Somehow, they seemed to have skipped foreplay again and, even now, replete against him, Lara remained almost fully clothed, the rise and fall of her chest clearly calculated to be steady. The girl had reserves of control that went pretty bloody deep.
She'd leant her forehead down against his collarbone as she'd ridden through her last climax and that's where she stayed now, her thick hair still wrapped through Fletch's fingers, her breath warm against his chest. It was a position ripe with the familiar, one where there was no escaping the sights, sounds and scent of each other, but for all her rigid back, it didn't seem like Lara wanted to escape. In fact, with him tuned to her every move, he was sure he'd felt her lips spread into a smile against his skin.
"I felt that," he murmured and she let out a soft scoff.
"I should hope so," she replied, almost drowsily. "Otherwise I don't know what you're getting out of this arrangement."
"You're funny," he said, mildly sarcastic. "I mean I can feel you smiling."
She seemed to consider this and then, her words muffled as she turned her face against his neck, she muttered, "I'm probably just smirking at how small your dick is."
His resultant laugh surprised even him; a loud, honest bark that broke through the last of his tension and made him practically curl over her, shaking with mirth. For her part, he felt her lips spread wider into a grin.
For something that was surely destined to end badly, he thought as he pulled her in against him a little tighter, he couldn't fault the way it'd started.
Chapter 13 – Girls Like Her
"What did you do to this zip?" I turned to face Fletch accusingly, body still buzzing from our recent activity, and my hands tugging futilely at the metal fastening behind me.
It was a few days after I'd first turned up on Fletch's doorstep and so far, my advanced scheduling skills had ensured an almost seamless inclusion of our trysts into my timetable. This was handy, as the intensity that had sparked our bizarre arrangement was currently showing no sign of abating…as my abused skirt was testament.
The damage must have occurred as Fletch bundled me backwards into the venue for that day's interlude, which just so happened to be the art studio I'd first used to introduce Livvy to the penis. When he'd kicked the door shut behind us, tugging at my skirt, I'd felt the material snag, but had been too busy similarly ridding him of his clothing to pay proper attention. This felt like a betrayal of such a divine piece of wearable art and, as I continued to try and correct the damage done, I made a mental note that my flimsier attire was best saved for Fletch-free days.
And I was going to start having Fletch-free days sometime soon, I told myself firmly. Once we'd both let off some steam, things would go back to normal and I was looking forward to experiencing life with a lot less tension in it. So, apparently, were my clothes.
"C'mere, let me have a look." Fletch, hitched up on one of the art stools, paused in the act of reaching for his t-shirt and reached for me instead. I went to protest that I had it, but with one quick tug, he'd pulled me back to him and bent down to examine the zip he'd so brutally manhandled. Wary of damaging the skirt still further, I stood still, tolerating his ministrations until I heard the unmistakable sound of metal teeth zipping together.
"Good to go." He released me, punctuating the action with a light smack on my backside. I whirled to protest, but saw, from his shit-eating grin, that it’d only been done for a reaction. Refusing to rise to his bait, I looked down instead to check there'd been no lasting harm done to my skirt. I was relieved to see that it looked fine, but was still cross at myself for allowing Fletch to cause a near disaster on one of my favourite pieces.
"Be a bit more careful in future, would you?" I snapped, forgetting in my irritation that I'd just determined there wasn't going to be much of a future. "This is a Za-Za's original; its delicate workmanship can't handle your big, grabby man hands."
Out of the corner of my eye I could've sworn I saw Fletch shoot me an odd look, but when I lifted my head to see him properly, it was gone.
"Just as well you can," he said and, when I quirked an eyebrow in question, he explained, "handle my big, grabby man hands, that is."
I rolled my eyes. "I've had practice."
He smirked, and I was in very real danger of smirking back when I was distracted by a couple of short, sharp beeps from my bag. Looking quickly away from Fletch, I dug my phone out to see that I'd received a message from Stefano: Ur presence required in ref.
Frowning slightly, I checked Big Blue, turning to the calendar and seeing that, as I'd thought, I hadn't had plans to meet with him.
"Problem?" Fletch asked and I shook my head, closing the folder with a snap and returning it to my satchel.
"No, just Stefano trying to mess with my timetable." My frown deepened as the words left my mouth. I should've stopped at 'no', the rest had been superfluous detail.
"Well, we all know how you hate that." Fletch didn't seem to have noticed my faux pas, busy as he was running a hand through his hair in an attempt to ruffle it back into some semblance of a style. It was almost a shame to see it put back into order after my fingers had done such an expert job clutching it into odd angles.
I was momentarily caught off guard, remembering how his soft hair had felt beneath my palms, and so missed the furrow in his brow. There was also a pause I didn't realise was significant until Fletch broke it by saying, "I thought it might’ve been something to do with next week."
I went very still, replays of his dark hair threaded through my pale fingers fading instantly from my mind's eye. 'Next week', a vague intro to a very specific topic.
Where 'Family Night Thursdays' were the lowlight of my week, the following Thursday was destined to be the lowlight of my year. Next week would've been Donny's 22nd birthday.
Where I knew some families who’d lost a kid preferred to hide away on anniversaries like this, my mum always insisted on inviting basically everyone she knew to a get together in my brother's honour. Whilst I'm sure she did it in some attempt to celebrate Donny's life, his birthday was, without a doubt, the most depressing experience of every year. I usually spent it sculling back stomach-curdling amounts of alcohol in a vain attempt to block out the way Mum spent the whole day looking hopefully towards the front door. I don't know whether she was hoping it was Donny or my dad who would walk through it, but needless to say, neither ever did.
So, yeah, 'next week' definitely wasn't something I was willing to get into while still enjoying the after-effects of hot sex with my dead brother's friend.
As the ice that had momentarily frozen my limbs cracked, I pretended Fletch hadn't spoken. Instead, I chose to retrieve my compact-mirror and set to inspecting my make-up for smudges...albeit with perhaps more intensity than was strictly warranted.
"I'm coming, you know. Next week."
And, as usual, Fletch wasn't going to take the hint.
"I figured," I responded coldly.
Well, of course he was bloody coming; he and my mum were practically besties, weren't they?
I saw him go to say something further and closed my compact with a loud snap.
"That's enough, boy-o," I told him grimly. "I agreed to root you, not be bored witless by deep and meaningfuls."
He refused to look chastened, but gaze sickeningly heavy with understanding, he did at least nod slightly and let the matter drop. He was apparently still in a chatty mood, however, as he abruptly switched gears to ask, "Has Stefano had any more issues with Eric and that lot?"
I recognised the sympathy topic shift with a grimace; you didn't grow up the healthy kid with a dying sibling without becoming an expert in them. Brother's hunched over sweating and vomiting from the chemo? Apparently it's a good time to ask if you're enjoying school. Community nurse's hands are busy running over your brother's buttocks checking for bed sores? You'll probably find she really wants to talk about the weather.
Still, maudlin sympathy aside, I had to acknowledge Fletch had at least asked a
legitimate question considering the circumstances under which he'd last seen Stefano.
"No further Earnest Gays run-ins as far as I'm aware." I tightened my ponytail with a swift tug and then added in satisfaction, "They're laying low after we reported them for harassment."
As if Stefano himself was there, nudging me hard in the ribs, I felt reluctant thanks for Fletch's role in getting rid of Eric and his buddies rise up my throat and hover just behind my lips.
"Good-o." Clearly still treading carefully, however, Fletch's response was casual enough to force the words of appreciation back down my throat where they belonged.
Unfortunately, the relief from this let off was short-lived as I realised we were now just standing there, awkwardly. With the conversational crises averted and the pair of us sufficiently put back together to re-emerge into the world, Fletch shouldn't have been able to see me for dust, and yet...
It took no more than a second of introspection to realise why I was hesitating. Fletch's oblique mention to Donny had swung our interaction to the furthest point from 'casual', somewhere I couldn't comfortably leave us, not if I was expecting to meet up with him again anytime soon, anyway. I needed something to break the tension and, as Fletch turned to get his bag, I saw just the thing; some black charcoal had found its way onto the back of his shorts.
Without warning, I stepped forward and delivered two sharp slaps to his behind; one to knock the dust off, the other in payback for his similar move earlier.
The strain of the past couple of minutes disappeared instantly as Fletch span around to stare at me in shock. Enjoying the one-upmanship, I smiled smugly in the face of his astonishment and he relaxed into a short, knowing chuckle. Still grinning, he hooked a finger into the waistband of my poor skirt, pulled me forward and pressed a swift, hard kiss against my mouth. It was a move calculated to skew the advantage back in his favour, but I found that I didn't mind too much.
The kiss was almost over before it'd begun, though, as Fletch pulled back, turned my watch the better to see the time, and cursed.
"I've gotta run," he said, snatching up his bag. "See you later." And then he was off, exiting through the studio door at a jog.
Following him to the threshold, I watched him go, marvelling anew that I let this guy anywhere near me. His t-shirt looked like something you got for free at some sort of expo and I could hear that most unattractive of sounds, thongs flip flopping, even at this distance, and yet...
Having spent a solid 20 minutes in close proximity to Mr My-Personal-Thermostat-is-constantly-set-to-High Townsend, I found that now he was gone I was experiencing the beginnings of a bone-deep chill. I wanted his heat back...and I wouldn't have said no to the scrape of his stubble against my neck, either.
It was lucky then that Fletch rounded a corner out of sight and, with a little bit of a shake, I pulled myself together. There was no denying sex adrenaline did strange things to a person.
Sliding the piece of cardboard affixed to the studio door from 'engaged' to 'free', I set off towards the ref to meet Stefano, almost floating on my post-root buzz. Maybe something of this gratification showed on my face as I entered the cafeteria because, as I breezed past a group of sharp-nosed girls, I heard that familiar, susurrus syllable follow me.
"Slut."
Ah, the campus-wide Tourettes reared its ugly head once more.
I'd told Livvy that I didn't mind that people shouted things like that at me, and I honestly didn't. Sometimes, however, when I was in the mood, it was just plain fun to give back as good as I got.
Turning back around, I strutted over to the group, enjoying how their faces went blank with shock as I approached. Apparently it was one thing to hiss at people as they went by, quite another to have them opt to engage their right of reply.
"I assume, ladies, that you've picked up on my post-orgasmic state from the amazing sex I just had and wish to comment upon it." I was taller than them, I realised, and used this to my advantage, drawing myself up and then peering disdainfully down at them. "In which case, may I suggest some synonyms to your four letter word of choice? How about satiated? Or replete? Something as basic as satisfied? Or indulged? No?" I looked between them, their expressions still slack. "OK then, I suppose it’s best you should stay paddling around in the shallow pool of monosyllables, you'd probably flounder in the deep end anyway."
There was a moment of profound silence, during which my prey stayed frozen, and then a new voice said coldly, "Here's a hint, this is the bit where you scatter, feeling like pathetic excuses for human beings."
The advice was taken as the girls, no doubt a subset of the slut scrawlers who kept writing on my door, did indeed scatter. For my part, I turned to see who had spoken and was in no way surprised to see that it was Merry. Her gaze was as grey and unflinching as concrete as she watched my detractors depart, but once they were out of sight, she underwent a complete transformation, focusing on me with a sly smile.
"Amazing sex, hey?" She asked pointedly. "This wouldn't have anything to do with me passing on a certain someone's address last week, would it?"
From making vocabulary my bitch only moments before, it was a long fall down to my complete lack of a response to her question, but fall I did. Merry didn't seem to mind, however. Her dimples became practically cavernous as her mouth split into a wide grin before she let out a weird sort of squeak and threw her arms around me, pinning my own arms to my sides.
"I knew it!" She exclaimed excitedly, giving me a little shake. "I knew you guys were close to giving in."
I didn't enjoy the 'giving in' reference, but was unable to contradict her as that was pretty much what Fletch and I had done.
"I thought you didn't like Fletch," I said instead, breaking her iron grip with effort and setting her back a step on the white-tiled floor. "Shouldn't you be all 'you could do so much better'?"
"I never said I didn't like him," Merry argued, smiling over at someone she knew getting their lunch, before refocusing on me. "I said I had issues with him, which I do, and which you do too unless sex has suddenly wiped his slate clean?" Her words ended in a question and I snorted.
"Hardly." As she continued to look enquiringly at me, I added, "It's just sex."
Merry released a snort of her own and shook her head. "Really, La-La, just sex? Haven't you ever seen a romantic comedy? It's never just sex."
In my own way, I got along with Merry. She might have been my antithesis in most things, but on the whole, I considered most of her points to be good ones. Not this one, however, this one made my blood start to boil.
"Don't be so naive," I snapped. "By that logic I'm going to end up settling down and experiencing an enduring romance with a whole trough-full of guys. I worked my through a significant proportion of the male population of this campus in my first year, but I can promise you it was, to a man, just sex."
A break in the clouds suddenly sent a stream of pale winter sunlight in through the large windows, lighting up Merry's blonde curls and doing its best to make her look angelic. Her expression, however, was more reminiscent of a stubborn mule than some sort of celestial being.
"I'll re-phrase," she said bluntly. "When it comes to you and Fletch, it's never going to be just sex."
I'd mocked those other girls for their use of a four letter word, but I was just about to unleash a barrage of my own when I felt a hand land repressively between my shoulder blades.
"Good, you're both here," Stefano's voice cut in. "And talking about sex! Perfect, just what I wanted. Although, fascinating as your sex-life undoubtedly is, Lara, you're going to have to take a backseat on this one. Someone else's salacious tale is the one to be told today."
As was presumably the intent, these words pushed my annoyance at Merry swiftly to one side and I looked round at Stefano to ask, "What? Whose?"
He pointed through the crowd to the tables area and, following his finger, I saw Livvy sitting by herself, looking around nervously.
"Livvy?" I asked incredulously.
"Livvy doesn't have any salacious tales, she hasn't-" I stopped abruptly and then marched forward, hearing Stefano and Merry fall in behind me.
"Oh, hey!" Livvy straightened in her seat as we approached, waving awkwardly. "Thanks for coming."
"So?" I waved away her greeting as I sat myself down across from her; Stefano to my left, Merry to my right.
"By which I think Lara means, 'hi, how's it going? Have you had a good day?'" Stefano laughed, but my gaze was on Livvy and she knew what I meant.
"Taylor and I had sex," she said quietly.
I absorbed this and then prompted, "And?"
She pursed her lips and directed her gaze down to the white, plastic tabletop. "It was...good," she said, unconvincingly, and any aggro from our previous conversation instantly forgotten, Merry and I exchanged quick looks. "I mean, it was different from how I expected it to be," Livvy rushed to clarify. "I just...it was...Taylor was just so there!"
"That would probably be the 'couple' bit of coupling," Stefano suggested gently.
"Yeah, but in all my thinking about it, I reckon I'd sort of blurred him out," Livvy confessed. "I'd reduced him to a penis, but when he was naked and everything, there was all this other stuff. Like nipples! Guys have nipples!"
"Well," Merry looked to Stefano and I for help, but as neither of us had anything to offer in response to this biological revelation, she just finished lamely, "yes."
"I forgot."
"He was nice to you, though, right?" Merry's voice was soft, but not cloying, and I was glad she was there for Livvy to talk to. I could barely imagine the sort of carnage that would’ve ensued had I had to do this on my own. "And you were safe and everything?"
"Oh, yeah." Livvy at least sounded confident on this. "Yeah, Taylor was great and I'd made my protection decisions earlier so that was fine too. It was more that I didn't feel it."
"You didn't climax?" Stefano asked directly, and Livvy reddened and shook her head.
The Do-Gooder Page 16