AN: This takes place sometime between Mash-Up and Mattress.



She told herself that this would work; sleeping with someone else would help her get over him. He was married, having a baby. She needed to stop this flirtation before her resolve weakened.

That time with the chalk was the first moment she really knew something had to be done. It would have been so easy—so easy!—to shift onto her toes, into his body, and kiss him. He wouldn't have pulled away; she could see it in his eyes. His chalky fingers would have been in her hair, on her skin. And she wouldn't have given the chalk a second thought—well, maybe a second thought, but not a third. Not with his lips on hers.

The night after she had wiped the mustard from his chin, she had thought of him while she touched herself (hardly the first time she had done so with him in mind, and not the last), imagining his tongue flicking at her clit instead of the air. His eyes staring into hers as his tongue made such innocently inappropriate gestures had caused her thighs to instinctively clench and create any kind of friction she could. Even Sue's absurd comments couldn't distract her enough; she had still been frustrated the rest of the day, unable to get the image of him out of her mind. She had barely been able to wait until she got home.

There was nothing wrong with a little lust, someone to fantasize about. But after they danced together, she couldn't even attempt to dismiss it as a simple crush anymore. Not after they were pressed together, after he lifted her against him so easily, so gently.

This had to be done. Not with Ken—god, no. She had called a guy she'd dated, briefly. Handsome enough, polite, but he hadn't wanted a serious relationship, so they had stopped seeing each other.

"What were you thinking, dinner?" He'd asked when she called.

"No. Just come over to my place, please." She'd said—quickly, before she could stop herself.

She was stiff, hesitant at first, but once they were kissing, her body took over. She tried not to think of Will, tried to look into this man's eyes, but she knew it was a lost cause. Knew that this had been her true intention all along.

It was Will taking her shirt off, his lips kissing the exposed skin. It was Will's cock straining under his pants, rubbing against her, very nearly getting her off on that alone. It was Will's hair she grasped as he went down on her, his hands gripping her hips, his tongue making her moan with gratitude. That tongue, that same tongue.

She pulled him up to her before she could finish; she wanted this to last. She didn't watch him as he grabbed a condom, rolled it on. She stared at her sheets, white and crisp.

"What do you want, hmm?" He said, returning. He kissed her so that she could taste herself on his lips, rubbed his cock against her slowly. She wrapped her legs around his hips, feeling his tip just barely inside, teasing her. She pulled him closer to her, shoving his head down into her neck.

She thought of Will, of the look on his face when they had stopped dancing.

"I want you," she said. "I want you inside of me."

All of those frustrating moments with him felt worth it as he pushed into her, filling her. She gasped as he went a little too deep. But this was the kind of pain she had wanted, she had asked for.

"God, baby, you feel so good," he said, and she pressed her lips to his, not wanting to hear another voice, see another face, that belonged to anyone other than Will.

He picked up speed, and she moaned against his mouth. He pulled away slightly, pressed a finger to the right place between them. She shut her eyes, clutched her pillow tight in her fists as they moved, fiercely now. It was so close, everything she wanted was so close. It had been building up for so long, this turmoil inside of her. She wanted it so badly, but at the same time wanted this frustration—this want, this need—to last.

She clenched her muscles around him, wanting to know she could make him come, wanting to claim that power. When he groaned loudly, she let herself go, her eyes still clenched tight.

Her hands and lips tingled from their loss of blood. She buried her head against his chest, rubbed his back lightly. She felt his cock getting soft inside her, and he slipped out.

"Please, just stay like this for a bit," she said when he tried to move.

She pulled him closer, needing the weight on top of her, his breath warm against her ear.

After a minute, he drew back and smiled at her. With his own mouth, his own face—not Will's, after all.

"I like you, Emma." He said, almost chuckling, in a voice that wasn't Will's. He kissed her, and she reciprocated almost violently.

Suddenly she was so hungry, so hungry! She felt she had been starving her whole life, and now she was being thrown crumbs. Her eyes ached from their attempt to hold back tears as he let his full weight rest on her, as she crushed her mouth into his; it wasn't enough. He wasn't the one she needed.