Chapter 2
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Fifteen minutes later saw the pair half-slipping and half-stumbling through the front door of the Clinic as quietly as was habit for both (although, their usual routine generally contained less dizziness, less Apocalyptic brooding on his, and less sporadic bursts of chatter on hers), even when, as tonight, it was empty but for the two of them.
"Doctor?" she ventured timidly, shifting her weight from one foot to the other and nearly losing her balance. "Are you angry?"
He froze for a moment, then sighed, finished locking the door, and turned.
"Let's establish something first," he suggested coolly. "Is it true?"
"It is," she admitted. "But it was a long time ago!"
He nodded thoughtfully.
"I see."
Soft arms wrapped around his middle, and huge, imploring brown eyes looked up at him.
"Please don't be angry?"
"I'm not angry. But I am curious."
She hesitated.
"Curious?"
He smiled, eyes intent on hers as he pulled back slightly.
"I'd like to know how you touched him, if you'll tell me."
The silence between them seemed to stretch out for an eternity as she rested her cheek against his chest again. Finally, very softly,
"Can I show you instead?"
He watched her carefully for a long moment. Then he let out a long breath.
"Alright."
He could feel her nervousness in the soft tremble of her breath as she straightened up, in the wild flutter of her pulse at her throat, in the slight shake of her hands when she took his.
He didn't like it – something about the way he was half-hard already, from nothing more than the evidence of her discomfort and fear, sent a sharp, thin thread of unease needling through the fog of too much drink around his mind.
"He was standing by the troughs, and he was just turning around, when I grabbed the front of his shirt—like this," she added, hands clinging at the crisp white cotton of the doctor's dress shirt.
"Then?" he prompted, watching her curiously, unease ignored in favour of focusing on those soft, warm little hands burning through thin fabric.
She tugged him closer and kissed him, firmly and resolutely, but hands still trembling at his shoulders. His hand slid back into her hair, and when she gasped against his mouth, he caught her lower lip, nipping gently and drawing a soft, shaky moan from the girl in his arms.
"He—he didn't do that," she managed when they finally broke apart.
"Then please, continue," he invited with a faint hint of a teasing smile.
"I like your way better," she protested shyly, trying to pull him closer and pouting when his he pushed her firmly back.
"Right now, you're showing me what happened."
With a tiny sigh, she straightened up and smiled beamingly at him.
"Okay. But...um...you won't get angry if I try to take off your pants, will you?"
"I believe someone mentioned chewing through them."
She bristled.
"Claire was exaggerating! I was not chewing through his pants!"
He laughed.
"Then may I ask why you were down there?" He leaned closer, raising one eyebrow slightly, as she grew brilliantly red and muttered something indistinct. "I'm sorry, Elli, I didn't quite catch that."
"I said, 'I don't remember, but I think I was trying to take his belt off with my teeth,' okay!" she barked.
A stunned moment followed. Finally...
"Ah," he said rather helplessly. As she dropped abruptly to her knees, he backed up instinctively and felt his back bumping against the door, eyes widening with dismay. "Hey, wait a minute!"
She tossed her head, and peered up at him reproachfully.
"You said you wouldn't get mad!"
"But this is..." Here, he trailed off into a distinctly breathless silence as she tried to grasp the length of his belt in her teeth, missed entirely, and ended up nuzzling something hard and insistent, and rapidly becoming more so.
"Sorry," she whimpered, casting him a quick look before attacking his belt again, hands clinging tightly to his hips. Then, giving up entirely on this teeth business, she released his hips and worked at his belt and zip. Then she looked imploringly up at him again. "I've never done this before, so I might not be very good."
He nodded dumbly, heart thundering and mind screaming at him to push her off before this could go any further when neither of them were in any state to deal responsibly with it, when the chance of hurting her was far greater than he liked.
Then, as a warm, wet little tongue licked delicately at the tip, hands squeezing and sliding over his length and driving him half-crazy with the desire to pull her to her feet, shred her dress, and shove her down onto the nearest available surface, he leaned heavily back against the door with a disbelieving groan, hands tightening helplessly at the varnished wood.
She gasped softly as one hand came down to rest at her hair, and she tensed as it tightened and pushed her ever so slightly closer. Relaxing into his touch, she shifted obediently closer, mouth sliding down around him, not very far because after all, she was still a beginner, but from his cry, apparently enough. Tongue swirling wetly, she sucked gently and moaned as a bolt of heat shot through her at his expression, head rolling back against the door, eyes tightly shut, breathing rapid.
When something tugged sharply at her hair, it took a second for the pain to register, and she yelped in protest, glaring up at him.
"Enough, Elli. Get up," he ordered, breathless and looking close to panic behind sternness.
"I'm not finished yet," she said absently, moving to grasp him again.
His hand grew tighter at her hair, and this time the pain was immediate and startlingly intense as he dragged her to her feet, steadying her with a hand at her arm as she stumbled slightly.
"I asked you to stop that," he said severely, catching her hand.
She stared for a long moment as he made a mad attempt to reverse her progress in undressing him, bewildered and a little hurt.
"Alright," she said brightly, through a slight tremble in her voice. "I understand if you don't want to know the rest. It's late, and--"
Her words were swallowed by his lips finding hers again, and her soft, blissful noise hummed against his mouth as her hands slid back into his hair to pull him closer.
When she felt the backs of her legs bump against the edge of the sofa, she wondered dizzily how on earth that had happened, and then abruptly ceased to care as he spun them both around, half-stumbled and landed hard against the cushions, and hauled her into his lap. He pulled her skirts up and out of the way, and she shivered delightedly as his hand ran up her thigh, around to grip her bottom, and dragged her closer. With a half-pleading, half-impatient moan as his arousal ground against white lace already soaked through with her own desire as she squirmed in his lap, her hands flew to his belt again.
Swatting her away playfully, he slipped one hand under the waistband of her undies and brushed very lightly through a light dusting of curls to trace her folds gently. Eyes widening and then squeezing tightly shut, she bit her lip to fight back a whimper, hips bucking against his hand. On a whim, very suddenly eager to repay a little of her teasing, he pushed her out of his lap, back against the sofa and, dropping a light kiss at her forehead, moved down her body and bunched her skirts at her waist.
"Shh. Just relax," he murmured into the layers of fabric, eyes catching hers for a brief moment.
Urging her up slightly, he slid her little lace undergarments down her legs, tongue darting out to leave a little wet spot behind her knee, grinning slightly when she gave a startled, but hardly dismayed, little shriek.
After several distinctly annoyed seconds of fighting to pull those undies the rest of the way off, only to find them irreversibly tangled in the laces of her boots, he gave up in despair, glared at her as a slightly hysterical giggle drifted towards him, and slid one hand between her thighs, smirking a bit as her laughter melted into a gasp. Parting her folds gently, he ran his tongue over her warm, drenched slit in slow, leisurely strokes, and then circled the sharply sensitive bundle of nerves.
Her hand tightened, fingers curling into his hair as she squirmed and writhed underneath his mouth and hands, uttering those little gasping cries and pleas that combined with the warmth of satin-smooth skin of her thigh pressed to his cheek and the heady saltysweet scent of her arousal to send another throb of need through him.
When he pulled away, she made a noise of frantic protest, and his laugh as pulled her up and back into his lap was slightly rough.
Between them, they managed to wrestle his belt and zip open, and as his trousers and underwear pooled at his knees, she wrapped her fingers around his length with a blissful sigh.
"I like him," she informed him, wide eyed and very serious, when he looked at her curiously.
"Oh. He's, uh, rather fond of you, too," Tim admitted with an embarrassed cough.
She giggled again, threw her arms around his neck, and buried her face at his shoulder. He drew in a quick breath as that little pink tongue darted out again, and his hand drifted, seemingly of its own accord, to her breast, massaging gently through layers of fabric. She purred happily against his ear, wriggling enticingly against him.
With a sound low in his throat and remarkably like a growl if that, along with giggling, pouting and smirking, hadn't been one of the things that he just didn't do, he grasped her hips tightly, lifted her up slightly, and catching on immediately, she shifted until she was cradling his length against slick folds. Guiding him into her with one slim, capable little hand, they moaned in breathless unison as she slid down around him. Establishing a slow, careful rhythm, she rolled her hips against his, biting her lip to hold back a whimper at the sensations, silk and satin gliding after the initial pain ofjust not doing this enough, sweet-hot pressure building, almost unbearable, picking up speed as his hands tightened at her hips again, lifting and lowering her until she tensed, and gave a long, shuddering cry. She buried her face in his shoulder, trembling as he pulled her closer and harder against him a few more times, and then flooded her with heat, expelling a harsh breath through gritted teeth.
A long moment later, his hand at her chin urged her to look at him.
"Are you alright?"
She smiled, a slow, mischievous, almost wicked smile.
"Mmmhmm."
"Good." He pushed her abruptly to her feet and stood, scrambling to put himself back together. "Because I'm far from through with you just yet."
The brunette gave a delighted squeal of laughter as he caught her hand and pulled her toward the stairs.
"Are you going to give me some time to recover?"
He almost-smirked over his shoulder at her.
"You have until we get upstairs."
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Elli gave a soft whimper of protest as the pale rays of early-morning sunlight pouring through the window nudged her gently awake. Then, as the sound of deep, even breathing caught her attention, she smiled, flushed and impish, at the dark-haired man stretched out next to her, his arm curling over her waist as she snuggled closer and rested her cheek at his shoulder.
When she felt him shift slightly under her, she looked up, and sent him a beaming smile.
"Good morning."
He cleared his throat uncomfortably.
"Uh, yes, good morning."
She frowned at his uneasy expression.
"What's wrong?"
"Well, to start with, I feel like I've been hit by a truck."
She snickered behind her hand.
"I guess a whole bottle of wine in one evening will do that to you."
"You didn't do so badly yourself," he reminded her with a slightly forced smile.
"I know," she said comfortably, flopping onto her back and stretching out. "And my head is pounding, too, but I almost always wake up with a headache."
He grew bright red as the blankets slipped down to her waist. Noticing, she smiled shyly, and moved to kiss him. Immediately, his hands flew to her shoulders to hold her back.
"Elli, wait."
Obediently, she stopped, but didn't move away, her smiles and sunbeams and dreamy-eyed peacefulness fading into the beginnings of worry.
"What is it?"
He gave a long sigh, trying to put the worries swirling mistily inside his mind into words.
"I-I didn't mean for this to happen."
"Well, neither did I," she laughed nervously. "Not many girls' starry-eyed fantasies of the boys they like include a night of drunken revelry. Unless you mean you don't feel the same way, and you're just sorry you led me on."
He winced slightly at the terrified note creeping into her voice, well backed up with anger and a hint of tears.
"No! I do. A lot more than you know. But last night was...stupid."
"Oh, thanks," she huffed.
He gave her a stern look.
"You know it was, Elli. I was in no state to control myself around you, and I never wanted to put you at that sort of risk. Especially when you were in no state to stop me."
"Tim, if I had wanted to stop you, I would have stopped you. Alcohol or not, I'm a big girl."
"I know. You're probably more capable than a lot of girls. But I was...I don't know. I think a part of me was acting in anger, and that scares me a little."
"So you were angry with me!"
"A little," he admitted with another cough. "Mostly, I was angry with myself, because I couldn't stop imagining you...in that situation, and you're far more than that to me. But I guess I didn't really like the idea that I'd missed my chance to...well, teach you these things myself. I'm not angry about it now," he hastened to continue as her expression turned outraged and he read a feminist rant in her eye. "But alcohol brings out stupid things in people, and when I think about how easy it could have been to justify letting things get out of control, how easily you could have gotten hurt--"
"No one got hurt," she said gently.
"But you could have."
"No, I couldn't. I know you'd never hurt me."
"Never intentionally. But the point is, this is not the way I wanted this to happen. Even last night, I had no intention of going that far until our wedding night."
As soon as he said it, he winced. Then, as an expression of pure joy washed over her face, he smiled ruefully.
"Wedding night?" she repeated, blushing and shyly avoiding his eyes.
"This wasn't how I meant to ask you, either," he admitted.
Her arms wound tightly around his middle, and she buried her face in his chest.
"I'm sorry I seem to be wrecking all your plans lately."
He chuckled softly, one hand running through her hair.
"It's alright. So...was that a yes?"
She nodded emphatically, her face still hidden against him, which very nearly caused injury to both of them. He didn't even try to stop an adoring smile as strands of silken soft chestnut brown brushed over skin warm and sensitized from recent sleep.
"Well, then. I guess I'll get up and look for some aspirin."
Her arms tightened.
"Not yet. If this is the last time I get to have you in bed until we're married, I want a few more minutes."
This earned a full-fledged laugh.
"I guess that's fair."
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End Notes: Okay, my motives have caught me out. This was really all just an excuse to write Awkward Drunken Sex. What can I say? I love these two together, and I love them drunk and awkward even more. :D
Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it, and I wholeheartedly welcome any kind of feedback, even if it is the "you suck, stop writing" variety.
