FIC: LIWFY 3/25: Heartbreaker (RPF, Kris/Lizzie, NC-17)
Heartbreaker
Kink bingo square: obedience
KAB RPF. 3300 words. NC-17. Kris/Lizzie. Also contains: wall sex, unprotected sex, desk sex
Kris is equal parts scared of and turned on by his TA, and he'll do anything she asks. [Story 3/25 of Life Is Waiting For You.]
The grades aren't posted online yet and it's killing Kris that he doesn't have his grade for this one class, the one he wants to know more than any of the others. He's not sure he's ever worked quite so hard in class in his life. He's certainly never been so motivated to do well. Or maybe terrified is the word he's looking for. No, he was right the first time, he wants to do well and it's not just the fear of disappointing someone who, okay, yeah, he's a little scared of, but who he mostly just respects.
When nothing's online when he checks yet again, he throws his jeans on-actually, he throws on Cale's jeans, then when they fall right off him again he finds his own and puts them on-and heads across campus to his professor's office to see if they're posted on his door and just haven't been updated on the university's antiquated system yet.
They're not. The only thing that's posted on his professor's door is an old Dilbert cartoon and the corner of a hot pink notice that was ripped off his door some time in the probably distant past.
At least Kris picked up a cup of coffee on his way so it wasn't a wasted trip. He leans against the wall, shoulders back and legs thrust out into the hallway, and sips his coffee as he hears the tick tick tick of the old, institutional clock on the wall. All he has to do after this is finish packing to head home for the holidays, so as much as he's looking forward to seeing his family again he's not in any hurry to get back.
"Do you think that if you stand there long enough the grades will magically appear?"
Kris knows that voice without even opening his eyes. "If I stand here long enough they will eventually show up," he says, "but it won't be magic, and I'm not sure I have that long. I may die of dehydration first."
"Fair enough," she says. Kris only opens his eyes when he hears the crinkling of paper, but it's only the wax paper from her cafeteria muffin as she polishes off the last bite. It's funny how Lizzie looks just as intimidating now, eating a muffin in a men's striped dress shirt and paint-splattered jeans as she does at the front of his class. "Professor West already left for the holidays."
"Oh," says Kris, and feels a little bit like an idiot now. A little bit more like an idiot.
"The office is backlogged right now. Happens at the end of every fall term; you'd think they'd learn. They'll get around to putting the grades up eventually."
"So I'm guessing you don't have them, then."
"No," she says as she pulls a bulging key ring from her jeans pocket and opens Professor West's door. Kris just nods and stays where he is by the wall, sipping his coffee. Might as well finish it before he heads out again, and he's actually gotten surprisingly comfortable where he is. "Well?"
It takes him a moment to realize that Lizzie's waiting in the doorway of the office. "Well what?"
"Aren't you going to ask?"
Kris isn't entirely sure what she thinks he's going to ask. What he wants to ask is whether or not he can come in with her, but he's pretty sure that's not where she's going with this. That's the stuff of the kind of dream where he wakes up with sweat at the nape of his neck and, in particularly egregious cases, sticky sheets. Not that that's ever happened. Lately.
"Whether or not I've seen the grades."
"Oh," says Kris, and feels like a bit of an idiot all over again. At least he's caught on enough now that he doesn't have to ask. "Is it good news or bad news?"
"I don't know," she admits. "A-minus. Is that good news or bad news?"
Kris breathes a sigh of relief. It's not an A exactly, but it's good enough for him and way better than he'd expected to do when he started the class. "Good news," he says. "Definitely good news. Definitely news I can go home with tomorrow."
"Ah, tomorrow," she says. "That explains why you weren't in any rush to get out of here."
"My roommate left this morning," he says, like she even cares. She's probably never even heard of Cale, as much as he's heard about her. "The dorm's emptying out fast."
"Hope you have dinner plans," she says. "No dining hall service tonight."
"Yeah, they didn't have breakfast either," says Kris. "I stole the last of Cale's cornflakes." Dry, because the milk in their mini-fridge was a full two weeks past its expiry date. Kris put it back in and left it there; hopefully he'll remember to take it out with the trash before he leaves for the holidays, because that would be an unfortunate surprise to return to in January.
"I think you forfeit any remaining food once you leave campus," she says. "Come on in."
As Lizzie talks to him she searches out a few papers from Professor West's desk and puts them in her messenger bag, then adds a book from the middle of one of the piles. She's obviously shutting the place down for the holidays, and Kris has no real idea what he's doing there but he goes with it, tries to look like he belongs because they're talking like real people all of a sudden and he's always wondered what Lizzie's like when she's a real person. So far it's not that different, so maybe Lizzie's normal state of being is making people do things, and making them want to do them.
Kris really, really wanted to do well in this class. And it wasn't just to impress her.
Okay, it was a little to impress her. Or at least satisfy her, which she seems to be though it's hard to be sure. Maybe now that it's over she just has no investment in it at all.
"You know now that the grades have gone in I'm not your TA anymore, right?" she says, pulling the blind down on the office window. It's old and thin and doesn't do a lot to shut out the afternoon sunlight slanting into the room, but it does block them from view. There's a plant on the windowsill, and idly Kris wonders if she'll be taking care of that over the break too.
"As of last Monday, yeah, I know," says Kris. "I mean...not that I was keeping track."
He was so keeping track.
"Monday, four p.m.," she says, which is really specific. "Close the door."
Kris closes the door, and doesn't even think about what he's doing till he already has. After a semester with Lizzie as his TA he just responds to her voice like that. He'd bet that a lot of people do, though fewer would admit it.
"And lock it?" He does that too, just a turn of his wrist to lock the knob. "Come here."
The office is small, like every office in this building, and made smaller by the books and papers piled everywhere. It's only two steps before Kris is practically pressed up against her, definitely far inside her personal space.
"You're free to go at any time," she says, making sure Kris is looking at her when she does. Kris nods, and it's only then that he really starts to think that what's happening here might really be happening here, and not just in his imagination. One half of her mouth turns up in a smile. "Just making sure you know the lock's not to keep you in."
"I would leave if I wanted to leave," says Kris, and he doesn't leave. He doesn't even move. He hardly even breathes until she's moving in and kissing him, firmly and unhesitatingly.
Kris hasn't kissed anyone since the last time he saw Didi, closing the car door on the last of her boxes and wishing her well. His only college relationship so far and it only lasted a couple weeks before Didi got an offer she couldn't refuse and headed off to Los Angeles. She promised to write and she has, regular emails that keep Kris in the loop of what's going on in her budding musical career, but Kris was still a little disappointed their thing never really had a chance to go anywhere.
He's less disappointed now.
"Take your shoes off," says Lizzie. Kris kicks them off and knocks them with his heel across the small office away from them. "And your socks."
He doesn't even look away from her as he toes his socks off, shoving them aside and out of the way, under the desk somewhere. He hopes he can find them again later because it would be really weird to come back from Christmas break to someone else's socks under your desk.
"Do you always do what you're told?" Her voice is different from what he's used to yet it has that same imperative tone to it. Kris doesn't even seriously think about questioning her.
"Only when it's you doing the telling," he admits. He can't think of anyone else in his life that commands that kind of trust from him on this level. (His doesn't bring his family into it at all, refuses to even think about them when he's making out with his former TA in his professor's vacated office.)
"That's good to know," she says, one hand holding his chin and kissing him again.
"And you're absolutely sure I'm awake right now and not still in bed dreaming?"
She laughs, and Kris isn't sure he's ever heard her actually laugh before. Snicker, maybe. "It's Christmas," she says, "or at least it will be soon. We're both stuck here after almost everyone else has already gone. I figured we could both use a little cheer."
Kris is really kind of awed that her idea of cheer involves office nakedness and not candy cane hot chocolate, though he could really go for one of those too. Maybe later, when he's back in his dorm room again and wondering if this really actually happened.
"Am I going to have to talk you through this?" she teases him when Kris hesitates at the top button of her shirt, fingers knowing just what to do but brain unsure of how to proceed here.
"No," he says, "but it might be hot if you do."
"Mr. Allen?"
"Yes?"
"Unbutton my shirt."
Kris's fingers suddenly work again, button after button falling open as he works his way down, pausing only to brush his wrist over her breast as he works. The shirt falls open in moments, too big and almost slipping off her shoulders before he even does anything at all. She rolls her shoulders back and there it goes, catching at her elbows.
"And my cuffs?"
He unbuttons those too, with only slightly more difficulty, and then the shirt's on the floor and Lizzie really is standing there in a white cotton bra and old, comfortable jeans. Kris isn't sure he's ever seen anything hotter in his life.
His hands hover at the button of her jeans, but she smiles and doesn't say anything at all and suddenly it really is a game. He can feel his groin muscles tightening even as he waits for her to tell him what to do next, where to go, what to unbutton or unzip or touch.
"My bra, Kris?" she says, and Kris is all over that. He's so much better at this than he was a couple of months ago, and it's hanging off her arms within moments. She didn't specify just undoing it so he gently pulls it off her arms too, dropping it on top of her shirt. It doesn't look like precious lingerie, more like something she'd wear when she just wants to be comfortable and isn't expecting to see anyone, but that doesn't mean he should treat it any less carefully.
"Now the jeans."
He knows she means hers, but he playfully goes for his own first before undoing them, just to see her reaction. Maybe to provoke her into ordering him around some more. He gets them undone and then waits, but she's waiting too, and so Kris drops to his knees to pull them down slowly, over her hips, down her thighs, right to her ankles. She carefully steps out of them and it's so disconcerting to look up at her right now, like everything is out of context.
She puts her thumbs inside the waistband of her panties at the hips and looks at him expectantly, but Kris waits for her to say something, waits for her to tell him.
"Take them off, Kris," she says finally, and he doesn't hesitate at all even though this is it, when her panties are off-cotton too, but matching her bra-she'll be naked in front of him. It's all just so easy.
He sits back on his heels and looks up at her, lips parted, just taking it all in until she tells him otherwise. Her hands are on her hips, feet apart, and even though Kris is sitting still, waiting, a part of him wants to grab her and throw her on the desk and do it just like that.
"Stand up," she says, and when he's standing again she pulls his arms over his head, tugs one shirt off and then the one beneath it instead of both at once. "Leave your pants for now."
"That's mean," he murmurs, and she just smiles at him, reaches for his hand and pulls it towards her body.
"Now's when you touch me," she says, "in case it wasn't clear."
Lizzie says now and Kris doesn't waste any more time, hands on her body starting at her shoulders and moving down her arms, her sides, her hips, back up to her breasts, cupping them both at once and leaning in again for another kiss. Kissing is touching too, and Kris still has the utmost faith in his abilities there.
"Yes, like that," she says, more than a murmur but less than conversational volume, but no less commanding than everything else. "More of that."
He teases her nipples with his hands, then with his lips and tongue, and pretends not to notice when Lizzie's hand drops between her legs because she hasn't asked him to go there yet and those boundaries are what's getting Kris as hot as he is. Those boundaries and his mouth on Lizzie's body, that is.
"Harder," she says. "Pinch them."
He does, lightly at first, then harder until he gets her to cry out, her hand moving faster between her legs. He can't see what's she doing, only sees the motion of her arm, hears the way her breathing changes.
"Now," she says, her voice catching at the end of the word. "Kris, now, I want you now."
She barely gets the words out before he's unbuckling his pants, letting them drop around his ankles and lifting her up against the wall so she can wrap her legs around him. He's inside her before he even thinks about it, deeper than he imagined, and her heels are digging into him as her head rolls back to tap against the wall. He grips her thighs and thrusts inside her and she just rides him like that, taking him in hard.
A moment later he swings them around and her ass is on the desk and Kris is still inside her, still moving but without supporting her weight anymore. Her legs are still around him and she clutches at him now, nails dragging down his chest hard enough to leave marks.
"Faster," she said. "Let go, Kris. But don't come before I do."
It's probably the most difficult order she's given him, but the one he most wants to obey. His brain says 'do it, come fast, come now' and he doesn't give in to it, makes himself wait, the anticipation rising higher and higher. He thumbs over her nipple again and reaches between her legs to rub her clit, inadvertently rubbing himself a little in the process, and pretty soon she's not giving orders anymore, she's just panting and rocking against him and leaving finger bruises in his bicep.
Kris is pretty sure he's having sex on top of someone's term paper, but as long as he's not getting jabbed by a staple or a paperclip he really can't bring himself to care that much. If it arrives back with mysterious stains, well, that's either the student's fault for not picking it up or Professor West's fault for leaving it so late.
It's certainly not Kris's fault.
"I want it now," she says. "Now."
Kris sinks his teeth into her shoulder and rubs circles on her clit with his thumb and then he can feel her coming, feel her clench around him and feel her thighs shake and feel her ribcage stop moving as she holds her breath.
He stops moving then, waits it out with her, waits for her quiet but firm, "Come now," before he grabs hold of her hard and drives inside her with a steadily increasing rhythm until his orgasm slams into him, leaving him breathless.
He's probably come that hard before but it's never hit his head like that, leaving him lightheaded and feeling his blood pounding in his veins.
They stay just like that for a little while before she lowers her legs, before he lets go of her, before they both search the messy desk for a box of tissues to clean up.
"I didn't..." he suddenly realizes, mortified that he neglected to go for his wallet.
"I didn't tell you to," she says, and Kris doesn't want her to take the responsibility off him like that but it works all the same. He really was so focused on her directions that he didn't think about anything else. Later he's going to worry about it and kick himself and do all the right things, but for now the weight's off his shoulders. "Get my clothes for me."
He gets her clothes for her, folding her jeans up on top of the pile and handing them over like they've just been laundered. She smiles at him as she rubs her thumb over the seam of her jeans before putting them back on again.
"Yours too," she says, and kisses him softly and there's something so gentle about it all now compared to how hard they'd been going at it before that it just makes him feel lighter. Lighter and stranger but happy, too, in some kind of weird way.
"If that's what you do for Christmas cheer, I'd love to see what you get up to under the mistletoe," he says, just to fill the silence, and she laughs like he's never heard her laugh before.
When all is said and done, Kris is only wearing one sock when he slips his shoes back on. He thinks about leaving the other sock wherever it's hiding, in spite of his earlier reservations, but decides that really would be too weird and gets down on his hands and knees to find it.
"Good luck next semester," says Lizzie as Kris emerges triumphant with the sock, which had been lurking behind an old coffee cup (Kris doesn't want to know), stuffing it in his pocket rather than taking his shoe off again to put it on. "It's been memorable."
"Memorable," he repeats, and thinks that's probably the perfect word for it. "It's definitely been that. Have a great Christmas, Lizzie."
"You too," she says, and Kris unlocks the door and goes.
Well. That's certainly one way to kick off the holidays.
Next story: End Over End
Kink bingo square: obedience
KAB RPF. 3300 words. NC-17. Kris/Lizzie. Also contains: wall sex, unprotected sex, desk sex
Kris is equal parts scared of and turned on by his TA, and he'll do anything she asks. [Story 3/25 of Life Is Waiting For You.]
The grades aren't posted online yet and it's killing Kris that he doesn't have his grade for this one class, the one he wants to know more than any of the others. He's not sure he's ever worked quite so hard in class in his life. He's certainly never been so motivated to do well. Or maybe terrified is the word he's looking for. No, he was right the first time, he wants to do well and it's not just the fear of disappointing someone who, okay, yeah, he's a little scared of, but who he mostly just respects.
When nothing's online when he checks yet again, he throws his jeans on-actually, he throws on Cale's jeans, then when they fall right off him again he finds his own and puts them on-and heads across campus to his professor's office to see if they're posted on his door and just haven't been updated on the university's antiquated system yet.
They're not. The only thing that's posted on his professor's door is an old Dilbert cartoon and the corner of a hot pink notice that was ripped off his door some time in the probably distant past.
At least Kris picked up a cup of coffee on his way so it wasn't a wasted trip. He leans against the wall, shoulders back and legs thrust out into the hallway, and sips his coffee as he hears the tick tick tick of the old, institutional clock on the wall. All he has to do after this is finish packing to head home for the holidays, so as much as he's looking forward to seeing his family again he's not in any hurry to get back.
"Do you think that if you stand there long enough the grades will magically appear?"
Kris knows that voice without even opening his eyes. "If I stand here long enough they will eventually show up," he says, "but it won't be magic, and I'm not sure I have that long. I may die of dehydration first."
"Fair enough," she says. Kris only opens his eyes when he hears the crinkling of paper, but it's only the wax paper from her cafeteria muffin as she polishes off the last bite. It's funny how Lizzie looks just as intimidating now, eating a muffin in a men's striped dress shirt and paint-splattered jeans as she does at the front of his class. "Professor West already left for the holidays."
"Oh," says Kris, and feels a little bit like an idiot now. A little bit more like an idiot.
"The office is backlogged right now. Happens at the end of every fall term; you'd think they'd learn. They'll get around to putting the grades up eventually."
"So I'm guessing you don't have them, then."
"No," she says as she pulls a bulging key ring from her jeans pocket and opens Professor West's door. Kris just nods and stays where he is by the wall, sipping his coffee. Might as well finish it before he heads out again, and he's actually gotten surprisingly comfortable where he is. "Well?"
It takes him a moment to realize that Lizzie's waiting in the doorway of the office. "Well what?"
"Aren't you going to ask?"
Kris isn't entirely sure what she thinks he's going to ask. What he wants to ask is whether or not he can come in with her, but he's pretty sure that's not where she's going with this. That's the stuff of the kind of dream where he wakes up with sweat at the nape of his neck and, in particularly egregious cases, sticky sheets. Not that that's ever happened. Lately.
"Whether or not I've seen the grades."
"Oh," says Kris, and feels like a bit of an idiot all over again. At least he's caught on enough now that he doesn't have to ask. "Is it good news or bad news?"
"I don't know," she admits. "A-minus. Is that good news or bad news?"
Kris breathes a sigh of relief. It's not an A exactly, but it's good enough for him and way better than he'd expected to do when he started the class. "Good news," he says. "Definitely good news. Definitely news I can go home with tomorrow."
"Ah, tomorrow," she says. "That explains why you weren't in any rush to get out of here."
"My roommate left this morning," he says, like she even cares. She's probably never even heard of Cale, as much as he's heard about her. "The dorm's emptying out fast."
"Hope you have dinner plans," she says. "No dining hall service tonight."
"Yeah, they didn't have breakfast either," says Kris. "I stole the last of Cale's cornflakes." Dry, because the milk in their mini-fridge was a full two weeks past its expiry date. Kris put it back in and left it there; hopefully he'll remember to take it out with the trash before he leaves for the holidays, because that would be an unfortunate surprise to return to in January.
"I think you forfeit any remaining food once you leave campus," she says. "Come on in."
As Lizzie talks to him she searches out a few papers from Professor West's desk and puts them in her messenger bag, then adds a book from the middle of one of the piles. She's obviously shutting the place down for the holidays, and Kris has no real idea what he's doing there but he goes with it, tries to look like he belongs because they're talking like real people all of a sudden and he's always wondered what Lizzie's like when she's a real person. So far it's not that different, so maybe Lizzie's normal state of being is making people do things, and making them want to do them.
Kris really, really wanted to do well in this class. And it wasn't just to impress her.
Okay, it was a little to impress her. Or at least satisfy her, which she seems to be though it's hard to be sure. Maybe now that it's over she just has no investment in it at all.
"You know now that the grades have gone in I'm not your TA anymore, right?" she says, pulling the blind down on the office window. It's old and thin and doesn't do a lot to shut out the afternoon sunlight slanting into the room, but it does block them from view. There's a plant on the windowsill, and idly Kris wonders if she'll be taking care of that over the break too.
"As of last Monday, yeah, I know," says Kris. "I mean...not that I was keeping track."
He was so keeping track.
"Monday, four p.m.," she says, which is really specific. "Close the door."
Kris closes the door, and doesn't even think about what he's doing till he already has. After a semester with Lizzie as his TA he just responds to her voice like that. He'd bet that a lot of people do, though fewer would admit it.
"And lock it?" He does that too, just a turn of his wrist to lock the knob. "Come here."
The office is small, like every office in this building, and made smaller by the books and papers piled everywhere. It's only two steps before Kris is practically pressed up against her, definitely far inside her personal space.
"You're free to go at any time," she says, making sure Kris is looking at her when she does. Kris nods, and it's only then that he really starts to think that what's happening here might really be happening here, and not just in his imagination. One half of her mouth turns up in a smile. "Just making sure you know the lock's not to keep you in."
"I would leave if I wanted to leave," says Kris, and he doesn't leave. He doesn't even move. He hardly even breathes until she's moving in and kissing him, firmly and unhesitatingly.
Kris hasn't kissed anyone since the last time he saw Didi, closing the car door on the last of her boxes and wishing her well. His only college relationship so far and it only lasted a couple weeks before Didi got an offer she couldn't refuse and headed off to Los Angeles. She promised to write and she has, regular emails that keep Kris in the loop of what's going on in her budding musical career, but Kris was still a little disappointed their thing never really had a chance to go anywhere.
He's less disappointed now.
"Take your shoes off," says Lizzie. Kris kicks them off and knocks them with his heel across the small office away from them. "And your socks."
He doesn't even look away from her as he toes his socks off, shoving them aside and out of the way, under the desk somewhere. He hopes he can find them again later because it would be really weird to come back from Christmas break to someone else's socks under your desk.
"Do you always do what you're told?" Her voice is different from what he's used to yet it has that same imperative tone to it. Kris doesn't even seriously think about questioning her.
"Only when it's you doing the telling," he admits. He can't think of anyone else in his life that commands that kind of trust from him on this level. (His doesn't bring his family into it at all, refuses to even think about them when he's making out with his former TA in his professor's vacated office.)
"That's good to know," she says, one hand holding his chin and kissing him again.
"And you're absolutely sure I'm awake right now and not still in bed dreaming?"
She laughs, and Kris isn't sure he's ever heard her actually laugh before. Snicker, maybe. "It's Christmas," she says, "or at least it will be soon. We're both stuck here after almost everyone else has already gone. I figured we could both use a little cheer."
Kris is really kind of awed that her idea of cheer involves office nakedness and not candy cane hot chocolate, though he could really go for one of those too. Maybe later, when he's back in his dorm room again and wondering if this really actually happened.
"Am I going to have to talk you through this?" she teases him when Kris hesitates at the top button of her shirt, fingers knowing just what to do but brain unsure of how to proceed here.
"No," he says, "but it might be hot if you do."
"Mr. Allen?"
"Yes?"
"Unbutton my shirt."
Kris's fingers suddenly work again, button after button falling open as he works his way down, pausing only to brush his wrist over her breast as he works. The shirt falls open in moments, too big and almost slipping off her shoulders before he even does anything at all. She rolls her shoulders back and there it goes, catching at her elbows.
"And my cuffs?"
He unbuttons those too, with only slightly more difficulty, and then the shirt's on the floor and Lizzie really is standing there in a white cotton bra and old, comfortable jeans. Kris isn't sure he's ever seen anything hotter in his life.
His hands hover at the button of her jeans, but she smiles and doesn't say anything at all and suddenly it really is a game. He can feel his groin muscles tightening even as he waits for her to tell him what to do next, where to go, what to unbutton or unzip or touch.
"My bra, Kris?" she says, and Kris is all over that. He's so much better at this than he was a couple of months ago, and it's hanging off her arms within moments. She didn't specify just undoing it so he gently pulls it off her arms too, dropping it on top of her shirt. It doesn't look like precious lingerie, more like something she'd wear when she just wants to be comfortable and isn't expecting to see anyone, but that doesn't mean he should treat it any less carefully.
"Now the jeans."
He knows she means hers, but he playfully goes for his own first before undoing them, just to see her reaction. Maybe to provoke her into ordering him around some more. He gets them undone and then waits, but she's waiting too, and so Kris drops to his knees to pull them down slowly, over her hips, down her thighs, right to her ankles. She carefully steps out of them and it's so disconcerting to look up at her right now, like everything is out of context.
She puts her thumbs inside the waistband of her panties at the hips and looks at him expectantly, but Kris waits for her to say something, waits for her to tell him.
"Take them off, Kris," she says finally, and he doesn't hesitate at all even though this is it, when her panties are off-cotton too, but matching her bra-she'll be naked in front of him. It's all just so easy.
He sits back on his heels and looks up at her, lips parted, just taking it all in until she tells him otherwise. Her hands are on her hips, feet apart, and even though Kris is sitting still, waiting, a part of him wants to grab her and throw her on the desk and do it just like that.
"Stand up," she says, and when he's standing again she pulls his arms over his head, tugs one shirt off and then the one beneath it instead of both at once. "Leave your pants for now."
"That's mean," he murmurs, and she just smiles at him, reaches for his hand and pulls it towards her body.
"Now's when you touch me," she says, "in case it wasn't clear."
Lizzie says now and Kris doesn't waste any more time, hands on her body starting at her shoulders and moving down her arms, her sides, her hips, back up to her breasts, cupping them both at once and leaning in again for another kiss. Kissing is touching too, and Kris still has the utmost faith in his abilities there.
"Yes, like that," she says, more than a murmur but less than conversational volume, but no less commanding than everything else. "More of that."
He teases her nipples with his hands, then with his lips and tongue, and pretends not to notice when Lizzie's hand drops between her legs because she hasn't asked him to go there yet and those boundaries are what's getting Kris as hot as he is. Those boundaries and his mouth on Lizzie's body, that is.
"Harder," she says. "Pinch them."
He does, lightly at first, then harder until he gets her to cry out, her hand moving faster between her legs. He can't see what's she doing, only sees the motion of her arm, hears the way her breathing changes.
"Now," she says, her voice catching at the end of the word. "Kris, now, I want you now."
She barely gets the words out before he's unbuckling his pants, letting them drop around his ankles and lifting her up against the wall so she can wrap her legs around him. He's inside her before he even thinks about it, deeper than he imagined, and her heels are digging into him as her head rolls back to tap against the wall. He grips her thighs and thrusts inside her and she just rides him like that, taking him in hard.
A moment later he swings them around and her ass is on the desk and Kris is still inside her, still moving but without supporting her weight anymore. Her legs are still around him and she clutches at him now, nails dragging down his chest hard enough to leave marks.
"Faster," she said. "Let go, Kris. But don't come before I do."
It's probably the most difficult order she's given him, but the one he most wants to obey. His brain says 'do it, come fast, come now' and he doesn't give in to it, makes himself wait, the anticipation rising higher and higher. He thumbs over her nipple again and reaches between her legs to rub her clit, inadvertently rubbing himself a little in the process, and pretty soon she's not giving orders anymore, she's just panting and rocking against him and leaving finger bruises in his bicep.
Kris is pretty sure he's having sex on top of someone's term paper, but as long as he's not getting jabbed by a staple or a paperclip he really can't bring himself to care that much. If it arrives back with mysterious stains, well, that's either the student's fault for not picking it up or Professor West's fault for leaving it so late.
It's certainly not Kris's fault.
"I want it now," she says. "Now."
Kris sinks his teeth into her shoulder and rubs circles on her clit with his thumb and then he can feel her coming, feel her clench around him and feel her thighs shake and feel her ribcage stop moving as she holds her breath.
He stops moving then, waits it out with her, waits for her quiet but firm, "Come now," before he grabs hold of her hard and drives inside her with a steadily increasing rhythm until his orgasm slams into him, leaving him breathless.
He's probably come that hard before but it's never hit his head like that, leaving him lightheaded and feeling his blood pounding in his veins.
They stay just like that for a little while before she lowers her legs, before he lets go of her, before they both search the messy desk for a box of tissues to clean up.
"I didn't..." he suddenly realizes, mortified that he neglected to go for his wallet.
"I didn't tell you to," she says, and Kris doesn't want her to take the responsibility off him like that but it works all the same. He really was so focused on her directions that he didn't think about anything else. Later he's going to worry about it and kick himself and do all the right things, but for now the weight's off his shoulders. "Get my clothes for me."
He gets her clothes for her, folding her jeans up on top of the pile and handing them over like they've just been laundered. She smiles at him as she rubs her thumb over the seam of her jeans before putting them back on again.
"Yours too," she says, and kisses him softly and there's something so gentle about it all now compared to how hard they'd been going at it before that it just makes him feel lighter. Lighter and stranger but happy, too, in some kind of weird way.
"If that's what you do for Christmas cheer, I'd love to see what you get up to under the mistletoe," he says, just to fill the silence, and she laughs like he's never heard her laugh before.
When all is said and done, Kris is only wearing one sock when he slips his shoes back on. He thinks about leaving the other sock wherever it's hiding, in spite of his earlier reservations, but decides that really would be too weird and gets down on his hands and knees to find it.
"Good luck next semester," says Lizzie as Kris emerges triumphant with the sock, which had been lurking behind an old coffee cup (Kris doesn't want to know), stuffing it in his pocket rather than taking his shoe off again to put it on. "It's been memorable."
"Memorable," he repeats, and thinks that's probably the perfect word for it. "It's definitely been that. Have a great Christmas, Lizzie."
"You too," she says, and Kris unlocks the door and goes.
Well. That's certainly one way to kick off the holidays.
Next story: End Over End