Christmas comes early
AN: Here are some quick facts about me and how I came to write this story.
I love smut. And I think I'm a pretty good smut writer now that I've lost my smut writing virginity. If I do say so myself.
I hate Joel. I really can't find any single attractive or even nice thing about him. No offense to Josh Cooke, who I'm sure is a very nice man, but Joel is a doofus. There, I've said it.
I love Wade. Nuff said.
Now enjoy this little sexy bit.
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of Hart of Dixie. Sad but true.
Spoilers: set somewhere during season three, before Joel is (Thank GOD!) shipped off to LA.
It is really well and truly ridiculous. It has to be the Alabama heat wave getting to you again, but you feet restless and well…okay, well, horny. No need to be all secretive about it. Considering the rate the condom bowl is raided by the good citizens of Bluebell, you aren't the only one, though you try not to think about certain people involved in certain sexual actions.
Perhaps you should. It might prove a very good cure.
Cause this is starting to become a problem, really. As of last week, you no longer have a boyfriend. Joel broke up with you from his hotel room in New York, which he shared with his publisher. His female publisher, who understood his needs so much better apparently, than you did. And whom he'd been seeing behind your back for months now, every time he travelled to the big city.
It still surprises you how little you really care when it comes down to it. When Wade cheated on you, his betrayal cut through you like a knife and it took months to get over the worst of your pain. Frankly, it was safe to say it sometimes still hurt, even when both of you were trying to move on.
You missed him in more ways than one, though, if you were on an honest streak, you missed the sex like mad. Even when you were with Joel. Especially when you were with Joel, who was…how to say it without blowing his ego to pieces…a bit helpless when it came to bedroom skills. Whereas Wade easily deserved his A+ grade point average, Joel was a D at best. You forced yourself not to make comparisons and to make do, hoping your faking skills had improved enough so he wouldn't notice. If he ever did, he never said.
But hey, water under the bridge. Better no sex than sex that bad. It's his new girlfriend's problem now. Though maybe you should send her a text to warn her. But no, that's cruel.
All this considered, you still have a problem. You're horny as hell, in eminent need of satisfaction and there's no man to quench your thirst. Like, right here, right now, because even going home is out of the question in the state you're in.
You know there's another solution, but your heart won't take you down that road. It'll certainly be satisfying, but the consequences on the long run could be devastating. So that option is out of the question.
What to do, what to do? Do you really need to take care of this yourself? It's been a while since you performed this self-service kind of act and you're not sure you can without your arsenal of toys at the ready.
Yet, the need is high enough to take the risk. You don't expect any more planned patients in the next two hours, and technically you're on your lunch break anyway. Brick should be fine on his own for a while.
Quickly checking if your office is locked and if the blinds are down, you settle in your desk chair and zip open your shorts, letting your hand travel underneath your panties.
Your folds are moist and craving your touch. Your breath hisses as you circle your outer labia, then your inner labia, getting closer and closer to the ultimate goal.
One finger slips inside and your muscles clench pleasantly at the sensations. Very quickly, that one finger isn't enough and you add a second, sighing and moaning softly.
Faster and faster you rub, thumb now circling your nub, but for some reason it's just not working. Your small fingers aren't quite reaching the places that make you sing and you're getting more and more frustrated with every passing second.
Your thoughts turn to a beautiful man with solid abs and warm, strong hands. Capable hands that know exactly where and how to touch you in a way that will set all your senses on fire immediately. Oh and his mouth, his lips suckling and licking, playful first, then increasingly harder and faster.
"Wade…"
His name comes out in a gasp. You're close now, so close, but still release seems to be out of reach and again, you gasp his name, this time in frustration, as if it's all his fault you can't get off. Which it is. Really.
Perhaps you've fallen asleep and are now dreaming. Perhaps you're hallucinating. Or you're a witch who's conjured him up out of thin air, because suddenly, you feel his presence before you see him. From underneath heavily lidded eyes, you see him come in. Wasn't your door locked?
No time for questions. He sees your need and obliges without a word. He kneels in front of you, pulls the shorts and panties down your legs and opens them wide so you're completely at his mercy. His hand pulls your fingers from your sopping wet folds and replaces them with his own, pushing two of them in deep.
With a scream, you come at once, gushing fluids all over his wrist. He grins up at you with a twinkle in his eyes, but still doesn't speak. Instead, he lets you ride out the waves of pleasure, before starting all over again. His fingers start slowly, but go faster when you shamelessly and eagerly push your pelvis closer to him.
You need more, so much more. A soft, desperate wail leaves your throat. Wade gets it and adds his mouth to the game, suckling, nibbling and licking like you remember, never stopping the exquisite pushing and pulling of his slightly curled fingers, hitting all the spots that were quite out of your reach. Within minutes, you feel a second orgasm approach and you brace yourself for the moment.
"Let go, darling," he whispers, before suckling your swollen, throbbing button into his mouth.
Your second climax crashes down on you. There's no time to scream as your body spasms and thrashes in the chair. Wade remains where he is, cleaning the flow of fluids with his tongue and looking like the cat that just ate a dozen cream stuffed canaries and knows there's more to come.
As the convulsions die down, he stands, grabs your waist and sets you down on your desk, legs dangling over the side. He stands between your open thighs, drops his jeans and boxers down on his feet and grabs a condom from the plate on your desk. You shake your head as he tries to pull it on.
"Birth control pills." You hiss.
It's a damn convenient thing Joel's allergic to latex and you needed to get a prescription for birth control pills instead. It's also damn convenient that, being Wade's doctor, you know he's completely healthy, something which sometimes astounds you, considering his track record.
You do love the feeling of riding bareback, you just don't want to take the risks involved.
Forgetting about the condom and with one thrust, he's buried to the hilt inside of you.
It's just too much. The sensations are whirling around you in quick succession, not giving you any chance to get your bearings in between. He fills you like no-one else ever could or ever will. God, how you've missed this! He doesn't even have to start moving before a third orgasm takes you by surprise. Or perhaps it's a continuation of your second. You don't know and don't care.
"Oh God, Wade!"
He slightly shudders, concentrating on not losing his footing as you clamp down on him. He doesn't want it to be over too soon for himself too.
After a minute or so, as you're lying limp and boneless on the hard surface, he slightly retracts from your folds, only to push back hard. You yelp in surprise and pleasure. Like before, he starts with a slow, sensuous rhythm, taking your over sensitive parts into consideration. For all the time he's taking, he does know how to thrust deeply, hitting all the right spots that set off sparks in your brain. Soon, it's no longer enough for either one of you and he starts speeding up, still managing to ignite the fireworks inside of you.
Then suddenly, he pulls all the way out and instantly you feel bereft, mewling pitifully at the loss. He shushes you with a caress to your burning cheeks. It's a very soft, sweet gesture, the first none sexual one since this little dirty lunch break started.
"You'll like this, I promise." He murmurs.
Then he lets the entire length of his rock hard erection slide over your swollen nub, from the oozing tip of his swollen mushroom head to his tight balls and, excruciatingly slow, all the way back.
He's right, it's unbelievable. You groan in pleasure as another flow of wetness rushes down your legs. He pushes back in and you swear he fills you even deeper.
He repeats this little game twice more. You're wailing, whimpering and shaking uncontrollably. The third time he does this, you know you're going to come harder than ever before. When the tip of his swollen member hits your bud, it's a done deal.
Yelping and shuddering like you're in the middle of an earthquake, you feel your orgasm course through you hard and fast. At exactly that moment, Wade pushes himself back and with a gasp, immediately finds his own release, pouring all he has inside of you in a series of wild spurts. The feeling of your contacting walls milking him enhances the pleasure still flowing through your entire body and you shake and pant in ecstasy for what feels like many, many minutes.
Slowly, the quivering subsides and you just lie there, trying to get your ragged breathing under control. Wade, also still heaving, pulls away from you, hoists up his underwear and pants and wobbles over to the sink. You hear the tabs running and wonder if he feels like he needs to clean himself up. It's a disturbing and sobering thought that he should want to get rid of the evidence of you liaison this fast. Is he ashamed of you? Or himself?
A startling fact brings you crashing down, almost literally.
Vivian. Wade's with Vivian. Your cousin.
He's just become a cheater again, doing exactly what you were trying to warn her for. Only, you're the very willing accomplice. You're the other woman this time.
Oh, the Gods of irony are having a field day now. At your expense.
The tabs are closed. Wade returns to you with some wet paper towels in his hand. Only then do you detect the stickiness still coating your legs. In the cold, harsh reality it's very embarrassing and you're suddenly grateful for this silent thoughtfulness.
You stretch out your hand to take the towels from him, but he ignores it. Instead, he reaches between your thighs and with infinite tenderness, almost reverence, starts wiping the goo from thighs. The wet cloth is lukewarm and soothing against the raw skin but you don't think you deserve this kind of attention. He was wrong to do this with you and you…well, you should have just pushed him away when he came in. You should have made sure your door really was shut!
This was unforgivable from the both of you and you don't know how you can ever look Vivian in the eye again. Not to mention Wade.
Wade, who, so far, has remained perfectly silent, except for the small encouragements during your… you really want to be able to call it lovemaking, but you know better.
"Wade?"
You're not even sure what to say next, you only know you need him to look at you, whether to reassure you or to simply get over the awkwardness and into whatever comes after that. Eventually, he does look up, one hand still clutching the crumpled up, soggy towels.
"You regret this already, don't you Zoe?"
He knows you too well, it's no use denying his accusation. Still, it stings and you lash out in anger. It's not like you're the only one who should be regretting this!
"Oh and you don't?"
"Should I?"
Furious now, you pick up your discarded panties and shorts and yank them back on. How dare he come of this cocky, as if he's a prized stud who has a natural birth right to hump as many mares as he can? You actually thought he'd changed for the better these last few months. Oh well, the leopard and his spots, right?
Oh, and the pot calling the kettle black too. Let's not forget your own role in this little melodrama.
"Yes, of course you should! Damn it, Wade, you're in a relationship with my cousin!"
"Was. I was in a relationship. And how about you, Doc? Heard from Joel lately? Shouldn't you have been calling his name in this little fantasy of yours?"
What does he mean, he was in a relationship? And what's he going on about Joel for? Did you miss something?
"You and Vivian…"
"Broke up last week. Too many dates spoiled by her son. One fight. Things got said. Anyway, we decided we'd better quit while we were not throwing furniture at each other."
He shrugs.
"So technically, I wasn't the one cheating here. I'm a free man and I have no reason to be ashamed of myself. As for you and Joel…"
"Joel's in New York screwing his new female publicist. I found out they were sharing a room when she picked up his cell phone."
"So?"
"At two AM?"
"Point taken."
"Anyway, he admitted it straight away when I pushed him for answers. He's not coming back, I'm sending him his stuff by mail."
"So…I haven't been cheating and neither have you."
"I guess."
He rubs his neck in a nervous gesture. It's achingly familiar and kind of unnerving to see him looking so young and vulnerable.
"Question is still valid, though…are you regretting…this?"
You think hard. With no Vivian or Joel to consider, there is no real reason to be ashamed of what has just happened, yet…it's not quite that easy. With you and Wade, nothing ever is.
"No…and yes, I mean…"
He gives a tired, weary sigh, like he's been expecting you to backtrack or to at least, not be clear about your feelings. Again, he knows you too well.
"Fine, you know what Zoe? We scratched an itch. Blame it on the heat, or the sparks or whatever you want to blame it on this time. Just…don't start getting all weird about it okay?"
He's already on his way to the door when you know you have to stop him.
"Wade, I…please. Don't go like this. I don't want to rehash this for the next weeks trying to figure out what the hell this was and means or doesn't mean. It makes me go crazy."
"Then what is it you want from me Zoe? Because the way I see it, we've tried everything. From relieving tension to casually monogamous to kind of dating to real boyfriend/girlfriend. And we got horribly stuck with everything. And before you say it, I know most of that was my doing. Which I still regret every single day. But I can't…"
He slumps down on a chair, suddenly looking worn out and tired. Defeated even.
"I can't walk out of this room thinking this was yet another Wade Kinsella fuck-up. I should have thought about that before I came in just now, but I guess, well…"
A rueful laugh escapes you. Neither one of you was thinking with your brains. Lust took over and he's not to blame for that. On occasion, the pot realizes its own blackness before throwing accusations at the kettle.
"Either way, if you regret this still and don't want anything to happen, I get it. I never assumed anything else and nobody will hear a single thing about your little indiscretion with your cheating ex-boyfriend. Again. Just …please at the very least allow me to walk away without my head hanging down. Co-own some of the blame for this, Zoe."
It's time for you to come clean now. About your own hopes and expectations. About everything.
"Wade…what we did wasn't wrong. There is nobody to blame and no reason to feel guilty. I don't regret it because of that. We hurt nobody else here, but I still thought you were committed to another and you thought the same of me. Now that we've cleared that up, that's no longer a reason to regret it."
"But you still do."
It's a simple statement, yet the words seem stuck in his throat.
"For a part, but not for the reason you think. I'm not ashamed of falling for you again, or more accurate, for never falling out of love with you. Part of me, a part I denied to myself for way too long, was always hoping we would someday find our way back together, but then I met Joel and you met Vivian and that was practically the end of the hope.
But not of the dreams. Those dreams I kept to myself, they were nobody's business but my own and trying to make them come true would have hurt too many people, but I clung to them, because they were all I had left. Do you…do you want to know what I dreamed of most?"
He swallows convulsively, before nodding. You too have to get rid of the lump in your throat and mimic his action.
"The Christmas we got together. That moment you kissed me, picked me up. The way you pronounced those words 'come here' and made me feel the most cherished person in the world. We were perfect then and I couldn't stop dreaming about that night."
He nods with another small smile and you can tell he agrees it was the most perfect night of your lives.
"So when you ask me what I want, I want that night. The feeling, the safety, the certainty that a bartender and a doctor are not the strangest thing that can happen and that we can and will make it work…and that's the reason what we just did feels…"
"Like A+ sex?"
He smirks now, obviously unable to mask a hint of smugness at his abilities.
"Hell, yeah. But…I guess I pictured our reconciliation a bit more romantic."
He veers up from his chair and approaches you. His hand cups your face and he bends over you to place the softest kiss on your lips.
"Reconciliation? Really?"
You nod. It might not have been the reunion you had pictured, but somehow it doesn't really matter.. The only thing that matters is that you can't simply discard this afternoon as an itch that was very thoroughly and satisfactory scratched. It was a start of something new. It was sloppy and messy and in true Zoe-Wade style, which means it isn't picture perfect to most, but it fits your picture perfectly. You've learned a thing or two about changing pictures too here in Bluebell.
He kisses you again, wiping away a stray tear.
"It won't be easy, Doc."
"I know."
"I might stumble again."
"I'll keep you steady."
"I might hurt you."
"I'll take my chances."
"We'll fight. A lot."
"Probably. No, certainly. Will I get cookies when we make up?"
"You hate my cookies. What about make-up sex?"
"Sounds good too."
"So…we're really gonna try this?"
"Yes."
He grins, the beautiful smile only reserved for you. He picks you up with a softly whispered 'come here' and a shudder runs down your back.
"Merry Christmas, Zoe Hart."
You smile. Christmas seems to have come early this year.
THE END
So…leave a review please, after cooling down, that is…