A/N: LOOK! within two weeks of each other! I'm so proud of us! As always thank you for the comments and the love! They are all read and appreciated I ASSURE YOU. We hope you like this one because we certainly enjoyed writing it! Much love!
salt-laced and arched / dorianne laux, this close
The days, then weeks go on without Olivier.
Easier than it should be, Riza adjusts to another walking out the door. Every once in a while, a sad wave of nostalgia washes over her when she sees the significantly vacant living room or looking at the bare wall that once held frames and chic paintings. Even if some called her icy and dull, she had impeccable taste and Riza misses the colors on the wall. These small moments creep up on Riza when she least expects them, during the most inane moments of the day, and it's hard not to feel the loss and how it still stings like an accidental pinch to sensitive skin.
Perhaps she judged Olivier incorrectly, a voice in her head tells her snidely. Perhaps you chose wrongly, a darker, but smaller voice said. Riza can't fault her former flatmate's inability to understand her affair, no matter how much or how little it stings. It burns in the hollow parts where their friendship used to be, knowing that this man has a better and more intimate understanding of her as a person than Olivier would ever be capable of or want to be capable of. The sentiment is selfish and she knows this. In other situations, she respected Olivier's ability to remain steadfast in her convictions.
All this comes to mind on a Friday evening, a quiet one when they are seldomly so for Riza. Earlier she relished at the fact that she could take advantage of the quietude to get lost in her annotated-to-death anthology of Pablo Neruda's works; to be comfortably situated in her own bed and just take in the evoking prose, and catch up on her laundry she was woefully behind on. The space would do her some good, she reasoned. A lot had happened in the last few weeks and a bit of alone time with her favourite poets and a Greed pizza from Hell's would do her some good. It's been a while since she's had a moment with just her and a book and four walls.
Riza looks at the time, the walls, the fading pages, and realizes … why did she ever come to miss this. When did she grow to enjoy company?
Rebecca had come and gone after her classes, commenting on how rare it was to see her there on a Friday. Riza tried to explain but her friend looked like she was short for time, making a racket with her closet and in the bathroom. Riza could hardly catch where she was going, she'd hardly made mention of it as she was hurrying out of the apartment and then those words were cut off by the slamming on the door. Not that she expected it, but the lack of invitation probably meant that it was a date or something of the sort. That was hours ago and Riza finds herself a little disappointed, but mostly strange, that her phone isn't blowing up with a play-by-play of the date's shortcomings or successes. The commentary is a specialty of Rebecca's humor.
Her friend was right: ordinarily, she wouldn't be here. Over the course of a few months, Riza has slipped into a routine that she is loathe to have issue with. A bus would take her on a route that went past his neighbourhood, following her afternoon biochem class. Sometimes, she'd make a detour to the supermarket nearby to pick up a few things if a mood struck for something in particular, but more often than not she was content with takeout. It was a nicer environment than the library - she could spread out all the work she needed to do on the coffee table in his lounge and sprawl herself along his couch. The hot chocolate powder that had mysteriously arrived in the pantry one day wasn't amiss either.
This time, however, her excuse was moot and she couldn't expect a phone call or exchange of texts to change that either, because tonight he was travelling to Central for a conference where chemistry nerds were converging to relay to each other the latest findings. Roy was not as excited as she expected. In fact, he looked particularly disgruntled by the way he told her about it two weeks ago. He whined how not even professors were spared from homework, or 'paperwork' as he referred to it.
Eventually, she pushes away the distractions and enthralled for the millionth by The Heights of Macchu Picchu when her phone lights up and pings on her desk. Mindful of the book in her hands that is practically falling apart, she sets it down carefully, before stretching out to pull on the charging cable. The phone falls into her hand with practiced ease, and Riza can't help the smile that grows on her face as she sees the name - nickname - emblazoned on her lockscreen.
Spanish Inquisition, 7:02pm I had a very interesting visitor today
Spanish Inquisition, 7:02pm You didn't think to warn me?
A chill runs down her spine. She's trying her best not to jump to conclusions but a familiar sanctimonious smirk appears in her mind's eye. She wouldn't...would she? Calmly, she responds:
Avecilla, 7:02pm I would if I knew who to warn you about.
Spanish Inquisition, 7:03pm So you didn't know. Hmm.
Spanish Inquisition, 7:03pm Your other flatmate. Not blonde. Bushy black hair. Very opinionated.
Spanish Inquisition, 7:03pm And loud
Spanish Inquisition, 7:04pm Came into my office hours in middle of a meeting with another student.
Her relief is short-lived as the reality settles in. Palm meets skin and she smacks her forehead. She loves Rebecca - honestly, truly - but the girl lived in the moment and rarely considered the consequences of her actions in the aftermath. She can't discern his reaction though, not through text alone. Her thumb hovers over the icon at the top of the app. Surely he would've called her if he felt the conversation warranted it.
Avecilla, 7:04pm becca?
Avecilla, 7:04pm oh fuck
Spanish Inquisition, 7:07pm ah so, becca's her name! I wish she would have told me that
Spanish Inquisition, 7:07pm She said a lot about a lot of things, but not her name
Spanish Inquisition, 7:08pm tbh I wasn't really given a chance to say anything
Spanish Inquisition, 7:08pm Do you know how weird it is to be lectured in my own office
Riza mutters a string of curses under her breath.
She switches messaging windows to Rebecca's and stares at the blank chat box wondering which side to approach this from. Her fingers rest on the bridge of her nose imagining the scene of a riled up Rebecca busting in through that office door, telling the unsuspecting student to scram and then potentially ripping Roy a new one about who-knows-what with the signature hands-on-hips stance. It's frustrating, it should be incredibly frustrating. What she had said, the manner in which she barged in, how it's interpreted - all of it could be her demise but a chuckle bubbles up because... Classic Rebecca.
Unaware that the screen had dimmed, she sees it light up again with a call this time. "Hello?"
"You left me on read?" The other voice on the line greets her with hints of playful tones under that indignant choice of words. He continues smoothly, "Are you starting to think you're the exception in all of this, avecilla?"
She snorts, smiling as she sat up. As far as she can tell he's not irritated. "No exception to the embarrassment knowing Rebecca did that. If I had known that was even remotely crossing her mind - well, I would have stopped her."
"Something tells me even if you did know, there's no much that you could have done from stopping a force of nature like that." Despite the noise of what she assumes is Central all around him, she can hear the tired smile on him. "I think you're very lucky to have such a loyal friend who has terrifyingly specific medical knowledge on how to best remove a penis."
"She didn't..." Riza groans and leans back against her pillows, sliding the dog-eared anthology back from the edge of the bed before she covers her face.
"She did. I was perplexed for most of it, blinking at her as she paced in front of my desk." Riza let the words sink down with her mortification and then she's frozen when he says, "Does she do this with all your boyfriends?"
She isn't sure why it tenses her; maybe its because it's finally given a name, even if it's only a label, and an unsure, timid smile crosses her face. "Consider yourself special for getting the Rebecca treatment."
"I consider myself lucky for other reasons, Riza."
Her demeanor changes with the teasing lilt in his words. A half-smile begins to spring up over her lips, thankful he's understanding - in whatever capacity - of this. "Care to share with the class?" She says coyly.
"Yes, that no one else heard. Or made any comment about it." He says sternly and she sinks back into her pillows.
"I don't know why she thought storming into your office would be a good idea."
"Well it certainly worked out well enough for you, didn't it?" Even though he's making fun of her, she bites her lip at the memory, and the way his voice has dipped now, sultry and inflected with the accent that he was well aware that made her weak in the knees. He's blatantly flirting with her.
Riza scoffs. "I believe our aims were a little different if we are going to be making comparisons."
"Ah, so you did come with a goal in mind then."
"Yes, sir. I-"
There are stifled chuckles on the other end. He is one of the few people clever enough to really get under her skin, get her riled up.
"If I recall correct, you admitted that I was baited into your office because of your stunt."
"Mmm, did I now?" he asks, low and throaty.
At least the whiplash from the back and forth keeps her on her toes; she looks at them wiggling even now as she talks to him. "Mhm, I was there."
He chuckles lightly and she hears someone greet him faintly in the background. "Let me call you back so I can get into this hotel room."
"Oh, of course."
They don't share many phone calls but even from the first day, she's known his voice was pleasant. Especially when he wants it to be. His laugh was warm down the line, and inexplicably she finds herself missing him, despite talking to him this morning however briefly.
The phone rings and she greets him with a standard "hello." When no sound comes from the other end, she checks the screen to make sure the line is connected.
"So…" he starts and it sounds like he plops on a bed. "What are you wearing?"
She blinks. "What?"
He enunciates each word. "What - are - you - wearing?"
She sinks down the length of her headboard. "You're not serious."
He tuts. "You didn't answer my question."
"Clothing."
"You're no fun, Miss Hawkeye."
"Maybe it's because I'd rather have you here to show me what you want."
"So would I." There's a wistful edge to his voice. "Do you have other plans? I was under the impression that you had a date with some laundry and pizza."
"I had a date," she emphasises. "Besides... I don't think I'd be too good at it."
"Trial and error, right? There's no pressure to do anything you're not comfortable with and we can always stop whenever you'd like."
Likewise, she gets up and locks the door to her bedroom even though she knows Rebecca won't be home for a while yet - certainly not after that stunt. "What a gentleman."
"I like to think so."She can hear his smile. "So...what are you wearing?"
Riza smiles in turn, feeling foolish. It's such a ridiculous question on top of a ridiculous act. Tightening her grip on her phone, she figures telling him the truth of her rather vanilla pyjamas would probably detract from the mood of… whatever this was. She knows enough about "phone sex" - even in her mind it leaves a weird, tingly feeling - to at least humor him. She sighs into the phone, "It's warm tonight, so I decided to wear something comfy to bed. Something so I can wiggle under the covers without feeling ...constricted."
"Shorts?" The voice at the other end sounds surprised and she clearly sees him, in her mind's eye, leaning in closer with interest and probably a smirk.
Riza bites her lower lip. "Less."
"Oh." He sounds delighted. "Well, if you're going to have me guess what Riza Hawkeye wears on her days off… the top to her pajamas and her small clothes."
He knows her too well. With little movement, she slides her underwear down her legs, letting them fall to the floor. She laughs, a little nervously. "Less."
"Aren't you naughty tonight?"
"I've been asked to," Riza teases and shifts against her pillows. "Now, tell me something."
"Yes?"
She's unfamiliar with this certain kind of ...adventure. Nonetheless, she's still willing to try. "How... excited are you?"
"Mhm. Let's see." She faintly hears fabric shifting, zippers unzipping, and if she wasn't listening so intently, she would have missed the light groan. "Very."
She licks her lips, imagining him sitting on the edge of her bed. Her legs cross; as a pleasant surprise, her arousal settles hotly in between them. "Tell me why."
"You. Your legs. Spread and losing myself between them. Your body on mine."
"You're worse than me, sir." There is a throbbing pulse right at her core in rhythm with the hard thrumming in her chest. It feels warm and slick without having to touch herself, though the temptation to is becoming harder to ignore. "What would you do?" she asks, cradling the phone between her shoulder and her ear. "If you had me there."
His laugh is delicious - she closes her eyes as a shiver runs over her bare skin. "Enough about me, avecilla. How eager would you be if you were here?"
"I'm hardly-"
"Try."
Leaning back, Riza tries to imagine her own fantasies. "If I was there-" she hears a throaty chuckle, "- I'd get on my knees, relieve you of those pesky trousers..." A daring hand slipps in between her legs and her fingers are glistening when she lifts them back up to the light.
"And?" His voice has become husky, rumbling through his throat.
"I'd take you into my mouth." She answers automatically, distracted from her slow stroke, playing with herself. It's true - previously, with other fumblings, she had done her part to make her partner feel good - but with him she is surprised to find herself enjoying the act so thoroughly. Maybe it's a power thing. The image of him watching her take him into her mouth with hooded eyes and a slack jaw is something she holds close to her heart. She does that to him.
Nobody else.
It takes him a moment to respond and when he does, his words are marked with a smidgen of strain. "Fast or slow?"
She doesn't realize until this moment that her eyes have fallen shut, her head thrown back. "Slow at first, tasting you, feeling how hard you are in my mouth and growing harder with my tongue."
"At first?" Roy asks curiously."You'd want me to make you go faster, wouldn't you?"
"Yes, I do-" she admits, gasping with the building pleasure of using two fingers to stimulate her clit.
"Grabbing you by your hair to so you can feel me go deeper."
"Yes…" His fingers coiled in her hair, his cock around her lips getting wetter each time she retook him in her mouth, the aching between her thighs increasing with every second -
"Yes, what?"
"Yes, sir." Riza thought a laugh would leave her, instead she moans into the phone, feeling a warmth flush her skin pink. She's wet enough to hear it, rubbing herself. She settles on the bed properly now, lying flat with the phone tucked between her shoulder and her ear. Gasping lightly, Riza slides a finger, then two inside herself as her other hand grabs her own breast, ghosting over the tip of her sensitive nipple.
"And where would you like me to fuck you?"
"Take me however you'd like me." The truth is she can't really think. She's lost in her own fantasies. Against the wall with her legs over his hip; from behind where he could dig his nails into her as they picked up the pace; on top of him where she could feel him reaching depths that had her voice filling the room - it didn't matter. There is an aching in her that her fingers cannot fulfill. He was too far away. She wants him here, with her and her shitty second-hand bed and the evidence is soaking her digits to her knuckles.
His groan reverberates through the phone lines and into her ear and she can almost feel the hot breath in her ear and his familiar scent.
She breathes in as hoping his phantom scent would materialize just for her. She begins, "I'm y-"
Her bedroom door opens.
"Rebecca!" she screeches. Mortified, she drops her phone, urging her roommate to get out. She can only imagine his confused expression as she swears black and blue and Rebecca is cackling madly in the background. She covers herself with her blanket, chasing her out and slams the door behind her. There's a chuckle wedged in between the "I'm sorry!" Rebecca shouts from the other side of the door.
Her phone is still lit up, the call remaining in progress as she approaches her bed. "Roy..?" she breathes after the entire debacle. Paper crinkles beneath her feet. She quickly pulls them back and hisses under her breath.
"I'm here," he responds after a moment and he sounds a little spent. "Did we have unfortunate timing again?"
She sighs as she kneels down, her blanket pooling around her feet. "What's the matter?" he presses.
Riza groans as she sees the scattered pages across her room. The hardcover of her anthology lies face down, open. The spine of it must've hit the floor first. She crouches though her legs shake and picks up the annotated papers. "It's nothing."
Other than the shifting of someone on a bed, there's silence on the other end until he speaks again. "It doesn't sound like nothing, avecilla."
She nestles the phone in between her ear and shoulder as she collects the remnants of the book in earnest. "A book I was reading before you called fell off the bed and the pages came apart."
"You certainly haven't shown me that kind of vigor to make a book fall apart."
She huffs into the phone, hoping her flattened brow expression would be received telepathically. "It was old."
"I'm not that old."
"The book."
She can hear him stifle a chuckle, but he fails by snickering anyway. It makes her smile too. "Now I see. In any case, I'm sorry to hear that. Which book was it?"
Riza flips the cover as if she didn't already know. "An old poetry book I bought when I was younger. Neruda."
"Ah, that's unfortunate."
"What's unfortunate is that I was… almost getting into it," she admits, slipping on a different pair of underwear.
She can just imagine the disappointed expression on his face. "That's even more unfortunate. But there'll be other times if the moment is ruined."
Again, she smiles because of his understanding, despite her embarrassment and she'll admit to herself that she's little forlorn over missing the opportunity to hear him reach an orgasm right in her ear. "I think for right now it is. I need to clean up this mess and then there's my other date that needs tending to."
"Laundry isn't that necessary, is it? By all means, walk around naked if you'd like. I certainly won't protest."
Riza grins, holding back the laughter. She manages to sternly volley back, "One of us has to remain civilized."
He scoffs. "I'm hurt."
"Somehow I doubt that."
"Call me back once you're done?"
Genuinely and warmly this time, she smiles. "If you behave."
"So no dick pics?"
It takes a lot of willpower not to snort audibly. "Surprise me, sir."
With his return, she realizes only a few weeks remain before classes end officially. Riza's always taken initiative for her assignments with diligence, but there's always the influx of assignments at the end of the term, projects to wrap up, or reports to finalize. Still aiding him when she can in the evenings, her free time becomes increasingly limited.
There's a new, long list of journals and books that Roy requires for his research that they read and eventually determine the value of this information. On top of this already tedious work, she offers to help grade the essays from the two 100-level courses he teaches in addition to her Chemical Literature class.
It's boring, menial and uninspiring work: the amount of grammatical, spelling and formatting errors has Riza throwing her pencil away from her in frustration on more than one occasion. The content of said work is of an even lesser quality. It aggravates Riza when it's obvious to her that some these students don't give a flying fuck about their education. Or they do, but they have a shit way of showing it.
Some dark part of her forms from this trial and she takes joy tearing into the worst of the essays via text messages to him. In turn, he responds with the excuses and the pleas for extensions or redacted frantic emails that come in once students factor in the weight of the participation grade.
Spanish Inquisition, 11:53 pm 3 years
Spanish Inquisition, 11:53 pm 3 years and they still ignore the bolded text
Spanish Inquisition, 11:53 pm It's in caps you know.
Spanish Inquisition, 11:53 pm PARTICIPATION GRADE: 35%
Spanish Inquisition, 11:54 pm It's almost like they forget that in order to participate they have to attend class.
Avecilla, 11:57 pm Strike them down
Spanish Inquisition, 11:58 pm HA
Avecilla, 11:58 pm I mean
Avecilla, 11:58 pm How cruel are you going to be?
Spanish Inquisition, 11:59 pm Most will get a B or similar
Spanish Inquisition, 11:59 pm Not enough for them to storm to the dean and complain i'm unfair, but maybe enough to encourage them to maybe try next time
The weeks fly by because of this and she can only think of one time in the last few weeks where they've actually managed to do more than just kiss. Riza isn't one to keep tallies, but it was after a late night of simultaneously grading, reading and working on her final assignments. She was tired. She knew he was too, and while she could only blame herself for suggesting it, it didn't make her any less frustrated when he drifts to sleep with his dick in her mouth. Rebecca harbored no sympathy for her either. She merely texts 'HAHAHAHAHAHAHHA' and then sends far too many tongue-in-cheek gifs implying Riza was "thirsty."
Even if she was, Riza muted her best friend and finished herself off, but not before almost succumbing to sleep once or twice.
Every time after that, when they managed to have more coffee or sleep in, they were rudely interrupted in some other way. As if it were sacrilege he had taken that one time for granted, he jested once, and it soon became laughable what the universe kept throwing at them.
The workload was understandable, forgivable, and inevitably out of their control. Then, it was constant miscalculations of how little time they had: either she had a class or he had one to teach or office hours, or I'm about to crash and we both know how the last time worked out. It was driving her up the walls - and not in the ways she'd preferred.
They reach a point of recklessness. They take advantage of his empty office with a locked door on the final days after class. He cancels his office hours that morning after her assurances that her assignments were up to par and she could afford the distraction. Riza finds herself pleasantly nestled between euphoria and giddiness from the frantic way they paw at each other's clothes. Or it's the way she sat on the edge of his desk and the cool air tickled in the moist heat in between her legs. Or the little tinge of pride from cancelling his office hours just for her. Or perhaps a combination of it all. Irresponsible, to be sure, but she'd be lying if she said she wasn't flattered how much he desired her, as if it were anything to question. She thinks, in foolish desperation, that the odds are in their favour this time.
She's wet and ready from his fingers playing with her as they kiss, bringing him closer with her legs as her soft moans are muffled by his lips. Her hands reach for the buckle of his belt and she chuckles lightly when she detours further south to palm the erection under the cloth of his pants. Let's free it, she thought then and refocused on the buckle, because she is fed up with all this teasing and none of the fingering. He's given her a light orgasm already - the kind that leaves her wanting, that she only needed to bite down on her lip for - but it's made her insatiable now. There's just something so good about having him in her, and as much as she loves his fingers and dexterity, they cannot mimic the stretch and feeling of fullness he alone provides. "I want you," she murmurs under his lips, drunk from her lust, as she unbuckled the belt with practiced fingers.
Loud and obnoxious, an alarm suddenly blares. Sound fills the room and it's like a bucket of cold water over her; it takes them both a moment to recenter themselves back to earth. Her fingers uncurl from his pants and inwardly she mourns the loss of contact. The urge to keep going is strong; after all, when are fire alarms set off for a legitimate reasons anyway? It's an irrational thought and Riza can hardly hear anything else. They fix themselves up hastily and exit the building; everybody they pass seemingly none the wiser. She lets herself drift away from him - a few metres and several people between them when they reach the evacuation point, reminding herself that there are other people here and this close to the end of classes is no excuse to relax her standards. She's just...frustrated. A voice that sounds a lot like Rebecca's teases that she's actually just horny.
If she's honest, she hates the shame that trickles down her spine at this unadulterated want. In a different time, with a less conservative upbringing to influence her choices, she wouldn't find this shame and guilt currently she's currently wrestling with. She would be more like Rebecca or even Olivier where it's not on her radar, coming and going as she pleases. But if her circumstances were different, she probably wouldn't even be here, studying for a Bachelor of Science as a means to connect with her absentee father.
Riza miraculously catches his eyes as the crowd slowly shuffles further back on the field as more people spill out of the Joseph Hunter Science Building. He mouths something to her, but her lipreading is terrible and she shrugs her shoulders, lifting up her phone to their field of vision.
Spanish Inquisition, 10:23am 10 minutes leaves enough time to return the favor of the other night.
The fire alarm had killed most of their time before her next class, but she forgoes punctuality in favor of four minutes of feeling his hair in between her fingers while his lips kiss in between her legs. In the end, her tardiness was excused.
Finally - finally, she thinks they've managed a miracle. Her final assignments are as ready as they'll ever be, waiting for one final read-over before submission, and his last block of essays have been graded and handed back to their respective classes. Draped over him in the same chair in his apartment study where they first fucked, she's allowing herself to celebrate as she cups his jaw with her hands, her tongue sliding against his pleasantly.
He hardens underneath her and she's none too shy about unbuttoning his shirt as he has done for her. Pushed down to her elbows, the shirt is rid of her and it's a painful few seconds when she pulls away to be free of it properly. He looks sinfully decadent beneath her, a lazy smirk growing on his face as one hand deliberately hooks a finger under her bra strap, tugging it down. Her lingerie choices have been adventurous in recent weeks - the pastel blue lacy number she's currently wearing is definitely not designed for any exercise more taxing than walking, and judging by the way his Adam's apple bobs in his throat, Riza knows with certainty that she's found a keeper.
His fingers brush over her nipples, and she briefly shuts her eyes as he pinches before pulling the fabric down and draws her close, tongue soothing the puckered skin. Her hands curl into his hair, scratching at his scalp and Riza's uncaring of the breathy moans leaving her - this is divine, and the wait has certainly been worth it.
Roy's hands drift down and slide under her skirt, fingers gliding over the sensitive skin on the inside of her thighs, leaving tingling sensations in its wake. He is only mere inches from her arousal and a great deal of willpower goes into preventing herself from pushing his hand forward.
He takes off his glasses and she sets them behind her on the large desk. Her hands go through his hair as he cups her breast and brings her other nipple into his mouth, using his tongue to tease the tip and even nip at it gently with his teeth. His other hand clutches at her ass to bring her closer as if the distance they have was remotely unbearable. Riza gasps into his hair, grinding her hips over his lap, and his scent is mixed with sweat. It's a dangerous, addicting blend, and she shudders in his lap as his fingers stroke across her bare skin. He releases her nipple slowly from between his teeth before shifting back to her other one and she remembers a joke he said about her breasts deserving equal treatment.
And then, in the middle of this achingly wonderful treatment - his ringtone goes off.
Roy groans for all the wrong reasons, throwing his head back. He keeps them steady as he awkwardly reaches his back pocket for his phone. "Pfft, it's just Hughes," he mutters after a concerted effort and sets the cell down on the chair of the arm. Softer and locked on her other unattended breast, he mumbles with a mouth full of her, "He can leave a message."
Riza doesn't remember which one is Hughes and she's not given much time to think about it when his mouth returns to her breast and his hand squeezes, massages, tweaks at the other. She's at the point of moaning out if you say so when the vibrations and standard tune rings out again.
He stops altogether and after a few seconds, it dies to a stop only to start up again. His attention is needed again, and she's never felt quite as pissed off at an inanimate object as she does right now. Roy growls and sits back, picking up the phone. "Let me just see what he wants."
She nods wordlessly and he starts the conversation, going beyond standard small talk after a few moments. She can hear the other man talking; an excitable person who gets even more excited when he talks about certain topics. She can't discern what they're talking about exactly, but Roy gives the occasional mhm and yeah when it's warranted.
Riza figures she can go wait for him in the bedroom. Perhaps sprawled out with a bright, blinking sign that says 'insert here' in between her legs should he fail to see how much she wanted him that afternoon; she blames Rebecca's influence for that kind of ridiculous humor. Riza starts to climb off him and stops when she's kept in place from his hand gripping the fabric of her skirt. He wants her to stay there? She frowns and points at the phone. His brows furrow and he shakes his head, putting a finger over his mouth, telling her to be quiet.
Well, she can go be quiet in the other room. She can respect his privacy. It's not a big deal; they had the entire evening to themselves. Well, nearly - but she'd be damned if she'd let any other distractions interrupt them after this call. She deserves to be fucked thoroughly.
Roy is apparently impatient, however. The hand holding the finger over his mouth flattens over her thigh and coasts up to the edge of her skirt. He thumbs the skin there, teasing the idea that he could touch her in the middle of this conversation. She looks at him knowingly when he crosses underneath the folds of her skirt, yet he continues on talking as though nothing has happened. He caresses the skin inside her thighs as he talks about something or the other: Riza isn't concentrating on that, instead absorbed with the sensation of his fingers drifting higher and higher. She waits patiently, but his touch somehow makes her hotter, wetter. A devious finger lightly ghosts over the linen of her damp underwear and he says a perfectly timed "Oh?" towards the caller and to her. Riza blushes and grabs at his wrist.
She can sit up, she can leave the room, she knows that he'd respect that, but she doesn't want to. She realizes there's a morbid curiosity as to how and why he does things and she always wants to know. This is moment is one of them. It's why she doesn't stop him when he tugs aside the cloth of her underwear and wets his fingers with what's in between her lips. Her frown dissipates and she gasps as if she's been starved from his touch, like it's an electrifying drug she's been having withdrawals from. The sensations of his fingers rubbing against her clit is familiar and unknown, and she lets her head fall back, relishing in the feeling and clawing lightly at the armchair.
His fingers leave her and he cleans them off with his mouth before gesturing her to be quiet with a finger over his mouth again. She thinks she can hear his friend say "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," he responds, looking directly at her with a devious glint in his eyes. "Just eating. Go on."
A warm tingle shoots down her spine and spreads across her abdomen down to her groin. She's been enraptured by a lunatic and she's allowed it to happen, even now when he aims to touch her again. With a bite to her knuckle, she grasps at his loosened shirt when his fingers return to remind her how obnoxiously needy she has become. Giving into this notion, she moves to hover over his lap for shameless access. He bites a bottom lip at this, staring her from the wrinkled mess of her skirt to her flushed, knuckle-biting face. She's wet enough that an easy orgasm is on the horizon from the slow, rubbing stimulation on her clit. Riza makes the mistake of thinking he'll stop there, because then one finger enters her and then another. Her reaction is unexpected, even to her. She falls back to his lap and bites the fleshy side of her palm to quell the noises. Her spread legs allow him to finger her, so he does. Slowly. In and out, and the noises would make her die of mortification if she weren't enjoying every satisfyingly building moment of this pleasure. His palm is hitting her stimulated clit with each stroke and she's grasping at his shirt once more, trying to salvage what solid ground she can keep as the pleasure rises within her..
He slows down when she's at the precipice of a delicious orgasm that she even licks her lips, and decides to become an active participant in his phone call. But it's not in English. He shifts to Spanish while his hand moves against her more patiently. She tries to catch her breath from holding it but it's impossible not to listen to the way he's talking. It's fascinating how melodic a different language sounds and how much of a turn on it is for her. He speaks this language faster. His R's roll off his tongue and somehow there's more sensuality in his voice. It's mesmerizing.
His attention turns back to her when moments ago he was staring at some place off to the side. He looks to her hips and she doesn't even realize - until he does - how subtly she was moving them. Roy pauses, eyebrows furrowed before a downright hungry grin forms on his face, and his fingers begin to move once more.
"Estoy eschuchando," he answers the person on the other line, his diction shifting into a huskier tone, each syllable pronounced lower and slower. She thought it was bad enough when he spoke it casually, but when he did it deliberately? She can only handle so much stimuli, and by this point she's uncaring of how shameless she's acting, how she's become putty in his hands. She's drunk on this orgasm she can feel barrelling towards her, on the lust and desire she feels for him. She's never felt it quite like this before - this want that feels more like a need with every passing second. She wants to take the phone and hang it up for him, but she opts for pulling at the collar of his partially unbuttoned shirt and biting the taut muscle at the meeting of his neck and shoulder. He maintains that paced fingering in and out of her. She knows she's tightening around his fingers because of the paced movement.
With his deliberate words at her ear, his fingers inside her, and the smell of his bare skin, she climaxes against him, taking deep breaths and every measure to stifle the moans and groans. Her head rests over his shoulder, hot breath hitting his neck. She can see him swallowing and doesn't know why she didn't think to give him the same torturing she just endured.
He's hard. She can feel it and see it in this light. She palms it, clutches it, strokes it, and he swallows thickly again. He sounds strained when he cuts off the caller and abruptly says, "I'll have to call you back." Roy ends the call and the phone is tossed to the wayside as his fingers slide out of her.
She grabs his cock harder and he surprises her by standing up, supporting her by her underside until she's laid on his desk directly behind her, over the papers she had spent last week meticulously highlighting. She lifts her hips to help with the removal of her own underwear. As he works with his own pants she tries to salvage what's underneath her to little success. Distracted by her menial task, she gasps, surprised, when her wrists are manacled and set at either side of her head. Her breathing is heavy, his too. The tip of him nudges at her entrance and she moves against it, towards it just for the stretch a little bit more of him inside her.
"A little bird tells me you have a secret."
Riza smiles coyly after a futile attempt to use her legs to bring him forward. "Hardly a secret if you know about it," she manages, half-heartedly trying to move her arms. He doesn't budge an inch, his smile dark and promising. She supposes at this point nothing should really surprise her when it comes to her newfound appreciation for less-than-vanilla sex, but there's just something so inherently sexy about being pinned down by him, even as simply as she is right now. The temporary loss of control is so easy to lose herself in.
Roy observes her hungrily. "A kink then."
The initial thrust makes her gasp sharply and he groans pleasantly. Her limbs dangle off the side as he fucks her over his desk. Where he was well-paced before, he is erratic now, but he won't find complaint from her in that regard. She has no means of quieting herself with her hands where they are, and biting down at her teeth proves inefficient when each of his thrusts touch places she's been yearning for weeks, when the stretch she's been hungry for is finally given to her. Her eyes are shut, mouth open, body subject to this carnal movement. She doesn't think to see beyond her eyes for the time being, what expressions his face is making or anything that will take her away from the here and now of the feelings of the sex. She feels selfish for relishing in this, but fuck, it's been a long time coming and this sex proves it.
He lets go of her wrists and brings her toward him to hang just a little more over the desk by way of her legs. She reaches over her head at the other end of the desk, moaning into the inside of her arm, clutching the edge as if it were her salvation from plunging into the deep.
Her eyes open suddenly when he thumbs her clit. She looks at him and there's a wolfish grin on his face, enjoying her reactions in the ways she squirms, moans, mewls, and tightens. Her fingernails scratch at the desk for purchase, for breath, but he continues with sweat beading his brow until he grunts a little louder and his final thrusts hit deeper as he cums inside her.
Her own orgasm follows shortly after, and she's left quivering on the desk, well aware of the sight she is before him. She can feel his seed leaking out of her as her pulls out, and automatically her fingers move to catch it - like hell was she going to completely debase the paperwork that was crumpled underneath her. He utters a strange, strained grunt, running a hand through his hair roughly.
"I've told you, you can't just do that with no warning."
"Oh?" Her hand rises back up to her mouth and she wets her lower lip in anticipation. "Do this?" Her tongue darts out to lap at the milky, viscous fluid and while the taste is not delightful, the reaction that he has most certainly is. She barely has time to repeat her actions before his hand closes firmly over her own, and pulling her up to a sitting position at the edge of his desk.
"No," he tells her firmly, though the matching smile on his lips belies any real annoyance. "If you're going to be the death of me I'd at least like to get my money's worth." The kiss he drops on her forehead is soft. "I'll get you a washcloth," he says, fixing up his trousers loosely. The faint trail of hair sticks out against his lower abdomen like a beacon and Riza swallows the urge to coax him back for another round.
She adjusts the straps of her bra back up on her shoulders and nicks his discarded shirt from the ground. Her skirt is a crumpled, lost cause, and Riza makes a mental note to pick up an iron at some point this weekend - she hadn't noticed it immediately, but of the many appliances Olivier had taken with her, the iron was the one she had relied on the most. Rebecca had bitched endlessly about the mini espresso machine that had also disappeared, though it had quickly been replaced.
She rolls up the sleeves of his shirt as she walks down the hallway towards the kitchen, humming under her breath. Roy would probably appreciate a cup of coffee, she thinks, focusing on doing the buttons up correctly as she passes by the island countertop and the man sitting there.
She stills, before turning to make sure she's seeing right. The man looks up from the plate in front of him and raises his mug in greeting, the lowlights from the kitchen reflecting strangely on his glasses.
"You kids had fun?" he asks, before taking a sip. His tone is light, breezy, and he gestures to the plate in front of him when she doesn't respond. "You're probably hungry after that, uh-" he breaks off laughing, ducking his head "-after that workout. My wife made a quiche - you should have some, it is the best in the world, and I'm not biased."