Author's Note: This is another racy chapter - no worse than what I've already written so far, but I still felt I should post a warning. If you want to skip this chapter, you probably won't miss too much actual plot. :)


The first time they have sex is the first time they kiss. They both knew this was coming. You can only get so many blowjobs before you start to realize sex is most likely in your near future. He just didn't realize it would be this near in his future. Or, more accurately, he didn't realize they'd go this long without actually kissing. So long that when they finally did, it would inevitably lead right to this.

"This" being her naked body pressed firmly against his chest. His button-up shirt suddenly feels too tight on him, collar too close to his neck. She apparently agrees because her hands are pulling quite insistently at it.

He chuckles lightly in to her mouth, feels her smile coyly against his. He reaches up, stills her hands against his chest. Of course, she's seen him practically naked before. Stripped down to his boxers, holding him in her hand. But with the kissing and the way she's trying to rip his shirt open, he can't help but think about where this is going, and that maybe things are all of a sudden moving much too fast.

He pulls away from her, keeping their faces close together, his forehead pressing lightly against hers. Asks her if she knows what she's doing.

"Come on," she purrs. She knew this was coming. Didn't he? When she presses her lips to his again, it's like they're melting in to each other. Like his mouth was designed for the sole purpose of kissing her and only her. Always. Her lips are soft but firm against his, and when she flicks her tongue out to meet his, it's the sweetest thing he's ever tasted. It's a mixture of the cinnamon gum she was chewing earlier and something else that he supposes is just her.

It's … wonderful. Kissing her. He can't believe he waited this long, but they were both so comfortable with her taking the lead for so long. It honestly hadn't occurred to him to even really try. Well, obviously it had occurred to him. He couldn't even look at her nowadays without daydreaming about taking her in his arms. But it was all just that – daydreaming. He honestly didn't think this thing was ever going to last this long. He thought for sure she would've been scared off by now.

And yet here she was, in his arms. Letting him kiss her like he's always wanted. Except now she's pulling at his shirt again, and he's pretty sure he's going to have to either put a stop to this now, or get his head around the fact that he's about to lose his virginity.

Yeah, that wasn't really ever going to be a hard decision. He lets her undo the top buttons but then he just raises his arms and lets her rip it off over his head. He only stops kissing her when the shirt actually passes over his face, which makes her giggle against his mouth. And he's trying to concentrate as much as he can, on the sound of her laughter. On the feel of her skin against his rough hands. The way she's arching her back, trying to get as close to him as possible. But concentrating on anything other than the feel of her against him is getting harder and harder.

"Why are you still in that chair?" she mumbles in to his neck, as she scoots over on the bed, making enough room for him to join her.

"Because you're a bed hog," he says, trying to continue kissing her while she keeps moving farther away. She's on her knees, leaning toward him now, and even in the slightly awkward position, he still thinks she's a vision, with her dark hair a mess around her beautiful face. That damn blue streak even more striking against her bare shoulders.

She unbuckles the strap around his waist, and he leans down quickly to unstrap his ankles from the stupid chair. She's already wrapping her arms around his waist and pulling him toward her, a playful smile on her mouth. It's one of the first times that little smile hasn't managed to piss him off. He leans as far forward as he can, bracing his arms to bear the weight of his dead legs.

"You ready?" she breathes in to his ear, and he knows she means more than just their current maneuvering. He nods quickly and before he knows it he's stumbling in to her, face clumsily buried directly in her boobs as he struggles to keep his upper half on the bed. He wraps his arms instinctively around her waist, lets her reach around him and grab his pants leg, hoisting it not-so-gracefully on to the bed.

They're both torn between catching their breath and laughing hysterically, they're such a mess of limbs right now. But she's already pulling his legs straight and unbuckling his belt before he's even had a chance to catch his breath. May as well get rid of these, she argues. His boxers are quickly thrown over her shoulder with a flourish.

And then she's slowly lowering herself over him, keeping eye contact the entire time. He's not sure when, but at some point he forgets to breathe. He only notices when he has to take in a huge breath right as her face is hovering near his. She just laughs in to his throat, but stops just as quickly. There's nothing really funny about this anymore. Maybe there never was.

Her hair has fallen in her face, and he reaches out like he has a dozen times before. Tucks it back behind her ear, the familiar gesture making his chest tighten in a way that is also becoming all too familiar. The more she entwines herself in to his life, in to his being, the more painful it is to imagine going through life without her. At this point, he literally doesn't know if he could.

He can feel the entire length of her chest resting on top of him, her small breasts pushed tightly in to his own chest, the sensation entirely new and unfamiliar, yet thoroughly and completely right all at the same time. Like the contours of his torso were made to fit hers perfectly.

He has to glance over her shoulder briefly, though, just to see the rest of their bodies pressed together, too. Her legs are on either side of him, pressed tightly against his own, knees slightly bent and pressing in to the mattress on either side of him. She must notice his gaze, because she glances over her shoulder, as well. When her eyes find his again, he smiles sheepishly, embarrassed at his need to see it for himself. He tries to explain it to her. That for him to do this, he needs to be able to picture it.

She shushes him with a soft kiss to his lips.

"You don't have to explain yourself to me," she whispers. She doesn't know what she's doing either. They'll just have to watch and learn together.

She raises herself up a little, moves her shoulder to give him a clearer view. He looks between their bodies, sees her hips hovering just over his own. And then she's rubbing herself against him, her body quivering with anticipation as she lets out a little moan. He feels his whole body tighten, the warm feeling just below his belly button spreading all the way up his stomach and into his chest. She touches tiny fingers against the sensitive spot on his lower abdomen, right above his hips where he can feel it. It sends a tingly sensation all the way to his fingertips and the sound that escapes his throat would have embarrassed him, except that he doesn't think he's capable of any feelings right now other than blinding arousal and need.

When she finally lowers herself on to him, he can't help but wish, just for this one moment, that he could feel that particular sensation. Of sliding in to her and feeling her tighten around him. The look on her face almost undoes him – eyes shut in complete and utter satisfaction, pinched only the slightest with discomfort. Honestly, they've done so much other stuff he's only a little surprised that she doesn't seem to be more uncomfortable.

She's still for a couple moments, letting herself adjust to the feel of him. He has a vague sensation of something building in his gut, but it's like it's below the surface somehow. Like it's almost there but not quite. His hands linger lightly on her thighs, itching to grasp her more firmly, move her hips against his. But he waits for her signal. Doesn't want to rush her.

When she finally opens her eyes, her gaze is intense but steady. She leans forward, low enough that her chest is pressed against his again. The shift in angle makes these wonderful little sounds escape her mouth. He buries them with his own, grabbing her face and kissing her more fiercely than he has all night. Her little hands hold his face tightly to hers as he lets his own wander over her shoulders, up and down her arms, down her bare back. He settles them on her hips, squeezes lightly but lets her set the pace.

He loses track of time and everything that's not Tina and this moment. He has no real comprehension of how long it lasts, except that he's sure it's longer than most virgins his age. Pretty much the only positive of his particular situation. But when they're both spent and exhausted, her naked body slumped limply against his chest, head buried in to his neck, his only coherent thought is that he never wants tomorrow to come. He just wants to stay here with her, in this bed and in this moment, for the rest of his life. Was that really too much to ask?