Christmas in Munich
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.
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.
* * *
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.”
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