033. 5SOS Preferences: Nerd
This was a request. It’s pretty smutty in parts. It’s NSFW. Read and review at your own discretion, thanks. I hope it’s alright.
He looked busy, but lost at the same time and you hadn’t realized before that someone could wear both conflicting expressions so well. His blue eyes were like a child’s as they wandered around the corners of the room, his body slumped over the edge of the wooden table as he reached into the plastic bag of baby carrots by his open textbook. Other kids would pass by the math classroom, rap against the window as if to evoke a reaction from those inside of it at lunch time like they were gorillas caged in the zoo. You weren’t trying to harass him though, you were trying to work up the courage to talk someone you had never spoken to before despite having gone to school with him since year seven. Running a hand through your hair, you tossed it over to one side before filling your lungs with a breath of confidence and walking right into the room as if you spent all your lunch periods in there. The truth of the matter was you were always in the quad at lunch, sitting out under the sunshine in the company of your two best friends and laughing about how stupid some of the boneheads in your class could be. Luke Hemmings was never a topic in conversation.
A few raised brows followed you as you quietly walked through the middle row of desks, headed to the back table where Luke sat primarily alone. His mother had been there earlier and even a couple other students, but they had since left him to his own devices.
“Hi.” Clearing your throat, you tightly put your lips together and smiled at the top of his blond quiff. He had his headphones in, the sound of a song you had never heard before pounding out. It took Luke a second, biting a wet carrot in half before noticing the shadow cast over him by your arrival.
“Oh, shit.” He muttered before knocking the earbuds from his ears and his fingers nervously played on his lap in order to pause the song on his iPod. “Um, can I help you?” He wrinkled up his nose, squinting as he swallowed the taste of carotene.
“I actually…” Rolling your eyes back, you tried to muster up enough self-confidence to explain your situation. “I don’t know how busy you are,” You didn’t really know anything about Luke Hemmings as he wasn’t a boy who shone on anyone’s radar at school. “I was just wondering if you were able to tutor another student. It’s cool if you can’t, but Mr. Dawson is killing me with all this homework. I’m just not…”
“I’m not a tutor.” Tighter, Luke squinted at you, his hands under the table and racing back and forth over his knees, leaving sweat stains on his gray uniform trousers.
“You’re not? But you’re always in here at lunch.” He was supposedly very good at math. While people largely ignored the math student’s son, they did know that he had one of the highest marks in the grade.
“This is my mom’s room.” Without thinking, he answered as his eyes shifted from wall to wall, noticing the two spots where his mother’s name was written, one on a door and the other in blue whiteboard marker over the board. “Not that I eat lunch with my Mom, but….” Instantly, he tried to rectify what he had revealed, reaching up with one clammy hand and wiping at the breakout on his jawline before beginning to talk vibrantly with his hands. “I just, like, come in here and do my work and, like, she’s here so we talk…cause she’s my mom and…I…” He couldn’t wiggle his way out of what he had just exposed though. He did eat lunch with his mom practically every day of the week except when she had to ditch him for a staff meeting or to help a student with extra credit work. The cafeteria might as well have been a war zone for Luke Hemmings. Girls invited him to sit with them only to make jokes about his acne while the guys shoved him in the back until he was pushed up against a wall, his iPod and headphones disconnected on the ground and becoming garbage to be stepped on by other students. It was just easier to sit in the classroom and eat, even on days like today when his mum was busy.
“Okay, well, do you know who does tutor?” Glancing behind your shoulder, hair whipping around, you studied the back of the other heads in the room, but Luke spoke up, almost yelling for your attention, and you focused back to him again.
“I could tutor you.” He was good at math even if his lack of self-esteem refused to let those words peter out of his dry lips. “I’m not a tutor, but I could.”
“Are you sure? If you’re busy…”
Luke had to stop himself from rolling his eyes or saying another word. He didn’t want to make it obvious just how not busy he was. He imagined that he would probably be spending the weekend in his basement, maybe teaching himself another Rolling Stones song on the guitar, maybe trying to beat his brother at Fifa, and most definitely joining his mom on a trip to the supermarket. He had room in his schedule to help you with your math homework. In fact, it would have been the most exciting thing on his list of things to do. He was already thinking of what he was going to write on his Tumblr page when he was home from school today, something along the lines of: Of course the day I forgot my inhaler at home is the day a girl with a cute smile and amazing body talks to me. Oh yeah, I also told her I eat lunch with my mum every day. Way to go, Hemmo.
“I’m not that busy.” Luke said in place of explaining his embarrassingly bare schedule. “I think I could make any day work. Even tonight.” He shrugged as if it was no big deal while internally preparing a confetti canon in case you agreed.
“Tonight doesn’t work actually.” He felt like an idiot for assuming that there was a possibility it would. Of course, you were busy. People liked you. Luke had taken note of how the girls in your shared World History class always saved a spot for you in the back row. He wasn’t sure if anyone had saved him a spot since the first grade when Alex Kinkade used to insist that Luke share a mat with him for story time. “What about Sunday night? I’m free Sunday night.”
“Okay.” Eagerly, Luke nodded. “Um, do you want to do it at, like, a Joe Black’s, or your house, or my house…?”
“Your house works.”
It wasn’t until you sauntered out of the room, grinning at the study date that was now in place, that Luke felt the effects of not having his inhaler within arm’s reach. You were about to come over to his house. A girl was willingly and excitedly going to be coming over to spend time with him in his house. He wanted to bolt out of the school to find his older brothers and tell them that they were wrong, that he wouldn’t have to use chloroform in order to get a girl to spend time with him. He wanted to run around with his arms waving above his head, but he couldn’t run. His asthma was making it hard to move and he was just sitting down at a table, not at all exerting himself. Luke couldn’t decide if he was excited or terrified for Sunday.
Your finger wasn’t even off the doorbell of the Hemmings house when the door opened up and presented a grinning Liz Hemmings in front of it. With both hands at the bottom of your floral skirt, you sheepishly smiled at the woman you really only knew as a teacher as she stepped aside and welcomed you into her home.
“Luke will be right up. He’s so excited for you to come over, he’s been talking all day. I think he changed his shirt about…”
“Mom!” At the top of the basement stairs finally, Luke groaned at the sound of his mother’s babbling. He turned the corner with an astonishing amount of embarrassment glowing in his eyes. He thought he was home free since both his brothers were out for the night, so they wouldn’t be interrupting you two or mocking him in front of you, but he had overlooked the fact that Liz Hemmings was treating this like it was bigger than Christmas.
“Well, I think that’s my cue to leave you two be…” Chuckling, she turned her attention to her baby and brought her shoulders to the gold studs pierced through her ears, silently apologizing. “If you need anything, I’ll be up here. If Luke doesn’t know an answer, I am the – “
He cut her off again before she could finish, “I know math.” Luke grumbled. He wasn’t confident in himself about anything, but he knew that he could school any of the meatheads that called him ‘Faggot Hemmings’ in a mad minute quiz.
“I kind of set up downstairs.” His eyes led up your bare legs, admiring how they looked under your flimsy summer skirt and the way you had yourself tucked in under a white blouse, hair behind your ears and a smile brightening up your clear complexion. Luke had to keep reminding himself that this wasn’t a date. You just needed his help, but he had still allowed his imagination to run slightly wild while cleaning up the basement for your arrival.
“Bye, Mrs. Hemmings.” Politely, you waved to the woman in the living room as you passed through and followed Luke down the stairs to the wide open basement, freshly vacuumed by Luke.
“Sorry about my Mom, she’s not usually like that.”
“She was nice.” You answered casually, not finding fault. “I brought my assignment.” You pat the closed purse swinging at your side as you passed Luke and sat right down on the couch in front of the coffee table where he had his text book sitting neatly by a pack of sharpened pencils, a protractor, and calculator. “It’s the sequences that I don’t get and it just makes everything else so complicated.”
“We’ll figure it out.” Luke was over by the sink, helping himself to a glass of water as his nerves were beginning to show themselves by pouring sweat through his palms. It had happened earlier when he was alone in his bedroom, helping himself to the thought of you paying him for his tutoring services with your lips wrapped around his length. He couldn’t control the perspiration and he didn’t want you to notice.
“Are you going to sit over there?” Cockeyed, you smiled at him as he took a spot on the edge of the reclining chair, the only furniture further away from you would have been the pool table by the sink. With a pencil in hand, you patted down on the space on the couch beside you and watched Luke as he sluggishly joined you, his knee knocking against yours as soon due to his height. He apologized under his breath while trying to coach himself to just be chill.
You were leaning forward, the eraser on the pencil’s end between your teeth, and your shirt rolling up your back side to reveal the small of your back to him. All the rules of basic algebra escaped Luke’s mind as he just stared, his eyes tracing the straight line of your spine. His mouth was hanging open, but he didn’t realize that he hadn’t answered your question until you snapped your fingers in front of him, staring at his hypnotized eyes over your shoulder.
“Is there a stain on my shirt or something?” You pulled at the material of your blouse and tried to look from the difficult angle.
“No, no, sorry I just zoned out…” He apologized and leaned forward along with you, smacking his hands together between his knees and reading over the notes on your paper. “Here, you see where it says f bracket four…” Luke reached over your hand to take a pencil for himself. He stopped his thought and started to draw a square on a piece of paper over the table, feeling much more comfortable in his zone. The palm sweat ceased and his throat began to feel moisture as he started to talk math with you, explaining what invisible numbers were to you the same way his mother had explained them to him months ago.
“You’re ridiculously smart. It’s amazing.” Swiping hair behind your ear, revealing a plastic pink daisy poked through your ear to Luke, you told him sincerely. “Thank you so much for taking time to help me.” As you wrote down the problem he helped you solve on your own assignment, you absentmindedly said. Luke reached out to touch the small flower on your ear, but you shook your head to move your hair and he stopped himself, perspiration returning insantly, but this time over his forehead. He was surprised that he hadn’t had a massive breakout yet due to the stress of having you so close to him.
“It’s no problem. It’s fun.” Luke chuckled bashfully and leaned into the back of the couch, waiting for you to finish the note.
“Math isn’t fun.” You muttered and put down the pencil, sitting up straight and shaking your head. Your disdain for math ran as deep as your love for skipping class to go on Slurpee runs with your friends did. “Are you wearing cologne?” Sniffing, you asked, as the scent that seemed to own the basement lingered up your nose again.
As pink as your earring, Luke’s cheeks blushed and he shook his head dramatically, insisting that he wasn’t. He might have taken a few spritzes from something he found on Jack’s dresser, the hexagon shaped bottle had a French name that he couldn’t quite decode, but he imagined that girls would like it since it was Parisian.
“Do you guys need a snack?” Liz’s voice sang down from the top of the stairs, her head popping in. Unbeknownst to either of you, she had been watching, delighted, for a couple minutes.
“We’re fine, Mom!” Luke’s voice nearly cracked as he called back, feeling three feet small at the sight of his mother spying on him with a girl. He thought it was already abundantly clear that he was a giant nerd, but she was making it really evident. You curled your lips back to conceal laughter, but Luke shot up and started to walk towards his bedroom, unlit behind the couch. “Do you want to finish in here?” He nodded with his hand on the open door. “You’ve only got a couple problems left.” He nodded over your head towards the papers scattered over the coffee table.
“Sure.” Nodding, you picked up the two pencils you two had been primarily using along with your paper and the calculator before hugging them to your chest and heading into Luke’s room. He mindlessly flicked on the light and revealed a green painted room, posters of Nirvana, Jimi Hendrix, and Steve Miller Band hanging framed around his room, his bed made neatly with plain black sheets and navy pillows. An electric guitar was resting against a small amp in the corner while his desk held the only sign of his math genius, his advanced textbook resting next to a stack of CDs he had just picked up from the second hand store yesterday. “This is not at all what I expected…” Looking around, you mentioned off hand before sitting right down on the foot of his bed, right in the middle. “What?” You had been trying to read the labels on the stack of CDs when you found Luke in the room, standing in the doorway with his hand scratching at the top of his hair, just staring at you like a lamb being led to slaughter. “What?” You laughed, eyes falling to your knees as you adjusted your skirt.
“Sorry, I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable.” Luke wiped at his acne scarred cheek, hiding it with the back of his hand as he forced himself not to devour you with his stare. “I’ve never had a girl in my bed before.” He mumbled into his hand honestly. “Well, in my room for that matter….” Besides his mum, but that wasn’t the same.
“They’re missing out. It’s a cool room.” Kindly, you grinned at him and placed the papers down on the bed before patting down the spot next to you, just as you had earlier on the couch.
He was biting down on his lip when he sat down, hands falling right between his knees, as he kept staring at you. While he was glad he was wearing his contacts, Luke almost wished that he had his glasses over his nose, knowing they might make you slightly clearer and he didn’t want to forget a single detail, not the smile in your eyes, the way the corners of your lips pushed out your cheeks like ping pong balls, or the way your hair fell without obedience.
“Luke, are you sure you’re not wearing cologne?” Again, you asked with a chuckle, eyebrows frowning over your eyes as you firmly pushed your stare up. “I won’t judge.”
“I might have tried some…” He admitted, throwing his hands up over his face. Usually, he just put on deodorant, but this seemed like a special occasion to him. If there was ever a time to put on a fragrance, he thought the Sunday he invited a girl over was it. “I only sprayed it, like, four times.”
“It’s nice, it’s just a lot.” You laughed and nodded. “It’s fine.” It was obvious that he felt bad about his mishap and you didn’t want him to embarrass him any more than his mother already had.
“I wanted to impress you.” Finally, he gave in. He knew it was probably becoming obvious at this point and he was prepared for the blow of your rejection. The right side of his brain knew that you would never settle for him.
“You do impress me.” Luke rolled his eyes, but you shot him a stare that popped an apology out of his mouth at light speed. “You do, but not with the cologne. I mean, you converted invisible numbers for me, you patiently explained transposing to me, like, a hundred times.”
“It was only three times.” Shaking his head, Luke shrugged.
“You’re really smart and it’s really sexy.” You only wished Luke could see himself the way you had just began to. “It’s refreshing, most of the guys at school just want to talk about their dicks and drink Red Bull.”
“Red Bull is really bad for you, you shouldn’t drink that.” The fact rolled itself off of Luke’s tongue.
You turned your naked knees to face him, spreading your hands down and holding them as you presented him with a smile so gentle it was the visual representation of a whisper, promising and polite, meaning absolutely no harm, “If you want to kiss me, Luke, you can…”
The lump in his throat grew two sizes bigger, the Grinch’s heart after Cindy Lou showed him the true meaning of Christmas, and Luke swore he could hear alarms ringing out in his head, ambulances rushing to his heart.
“Um, uh….” His fingers reach up again, twirling through his hair as he tried not to throw up in his mouth. A girl kissed him once, back at band camp, but that was his only experience with it and he didn’t like it due to the fact that her braces were coarse against his bottom lip and she tasted a lot like the reed of her clarinet. “Are you sure?”
Without letting a beat pass, you leaned in, moving your own fingers up to his red cheek, feeling his scarred skin against your baby soft hand and pressed your lips, cinnamon flavored from your signature lip balm, against his, massaging them in a rolling motion over his. Luke’s hand shook, but he slowly brought it to your side while the other took to your knee, your hand revealing it. He opened up your mouth with his own, feigning confidence as he closed his eyes finally, the mental photograph of you kissing him already framed in the hallway of his memory bank. He was trying to be natural, his mind coaching him through the whole thing.
“You’re really good at this.” Stopping for a moment, adjusting yourself to the center of the bed, you revealed quietly. Luke smiled, proud of himself, and followed you, putting both hands on your side and leaning over your body to kiss you again. He couldn’t stop himself now that he had had a taste. He never liked cinnamon before and now he was desperate to run to the store and stock up on candy hearts. One hand nervously left your waist, playing with the bottom of your cotton skirt, unsure of whether or not he was allowed to touch you anywhere that wasn’t clothed. He wanted to, but he had never been in this position with any girl before, especially not one so obviously out of his league. Your ample chest was pushed against his, your hands running up his backside and catching on the fabric of his Henley. It was everything he could do to not get hard.
Luke’s lips made a popping sound as he pulled them off of yours, panting above you with a sticky red face. He looked as if you two had just fucked one another to Mercury. He focused on the bright green shade that he had painted his walls and then reached over your head to his night stand, opening up the drawer. You assumed he was going for a condom and tried to find the right way to break your news to him, but he spoke right over you before you could open your mouth.
“I just need my inhaler, sorry.” He knew it wasn’t cool and that you would probably tell your friends about how he was anything, but smooth, but Luke preferred that story over the one you would have to share if he passed out on top of you due to a lack of oxygen. He slid open the drawer as fast as he could and pulled out his old friend, opening it up and bringing it to his lips quickly. You tried not to watch, eyes falling downward at your body underneath his. This was really not the situation you imagined you would find yourself in when you came over for math help. “Sorry, where were we?” He closed the drawer and left his puffer on top of the nightstand, just in case. Grinning like a little boy who was promised ice cream before supper, he looked down at you, pushing hair from your forehead and pinning his arms down at your sides.
“Luke, I’m not going to have sex with you.” You blurted out, stunning him. Obviously, he had a choir in his head, ready and waiting to break out into song if you allowed him access to your sweet spot, but Luke was just thrilled to have a girl in his arms. He was already chalking this up to a win.
“That’s fine.” He rushed to say. “I don’t want you to do something you don’t want to do. I’m respecting you…and your whole…” He ran his hand above your body from your shoulder to waist. For a boy so smart, he wasn’t coming across very brilliant in this moment, but he wasn’t in his element. He was sweaty and just trying to go with the motion. “I get it, I’m not your type…” He licked at his moment lip, your taste still lingering, as he rolled off of you and onto his back, resting his hands onto his chest. Luke bet it was the inhaler that turned you off, he should have just died and not stopped. He hated his asthma even more than before now.
“We can do other things.” It took a moment, but you finally turned your head to him and grinned, kissing his cheek before taking one of his hands off of his chest with both of yours and bringing it over your breast. Luke watched your boobs with hungry eyes, opening up his palm and laying it over top, slowly squeezing. He closed his eyes as his imagination confirmed that this was better than what he had concocted in his head earlier. He chuckled lightly at the feeling, forgetting to think about dead puppies in order to keep his erection from growing. “Sorry.” He followed your eyes that were set lower and reached down with his other hand to palm it.
“Do you want a blowjob?” Leaning in, kissing his lips, you asked as you wrapped your hand over his on his groin, your words humming against his mouth. It was already painfully obvious that Luke was as much of a virgin as the Jonas Brothers once claimed to be, but you wondered just how far he had gone before.
Swallowing around the nerves in his throat, Luke nodded before watching you sit up onto your knees, folding in a position he had only ever been in in order to pray when he was a little boy in footie pajamas. You stared mindlessly at Jimi Hendrix on his wall as your tied up your hair into a ponytail with the pink elastic that had been around your wrist while Luke just laid flat as a board and tried not to explode in his jeans. The feeling of your fingers on the zipper of his denim had his cock throbbing and he sucked in his gut while shifting his eyes to the left to make sure his inhaler was right where he left it. Luke had imagined what a blowjob would feel like. He heard his brother jack getting head through the wall a few times and, while it was annoying, he felt his body cringe from the envy that wrapped itself around his tense bones. When his parents went to visit his grandparents, he would turn on his laptop and sit up in bed, watching POV porn and lose his breath while his spit covered hand jerked himself off, imagining the peroxide blonde’s fuchsia stained lips pulling on his taut flesh and bringing him to spurt out a hot load down her throat to guzzle. Porn wasn’t really very sexy to Luke, but it was the closest thing he had to help him know what it would be like. You only just had his pants undone and it was already so much sexier than anything he had seen online. He lifted his hips from a pant and hooked his hands onto the waistband of his jeans, pushing them down along with you. He took his shirt off over his head, hands at the front of the collar, and sucked in his stomach out of a lack of self-confidence as he laid back down. His chest was bare, no hair to be seen, and he prayed to God you wouldn’t mention it.
Leaning close, you rubbed your hand over the bulge behind his thin blue boxers, kissing him again. He was grateful for the feeling of your supple lips, his one hand on the side of your breast as he concentrated on how sweet you tasted, smiling into the kiss. You kissed his chin to his neck and then down his stomach, his hand fiddling lightly with your ponytail as he watched you reach his boxers. He was already so close and you hadn’t even taken off his boxers yet.
Outside the cotton fabric, you puckered your lips and kissed where you felt the tip was, Luke squirming at the sight and feeling. Smiling up at him, an angel in his eyes, you reached in as he pushed his underwear off, his rod slapping against his stomach as you let go. The vein that ran in a curve from the base near the mushroom head was bluer than his eyes and you smiled at your mental note before picking up his length with both hands and holding it up like a church candle and tickled the head with the tip of your tongue, Luke’s whimpers bringing you to smile and allow the first few inches in.
“Yeah…that’s…um…shit…” Luke thought he had been a sweaty mess before, but his palms were coated as if he had been eating movie theater popcorn nonstop since you arrived. He tried to keep his eyes shut, concentrating on the sensation of your tepid mouth over his cock, but they fluttered open and he watched the white ceiling above him as if it was going to part in the middle, revealing heaven, because there was no way he was alive right now. His hands reached down and held your head, barely touching it, as you nodded up and down, circling your tongue over his cock in a sloppy motion as you took more only to give up more and do it again.
He didn’t mean to. He was feeling lost in the gratification of your mouth, bucking his hips, he heard you gag slightly, but didn’t put two and two together until you completely raised off of his body and gasped, eyes watering as you caught your breath.
“Oh, shit!” Luke shot up at the waist, his hands in front of him frantically, not sure if he could touch you anymore. “I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to…I really didn’t…I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”
“It’s okay.” You tried to giggle, putting one hand on his shoulder, you felt his skin burning, and laid him back down against his pillow. Luke didn’t want to admit it as only a few minutes had passed, but he was so close. He was fighting himself to hold up, not wanting the best Sunday of his life to end, but as soon as your mouth took his tip again, the bottom of your tongue rubbing around it as if it was a magic lamp that held three wishes, he lost it. He squeaked before wrinkling up his nose, grunting as he tapped your shoulder. His brother’s talked of a ‘courteousy tap’ and he just assumed that he was supposed to give you that warning right when he was about to reach his peak.
“I’m going to cum.” Whispering, just in case Liz was still somewhere spying, his told you and grunted again. He expected you to take your mouth away completely, but you propped you chin up above his balls and finished him off with vigorous pumps, holding his cock like a hose to your open mouth and allowing his load to land on your tongue, his eyes glancing down to see the vision that he knew would never leave his mind.
As soon as Luke sat up, he reached for his puffer again, taking in deep inhales as you stood up off the bed, adjusting your blouse and wiping at the corners of your lips as you swallowed.
“That was awesome.” Luke wiped at his forehead with the back of his hand, still panting as he tried to get over the fact that a girl so much cooler than him had just gone down on him in his bedroom and she was into him because he was good at math. It seemed like a dream.
“Where’s your washroom?” Desperate for mouthwash and a cleanup, you asked timidly.
“Uh, it’s right around the corner. Can I get you something?” He stared at his limp dick, still wet from your lips, and started to pull up his boxers and pants over himself.
“A glass of water would be nice.” As you started to head out of his bedroom, you mumbled and headed for the washroom.
When he heard the bathroom door close, Luke shot up and stared into his reflection on the turned off television in his room. He wanted to see if he looked any different now, but he didn’t. He certainly felt a lot cooler than he had when he woke up in the same bed he had just shot a load on. He reached for his shirt from beside him and put it over his head before going to the sink and pouring himself a glass of water and downing it with a big gulp and then pouring you one. Forever a nerd, he stood outside the bathroom door with the cold glass, waiting for you.
It was both a blessing and a curse. On one hand, Calum spent most of chemistry staring at the back of your head or checking you out when you stood up to sharpen your pencil at the front of the classroom, but on the other hand, the idea of spending alone time with you caused his anxiety to shoot through the roof. While he wanted to thank Mrs. Bettany for partnering the two of you up to be partners for the rest of the year, he kind of wanted to ask for a switch. There was no way he would pop an ill-timed boner with Michael Clifford as his partner. Calum wasn’t sure he would be able to concentrate with you as his partner and he didn’t want to sacrifice his perfect grade score.
Standing outside your front door, he exhaled onto his palm and then tried to sniff it, coming to the conclusion that his breath really didn’t smell like anything at all.
“You’ll be fine, you’ll be fine, you’ll be fine….” Just as his mother had told him, he repeated over and over under his breath before and after ringing your doorbell, barely stopping on time as you answered the door.
“Hey, you’re right on time.” You greeted him quickly, wearing yoga shorts that made his Adam’s apple quiver. “Come in.” You stepped out of the way and held the door open further, sucking the last bit of juice from your orange slice. “We can go to my room. My parents are going to be loud, they’re remodeling the kitchen.” You explained as you locked the door behind him absentmindedly. “Keep on your shoes. I don’t care.” You shrugged, rushing up the stairs and trusting that he would jog behind you without any coaxing. “So, I literally just got home from a run, so if you want to set up, I’m just going change really fast.” You explained, clapping your hands together as Calum nervously took to your bed, setting his bag down in front him and unzipping it to pull out his binder and organized notes.
“Yeah, that’s fine.” He nodded, looking into his bag instead of directly at you. It was safer this way, he assumed. He loved science, but he could control himself around it. He had popped a couple boners by just watching you write notes from the board in class. He was in your bedroom now and it was pure torture on the poor boy.
You sauntered into the adjoined washroom, accidentally leaving the door partially opened as you bent down to find something clean on the floor.
“I made some notes for you,” Calum cleared his throat and shouted as he opened up his textbook, finding page 55 and the assigned questions. “And flashcards. They’re just to make the periodic table a little more accessible.” He explained, pulling out a pack of Post-Its before putting his bag down on the ground by one of his feet as the other was bent over your bedspread.
“Cool. Thanks.” You called back, standing up and peeling off your top in the mirror. “Is science your best subject?” Curiously, you asked. Everyone at school had been telling you how lucky you were to have him as your lab partner, calling him a guaranteed A. You just liked that he was nice to look at and relatively quiet.
“I’m pretty good at it, yeah.” He wasn’t modest when he was with his friends, but Calum didn’t feel very adequate around you so he played it cool. He looked around your room, glancing at your dresser, searching for a pen as his had seemed to run out of ink. Without thinking, he pulled open the top drawer of your night stand, choking on his own spit as he spotted a rubber pink vibrator staring back at him and a pack of condoms, not at all a ballpoint pen. He looked up finally and realized the door wasn’t completely closed, revealing your bare ass as you were wiggling a tight pair of lacy boy shorts up your freshly lotioned legs. “You’ll be fine, you’ll be fine, you’ll be fine….” He muttered again. He had dreamed of what your backside looked like outside of the school uniform, knowing that it wouldn’t disappoint. He tugged on the collar of his shirt, his throat burning at the pure image of perfection mere steps away. “You’ll be fine…”
“Did you say something?” Turning, you looked to your side and saw Calum on the bed, looking at you. His cheeks burned red as your eyes locked and you shoved the bathroom door open, greeting him in only a black tank top and your black lacies. “Enjoy the show?” Rudely, you asked him with a hand raised to hold your hip.
Calum was staring at his lap, humiliated already, when you realized your nightstand drawer was open. You thought that, maybe you should have been as embarrassed as he appeared, but you weren’t. It barely fazed you at all.
“Well, it’s not far that you’ve seen my ass and I’ve not seen yours.” Confidently, you stated, standing right before him with your bare feet hard into the ground.
“What?” Calum’s head rose, his eyes large as he gazed at you like you were speaking in foreign tongue.
“Take it off. Show me what you’re working with.” You rephrased yourself, insisting that he do for you what you had for him. You walked around the bed and shut your nightstand drawer, turning to see that Calum was just beginning to stand up. He wasn’t at all sure if you were serious or not, so you sat at your computer chair, crossing your legs at the knees and waited.
Shy, he took his time taking off his khakis and revealed Toucan boxers beneath, thinking they were the worst pair he could have chosen to wear before turning around and revealing apple of a bum to you. Rubbing your lips together, you gave him a nice slow clap.
“It’s nice.” You chuckled behind him as he pulled them up and started to buckle up his jeans.
“I wasn’t watching, I swear.” Calum’s face was twisted, he looked so perplexed as he sat back down. “I can go if you want. I’ll just do the assignment and you can copy.” Generally, he was against that, but he felt so terrible for spying on you, even if it had been an accidental stare. He was a nerd, but he was still only human.
“Calum, calm down.” You held up a palm. “It’s okay. It’s just a butt, we both have them….” You shrugged. “In fact, you can look at mine again if you want.”
“What?” For someone so smart, he really didn’t follow your simple train of thought. He had his hands on the open pages of the textbook, squinting at you for more answers.
“I’m always really horny after a jog.” You winked, parting your legs on the chair and reaching out your hand. “Do you want to open up that drawer again?” Pouting you asked, “Or do you want to do it yourself?”
Calum was generally the first to raise his hand in class. He knew the answer to every question Mrs. Bettany threw into the classroom. He was a whiz kid and it almost came naturally to him except for the fact that he did like to study. However, right now, he hadn’t a clue what the answer was. He wanted to ask you for a lifeline and then phone a friend, ask Luke what he would do in this situation, but that kid was a bigger virgin than he was.
“I think we should just study…” Nervously, he mumbled inside his throat, licking his finger and flipping the textbook to the next page. “These questions are actually really extensive.” He was growing hard, but he hoped that he could distract you with the chemistry. “Actually, they’re a good chance to use the flash cards…” He reached forward, but you had walked over and sat right in front of him, his hand coming down on your smooth thigh, causing him to gulp for his life. “I don’t know what to do.” He admitted to you, eyes like a new puppy who had accidentally just peed on the rug.
“You don’t have to…” You whispered back, patting his hand that was just resting on your leg.
“I want to…but I don’t know…”
“Why don’t you open up the drawer and watch me?” Smiling, you held out your hand and prompted him to pick up the pink vibrator out from where he found it, handing it to you and then wiping his hand on top of your body.
Closing your eyes, you laid down over the end of your bed, parting your legs as you moved your black panties down to your knees and turning the vibrator on to the third dial, not too slow, not too fast. The buzzing noise made you as wet as the bulge poking through Calum’s jeans despite his arm’s effort to hide it. You sucked on the tip of the vibrator swirling it around like a wet maraschino cherry, and then sliding it down and rubbing it up against your swollen nub, purring along with the noise it made.
You pushed your shoulders into the bed and raised your ass, giving yourself a little room to start putting the toy into you, moving it in a semi-circle and then going the other way, moaning as you played with yourself. As you pushed the toy into you shallowly, your other hand reached for Calum’s as you opened your eyes on him and blew him a kiss. You wrapped his hand around the edge of the toy and fucked yourself with it along with him.
Calum’s cock was at full mass, stuck under his jeans, as he purred along with you, watching your stomach rise and fall and your pussy ache as it accepted more and more of your toy. This was hotter than any scene he had ever watched on his laptop in bed before.
“It feels so good, baby.” You moaned, closing your eyes and rocking your head back. “Do you wish it was you?” You opened up your eyes and stared down at him, unwrapping your hand from under his and around the toy, bringing it up your stomach to squeeze your chest. You caught the discreet nod Calum gave, rubbing at himself through his jeans.
“Why don’t you give me a little bit? We’re supposed to get to know each other, right?” Mrs. Bettany had said it was of utmost important you become close with your lab partner after all. “I’ll make you feel as good as you’re making me feel.” You moaned out a promise.
Calum swallowed and nodded, reaching down to take off his pants and reveal himself. He had already given you a grand view of his rock hard ass, he figured this wouldn’t be much different. However, it felt far more terrifying. You pulled your vibrator out and licked off your taste, watching while propped up on your elbows as he removed his pants and showed his world to you.
“That’s going to feel good.” Sitting up, you assured him and gave his cock a little tug. There was precum glistening on the tip, so you leaned close and gave it a loving kiss, turning onto your stomach and pulling your cheeks apart for him as you swung your ass back and forth slowly. In front of you, you turned off the vibrator and let it roll off the bed.
“From behind!?” He sounded like a kid at Christmas. He couldn’t believe his luck. One hand on his cock, massaging it, he let his other hand explore the other, shocked a girl even wanted his hands on her. He kneaded your left butt cheek like it was floured bread dough and watched it bounce when he let go.
“Calum, come on…I’m soaking for you….”
He reached down between your legs, his middle finger running down your silt. It sounded as wet as it felt as he slid his finger over.
“Holy shit, I made you this wet?!” He couldn’t believe it.
“Nobody else is in here.” Looking over your shoulder, you reminded him, your panties falling to your ankles as he spread your cheeks himself.
Calum lined his cock up to your shining slit, rubbing the tip against it, “Is this right? This is good?”
“Yeah, baby, you’re doing good.” You coached happily before he stuffed himself in, no technique and sending you forward on your stomach with a grunt. You pushed yourself back up on your hands and buried your face into the sheets as he held your hips and began to grind slowly, as if someone was playing an R Kelly song in the other, as he moved in and out of you, finding a pace that worked. You felt as delicious as you looked and sounded, a trifecta of pleasure erupting from you and causing him to shake as he pumped into your body, holding your hips like reigns.
“Wanna give me a little spanking?” You tried as you felt him finding ground. Calum didn’t answer though. A moment passed, but suddenly you felt a hard swat and you moaned along with him as your ass vibrated.
He was biting down on his tongue, scrunching up his nose as he inhaled burning breaths through his nostrils. Calum wanted to hold out, but he couldn’t. It was just four minutes, but he couldn’t keep himself contained a she was way too pent up.
“[Y/N]….” He moaned out, eyes fluttering open just to close again. “I got to…I got to pull out….” He fumbled, removing himself without any time to spare and letting himself leak all over your ass cheek, dripping a hot handful over where his hand had smacked. He was panting but he ran across the room into your washroom and grabbed a generous supply of toilet paper for yourself and him, wiping off his sticky cock and then cleaning up the mess he made on your bum.
Turning around, you reached up with both hands and brought his face down for a kiss, “Some virgin. How about I go downstairs and get you something to drink and we do it all over again? No toy?” You waited until he excitedly nodded, way too pumped at the idea of having you to himself again.
With a slow clap, you pulled the attention of the two leather jacket clad guys from the grade above you off of the kid they were currently tormenting. You didn’t know who it was, but you passed this sort of scene every day on the way back to class after lunch with your best friend from the deli across the street. It had finally grown old and you were willing to speak up. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to stand up for those who had become prey, but you knew the tormentors. They were best friends with your ex and you had been happy to have nothing to do with him for the last little while, but in your heart, it always bothered you that you just walked by.
“You guys are such assholes. You literally aren’t smart enough to do anything besides bother other people.” Grumbling, you slapped your arms against your side and rolled your eyes. “Shouldn’t you be off sucking Owen’s dick anyway?” You snarled before bending down onto your knees and starting to pick up the three thin comic books that were on the ground, scattered somewhat.
The bell rang before either idiot could think of something witty to snap at you, so they merely knocked you over before you could stand up. Your butt hit the pavement hard, but you kept the comic books clutched to your stomach.
“Stupid slut.” One of them mumbled as they shuffled away, dragging their worn out army boots.
“You didn’t have to do that.” The guys were just at the school doors when the bullied spoke up, picking up his backpack that they had nearly thrown into the dumpster behind him before you showed up. “Are you alright?” He walked over and offered you one hand, the other putting his backpack back on.
“It’s fine. They can’t hurt me.” Shaking your head, you rolled your eyes and graciously took his hand and used it as leverage to stand back up. “I saved your books though.” You offered them back to him, peeling them off your chest and finally taking note that they were from the Spiderman collection. “Oh, I know these. A kid I babysit likes these.” You studied the art a moment and then gave them back to him. “Hopefully, they aren’t ruined.”
“They’re fine. They weren’t in the best condition anyway.” The boy didn’t bother to examine them, he held his backpack off of his shoulder and right in front of them to put them away. It took you a second to remember, but as you studied his brown hair, you remembered that he had a locker next to your best friend which meant his last name started with a ‘C’ and after putting two and two together, you remembered who he was: Michael Clifford.
“Hey, do you want to come my party tonight?” Walking next to him towards the school entrance, you tried. “I don’t know if you’ve heard, I’m having a bunch of people over.” A lot of kids had been talking about in the hallway, but since you and Michael didn’t roll with the same crowd, you assumed it was possible that he didn’t know.
“Are you just asking because you feel sorry for me?” He checked, opening up the painted green door for you, allowing you access into the school before him.
“No.” Sweetly, you fibbed. “It just dawned on me that we’ve been in school together for, like, three years and you’ve never come to a single party on my street. You live on Colchester. That’s so close.”
“You know where I live?” Michael was completely baffled.
“I’ve seen you bike home. What do you say? Come over any time after ten.”
“I don’t know.” Michael shook his head, scratching at his head of hair as he began to head down the hallway, the opposite direction than you needed to go.
“Honestly, if you want those guys to stop bugging you, you should come because you’ll meet my friends and they’ll help you out.” Already, you were thinking of a few guys in your English class, good guys, that you could talk to about, maybe, looking out for Michael and befriending him. He was a nerd, you remembered your friend with the locker beside him, saying that he was always reading comic books and cleaning the lens of his thick framed glasses (which he wasn’t wearing at the moment), but you felt over the stereotypes. Since dating Owen and breaking up with him, you realized that being cool was as overrated as you originally thought it was. It wasn’t fair that being himself made him fair game for taunts and cruel remarks. “Please,” From ear to ear, you spread your lips and showed off all your teeth cutely. “I’ll be there and I’ll be making popcorn balls and they’re really delicious.”
“I might.” As the second bell chimed, Michael barely promised and started to rush down to his next class. He was never late. He was the King of Econ 303 and he wasn’t going to sacrifice that title just because one of the prettiest girls in school was offering him an invite to her house party. Michael always told his friends he thought house parties were stupid, but now, as he contemplated your invite, he wondered if that was just because he had never been to one.
Music was actually shaking your house when Michael turned onto your street. He could hear the bass line of the R & B remix from the other end of your block and it only caused his nerves to grow. What if this was actually just a set up? You did used to date Own Rightmeyer after all and he was probably one the bigger douchebags in the entire school. What if you just were setting him up for public humiliation? He was at your door and ready to leave when it opened up, a drunk girl collapsing out of it with a plastic blue cup falling from her hand. A guy in a Member’s Only jacket, black and gold, cursed at her backside before stepping out to help her up onto her feet which proved to be a most useless idea. Michael debated leaving, but you spotted him from the bottom of your stairs, a bowl of chips in one hand.
“Hey!” You lit up as you greeted him, just as you would any of your best friends, and stepped over the mess of shoes at your front steps on your way over. “I am so glad you decided to show!” You shouted while standing up on the tips of your toes to wrap one arm around his neck. Kindly, Michael bent slightly at his knees to be closer to your level. In his mind, he wished he had invited Luke or Ashton to come with him, but he hadn’t actually known he was going to come until a few minutes ago and, even then, he was telling himself he would just stop in for a couple minutes. Michael hadn’t counted on you smelling like Hawaii and looking perfect in a dress that was so tight on your body it looked as if it could have been painted on with jade ink. “Come meet some people.” The bowl held up in one hand, you took Michael’s hand in the other and led him through the hallway that was jam-packed with people, excusing the two of you the whole way as Michael kept his nervous eyes on the back of your head. He worried that he would evoke a wrath if he caught the wrong person’s eyes. “Damnit, they were just here.” As you entered the kitchen, you let go of Michael’s hand and stared at the island, surrounded by different people and crowded with different liquor bottles and party cups. “Well, we’ll find them. I want you to meet Joey. He is obsessed with Spiderman.” The movies, not the comic books, but you imagined they could still find common ground. You put down the bowl of chips on the ledge that separated your living room and kitchen and turned to face Michael completely, smiling up at him to make him feel welcomed.
“Why are you being so nice to me?” Over the music, he asked, leaning in and shouting into your ear so you could hear him.
You pouted for a moment, contemplating, before simply shouting back on your tip toes, “I’m just a nice person! Should I not be nice to you? Are you a bad person?” Rhetorically, you asked.
Michael smiled, thanking you without a word, when he saw the sight of three familiar yellow stares, glowing anger that only complimented the scent of hash and nicotine that entered the room when the three guys entered behind you through the back door. Michael stood up straight and took a step back out of reflex. Reading his eyes, you checked behind you to see Owen with his two best friends and fisted your fingers through your locks, annoyed.
“Owen, I didn’t invite you.” Quickly, you argued, looking up at the boy who was impossibly tall. It had been one of the many things that initially attracted you to him. “You know, you’re not welcome here.” Your father had made that clear to him the last time he showed up, throwing rocks at your window and shouting outside on the back lawn for you to take him back. Of course, your father wasn’t here now to kick him out.
“I just want to talk, baby.” He leaned into you, stroking a hand through your hair, but you jumped back to keep him at an arm’s length from you. “What’s that?” He laughed. “I can’t touch you now?”
“We’re done. We broke up two months ago.” You argued, crossing your arms in front of your chest and hoping they could act like a shield against the boy you regretted ever taking up with. “I want you to leave.” You tried to stand up for yourself.
Nervously, Michael watched from behind, leaning against the ledge and trying not to make eye contact with any of the trio. He stared into the chip bowl, counting the ridges of the rippled potato chips. It crossed his mind that, maybe, now was a good time to go.
“Not until we talk.” Owen’s arm reached forward without any thought, snatching your wrist the same way he took anything he saw and wanted. He pulled on you like you could be so easily moved, but you kept stepping back, fighting with his force. “[Y/N], don’t cause a scene. I hate when you do that.” Through tightly grit teeth, he warned you.
“She doesn’t want to talk to you.” Michael stood up straight, taking a page from your book, and trying to help you as you had him earlier in the day by the dumpster. He didn’t feel as tough as you were though, his hands hidden under the sleeves of his green flannel shirt out of insecurity.
“Who the fuck are you?!” Owen hissed, his buddy to his left laughing while the other sized Michael up again.
“You’re the kid with the comics.” One remembered, but Michael kept his stare narrowed on Owen’s hand over your wrist. He didn’t like that the girl who had been so remarkably kind to him was being treated like a dollar store ragdoll.
“She doesn’t want to talk to you.” He said again, stepping forward so he was right behind you, sucking in so his jaw was tight as he stared into Owen’s pissed off gleam.
“Do you want to talk to me…cause we’re about to fucking talk?” Owen moved forward quickly, lunging at Michael and pushing you in the process, but Michael’s adrenaline took over, all the Kung Fu films he watched in his basement alone on Friday nights paid off as he sucker punched your ex cold in the jaw, sending him back.
“Holy shit.” You whispered, watching blood come out of Owen’s nose as he fell into the ledge.
“Holy shit.” Michael couldn’t believe what he had done, but more importantly, he couldn’t believe that he had done it and not wet himself.
Luckily, your best friend Joey had heard the commotion and made it through the living room to take over what Michael started, giving you time to take Michael’s sweaty hand, fresh from the punch, and lead him upstairs.
“I didn’t know you were like that.” You called over the sound of one of your favorite songs, rushing up the stairs. “Do you need ice? Is your hand okay?”
“Um…yeah, no, I’m fine.” Michael managed to say, still trying to figure out what had just happened in your kitchen.
Pushing through bodies, you made it to your bedroom door and pushed it open, glad that people had abided by your rules to stay out of that room. Mentally, you just hoped they were also following your rule to stay out of your parent’s suite as well because they hadn’t last time and it took you ages to wash the stains from the carpet.
“Just stay in here until I know they’re gone, okay?” You ushered Michael in and pressed your back against the brown door, holding it closed while watching Michael look around your bedroom, massaging his hand. “Are you sure you don’t want some ice? That was quite the strike.”
“No, I’m fine.” He mumbled, looking over your array of stuffed animals in the middle of the bed. “You got a favorite?” Sitting down beside them, he asked while staring down at all their plush and fuzzy heads.
“I think the monkey, but I’ve never been able to decide.” Laughing, you joined him on the other side of the stuffed animal group, plucking the purple monkey out from the middle and hugging it to your chest. “I won him at the fair a few years ago. That game where you toss the rings over the bottles,” You explained with Michael’s eyes searching into yours. It was astonishing to you to see that he was actually listening and it made you wish the story was better than it actually was. “No one thought I’d win it, but I did.”
“Does he have a name?” Michael asked, squeezing the monkey’s tiny head with one hand over and over.
“No. Do you want to name him…or her?”
“Ummm….” He let go the stuffed animal and leaned back to really take a look at it’s squished in face held by your hand. “Baxter. He looks like a Baxter.”
“I like Bax – “ You couldn’t finish your thought. All the stuffed animals were pushed up against your bare leg and you felt dry lips pressing into yours. You were so caught off guard that you just kept your eyes peeled open, staring at Michael’s unbelievably long brown lashes as he held a kiss on your lips. When he pulled away, you laughed because his mouth was stained pink from your lips. “I’m not laughing at you.” You swore and reached up with your thumb to wipe away the color, feeling a little moisture on his lips now that he had rubbed them against yours. “Why did you kiss me?”
Scratching at the back of his head, Michael wondered that himself.
“I was just seizing an opportunity, I guess.” Unsure of himself, he made up on the spot. Girls so rarely were kind to him that he didn’t want to let this moment slide. He didn’t know the next time he would be so close to a girl as pretty as you and as sweet. “Owen’s, like, unbelievably lucky.”
“Why? You just punched him in the nose.” You laughed, holding your fingers to your lip and checking if you could still feel Michael there. It hadn’t been a bad kiss, you just hadn’t been expecting it at all.
“Because he had you…and you’re, like, the nicest person at our school.” Michael had been pushed into enough lockers to know a nice person without having to spend too much time with them.
You took a moment to yourself, putting the monkey down on your lap and staring at it’s head as you fiddled with both of his lanky violet arms, “Actually, he never had me.” You admitted, looking up in the darkness of your unlit room to see Michael still watching you, listening. “That’s why we broke up. He wanted to have sex and I didn’t feel ready for some reason,” You felt ready, but never want to be in that position which you couldn’t understand as he was your boyfriend. “So, he had sex with Selina Vernon and I dumped him…” You admitted. This time Michael laughed and left you feeling confused just as you had him.
“Good.” Michael nodded, sounding just like your father had when you told him about your decision. “He’s already a tool, but that just proves it. If you were mine and you never wanted to even, like, kiss, I’d be okay with it. What kind of idiot cheats on you? You’re perfect.” Without thinking, he babbled. “I’ve always thought you were perfect.” You might not have noticed him staring at you, but every time you joined your friend at her locker, Michael would watch you from the corner of his eye, thinking of how you would make the perfect super heroine in a comic book.
“Do you want to kiss me again?” Quietly, you whispered, putting the monkey back into the pile of his animal friends and then pushing it aside completely. Crawling over them, you leaned in and kissed Michael this time. At first, just his cheek, his eyes closing immediately, and then you kissed his lips, opening up his mouth and leading your tongue in to explore while drawing the letters that spelled your name inside. Your hand slid over his jeans, but he hadn’t touched you. He was scared of doing it the wrong way, turning you off, mishandling your body somehow. Your knees were over some of stuffed animals, squishing them, and your hand found it’s way to Michael’s groin by accident, feeling like a boulder and it’s hardness surprised you. You pulled your lips off of his and stared out of surprise for a moment.
“Sorry.” He peeped, looking down as you removed your hand.
“No, don’t….No one’s ever got hard just ‘cause we’re kissing though.”
“Sorry.” Embarrassed, Michael said again, standing up and pacing backwards. He debated leaving, but worried that Owen and his two sidekicks might be waiting for him, sniffing him out like hound dogs who hadn’t eaten in days.
“Don’t be sorry.” You flashed him the smile that he decided twenty minutes ago that he was in love with and licked his lips, trying not to concentrate on it, thinking that if he stopped looking at you, his erection might subside. You crawled over the bed and sat on your knees, asking him to come closer to you with a curl of his finger. Once he was just a step away, you used both hands, index fingers and thumbs to unzip his skin tight black jeans pushing them down over the mound.
“Are you sure?” Glancing down, he checked as you began to peel off his boxier-briefs, triangles decorating them like black misshaped polka dots.
“I already like you more than I ever did Owen.” Smiling, you put one finger to your lips as if to suggest he stay quiet and pushed his underwear down completely, revealing the largest cock you had ever seen outside of in a porn movie. “Holy Batman.” You muttered, picking it up and measuring it against your forearm. “Is it thicker?” Seriously, you asked, only to have Michael shake his head ‘no’ with a laugh as soft as a lamb’s back. “I’ve never seen anything so big.” You revealed causing Michael to puff out his chest with pride. He wished he was a cocky shit and could run downstairs to mock Owen, tell him that he had a much bigger dick than he did, but he wasn’t planning to leave this bedroom anytime soon. Your lips parted and you moved your hair over to one side, letting it run wild down your shoulder as you slurped back the first inch of his cock loudly, having to stretch out your mouth as you moved lower than just the tip. Making him wet, you held your mouth open on the first two inches while gripping his base, adjusting to his size in you and listening to a breath warble out of his mouth as his head fell back behind him. Michael’s eyes were closed and he was still seeing stars. It felt way better than his own lubricated hand in the bathroom with a stolen Penthouse magazine. You let his tip poke through your cheek as you angled yourself to take more, moving around his cock and soaking it with your saliva. It seemed the messier you were, the more Michael moaned, the noises were too cute to not keep trying to evoke. You slid right off of the five inches you were able to fit and panted to bring air into your lungs before licking it from base to tip and back down again. He opened up his eyes and looked at the top of your head again, watching the visual that nearly made him spray your whole face with his sticky spunk right then and there.
“Do that again.” He muttered, his voice hoarse, as you looked up at him with blinking baby doll eyes and licked his cock all the way down and then around on the way up, treating him like a swirl cone on a sunny July day.
With your mouth back on his cock, you tickled his balls with one hand, bringing them to your chin and squeezing them as you pushed down, gagging as you tried to take more. Michael’s hands were without thought as he closed his eyes again, groaning out like Frankenstein as you bobbed on his rod, up and down. He bucked his hips and used his hand to give your head a little push, your eyes instantly watering.
“It’s okay if you can’t take it all.” Quickly, he removed his head and stood still again, feeling terrible for losing control even if just for a brief moment.
Moaning on his dick, you shook your head with it still in your mouth, “I really wanna try.” You popped him out to saw, blowing him a kiss from your knees and then sucking on just the tip, torturing his nerve endings.
“I’m going to fucking blow, I can’t hold it….” He shook his head, thinking he should apologize, but his head fell back between his shoulders and he pulled out of your mouth to pump himself, his cock coated in your saliva.
“Wait, wait, wait…” Hurrying, you moved your hair off of your side and behind your back, revealing your bare shoulders again and then pulling down your strapless dress, just under your breasts. The visual bringing Michael to his breaking point. He had been assuming he would cum in his hand or in your mouth, but your bouncy girls were deliciously waiting for him. “Paint me.” You managed to whisper as he shook his cock out over them, his load dripping zigzags over your nipples.
“That was amazing.” He panted, his dick going limp in his wet hand as he took a hundred mental snapshots of you in his mind, covered in his cream. “I don’t know how I’m going to go back to school tomorrow and pretend like this didn’t happen….” He knew you were too cool for him. You couldn’t be seen roaming the halls with him by your side.
“Why not? Maybe, you could stay the night and we could play more.” Biting down on your bottom lip, you suggested with a giggle. Your finger swiped at a line of his cum and you brought it to your painted pink lips, sucking on it and moaning at the salty taste, just to drive him mad.
The best part of every school day was when it was over, when you could go home, remove your uniform, and climb on top of your bed to dance in your underwear. The rain was pouring outside and you mentally wished you had listened to your father when he told you to pack an umbrella when you left for school in the morning. You were waiting to head outside, the broad shoulders of the school’s running back, Bryce O’Riley, blocking your path as he stood around laughing, refusing to allow Ashton Irwin back inside. The scrawny blond with his straight bangs in his face was soaked from the rain as the steroid addled seniors, his grade, laughed and tormented him. While you loved the end of the day, it was worse for him than being in an actual classroom. When teachers were around, no one dared to bother him, but he was a marked target as soon as the final bell rang.
“Wow. Can you guys be bigger tools?” Ducking underneath the arm of the running back, you excused yourself outside into the rain and rolled your eyes about the meatheads towards Ashton. When you looked closely, you realized just how close to frustrated tears he was. While you didn’t want to stand out in the rain, you turned around to give them a piece of your mind. He was easy prey, but you knew they wouldn’t talk back to you. You weren’t on their hit list. Two of them wanted to get with your older cousin, so they couldn’t be cruel to you even if they wanted to.
“Oh, look, Irwin has a girlfriend.” The tallest snickered, nodding at you as you stood in front of Ashton with your feet firmly shoulder width apart. “You like this fucking nerd?” He asked, his eyes running over you slowly, the rain rushing faster to the ground than his stare did. He licked his lips once he was on your hips, approving of the way your body curved like the bow belonging to an arrow.
“I do. I do like this fucking nerd,” Grumbling, you turned around to tend to Ashton, ready to offer him a ride home, but Bryce’s voice, as thick as phlegm, called you back.
“You’re not with him. Let the bitch fight his own battles.” The running back moved by you, happy to be out in the rain if it meant he could harass Ashton, whose eyes were on the ground. He was biting down on the inside of his cheeks, hands curled into tight fists at his side. “What? Your Pokeballs aren’t here to help you.” He actually spat at Ashton, missing his face and letting the ball of white salvia land on Ashton’s shoulder.
Only then it dawned on you why these guys were on Ashton’s case. He, along with a few other kids in school, liked some card game. Rolling your eyes as Ashton moved forward on one foot, you came between the fighting boys.
“It’s Magic, the Gathering, you idiot.” You shoved your hand into the football player’s stomach before your other palm was against Ashton’s angry lips, kissing him as you played along with the façade that he was your boyfriend.
Ashton almost tripped over his moving foot before his chest was against yours and his fist uncurled, sprawling the pads of his fingers gently against the sides of your stomach. Surprisingly, he wasn’t the worst kiss of your life. He had technique in the way he sucked your bottom lip inward, the lashes of his eyes fluttering against yours like the wings of a monarch butterfly. You could hear the three boys leaving, repulsed, but their words were just static along with the rain that fell over you and Ashton Irwin. As soon as the door closed behind you, you parted ways and swallowed, chuckling as you glanced down at your shoes.
“You didn’t have to do that.” He mumbled at his shoes, reaching down onto the wet cement to pick up his soaking bag and then throwing a single strap over one of his shoulders.
“I just wanted them to leave you alone.” You wrapped your hands over the strap of your leather purse that hung off of your shoulder and checked that he was alright. He still seemed upset, but it could have just been the fact that he was freezing under the afternoon rain. You were both damp now, hair stuck to your face, and uniforms worn like wrinkly extra layers of skin. “Do you want a ride home?” As you stepped around him into the mostly bleak parking lot, most everyone gone as the bell rang ten minutes ago, you asked, turning to see Ashton reluctantly nod ‘yes’. He had learned to be defensive at a young age, being picked on from the time he started middle school, but since you two had just kissed as if you were more than just two people who went to the same private school, he felt like he could safely try to trust you. If you were going to use him for an easy joke, he knew he would have detected it by now.
Taking your keys out of your purse, you picked up the pace to your car and slid in behind the wheel with a loud gasp, glad to be out of the rain as it threatened to really start to pour. Ashton was slower, hesitant and unsure of himself as he pulled open the passenger door and slid in. He tossed his backpack down between his feet with a clunk and brought his seatbelt over his chest, checking on you as you started up the engine.
“Where do you live?” You asked as the radio came on, an overplayed pop song taking over the car before you reached for the volume dial to turn it down some.
“Uhh….” Ashton was staring at your chest, but you were too busy checking in your rear view mirror as you began to back out of your prime parking spot, somehow managing to barely make it to school on time and still grab a spot close to the back door. “Foster Road.” He mumbled before reaching down between his legs and unzipping his backpack, moving his books around to pull out his crumpled up maroon cardigan that he was supposed to wear for assembly, but never did. “Here.” As you stopped at the first red sign, he offered it to you. Your eyebrows knit together and you looked down at yourself, realizing that your white uniform blouse was soaked to a translucent point, your beige bra showing as well as your nipples, hard from the rainfall. Quickly, you snatched his knit and rushed into it with your foot still on the brake.
“Thank you.” Laughing nervously, you said, pulling your arms through it. Most guys would have just stared, maybe even made a joke at the expensive of you and your breasts, but Ashton had been a gentleman.
He reached down to his bag again, opening up the front pocket and taking out his deck of magic cards. Over his lap, he removed the elastic band from them and started to shuffle them thoroughly. It calmed him down when he was as rattled as he was earlier. It wasn’t as if he didn’t know the stereotype that came along with his playing cards, but he couldn’t help what he enjoyed. He liked playing drums, kicking around the ball outside on sunny days, and watching girls bounce on trampolines just like any other guy, but his scrawny physique and other past times had put him in the back corner table of the lunch room with the rest of the card playing kids.
“I don’t understand the game.” Above the radio, you spoke as you sat in traffic for a moment. “Is it easy? Can anyone play?” In all honesty, you knew nothing about the cards at all, but you were trying to drum up some conversation.
“It’s kind of intricate…” Moving his shoulders up and down, Ashton slanted his lips together as he poorly summed it up. He worried about making himself seem even nerdier than he already was if he started to tell you about it. “It requires a lot of strategy.” That was why he liked it, he felt like he earned something when he won. He had to use his brain with every move. Compared to a lot of the kids at school, Ashton’s deck was supreme and he was quite proud of it as it took a lot of serious thought to get it at the level he now had it at.
“Ah, well, don’t let those guys get to you….they’re just idiots.” The way Ashton’s fists had been shaking in contrast to the sadness almost glowing in his eyes was fresh in your mind. You also were having a hard time keeping your thoughts away from the kiss, wondering how he had known how to move his lips like that over yours.
“Easy for you to say.” Thoughtlessly, he scoffed.
“What is that supposed to mean?” You glanced at him, turning onto a street that you knew would lead you away from traffic and closer to Foster Road.
“You’re a hot girl. You’ll never have to deal with them.”
“Well, that’s not true.” You quipped while watching the street signs, careful not to pass the one marked Foster Road.
“What? Do they bug you?” It surprised you to hear Ashton sound so concerned. His defenses dropped and he nearly let his cards fall with them as his caramel eyes studied your pre-occupied face. He had trouble standing up for himself earlier, but he sounded as if he would have gone back to the school right then and there if you said that you were being bullied as he was.
“No, I meant, that’s not true, I’m not hot.” You corrected, easily turning onto Foster Road. “What house is yours?”
Ashton was still staring at your profile, his own face dumbfounded at the claim you made as if it was a known fact.
“33.” He answered without having to think, which was a good thing since his mind was currently bent over how a girl as beautiful as you were, even now wet from the rain, could think she wasn’t a total ten.
Speeding up, you pulled up loudly out front of a cute bungalow, rain slipping off of the rain gutters and crushing the flowers in the small garden outside. You moved the gear to park, hands unwrapping from the top of the wheel and starting to peel the cardigan off of your arms, still sticky from the gray weather.
“Thanks for the ride. It beats the bus.” Sometimes, on days where he really needed to cool down, Ashton walked to his house. He was saving up for a car, but unfortunately, working as a stock boy at the closest grocery store didn’t exactly keep his bank account loaded.
“Not a problem. You’re not out of the way.” If you managed to beat the reds, you imagined you would be at home and dancing in your underwear in a matter of minutes. “Here.” You handed him the cardigan, glancing down to see that your bra was invisible once again as your arm was outstretched from him.
“Thanks.” Out of habit, he said and stuffed it into his bag along with his cards, tied together. “You were wrong by the way. You’re very good looking.” Ashton pushed open the door, ready to return to the rain after being warmed up for a few minutes inside your car. “Trust me, I’m a loser, but I know hot girls.” He nodded, he had spent enough time fantasizing about being with a girl like you to know what you were.
Ashton’s feet were on the ground, just missing a growing puddle, as he pulled his backpack behind him.
“Hey,” Before he could stand up, you began, looking up from the middle of the steering wheel and watching his back muscles ripple under his damp uniform. “Aren’t you going to invite me in? Teach me the card game?” When Ashton’s head, his flat hair like straw over his eyes, you saw him smile for the first time since the school bell rang and, in return, you grinned right back.
The twenty seconds it took to run from your car and under the cover of Ashton’s roof as he fiddled with his house keys had caused the two of you to be drenched in the rain again, laughing as you both shook your limbs upon entering his house, kicking off your black school shoes as he called out to see his mother or either little siblings were home.
“If you want to just chill, I’ll go grab you a change of clothes.” He gave the house ten seconds of silence, allowing anyone to answer him if they were home, before turning to you with your arms crossing over your see-through blouse and then darting up the stairs in his wet socks. You allowed yourself to walk further into the modest home, stopping in front of a trunk in the front hallway and grinning individually at every picture of Ashton there was. It was clear that in his house, he was absolutely adored by his mother as well as brother and sister. You picked up the last one in the row, a family portrait of the three children, Ashton smiling proudly in the center with a pair of drumsticks crossed in one hand in front of his groin. He looked even happier as he had when you asked to come inside and you strangely felt better knowing that there was a place in his life where he wasn’t miserable, where he could escape the cruelty of school yard taunts, and comfortably be himself. “That’s embarrassing…” You hadn’t even heard Ashton’s fast footsteps come back downstairs. His voice caught you off guard as you turned to see him standing, folded clothes in a pile in his hands, and you almost dropped the picture on the ground.
“It’s not. You look really happy…in all of them.” Correcting him, you put the photograph back and noted that he was changed from his wet uniform into a pair of tight skinny jeans and a shirt that was almost more holes than it was actual material. “Well, except that one.” With your chin, you nodded to one of the first photographs that was of a very tiny Ashton, wearing a face that could redefine anger as he sat on the beach, in the sand, with a plastic shovel held like a gavel in his hand.
Ashton laughed along with you lightly, glancing at the picture of himself, and reaching forward to offer you the clothing, “I hope this is alright. It’s just sweats and a shirt from my sister’s room. It should fit though. It’s like a big t-shirt. The bathroom is straight down there.” He nodded as you used both hands to take the neatly folded pile from his hands.
“Whatever. You’ve already seen my nipples.” You joked, standing still in one spot as you took your top hand off of the pile and unbuttoned your first blouse button, watching Ashton’s eyes dilate until they looked like syrupy pancakes. “I’m kidding.” Laughing, you spun around and nearly whipped him with the ends of your hair as you left for the washroom.
You changed swiftly into the pieces of clothes Ashton gathered for you, dancing your way into the sweatpants as if you were in the comfort of your own home and the radio was blasting something catchy. His sister’s shirt wasn’t as large as he must thought it was as your breasts stretched the fabric, the word ‘Groovy’ in purple font becoming an elongated mess across your chest. Staring into the mirror, you sighed. You had two choices. Either you were going to walk out there in a white blouse that showed off your goods or you were going to proudly wear his little sister’s shirt that gave you more cleavage than that shirt was built to hold. Back and forth, you played Rock, Paper, Scissors, in your head and chose to keep Lauren’s top on before leaving the bathroom with your wet clothes folded into the bath tub.
Ashton was in the kitchen when you came out, spreading vegemite on toast and singing, quietly, a Green Day song under his breath. You slid into the nearest chair, bringing one knee up and loosely holding your arms around it as you listened. He sounded sweet, the kind of voice you wished was buzzing in your ear on the nights you struggled to fall asleep at a decent hour. Contently, you listened with your head resting on your propped up knee, not saying a word or alluding to the fact that you had emerged from the washroom, changed.
“Oh, hey.” Ashton squeaked, two plates of toast in his hand as he turned and spotted you. “I didn’t know…were you listening?” He eyed you with a funny twinkle in his eyes as he walked over and slid a plate in front of you.
“Yep!” You nodded with one firm bob of your head. “You have a great voice. I thought I wanted to learn this card game, but now I want you to teach me how to sing.” Giggling, you took the first piece of between your thumb and index finger. “Thanks.” You put down your knee, revealing your cleavage that mirrored a piece of the Grand Canyon to him and helped yourself to a bite.
Ashton’s mouth was agape as he stood up across from you. He was going to sit, but he had frozen on his way down, just staring as your eyes were closed and you were enjoying the toast he made you.
“What happened to the gentleman in the car who offered me his sweater, huh?” You asked as your eyes opened and blinked up at him, half amused and half unimpressed with the look of shock he was wearing like a fashion accessory.
“I’m just….it’s….” Ashton sat down and pouted, reverting back to his defense ways. “Shut up.” He muttered and sucked vegemite residue off of his thumb, looking like the angry little boy in the picture for a moment.
“Ashton, have you ever had a girlfriend?” Food in your mouth, almost gone, you asked. “I’m just curious…” It was the way he blushed at the sight of your nipples in the car and now how he nearly lost his mind over the sight of prominent cleavage right in front of him. It made you wonder. Yes, he had nerdy hobbies and he flat ironed his hair, but all things considered, Ashton was attractive and it seemed plausible that he could have had some card game loving girlfriend with a flat chest at some point.
“What do you think?” He shot you a look that was bitterer than any morning coffee you had ever had before biting loudly into a corner of toast. “I’m the biggest loser in our school…”
“Don’t call yourself that!” Right away, the words just fresh from his mouth, you cringed and dropped the uneaten half of toast in your hand back on the plate. “You’re so sexy offering me your cardigan, singing Green Day, making toast, and then you say something like that and ruin it.” You were rubbing your hands together over the plate, riding your fingers of all crumbs, while scolding the boy in the grade above you. “So what? You play a magic card game and a bunch of steroid junkies tease you, you’re still really cool, but you don’t believe it, so why should any girl?”
He was still staring at your chest. He couldn’t help himself. It almost made your tongue lashing sting less, the sight of your chest staring back at him with it’s soft skin and light movement. Ashton was glad of the table covering his lap as he was aroused simply by looking at you, but it only worsened when you called him ‘sexy’.
“So both of us don’t think we’re good looking, but the other does….weird..” Thoughtfully, Ashton considered, moving his head from side to side. “I’ve always thought you were pretty, you know. First time I saw you, you were running laps in gym class and you were laughing with Stephanie Carmichael with your hair in a really high pony…”
“Well, I don’t remember the first time I saw you,” Pouting at the fact that he had a cute story and you didn’t, you mumbled over the plate of toast. “But I’m sure I thought you were cute….and that was really sweet.”
Silently, you two finished your toast, unsure of how the afternoon had taken such a strange turn. He picked up his plate once he had taken his last bite, carrying it over to the sink and running water over it before beginning to put away the toaster, vegemite, and knife. You joined him by the sink, putting your own plate over his and licking the vegemite off your front teeth behind closed lips.
“Excuse me…” Ashton reached over your waist to close the cutlery drawer, but you took his hand off of the knob and brought it to your chest, laying it down over the ‘Y’ in the word ‘Groovy’ right over your breast furthest from him. You watched him closely as he watched his hand open and close over it before kneading it up and massaging it inward. He had never felt a real boob before and now that he had, he didn’t want to let go. It was a lot like a balloon full of custard just like his friend, Calum, had told him it would be.
“Do you want to take me upstairs?” Glancing up from your own breasts and his hand, you checked in him, your eyes entranced by his, but Ashton barely answered you. He shook his head as if to say ‘no’ and then moved both hands to your hips, lifting you up onto the counter where the toaster had previously sat and hurried to put his lips over yours, happy to have you the way he did outside of school, chest to chest, hands on one another. He imagined there was a reason it felt so easy there and he was looking forward to finding out now.
It had been on Ashton’s mind a lot lately. Was he ever going to lose his virginity? He was eighteen after all and most of his friends, even the ones from the Dungeons and Dragons shop, had done the deed with girls from their schools, or family friends, or even the slutty sandwich artist at Subway, Quick Handy J Jemima, but he had been holding out that it was someone he really liked on a personal level. While he wasn’t expecting you to quickly slide off his sweatpants on top of his counter, he didn’t object when you started to kick them off. Instead, Ashton took his mouth from yours, keeping both hands on your breasts, and leaned in to kiss your thighs as they were exposed to him, nibbling on the skin and blessing them the way he thought they should be. His hands slowly gave up each of your mounds, coming down to gently pull your knees away from one another so he could slide them up to the material of your red underwear and pulled them to the side.
He had been close to his knees as he laid little kisses up your legs, but they knocked together and he completely dropped to them at the sight of your sweet pink lips together, looking ripe and juicy as a freshly picked peach from the farmer’s market, and he stared for a moment before looking up at you and waiting for your slow motion nod of approval. Ashton plucked his thumb over one lip, brushing it against fold slowly before you leaned back against the kitchen window, your head knocked against it. Reaching down, you pulled your lips apart and revealed a different shade of pink, a mauve almost, and Ashton licked his lips before burying his face inside. He wrapped his arms around the small of your back, pulling your pussy as close to his face at the edge of the counter as he could, flicking his tongue up and down while nestling it inside of your sweetness. Calum had said that when he ate a girl out that it tasted like salt and vinegar chips. Ashton was pleasantly surprised to taste sugar between your legs, sweet just as he knew you were at your core, despite how you had lectured him while eating toast.
“Holy fuck, did they teach you this in chess club?” Panting above his head, your fingers twirled in a circle above him and grabbed at his hair as you leaned over at the waist.
Against the pull of your wrist, Ashton looked up, his lips glossed from your wetness, and licked between them with his tongue while catching his own breath, “I’ve never gone down on a girl before. This okay?” He checked, innocently, but you just vigorously nodded and leaned back against the wall, presenting yourself to him for more.
“Ashton, please, take me to your room…” The idea of his little sister and brother walking in on their brother chowing down on your pussy like it was gushing vegemite wasn’t one you could get off with in your mind, so you pleaded in a little coo while bucking your hips against his face. He pulled away and stood up onto his knees, giving you both his hands to help you off the counter once your underwear was adjusted and the sweats were pulled back up.
Up the stairs, he led the way backwards, flat hands on your face as he kissed you over and over, as if it would be too painful to stop, falling down on his ass a few times up the stairs as you tripped twice. He pushed open his bedroom door with his back and moved himself to the bed, taking you by the hand. In his head, he remembered how you called yourself his girlfriend in the school parking lot and he just hoped he could convince you to want that for real. Your eyes were on the large Harry Potter poster hung above his head, a smirking Snape with glowing eyes staring back at you. Ashton saw the confused look in your eyes and followed your stare, looking up at the poster and hoping it hadn’t killed the vibe. He palmed himself between his legs and started to take off his jeans.
“We don’t have to, if you don’t want to…” He spoke up, bringing your attention down to him again, his member keeping his boxers clung to him until he rolled them off and revealed his girth. It was unbeknownst to Ashton that your own sexual history was small, to say the least, but you were certain that what he was packing was more than adequate. In fact, you weren’t sure how your compact would fit him as he was as thick as you current Biology textbook was or so it seemed from where you were standing. You ignored the poster and walked over, the sweats hanging low on your hips as you rested your hands on his shoulders and smiled down at him blinking up at you, eyes large and loyal. “I’m not one of those guys who’s going to go to school tomorrow and brag…” He mumbled as a promise to you. “I mean, who would believe me?” Bashfully, he looked down and at his naked bottom half.
Without missing a beat, you took your finger to his chin and brought his honey sweet eyes back up to you and kissed his nose with a peck, “I’m going to brag about it.” You whispered before closing your mouth over his and shaking your hips until the sweatpants fell. Ashton laid back on his bed, legs hanging over it and helped you out of your satin underwear. As soon as they were on the floor, you stepped out and rubbed at yourself before straddling over him.
“I’m going to make you feel so good.” In his ear, you whispered as his hands held you, more than ready to help you move over him. His cock was swollen between your legs and he knew, if it could talk, it would beg for entrance. His gut was in knots. You peeled off your shirt, sitting up over him, you reached behind your back to unclasp your bra, but Ashton sat up and insisted on doing it himself. He had always wanted to after all. He gently moved your hand from the beige band and fiddled with it for a moment. He fancied himself someone who could work his way out of any situation. World of Warcraft and Magic the Gathering had taught him a lot about strategy, but they weren’t educational when it came to removing a bra from a girl’s body. You flinched as he snapped your shoulder blades again, cursing under his breath and struggling. “Please, let me…” You whispered before reaching behind yourself and taking it off without a hitch. He was beating himself internally for not being able to get it off on his first try, but his frustrations were forgotten as soon as your breasts were bare and revealed to him. Ashton nuzzled his head into your chest and took the left one in his mouth first, biting on your nipple lightly in order to make it as hard as it looked in the car. As he sucked on your breasts, you took his took in both hands and ran your grip up and down, spitting on the tip for lubrication and listening to Ashton’s underground moans for motivation to keep your pace steady.
For a brief second, he was thankful for the bullies today as they had brought him to you somehow and you were giving him the afternoon special he had only ever dreamed of up until now.
“I’m on the pill…” You held the back of his neck tightly with one hand, the other still pumping his cock as if it could grow any more and you leaned back to lead him into your entrance, his gasp all the approval you needed once the tip was inside. You brought your face together in wrinkles as his width required some stretching on your part and you nestled your head into his shoulders, hand off his neck and in his hair as you lowered yourself on his sweltering cock. There was a rush of blood and you looked away from his shoulder to the poster of Snape again, concentrating on it until Ashton began to buck his hips and rock yours just as he had intended when he was cleaning out your pussy on the kitchen counter. You let out a gasp and stared at him in disbelief.
“You’re full of tricks.” For a second, you giggled, noticing the cocky smirk that struck his face before closing your eyes and letting him take control, bouncing you happily over him, your free breasts moving up and down along with you.
“So fucking pretty.” Ashton muttered. He listened to the sound of rain outside, fighting with your panting over top of him, and he was certain it was better than any Green Day song he had ever heard before.