Title: Learning Things They Don't Teach You In Classrooms
Pairings:
Kristen/Derrick
Rating:
PG-13
Warnings:
A tad bit of sensuality.
Summary:
Derrick Harrington teaches Kristen Gregory a fundamental lesson in the art of kissing.
Background:
Takes place during Invasion of the Boy Snatches.
Disclaimer:
The Clique series does not belong to me; all rights go to the wonderful Lisi Harrison.
Author's Note:
Just a little ficlet with no real purpose.I apologize in advance for any spelling or grammatical errors.

THE RIVERA ESTATE
GUEST BEDROOM #4

January 25th
8:29 P.M.

They're making out in the Rivera's guest bedroom. Kristen Gregory (dressed in a delicate open back, pleated dress of deep aubergine, paired with a sparkling gold belt, dark mustard tights, and metallic heels) has no idea if the door is locked, but she's not all that bothered, seeing that she's sandwiched between 500 count Egyptian cotton sheets and Westchester's own highly sought after soccer star Derrick Harrington.

Derrick pulls away, mouth wet. "Angle your head a little." He tilts his head to demonstrate; Kristen follows suit, unintentionally loosening her Swarovski rhinestone bow (courtesy of Massie Block) in the process. "Good girl. And open your mouth a little more."

Kristen finds kissing in general slightly revolting–there's a lot more saliva than she thought she would ever have to deal with and tongues are kind of gross–yet somehow utterly sensational. It's probably her favorite thing to do (next to soccer) and Derrick is wonderful at it.

He keeps one muscular arm pillowed under her mass of thick blonde curls and his other travels over the contour of her body: shoulder, waist, thigh. It makes Kristen feel somewhat girly, but it's pleasant. Sometimes Derrick stops to kiss her eyelids or her clavicle (which makes her feel unquestionably girly and also a little flushed; it makes her cheeks redden). One of Derrick's legs is planted firmly between her own legs and her slender charm bracelet clad arms are locked around his neck; Derrick pauses to rearrange himself; he smirks. "You can touch me," he drawls. "It's cool."

Kristen tentatively tucks her French tip manicured fingers under the hem of Derrick's pale blue Lacoste polo shirt. His skin is hot.

"There you go, Gregory" he murmurs, kissing her full on the mouth. He tastes like the white rum she and Dylan Marvil once swiped from Merri-Lee Marvil's wine cellar. Kristen has to break away and breathe, which makes Derrick laugh, loud and heartily; he taps her nose lightly and says, "Darling, you can use this, you know. I've found it extremely useful in the area of breathing."