She's typing her English paper on her laptop, nimble fingers painted a Tiffany blue dancing across the keyboard effortlessly. Her hair is tied in a messy bun on the top of her head, curls spilling across her forehead, bouncing from one side to the other as she tilts her head in thought.
She looks up at him on her bed and he's caught staring, but he can't help it because she's biting her lip, and he can't help but remember what happened the last time when he bit her lip and she rubbed her legs up and down and up and down his calf; and her tongue, oh her tongue.
She blinks, and she must have been sitting still for too long because all of a sudden, Gabriella is launched unceremoniously on her bed, trapped beneath Troy's shoulders, his abdomen, his legs, and oh god, everything in between. She becomes acutely aware of, but not exactly prepared for, what he has in mind, but then she shifts her body and realizes that he is already hard, so achingly hard that it is making the heat between her legs tremble with anticipation.
His big hands fumble with her hair tie, eventually releasing her dark tresses from their constraints as they cascade down her lean shoulders, tickling his chest. He looks down at her and fuck, she's gorgeous, in her white cotton jersey dress and eager eyes. He likes the way the afternoon sun casts golden rays around them like a halo, but decides he likes seeing her spread out beneath him, debauched and perfect, even better. It's been far too long since he's gotten to see her like this because of SATs and college applications and midterms, and he hadn't realized that he had missed it this much until right here, right now.
She reaches up into his hair, pulling his mouth hungrily to her own lips, yielding and pliant. His tongue explores her mouth languidly, sucking on her lower lip. She still tastes like the gingerbread they've stolen from his mother's delicate gingerbread house and the molten hot chocolate they chased it with. He sighs contentedly, and his mouth lavishly trails across her jaw, down her neck, layering fiery kisses all over her body, as her shaking fingers struggle to unbutton his flannel shirt.
She soon succeeds, slipping it off of his shoulders, and he slides one hand underneath her dress and he realizes that oh, fuck, fuck, fuck, she's not wearing any underwear. "Are you trying to kill me?" he groans in a hoarse whisper, and he squeezes her bottom, pressing her pelvis closer to his growing erection. She moans and wraps her legs around his torso, rocking her hips sensually against his. She throws her head back and her breaths are coming out in fervent, short pants, and god, if she makes that sound again, I swear I'll die.
Her skin is silk and smooth and slick, and he runs his hands up, up, to remove her dress and bra in one quick, brusque motion, and runs them down, down, to hold her hips in place. "You drive me mad. Every single inch of you," he growls into her ear, licking it. She groans and seeks to remove his jeans, leaving him only in his boxers, the material tenting impressively in front.
"Please, Troy," she whimpers against his neck, hips jerking against his body. "Oh, please."
"Fuck, Gabriella," he practically begs as his hands caress the skin in between her thighs. His fingers dance across her legs, past course hair and into her unbearable, pulsing heat. When his mouth catches a hardened nipple, rubbing and licking and sucking it, Gabriella is thrown into a frenzy, rocking her hips against his fingers erratically. Her fingers grip his broad shoulders, pulling him as close to her as possible.
The fire in her blood is agonizing and she reaches in between their slick bodies to yank away the material that had been the only thing blocking him from her completely. His eyes immediately lock onto hers, and her swollen lips and messy hair and steamy eyes were enough to drive him up the wall. "Tell me what you want," he pleads hoarsely, following the curves of her body with his hands, as he bites back a groan, knowing that there was nothing in their way, anymore.
"I want--" she pants against his forehead, feeling his erection at the tip of her heat. "Oh god, please, I want you." And then her hands are everywhere at once, around his shoulders, in his hair, across his chest, and within a moment, he thrusts into her. She's hot and tight and wet and shit, he's positive that this feeling of euphoria was in every single corner of the room because it was so fucking overwhelming and hazy, and he couldn't decipher where his body ended and Gabriella's began.
Their hips firmly rock against each other, desperately moving faster and faster and harder and harder; they both cry out at the friction but Troy still plunges in and out as their burning bodies cannot get enough of this sensation, this feeling spreading through his body like fire, oh god, oh god don't stop. Their naked bodies meet each other halfway with each movement, and yet he still craves her like nothing else. He rubs his middle finger against her mound just the way she liked it, feeling himself moving in and out of her, and taking pleasure at her reaction. Somewhere along the way, he decides her moan is the most delightful sound he has ever heard, and so when he slides his finger against her once more and she reacts the same way, he smirks, and does it again for good measure.
He feels her come around him, getting tighter and tighter, (as if that were even possible) and with a few last, hard thrusts, he's there, beautifully and heart-breakingly, too. He feels her legs fall limply around his waist, though her breasts were still swelling up and down. He is panting, just like she is; he can't control himself any longer. She is all limbs as she moves across his body to kiss his chin, affectionately, and he takes her in his arms wishing that this moment could be forever and that they could ignore that they were going away to college on opposite sides of the country next fall.
And with that, he buries his face into her neck, taking in her sweet scent and reveling at how wonderful their sticky and feverish bodies felt together. He breathes in and desperately chokes out those three words that are said too much, but evidently, not enough.
Fin.
-
-
-
Mm, Snow Patrol. Somewhat companion to Rush, but it shouldn't really matter, regardless. Just felt like writing something sexy. ;D
And, hey! Yes, I'm alive. Speaking of Rush, I'll get more drabbles up for that soon, and another chapter of Grapevine, too, I promise, because I'm done with college apps and have nothing more to do than be a lazy senior who skips class, okay?
Thanks and kudos to anyone who reads this, (and if anyone's looking for a beta, check out my profile because I'm so completely willing to help out). I hope everyone has a happy holiday and a happy new year; and please, please be safe! Lots of X's and O's.