. She continues her studies and freelances as a consultant for museums around the world. Being Thalia updates are posted on Wednesdays and Sundays.

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

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

If you are looking for other stories in the sequel, click here for the beginning of Being Thalia

Summary: Chris spends a rainy afternoon with his two favorite women.

Previous Chapter, Warpath

Word Count 1539

2019, Fall Semester

The storm beats against the window but it’s not the tapping rain driving him crazy. Stretched out on the couch and wiggling his feet, Chris tosses his book down on the table, addressing the cause of his annoyance. “Avery, bring me that. You’re done. You’re gonna run down the battery, and then be mad later.” When his daughter chooses to ignore him, he turns to Thalia, leaning against the kitchen counter and silently appeals to her. She smirks at him, and he childishly answers by sticking out his tongue.

His curvy companion claps her hands together, getting the child’s attention. The little blonde head sways in her direction, barely taking her eyes from the gadget that’s held her enraptured for the last hour. “Hey, kiddo! Bring me the phone. I wanna show you something.” Thalia points to the array of goodies laid out on the counter. “You gotta have both hands free to help.”

Chris grimaces, watching the young girl comply and giving no grief when Thalia places the phone on top of the fridge. With the power out for nearly four hours, they’re all becoming a little squirrely. He pretends not to hear Thalia scold the young girl for ignoring him, and he tilts his head thoughtfully when Avery’s sweet voice offers a quiet apology. “It’s okay, ‘Ry, but you need to follow our house rules. No phones all day.”

He and his ex have debated the issue back and forth. Maura insisted the child needed a phone to stay in contact when they’re apart. All the woman does is send Snaps, interrupting his family time. In the habit of ignoring her stepfather, Avery has developed a bad practice of discounting him as well, and responds better to Thalia’s guidance. He sits back at the table, observing his pretty little girl climbing up on the stool next to his lovely girlfriend. The two put their heads together, eyeing the snack foods and whispering together.

Girlfriend? Is she though?

rainy day

He can’t shake the thought. They’ve never made official proclamations about one another, simply falling back into their old ways. After a week or two of sneaking around last spring to keep their frantic lovemaking secret from his impressionable daughter, it just became an unspoken thing. Once Avery was in bed during her visits, they’d climb the stairs together, curl up under the covers, and spend hours reading, talking, watching late night TV… Or making love. Desperately. Madly. Wildly. Like he hadn’t done in ages. Something about her body, her spirit, fixing everything broken inside him… And over a course of a few weeks, her clothes made their way into his closet, her personal items into the bathroom. Just like that, they were a couple again.

Thalia had gained a small amount of notoriety on campus after Joanna Kent was asked to step down from her position. It was revealed that she had been hiding inappropriate relations with students for years, indiscriminate in her choices. Several prominent community leaders were having their old transcripts reviewed, including a well-known Congresswoman. The University was looking into the possibility that grades were traded for sexual favors and keeping quiet. In the wake of the investigation, several couples working on campus came forward, admitting they had begun dating under unsavory conditions. Although they never admitted their prior involvement, Chris and Thalia began dating openly, and no one questioned it.

rainy day 2

Watching the scene in front of him, Chris sighs, not wanting to forget a single moment of their time together, but knowing it won’t last. Thalia’s too much of a free will. Chris has seen it, noticed her moods, the way she shuts down her email when he walks by or how she closely watches travel documentaries, hanging on every word.

It’s not another man calling her, but another place. Another stop on her adventure in life.

He tries not to take it personally that he and Avery can’t be her permanent home, but he knows they can love her and mend her as long as she gives them that chance.

“Come here, Chris, you’re in on this too. If the power isn’t back on by dinner, we may have to call around and see if any restaurants are open, if they have power. But for now, we can have snacks for lunch today.” She points at the old metal pot in front of her. “I need your lighter.”

Standing from the couch, he faces away from her, hiding his ‘oh, shit’ face. He’d been doing his best to keep his clandestine smoking away from the house, usually when he and some of the professors would go for a drink after work. He should have known she’d figured it out. She always figures things out. Regaining his composure, he spins on his heels, and just shrugs. Thalia tilts her head with a lift of her eyebrow, not buying it, and he reaches into his pocket, pulling forth the lighter in question.

“Uh-huh,” she fusses, bumping his shoulder, her dark eyes reminding him she sees everything. “Avery, you pick two things you wanna taste dipped in chocolate while your dad fires up this burner. We’re gonna fondue!”

Chris’s quizzical eyebrow speaks for him. He answers her unspoken words, rolling his eyes. “Yes, I know what fondue is.” He feigns insult, much to the giggles of little Avery. Popping off the top of the sterno can, he looks over the spread. “Potato chips. Where are the potato chips?”

“Oooh,” Thalia stretches out the word, tapping Avery on the back. “Good call! Go get the chips from the drawer for Poppa.”

She follows orders, her pink glitter shoes tapping across the floor as she asks questions about how to fondue. “You mean we’re gonna stab the pineapple and stick it in?”

Thalia continues chopping the fruit Avery requested while Chris drops in the chocolate to melt. Avery returns to her perch atop the stool and reaches for the graham crackers and starts breaking them apart and laying them neatly on a platter. “Well, we don’t have to stab all of it. The cherries have a stem, so you can just dip them in, but careful, Avery, ‘cuz they have a pit.” She dangles a piece of the fruit in question over the little girl’s mouth and she stretches up from the seat to grasp it in her teeth. Cherry juice dribbles down her chin and she hops down to the floor again to run over to the sink to wash up.

Flame lit, Chris wraps one arm around Thalia’s hip, pulling her close and whispering in her ear, “Bet you can tie that stem with your tongue in no time flat.”

“I’ll show you later,” she says, turning to kiss his cheek and hiding her blush from Avery.

“Lia, how come you know this stuff?” the little girl asks, rooted on the stool once more as she lays out more potato chips on the tray.

Chris stirs the chocolate as Thalia tells about visits to her mom’s when she was younger. He’s heard them before, the sad stories of her visits to her mother’s dingy little apartment, with limited heat and scarce resources. She makes the experience sound more fun when she retells it to Avery, but he can read the pain behind her eyes. Giving her shoulder a squeeze, he nuzzles his nose in her hair. Wired from the humidity of the storm, it tickles his cheek as he kisses her shoulder. “I love you, Niña,” he whispers, holding her close. She tilts her head to his, collecting his compassion before Avery distracts her again. “Cheesecake. Do we still have the frozen cheesecake bites in the freezer from the block party?”

“You always know just how to make everything better, don’t you?”

“What was bad? How did Poppa fix anything?” Avery asks Thalia as Chris slides in his socks across the finished floor to the fridge.

His two favorite women continue to chatter on as he uses the flashlight on his phone, digging around in the freezer. “He knows sometimes that talking about my birth mom makes me sad, but you’re a lucky girl! Because your father believes cheesecake fixes everything.”

Avery giggles, the sound reaching across the room.

“It does,” Chris bellows, still searching through labeled packages of frozen items. “Everyone knows that.”

“This fun-do stuff? Will Miss Stacey know how to fix it if the ‘lectricity goes out when she comes to stay with me for a week?”

“When we’re gone for the conference to Toronto next month, I’ll make sure she knows how to fix all your favorite foods,” says Thalia. “And what to do if the power goes out.”

“Will you bring me postcards and a t-shirt too?”

“Canada? We’ll bring back some maple syrup,” Chris calls out, finding the bag he’s been searching for, waving it over his head in victory, just as the overhead lights flicker back on.

“He fixed the power!” Avery cheers. “Oh!” She whines, her bottom lip already starting to quiver. “Does that mean we can’t have our chocolate lunch?”

Chris laughs, humored by their shared love of sweets. Reaching over, he flicks off the lights, returning the room to candlelight and the afternoon gloom of a rainstorm with the people he loves most in the world.

Images from Pinterest

Click for next chapter, Getaway

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

Warpath

warpath jan 20 2019

Warpath

Chapter 6

By avenger-nerd-mom & devikafernando

AU Fan Fiction

In the sequel to Educating Thalia, the lovely Thalia Bareo is trying to grow up, making her own way in the world after losing both men she loved, Professors Chris Evans and Tom Hiddleston. The sassy full-figured Puerto Rican girl from Chicago holds down a job as she tries to deal with the real world. She continues her studies and freelances as a consultant for museums around the world. Being Thalia updates are posted on Wednesdays and Sundays.

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

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

If you are looking for other stories in the sequel, click here for the beginning of Being Thalia

Summary: Someone is a little bitter about Thalia’s collection of professors.

Previous Chapter, Sensitivity Training

Word Count 1676

2019, Summer Semester

Thalia watches the ball bounce back and forth, catching it each time. She briefly wonders what would happen if she shifted her aim a foot to the right. Would the windows shatter? Would she be responsible to replace them?

She bounces it again, and catches it, on repeat.

Her rhythm is only broken when her phone rings. She snatches the ball from the air and lays it on her desk. Dropping her feet to the floor, she swivels in her chair. Leaning forward against the fake wood surface, she reaches in her back pocket and pulls out the device.

“Hey, babe? What’s up?” Thalia asks. Her melancholy hangs with her, and her voice is dry and devoid of emotion. She sighs.

“Sounds like a long day,” the familiar voice offers. Rich and deep, it washes over her like a salve to her soul. “Wanna go for a run? Avery’s at dance, and her mother is picking her up after, for the night.”

“Evans? How long have you known me?” She chuckles, reaching for the pale yellow envelope propped against her lamp. “How many times are you gonna ask me for a run before you realize I’m never gonna say yes? How many times do I gotta tell you, my thighs could chafe and start a small fire?”

His laughter echoes through the line and she smiles, picturing him in her mind’s eye. “Well, babe, you were a sophomore when you were in my class?” He teases. “Before you could legally drink? I don’t know, it feels like we’ve known each other forever, and I’ve told you a million times, that’s not how fires work.”

She chuckles and feigns indignance. “Are you saying I’m getting old and I’m not hot enough?”

“Definitely hot enough. And you keep me young. I’m the one getting older.” He scoffs. “I can skip the run tonight. Why don’t you come home and let me show you how hot I think you are?”

Running her finger over the embossed gold lettering on the envelope, she smiles, daydreaming about the sexy flecks of gray in his scruffy beard. “I’ll be home in twenty minutes. Have a shower ready.”

Tucking the phone in her back pocket, she puts the yellow envelope high on the shelf behind her. It could change everything, but it’s not pressing now. Out of sight, out of mind. She shuffles around some papers, organizing stacks to grade and notes to research. Picking up the large manuscript, post-its sticking out everywhere, she thumps her finger over her name on the cover page. Tilting her head to the right, she gasps when it pops, but realizes the tension in her neck fades. She shoves the draft into her bag and reaches for her jacket.

“You leaving?” calls the voice from across the hall.

“Yeah,” she replies stepping to the hall and locking the door behind her.

Professor Hemsworth stands from behind his desk. “Let me walk you out, it’s kinda late and there’s been talk around campus, girls getting attacked at night.”

“There’s always talk,” she leans in the door frame. “Young kids, no parents, frat parties and bars nearby… I went to the seminar earlier this week with some of my students for the training on how to defend yourself.”

The muscular blond grabs his bag from the couch and joins her in the hallway, locking his door. “That’s good. You took care of yourself, knew what to do. That’s good you talk about it, let your students learn from you.”

“It was tough as hell, Hems, not really shit I wanna talk about.” She shrugs. “But now I’ve been invited to speak at two dorm house meetings next week, and possibly the keynote speaker at the rally sorority row is planning for next month, when everyone’s back on campus.”

“A wonderful role model for these young women.” He reaches his arm around her shoulder and pulls her close. “You’re tough. I respect that.” Walking down the hallway, he tenderly kisses the top of her head. “Like a Valkyrie.” His deep, thick accent is full of pride in his friend. “Full of such complex emotion, warm and caring, faithful and loyal to men. Unless they need an ass kicked.”

Reaching the stairwell, Professor Joanna Kent falls into footsteps with them, and uninvited, joins their conversation. “Depends on the works you read, Professor Hemsworth. Not all Valkyries were so innocent. You should know that.”

Hemsworth halts their steps, nonchalantly standing between the two women. Thalia feels a vulnerability, standing a few steps below her former professor, a woman she slighted, not once but twice. Kent has had it out for her since her return to the university as a colleague. “What do you mean, Mrs. Kent?” Chris Hemsworth asks, resting his hand on the stair railing. Thalia shifts her weight, hiding behind the expanse of his broad back, holding in her glee at his dismissal of her preferred title.

“In my studies of Norse mythology, Valkyrie are often depicted as cold, cunning women, true evil beings who take advantage of the men with whom they have affairs. They seem to have considerable control of those around them, often domineering and bold.”

Blood starts to curse through Thalia’s veins, understanding Kent’s play on words. Waiting out the cat fight, she takes another approach. Stepping from behind her protector, Thalia smiles, “Oh, Joanna, I had no idea you saw me as ‘domineering and bold!’ That’s really a kick ass compliment, thank you.” Kent splutters, at a loss for words. Thalia wrinkles her forehead, changing her expression to one of confusion. “I mean, that’s what you meant, right? ‘Cuz, it kinda sounded like a slam, that you think I’m an evil bitch, but it was also mixed with praise. I am all for bold dommes.” Running her hands down her side, and straightening her crisp white dress shirt, she grins. “You like that type, right?”

“Girl,” Kent growls, leaning forward, creating enough presence Hemsworth actually shrinks back. “Watch it.” She wags her finger in Thalia’s face. “I should have nailed your ass to the wall when I had the chance-”

Thalia begins to walk away, “You never had that chance. You’re not my type.”

Kent snarls. “Listen, Missy, I know what you were up to then, and I see it now. You’re just zebra island trash. What makes you think you can go around collecting all the pretty boys on campus? Everyone knows why you got a job here, sleeping your way up.”

Thalia lunges forward, Kent stepping back and Hemsworth, eyes wide with shock, restraining her. “You fuckin’ bitch, you don’t know shit and how dare you slur against me? I’ll have your damn job for that, because I’m sure derogatory racial comments rank higher as “socially unacceptable” than me fucking a professor.” Climbing up another step, she stands eye level with Kent. “You’re still pissed he couldn’t get it up for you, you old goat, and mad I rejected your advances too. Come at me; see what happens.”

She pushes past Kent, going back up the stairs, Hemsworth following.

“What the actual fuck was that?” He smiles nervously.

hemsworth smiles

She holds up her hand, already opening her phone to make a call. On the third ring, she spits out. “It’s on. Kent’s on a warpath, and I have to file a University grievance now before she can clap back at me. I’m gonna be late. Go ahead and take your run…. Babe, I don’t have time to explain it now… No, I wasn’t alone. Hemsworth was walking me to out to the car. He’s a witness… Yeah, he’s a good friend.” She turns her head away from Hemsworth when he flinches at the dismissal. “Bake brownies too. I’ll bring ice cream.” She chuckles. “Yes, it’s that bad.” Thalia rolls her eyes, ending the call.

Hemsworth bites his lip. “Is he still jealous we’re friends?” He adjusts his glasses, trying to hide his hurt feelings.

“I’m sure he is, a little bit, but he knows the ‘surfer Norse God’ look you’ve got going on is not my thing.” She chuckles. “We’ve known each other a long time. Now, we’re always honest with each other. I’ve earned his trust.”

“I still think I could beat him at arm wrestling,” he chuckles, flexing his muscles.

“I’m sure you could.” She pats his arm. “Maybe at the barbeque next weekend. Bring that physicist you met. What’s her name? Jane?” Thalia pushes her hip against her door, opening the office. “Listen, go on home. I’m gonna be here awhile,” she says, flipping on the overhead light.

He shakes his head ‘no.’ “I can’t leave you- what if she came back? I was a witness, I can file a complaint also. If I understood it? What exactly did she mean?”

Thalia sits back in her office chair, turning on her computer. “My dad was Afro-Puerto Rican and my bio-mom was white. Mixed.” She tugs on her mane of unruly curls. “A zebra.” She shrugs. “I only heard it as a kid, growin’ up in the neighborhood. If that’s the worst thing she could think of to call me, I’m good with it. But I’m still gonna slam her for it. Petty bitch.”

He nods. “And I gather there’s more to the story from when you went to Uni here that you haven’t told me?”

Thalia exhales slowly, nodding and running her hand across her forehead. “Remember when we met last year, when I said I didn’t sleep with my science professor?”

“I kinda figured that part out.” Hemsworth smirks, resting on the arm of the couch.

“Surfer boy smarter than he appears, huh?” She chuckles, opening her email. “Yeah, Chris and I’ve dated off and on for the last three years. We met at the bar, where I worked.” She stares at the computer screen for a moment, sighing. “I wasn’t his student, although I was in his class years before, as an undergrad. And I eventually did some work for him as a grad assistant, helped with research and editing for his book. But that’s not the whole story. Kent didn’t know about him. That’s not who she was talking about…”

Click here for Chapter 7, Family Matters

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

Sensitivity Training

ch 5 sensitivity train jan 16 2019

Sensitivity Training

Chapter 5

By avenger-nerd-mom & devikafernando

AU Fan Fiction

In the sequel to Educating Thalia, the lovely Thalia Bareo is trying to grow up, making her own way in the world after losing both men she loved, Professors Chris Evans and Tom Hiddleston. The sassy full-figured Puerto Rican girl from Chicago holds down a job as she tries to deal with the real world. She continues her studies and freelances as a consultant for museums around the world. Being Thalia updates are posted on Wednesdays and Sundays.

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

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

If you are looking for other stories in the sequel, click here for the beginning of Being Thalia

Summary: The faculty is required to attend training on harassment and how to have proper relations with students and co-workers.

Previous Chapter, Strong Shoulders

Word Count 1999

2019, Spring Semester

Involuntarily, his lips tilt up into a smile as she enters the room. Her new best pal, Professor Chris Hemsworth, right on her heels. They’re laughing at something he’s showing her on his phone. She doesn’t even turn towards him, but he watches her cheeks turn a light shade of pink, highlighting her freckles. She knows he’s watching. Looking around the faculty office, everyone is catching up with others, talking about their Spring vacations. Professor Evans scowls at the new TA attempting to make googly eyes towards Thalia. The younger man nervously drops his folder, papers scattering everywhere. Chris covers his mouth, hiding his chuckle. Pulling his glasses from his pocket, he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, pretending to read the packet on appropriate interactions with students. Instead, his focus is his new roommate.

Hemsworth detaches himself, and moves to the table with coffee and snacks. Thalia sits, stretching her thick legs out and leans back in her chair, beginning to talk quietly to another faculty member. Her hair hangs down her back, nearly long enough to sit on when she straightens it, as she has been of late. Chris’s fingers itch, wishing to reach out and run them through her silky tresses. His stomach tightens, remembering how his fingers always tangled in her curls, wondering what it would feel like to truly brush his hands through her hair now. He exhales audibly and shifts in his seat, attracting the attention of the woman next to him. Offering her a crooked smile, he resumes his reading. After a moment, he returns his gaze to Thalia. Her clothes hug her round figure, the leather jacket pulled tight and buttoned over her plump belly. She’s laughing animatedly, reaching for the coffee Hemsworth offers her, but turns away the donut. The blond oaf shoves a big bite in his mouth and takes an empty chair in the row in front of her.

He really hates that guy. How is Norse Mythology even a real study? It’s exactly that. Myths. No proof.

Chris focuses his gaze on Thalia again. As usual, the present blends with the past whenever she’s around. He remembers every inch of her olive toned skin, her flesh pliable under his fingers. The way she would arch into him, goosebumps rising, her breath echoing between them… The way she would hold him tight as they rode out their orgasms together and then she would-

“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen,” Professor Joanna Kent announces. “Thank you all for taking the time to attend this training on appropriate workplace behaviors-”

“We’re timing you, Joanna. Think of it as a TED Talk. You’ve got eighteen minutes,” a voice calls out from the back and the staff laugh.

“Fine. That’s easy.” The woman leans over to switch on the large screen. Somehow in her movements, her overly sweet cologne wafts across, tickling his nose and he sneezes twice. Having trouble, she mumbles under her breath about hating technology. “Ok, fine. While this powers up,” she hands a clipboard to the faculty member closest to her, “everyone has to sign in to document for the university you’ve attended this sensitivity training.”

She continues to fiddle with the computer cords and a low buzz rises in the room as everyone begins chatting again. Chris’s phone vibrates, and he reaches in his coat pocket to pull it out. He laughs, reading the text.

Kent’s perfume has been known to cause allergy attacks. Don’t get too close. You’ll be sneezing all week.

Looking up, his eyes lock on Thalia’s. She smirks. Bowing his head, he quickly types out his reply.

Thanks for the warning. Not that I planned to get too close to her.

Moments later, her reply appears.

I’m told she’s a witty conversationalist at dinner, but horror of horrors! She orders fruit salad as dessert.

Feeling her watching him, he shoots back a pithy comment.

Proof she’s not human. Everyone knows to get cheesecake, or ice cream. She’s obviously an alien.

He smiles when he hears her bark of laughter across the noisy room, but looks up as the den falls silent moments later.

On the projector screen behind Professor Kent’s head, in bold hot pink type are the words ‘Don’t Have Sex with Students.’

“TED Talk over,” says the deep voice.

Papers rustle and sounds of the faculty shifting nervously in their chairs quickly turns to a quiet rumble.

“Yeah, we seriously have to have an inservice on this?”

“We’re not creepy pervs.”

“Ridiculous, they’re just kids.”

“We have to be told this?”

He bites his tongue from laughing at the text when his phone vibrates again.

Hi, creepy perv

STOP!” Kent’s voice echoes, nodding. “There are rumors and complaints being investigated, in several departments across campus. Everyone is receiving this training, to be aware of signs to look for and be aware of, and these comments could fall under harassment, so behave yourselves, and let’s follow the guide passed out by the Head Dean, shall we?”

She clears her voice and launches into her prepared presentation. He shakes his head, not being able to look at Thalia. Honestly, he can’t help but wonder if old allegations could arise? Months after she graduated and moved to Paris, it had been rumored there were inappropriate relations in the history department. He was surprised a finger was never pointed at her, and had walked on eggshells for weeks, relieved she was another continent away and safe from the gossip mill.

He vaguely listens as Kent outlines reasons, such as abuse of authority, ‘corrosive of the educational experience,’ and sexualizing the workplace, but then his damn twisted sense of humor gets the best of him.

It was educational, right?

He looks around the room, waiting for her response. Everyone is reading their packet, staring out the window, making no eye contact with anyone out of fear, or embarrassment. Except one person. Her eyes are sparkling, and he knows it’s on.

Very educational. Learned a lot. Lots of practice helped, private tutoring, hands on…

Chris closes his mind, shutting out the memory he hadn’t been the only one educating Thalia. His fingers fly across the screen, sending his next message.

One sign should have been underwear behind the couch in my office. The cleaning crew needs this training too.

Moments pass as Kent’s shrill voice drones on.

Don’t forget condoms in trash cans. And underwear wouldn’t have been behind the couch if you weren’t always taking them from me, and flinging them like a slingshot

He licks his lips, and types his reply.

Underwear under short plaid skirts is all wrong. If you’d watch porn, you’d know that

He nearly chokes at the return comment.

Who said I don’t watch porn?

Fuckin’ hell, the new, older Thalia is almost too much sass. The image of her laying on her bed- the bed in the guest room, in the basement of his house, where she’s been staying since her apartment fire in January- fingering herself to whatever she gets off on is almost too much for him. He shifts in his seat. He quickly opens a locked file on his phone, eyeing right and left to make sure no one is watching him, and he sends a picture back to her.

It’s one he keeps. She’s bent over a display in the library, late at night, working on a project, in a short plaid skirt. The lacy underwear fits snug against her ass, the elastic bunched up and tucked in between her folds on one side. They’d gone back to his office, and fucked like the building was on fire, and he’d teased her for wearing underwear.

That’s what you get off to when you’re all alone?

Chris fumbles with his phone, nearly dropping it when an image fills his screen. His hand wrapped around his cock, in a black and white image he vaguely remembers sending her years before.

This works for me.

His mouth drops open and he nervously inhales. Works. Present tense. As if she still admires the photo, after all this time and all that’s passed between them.

Doesn’t matter nowas if she can read his mind- you’ve got a girlfriend

Chris swallows, feeling his Adam’s apple bob in his throat. Flexing his fingers, it’s almost like they’re thinking about what to type next.

Not anymore. She left. While you were in Puerto Rico on Spring Break.

Waiting a beat, he wonders what she’ll say next.

Sorry. Probably my fault. Break up pig out? Pizza and ice cream tonight?

He scoffs, shaking his head. Closing his eyes, he says a silent prayer.

No pig out necessary. Wasn’t meant to be. Don’t you have plans with the Ken doll?

Holding his breath, he waits for the reply. He watches her eyes gaze at the back of Hemsworth’s head before dropping to her lap, tapping away on her phone.

No plans I can’t change. I told you, we’re just friends. He’s got a date later. Some chick in the science department.

Heart pounding, he can actually feel little beads of sweat forming on his upper lip, hidden by his beard. He’s out of practice, but he’s pretty sure she’s flirting, baiting him. Deciding to pull the line, he types quickly. Got a plaid skirt?

He hears her voice chirp across the room. He looks up, but her face is hidden behind her hair. Chris really wants nothing more than to meet her back at home and fall into bed with her, picking up where they left things off, as if no time had passed.

You aren’t paying attention. Now we’re getting lectured on not dating coworkers.

Looking up to the screen behind Professor Kent, she’s showing a training video about professional behaviors in the workplace among colleagues. The room titters with laughter when the character on screen is identified as “Thalia” and she’s receiving unwanted emails from a male coworker, lewdly complimenting her clothing.

“Gawd, I hate those emails. Stop sending them,” she jokes and the room laughs, lighter from her influence. “I can’t help I’m so good looking,” she laughs, dropping her head back down to look at the packet in her lap.

“I’m from Australia. I didn’t know any better,” Hemsworth adds, turning around and patting her thigh as the mood in the room shifts.

Chris focuses on the lecture, feeling slightly dejected. He doesn’t know what he thought, now feeling foolish for thinking Thalia would run back to him.

Not really dating if I’m living in your basement and we never go out? Probably another training on that, perv. After this meeting, I have my three o’clock class. Don’t have plaid skirts anymore, but I can make mean margaritas. Grilled steaks and fajitas on the back patio?

***

Thalia’s eyes flutter open, blinking slowly. She pulls her hair from under her shoulder, fanning it out over the pillow. The light filtering through the windows is sunny and bright, a pleasant change. Stretching deliciously, she can’t hide the smile on her face. Biting her lip, she feels her cheeks warming. With another stretch, she arches her back off the bed, the comforter falling from her hip. Her head still buzzes from the tequila the night before, and her body aches in ways long forgotten. Rolling to her side, she throws her arm over her bed mate, tracing her fingers over his tattooed shoulder. Sense memory responds, her fingers remembering every bump and blemish of the marking on his beautiful skin. Just like he’d shown her last night that he remembers every single thing that makes her breath stutter and her body shudder. When they came together–twice, she recalls with a decadent little shiver–it was as if he broke her, then put her back together. Not the way she was before everything came crashing down around her, but almost.

And that’s good enough for now.

Moving closer, pressing her body to his, Thalia whispers huskily in his ear, “You still owe me number Three.”

Click for Chapter 6, Warpath

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

Strong Shoulders

ch 4 strong shoulders jan 13 2019

Strong Shoulders

Chapter 4

By avenger-nerd-mom & devikafernando

AU Fan Fiction

In the sequel to Educating Thalia, the lovely Thalia Bareo is trying to grow up, making her own way in the world after losing both men she loved, Professors Chris Evans and Tom Hiddleston. The sassy full-figured Puerto Rican girl from Chicago holds down a job as she tries to deal with the real world. She continues her studies and freelances as a consultant for museums around the world. Being Thalia updates are posted on Wednesdays and Sundays.

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

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

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

If you are looking for other stories in the sequel, click here for the beginning of Being Thalia

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

Word Count 1263

Previous Chapter, Attraction

December 2018

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, honey, that’s really-”

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

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

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

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

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

“A Christmas miracle,” Stacey laughs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How long is she gonna be staying here?”

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

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

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

Next chapter, Sensitivity Training

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

Attraction

ch 3 attraction jan 9 2019

Attraction

Chapter 3

By avenger-nerd-mom & devikafernando

AU Fan Fiction

In the sequel to Educating Thalia, the lovely Thalia Bareo is trying to grow up, making her own way in the world after losing both men she loved, Professors Chris Evans and Tom Hiddleston. The sassy full-figured Puerto Rican girl from Chicago holds down a job as she tries to deal with the real world. She continues her studies and freelances as a consultant for museums around the world. Being Thalia updates are posted on Wednesdays and Sundays.

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

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

If you are looking for other stories in the sequel, click here for the beginning of Being Thalia

Summary: As her first semester of teaching comes to a close, Thalia finds some quiet and relaxation.

Word Count 1361

Previous Chapter

December 2018

“Since I have to go to the airport too, why don’t I just drive you?” Professor Chris Hemsworth yells down the hallway.

Dumping the popcorn in the red bowl, she sprinkles it liberally with salt, pretending not to hear him. Rides to the airport indicate something more. And she doesn’t want that. Not yet. She patters down the hallway in the fuzzy Christmas socks he gave her, careful not to slip on the polished hardwood floors. The colored lights on the tree casts prisms around the room, reflecting against the bay window. She throws the DVD box in his lap and plops down on the couch next to him, settling the popcorn bowl on her lap.

He groans, though the light plastic couldn’t have hurt. “I asked if you wanted to a ride to the airport?”

Fiddling with the remote, she lifts her head to share a smile with him. “That’s a nice idea, but my flight leaves hours before yours.” She drops her head, looking over the buttons for the one she needs to start the DVD. “And I’ve already arranged a ride with a few students who will be on my flight.”

He lifts his eyebrow, apparently not buying her story, but he doesn’t say anything. The surround sound fills the room, growing louder as if testing the speakers, and the home screen lights up the TV.

“Point Break?” he chuckles, reaching into the bowl, his fingertips brushing against hers.

“Sure. Why not, you’re always bragging about surfing at Byron Bay. Thought this would make you feel at home,” she laughs, reaching forward for the box of Milk Duds.

Propping his feet up on the ottoman, Chris jokes,“If we’re gonna watch Swayze, what about Dirty Dancing, Ghost, or hell even, Road House?”

“Dirty Dancing?”

He wiggles on the couch. “I can move my hips. I’m a very good dancer.” He stretches his arm over the back of the couch, twirling his fingers in her curly hair. “Maybe we could go dancing sometime?”

“We’ll see,” she says, relaxing into his touch, practically purring as he plays with her hair. “That feels good,” she exhales quietly. “Do that some more.”

“¿Más?” he drawls. “¿Te gusta? That’s it. That’s all I know. Cerveza.”

Laughing so much, she practically snorts. “Time for Rosetta Stone, dude.” They settle in to watch the movie, making jokes about the president masks and talking about how they’d spend stolen money.

Sitting side by side on the couch, someone always has an arm squished in the middle. Relaxing against the cushion, she sighs and rests her hand gently on his thick thigh, not knowing where else to put it, after losing circulation from sitting on her hand. Shit, what a thigh! She bites back the groan lodged at the back of her throat, and tries to focus on the pretty men on the screen in front of her. It doesn’t help. Jesus, she needs to get laid.

Obviously not interested in the movie, Chris does everything he can to distract her.  As the action on the screen unfolds, his grasp on her neck becomes tighter as he massages the stressed tissues. “So tense, Thalia. Don’t you ever relax?” She rolls her head to the right, laying it against his muscular forearm, elongating her neck as he continues kneading her soft skin. “Orchids. How do you always smell of orchids?” He whispers, his warm breath blowing across the top of her head.

His accent lulls her into a calming state. “You’re gonna put me to sleep if you keep that up.” The popcorn bowl slides off her lap, falling sideways onto the couch. “You know I’ve been working overtime on prepping for the Spring semester, and the display layout for that museum opening in Atlanta.”

Chris twists on the couch, reaching across her for the popcorn bowl. In his grasp, he lifts it up and places it on the table behind the couch. His hand slides back down over her shoulder, toying with a dark, curly tendril caught in the crook of her arm, pulling it free. “You work too hard, worry too much.”

She sighs, her breasts lifting in her fitted V-neck sweater. His eyes focus on the rise and fall of her chest. “Hey, blondie, my eyes are up here,” she chuckles, grabbing his hand and holding it in above her shoulder.

His blue eyes lift and lock on hers and for a moment she gets lost in them. They are a different blue staring back at her, clear like the ocean. She wonders if they ever turn gray and stormy, or sometimes even a shade of green. She sucks in a deep breath and their bodies become completely still. The air fills with tension and electricity between them crackles over the sounds from the old movie. She’s been so careful until now, guarding her heart and protecting herself. Everything about Hemsworth, she could never think of him as Chris, for obvious reasons, everything was always comfortable and natural. Their relationship was tentative, teasing about who would bring the morning coffee, since they both arrive at the same time each day, him walking her to the car in the evenings, or their occasional dinner date. But it had always been friendly, a mutual attraction they both had unknowingly agreed to leave untouched.

Until his lips land on hers. Her hands push against his chest and she’s caught by surprise. He starts to pull away, to give her time to react, but she squeezes his thigh, signaling for him to continue.

“Are you sure?” he whispers in tight breaths.

“Mmhm,” she hums, lifting her other hand free to slide up his back, to caress the expanse and tightness of his form under his snug t-shirt.

His lips return to hers with more force, pushing her over on the couch and half sliding her underneath him while their lips and legs tangle together. One of his hands is on her right hip, moving from her ass to her lower thigh, squeezing her firmly through the rough denim, holding her close and keeping her from falling over the edge of the couch cushion. It’s barely wide enough for him, let alone her too. His other hand is next to her head, preventing him from putting all of his weight against her.

Both arms now free, she grapples to gain purchase on the hem of his shirt. Thalia wants to feel his tanned, warm skin under her fingers. The dark haired beauty almost giggles at the idea, unable to remember the last time she was with a man that wasn’t so fair he’d burn within minutes of being in the sun. Almost like dating someone frozen in ice, or a vampire… Shaking the thought away, she continues to pull at his shirt. She quickly yanks it over his head, surprised to find more tats on his arms and ribcage.

He grinds down against her, a sizeable weight pushing against her covered mound. “Slow down, darl, we’ve got all night.”

Thalia shifts the leg he’s holding up, wrapping it over his torso, making him moan when she digs her heel in his back just a little harder, adjusting their angle, pulling him closer to her. There’s a frenzy of movement on the soft leather couch, as the two rut against one another. His mouth is at her neck, then burrowing between her rounded globes, pushing out from the top of her bright pink sweater.

It’s fast and breathless, kissing him, touching him. Her hands trace the sinewy lines of muscles covering his back and shoulders, gripping him tight and using her feet to push him against her. It’s been so long, she wonders if she could come from just a heavy make out session on his couch. So damn long…

They’re both breathing heavy, a slight sweat along her hairline causing her hair to curl and frizz. The sweater is too confining, and the little kitten licks he gives along the lace trim of her bra are driving her crazy.

She pushes against him, gasping for air. “How ‘bout you show me the rest of the house, starting with the bedroom?”

Click to Chapter 4, Strong Shoulders

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

Collection

ch 2 jan 6 2019

Collection

Chapter 2

Being Thalia

Collaboration by @avenger-nerd-mom &  @devikafernando

AU FICTION

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: Settling into a new, permanent role at the University, Thalia makes new friends and discovers her office comes with a nice view.

Word count: 2382

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

If you are looking for other stories in the sequel, click here for the beginning of Being Thalia

Images found on Pinterest

Previous Chapter

“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

2018, Fall Semester

With the announcement after Fall mid-terms that Lin-Hu would not be returning from her maternity leave, the University offered Thalia a teaching position for the Spring semester, with classes in languages and history. She was given the former teacher’s office, larger than the closet sized cubicle she had been sharing with two grad students. Elated to have a permanent space in the history department to call home, she was having fun buying furniture and decorating, and getting ready to go home for the holidays.

“Stacey, if I’m gonna get outta here at a decent hour tonight, I need to get off the phone, and get more of these boxes unpacked,” she says, pushing up from where she had been sitting on the floor, sorting through a stack of books.

“Ok, mija, just let us know when you finalize your flight plans,” the quiet, motherly voice says over the phone. “You’re father is so excited, he’s already planning to pick you up at the airport and take you straight to Portillo’s.”

She laughs. “Papá does realize I won’t be home for, like, another six weeks, right? I can’t make it home for Thanksgiving and Christmas.”

“I know, I keep telling him,” her voice drops. “Will you be joining Chris and his daughter for Thanksgiving?”

Thalia pinches her lips to hold in the sigh threatening to burst out. “Probably not. I think I’ll join some of the foreign exchange students and help them serve dinner at the shelter.”

Stacey is silent for a moment. “Thalia, are you okay, sweetheart?”

Tears sting at her eyes and she blinks them away just as quickly. “I will be. I’m getting there.” Thalia chuckles looking at the messy room and boxes still waiting to be unpacked. “I really gotta go. If I’m not home by dark, my landlord will start to wonder why I even bother paying rent if I’m never home.”

“You are never home! Isn’t that why you keep all your favorite things in your work space?”

“You know me too well, Mamá,” she replies.

She and her step-mother exchange goodbyes. Turning the radio up, she steps back and visualizes the plan for the empty shelves. A student stops by with questions about an essay assignment, and before she knows it, it’s almost time to call it a day. “One more shelf,” she says to nobody but herself.

Bent over an open box, Thalia reaches in, pulling out a few more things to add to the balance of travel knickknacks and books on the wooden shelving. She chuckles at the low whistle she hears, and the whispered, “Nice ass.” She licks her lip but pays no mind to the man across the hall. Still got it, she thinks to herself.

Humming along to the Latin music she plays, she tries not to dance to the beat, knowing he’s still watching her. He probably doesn’t even know he said it out loud, she muses, having seen him already slam his hand in the desk drawer accidentally and forever jamming up the copy machine. The pretty boy from Aussie is a bit flaky, a bit too blond for her tastes.

hems nice ass

Reaching up on the shelf, she wobbles on her heels and huffs in frustration.

“I can help with that?” he asks, much closer now.

Sure enough, he’s standing in her doorway, his arm stretched up, resting on the moulding above the door frame. She does her best not to respond on animal instinct, her mouth involuntarily watering at the sight of him. Taking in the sculpted abs under the tight sweater and the tat on his inner arm, she feels her cheeks flame, hoping her blush isn’t visible. It would have been almost comical if his shirt had lifted to show what she was sure to be a very happy treasure trail. She shakes her head, and laughs him off.

“Hemsworth, right? No thanks. I know how professors like you work.” She snags her toe around the leg of a small footstool and pulls it closer. “Stretching up to reach things on high bookshelves, or door jams,” she rolls her eyes, puckering her lips in accusation when he drops his arm, “to ‘innocently’ catch a girl’s eye? Not interested.”

Sirens buzz in her head, telling her to stay away and keep focused. Sneering at him when he plops down in her new leather chair, she steps up on the higher plateau, arranging the books as she envisioned. “Hand me those photos,” she says to him. “If I can’t get rid of you, you might as well be useful.”

“I can be useful in a lot of ways,” he pronounces slowly, winking at her. Shuffling through the frames on her desk, he comments. “Nice collection. Paris. London. New York. Disney? Quite well traveled…” He hands up the photos, smiling. “So are the rumors true?”

Thalia tilts her head, looking down on him. Her tongue runs over her teeth, and she makes a clucking sound. “Is that why you keep sniffing around?”

They’ve chatted before, occasionally sharing a lunch in the staff workroom, but she’s kept herself distant and guarded. No actions that could be viewed as anything more than professional courtesies.

“No, actually.” He leans forward, looking at the stack of papers on her desk, reaching for another photo frame. “Your parents?” She nods, giving no indication she wants to talk. “Nice family… You’re always such a nice woman,” he shrugs. “You have an easy laughter, you always smell like flowers, and the lunches you heat up every day always make my mouth water.” He stretches out in her chair, digging his heel into the rug and spinning slowly from left to right. “We’re neighbors now. I simply wanna get to know you.” He crosses his arms over his tight belly and twiddles his thumbs, the silver rings on his fingers drawing her eyes to the slight movement. “I don’t care whether or not you fucked your science professor as an undergrad.”

“Hmm,” she hums,, lingering over his words and turning back to arrange the photos. She’d heard all the stories, none of them actually hinting at the truth. “I can assure you, I did not have sex with my science professor.”

He quietly assesses her. “I’d like to spend time with you, figure out what that amazing scent is that you always carry. Can I take you to dinner?”

prof hems tat

Holy hell. He is hitting on me. “What? Why me?”

“I miss home.” He reaches for a pencil, tapping it against the edge of the desk. She looks down at him, skepticism written all over her face. “I’m tired of all the skinny, plastic girls, the ones that only want to talk makeup and reality TV stars. I like a woman with a little more…” His eyes stroke over her figure, undressing her in a way she hasn’t felt in ages. A small butterfly flaps its wings deep in her belly. “Charm and intelligence.”

“What a flattering way to word that,” she chuckles, running her hand over her hip and slapping her thigh.

His laughter explodes, warm and infectious. “Someone to throw over my shoulder,” He says, rising from the chair to aid her as she steps down.

“Nice shoulders,” she compliments, giving his strapping deltoid a tight squeeze. “Too blond for me, pal.” She laughs and winks. Spinning on the step stool to properly stand down, her feet tangle and she topples from the height. With quick reflexes, the handsome professor catches her in a basket hold and her arm grips around his shoulder. She gasps, the wind sucked out of her. “Nice shoulders,” she repeats as he gently sets her to the ground, holding her as close as he can without being too forward. His eyes dart down quickly for a peek at what her tight t-shirt reveals before taking a step back, gallantly blushing.

“Too blond, huh?” He laughs, running his hands through his hair. “Sure I can’t change your mind?”

His Aussie accent jumbles her brain, slightly drawled, very relaxed. Accents are my kink. She tries to hide her blush at the thought, shaking her head. “Chris, that’s really sweet, but I’m still getting over a relationship. I’m really not…not myself just yet. It wouldn’t be fair to anyone,” she explains, letting him down easy and ushering him to the hall. Her heart thumps against her chest as a familiar plaid shirt rounds the corner at the end of the hallway, disappearing from view.

Hemsworth squeezes her forearm. “Sorry to hear that, darl. But I am somewhat lonely for company.” He tilts his head and his bright white smile beams down at her- “Jesus, you’re tall!” she mutters and he chuckles softly. “I promise I won’t bite, so the offer for dinner still stands, any time.”

“Thanks, I appreciate that,” she mumbles stepping back into her office. Placing her hand on the door, she laughs. “I know you’re still gonna sit at your desk and watch my ass, so I’m just gonna close the door.”

She waves the tips of her fingers and places a divide between them. Sinking back against the door, she hits her head against the solid wood. “How many professors you need in that collection, Chica?” she scoffs before pushing off the surface. Grabbing her purse from the bottom drawer, she reaches across the desk to turn off the lamp. Lifting a stuffed file, she tucks it under her arm, exiting the room quickly and locking the door behind her.

Thalia jogs down the hall, slowing before reaching the doorway to the staff workroom. Entering the shared space, she acts surprised to see Professor Evans leaning against the counter, eating a bowl of cereal. “Hey,” she says, nonchalantly, opening the fridge for a chilled bottle of water and her lunch bag. With her other hand, she waves the folder to him. “I finished the research. Wanna go get a table downstairs, spread it out and work on it?”

He chuckles at her word choice and she slams the folder against his chest. “Childish fucker,” she laughs, shaking her head.

“I didn’t say anything,” Chris laughs, turning on the water to wash out his bowl. “Can’t do it tonight, I’ve got to get Avery after dance.” He shakes off the excess water and lays the bowl in the drainboard to dry. “So… You and the Ken doll?”

She didn’t miss the jealous tone in his teasing words and her Latina blood starts to simmer. “Shit, I knew it. Are you fuckin’ spying on me? We said we were gonna live our lives separately. You have no right to-”

“Another professor though? Norse mythology? Really? Even the British arse would laugh at that. Maybe I should give him a call, let him lecture you about the pitfalls of dating professors. You always seemed to listen to him more than-”

Her eyes blaze as she cuts him off. “He wouldn’t fuckin’ care. His opinion has no basis on anything I do anymore and I couldn’t-” Her strength wilts in an instant and her eyes well with tears. “Fuck off, Evans,” she sputters, storming from the room.

She doesn’t turn when he calls after her and she tries to hold back her crying. He catches up quickly and reaches for the strap on her bag, stopping her. “I’m sorry, Thal, I didn’t know.” She angrily pushes away the tears, her arm caught between them as he wraps her in a hug. “He still didn’t call? Damn, I figured you’d patched things up by now.”

Thalia swallows hard, trying not to choke on her words. “Doesn’t fuckin’ matter. I just… I’m tired. I need a new life, to forget everything-”

“-But that guy? He’s… I don’t know? He doesn’t seem like your type at all, other than being a professor.”

She pushes away from his grasp. “Thanks for trying to cheer me up, but eat shit, Evans. You don’t have any say in my life now either.”

Rushing down the stairs, she gasps for breaths, trying to quell her battered heart. Working on a friendship with an ex-lover is just too damn tough, he always thinks he can have a say in what I do. I’ll damn well do what I want, she thinks, sighing heavily. Leaving the back stairwell, she pushes out onto the sidewalk in the late fall sunshine. I’m done letting them control my life, as if they still own me. I’m my own person, dammit!

Walking to her car, she tucks her water bottle under her arm as she roots through her purse for her keys.

“Side pocket,” a voice calls out.

She spins around, to see Hemsworth straddling a motorcycle, pointing to her. She reaches for her coat pocket, and sure enough, the lanyard is hanging out, her keys tucked safely inside. “Nice ride,” she says, holding up her keys as a silent ‘thanks.’

“Wanna take a spin?” He tilts his head. “You look like you need to escape. You all right?”

Pursing her lips, she shakes her head no. Swallowing hard, she pushes back her fears. “Sounds good actually. You still up for dinner? Drowning myself in pasta sounds good right about now.”

“Put your bag in the car, and tie up that wild mane of yours.”

She does as she’s told and jogs back quickly to his set up. Hemsworth has opened a storage compartment and pulled out a second helmet. Handing it to her, he asks, “Ridden before?”

“Been a while, but I think I can remember.” She takes the helmet and pushes back fly away hairs from her face.

“Hold tight and lean when I lean; squeeze with your knees.”

“Got it,” she says, putting on the helmet and watching him lift his thick thigh over the seat of the bike. Pulling the protective gear over her head, she climbs behind him, sliding forward on the worn leather seat and wrapping her arms around his fit waist. She can feel his tight abs under his soft sweater and a decidedly masculine scent fills her nose.

As they pull out of the parking lot, the side door opens again and Professor Evans exits the building. She lets go and gives a little wave as they literally ride off into the sunset.

Click here for Chapter 3, Attraction

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

Christmas in Munich

munich dec 19 2018

Christmas in Munich

Being Thalia

Collaboration by devikafernando & avenger-nerd-mom

It’s TRUE! @devikafernando and @avenger-nerd-mom are working on a SEQUEL for Educating Thalia, involving Professor Hiddleston and Professor Evans! 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 in Paris, continuing her studies and freelancing as a consultant for museums around the world.

To kick off the premiere of the sequel, Being Thalia, we’ll take a look at Christmas vacations Thalia’s shared with her men in the last two years since her graduation.

A Christmas one-shot, featuring Thalia and Tom in Munich, is posted below and the story with Chris in NYC will post December 23. The series premiere is slated for January 2, 2019!

Warning: This work contains adult content. If you proceed you have agreed that you are willing to see such content.

Thalia and Tom decide Christmas apart seems lonely and share their love of exploring new places and things, half a world away from where they first met.

Word Count: 4583

The curvy Latina stomps her feet against the cold and readjusts her scarf. Thalia Bareo glances out across the pedestrian precinct of Munich, covered in a thin layer of snow that makes the rather harsh angles and grandeur of the South-German architecture look softer, straight out of a fairy tale.

Any moment now, he’d be there. Tom.

Watching her breath dance in front of her, Thalia peers down the steps and tries to curb her anticipation. She came to Germany for an archaeological conference three days ago and spontaneously decided to stay a bit longer and do some sight-seeing as she’d never been here before. When she mentioned it to Tom during their last phone call, he immediately latched on to the opportunity.

“Darling, why don’t I pop over there and we’ll spend Christmas together, surrounded by gingerbread and snow and people speaking in words with 30 letters?”

She laughed it off at first, thinking he was joking. The idea of being alone at Christmas, in a foreign place, had her feeling down, but she didn’t want to pull him from his family obligations, so she tried to brush it off, saying she’d explore the market and the museums alone. Thalia found out soon enough that he was serious. He cajoled and pleaded, and finally let his voice go all low and deep.

“Just imagine all the ways in which I could keep you warm. All the naughty things I could do to you until you hear the bells chime and Santa knows that you’ve been a very, very good girl for your man.”

The ‘good girl’ echoing through the phone had sent shivers down her spine, so of course she’d said yes, and now here she is, waiting for Tom to arrive. His flight must have landed about an hour ago, and he would take first an S-Bahn and then an U-Bahn to reach the Marienplatz square in the heart of Munich with its old buildings and shopping opportunities.

Shivering from a gust of wind, Thalia studies the church tower across the square, then glances back at the stairs leading up from the subway station. A familiar head emerges, lowered so she can only glimpse half of the man’s face. He’s dressed in well-worn black pants and a tight-fitting, soft-looking sweater in burgundy red, gloved hands fumbling to button up a black pea coat. The shoulder strap of a black knapsack is visible as his only baggage.

“Tom.”

At her words, the newcomer lifts his head and sees her standing there, his handsome face breaking into a glorious smile so she thinks for one moment she can hear angels sing. Butterflies dance in her belly as she steps closer. Tom’s long legs take the remaining steps two at a time and then he’s in front of her and whispers her name.

She feels herself enveloped in a bear hug, hears Tom inhale deeply before he nuzzles her hair. Though she’s opted for her favorite pink scarf and woolen gloves in a matching color, she’s not wearing a hat, and so he buries his face in her curls. His big hands stroke over her back. One slides higher and beneath the scarf to grasp her neck, and the somehow gentle yet possessive pressure of his long fingers around her throat makes her shiver.

Tom uses the grip to tilt her head back, and then his lips are on hers. Claiming, not just kissing. He tastes minty, and she wonders dimly if he’s been using gum before or during the short flight from Heathrow to Munich. Their tongues tangle, and Thalia sighs into his mouth as she lets him have his way.

When he finally breaks the kiss, she buries her face against his soft coat, clinging to him for a moment longer. Noise filters in slowly, and she realizes that more people must have exited the subway because now there’s a crowd passing them by, and the guttural sounds of German interrupt the wintry calm.

“I missed you,” she wants to say, but Tom beats her to it, his lips brushing over the shell of her ear as he gives her one last squeeze.

He takes her hand, and Thalia lowers her gaze to see he’s wearing those wild-leather gloves that some men prefer over wool. They’re as black as his pants, and something about his elegant fingers in leather as he rakes his free hand through his hair and then down the buttons of his coat makes her tingle deep inside. God, that’s surprisingly hot. It gives her the unexpected urge to see him in driving gloves and a super-fast sports car, racing off with her into the night as she has to press her thighs together while she practically melts into the luxurious seats.

Whoa, down girl. They’re barely together for a minute and she’s hot for him. Dammit, he still does this to her. Always will?

His gloved thumb is absently stroking a sliver of exposed wrist and Thalia shivers. Tom mistakes it for cold, apparently, because he sets them walking.

“Now, let’s get going. I’ve been dying to really see Munich.”

Thalia walks along, knowing she’s smiling as brightly and enthusiastically as he is. She recalls that he mentioned on the phone that he’s once been to Bavaria’s capital before.

“When did you last visit Munich?” she inquires as they join the crowd.

There are people of all ages around them, half of them with their phones glued to their ears or in their hands, the other carrying a variety of shopping bags or jostling kids. It’s the day before Christmas, and apparently some Germans still haven’t gotten all their gift shopping done. Through the biting cold with a hint of snow, enticing seasonal smells reach her nostrils: baking spices, scented candles, resin and wood.

Tom lets their joined hands swing, and it’s such an innocently happy and ‘couple’ thing to do that it makes her heart ache. Resolutely, Thalia tells herself to focus on the here and now and listen to his answer.

“Hm, it feels like ages ago. I was in my mid-twenties when I visited the Oktoberfest with my parents. God, what an experience that was.”

He chuckles to himself, a far-away look in his eyes, and Thalia indulges in a bit of fantasy. What did he look like those days? More boyish, maybe with less pronounced cheekbones and even shorter or else slightly longer hair? She pictures him dressed in the traditional leather pants outfit, grinning in delight at the beer and sausages and huge pretzels, a mischievous gleam in his eyes and a flirting lilt to his accented voice when he made all the waitresses in the festival tents swoon. Or had he been as nerdy as in his later professor days, quietly observing, gathering information, helping his mom out in a gentlemanly way? Probably a mix of both, irresistible to all girls near and far…

Thalia makes herself snap back to the present when Tom squeezes her hand and nods to the right.

“This way, if my poor, runny nose doesn’t deceive me. I think I smell food!”

With a snicker, she follows his direction and sniffs the frosty air. Oh yes, that must be the smells from the famous Munich Christmas Market, called “Christkindlmarkt” in German.

They quicken their steps, Tom adjusting the strap of his bag while they feast their eyes on all the decoration. Strings of lights hang everywhere, but it’s only afternoon and they aren’t lighted yet. There are fir branches, wreaths, decor shaped like shooting stars, angels or Christmas stockings as far as the eye can see, mixed with snow-capped signboards and (not yet) illuminated letters.

“Wow.” Thalia looks her fill at everything, counting the many different stalls and tents, half-obscured by the milling crowd. Intermingled with the strolling, conversing locals are tourists, clearly identifiable by their exotic features and their wide eyes as well as gaping mouths.

She lets Tom pull her along as they make their way from stand to stand, lingering the longest over all the food. Gloves removed so they can taste what’s on offer, the two of them get swept away by the magic of the Christmas market. Tom—of course—tries to get people to talk and tell him more, though not all of them can speak enough English to make themselves understood. Thalia just drinks in the sights, smells and sounds, her gaze often riveted on the enthusiastic man by her side. They discover gingerbread in all imaginable and unimaginable shapes and flavors. Roasted and honey-glazed almonds. Steaming chestnuts. Fragrant fruit candy. Cookies cut into lovely shapes and sold in enormous quantities, called “Plätzchen”.

Tom falls in love with something called “Vanillekipferl,” crescent-shaped soft cookies with vanilla flavor, dusted liberally with icing sugar. He buys four packs of them and stuffs them in his bag before feeding one to Thalia.

“I’m going to need a plane of my own once we’re done here,” he jokes with a wink. “When I fly back home, I’ll weigh a ton in Christmas food that I’ve gobbled up and another ton in other food that I’ve bought to take home.”

Thalia pokes his flat belly, feeling the ridges of his abs even through coat and sweater. “Very likely,” she teases. “Your belly could jiggle like a bowl full of jelly, like Santa’s!”

He gives her a mock glare and devours another of the Vanillekipferl. Catching her by surprise, he rubs his icing-sugar-dusted index finger over her lips, then leans in and licks the white powder off in thorough little kitten licks that shouldn’t be so arousing. A last sweep with his tongue, then a kiss laced with sweetness.

“Mmm, they’re even tastier like this.”

She feels herself blush and strain towards him, longing for more intimacy while at the same time a bit shocked at his PDA. She still can’t believe they can be publicly open with their feelings for each other, though she technically graduated seven months before. And she revels in the feeling, leaning in to tease him. “Maybe I can sit on your lap later?”

Tom draws back, with his usual “eheheh” laugh and a gleeful gleam still in his eyes. “Oh, Warrior Princess, you just wait to see what I have in store for you. Lots of fun things for good little girls. But first, on to more culinary discoveries!”

With an indulgent shake of her head, she follows him, hiding her growing need for him, as he pounces on an assortment of cakes including something labeled “Stollen” and coated in yet more icing sugar. They wind their way through the stalls, washing down all the sampled Christmas delicacies with a mug of mulled wine that brings color to their faces and warmth to their frozen limbs. There’s a vendor focusing on baked apples with a dozen toppings, another one on handmade key tags.

To take a break from all the food, they check out the other offerings. There are all sorts of handicrafts on display, alongside artwork and souvenirs like stuffed toys, dolls in Bavarian get-ups, and winter clothes with sometimes funny motives. Candles in all sizes, shapes, colors and scents are available, as are postcards, booklets and brochures, knick knack for low prices like snow globes, and books in German. Figurines for Christmas cribs, ornaments for the Christmas tree, as well as spirits like herbal liquor in Christmassy bottles and gift boxes give way to yet more food.

“Oh, look at these!” Tom loops an arm around Thalia’s plump waist to draw her over to a stand dedicated solely to “Lebkuchenherzen”. They’re gingerbread hearts in various designs, ranging from barely coin-sized miniatures to enormous creations with elaborate writing that even a group of ten would have difficulty eating.

“We can…make them personal,” a buxom lady minding the stalls tells them in halting English after she’s listened to Tom whoop and coo over all the hearts.

“A personalized gingerbread heart?” Tom glances at Thalia. “Shall we get one for us?” Leaning closer and lowering his voice, he adds, “We could eat it as a nightly snack. You’re going to need all the energy you can get because I plan to have my way with you as many times as you’ll let me.”

Thalia swallows, her throat suddenly dry and her face flushed from more than the alcohol.

“Okay,” she croaks out.

And so they spend a few laughing minutes deciding on what symbols and colors they want as icing on the brown base of the plate-sized gingerbread heart. Tom insists on pink orchids, which pleases the woman. Thalia requests a book, which seems to be a bit more difficult. They end up also adding glasses in white and a little heart symbol in red.

“And you vill vant text also?” the vendor asks with a smile that clearly says she approves of these two young people in love, oblivious to how complicated things are between Thalia and Tom.

That, of course, leads to several more minutes of the two of them discussing a message. All of the Shakespeare quotes Tom would love are too long, and anything Thalia can think of would be too common. They at last settle for T & T, their initials—and begin to blush and splutter and choke when the woman asks whether they want two yellow wedding rings, as a good luck charm for their future.

“Just the letters, danke,” Tom insists and then pays for the personalized sweet treat that is wrapped lovingly.

The woman’s comment seems to have put both of them in an odd mood. They finish their stroll through the market in silence, Thalia’s hands stuffed in her pockets while Tom puts his gloves back on and carries their shopping as well as the gingerbread heart.

Evening approaches so fast that it’s as if someone has thrown a switch. The lights blink on all around them, and the magic catches them in its wake, dispersing the tension. They admire the giant, lavishly decorated Christmas tree in front of the old town hall, each of them snapping a quick pic before Tom sneaks in a selfie of them together with all the splendor in the background.

“Ready to wreck a hotel bed?” he asks close to her ear, and just like that, her need for him returns.

“Ready.”

* * *

Thalia awakes to a softly stroking hand at her belly and something hot and hard wedging itself between her ass cheeks. The hand moves higher to knead her breast, and she moans herself completely awake to memories of their love-making last night when they’d returned from the Marienplatz square to their cozy if overpriced hotel. It wasn’t just sex, after the first round of frantic, bitey, I’ll-rip-your-clothes-off, desperate-need-for-you tumble in the sheets that left them dizzy, covered in sweat and light bruises.

Their second round after nibbles on the delicious goodies from the Christmas market and a glass of wine was the way she remembers it between them, thorough and at times painfully tender – and hot as hell when Tom took her from behind, letting part of his weight settle on her in an oddly possessive way.

Smiling to herself and allowing herself a shiver when Tom’s busy fingers tug at her rapidly hardening nipples, Thalia murmurs a ‘good morning’. A bit of weak winter sunshine filters into the hotel room, which is still toasty warm and carries an undertone of Christmas sweets scent in the air.

“Merry Christmas morning, darling,” Tom purrs back, nuzzling the nape of her neck.

He’s spooning her from behind, as he did when they fell asleep in each other’s arms last night. A slight thrust of his hips rubs their naked bodies together, and she bites down on her lower lip to keep the needy moan in.

“How about we let traditions go to hell and open our gifts now?” Tom interrupts her decadent thoughts. “I have a mighty need to see you enjoying yours.”

Blindly, she reaches behind them to grab for his cock and give it a stroke.

“I see my gift is already unwrapped,” she jokes, feeling smug at the stuttered moan from the man pressing her so tightly against him. It’s followed by a somewhat choked chuckle as he wraps the fingers of his free hand around her wrist and pries her hand away.

“Not this particular gift, although I do think you should show it the same thorough attention you bestowed on that candy cane yesterday.”

She blushes, the thought of licking and sucking him arousing her further. But apparently, Tom has other plans. The bed dips and the sheets rustle as he shifts his weight and extracts herself from the warm depths. Thalia rolls onto her back and watches bemusedly as he strides buck naked to his bag on the baggage rack. Her throat goes dry as she stares at his muscles bunch and flex when he bends down and retrieves two small parcels covered in shiny silver wrapping paper. He brings them to bed, hopping on with the same boyish enthusiasm that gleams in his eyes.

“Frohe Weihnachten,” he wishes her haltingly, and she’s been in Munich long enough to understand that it means ‘Merry Christmas’ in German.

“Danke,” she thanks him with one of the few words she’s picked up during the conference, wondering what on earth he might’ve got her. Two gifts? Really?

Caught up in the same excitement, she hitches the sheet higher for a bit of modesty and opens the slightly heavier parcel first. Inside the box is a leather-bound notebook with an expensive-looking black pen tucked into it. When she opens the pages, she discovers that dried flowers have been worked into the parchment-like paper.

“Oh, it’s so pretty.” She lovingly runs her fingertips over the creamy texture, then realizes that even a faint floral perfume rises from the pages. “In fact, it’s too pretty to write in,” she adds.

Tom smiles, his own fingers tracing the paper. “Save it for some special words then.”

Does he want her to use it as a diary? Maybe to write down her thoughts and feelings regarding him?

Before she can give it more thought, he nudges the second gift closer to her. “I bet you’ll find this one just as pretty,” he says, and something in his tone catches her attention. There’s a different gleam in his eyes now, and she eyes the parcel a bit wearily. It looks to be from a different shop, despite the almost matching silver wrapping paper. There’s a big, red ribbon tied around it, a tiny silver Cupid angel pasted into the middle of the knot.

She fidgets with it, suddenly nervous and acutely aware of Tom’s bare body hovering close, his breath fanning her hair.

Inside the parcel lies Christmas-red fabric, looking buttery soft to the touch. She takes it out on a gasp, her eyes widening.

“Is that…?” Blinking, she studies the beautifully naughty lingerie.

There are three pieces, one looking like an almost sheer teddy in black with a bustier of red lace and a few wires that give it the style of a corset without actually squishing a woman’s torso to death. The fabric is indeed soft and almost weightless apart from the intricately patterned lacy bra cups. The thong matches the bra. Hardly more than a wisp of red lace, but cut wide enough to be comfortable, it looks as if a decisive tug of a man’s hand will rip it right in two. Black net stockings with a garter belt make the sexy outfit complete.

“That’s…that’s…” Thalia falters, knowing her face is almost as red as the garments.

“Pretty?” Tom’s voice has taken on that low, deep timbre it always slips into during sexytimes but when she finally dares to meet his gaze, there’s trepidation in his eyes. Does he hope she likes his gift, that she doesn’t think he’s overstepped his boundaries?

She swallows. “Yes. More than that. I don’t have words.”

The hesitation in his eyes clears and he smirks widely at her. “You won’t need words. Wear them for me, my Christmas vixen?”

It’s a plea and a command all rolled into one, and Thalia finds herself nodding. She should probably feel self-conscious in the face of such lingerie, but she doesn’t. Not when Tom clearly bought this with her curves in mind and when she knows with hundred percent certainty that he doesn’t want her body to be in any other shape. And so, still blushing but buoyed by his ravenous gaze, she grabs the garments and slides off the bed. Walking into the en suite bathroom, she allows herself a quick morning wash, then dries off and slides the lingerie on. The thong comes first. It’s almost too snug but doesn’t cut into her ample waist. Bless Tom for guessing her size correctly, though it does make her wonder how often he’s bought underwear for women before.

Not permitting herself the thought, Thalia rolls up the stockings and then wiggles into the teddy. It takes some contortions and sucking in her breath but it’s the right size as well. The bustier lifts up her barely covered breasts like an offering. She eyes herself in the mirror, blushing again. With her sleep-tousled hair a mane of wild curls, her face flushed and the lingerie on shameless display, she feels like a temptress. No, like a goddess who’s going to make all the men kneel. Powerful yet utterly feminine. With a soft sigh of anticipation, she affixes the garters and smooths her palms over the fabric that accentuates her curves rather than hiding them.

When she steps back into the room, Tom is sitting on the edge of the bed, his fingers fidgeting. His mouth gapes open as he catches his first glimpse of her, and she hears him swear softly.

“Fucking hell, Thalia, you’re utterly gorgeous. You look like…an erotic dream. A fantasy come alive.”

His voice is hoarse and his pupils have dilated. Feeling a glow spread inside her, Thalia walks over, taking care to put a sway to her hips.

“Thank you for the gift, Tom. It’s such an ego boost.”

He holds her gaze and nods once, before she can feel his demeanor change. Snapping his fingers, he beckons her even closer.

“Now come here and let me worship you.”

“Yes, sir.”

Trembling with anticipation and renewed arousal, Thalia approaches to stand between his spread legs, seeing his cock twitch and harden again. Tom’s large hands rest around her upper thighs as he pulls her flush against him and presses his face to her stomach. He nuzzles her over the fabric of the teddy, then sneaks his nose and tongue beneath the sheer fabric. He nips and kisses her belly, making her forget about all the stretch marks. When his mouth covers the lacy panties, she gives in and lets her first moan out.

His tongue travels over her covered folds, the fabric soft and thin enough to let her feel the wet heat and pressure of it. Tom continues to kiss, lick and suck at her through the thong, his fingers moving back to knead her ass cheeks and stroke between them. The tip of his nose nudges her hidden clit and Thalia whimpers.

Suddenly she feels herself being moved, Tom’s strong grip hauling her onto the bed. He kneels between her spread thighs, his fingers stroking over the tops of the stockings while his gaze eats her up. She’s burning, needs more, yet she can’t bring herself to plead with him to be faster. Not when he looks at her like this.

Finally, his gaze seeks hers. “Close your eyes. This gift is for me to treasure. It’s my turn to have my fill, and yours to let me do to you whatever I desire.”

She nods frantically, then remembers past orders and forces out a ‘yes.’ Tom reaches to the side and picks up the broad ribbon that tied her parcel together. He leans over to wrap it around her face like an impromptu blindfold, and Thalia shivers. It reminds her of his tie in Chicago and of how amazing it was to have her other senses heightened. This time, it turns her on even more because she’s providing visual stimulation to him while she’s totally in the dark.

Tom’s mouth claims hers and she gives herself over to him. Their tongues dance as she feels his body on top of hers. It’s tantalizing to know that he’s completely naked but makes no move to get her out of the probably sinfully expensive lingerie. His hands caress her body over the fabric, and when she arches in search of more, he presses her back down with his weight.

Then his mouth is everywhere, his teeth, his tongue. It explores every inch of her half-covered breast that is exposed, then wanders lower to torture her through lace and silk until he’s driving her out of her mind and she’s cursing under her breath.

At last, she feels Tom shift, taking some of his weight off her. His hands stroke up her thighs and his fingers dive beneath the thong to draw it to one side. And then nothing, just a waft of cool air on her swollen flesh.

“Please, please, please,” she hears herself beg, her hips bucking in a quest for contact, for much-needed friction.

“You are so fucking beautiful right now, like this,” comes Tom’s husky voice in a growl, startling her. “I’ll never forget this moment and how you offered yourself to me.”

Without warning, his mouth latches onto her dripping folds and feasts on her without mercy. Blind and seemingly existing only for Tom’s pleasure, she feels her climax hovering just out of reach, so intense she’s half-afraid of it. He brings her closer to the brink with the relentless expertise of a lover who knows exactly what she craves, and when two fingers slide deep inside to rub over that magical spot, Thalia comes with a wail that ends in a keening whimper.

She’s barely regained her senses when fumbling fingers tear the blindfold away and Tom’s searing gaze pierces hers.

“My wanton Christmas vixen,” he whispers.

At the same time as his mouth latches onto the side of her neck, he enters her with one single thrust, sinking deep despite his size because she’s so slick and ready.

Their moans mingle as he rolls his hips. His hands find hers and lift them above her head. Their fingers interlace and he presses them into the pillow as he speeds up his thrusts.

“Come again,” he chokes out. “Again, for me.”

When he angles his body and reaches even deeper inside her, Thalia bites her lip to stifle a scream. The fabric of the barely pushed-aside panties rubs over her clit, and combined with Tom’s thrusts, it’s enough to send her spiraling out of control again. At her first clenches around him, he loses his rhythm and groans as if dying. They come together and she’s sure it’s never been this intense before.

What feels like an eternity later, when she still can’t feel some of her limbs, Tom kisses her forehead and cuddles her close.

“Definitely the best Christmas gift I’ve ever given…and received,” he mutters.

Thalia smiles exhaustedly and thinks of the little parcel in her bag, containing a mug that says ‘I’m a professor – what’s your superpower?’ There’ll be time for that. For now, she wants to treasure this moment.

Copyright © 2018  avenger-nerd-mom and devikafernando. All rights reserved. Intellectual property of avenger-nerd-mom

The Bet

The bet aug 12 2018.jpg

The Bet

Educating Thalia

Prologue 2018 pt 2

Collaboration by devikafernando and avenger-nerd-mom

Professors AU

Thalia holds Tom to his promise- whatever she wants for a WHOLE day since she won their World Cup bet!

Warnings: NSFW, language, fingering, oral sex, household chores, intercourse

Word Count 3556

This is an interim piece, catching up with Thalia Barreo and her life. Right now, she’s with Tom, but that doesn’t mean Chris is forgotten… Find out how the story ends in the sequel to Educating Thalia, coming soon!

If you don’t know the story of Thalia and Professor Tom, or how Professor Evans fits into all this, start at the beginning! Read Educating Thalia on WordPress.

Thalia is in heaven today—even if her imaginary halo keeps getting caught on her horns…

She won the World Cup bet with her boyfriend, Professor Tom Hiddleston, and she’s chosen this day to have him be at her beck and call. She wants to make good use of their time before he returns to his home for work. Their jobs keep them busy, she works in Paris while he still teaches literature at a small prestigious university in the countryside, near London. But they always have time for one another, and their summer holiday together was exactly what they both needed. Winning the bet was just an added bonus! Since this morning, she’s made him do all sorts of things, relishing the power she holds over her usually so dominant man.

It started with breakfast in bed. A full English breakfast, of course. Gotta put her British gentleman to proper use, after all. He managed to have it all ready at the same time, hot and tasty, and fed her bite after bite while Thalia returned the favor.

Then she decided some lazy lounging in bed was in order, and she ordered Tom to read to her in his ‘sexy professor voice’. That turned her on so much that she almost jumped his bones right then and there, but she held back. She has plans for her devoted manservant today!

“Now what, Mistress?” Tom gives her a mock half-bow and a radiant smile. He seems to be enjoying himself as much as she is, taking great care to be polite and fast but also sneak in little caresses.

Thalia stretches, relishing the way his eyes grow darker and hungry in an instant when it displays her curves. She’s still wrapped in her blanket whereas Tom dressed in dark jeans and a ratty, almost see-through T-shirt to prepare breakfast.

“Now you put those long, beautiful fingers to good use, Thomas,” she croons.

His eyes darken further, and the tip of his tongue darts out to lick his lips.

“Oh, I can think of several uses for them,” he says with one of those squint-eyed winks of his.

Thalia feels a shiver of anticipation run down her spine but keeps herself in check. Not yet, Chica!

“So can I.” With a grin, she points to a flat, square box in a corner of the room. “Check what’s inside this one.”

Brows quirked, he gives her a long look, then shrugs and goes to get the box.

“Do you by chance have any naughty shenanigans planned, Thalia?”

Her grin widens. “Yes and no.”

Now looking confused, he opens the box, then shoots her a glance of complete bewilderment. He holds up a big, round wall clock, one of those where you can program a different time zone for a smaller clock integrated in the face.

“Perfect. Now be a darling,” she said, pronouncing it his English way, “and hang it on the wall for me. Right there, close to the desk.”

“You want me to…want me to…” Tom spluttered, and she giggles into her hand.

Oh yes, this is going to be such fun.

“Yes. There should be a hammer and nails in the other box I kept there.”

“But…” He stares at her, throat working, eyes blinking. “You know I’m a horrible handyman. I’ll end up getting a fist-sized hole in your wall or hitting my own hand. Or breaking your new clock.”

Tom has an adorably pleading expression on his face that makes her want to giggle again.

“You’ll do just fine. I won’t even mind a crooked clock because I’ll enjoy watching you.”

With an exasperated shake of his head, Tom sets the clock down on the desk and pads over to the second cardboard box she’d indicated, muttering, “Why did I ever agree to that bet?” under his breath.

“Wait.”

He half-turns. “Yes?”

“Strip first.”

The expression on his face is priceless and so comical it could’ve been taken right out of a children’s cartoon. He looks as if she asked him to take her to the moon in a private spaceship.

“What did you say?” he croaks, voice a little higher than usual.

Thalia sits back, crossing her arms and smirking gleefully. “I said, strip for me, Thomas.”

“I…” He blushes crimson, still looking confused as hell. “I thought I was supposed to hang the clock?”

“And you’ll do exactly that—but naked.”

“You’re out of your beautiful, crazy mind, woman!” He’s still blinking and blushing.

Thalia cocks a brow at him, trying her best to lose the humorous expression and glare at him imperiously. “Did you, or did you not, promise me you’d do anything I want for a whole day? Are you a sore loser? A coward?”

Tom’s chin comes up and his jaw firms with the challenge, just as she thought it would.

“You know I always keep my promises!”

“Well, then.” She waves her hand, dismissing it, motioning him to get on with it.

Mumbling expletives under his breath, Tom crosses his arms and shucks the T-shirt. “You’re quite the pervert, darling,” he grouses, one corner of his mouth twitching as if he is holding back a grin. “Are you living out your naughty handyman porn fantasies?”

It’s her turn to stare and huff. “Maybe?”

“Enjoy the show, then.”

With more enthusiasm now, Tom steps out of his jeans. Of course, he wears no boxers beneath, so Thalia gets to ogle him in all his mouth-watering, panty-soaking glory.

“I’m afraid I’m not hard enough to pound nails quite yet,” Tom quipped, “So I’d best use the real hammer.”

Leaving her gaping with his awful pun, she hears him snicker quietly to himself as he goes to retrieve the tools from the box.

“You keep up those terrible jokes, and you’ll be glad you seem to have a special and intimate relationship with that hammer… You don’t wanna lose it.”

He chuckles, turning to discreetly flip her off as he wipes his middle finger across his forehead.

God, he looks gorgeous like this. Unabashedly aroused, Thalia watches him bend and get what he needs. He saunters back to the desk and grabs the clock, and then goes to work without any more protests but still blushing. She knew he would play along, but she underestimated how sexy he would look doing something so mundane yet manly.

Fascinated, she drinks in the play of his muscles as they flex and bunch. His ass looks even sexier than usual when he stretches to try out the right spot for the clock, his calf and thigh muscles and his back muscles and biceps all making her hands itch to touch him.

Milking the situation for all its worth, she has him shift the position a little more left and right and up and down before she finally settles on a place where he’s supposed to hit the nail into the wall.

He’s, as suspected, rather clumsy with such a simple task and almost bangs his own thumb, but somehow, disaster is averted.

Deed accomplished, Tom turns around, and it takes all her willpower to keep her gaze on his face.

“Happy now, darling?”

“Very.” Smiling like the cat that got the cream, Thalia feasts her eyes on him.

“Now, I do believe one of my pantry cupboard doors needs a screw tightened. On we go, Mr. Fix it.”

Throwing his head back, Tom guffaws his signature ‘ehehehe’.

“You’re a minx. Not that I didn’t know that before.” He shoots her a look when she gets up to lead him into the kitchen, blanket still wrapped around her naked form. “A screw to be tightened, hm? Oh, I’m really good at screwing.”

He waggles his eyebrows and it’s her turn to laugh. With a groan, she punches his arm.

“Stop it with the puns. Your professor humor isn’t nearly as funny as you think.”

* * *

For the better part of an hour, Thalia makes her ‘slave’ do all sorts of tasks around the house, and to Tom’s credit, he never loses his sense of humor. Bowing and teasing, thinking up puns and making a real mess of even the easiest fixing jobs, he keeps her entertained.

Thalia makes sure she brushes by him to hand him things, leaning close to point out a mistake, oh so accidentally touched him when handing him tools he needs. He isn’t unaffected by it, oh no. With nothing to hide his body, his gradual arousal becomes obvious.

But even though this is her game, she’s affected as well. How could one not, when he’s a fantasy come true?

“I’m really glad you chose to become a professor and not a carpenter,” she muses with a grin when Tom uses the screwdriver all wrong for the umpteenth time. But oh, those veins in his arms pop nicely when he does that. And he’s worked up a fine sheen of sweat by now, tempting her to lick his glistening abs or draw her fingers over his sparse but lovely happy trail.

“Me too.” He gives her an exasperated look. “Now, unless you want to spend a whole week fixing what I bungled in an hour, you’d better think of something else I should do.”

With a snort, she nods.

“I think you need a wash…and I will join you.”

“Now you’re talking.” Wiggling his brows again, a gleam comes into Tom’s eyes as he steps closer.

Thalia holds up her hands, stopping his progress.

“Remember our first date years ago? When you invited me to the hotel and prepared a bath for me? Pampered me?”

Tom’s pupils dilate, but the smile he shows her is more love than lust, and it sends a spark of awareness through her. “I’ll never forget that day, Thalia. In fact, I haven’t forgotten a single moment ever shared with you, darling. If only you’d acknowledge what…”

She shakes her head and he shuts his mouth, breaking eye contact for a moment. Unspoken words hang between them, but neither of them seems ready to face the music.

“I’ll go get that bath ready,” Tom mutters and leaves.

Thalia swallows but refuses to wallow in thoughts. Today is supposed to be fun. They will battle their demons later.

And so she sips some left-over coffee and idly wanders around the small kitchen, ignoring the papers from her latest work offer, listening to Tom whistle while he prepares her bath.

“Ready whenever you are,” she hears him call after a while and walks towards his cheerful voice.

The scent of orchids drifts to her as she enters the bathroom. The tub might be a bit smaller than the one they shared in the hotel in America but she’s chosen this place because it’s at least big enough to accommodate her curves. Frothy lavender-colored foam greets her alongside the flowery bath bomb fragrance.

Tom is waiting for her with an outstretched hand, now crooking his finger to beckon her closer. As that day, he slowly undresses her, kneeling at her feet and pulling the fuzzy blanket away from her body. He presses tiny, teasing kisses along her thighs and belly. He nuzzles softly, inhales her in that way he has and sends her senses tingling.

“Let me pamper you, my magnificent warrior princess,” Tom whispers, reaching up and pulling her down for a kiss.

Their lips meet gently at first. Seeking, soothing. Then he slides his tongue in and takes over, just for a moment, just long enough to make her insides quiver before he withdraws and takes her hand.

He leads her to the tub where nice-smelling steam is rising temptingly. Before she can even squeak in surprise, he’s lifted her into his strong arms and lowered her safely into the water. God, she still loves it how easily Tom can handle her, and how much tenderness lurks beneath the strength.

With a contented sigh, Thalia scoots forward in the warm, scented bath water. Tom climbs in behind her and draws her close so that her back rests firmly against his chest and his thighs cradle hers.

For a few blissful moments, they stay like this, soaking in their togetherness, calming their ever-lurking arousal.

“Let me wash your hair?” It’s more of a question than a command, and to her that speaks volumes.

“Yes, please.”

With a small hum of satisfaction, Tom uses the detachable shower head to wet her hair, then grabs a shampoo bottle. As soon as he begins massaging her scalp and sifting his tapered fingers through her hair, she closes her eyes in bliss—then opens them in surprise when his voice filters through, low and deep and almost hypnotizing.

She walks in beauty, like the night. Of cloudless climes and starry skies,” he starts reciting the poem by Lord Byron, not stopping until he’s finished it.

Knowing they need to talk, it makes her emotional. The university hiring committee is waiting for her answer, but she can’t bring herself to broach the subject with him. Just not yet. She knows he won’t like it, but she’s asked them to find an opening for him too. But the opportunity is too good to pass up this time, especially if she wants further funding for research… Pressing her eyes closed tightly and telling herself it’s simply the shampoo making her eyes sting with tears, she loses herself in the moment.

Once Tom is done massaging, he washes her hair lovingly, then repeats the whole process with conditioner.

“More?” he asks softly, and she swallows past the lump in her throat and croaks out a “yes, sir” automatically, even though he is technically her ‘slave for the day’.

“My good girl. Let’s pamper you some more.”

Tom’s hands glide over her body, slick with body wash. Kneading and molding, washing and caressing, leaving no inch of her untouched. With torturous slowness, they make their way up her thighs and skim to the insides, grazing the sensitive skin with only the fingertips and blunt nails, scratching ever so slightly to make Thalia shiver.

“More?” he asks again, and this time she can only nod.

One hand wanders back to anchor itself on her hip, a firm grip that will probably leave a faint bruise and stakes a claim as well as keeps her in place. His other hand is as gentle as can be, drifting between her thighs and seeking. Then finding unerringly as his fingers slide through her folds, slick despite the water and despite her attempt to control herself.

The digits part her folds, stroking and rubbing softly until she bucks into his touch with a soft pleading moan.

“More?”

“Y-yes, please.”

Tom’s teeth scrape over the nape of her neck at the same time as his fingers apply more pressure. Thalia is torn between arching into his touch to finally persuading him to slide his fingers inside and rubbing back against the erection growing firmer against her ass now.

Tom bites her a little harder, at the tender spot where neck and shoulder meet. His fingers, in sharp contrast to his mouth, remain gentle. Elusive even as she tries to wiggle her hips. They skirt past her swollen nub, stroke her slick lips, delve below to the first knuckle only to withdraw and leave her clenching on emptiness.

“Tom, please.”

“How do you beg for it, my precious warrior princess?” His voice is a growly purr, she can’t even find words for how it sounds and what it does to her.

“Please, sir.”

With a low sound of approval, Tom hooks a foot around her leg and spreads her thighs further apart. His mouth continues its ravenous assault on her neck and shoulders, nipping and licking and sucking, and finally his fingers lose some of their teasing gentleness.

He crooks his digit to slide lower and deeper while grinding his palm against her clit, applying just enough pressure.

“Come now, like this, or you won’t get to come for a long time yet.” She hears his order before he tugs on her earlobe with his teeth, and the words trigger an automatic reaction.

It takes only a few more flicks of his wrist and slicks of his tongue for her to clamp tightly around his finger and moan out her release.

“One down, more to come,” she hears Tom murmur through the haze still surrounding her, and he even keeps a straight face despite another groan-worthy pun.

Thalia has barely blinked herself alive again when she’s being moved effortlessly again. The next second, there’s water splashing everywhere and her butt hits the cool edge of the tub.

“Tom, wha-?”

Her protest dies in another moan when Tom scoots her forward and kneels between her thighs to nip his way along them to Promised Land.

“Will you come for me again?” He gazes up at her from between her legs, eyes ablaze with hunger and intense focus, so close to her folds that she can feel his breath.

“Yes. God, yes.”

The fire in his eyes seems to burn brighter before he lowers his face and begins to lap at her. It starts out with little kitten licks, flutters of the tip of his tongue, then longer sweeps as if he’s cherishing an ice cream cone. When her fingers wind into his damp hair and hold on for dear life, Tom delves in for real.

Her whimpers and gasps echo in the bathroom as he drives her higher and higher, even adding the tiniest nips to her swollen lips and little sucks to her needy bundle of nerves. He snakes that unfairly long tongue into her, then drives it up and circles and circles with maddening precision until Thalia comes apart for him a second time.

Panting, she needs a moment to recover, and she knows she’s just made some more memories she’ll never forget. When she can focus on Tom again, he’s licking her essence from his lips, one hand holding her steady while the other is almost reflexively curled around his shaft, stroking.

Fuck, that’s hotter than it should be.

“God, I could get used to this,” she says half to herself, and he quirks his infuriating brows.

“Just imagine how often I could ‘pamper’ you if we spent the rest of our lives together.”

For a moment, he looks as shocked at his remark as she feels. But the next moment, he leans forward to give one of her furled nipples a hearty suck before glancing up.

“Bedroom?” he asks.

“Bedroom.”

She didn’t even intend to get to the naughty part of this day so fast but it feels so right that she doesn’t want to change a thing. There’s always the afternoon and evening for more ways to make him pay his debt. And they’ll talk tomorrow. Or the next day… There’s still time before he goes back to work, still time before she has to answer the teams’ inquiry.

Tom rises to his glorious height, water sluicing over his pecs and abs. He gets out of the tub first, then helps her and rubs her dry with a towel before giving himself the same treatment with obvious haste.

Once more, Thalia is being lifted into his arms, and this time he nearly stumbles because she kisses him with all the fierce longing inside her. God knows how he does it, but he doesn’t break the passionate lip-lock or dump them both on the floor when he stumbles to the bedroom.

She lands on the mattress with a bounce and can barely draw in a breath of anticipation before Tom crawls over her. Letting her feel the weight of his body on hers, he runs the tip of his nose along her throat, jaw and cheek, breathing her in.

“I just want to…I just want to love you right now. No kinky business. Okay, darling?”

Thalia lifts a leg to wind it around his hip and make him settle in the cradle of her hips.

“Okay.”

How did he know that she’s been longing for exactly this? Even she didn’t know it until he uttered the words just now!

Tom backs away a little, kissing her pebbled nipples and brushing his mouth back up to seal it over hers in another heart-melting kiss.

He brings his hands up one by one, linking his fingers with hers and drawing them up to rest on the pillow. For a moment, they stare into each other’s eyes.

Then he angles his pelvis, tightens his grip on her fingers, and slides into her with a slow thrust that has him sinking deeper and deeper until he bottoms out.

Her moan mingles with Tom’s low groan, and she feels him shudder once.

They move in sync, her body rising to meet each of his thrusts, his breath mixing with hers when he kisses her again and again until he’s everywhere and everything.

Another shift makes him hit that magical spot inside her, and Thalia clenches around him, causing him to whimper and lock his jaw.

“Now.”

She holds his gaze. “Now.”

And when he increases his speed and keeps brushing over the place that makes her see stars, she comes for the third time, triggering his own release.

“I should definitely lose bets more often,” he wheezes a few moments later, his chuckle as weak as her sated grin.

If you don’t know the story of Thalia and Professor Tom, or how Professor Evans fits into all this, start at the beginning. Read Educating Thalia on WordPress.

Copyright © 2018  avenger-nerd-mom and devikafernando.  All rights reserved. Intellectual property of avenger-nerd-mom

 

Goals

prologue goals july 8

Goals

Collaboration by devikafernando and avenger-nerd-mom

AU Fiction

Professor Tom Hiddleston and Thalia Bareo place a wager on the FIFA World Cup 2018 outcome

Warnings: language, fluff, teasing

Word Count: 1725

This little drabble doesn’t offer any answers to “What’s Thalia been up to?” or “Who is Thalia dating?” This is just a summer Saturday, a little peek into her life…

If you don’t know the story of Thalia and Professor Tom, or how Professor Evans fits into all this, start at the beginning. Read Educating Thalia on WordPress.

Prologue 2018

“Bloody hell, that was clearly offside!”

With an indignant half-yell, Tom sets his chips bag down on the table with somewhat too much force. To his right, Thalia shouts her support.

“At least by a foot! Is the side referee blind or what?”

God, she truly is the perfect football companion, Tom thinks to himself with a grin. He’s infinitely glad that he can share the experience with her. Still giddy that England has made it to the quarter finals of the FIFA World Cup 2018, he’s practically bouncing in his seat with energy. He’s already dashed off to the loo twice, feeling like a little boy again, and eating as well as drinking too much—but so is the excited, gorgeous woman on the couch next to him.

They are watching the match at her place, and though she still didn’t have a TV when she moved into this apartment, Tom quickly rectified the situation. Just so they could follow England’s journey to victory, he’s bought a huge flat-screen. Thalia, on the other hand, has invested in face paint, little flags, and football—correction, soccer—jerseys of the teams that have her support.

cookies goals

Tom smirks to himself and shakes his head a little, hiding his expression behind another cookie. Thalia’s Latina side has been showing itself repeatedly the past few weeks. She’s been vocally supportive of every single Central- and South-American team, especially Mexico and Brazil, often growing animated while watching the matches. He’s been ribbed endlessly—and enjoyed the hell out of it; not least because their excitement during the match inevitably leads to after-match romps in the sheets.

Now that there are only European teams left, Thalia has switched sides and gifted her loyalty to the English team alongside him, and it never fails to make him smile how enthusiastically she cheers—and curses—for them as well.

“What are you smiling about so smugly?” Her raspy voice interrupts his thoughts.

Tom leans over to press a rather chaste, smacking kiss onto her luscious lips, startling her into a squeak. “Nothing in particular. And everything at once.” He steals one of her marshmallows, gobbles it up and holds his finger out to let her lick the sweet powder from the digit—which she does with blazing temptation in her eyes. He winks at her and says, “Hold that thought,” and he hurriedly refocuses on the second half of the match. “I’m just so happy to be sharing all this with you.” Tom gestures broadly, loving it that she returns his smile now.

She opens her mouth to reply but then both of them freeze for a second, eyes glued to the screen.

“Goal!”

They shout it simultaneously, exchanging a disbelieving-overjoyed glance before taking in the replays of the header that puts England firmly in the lead. With a score of 2:0, they’re as good as through to the semifinals now.

“Oh my god, oh my god, fucking yes!” Tom jumps up from the couch, nearly upending his popcorn bowl while he pumps his fist into the air.

jersey goals

Thalia is clapping and whooping, and his eyes are drawn to her outfit. While he has opted for comfy, holey sweatpants and a faded England jersey he’s saved all the way from his twenties, Thalia is wearing black yoga pants and a very new team jersey that’s so tight it stretches over her ample curves like a second skin. Dammit, she’s delicious like this, eyes glowing, hair wild, cheeks flushed, and bosom heaving.

Ball not boobs, Hiddleston, he reminds himself and tears his gaze away from her generous breasts with great effort.

They settle down after some more cheering, their hands reaching for the popcorn at the same time.

“What’s the goal scorer’s name again?” Thalia asks. “He’s kinda cute.”

Scandalized, Tom snaps his head around. “Woman! He’s 22! He’s just a boy!”

She shrugs and lifts a saucy brow at him. “So? You’re hardly in a position to get your underwear in a twist about age differences, Professor.”

For a moment, he can only splutter and gape at her, then he narrows his eyes at her smirk. Oh, he’ll punish her for all that sass, after the game is over…

Refocusing on the quarter final just as Sweden is unable to turn a really good shot at the goal into an actual point for them, Tom rests his hand on Thalia’s thick thigh, fingers digging in possessively.

He feels her shudder once and snuggle closer, though she keeps her attention on the TV. All right, all right, he knows he shouldn’t feel a slight stab of jealousy over a football player she might find ‘cute’, but it does bring out his possessive side. Tom lets his fingers glide a little higher on her thigh. He’s been trying all this time not to glance at a certain corner of the room and to keep his jealousy at bay. A corner with a shelf that holds three framed photographs he can’t stand to look at for long.

Thalia with a now older child, Avery, both of them making silly faces at the camera. Avery in a colorful butterfly costume from probably some school play or other. And the third photo, which he avoids looking at the most…of Thalia, Avery and her father, Professor Evans. Tom knows that Thalia has been keeping in touch with both of them and spends quite some time with them when her work schedule allows. And he shouldn’t begrudge her that. He’s knows better now, doesn’t he? He rubs over the small scar on the back of his knuckle. He fucking knows that he can’t go all Neanderthal and throw her over his shoulder to haul her away to a cave and keep her away from the rest of the world. But still, it stings.

This isn’t the time for pondering and moping, dammit. It is her apartment, although his touches also fill the space. Rare tomes and artifacts from their travels together. And the bed they share. He cocks his head. Let the other man have a photo. He has the real thing..

Downing the last of his beer with his free hand and setting the can down a bit forcefully, Tom straightens his shoulders and puffs up his chest. Just when he pays attention to the match again, a Swedish player crumbles to the ground, clutching his ankle and grimacing in pain.

“Oh, sod off, you bleeding actor you!” He grouses and thumps his fist against his thigh before throwing his hand up in disgust, displaying his long fingers. “That was barely a touch, there’s no need to pretend you’re dying.”

Thalia snort-snickers and nudges him with her elbow. “Takes a performer to know one, huh?”

He relaxes a bit to snicker too, watching as the referee gives a free kick to Sweden. “I’m just glad we’ve seen fewer fouls this time than in 2014,” he says, calming down somewhat and hoping fervently that the free kick won’t provide the opposing team with a goal chance. “The VAR introduction seems to help.”

Once the situation is diffused, he and Thalia discuss the Video Assistant Referee system, Tom weighing in with some previous experiences from club team matches which Thalia doesn’t usually watch.

“But I bet a lot of fans and even players are blaming the VAR for their team going out of the tournament,” she adds and devours another of the mini-sandwiches that Tom has prepared as a snack.

“Mhm, probably.” Tom leans over to lick a smudge of mayonnaise off the corner of her mouth, then lets his tongue glide leisurely over her lips. When they part, he delves in quickly, laps at her tongue and draws back to savor the taste with a quiet hum.

Focus, he orders himself, seeing Thalia pull herself together and redirect her gaze to the television too.

“Speaking of bets,” he says, “it looks like I’ll soon be enjoying a day to do with you whatever I please.”

Thalia baited him into betting at the beginning of the World Cup. She swore France with all its young, dynamic players would win this time, but of course Tom insisted it would be England. So they’ve bet that whoever wins gets the opportunity to do with the other one whatever they want for a whole day. The wicked possibilities have him rubbing his hands together, but Thalia just scoffs and rolls her eyes at him.

“Not so fast. England hasn’t even reached the semis yet.”

The next moment, Tom whoops in glee as the referee’s whistle indicates that the match is over.

“Yes, we have. Yes, we fucking have, darling!”

He turns to her for a high five, which Thalia gives him with a shake of her head but also a wide, happy grin.

Tom hauls her closer with one arm and pulls her onto his lap, not even caring that the players’ celebrations on screen are blocked from view.

“Now, why don’t I show you how a real man celebrates a victory, and give you a taste of what’s to come when I’ll have you at my beck and call for a whole day?” he purrs, letting his voice go lower and deeper, and feeling her shiver in his arms.

“Yes, please…Sir.”

She adds the last word softly, after a brief hesitation. Now that they’ve mostly moved away from the ‘Professor and student’ thing and that Thalia has grown more mature, they don’t often return to their slight dom-sub tendencies from the beginnings. But whenever they do, both of them delight in the additional thrill.

Grasping the globes of her lush ass, Tom shifts her even closer and nuzzles her neck. He inhales her orchid scent, one that’s been haunting him for ages. When she makes a soft, contented sound, he turns the nuzzling into kisses, then gives in to the urge and opens his mouth over her pulse point to suck a mark. Biting down slightly until she squirms, he lets one hand wander into her unruly curls to pull her head back for even better access, continuing to lavish her neck with licks and sucks.

The raucous cheering on TV fades into the background as the fingers of his other hand slide beneath the waist of her yoga pants. She leans forward, burrowing his face in her cleavage, and removes his glasses, tossing them to the side table.

To find out the outcome, click to read “The Bet.”

If you don’t know the story of Thalia and Professor Tom, or how Professor Evans fits into all this, start at the beginning. Read Educating Thalia on WordPress.

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