I still don't own anything. Not the song, not a majority of the characters. Not the Show. If I did, I wouldn't be a broke college kid.
Sorry for the long wait... i honestly got a little blocked... and worried about this one. it's the... climax... after all (and yes, that pun was intended...) there's a warning as to when the really Lemony stuff happens... as this is my first true lemon (I don't count the FWTG series as i never really go into intimate detail... and those might be taken down sometime soon.) So be warned. graphic lemon. in this chapter. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.
Chapter 8
Take a breath, don't it sound so easy? Never had a doubt, now I'm going crazy watching from the floor. Take a breath and let the rest come easy never settle down
~All Time Low- Dear Maria Count Me In
Two months to go….
The thought played on a reel as he walked through the NS base. Over and over and over and well, the point was there. He hadn't seen her- and hadn't heard from her in two weeks, and he found himself wondering why he was keeping track.
He didn't want to keep track.
That, at least, was what he kept telling himself. IT was true, to a point… however, that didn't stop some small (traitorous) part of his mind from doing it anyway.
"Wow, bro, forget resting bitch face, I think that's resting murder face. I thought only 86 could pull that off, but I guess that I'm wrong…." His sister's voice sounded from behind him. He whirled around to see Maria, who was accompanied by Shawn Fulbright.
They seemed to be inseparable these days.
His gunmetal grey eyes narrowed. As a reaction, his sister's oil-slick blue eyes did the same, knowing what was going through her brother's head right at that time.
"Don't even." She hissed.
he shrugged, and walked away. He'd been pissy lately. At least, according to the talk around base. Personally, he thought that there had been times where he was so much worse.
He had his self-imposed celibacy to thank as one of the main reasons for his lousy- ass temper, and no one really bothered with that. Well, okay, that wasn't true… but he didn't want to touch on the people (every unattached strait or bi female… as well as the dudes who were apparently after him as well) who did bother with it.
Honestly, it had never bothered him quite this much to be hit on.
And it was only worse when she was around. Because she'd get that look… the one that said: there he goes again…
And that was the main factor that was causing this sheer amount of vicious temper that seemed to be spewing out of every pore. She'd get that look, and suddenly, he'd want to go and pin her to the wall. Again.
Because he still hadn't gotten the last time out of his head.
He still wanted her, and he had the feeling that wouldn't change for a long time.
"Honestly, numbuh 60, I really think that it's time for a chat with my sister." Shawn said it dryly. "Both of you are bitchier than usual, and you're scaring the kids from the KND. Actually, the two of you are scaring everyone."
Patton glared at the boy who was holding his younger sister's hand. "You and I obviously need to have a bit of a chat. Later though. I'm busy."
Paddy snorted. "Yeah. I know," he said as he walked away.
He made it to the moon base fairly quickly. Honestly, with so much time and so little to do, he should just go home and take some time off.
Two Months Later…
Tomorrow was the day. And then he'd be free of her for (possibly) the rest of his life. He'd finally be shot of the whole fucked up thing that they'd had going for the last 13 years. Patton couldn't help but savor the moments.
And she'd find someone else. His eye twitched. He knew that she would… eventually… and yet…
The thought of someone else touching her made him want to hurl. She would find someone else, someone who would probably be a complete doormat (he couldn't control the hiss of anger), and she would move on. He sneered. Poor sob. He actually pitied the idiot who was going to end up with the harpy. He couldn't stop snickering at the thought.
"Ye seem to be in a rather cheery mood…"
Every single muscle in his body tensed. His blood rushed down and his vicious laughter was caught in his throat. Why was she here?
He turned around, and barely managed to keep his jaw from dropping. His brain short- circuited. She looked… different. Delicious. He inwardly groaned. Her long, curly red hair was tied back- like she used to do right before she had turned over to the TND- in a bun. She'd somehow tamed it enough to put it in the messy up-do. Her green eyes were outlined in black, some confusing female secret that he'd noticed most girls used. She frowned, her red- slicked lips turned down in a frown.
She was dressed differently, too. The little black dress (though it could hardly be considered that) was a high- necked halter top, and the hem stopped at mid- thigh, hugging her curves and showcasing her pale, beautiful, mile- long legs. Did her father actually let her dress like that? She seemed taller too.
She was wearing heels. A pair of blood red four inch heels that only served to make his mouth water.
"What are you doing here, 86?" he growled.
He did not notice her shiver.
"I…" she cleared her throat. "I came to get Shawn…" she muttered. He shrugged.
"Just left." He grunted, motioning to the right, where the younger teen had passed. She nodded, and started walking that way. He seized up as she passed and he caught her scent… and barely held back a pathetic moan.
She smelled different too. A dark, floral scent… definitely roses, but more…. He frowned. She smelled like a wild midnight garden. And it was driving him insane.
It took him seconds to realize that she'd always smelled like that… she'd just seemed to enhance it.
In that instance, he snapped. He grabbed her wrist and dragged her into his office. He shoved her in, slammed the door, and proceeded to shove her against it. His eyes were almost mad. She was maddening. Their noses were inches apart and he was gasping for air, trying to control himself. "What the hell are you wearing?" he hissed. "Are you trying to drive me insane?"
She shuddered, and licked her lips. His eyes zeroed in on her mouth. "I… Its…. I didn't want to, but… my father…" She muttered. Trying, and failing to look away. "He's hosting a dinner party and it is mandatory for me to show up…" she muttered. "Paddy and Shawn as well…"
His hands, of their own accord ghosted down her sides to grip her hips. "Patton… let me go." She whispered. The effect was instantaneous. He dropped her, and stepped back. It was in that moment that he made a startling discovery… He'd never make it that long. He wanted her now.
It wasn't as if she wanted to walk all over the place in this ridiculous do. She hated dresses in the first place, her hair was a pain in the ass to tame, she didn't wear makeup all that often, and she absolutely, positively hated high- heels.
It was all her parents' fault. Sure, she didn't live with them anymore, but that didn't mean that she didn't have to- and quote- 'make a good impression to help daddy with work' she snorted and rolled her eyes.
Of course, she didn't have to suffer alone. Not when she had two little brothers and a little sister- all of whom lived with her… but still. She glared at nothing in particular. She had heard Rowena talking on a transmitter to her commanding officer. She'd heard the fight, and she sighed.
Rowe's relationship with Joey Beetles was getting to be way too similar to her own relationship with Patton Drilovski. The only difference was that Patton had never been her boss. Would never be her boss. He'd never had the power to order her around.
She shuddered at the thought… and then her mind decided to take a turn for the worst. She went red as the images that her mind produced quickly turned X- rated. What the hell?
Then she remembered. She was a teenager. Right. Hormones. They were a thing… and he was rather attractive. Way too attractive.
For anyone's good.
She'd heard the dark laughter as she rounded the corner of the NS base and frowned. Patton Drilovski himself stood there, looking in between disgust, fury, and sneering humor. Best mood she'd seen him in since that day in the hallway.
Where he'd told her to beware the dog.
She snorted at that. He didn't seem to hear it. For which she was thankful for. However, now she was pressed against a door, and he was touching her, and she couldn't think at all. Thank god he stopped when she'd asked him too.
Big, red Danger signs were flashing in her mind's eye and she
couldn't help but think… god, here we go…
"Bozhe moy, ty prekrasna(1)…" he muttered.
She knew enough about languages to know that it was Russian he spoke, and enough about herself to know that it was his voice, as well as the words that made her tremble.
She spoke back, though she used her grandmother's language- the all- but- dead language. "Tá mé ag tosú ag smaoineamh go bhfuil fhriotú duit ina chúis caillte(2)…"
He blinked, frowned and cocked his head to the side. "What language was that? I've never heard it."
Fran shuddered as his breath hit her neck. "I-it's Irish G-Gaelic. Ye wouldn't have heard it… it's n-nearly a dead language. Most don't use it anymore."
"What did you say?"
"I'm not telling ye what I said. The whole point of my sayin' it in a different language is so that ye don't understand. Much like you speakin' in Russian."
That shut him up. And then, he sighed. "I'm sorry, Fanny." He muttered. She frowned.
"Sorry for wha-"
She was cut off as he captured her lips with his. She froze up, and then, she melted. Her hands went around his neck, and she let him control the kiss.
Her mind was in chaos. He was doing it again. He was kissing her, and she wasn't stopping him. How could she, though? When she wanted this just as much as him? He was controlling the kiss, and she didn't care.
He was playing her like a puppet and she couldn't find it in herself to stop him. His arms wrapped her in a vice grip and held her to his chest as he tasted her. The unique flavor of this one girl had trapped him in.
His hands gripped her waist, and he hitched her up, until she wrapped her long, slim legs around his waist. He pressed her further into the wall one hand on her backside helping to steady her, the other slid over her thigh, caressing the skin.
She tasted like her favorite tea- which he knew to be bohea tea. Smokey and bittersweet. She must have had a cup before getting there.
She was melting. The fire was too much to take as he slipped his tongue in her mouth. She felt herself deteriorate. Her mind fractured. And she made a low sound in her throat. Peppermint and chocolate surrounded her.
She should be doing something…. But she couldn't remember. She had come to the NS base for a reason…
Dinner…
She gasped. She was late.
She shoved against his chest, which, though ineffective in moving him at all, did make him break the kiss. Both were panting. There were no words for what had just happened. She was gasping for breath, and neither one of them had even wanted to stop.
All that besides, Patton was glad that she had stopped it. He let her down. He'd be lying if he said that he didn't regret that, though.
He would have taken her on the table if she hadn't. The madness had almost gotten a hold on him, and even now, he was fighting to keep it back.
"I… Dinner. I need to find…."
"Yeah. I know." He gasped it.
She turned toward the door. Then turned back to him. "I…I didn't want to stop…" she whispered, face going red, and then she disappeared through the door of his office.
He froze.
Fuck.
How was he supposed to keep his damn hands to himself when she said shit like that? He slumped on his desk, running his hands through his hair. He was in deep trouble… and there was no major bad guy to keep him occupied.
He shook his head, trying to clear the hazy thoughts and second old memories of her wrapped around him. He groaned as he felt his body harden at the thought. Dear god, now he needed a cold shower. His uncontrollable thoughts whispered insidious thoughts in his head. She's eighteen, now…. He sucked in a breath.
Shit.
He needed to see her….
Now.
He left his office in disarray, an odd sort of desperation taking over, and he nearly forgot that she wasn't at her home at the edge of the forest, but was at a dinner party in Cleveland. He snarled, but grabbed a suit out of his office closet. He'd change on the way there.
Fanny could not concentrate on the dinner let alone the conversation that was happening around her. She sat, contemplating the food silently, the only thing that she was thankful for was the multitude of people sitting around her- with one exception.
The young man sitting next to her- the son of one of her father's business partners, she was sure. The type that got what he wanted- or threw a giant temper tantrum like a two-year-old if he didn't. She glared as she tried to scoot her chair farther away from him.
She noticed her mother watching her like a hawk, waiting for the young woman to fuck up somehow so she could report out her sob story, but the younger red-head couldn't care less at the moment. If this stupid, spoiled little jackass kept up his current act, she was going to deck him.
She could already tell that he was more than a little drunk. When he asked her to dance (she grimaced, but took his hand, anyway), she saw her mother pout in disappointment. Typical Miranda Fulbright. She rolled her eyes covertly, and proceeded to the dance floor with the pampered prince of pompous prissiness.
She felt her stomach drop in disgust as his hand- which was supposed to be on her waist slipped farther down to her ass, and she glared at him, the gold ring in her eyes seemed to glow with anger. "Get yer hand up or ye won't like what I do."
He sneered, and kept his hand where it was, adding a squeeze to it, she snarled and went to slap him, but another hand grabbed her wrist. She gasped, and her head jerked around to see who had grabbed her.
Her body melted. Her lips parted and she found it rather difficult to breathe right then. His eyes glittered with temper, the same color as the silver necklace she wore as he tugged her out of her dance partner's grasp. "I believe the lady said to let her go." His voice was quiet, a shocking difference from the icy fury carved into his face.
He looked dangerous, and Francesca just couldn't resist that.
"I don't believe that we asked for your help, Mr…?"
"Drilovski. Patton Drilovski. And I don't believe that I care, jackass. Keep your hands off her." He hissed. He did not give the other party a chance to retaliate as he swept her away into a waltz. She looked up at him, the mix of emotions she felt at that exact moment all boiled down to one.
Lust.
However, when his silver eyes met her green ones, she felt her blood freeze. She could tell he was dangerously angry, and she nearly whimpered at the effect his gaze had on her.
"Did he do anything else besides grab your ass?" he growled.
Mutely, she shook her head. The fire she usually possessed when it came to him seemed to shut down, and she could feel his touch searing her skin through the thin material of her dress. Her cheeks grew pink, her breath shortened, she felt too hot, her body seemed more sluggish… and that was just the start of her symptoms.
He sneered over her head at the young man as they danced. Fury was an understatement to what he had felt when he walked into the ballroom and saw Fanny dancing with the prick. Jealousy erupted inside of him, and the only color he could see was red. Now, he felt the beast calm a bit as he held her deceptively small form in his arms.
He gripped her waist a bit too tight for comfort as he yanked her back to his body. His head lowered, until his lips were near her ear. She almost moaned as his cool, peppermint and chocolate breath tickled her ear.
"You. Are. Mine." He snarled. He took a moment to brush his lips against her ear, and in a blatant show of ownership to those watching (or, actually, only the miserable bastard she'd been dancing with), he nipped at her ear. She tried desperately to hide her reaction, and failed spectacularly. She sagged in his arms and whimpered.
Dear god, she was gone.
He chuckled. "How fast can we get the hell out of here?" he murmured.
It took a minute for her to actually form a coherent sentence. "Is my mother looking over here?"
He murmured the negative and spun her out, then back in, changing from the rough, jealous lover to the genteel young man. She looked around while she had the chance. NO one was paying attention to them anymore… not even the boy she'd been dancing with not two minutes ago.
He seemed to have cut his losses.
"I can leave now… we've already eaten… I fulfilled my duty to my father. Let me go tell Paddy… he'll need to get himself, Shawn and Rowena home."
"Do that. I'll be waiting outside. He murmured, drawing away from her. She shuddered and he seemed to vanish.
On shaky legs, she walked to her brother, handing him her car keys, giving him a whispered excuse, and a fake ride. He nodded, none the wiser to what was going on, too busy with the golden opportunity to test out his new license that his elder sister had handed to him.
He wouldn't realize until much later. She gave her stiffly polite farewells to her parents and excused herself. Her stomach was tying itself in knots. Her body was far too hot and cold at the same time, she was trembling as she contemplated just what it was she was about to do.
He was waiting for her outside the gala hall that her father had rented, leaning up against one of the many pillars, looking like a modern Heathcliff. His eyes were shadowed by his black hair as he watched her.
With a small smirk, he held out his hand. "Tell me you want this."
She felt her voice catch in her throat. She tried to talk, but it didn't happen. She took his hand, instead, hoping for him to get the drift of what she was saying.
He shook his head, even as he pulled her close. "Tell me you want this, Francesca… or it won't happen." She gaped at him. Still charged from both the dance they had just shared and their earlier kiss. She tried to speak again, this time, she succeeded.
She could only get one word out. "Yes…"
He kept her hand, and led her away from the entrance of the ballroom. His C.O.O.L.B.U.S was there, and he dragged her against him for another searing kiss as they got inside. Once again, he lifted her up, and she wound her legs around him
He backed up, getting to the controls. He broke away long enough to get to the computer. "Where?" he hissed. She was barely able to stutter out the coordinates of her cottage.
She didn't think about her siblings who would be home in a few hours, nor did she think about any consequences that could spring from this. All she knew was that she wanted him… and she didn't think they would even make it to her house.
He yanked her back on top of him, his hand fisted in her now messy curls, dragging her head down to his once more. Her knees were on either side of his legs, as she knelt over his sitting form, his other hand running down her back. Her own arms wound around his head, clenching in his hair and shoulder as he nipped at her bottom lip. She gasped at the sting. He shoved his tongue in her mouth, kissing her harder. Her nails dug into his shoulder, and he could hardly feel the pain as the hand on her back ran down, sliding over her backside. She whimpered in his mouth as his skin made contact with the skin of her thigh.
He smirked into her mouth as his hand traveled under her dress.
She barely heard the ding, telling them that they'd reached their destination, didn't know until he stood, taking her with him as he walked into her house.
XXXXX- LEMON PUDDING AHEAD -XXXXXX
"Which way?" He whispered, She gasped, and pointed in a vague direction. He chuckled, and nipped her ear again. "Doesn't answer my question, Fan-Fan…" he murmured, licking the flesh that he'd just bitten.
"F-first door on the right, upstairs." She gasped.
He was still in control enough to wait to strip her until he'd closed the door to her room. After that, however, her dress- that short, little, hell disguised as fabric was ripped off her and thrown to the floor. In equal frenzy, she shoved his jacket off his shoulders, and fought with his tie as he peppered her neck with kisses, his hand drifting up her side.
He smirked as he brushed against her breasts and she let out a high-pitched whine. He smirked and rid himself of the tie with one hand. She snarled and attacked his shirt. IF she was going to be bared to him, he was damn well going to be the same for her.
She knew he had no intention of giving her any control. She didn't care, she was going to take it. "Off with it." She hissed.
His dark chuckle only made her more feral. She kissed him again, biting his lip. Hard enough that she felt the slight metallic taste of blood. She smirked as he growled. "Ní raibh tú ag smaoineamh i ndáiríre gur mhaith liom a thabhairt duit go léir an chumhacht, rinne tú?(3)" she purred.
She laughed when he attacked her neck again, though he stopped, as he threw her on the bed.
She hadn't even realized that they'd made it to the room, and she didn't have time to marvel at that. He was on her in seconds, her hands held above her head by one of his own, his glinting silver eyes bored into hers.
"You really think it's a good idea to antagonize me, now, kochanie(4)?" he snarled. She smirked up at him, green eyes smoldering.
"Damn straight. Ye've been a pain in my arse fer years, Drilovski." She snarked back. "it's the perfect time to antagonize ye, it is."
He attacked her lips again, as his hands streaked down. The time for talk had long since passed. He was taking what was his. "You on the pill?" he whispered the question, and felt, rather than saw her nod. Good, he thought. Neither of them were ready for that…
When he had finally got her undressed, he looked down at her, the pale moonlight making her skin look silvery-pale. "Krasyva vidʹma…(5)" he breathed. She smirked and brought his head down for another kiss. His hands ghosted down her sides, her belly, her hips… he cupped her and she broke the kiss to groan. He smirked as he caressed her, her shriek of pleasure filled the room as he brought her up and over the peak.
He kissed every inch of her skin as she lay there, too weak from her first ever climax to do anything, and then his lips made the same journey as his hands. She moaned, and then screamed again, shock shooting through her nerves
"P-Patton!" her face, already flushed bloomed the same shade as her hair as he licked her. NO one had ever touched her like this…. He chuckled against her, and the laughter shot her over the edge again. She cried out once more, and as she was coming down from yet another high, he stabbed his tongue in her.
She couldn't breathe for the pleasure that he was torturing her with, and he shot her up again.
She was trebmling now, he noted with a wicked grin, too weak to even scream. He crawled over her, and positioned himself at her enterance. "Ready?" his voice was hoarse. She nodded.
He pushed himself in. She wailed as the pain took her by surprise. Though it was nowhere near as bad as some of the injuries that she had sustained from her work in the TND and KND, it still stung… and he was bigger than she thought…
He wrapped his arms around her and hushed her, a hand tangling in her hair as he rubbed her back.
Then, he flipped them over. She gasped again, when his cock slid deeper in. "Patton, what…?" she gasped. He smirked as he lifted himself (and her) into sitting position. She was trembling, still.
"move on me, Moya prekrasna bozhevilʹna(6)." He whispered.
She wimpered, moving her hands to her chest, and brought herself up. She gasped as the sensations ripped through her. This thing was a hell of a lot bigger than his tongue… or his fingers." She shuddered, but his goading grin made her slide back down.
Her breath caught in her throat and she let out a pitiful moan. His hands standing out like gold dust against her moon pale skin- gripped her hips as he helped her repeat the action. He leaned forward. "do it again, Fan-Fan…" he whispered in her ear.
She did it again. And again… and her movements became a bit jerky as she tried to go faster. He watched as her chest bounced with her movements. He smirked and drew his tongue over one of the pale pink nipples. She gasped… he sucked at it, bringing one of his hands up to her other breast to caress and play.
The gasps, goanes, squeaks and little screams that she made in response where music to his ears. He tugged harder at a nipple, and she let out a long, keening wine, moving even more sporadically on him.
She couldn't control it anymore, and she wailed with another release, collapsing on his chest, not able to do any more. He dragged her underneath him, and moved inside of her himself, going just a bit harder, just a bit faster than she had… until he felt himself start trembling as well. He let out a groan as he let go, spilling himself inside of her.
XXXXX- END OF LEMON PUDDING -XXXXXX
She was still shaking. And he pulled her close. She put her own arms around his neck, burying her head in his chest.
He finally had what he wanted, she thought dully, as the afterglow of sex had finally left her veins. She found herself dreading the morning…. When she knew that she'd wake alone…
But then, she thought, she'd wanted this, too…. For longer than he had. The difference was… he'd be able to move on…
And she never would.
OOOOOKKKKAAAAYYYYY THEN… err… wow… I am honestly not sure how I wrote that…. I… umm…. Well, R&R if you liked it. I gotta be honest, here, my face is pretty red right now. I'm going to hell for this. There's a special place for me there…. Right next to the people who steal candy from babies….
Here are your translations:
(1) Russian: My god, you are beautiful
(2) Irish: I am beginning to think that resisting you is a lost cause
(3) Irish: you didn't really think I'd give you all the power, did you?
(4) Polish: sweetheart, honey
(5) Ukrainian: Beautiful witch
(6) Ukrainian: my beautiful lunatic
Stay tuned for the next chapter… where I may or may not finally finish this one off….
