DISCLAIMER: I own nothing. Cry me and all other authors a collective river.
I am considering writing a fluffy little Nathan and Hayley one-shot. My first shot, so let me know if I should attempt a second.
Much as Brooke Davis hates to admit it, Lucas is getting good.
The weekly ritual is more than amusing for the Ravens' head cheerleader, predictable and comforting in its sameness, a luxury she's rarely experienced in her life. The warm evening summer air is chilled by the slightest breeze, carrying the scent of smooth pine wood floors and mouth-melting delights. Surrounded by familiar smells and sounds, as the first of the dedicated spectators begin their pilgrimage to the tops of the stands and the flood lights powerfully illuminate the stadium, she is greeted by the sight of Lucas Scott.
The soft squeak of his sneakers treads across the boards as he moves in for the lay-up with ease, his face an intriguing mix of heartfelt determination and concentrated fear. Lucas is always the most punctual, intensely professional with every practised pattern of movement whilst his teammates have barely begun to change. Too easy, Brooke thinks with a smile that comes with equal effortlessness. Athletics might be Lucas' forte, but attractiveness was hers and she certainly pulled a crowd judging by the rowdy hotness emanating from the stands. She could get used to this.
"Are you sure...I should be...?"
The majority of the cheer and basketball squads have assembled in a united front on the court, each practising their drilled routines amidst flirtatious whispers and testosterone pumped chatter. Brooke waits for the perfect moment, biding her time as she stretches with her charges who stare at her with gazes full of admiration that are never reciprocated. Lucas passes her to collect his water bottle, a dodged side-step between avoidance and insecurity. He barely has time to react before she pulls him roughly into the cool unknown before the eyes of the world.
"Yes, Lucas. Yes."
The distraught guilt disturbing his innocent features as she spreads her legs in a perfect opening before him is beyond priceless, with only a shred of skirt separating him from the reality that dreams only delivered offered up before him. Dutifully he gazed into her eyes, his face mildly flushed with sweat in the way only a teenage boy's could. Down boy, lucky for her she was better at concealing her excitement or her perfect makeup would be ruined.
"Am I hurting you?"
In the past weeks it was becoming harder and harder for her to contain herself as he thrust deeply into her, the gentle rub causing shared body heat as he buried himself into her. The lubrication had come as he had accustomed to the action. His unfailing compassion, awkward and misplaced was
both endearing and infuriating, a habit she had tried to wean him out of much to her dismay. The stripping of innocence must be as such.
"Mmm...just like that"
The glimpse of flesh was nearly enough to destroy his composure completely, as her glittering hazel eyes urged him beyond the self-sustained restraints. For his gratification, she moaned in heated delight, satisfying him for his services.
"Brooke...I have to tell you...I think I'm going to..."
The interaction was always sweet and short-lived, much to Lucas' embarrassment. The storm of blonde curls entered the dark corner of the dressing room before either could protest, catching them in not the least compromising position. Careful P. Sawyer, who needs a curling iron when it's this humid?
"I wasn't..." Lucas began.
"Save it, Scott" Peyton snapped, dragging the gasping Brooke away without shame. Parting is such sweet sorrow indeed. Had Brooke not been so busy gloating over her own triumph with a smug smirk, she might have noticed the mourning look of disappointment Lucas directed as Peyton's perfect ass as she powered her way through the court like a tempestuous whirlwind.
Out of ear shot and the indignation of prying eyes, Peyton smiled at her best friend coolly. Everyone else might be here for the show, but Brooke knew that to Peyton, she was no act.
"A leg massage, Brooke? Again?"
"Peyton, you know I have to be properly warmed up! Besides...this time, he almost had the guts to make it past my thigh!" Brooke whispered huskily, smouldering brown eyes reflecting Peyton's crystal blue incredulity.
"Stop torturing that poor boy!" Peyton giggled, dropping her voice respectfully with all the restrain she could muster, "So...how was it?"
"Passable" Brooke smiled ravishingly.
But the potential was undeniable.