Write It Down
Disclaimer: I don't own tatbilb
AN: Enjoy

Write It Down

Peters's hands were huge. Or Lara Jean was just tiny. Or both. Regardless, he had one hand splayed out along her side, the length of it causing his pinky to tease at the waistband of her plaid skirt and his thumb to graze the bottom of her breast. The other hand was cradling her jaw, his thumb sweeping across her cheek gingerly. His thoughts were clouded with want and need and her. The little angel that sat on his shoulder reminded him to slow things down while he still had the chance.

He allowed himself one more slow drugging kiss before he pumped the breaks completely. He pulled away from her mouth slowly, his eyes never leaving her face. Her eyes were still closed, waiting on more from him. It cracked a hairline fracture down his heart. She was perfect. He closed his eyes, needing to give himself a break, laying completely on his back to breathe. Lacrosse. Coach. Pushups. Drills…. Covey. CoveyCoveyCovey. Fuck. She'd be the death of him, but what a way to go.

When he opened his eyes, she was staring right at him, her swollen lips pouting down as if he had just broken her heart. Her hooded eyes narrowed on him with intent and purpose.

"Stop looking at me like that, Covey," he groaned throwing an arm over his face to shield himself from those eyes. He wasn't sure if he could resist her if he kept looking at him in that way. All he wanted was her. He wasn't a saint but he was trying to be good. He was trying to take things slow. And she was making it all very difficult.

"How am I looking at you?" she asked all innocent like. But the tone of her voice, she knew exactly what she was doing. How? He wasn't sure. But for a girl who had very little experience, Lara Jean knew how to work him. Who had given her the instruction manual? And how could he get one of those?

"You're looking at me like I just took your favorite toy away," he teased, tucking his arm under his head to get a good look at her and give her a playful grin.

"Well…" she shrugged. "If the shoe fits, Kavinsky."

He shook his head. "Unbelievable. I'm your favorite toy?" he asked, teasing her.

She nodded and smiled and he swore she lit up the entire room. He didn't have much in the world, but he'd give it all up for her. And it was a terrifying feeling.

His smile faded with the seriousness of his thoughts. He licked his dry lips and caught her eyes following his tongue. "What do you want Lara jean?" he asked softly, his tone shifting from fun and light to deep and meaningful. What did she want? He knew, of course, he knew what she wanted. He wanted it too. But he also knew that he shouldn't be asking those sorts of questions. Because it could lead to too many possibilities. But she was looking at him like that, and it was making everything really hard.

"You. I want you," she said with no hesitation. Sometimes she was so blunt it took the air of his lungs. In moments like that he almost felt guilty. He'd ruined innocent perfect Lara Jean Covey. He almost felt guilty, but not quiet. Not when he was on the receiving end of those eyes.

"You have me," he whispered, reaching out to trail a finger down her jaw.

"You know what I mean, Peter." She's annoyed at him for making her spell it out. But he enjoys that side of her too.

"We don't have to," he reminded her gently. He knew that she has her own thoughts about what he and Gen used to do. But Lara Jean was not Gen. And he wanted to do things right by her, with her.

"I know. I want to," she clarified and the confession did things to him.

"I…" he started but doesn't finish because how is he suppose to form sentences when she's staring at him with want and saying things like that? He was just a teenage boy. He did not have that much self restraint. He let out a slow measured breath as he tried to compose himself. Lacrosse. Coach. Pushups. Drills…. Covey. Fuck!

"Do you not want to?" He heard the panic in her voice. The nerve's building up in her mind.

"Of course I want to. You know I do! I just…" he groaned again. Why was being good so hard for him?

"You just... what?" She asked, looking at him. Her eyes were searching for an answer that she wouldn't find.

"I know how you are, Covey. I know you live in that head of yours. And I know you've got this entire fantasy mapped out already. And I have no idea what your first time even looks like. We've never even spoken about it. Are there candles and rose petals?"

She smiled but didn't answer. He knew he was right.

He smiled back softly. "Can you tell me? Use your words. Spell it out for me. I'd like to know what I'm up against." He knew the version she had of him in her head wasn't real, but sometimes he thought she compared the two of them. Peter the prince charming version that did everything right. And Peter, the real one, who really had no idea he was doing. And even the things he thought he had a good grasp on, Lara Jean had the ability to make him forget how to breathe, let alone act. He was a mess around her, and she didn't even realize it.

"You want me to tell you? Peter I…" she was starting to shut down and close off. She did that when things went too far. She was willing to have sex but not talk about it. And that was just not going to work for him.

"Ok fine. What if you… write it all down for me?" he offered. Because he was going to get it out of her one way or another. He had to.

"What?"

"The whole scene. Start to finish. Tell me what it's like in that head of yours," he smiled tapping on her temple. He'd pay good money to be deep in those thoughts.

"No way. I can't!" she blushed.

"Oh come on. Don't get all innocent on me now, Covey! Miss 'I want you.' I know those books you read. And I know, that you know, exactly what you want. So, tell me."

She was quiet for a while, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. She was contemplating it; he had already won. Then her lip slipped out of her mouth. "And you'll read it?" she asked, looking up at him with worried eyes.

He noded. "Every word," he promised. Hell, he'd probably memorize it. Whatever it was, if it was possible, he'd try to follow along like instructions. Who needs nudes when your girlfriend can write out her deepest fantasy? "Can you do that for me?" he asked again, pulling her body towards his, shifting them so she sat on top of him, legs on either side of his hips. Her plaid skirt fanning out around them.

"Okay... But," she started, getting that too familiar stubborn look in her eye. She pointed a finger at him like a school teacher he was in trouble with. It was kind of hot and gave him a few more ideas.

"But?" he asked, taking that finger into his lips, pressing a gentle kiss against it and all her fingers, knowing he could easily distract her.

She grinned above him. "You have to do the same," she finally replied with a wicked smirk.

Peter pulled her hand away from his mouth. "What? No way, Covey!"

"Fair is fair," she shrugged, crossing her arms over her chest as if his view couldn't get any better.

"I can tell you what I want. But I'm not writing it. You're the wordsmith here, LJ. I'm more of a hands-on kind of guy myself," he replied, his fingertips dancing along her bare thighs, making their way under the material of her skirt, with a destination in mind. "The second time around, I promise I'll show you exactly what I've been thinking about," he promised, reaching up to press his mouth against those lips again.

She squealed, her arms reaching wrapping around him. She did not a problem with his presentation skills.

AN: Normally I write for a very dead fandom, where it's safe. This is the first time I write for tatbilb and I'm SCARED. Please be nice. Let me know if the ratings ok, I hear people have strong feelings about ratings!

Lara Jean and Casey McDonald (Life WIth Derek) would be best friends.