“Am I your type?”
“Based on your initial impression of me, would you have believed you’d fall so deeply in love with me?”
“Oh, well now, I think that’s stretching it a bit.” But she smiled anyway and only curled up closer. Resting her cheek on his shoulder, she thought aloud for both his pleasure and hers.
“Based on my initial impression of Lelouch vi Britannia, would I have believed I’d date a rebel punk who drinks and smokes-”
“-used to smoke,” he corrected.
“-Pardon me, used to smoke? Would I have believed I’d date someone who rides a motorcycle and has a pierced ear?”
“A tattooed punk?” he added.
Flushing furiously, she abruptly stopped at the mention of his tattoo. That had only been recently found out information. After they had made up that afternoon earlier in the week, they had gone inside together to catch up on what time they had lost, meaning that things had gone significantly farther than she had thought they would. There had been a lot of touching and exploring of hands as the warm afternoon light washed over them, and while it had been exciting, she didn’t really like to think about it much. She didn’t regret what had happened, but it embarrassed her to think about it, and as she sat there in his lap with his hand keeping her skirt up so it covered her with some sort of decency – it was a pretty short skirt – with his hand touching her so high up her thigh, it was starting to remind her of all the exquisite details.
The memory was hazy, but she could vaguely remember his hand slipping beneath her shirt and bra and how his fingers had teased her and made her moan until she was feeling a sort of frustration that, had it gone completely unrelieved, would have probably driven her insane.
And then there had been the discovery of his tattoo after both of their shirts had somehow ended up on the floor and she was straddling him and could feel that bulge that sent an unfamiliar heat rush through her and made her short of breath until the excitement had become at first ripples of pleasure and then gradually larger and larger waves with every move of her hips until she squeezed her eyes shut and tensed against him, gasping as she… Well… It had been her first time experiencing such sensations, and even though there hadn’t been any penetration per se, it had been undeniably satisfying for her. For him too, she remembered, what with that way he had moaned her name and the subsequent dark, damp spot on his briefs.
“C.C.? Are you alright? What’s wrong?”
Dazed, she blinked at him. What had he just said? Who was feverish? Was someone sick?
“You look feverish.”
“Um…” She swallowed with some difficulty. When had the room gotten so hot? What was going on? Why was it so loud? Who’d turned up the music? A party was a party, but this? This was too loud. Crossing her legs, she bit her lip as she tried to find something – anything – to distract her from this vaguely familiar feeling. When had she experienced this before?
Oh, right. That afternoon when they had…er…”pleasured” one another. Dry-humped. Whatever you wanted to call it.
“Do you need to go home? Do you want to leave? I don’t mind if you do.”
“I, um…” Her eyes finally meeting his, she stared, struck silent by his black hair and his pretty, pretty violet eyes as they stared at her, worried. Wow. She caught herself briefly wondering what it would feel like to have those eyes freely roam her body as they pleased, and whether it would make the dampness between her legs go away or worsen. Probably the latter.
“Yeah, I… I think I need to go somewhere quiet… Is there somewhere we can go where the music isn’t so loud? Somewhere preferably dark?”
When she caught him staring at her, she swept her hair over her shoulder and fanned herself with a hand. Feeling the heat radiating from her cheeks, she tried to smile at him and act as if everything was normal. “I’m really fine. Just a little hot and tired. I think the beer finally got to me.”
“You only had one,” he gently teased. “What’ll I do with you if you can’t even handle one bottle?”
“The number of times I’ve drunk can be counted on one hand. I’m sorry I’m not as worldly as you.”
She smiled, but when he leaned in to kiss her and she felt his warmth and smelled his scent, she couldn’t help but whimper. How could someone get this excited over nothing?
“I, um… I need to lay down somewhere, Lelouch. Please.”
Nodding, he gently nudged her off his lap. Standing up, he took up his jacket from where it lay strewn over the back of the armchair before reaching for her hand. Together they picked their way through the others until they found their hostess, who was in the kitchen and was happily working on a bowl of nachos and a bottle of beer.
“Is there a quiet room we can go to, Milly?”
“You can use my room. No one should be in there. Just don’t get anything on the sheets, okay?” she teased. C.C. tried her best to act disgusted, but all that came to mind was that afternoon, throwing her off so she couldn’t even frown
“Thanks, Milly,” he piped in.
Gently squeezing his hand, she followed him up the stairs. Drawing her close, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
“Which door is it?”
“The one at the end of this hallway.”
Flicking the lights on, she slipped her shoes off before diving into the bed. Wriggling beneath the sheets, she peeked out to see him coming to sit on the edge. Freeing her hand, she took his extended hand.
“So now that I’ve seen your best friend’s room, when can I see yours?”
“There’s nothing much to see. Milly’s room is better than mine.”
“I’m not trying to see your room to look at the furniture.”
Much to her chagrin, she flushed. She understood what he was implying. He wasn’t interested in seeing the color scheme of her room, he was interested in what they could do in the privacy of such a room. Well, of course he was. He hadn’t really told her, but she’d seen the condoms that one time she had slept over and had opened the drawer of the bedside table. Of course, it hadn’t looked as if he had bought them recently, which meant that he intended on keeping his promise to her about waiting for as long as she wanted, but seeing them had only made her realize that reality that he was not in fact a virgin and had more experience than her, however much more it was and that he probably did kind of miss it. She had only had a small taste, and she was already curious for more; she could scarcely imagine what he was going through.
Sighing, she sat up. Bringing her knees close to her, she tugged his arm until he sat beside her on the bed.
“What is it?”
“…Do you miss having sex?”
He sat quietly for some time, making her wilt, when he said, “I’m going to be frank with you, it is something that we haven’t done. But I love you more than I like sex, and I don’t really care about that kind of stuff. Unless it makes you uncomfortable in any way, in which case I do care then because I want you to be comfortable and happy.”
She waited to see if he was joking, but he apparently wasn’t because his serious expression never faltered. Unable to stop herself from smiling – how could he make her heart to flutter so easily? – she pulled him down.
“You know, for a punk, you’re surprisingly sweet.”
“How could I not when you’ve made me the luckiest man in the world?”
Beaming at him, she giggled as he leaned down and softly kissed her cheek. Closing her eyes as he kissed her nose, her other cheek, then settling on her lips, when she touched his face and broke away.
“I would be honored.”
And then settling down together, they lay together and cuddled the night away.