WARNING! THIS FIC CONTAINS (some) SPOILERS FOR SCANDAL!
A/N: In lieu of Scandal coming out this week, I've decided to post this little lemon on here. Yes, there is a reason why you saw an M and not a typical T. This was a fun little idea I got while reading Scandal (all due to B&N having Scandal on the shelves by Sunday), so I thought, why not put it up? This is my first lemon, so pardon me if you don't feel all horny afterward. Just kidding. :)
On a side note, my other fanfic, Love Will Tear Us Apart will soon be resurrected from the dead in about a couple of weeks. So if any of you were a fan, hopefully you'll jump from joy. If you don't know what I'm talking about, check it out: it talks about Josh's feelings for Reed, and how his winter break went from Paradise Lost and Suspicion. Scandal will now be joining the list.
Don't forget to review! :) And if you don't feel like reviewing, drop by and tell me what you think about Scandal. I, for one, have a lot to say.
The dark haired beauty was sitting on the muddy floor, oblivious to Noelle's recent disappearance, and feeling like shit despite the fact she told her best friend she was OK about the current drama. She had a little something inside her pocket, but she didn't feel like taking it out right now. She just wanted to relish the pain.
Out in the distance, Ivy heard some soft footsteps. Go away, go away, she chanted. She didn't want anyone to come talk to her.
"So, is this where you hang out when you feel like crap?"
Ivy jumped at the sudden and unexpected voice. She looked up, staring straight into Sawyer Hathaway's handsome face. He looked grim and tired and maybe a little cold. Ivy just shrugged, facing the trees all over again.
She heard Sawyer sit down next to her, and he smelled surprisingly really good. He brought his knees up and hugged them, letting out a long breath. A cool, warm mist came from his lips. He gave a sideways glance at her, but resumed looking out at the trees and sky. A gust of wind swept over, and Ivy shivered. She should have brought her jacket.
"Mad about Reed?"
Sawyer gave a harsh laugh. He paused for a few minutes. "That was really, really bogus. She fooled everyone," he said a bit melancholy. Aw, poor boy got his heart broken. His one true love was now running off with the prince, while Sawyer was stuck as the pauper. Ivy suddenly envisioned Sawyer wearing raggedy clothing, his once preppy sweaters long gone, looking out at the white carriage that was running off to the sunset.
Ivy tried hard not to laugh.
"Why did you let her do that?" Sawyer finally asked. He turned and faced her, his eyes staring at her intently. "Why are you letting them be together?"
Ivy took a sharp breath. In all honesty, she didn't have an exact reason. Sure, her and Josh weren't super in love as him and Reed were, but she really did care for him. She liked the way he tickled her, and the way he would say her name. Josh was nothing but nice to her, and for once, she felt she could finally relax. She realized Josh had never given them a chance. Even when he was mad at Reed, he never tried to actually move on. He had her fooled, to say the least.
"Josh . . . loved her. No matter how hard I tried, it wasn't enough. He wasn't going to change his mind. So I thought fuck it. Why not let them be happy. I don't need to get caught up in stupid Days of Our Lives. I don't want to waste my time on that," she finished. Ivy turned her head to the side, looking at Sawyer. "What's up with you?"
He shrugged and hugged himself tighter. "I-I thought she was different. And she reminded me a lot about my . . . sister. I saved her twice, and she seemed really happy and really grateful. I guess she led me on. I mean, I always thought she was pretty when I first saw her, but I was already messed up about things; I didn't care about girls then." Sawyer paused, Ivy listening with rapt attention. "But then she was being nice and . . . all this nice crap. God, I'm an idiot," he finished. He shook his head.
"Now, that's what I call a fucked up sense of communication. Jesus, she got you hard, didn't she?" Ivy asked, chuckling as she did so. Sawyer joined in the laughter, his worry lines suddenly disappearing. Ivy gazed at him in wonder, thinking she was absolutely awesome when it came to therapy. Go her. She made the brooding boy laugh.
A comfortable silence followed, each sucked in their own thoughts. After some time, Ivy Slade finally got bored. There was a reason why she brought some weed with her.
Gingerly, she took out the small plastic bag from her pocket. She glanced at Sawyer a couple of times. He eventually looked at her, his eyes widening. Ivy smirked, wondering if Virgin Boy had ever seen rolled up weed before. Now fully grinning, she brought the illegal substance to her mouth while digging through her other pocket for a lighter.
Ivy had it within a centimeters distance when Sawyer suddenly asked, "May I?" Ivy gaped at Sawyer, realizing perhaps she was wrong to judge Sawyer as the Virgin Boy on campus. She gave a sly smile through the roll of paper and nodded. Sawyer leaned in, snapped the lighter, got it going in a smooth motion and brought it up to her mouth. One hand protected the light, and he let the flame settle on the paper. Instantly, the weed burned, and Ivy could feel the substance begging to come inside her. She took a long breath, closing her eyes, and savoring the sweetness from it.
When she opened her eyes, she was looking into Sawyer's. He had very nice eyes. They were gray, mixed in with brown. They were an interesting shade. She instantly liked it. Ivy took out the weed from her mouth, casually letting it sink between her fingers. It was taking a while for the effects to settle in.
Very slowly, warm fingers gathered around hers. She glanced at her hand, seeing Sawyer's long ones were grasping the weed. Ivy looked up and frowned at him, seriously wondering where he was getting the idea of smoking weed. Perhaps she should say something; she was being a bad influence on him.
"Sawyer you don't have to-"
Ignoring her, he brought the paper up to his mouth, and took one long puff. He closed his eyes as she did. After an eternity, he released the weed from his mouth. A mischievous look playing on his eyes, he blew the remnants of the substance into Ivy's face. Ivy opened her mouth to gather the smoke, her eyes glinting.
He didn't cough. He didn't sputter. He didn't seem like he was going to choke. In fact, he looked very much in control. Like he knew what he was doing.
Sawyer was now Ivy's best friend.
Now, the effect of the drug was getting to her. Something's were slowed down, and everything else was heightened for some reason. Her heart was suddenly pounding a lot faster, and she could practically hear the rustle of every leaf.
Something was wrong.
"It's getting hot," said Ivy. She tugged her sweatshirt a few times, but it didn't seem to shake off the heat.
Sawyer gave a throaty laugh, his head rolling back. "Motherfucker's laced," he said. He laughed again. "I-I'll bet you its ecstasy. I miss the good old days," Sawyer said. He gazed at the sky dreamily, twisting his head side to side, as if he was trying to see the stars were flat or spherical. Suddenly, he stopped and stared straight at Ivy. His eyes were glassy and round. Intensity burned through him.
Without thinking, Ivy closed the space between them, pressing her lips on Sawyer. Now everything was super magnified, and she could feel every millimeter of his lips. It sent a jolt of pure contentment through her.
It wasn't the kind of kiss where you read in novels, where the protagonist exclaimed how their body was set alight. It was a normal kiss. But with all the nice things in between, Ivy had never felt a more body scorching kiss like this. She pulled back, suddenly very shy; but she needed to get out of these clothes. She needed to move. She needed to breathe. She needed another kiss.
Sawyer peered into her, and leaned forward, capturing Ivy. This kiss was a lot rougher, his tongue now probing her mouth. Oh. He was desperate, as she was. They both needed to feel something. It didn't matter which way. It didn't matter who. It just didn't matter.
Sawyer was the one to pull back. He rested his forehead on hers, both of their breathing labored. "Come with me," he whispered, sex oozing out of his voice.
Ivy closed her eyes and swallowed. "OK," she whispered back. Sawyer got up, grabbing Ivy's hand and helping her up. They both dusted off the dirt from their clothes. When Ivy looked back up at Sawyer, she noticed he had a slightly pained look.
"Just once, right?" She rolled her eyes. He didn't need to worry about his Virgin Boy status being ruined.
"I don't kiss and tell." She grinned at him, raising one perfect eyebrow.
Sawyer gave a terse nod, and took Ivy's hand into his. He dragged her at a very fast pace, neither of them bothering to be quiet. It was well into the night, and despite all the security, no one was to be seen. Ivy's heart was pounding crazy, her head all fuzzy. Oh God, it was too hot. Sawyer's hand was so soft. He smelled wonderful. He probably had toned legs. The stars were pretty. Mm, wouldn't it be nice to make love under the stars?
It was now warm in the surrounding air. Ah; now she got it. She was inside a building. Or was this some weird void she saw on a PBS documentary? It was dark, with only one lamp burning. Another tug was felt on her arm, and she was brought back to earth. Sort of.
They went pass the elevators. "How come we're not going on the elevators?"
Sawyer let out an aggravated sound, and tore off his scarf, breathing a sigh of relief. "Too much noise," he simply said as he banged the door open to the stairwell. Sawyer led Ivy inside; their loud breathing was echoing back and forth.
Ivy tugged her wrist out of Sawyer's, which was now hurting. She rubbed it, but seeing Sawyer shrugging off his jacket and revealing his toned body underneath his shirt, she forgot all about it. She realized Sawyer was staring at her. Timidly, she looked up, only to see his luscious mouth coming forth and crashing down on hers.
Ivy moaned and whimpered, not knowing where these noises were coming from, and desperately needing an outlet out of these clothes. She was sweating. Her feet hurt. Sawyer's hair was uber soft. His hands were circling her in very frantic, yet very erotic ways. The stairs were a light pink instead of white. No, wait; they were blue.
Sawyer began walking up the stairs backwards, Ivy right in front of him. She tried to hold on him tight, but they had to get to his room, and they just couldn't have sex on the stairwell. Like little teenagers (well, they were teenagers), they pulled and tugged each other, trying to ease some of their lust. Several times, Ivy banged her head on the wall because Sawyer was kissing her like a madman. She knew she had bruised Sawyer because she heard him groan when he hit the railing. Or maybe she was making him groan.
Maybe it was several hours later, or maybe several minutes, Sawyer finally opened a door. They were now in another hallway, and Ivy hoped to God his room was near. Ivy knew she probably had several love bites and marks on her, and she was now limping, one of her Prada flats long gone. Maybe some Easton ghost took it. They were probably jealous.
"Sh-sh, we have to be quiet," Sawyer said, failing at whispering. Seeing how serious Sawyer looked, Ivy began to giggle. He gave her a stern look through the fog of the drug, but Ivy continued to laugh.
"Be q-quiet!" Sawyer said, also trying very hard not to laugh. He began walking forward, Ivy in tow. She tripped, hit her head again on the wall, and failed to notice Sawyer smothering his chuckle.
Another room. Dark. This was it. This was his room. And before Ivy could think, she felt herself being thrown against a wall, being showered with kisses on her neck. His tongue flickered out several times, each time sending a jolt of pleasure through her. They both had kicked off their remaining shoes, and Ivy was desperately trying to take off Sawyer's shirt. All she could think was more, more, more. She felt her own shirt sliding up, and she helpfully leaned away from the wall, while Sawyer threw the shirt away from her.
Sawyer was gazing in such a lustful way, she couldn't think. Ivy was just wearing a simple black cotton bra, but to Sawyer, her breasts seem like a pile of gold. Finally getting his senses back, Sawyer practically lifted Ivy up and carried her to his bed. The movement was sloppy and drug induced, but they both landed safely in the confines of cotton.
Ivy was breathing heavily, anticipation hanging by the thread. Ivy noticed she had ripped a couple of his shirt buttons, and she wanted to finish the deed. As if he was thinking the same thoughts, he quickly undid the buttons and casually discarded his Ralph Lauren onto the floor. Ivy sucked in some air, absolutely not prepared for the sight in front of her.
The moonlight accentuated Sawyer's perfect body. Light reflected of his super smooth skin, making him look eerily scary. Scary in such a way in that she had never seen beauty like this. Perhaps it was the drugs. If she was sober, she probably wouldn't have even suggested sleeping with Sawyer in the first place. She would just be . . . sitting all by herself.
But one thing was certain. He had one hell of a chest.
He shook his messed up blond hair to the side, trying to rid them from his eyes. And then, as if the drugs made him realize where he was, he suddenly looked at Ivy in the most genuine and soft way she had ever seen. This look made her heart beat beyond measure.
Slowly, Sawyer brought his head down to the base of her neck, taking his time, nibbling and kissing each millimeter. His lips were so soft, and they did wonderful things to Ivy's center. She made embarrassingly wanton sounds, but for some reason, she was not repulsed or shy. The emotion was so thick and raw, stupid little noises didn't matter. It just made everything better.
Sawyer hummed underneath her earlobe, and gave a gentle bite on it. She gasped as she relished the mixture of pain and delight, fighting to stay in control. She needed him to go faster, but he was going impossibly slow.
"Faster," she managed say, while Sawyer sucked on a particularly sensitive pulse spot. Ivy arched up against him, shamelessly pressing herself against Sawyer to relieve some kind of pressure. She just felt him nod a 'no' while he nuzzled against her skin. Instead, his lips journeyed south at a leisurely pace. They stopped at the valley of her breasts, and he inhaled deeply. His breath tickled her flesh, and she squirmed again.
Ivy was stuck in a whirlwind of pleasure. She didn't need to focus on the myriad of sensations; the drugs had already magnified all of her nerve cells. Also, since she was technically high, she was too stoned to even think properly. And for a split second, she was glad she wasn't able too. This was too intense to hold back, and too intense actually think.
She felt her pants sliding off, and she saw Sawyer's were off also, save for his underwear. He dug his hand under her knee and brought it up to his waist, his hands circling under her thigh and his mouth all over her stomach. This was torture. Why wasn't he just taking her?
"Stop teasing me, you ass," she hissed out. In all actuality, she liked this. But in the drug state of mind, she needed him inside of her now.
Honestly, it just felt to intimate. This was what you were supposed to do, right? With the correct combination of broken hearts and drugs, you get a hard and rough fuck. But clearly, Ivy got it all wrong.
"Ah-ah," he chided softly. "Both you and I want to forget. Which is what I'm doing. And I'll do it right," Sawyer growled out. In an impressive, swift motion, he snapped off her bra and tossed it on the floor. Ivy wildly wondered where the hell he acquired these moves. But then again, he was surprising her every second.
Lustfully, he took one rose bud into his mouth, teasing and nipping the right breast, while the left was being attended by his hands. Sawyer's mouth was all over her, occasionally bringing up the blood vessels up to the surface. Ivy wasn't aware her pink cotton was long discarded, and that Sawyer's fingers were in her prized possession, capturing her. Before she could think, the moans got increasingly louder second by second, until she wasn't able to hold back any longer. Ivy was sucked into the vortex of intense pleasure, and she kept her eyes shut, hoping for sensation to stay longer.
When she finally gazed back up at Sawyer, she knew it had to be now.
"I need you. Now," he hissed. Her only reply was to slowly tug the band of elastic down. Sawyer impatiently kicked them off. She heard Sawyer fumble a bit with the condom (he had random condoms in his room!), but he quickly recovered. He was now hovering over her, his beautiful and vulnerable eyes gazing at Ivy in wonder.
He came in slow; despite the drugs, Sawyer was still catering her needs. Time stopped as the two locked their eyes on each other, each savoring the ultimate act of intimacy. Finally, time rushed back and they were brought back to reality. Slow, slow, slow he went. His muscles were ridged as if he was trying to hold back. Ivy didn't want that. She didn't need slow. She needed it rough.
"God, you're so tight. You're going to make me come," Sawyer bit out. Ivy shivered at the mere thought of it. His whole body was still and not relaxed, and Ivy could see his muscles straining. Goddamn it, he was supposed to be fucking her, not being all lovey and personal!
Or perhaps he was just a very good lover.
Or perhaps he wasn't lying about bursting soon.
Seemingly on her own accord, her hips bucked up to his. Ivy gave a mingled cry of joy and lust, and it seemed like Sawyer finally got the idea of what Ivy's body desperately needed. His eyes widened slightly, getting the hint. Hoisting her right leg over his waist, Sawyer deepened the sensation. But he was still being slow.
"Is this alright?" he cooed.
Ivy had it. He was being too sweet. He was teasing her too much. "Now I know why Reed didn't want you. You don't seem to know how to fuck girls' prop-"
Sawyer snapped his hips forward. Ivy gasped and smiled wickedly; she was used to getting her way, after all. "I may be nice, but don't you dare underestimate my ability," he snarled out. Smiling in triumph, she saw Sawyer lifting her ankle and resting it up on his shoulder. Oh, my. He breathed against her leg, all desperate and frantic. He thrust into her deeper, harder, and faster. Her moans were louder than last, and she prayed no one was able to hear her.
Except someone was. Mister Graham Hathaway had long been awake. When he heard a loud giggle in the hallway, he had to wonder who it was. He tried to peek through the hole, but it was hard to see. He waited to hear the door shut; his expert ears told him the door was Sawyer's. His heart jumped up and soared with pride, glad his kid brother no longer needed his assistance. But over time, Graham wondered how the hell Sawyer was able to get the girl moan and scream so loud. He had to ask him tomorrow.
Ivy cried out in wild abandon when the first wave hit her. She couldn't seem to breathe due to the sheer pleasure; she realized Sawyer was prolonging her orgasm until she was sobbing. Mere seconds later, Ivy felt Sawyer coming, a low and deep guttural sound coming from his throat. His graceful body shuddered with the aftermath, slowly sinking down and lying on top of Ivy. They kissed until the sensation faded away, their lips moving in a lazy fashion, yet very true to what they were feeling.
Ivy had never felt this kind of pleasure before. It was nothing she had experienced prior to this silly encounter. She had never felt like crap before, and then felt like the most treasured girl in the world afterward. She needed more of the stuff – the weed, that is.
Somewhere buried in their minds, they knew the effects of the drug had been long gone. This was as real as it was going to get. They were lying to themselves. And as they lay on the bed, both not bothering to touch, they wondered if this was going to be just once. Because really, it was impossible to ignore what had conspired tonight.
"Come tonight."
"Are you kidding me? Weren't you the one who was making sure if this was a onetime thing?" Ivy hissed out. They were both tucked away in a corner in the library, each glancing nervously over their shoulders.
"As I recall, you never said that you weren't coming back." Sawyer leaned forward, his hands tucked underneath his armpits. His gorgeous eyes twinkled. "And as I recall, you sure as hell liked it." He smirked. Goodness, he had resorted to smirking! Who was this guy?
It was all the drugs. It was just sex. They were both feeling a little sad, so they decided to do the traditional cliché hook-up. Of course she didn't like it. Weren't people allowed the throw a few moans here and there? It didn't necessarily mean she actually enjoyed it. Again, it was the drugs. Besides, she wasn't going to let him win. Not ever. She was going to swipe that stupid smirk off his face sooner or later. If there was one thing Ivy was good at, it was not losing. "Since when did you get cocky?"
"Since when you were ever surprised by me?"
Since two weeks ago, Ivy thought.
"You know what? I think I'll let you have the benefit of doubt." She shouldered her messenger bag, clumsily throwing all of her contents inside. Ivy left without another word, leaving Sawyer wonder why he even asked her to come in the first place, and leaving him thinking something was way off with the drugs. Why else would he want her to come again? And did she just imply that she wanted to see him again? Or was she playing him?
Sawyer Hathaway got his answers soon enough. Two weeks later. This time, Ivy had no plastic bag. Instead, she wore some lacy underwear and a sly smile. Let the games begin, Sawyer Hathaway. Let the games begin.