“Just a little,” despite her reply, Emily can’t help the wide grin that spreads across her face.
Almost immediately, Arthur lets go of her hands and buries his face against her neck, curling against her as if he wanted to get swallowed up by some interdimensional warp. Knowing him and his little obsession with Doctor Who (which he continues to deny), it’s probably not a bad guess at his thought process.
“I-I-I’m sorry!” he says self-consciously, his ears pinking adorably. “I was just trying to sound, to sound—”
“Sexy?”
“Yeah…”
Aw! Artie’s so fucking cute. With slightly pink cheeks, Emily giggles softly and runs her fingers through the poor boy’s ash blond hair, making sure to be as gentle and comforting as she can.
“Oh, Artie, don’t worry about it, really.” I really like how you always make an effort to keep my interest. “You’re actually getting better at this.”
“Stop making fun of me,” Arthur grumbles.
I’m not. Emily frowns, wishing (not for the first time) that she could say what’s in her head—all the words she hopes might comfort Arthur in some way, give him the confidence he needs. Because, as much as he denies it or hides behind whatever hardened mask he’d crafted for himself, Emily knows firsthand that Arthur has one hell of a low self-esteem. Sure, it hadn’t been that obvious to her when she’d first interacted with him during the course of their first two years of attending World Academy, but her eyes had been opened the summer before, when she and Arthur had first slept together.
Emily hums thoughtfully and stares up at the ceiling, her hand still threading through Arthur’s choppy locks. What can I do…what can I say…?
Something catches her baby blue eyes; a wooden chair behind the desk, one that had been carved of an ornate design, with a red cushion on the seat and the arms covered with a plush red leather covering. Emily blinks at the seat, and then a small smile forms on her face.
“Hey, Artie?”
“Yeah?”
“How long until your meeting starts?”
Arthur glances up to check his watch. “Ten minutes. Why?”
“I’ve got an idea.” Her grin grows as she nods her head. “Take a seat.”
Arthur looks up to stare at her with flushing cheeks and a confused expression. Then he sees the chair and his eyes glint with a recognition of some kind, one that causes his blush to increase. But Arthur doesn’t argue; he pulls out of her, with some reluctance, and walks to sit on the chair. With a shimmer of nervousness flashing in green, he watches as Emily stands and walks over to him. She straddles his lap, lifting herself up so that her sex is hovering over him, and she smiles widely at his crimson face.
“Takes you back, doesn’t it, Artie?”
Arthur blinks, and then scowls—though if one were to look a little closer, you could see the embarrassment and shame in his eyes.
“You promised you wouldn’t mention th—AH!” His eyes widen as Emily sits on him, taking him in once more. Then they clench shut, his mouth parting to let out soft groans of pleasure and his hands tightly clenching at the arms of the chair.
Passions Spent (Sequel) 1c/1
“D-did I go too far…?”
“Just a little,” despite her reply, Emily can’t help the wide grin that spreads across her face.
Almost immediately, Arthur lets go of her hands and buries his face against her neck, curling against her as if he wanted to get swallowed up by some interdimensional warp. Knowing him and his little obsession with Doctor Who (which he continues to deny), it’s probably not a bad guess at his thought process.
“I-I-I’m sorry!” he says self-consciously, his ears pinking adorably. “I was just trying to sound, to sound—”
“Sexy?”
“Yeah…”
Aw! Artie’s so fucking cute. With slightly pink cheeks, Emily giggles softly and runs her fingers through the poor boy’s ash blond hair, making sure to be as gentle and comforting as she can.
“Oh, Artie, don’t worry about it, really.” I really like how you always make an effort to keep my interest. “You’re actually getting better at this.”
“Stop making fun of me,” Arthur grumbles.
I’m not. Emily frowns, wishing (not for the first time) that she could say what’s in her head—all the words she hopes might comfort Arthur in some way, give him the confidence he needs. Because, as much as he denies it or hides behind whatever hardened mask he’d crafted for himself, Emily knows firsthand that Arthur has one hell of a low self-esteem. Sure, it hadn’t been that obvious to her when she’d first interacted with him during the course of their first two years of attending World Academy, but her eyes had been opened the summer before, when she and Arthur had first slept together.
Emily hums thoughtfully and stares up at the ceiling, her hand still threading through Arthur’s choppy locks. What can I do…what can I say…?
Something catches her baby blue eyes; a wooden chair behind the desk, one that had been carved of an ornate design, with a red cushion on the seat and the arms covered with a plush red leather covering. Emily blinks at the seat, and then a small smile forms on her face.
“Hey, Artie?”
“Yeah?”
“How long until your meeting starts?”
Arthur glances up to check his watch. “Ten minutes. Why?”
“I’ve got an idea.” Her grin grows as she nods her head. “Take a seat.”
Arthur looks up to stare at her with flushing cheeks and a confused expression. Then he sees the chair and his eyes glint with a recognition of some kind, one that causes his blush to increase. But Arthur doesn’t argue; he pulls out of her, with some reluctance, and walks to sit on the chair. With a shimmer of nervousness flashing in green, he watches as Emily stands and walks over to him. She straddles his lap, lifting herself up so that her sex is hovering over him, and she smiles widely at his crimson face.
“Takes you back, doesn’t it, Artie?”
Arthur blinks, and then scowls—though if one were to look a little closer, you could see the embarrassment and shame in his eyes.
“You promised you wouldn’t mention th—AH!” His eyes widen as Emily sits on him, taking him in once more. Then they clench shut, his mouth parting to let out soft groans of pleasure and his hands tightly clenching at the arms of the chair.