[A/N PLEASE READ:
Ok, now that I've got your attention, let me begin by saying that never in a million years would I have thought I would write hetero fan fiction. Ok. Writing that out makes me seem like a real freak. But moving on….. I wrote this piece for MurderingStar as the prize to the 'Guess that comic book' contest I was running. Unfortunately, I'm an idiot. She wanted PrussiaXFem!Canada and I, in my infinite stupidity, accidentally reversed the genders. -_- MurderingStar, feel free to lynch me at your leisure.
P.S. Writing fem! Pairings is so weird. But I did have a little fun with it.
Please enjoy. Leave a review. Even if I don't get a chance to reply to it, know that I appreciate your patronage!]
XxXxX
"Who could that be?" I murmured aloud as I sat the mixing bowl back onto the counter. Dusting the flour off of the front of my jeans, I walked to the front door. Cautiously, I pulled back the curtains to see who was outside. Better safe than sorry. Unsurprisingly, it wasn't some shady looking stranger. Rather, it was a familiar figure, standing there huffily, waiting for me to answer the door.
I unlocked the door and opened it. Gillian stood there, duffle bag clutched to her chest wearily, as if some cruel force was forcing her to carry her own things rather than spawning a pageboy to do it for her. She blew her bangs out of her eyes long-sufferingly and rolled her eyes good naturedly. As if it was only natural for her to be standing on my front porch on a Friday evening, duffle bag in hand. "Uh, hi," I said softly. "What are you doing here?" I didn't mean it rudely. With Gillian direct questions seemed to get the best results.
"Aren't you going to let me in," she retorted, heaving her bag up a little to get a better grip. "My arms are tired from fencing practice and this bag feels so heavy." Without waiting for a response Gillian waltzed into my house, barging right past me. She dropped her bag onto the floor with a thump and stretched her arms above her head, sighing in relief. "I was just thinking the other day," Gillian remarked, "about how when we were kids, six years old if that, and our mothers would set up sleepovers. Didn't we have fun, Mattie? I miss that. So when I heard your parents were going to be out of town for a week I knew this would be the perfect time to fulfill my fondest wish."
Oh no. I didn't like the sound of this. Was she really saying what I thought she was saying? "I'm spending the weekend," she finished, as usual, not asking permission, rather, stating a fact.
"What," I croaked. There was no way. No way in hell. If my parents found out they would violently murder me. We're talking disembowelment here. Beheading with a rusty officer's sword. Tied between two horses then stretched until I'm ripped in half.
Having a young lady over for an unsupervised weekend visit would make my parents very, very angry to say the least.
"Aw," Gillian said, blowing me off. "C'mon. They'll never find out. Really, now. Aren't they in Canada by now? You think they're going to suddenly show up five days earlier than expected? Where's your sense of adventure, Mattie? As thrills go this is pretty low on the badassery scale."
"What about your parents," I said pointedly. It was a stupid thing to say and I immediately regretted it.
"What about them," Gillian remarked casually. Too casually. When she spoke about her parents it was always in a vague, cool sort of way. "My father is on a "business trip," aka, escaping from the family he feels overburdened by. And my mom? We'd be lucky if she remembers to turn the oven off when she takes a trip to the liquor store, let alone worrying that she might get up to a complex task like wondering where I am. Ludwig? Fuck him. He can mind his own damned business."
My knee jerk reaction was to say 'I'm sorry' but I quickly bit the words off. From experience I knew that any glimmer of pity would make Gillian angry. I searched for something to say instead. Nothing was coming to me. I began racking my brain frantically until I was distracted by a smell. "Oh!" I exclaimed. "My pancakes!" Gillian giggled in amusement at my panic and I raced into the kitchen.
"Merde," I muttured. "All of them. Ruined. I set the skillet back down on the stove with a distasteful thud. "That was the last of my batter," I commented, turning towards Gillian, who was hovering in the doorframe of the kitchen.
"Well, let's make some more," Gillian said confidently, as if she were successfully answering a question considerably more profound than the one at hand.
"I used the last of the dry mix," I said, "but I suppose we could make some more from scratch."
"Get the shit for pancakes," Gillian commanded. "I'll get the beer."
"I don't think—" I began to object, but she was already gone.
XxXxX
"No, Gillian, you can't smash the eggs on the side of the bowl like that. You're getting little pieces of shell into the batter." I explained patiently. I knew from home ec class that she was no good at cooking. Gillian lacked the patience. She would scald soups by turning the burner up too high and bake cookies with lumps of flour in them for lack of attention to mixing.
"Ok, ok," she said, backing away from the counter with her hands held out in front of her. "You do the egg crackin' and I'll do the beer drinkin.'" She swung herself up on a stool and took a sip of beer to finalize her point.
I sighed dramatically as I surveyed her innocent expression. Bear with me here. I want to describe something for you. There she was, sitting on that stool. Her hair was pulled messily into a low side pony tail. The top two buttons of her blue button up shirt were slung open carelessly, allowing a pink, lacy cami to peek out. Her blue plaid school uniform skirt rode up her thighs dangerously, becoming quite disheveled and dubious when she had flung herself up on the stool. Of course she didn't sit there with her legs closed and ankles crossed like a lady, but fortunately she was wearing navy shorts underneath. She was wearing hot pink knee high socks and track shoes that clashed painfully with our high school's smart uniform, but then again, she said she had just come from practice. And of course, the beer in her hand.
Do you know what the call girls like her? A hot mess. Jailbait. Lolilta. Nymphet. In short, trouble waiting to happen.
And the worst part is, she has me wrapped around her finger. Big fucking surprise.
I just wanted to explain this to you. I just wanted to make sure you understood why making her pancakes was going to rapidly dissolve into me allowing her to stay the weekend, fully against my better judgment. It's all one slippery slope, my friend.
XxXxX
"Make sure you put chocolate chips in them," Gillian said, hopping down from the stool and coming to supervise me as I heated the skillet and coated the bottom lightly with butter. When I opened the little tin my mom kept the chocolate chips in only three little chips rattled along the bottom. We should have another bag somewhere. Probably behind all of the spices in the cupboard above the stove.
Standing on my tippy toes I still couldn't really reach the back of the cupboard. I could feel my fingertips just ghosting over the crisp edge of the bag. I could imagine the yellow packaging and little see-through window where you could watch the chocolate morsels rattle around the bag. I could see it setting up there in my mind, smirking as it eluded me. "Here," Gillian said. I found myself caught between the stove and Gillian's body as she reached over me. She pressed her body against mine as she stretched herself to reach the bag. I was hyper aware of her breasts pressing high against my back and her hips ghosting over my lower back as she stood on her tippy toes. Her skin brushed mine as her hands followed my arm like a trail. Finally I felt her fingertips pass over mine and heard the crumple of the plastic as she successfully pinched the edge of the bag.
"Got it," she said quietly, her mouth just above my ear. The situation caught me by surprise and I had to use all of my will power to keep my body from shivering in excitement. Then she was gone, toting the bag triumphantly over her head. I was left there in a daze, unsuccessfully trying to stay the blush creeping up my face.
Gillian didn't notice or pretended she didn't notice my reaction. She was busy pouring too much batter into the pan and raining a handful of chocolate chips over it. "Can't we turn the burner up," she asked impatiently as we waited for the batter to being to set.
"No, you'll burn it. Can't you be patient for once?" I jokingly chided.
"I can be patient. As long as I get what I want," she said, searching the drawers for a spatula. She finally found one and used it to flip the pancake. "Oh, come on," she said, looking annoyed as I hovered around her, supervising her cooking. "I can flip pancakes without screwing anything up. Go make yourself useful and get me another beer out of my duffle bag."
"You know I don't like it when you drink," I said in my best Mattie-knows-best voice. Which, I must admit, I have to use quite often around Gillian.
"I don't say anything about you smoking dope, do I?" she retorted.
"What," I squeaked. "I don't—"
"Don't bullshit me," she interjected. "Francis let the cat slip out of the bag at fencing practice the other day. I know you buy your shit from him."
I could feel the heat simply rolling off of my face. I'm not a violent guy but I'd sure like to deck Francis right about now. "Don't look so put out," Gillian said, as she glanced away from the pancakes for a moment. "I don't care if you light up. As long as you don't turn into a fucking stoner, anyways."
"I won't—I don't," I scrambled weakly.
"Besides," she continued over top of me. "I think it's kinda cute. Our innocent little Mattie is quietly rebelling. He smokes, he brings women over for the weekend when his parents are out of town. What sort of debauchery can we get you into next?"
"I never said you could stay," I said forcefully, trying to take control of the conversation.
"Can I stay, Mattie, please?" Gillian asked innocently. I really cannot fathom why she wants to stay the weekend so bad. Maybe things were particularly bad at home? I weighed my desire to make Gillian happy against the fear that my parents will come home early and kill their firstborn son.
"Against my better judgment," I began, only to be interrupted by Gillian whooping and punching a fist in the air.
"That's a yes," she said triumphantly. By now she had a pretty impressive stack of pancake-age going. Most of them even looked edible. All except that burned one I saw her try to hide in between two perfectly golden brown pancakes.
XxXxX
It was such a nice evening out that we decided to eat our pancakes on the back porch. By this time the autumn light was low and we had a spectacular view of the setting sun. Gillian passed me the bottle of maple syrup and I smothered my pancakes. We talked quietly in between bites. Gillian told me about her day, gesturing wildly at some points, as she is wont to do.
It was nice, being alone with her. I can't remember the last time me and her talked. I mean really talked. We've grown apart over the last few years, to say the least. She's busy with her sports and her friends and her whatever else it is that girls do and I've been busy with school and—and being lame. Let's face it. I'm not the most interesting guy in the world.
Which is why I don't begrudge Gillian for letting me fall out of her life. But she's here now and that's what counts, right?
XxXxX
We sat in silence after awhile, pancakes long gone. Gillian amused herself by drawing swirls in the layer of syrup coating the plate. Occasionally she would lick some off of the fork.
The last fingers of light were slowly fading into the gray of twilight and the crickets were humming intimately. Gillian sat the plate to the side, apparently tired of messing in the syrup. She slid closer, until our shoulders were touching. I tilted my head towards her inquisitively and she brought her hand up to steady my cheek. Before I could even react her mouth was on mine.
I wondered if I had slipped into some sort of daydream, lulled into a drowsy sort of safety by the cozy sunset. Surely this couldn't be happening in real life.
But I could feel the stickiness of the syrup impeding the slick glide of our lips. I could feel Gillian's breath gliding over my cheeks and the firm press of her nose against my own. I concluded that this must be reality. This must be happening.
What the hell is happening?
Gillian's lips left mine with a pop but she let her face linger near mine. "What was that for," I asked in a hushed tone. "I like you," Gillian replied simply. "I like you a whole bunch. You're a nice boy, Mattie. Do you like me too?"
"Y-yes," I stuttered.
"Good," Gillian said softly. "I love your expression right now," she added. "That look of wide-eyed innocence. I want to be the one to take it. I can't stand the thought of it being anyone else but me."
I didn't trust myself to speak. I didn't trust my luck either.
Gillian didn't need an answer. She simply swung her lean legs over me, so that she was straddling my lap. She draped her arms over my shoulders and looked down at me with a smirk. "Well?"
"Well," I squeaked, ever so manly. "Now I see why you wanted to spend the night."
"Are you in or not," she said, losing patience.
"Hell yes," I said without hesitation. I may be a nice guy but that doesn't mean I'm any less horny than any other teenage boy in existence.
XxXxX
We at least had the good sense to go inside before the neighbors caught us necking. "I'll meet you upstairs," Gillian said. I just about fell up the stairs trying to do as I was told. Once I was in my room I sat on my bed for want of anything better to do.
Oh yes, I was quite nervous. This was all happening so fast. I felt like I was taking it in stride, though, considering the circumstances. I like to think that I'm a pretty roll-with-it guy.
Make no mistake about it; I know that I wasn't Gillian's usual type of guy. Like I said before, she's so alluring, so beautiful. She has every guy in school after her. But we've known each other since we were kids. I guess that counts for something. I guess I'd like to think of this as a victory for all of the 'stuck-in-the-friend-zone' nice guys out there. But don't mind me if I celebrate without you.
XxXxX
I didn't wait much longer before Gillian slipped into my bedroom, closing the door behind her. She sauntered towards me, confident as ever, walking towards my bed like she owned the place. Stopping just a few steps in front of me, she gave me a long, flickering look. Gillian may not own the place but she sure as hell owned me. She always had. Ever since we were kids. I can't even tell you the number of times I'd got in trouble for playing along with whatever shenanigans she'd conjured up.
Gillian had let her hair down. It lay smooth and silkily, seductively even as it bound over her shoulders. She looked older than seventeen. Much older. I wondered if she used her pointed looks to sneak drinks past bartenders. Nonsense. When pretty girls walk into bars they don't buy their own drinks.
Feeling a bit of confidence in myself, I stood up, choosing to meet Gillian instead of waiting for her to come to me. Oh yes, I was scared, frightened out of my mind with all of the ways I could mess this up but at this moment I didn't care. For the first time in my life I had exactly what I wanted in front of me and I was willing to take it.
I was taller than Gillian, but just barely. Were we really going to do this? I wondered. Our faces hovered inches apart. Gillian met my eyes but didn't move her face any closer. It was up to me to close the distance. Put up or shut up, I mused. Do or die, I silently challenged. I put my hands on her shoulders and kissed her clumsily. I was too eager. Our teeth clicked together painfully, pinching our lips uncomfortably. Gillian didn't complain, though, and just kissed me back, adjusting the pressure and the angle to a more pleasurable feel.
I slid one of my hands down, stopping in the dip of her back and pressing her closer to my body. Gillian's lips parted easily and I slipped my tongue into her mouth. I had a little experience kissing girls. Not much, though. Still, I kept pace as best as I could, rolling my tongue over hers, tracing the roof of her mouth, tasting her. Her mouth was sweet, sweet as maple syrup. That turned me on a little, the familiar taste of something so utterly innocent becoming new and seductive in a way I never would have thought possible.
Our kiss was becoming feverish and suffocating. We had to break it off before we smothered. Gillian's mouth hung near my ear, panting sexily against my neck. I walked backwards towards the edge of my bed, pulling her along with me. When had my hand migrated down to her ass? I wondered dizzily. I sat down, pulling her on top of me easily.
I allowed Gillian to push me onto my back. She pinned my wrists above my head, hovering over my body with that smirk of hers. She started kissing my neck and I reflected that it was a rather jocular thing to do. I may not have much experience but I'm pretty sure neck kissing was the man's job. She had time to flick her tongue out and lick my neck before I slipped out of her grip and rolled us over. Now she was pinned under me. Gillian raised an eyebrow at this juxtaposition and the tilt of her mouth seemed to say well, you got me where you wanted but now what are you going to do to keep me here?
Slyly, Gillian slipped a thigh between my legs. With my gasp came a shameless flush upon my cheeks. I was already hard and I hadn't even touched her tits yet. What a virgin move. Gillian must have read the look on my face because she reached up to touch my cheek gently. "It's ok. I think it's cute how exited you are. Makes me feel appreciated for once."
"I do appreciate you," I said, frowning. "You're beautiful Gillian. Beautiful and funny and fun to be around."
"Well thanks," she said with a wry smile. "I don't usually get complements from boys. At least, not after they've gotten me in bed."
"So why do you do it then. If you know they're jerks." This was probably the most awkward time to start such an awkward conversation. Why couldn't I just shut my big, fat mouth? Gillian chuckled. "I don't know about you, but I find introspection to be quite a boner killer. Why don't you cut the chit chat and take my shirt off?"
Can't argue with a lady, can you? I sat back and Gillian propped herself up on her elbows. I removed her shirt and then my own for good measure. I was a little hasty pulling my shirt off and I had to pause to fix my glasses. Oh wow. Gillian's torso came into focus and it was not disappointing. Her stomach was flat, smooth, and pale.
Ok. I'll be honest. I've taken a moment or two out of my day before to imagine Gillian naked. I've always imagined her belly button to be pierced and her stomach to be tan from hours of lounging out in the sun. The reality was better for some reason. So sexy in its unexpected, unblemished form. Knowing that she didn't wear a bikini made her torso seem more private somehow. It made me feel more privileged for getting to see it. Yeah, ok. My mind works in strange ways, I know. I know.
I kissed the smooth expanse of her stomach greedily, my earlier hesitance forgotten. I touched her breasts for the first time, chuckling to myself a little as I realized how absurd it was that I was only now getting around to feeling them. Gillian sighed languidly as I massaged her flesh. I tried to work my hands around her back to unhook her bra but Gillian said, "It hooks in front, Mattie."
My cheeks felt warm again. I unhooked the front without comment. It was so painfully obvious that I didn't have a damned idea what I was doing. I didn't want Gillian to see the embarrassed flush on my face so I dipped my head to suck at the skin of her chest. It was an unexpected move even to me. Gillian sure didn't expect it though, if her surprised gasp was any indication. I gave her breast an open mouthed kiss, enjoying the way her flesh tasted and felt.
My mouth found her nipple and I set to work on it with my tongue, hoping that I was doing the right thing. Gillian drew in a long breath and arched her back under me. I took that as a good sign. I rubbed my hands over her other breast, satisfied with the feel of her other nipple hardening under my touch.
I didn't want to dawdle at her breasts too long as there were other parts of Gillian that I had yet to touch. I moved up her chest, leaving kisses on her collarbone as I went. I stopped to nibble at her neck, and then kiss it lightly.
Her hands roamed smoothly over my back. My skin tingled as Gillian lightly raked her nails back and forth. She let her hands fall down to grip my sides as I kissed her just under the ear.
Suddenly, I was very impatient. I couldn't tell if it was Gillian's increasingly ragged breath or the uncomfortable feeling of my pants suppressing my erection that was driving me over the edge. But I didn't really care enough to stop and think it out. I latched onto Gillian's mouth once more while beginning to fumble with her pants. To my credit I was eventually able to get them open. With shaking hands I started pulling them down. Gillian lifted her hips to ease the process. Unfortunately, this also caused her to bump into my aching erection. I gasped audibly and shivered. Get yourself under control, I thought, grinding my teeth. Like hell am I going to cream my jeans. I'd die of embarrassment and sheer disappointment.
Proceeding more cautiously now, I peeled my own jeans off. I was too relieved to be rid of the fabric to feel any embarrassment. When I turned my attention back to Gillian I realized that she was now totally naked. I must have hooked her underwear too when I pulled of her pants. Unless…. Unless she wasn't wearing any to begin with.
I searched Gillian's face, unsure of where to go from here. In theoretical terms I knew what came next, but practically speaking? Forget it.
"Wait," Gillian said, I instantly deflated. She twisted a little under me, snagging the rim of her jeans that had been carelessly thrown on the floor. She pulled something from the pocket and showed it to me. "I don't know how to put one of those on," I said, starting to panic.
"Don't worry," Gillian said, placing a hand on my chest to calm me. "I've done this a time or two. Sit back and let me do the work."
I hissed at her touch on my erection. Don't cum, don't cum, don't cum," I silently chanted with my eyes shut tightly. I wish I could focus on the touch, to revel on the feel of her warm, nibble fingers caressing me but I could tell I was too close to the edge to entertain such dangerous thoughts. Thankfully it didn't take Gillian long to get the condom on. "Hey," she said, lightly tapping my cheek with her palm, "You gonna make it, big boy?" Her tone was lilting and jocular, all the while issuing a little challenge. To hear her speak in such a familiar tone calmed the hot blood whooshing through my veins.
"You're not trying to diffuse a bomb here. Why are you taking things so damned seriously? At this rate you'll never have any fun," Gillian said.
"I—I," I stuttered.
"You what?" she said slightly mockingly. "Mattie just go with it. If you focus the whole time on what you're doing wrong you're never going to enjoy what you're doing right. You've got me right where you want me," Gillian said, nestling herself into the pillows on my bed. "So why don't you just fuck me already?"
I couldn't help but smile. Gillian smiled back, that same old grin that I've known for ages. I wanted to laugh aloud as all of the tension and expectation drained out of the atmosphere but I contented myself with kissing her one more time. My last kiss as a virgin. But maybe I'm getting a little ahead of myself.
Gillian helped guide me inside of her. Of course I'd imagined sex a million times in my short, adolescent life but even my most elaborate daydream seemed immature and shallow compared to the real thing. For one thing, it was a lot tighter than I imagined. After my first shallow thrust I stopped, sure that I was hurting Gillian. She took the opportunity to wrap her legs around me and slide her hands down to my hips. Her hands guided me, pulling me towards her, giving me permission to continue. We tried to coordinate my clumsy, off timed thrusts with the practiced roll of her hips as best we could. As we continued I caught the rhythm better.
Gillian was panting lightly and femininely with every thrust. That drove me wild. I planted a messy, haphazard kiss that only caught half of her lips then ran my fingers through her hair, careful as I could be to not pull it. "Mattie," she said breathlessly. I moaned in response, unable to take the way her voice conveyed how much she needed me.
"Mattie," Gillian repeated, more forcefully this time. "Oh, yes. Oh, yes. Uh, Mattie keep going."
I could feel my body reacting, coiling so deliciously. I was working up a light sweat, whether it was from exertion or nervousness I didn't know. Gillian's breasts bounced lively along with us, just slightly out of sync with the rest of her body.
"Gillian, Gillian, Gillian," I panted, knowing that I was approaching my climax. Gillian felt my thrusts become jerky and tightened her legs around me. I thrust into her one more time before I came. The orgasm made my arms feel weak. They jellied against my will and I sank onto Gillian's chest, my head falling neatly in the crook of her neck. I lay like that awhile, panting and moaning a little as I felt the last ribbons of my orgasm flow through my body.
She let me lay like that as long as I wanted, running her hands soothingly over my back. Her body suddenly began shaking under me and I realized that she was laughing. "Mattie Williams, you are just too cute. I really like you, kid," she said before kissing my neck.
I probably should have felt offended or emasculated by her amusement but I understood she wasn't patronizing me. I laughed a bit too. Hey, if you couldn't have a good laugh at yourself every now and then you were in for quite a tense existence.
I realized I still hadn't pulled out of Gillian. That caused me a moment of embarrassment. Beginner's mistake. I lifted my hips and tried to be as gentle as possible. Afterwards, I rolled off of her then took her in my arms. Signing contentedly, I buried my head in Gillian's hair. This is the good life, I thought drowsily, planting a kiss on the crown of her head.
Gillian's hands ran down my body. My eyebrows lifted a little as I felt her take a hold of my penis. Round two? I wondered before realizing that she was just stripping the uncomfortable condom off of me. Beginner's mistakes, I chided myself. I couldn't stop the abashed groan from escaping my lips.
Gillian found this exceedingly amusing. She adjusted herself until she was able to look me in the face. I looked back steadily, not sure what she was searching for.
"That look," she said finally, "the one I love? It's still here. Still in your face." I hummed noncommittally.
"Ah, well," Gillian said, finally settling herself against my chest. "Let's see if it can survive the weekend."
I like the way this girl thinks, I thought drowsily.
"Mattie," she said softly.
"Yes, love," I replied sleepily.
"When we wake up will you make pancakes again?"