Just a one-shot I've worked on in the attempt to work through some writer's block. It's labeled Edward/Bella but it could really be anyone.

This is my original material, I don't want it translated and I don't want it stolen, so please don't take it.

Also, feel free to review and let me know what you think.

The air was warm-but then it always was in the old building, even in the dead of winter. The rooms on the third floor had been purposeless until the library decided to make them study corrals. Why was anybody's guess-the trouble one had to go through to get one was just about enough to keep anyone from bothering. They were incredibly private though.

The girl was wearing a bright red wool coat against the December gloom. Red was her favorite color. Her long dark hair was pulled back in pigtails. She knew it was juvenile and that it, along with the fact she couldn't be bothered with makeup this late in the semester, made her look closer to 16 rather the 26 of which she was only a few weeks shy.

He was already there, having dealt with the library trolls and completed the veritable act of Congress required for reserving the dingy study room. His jeans were well worn and the casual manner in which he presented himself fooled many into dismissing him.

They had been dancing around the sexual tension for weeks. He would ask deliberately provocative questions of a sexual nature and she would shop online for lingerie when she knew he was looking over her shoulder. Their banter had come to a head during a rather surprising bout of text messages a few days before. Strangely enough, neither expected it of the other but had been pleasantly surprised and distracted for the entire afternoon. The girl thought it was a silly, onetime thing. He remained silent on the topic.

They pretended to study for about fifteen minutes. The girl decided to put on music, claiming the silence was irritating. He seemed intent on only studying one thing: her.

She had worn a shirt that kept slipping off her should and provided a healthy glimpse of her cleavage. She had worn it on purpose and was pretty sure he knew it. He took every opportunity to enjoy the view provided by her choice in fashion and was pretty sure she knew it.

She took off her shoes; she was wearing red striped socks. She poked him in the leg with her toe when she wanted to make a point. WIth this simple breach of personal space the rules shifted; she, who maintained a somewhat untouchable air, signaled that her body was no longer off limits.

He knew she liked the manipulation of language, the twisting and turning of words, double entendre and puns. He used it to his advantage, seducing the smart girl through her brain. He continued asking the pointed questions, questions many would feel to be too intrusive for someone who was, basically, a stranger. She was a formidable foe, always considering her response before she gave it, trying not to reveal too much while still revealing quite a bit. The conversation was a mental burlesque, sharing glimpses while keeping most out of view.

She excused herself for a snack. When she returned his chair was shifted slightly closer than when she had left. She didn't mention the new development.

His interrogation continued, his dark stare making her unsettled. Her heart was beating faster, her arousal showing in the blush spreading over her skin. She bit her lip at one question and shook her head-no, too personal.

He considered what he knew of her and told her to write it down. Again she shook her head-she did have limits.

Third time's the charm-she hoped he didn't notice her hand shaking as she wrote.

When he read it, his eyebrows raised but he wasn't surprised. He knew she was no blushing virgin, however successfully she may play the part when the occasion called for it.

He moved behind her-her body was as taut as a drum, her tension almost palpable. He whispered in her ear-did he realize how sensitive that part of her neck was?

Again, she shook her head and continued to pretend to study. Honestly, her mind was going a million miles a minute but concentration was impossible. She could still feel his presence behind her. He touched her bare shoulder and dragged his finger to her collarbone-apparently she had soft skin.

He sat back down and allowed her to pretend for a while. She would glance in his direction and he would just be staring-she see that he was as aroused as she was. He said he was ready to go, that he wasn't really learning anything. She wasn't ready to part his company so she pretended to be moving out of the way while staying quite underfoot. A few times she bent to pick something up, showing not only the established view down her shirt, but also allowing the red lace thong she was wearing to peek out of her jeans. When she stood up he was too close for simple study partners. His hand brushed her breast and she pretended not to notice. He pressed himself against her, purposely placing his hand on her breast, something she couldn't ignore, and whispered a compliment in her ear.

She froze. There were so many things she wanted to do, but so many things holding her back.

He stepped back, recognizing rejection for what it was. She stepped with him, pressing herself back against him-fuck the consequences.

He dropped his bag and sat down, bringing her with him. His breath was in her ear, tickling her neck, adding to the wetness in her jeans. His hand slide from her hip, over her ass, to between her legs-the damp heat that he could feel through denim was enough to make him hard, had he not already been. The hand curved over her thigh and wrapped around the back of it, pulling her closer still.

Her heart was beating so fast it sounded like a hummingbird's wings to her ears. She was so hot, a combination of the damn old building and the games they had played for two hours. For her it had been two hours of foreplay and she didn't want to forego the main event.

She straddled his leg, the inferno between her own coming into contact with his thigh and causing her to breathe harder. She did what she had told-or more accurately, wrote-him that she wanted, and rubbed her pussy along his leg, causing just enough friction to fan the flames.

His hard on strained against his jeans and she, ever multitalented, stroked it while grinding against his thigh. His hand snaked up the back of her shirt and popped the clasps of her bra; it was strapless and he threw it across the room.

Her breasts were freed and her slightly erect nipples pushed against the thin fabric of her shirt. He manipulated one through the material, teasing it until it stood out at a tight point. This done, he took the other in his mouth, still over her shirt, and pinched it with his teeth. She made a noise, something between a whine and a whimper, and he took the occasion to whisper a reminder of their location and the need to remain quiet. It was at this moment he realized she was no longer riding his leg; she had unbuttoned her pants and slipped her free hand inside. His hand joined hers and she was no longer upset his mouth had left her nipples.

She was hot, and slick-he passed his fingers over her clit and she jerked, biting her lip so as to not make a sound. She was standing between his legs and he pushed her jeans down over her hips. He moved the fabric of her red thong and slipped his fingers inside her wet and willing body.

She grabbed his shoulders and threw her head back, still silent. Her new position shoved her breasts in his face and he pushed her shirt up to allow better access. She was moving her hips into his hand and she reached down to touch her clit the way she liked as she stepped out of her jeans.

She pulled away from him and leaned down to unzip his jeans-his dick sprang free like a newly released convict. She bent over and licked the tip like an ice cream cone before sucking the whole thing into her mouth. He mentally thanked whatever was out there for her lack of gag reflex when he felt the tip hit the back of her throat. She maintained suction while as she moved off of it then took a long lick back down the underside before spinning her tongue around it and sucking it back in her mouth.

This time she grabbed it in her hand and whispered the magic word in his ear. A condom was produced from somewhere, put on, and she sank all the way down until he was completely enveloped by her. Her head was bent, her forehead resting on his still clothed shoulder, while she rotated her hips back and forth, side to side, inching closer and closer to the ultimate goal. His lips were on that spot under her ear, moving, saying words that she didn't have the brain power to understand at that moment.

He licked his finger and placed it against her clit, mimicking her previous attentions. He felt her pussy grip him even more snugly than she already was and she once again threw her head back sliently, her fingernails digging into his shoulders. Her movements stopped and he asked her a question-she nodded.

He lifted her off him, stood up and turned her around; she bent over and grabbed the edges of the table. His dick was once again inside her and he was thrusting into her quickly, becoming more and more desperate with his movements. He could tell she was rubbing her clit and could feel that she was about to come. He slapped her on the ass and felt her become wetter. He continued, making sure to not make too much noise, but once again felt her come by the time her ass was a nice rosy pink. His tightened his hold on her hips and began pounding into her, more than ready to meet his own orgasm.

The only sound was their heavy breathing. He pulled his jeans back up and told her he would be right back. By the time he finished cleaning up, she was dressed and sitting back in the seat she had occupied almost all afternoon. She looked up at him and blinked innocently. He noticed her face was the same color pink her ass cheeks had been. He sat in the chair he was sitting in while she rode his dick. The room smelled like sex. They both decided that this study room was unacceptable, they were sick of the material, and wanted to go home.