Whatever You Need

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Whatever You Need

Being Thalia

Chapter 23

By avenger-nerd-mom & devikafernando

AU Fan Fiction

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

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

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

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

Word Count: 3052

Summary: Tom and Thalia’s reunion continues…

*****THIS CHAPTER IS NSFW****

Previous Chapter, Beg For It

The taunts of his handyman skills still hang in the air as Thalia turns on the bed, falling onto her palms, with her ass towards him.

“Darling, not to complain… well, you’re still overdressed.” Thankful her position blocks her view, Tom pushes his hands against the table, hoisting himself up, his bones popping and creaking. Tilting his head right and left, he stretches out the stiff muscles in his neck, held awkwardly for so long as he was going down on his woman.

His.

Feeling the tightening in his shorts again, he quickly slips out of them and walks to the bathroom.

“What are you doing?” she calls out.

“Condoms,” he answers, rifling through his shaving kit. Mumbling under his breath, he adds, “Although I’m sure there’s some in the little sex kit in your purse.”

“Like that, do you?” She looks up and their eyes connect in the bathroom mirror. “Go pick out something we’d enjoy.”

“You are a bad girl,” he belly-laughs as he pulls the strip of condoms from the bottom of the bag.

“Me? You’re the one with, what? Like six condoms in your hand.”

“You’re not going anywhere until we use all of them,” he proclaims, dropping a pile of towels on the bed near her folded hands. “And you’re still dressed.”

“Then do something about it, Thomas,” she says, hissing out his name.

Smacking her ass, he looks her over, trying to figure out the lovely fashion. It’s not her usual style with a tie at the waist. “Completely stunning, I hate to ruin it… But if I can’t figure it out soon enough, I’m just going to rip it from your body.”

Gasping at the thought, he sees she’s already dripping between her legs. She’ll be wanting him to hurry up. His cock twitches, and he leans over her, rubbing himself against the slick running down her thigh. He bends to lick it, circling his tongue over the small bite mark from his previous play.

“Zipper’s at the neck,” she whispers.

His hand slides up her spine, gently forcing her down on to her elbows. Draping her wild, curly mane over her shoulder, his long fingers find the tiny zipper and pull down. Leaning over her full figure, pressing his cock between her thighs, he reassures her with tiny kisses down her back as he exposes her skin. “So beautiful, Thalia. All of you; all mine.” She moans appreciatively, accepting his words, as her hands grip and release the bedding, reminding him of a kitten pawing in contentment. “Are you happy, darling? You’ve made me so happy.”

Estoy contenta,” she replies, rocking back into him.

Unable to resist the temptation, he grabs her hip, thrusting his hard cock between her legs, rubbing himself against her and smearing her juices. So wet, he easily slides inside her and she hisses again, moving away from him. “Uh, uh. Nope,” she scolds.

“Three seconds of pure heaven,” he mutters, quickly rolling the condom on, stroking his shaft and securing it into place. “I’ve waited too damn long for this. Your arse; damn, love, you have no idea how I’ve dreamed of this,” he praises, plunging himself into her center, dress still bunched around her waist.

“Fuck,” she cries out, twisting the sheets in her hands, taking his assault.

As if no time has passed, they fall into their rhythm together. Tom bucks forward as she rocks on and off his cock, stretching her, filling her. Her tight walls pulse around him, pulling him in deeper each time. Fumbling with her bra, he finally rips the fabric, pulling the blasted thing out of his way, freeing her breasts. As he continues to pound into her from behind, he reaches around her sides, wrapping himself around her, hugging her tightly and clutching the swinging globes, rolling the peaked nipples between his fingers. Her sounds echo in his ears as the crescendo rises, sounds of a woman, not afraid if anyone knows they’re fucking like animals in his hotel room. No need to keep secrets anymore. He finds his own sounds mimicking hers, an auditory delight.

“Shit, darling, so good,” he sighs, feeling her fingertips drag along his shaft with each thrust. “What are you doing?”

Rocking forward, tilting her ass a little higher in the air, she sighs. “Just needed a little more… playing with my clit.”

“Fucking hell,” he pants, her words already stitching across his memory, forever ingrained. “That’s hot as fuck. Let me help.”

“No! Don’t change anything,” she breathes heavily. “So close.”

Chuckling, a light sweat across his brow, he holds to the rhythm, careful not to change a thing for his lady love as she drives herself closer to her release. He smacks her ass. “Come for me, darling. I beg you. Spill all over me, pinch it. Rub it. Whatever you need.” Lunging himself forward, he pushes against her secret spot, biting at her shoulder as he feels the change in her before she does. “Let go, Thalia, let go. I’ve got you. Always.”

He continues his thrusts as her hands falter and her legs quake. She stills momentarily, before falling to the bed, twisting onto her back and pulling him down on top of her. Grabbing between them, she strokes his cock, guiding it inside. “Do it again, come for me now, Tom.”

He smiles down at her, tenderly kissing her forehead, covered in a sheen of sweat, tiny curls stuck to her skin. “Anything for you, darling. Your wish is my command.” Grabbing her knee, kneading her fleshy thigh, loving the feel of a real woman in his arms, he pins her leg to his side. Shifting forward, he raises his foot up, planting it on the bed near her hip, lunging forward, pinning her to the bed. With each push, she scoots across the bed, till her head nearly hangs over the other side. Lifting her head, she smiles at him and their eyes lock. A million thoughts pass between them wordlessly as he spills into her, filling the condom as she comes again, gripping his ass, her fingernails cutting into him. He relishes the pain, proof of passion he hasn’t felt in ages, the ache inside finally filled as he empties himself into the only woman he’s ever loved.

Hours later, two more used condoms lie twisted and knotted on the floor by the bed. Tom’s grin has locked his jaw and he rubs it, trying to loosen the joint as his other hand twists in her hair. Or maybe it’s not his smiling, but the action it’s had, licking her pretty pussy, or sucking her glorious nipples. Either way, it’s a forgotten pain, one he’ll gladly get used to again.

“What are you thinking about?” she asks, turning her head, digging her chin between his ribs and dragging her fingers through the faint trail of blond hairs on his belly.

“I haven’t fucked like that in ages,” he blurts out. Abashedly, he admits, “I can’t remember the last time I licked a cunt, and never one as good as yours.”

Thalia lifts her head to look at him. “You and your fiancé never-”

He tilts his head, resting it back against the headboard. Shaking back and forth, he shares. “Said it wasn’t cleanly; it just wasn’t something we did-”

“You love eating pussy!” She lifts her head, staring at him incredulously. “You were going to marry a woman who wouldn’t let you go down on her?”

Tom bristles, feeling a need to defend his jilted ex. “Thalia, there’s just some things we shouldn’t-”

“No. No. There’s too many things we never said. From this point on, if this is gonna work, we don’t keep secrets. Right now, we’re in a bubble. We’re gonna talk about things that are damn painful, and neither of us can get mad about it, or jealous. Can you do that, Tom? Not get jealous? Not punch walls?” She pulls herself out from under the blanket, sitting cross legged on the bed next to him. Grabbing a pillow, she hugs it to her chest. “I beg you, Thomas. We need to talk about things. Get it out now, leave it behind us in this room so we can move on.” She shrugs. “And if we can’t leave it behind, can’t not get jealous, then we leave each other alone, for good.”

Reading her face, an icy sneer hides behind her eyes, almost challenging. She doesn’t think he can do it. Fine. He’ll cut his heart out, put it on a platter and serve it up. Prove to her he’s man enough to take it. “Yes, yes, Thalia, I was going into a marriage of convenience, filled with dutiful sex, but no passion.”

“That sounds boring as hell… Tell me about her. Sabrina. How did you two meet?”

Tom shrugs, running his hand down his chest, and pulling the sheet higher up over his belly. “We were childhood friends. Our parents knew one another, and we were always thrown into social situations. I knew she’d had a crush on me when we were teens, but she was a bit sheepish and boring.” He looks up at the ceiling, unable to avoid Thalia’s watchful brown eyes. “I wanted adventure, something wild and untamed…” He twists his fingers in the sheets. “I eventually found it, and ruined it, as you know, because of my own bloody jealousy. Insecurities.” He looks at her, but she’s examining a tear in her stockings, the only article of clothing still on her body. “I was left damaged, and honestly didn’t want to love again. I was punishing myself, in more ways than one. When we ran into one another at a theater production in the West End, she just made things simple. I’m not proud of it; I behaved badly. I’ve left her with a mess to fix, and I do need to get back to London to take care of expenses.” He scoffs. “Cancelling a wedding is almost as expensive as having one.”

Thalia taps her foot against his thigh, pulling off the ruined nylon. “Did you love her?”

Raising his eyebrow, he nods. “I did, I do. More as a friend, a confidant…” He swallows hard. “I think… Well, it sickens me to say it out loud, but I think I settled with her, because in some ways, she reminded me of you. We could talk about the same books and theater, challenge each others ideas on politics. Fit in with the social set. Good box seats at Wimbledon with her family connections… On paper, she’s equal to you in many aspects except where it mattered most, true love, affection, wild abandon. She wouldn’t be the type to lie in bed, eating pizza and watching FIFA.” Reaching across, he lifts under Thalia’s chin, bringing her eyes to his. “No one could ever replace you.”

“So you settled?” She nods, leaning back from his hold. “I don’t know if I’m honored or sad…”

“Well, circumstances somehow found you back here, in my bed. You never settled?”

He doesn’t really want to know her story, knowing it includes Evans, but if getting it out now means they never have to talk about it again, he’d rather rip the band aid off all at once.

“Can you do this? Can you listen and I talk, and it not be an issue?” she asks, placing her hand on his knee with a gentle squeeze.

“I beg you to be honest with me, love, or you’re right, we’ll never get past it.”

She rubs her lips together, thoughtfully. “It wouldn’t have been settling, for me. It would have been right, in so many ways.” Her voice drops. “The ring was beautiful, and I even wore it awhile, but after saying no three times, he never asked again.” She stares at her bare hand, running her thumb over the spot where a ring once sat. His heart chills, hearing she almost married the man. Had she done it, actually walked down the aisle, he may very well have needed to kill himself, simply to end the pain.

She shakes her head, continuing. “I wanted more, adventure, far away places. After traveling a time or two long distance with a kid, it quickly became clear it would be one thing I’d have to leave out…” Tilting her head, she continues. “I was selfish, kept looking for the next challenge, searching museum openings and dig opportunities. Can’t really do that if kids are in tow.” She looks up. “But I’m really happy here. I love Madrid, so many opportunities and archaeology sites are easy to get to throughout Europe; I haven’t done a job search in nearly a year.”

Tom nods, clearing his throat. “And you… you and Evans-”

“Good friends. But he’s got a new life now, getting married soon, to the mother of his newborn son. She’s not too fond of me, but knows we talk occasionally.” She tilts her head, sighing. “Once or twice a week.” She shrugs. “If I’m being honest, we talk pretty regularly, it’s almost as helpful as therapy.” At his glance, she scoffs. “Yes, I go to therapy now…” She wipes a stray hair off her cheek. “I might be going to the States in a few weeks. He’s asked to me to cover his class the two weeks they’ll be gone after the wedding. I can’t, I can’t go see that,” she swallows hard, avoiding Tom’s watching eyes, “but I’d like to meet his son, see his daughter. I like to find little trinkets in the market to send Avery. She’s practically a teenager now. God, she’s so funny, such a dry wit; really keeps you on your toes-”

So Evans is out of the picture? Tom holds the thought, saving his triumphant gloat for later. “And the man at the museum, on the steps the other night? From what I overheard, he seems to think he has a claim on you?”

Thalia rolls her eyes, tugging her fingers through her hair. “That was a one time thing, and a mistake. I think I got my message through loud and clear.”

“Thalia, if he gives you any grief, you let me know and we’ll-”

“Tom, you aren’t my protector,” she warns. “I can take care of myself. I had it under control.” She winks. “I can be very controlling and domineering when I need to be.”

He steeples his fingers and folds them over his chest, absently scratching the little hairs between his pecs. “Mistress, your domme persona could use a little work,” he teases. “And the purse full of toys?” Fuck. He knows he doesn’t really want to know the answer to that.

She laughs, looking to the abandoned bag on the couch. “All mine, things I bought myself. I kind of, well, see when I was young and impressionable, I dated an older guy. He was like a god, on a pedestal.” Tom blushes at her description, dropping his eyes, and wondering where she’s taking this. “Sexy as fuck. All the girls at school thought he would be kinky. Something about his accent? The way he always carried himself so formally. And he was, a little bit, but always so patient with me, when I’d ask questions or want to try something new. Every day I pinched myself that he chose me, when he had scores of undergrads, skinny and shiny, throwing themselves at him.” She smiles up at him. “He gave me confidence, helped mold me into the woman I am today. He taught me about high society, which fork to use and all that, but from him I also learned not to be afraid of things, to keep an open mind.” Tucking the pillow under her chin, she finishes. “I really owe him a lot.”

“It sounds like you do… This man, older, wiser, incredibly good looking?” He grabs the pillow, chuckling when she attempts to swat him with it. “He helped you discover some kinks?”

She nods, biting her lip. “There’s things I’ve tried that I like, things I didn’t, things I have yet to try.”

“Really, like what?” he asks, intrigued. He detests knowing she’s shared things with him, another man, his sworn enemy, but he is curious about her sexual awakening.

“Play with my ass, smack it, lick it; I’ll love you forever.” She throws her head back and laughs at the look on his face. “But don’t you think about trying to get in there. You’re too big, honey.” She holds her hands two feet apart and he doubles over in laughter, blushing. She bites her lip, reading his expression. “Things I’d like to try? A spreader bar, between my feet, maybe ropes? Pushed over the edge of a desk. Never tried that bit of extra. I have a desk kink, no idea why?” She laughs.

The image clouding his brain may never be washed away, Thalia over his desk, in his home office, legs spread wide. His cock twitches, and the words fly out before he thinks. “With a ball gag in that pretty little mouth of yours? Hell, yes, fuckin’ right!”

No puedo hablar cosas sexuales si lo tengo en mi boca,” she whispers, crawling over him.

“Hell, you’re right, you need to be able to say all the sexy things. Only my cock in your mouth,” he agrees, pulling down on her lip with his thumb as she grinds against him. “Hey!” He shouts when she climbs off him, getting down from the bed. “Where are you going?”

“I’m starving. Need sustenance if we’re using up the other condoms!”

Stunned that he’s come this far after he’d nearly despaired, Tom watches his woman pad across the room in all her naked glory. He pinches himself, smothering a small yelp when it stings. So he’s not dreaming. She’s really invaded his hotel room, clouded his senses, reclaimed him in all the best ways. But Tom has learned his lesson; he won’t be too eager, won’t take things for granted. There’s still so much to be said and done.

Content to look his fill as she’s puttering about to get them a midnight snack ready, he wonders what other matters need to be cleared before Thalia will truly let him in again.

Click here to read Chapter 24, Second Chances

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

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

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