Hey everyone, so this is my second story. Just another one-shot. I'm currently working on an actual story that will be longer than just 1 chapter. It's going to be done with another author. I won't say who, you'll just have to wait and see :)
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Please review.
"Come on P. Sawyer, you have to learn how to defend yourself." Brooke said sternly, hands on her hips, glare in place, sauciness a go.
"Gosh Brooke, I know ok? You've told me like a hundred times already. I got it." Peyton was procrastinating about putting her gloves on. They were brand new. Rawlings. Brooke had no idea if they were good enough, but she liked the way 'rawlings' rolled off her tongue, at least that's what she told Peyton.
One morning out of the blue, the brunette bounced her way into the Sawyer household and barged into Peyton's room with all the gear ready to go. Of course, the blonde had pretended to be asleep, but was vastly awoken with a threat of cold water being dumped on her if she didn't get her skinny ass up.
Brooke was so excited when she awoke her best friend that morning, that she had all her gear on: expensive, yet trendy looking outfit, mouth guard with stars on it, pink gloves, and pink converse. Anyone in their right mind would laugh at such an extravagant display of clothing to just work-out in, but on Brooke Davis…well, she could make anything look good.
"Blondie, I swear if you are not standing in front of this punching bag in about 5 seconds, I'm gonna go tell Papa Sawyer how hot he looks mowing the lawn right now." She said whilst glancing outside the 2nd story window.
"Ugh, fine Brooke. You win. Happy?" The blonde mumbled sluggishly dragging her feet to her destination. Peyton couldn't possibly figure out why her B. Davis would want to be up at such an ungodly hour, JUST to practice hitting some punching…thingy that won't even fight back.
"Of course." Brooke walked over to stand behind Peyton, feet in place, body dangerously close to the blonde. "Ok Peyt," The huskiness evidently showing in the brunette, "All you have to do is pull your arms up in front of you face," Brooke's mouth inching closer to her ear, "thumbs outside your fist," hands roaming to Peyton's hips, right above the material of her shorts, ready, waiting, steadying. "And just punch…"
The lust, vividly apparent in the brunette, made the blonde shiver in anticipation. With no words spoken, no thoughts uncertain, Brooke firmly grabbed Peyton's hips, spun her around and pinned her to the punching bag, as much as she could without it moving to far.
"Think you can do it by yourself P. Sawyer?" Peyton's gaze met the lust-filled hazel one, intently staring back at her. She knew Brooke was referring to an entirely different work-out, but even then, she couldn't get a word out. The blonde was only aware of Brooke, and Brooke alone, and didn't realize anything else until she no longer felt the bag swaying, but firmly placed against her back, with the brunette's knee firmly placed in between hers.
"God, Brooke…please" With one hand firmly planted on the bag, and the other snaking vitally close to the blondes center, the brunette kisses her so forcefully that if her back hadn't been supported, Peyton's knees would have collapsed. Not missing a beat, Brooke slid her hand, separating the cotton material from skin, and slowly inched her way down to the spot she longed to touch.
"Do it, now…" The innocence of the blonde's voice, audibly gone, was lowered an octave or two after breaking the kiss. "So demanding Blondie, never pegged you for the type." Wasting no more time, Brooke plunged inside, feeling her own breath hitch.
"We really…should…get to…the bed," she said in between thrusting, "Guess the gloves are coming off." Clothing discarded, hormones rising, and bodies exploring, was Brooke Davis's way of "learning to defend oneself."
Hope you enjoyed. And thanks to those who read my other one-shot "Not Even That"
- Rae