Very mature content follows. I do not claim ownership of any aspect of Life With Derek.

INSUFFERABLE

Casey sighed as she slid her jacket onto a hanger and buttoned the top button. She sighed again, more desperately, as she hung it up. She saw that hers was the only jacket in the hall closet and felt a slight swoop of happiness in her stomach – home alone! – but when she saw Derek’s leather jacket slung over a chair upon turning around, her mood soured again.

Sam. Sweet, dopey, foppish Sam.

She wished that he were better, that he were ‘good enough,’ even. But he just couldn’t – and he always looked at her after, his eyes shining under his sweaty, matted blond hair, and she had to lie to him. He had to find out sooner or later, she reasoned with herself, she would have had to tell him eventually if not tonight.

It wasn’t that she didn’t adore him, she had said, holding his calloused hands, she just didn’t like kissing him, didn’t like sleeping with him, and so she didn’t want to continue to date him. It had seemed simple enough to her: a logical conclusion. Relationships were comprised of both emotion, which had run out for her almost immediately – the thrill of the chase was gone once she had finally caught him – and physical attraction, which she just didn’t feel. He didn’t do anything for her, and she didn’t think he ever would. She had given him six months of her time. It would only have been more painful for him if she’d pretended to him any longer. She just could not make herself satisfied with Sam.

He had taken it fairly well when she told him. He stoically listened to her reasoning and wished her well; they gave each other the requisite assurance that they would always be friends.

Casey, almost annoying herself, heaved a third great sigh as she climbed the stairs to her bedroom. She paused at Derek’s door before opening her own as she heard her name.

“Casey’s just a perfectionist, Sam, I’m sure you’re not that bad,” said Derek’s muffled voice beyond the door.

Casey winced. Of course Sam would run to Derek. She should have figured. Casey went into her room and sat down at her desk, her head in her hands. She had hurt Sam, the only person she thought Derek might care about apart from himself – and maybe Ralph or Marti – and she knew she would have hell to pay.

A little while later, Casey, who had begun to annotate her Shakespeare notes to distract herself, heard a knock on her doorframe.

Casey groaned. “Go away, Derek.”

“I have to tell you something.”

Casey turned around. Derek leaned against her doorframe, arms crossed, in his favorite jeans and a heathered blue t-shirt. He looked more serious than she had ever seen him, and she felt miserable. “What?”

Derek shifted his weight, straightening as he shut the door and took a few steps into her room. He shook his naturally messy hair out of his eyes.

“Derek, what is it? I’m trying to study.” Casey felt unnerved by the look in his eyes. She had never seen Derek look at her that way, even at his most vicious. Whatever he said, she knew that it was custom-made to wound her at her most elemental.

Derek stayed silent as he sauntered closer. He put a hand on her desk, right on top of her painstakingly highlighted notes, and a hand on the back of her chair, leaning in close to her. Casey could smell his cologne, feel the heat radiating from his body. She felt surrounded and her heart began to pound. What was he about to say that he needed to see her eyes well up from this close?

Finally, Derek spoke.

“I can do what Sam can’t.”

Casey’s stomach dropped. “Wh-What?” she stammered.

“I can do,” Derek said slowly, his voice soft as suede, leaning in closer still, “what Sam can’t.”

Casey’s pounding heart seemed to stop; her fingers grew cold, her breath caught in her throat, her stomach felt like a block of ice inside her. What could he – he couldn’t possibly mean… the ice inside her became a swarm of molten lava butterflies. He was so close. His brown eyes looked into her own so intensely that she needed to blink, to stop him learning all of her secrets, to stop him from drinking her soul, but she couldn’t. He smelled so spicy and sea-green and soapy and warm. “Derek…?”

His answer was a kiss.

Casey was so stunned that she couldn’t even close her blue eyes immediately. The lips that constantly spoke such hard words against her were now so gently caressing her lips that she could hardly believe that Derek – fidgety, brash, harsh Derek – was capable. Then she was kissing back, lost, surrendering, drunk: she knew only that moment; there were no surroundings. No boundaries. No obstacles. The kiss lifted weight from her shoulders and made her toes curl. She had a hand in his hair, feeling his immense heat, holding his head to hers, her other hand on his soft cheek.

Derek’s soul sang a hallelujah as he ran his hand down her side. It had been difficult, while attempting to console his best friend, not to immediately come to Casey’s room, and in the back of his mind, he thanked Sam’s ineptitude for giving him the perfect line.

He had hated every moment that Casey was with Sam – and they both knew it, but thought that it was because he thought Sam was too good for Casey, disgusting that Sam would have picked such a keener, on and on. But it was really because he didn’t want Casey to be anyone but his own. He’d wanted her, secretly, since the moment he first saw her. His goal in every word he’d spoken since that day was carefully honed to avoid any such suspicion. She tortured him constantly: the way her ass looked in her soft flannel pajamas in the morning, the smell of her shampoo swirling through the bathroom after her showers, sound of her laugh from behind Lizzie’s door in the afternoon, the knowledge that she lay in bed only feet away every night.

Derek had cried himself to sleep the night Casey lost her virginity to Sam. He’d been able to put up a ‘Way to go, dude!’ pretense for the length of Sam’s visit to the house (Derek had been forced to not only hear the story but see accompanying hand gestures and mimicked facial expressions). After that night, he listened contemptuously every time Sam gave him the Guy’s Play-by-Play of their sexual encounters and felt sick. Whenever they were out together he obsessively thought of Sam’s lips on Casey’s body… then Casey’s lips on Sam… he couldn’t get the image of Casey writhing beneath Sam’s skinny frame out of his mind. It drove him insane when Casey would come home with her perfect hair mussed and he knew that it was from rubbing against the backseat of Sam’s car.

But never again! Casey had left Sam and now she was kissing him, Derek, like her life depended on it. Her lips were soft and sweet and parted happily for him. Derek’s hands gently pressed on Casey’s lower back, urging her to stand, to press her body against his.

Casey didn’t break the kiss as she acquiesced. Her nails raked his scalp, making him tingle, as she ran her hands through his hair. Derek’s big hands slid over Casey’s ass, pulling her closer, crushing her breasts against his chest. Casey’s nipples were so hard they stung.

Derek hoisted Casey into his arms and she wrapped her long dancer’s legs around his waist. She was wearing black leggings under her soft tunic, and they afforded little space between her crotch and the bulge beneath Derek’s worn jeans. She moaned softly into his mouth, shifting wantonly against him.

Derek finally broke their kiss to move his lips to Casey’s neck. Her beautiful head fell back to give him total access to her salty skin, her breath escaping her in a lascivious hiss. Derek’s lips and the tip of his tongue trailed down Casey’s neck to her collarbone as they fell onto the bed. Derek almost started trembling with excitement and victory has he began to kiss the smooth swell of her right breast above the low neckline of her turquoise shift.

Casey let out a moan as her hands ran down Derek’s muscled back. She found the hem of his t-shirt and pulled at it with urgency, growling when it got stuck at his arms. Derek stopped kissing her chest just long enough to yank his t-shirt over his head and throw it across the room with disdain. It landed, crumpled, on the bookshelf and Casey almost protested, but the feeling of his hot skin under her hands was enough. She could feel his muscles, so defined from hours of swinging a hockey stick, shifting under her touch as he exhaled and moved his kisses again to her neck. Casey kissed his hair and he looked up, grinning a sideways half-smile before attacking her lips with kisses again.

Derek’s hands slid down Casey’s sides, following the curve of her body, until they reached the bottom of her tunic at her thighs. Derek bit down on Casey’s bottom lip gently before pulling away from the kiss and lowering himself to be on level with his hands. He kissed the top of her thigh through her leggings and rolled her tunic up an inch. He kissed her thigh again, higher, then rolled the tunic again.

Casey squeaked, trying to pull the tunic up and off, but Derek held fast, meeting her gaze, a look of mischief in his eyes. Excruciatingly, inch-by-inch, Derek kissed his way up Casey’s body: thigh, hip, long smooth expanse of stomach, over the black cup of her bra, collarbone, neck, below her ear. Casey loved the way his lips felt against her skin, so soft and warm; his breath tickled her into having goosebumps as his kisses climbed her frame. Those soft lips found hers again in a bruising kiss as he slid his arm beneath her to unhook her bra. He growled into her mouth as he pulled it from her body and threw it, too, across the room. Casey heard it hit the lamp with a metallic clink.

“God, Casey,” Derek whispered, cupping her breasts. “You really are perfect.”

Casey was delighted, but could only moan in response as his thumbs sketched featherlight circles on her hard nipples. Her hands shook as they found their way down his hard abdomen to the closure of his jeans.

Derek was so hard it was a wonder to Casey that he had blood left in any other part of his body. Even through his jeans, Casey could feel his size and just wanted the jeans to be gone so she could touch him. Derek shifted with an almost inaudible groan and Casey bit her lip, feeling herself grow wetter as Derek stared straight into her eyes, wetting two of his fingers between his lips. His wet fingers found her right nipple as his mouth finally found her left.

Casey saw stars and moaned louder yet, tearing open Derek’s jeans and pulling down the zipper. She frantically pushed the jeans away from his hips and he kicked them away from his knees and onto the floor at the foot of Casey’s bed. Casey cursed herself for wearing cumbersome leggings and struggled to peel them down without jarring Derek.

Derek could feel that Casey was struggling with the removal of her leggings, but didn’t notice: he was completely absorbed in what he was doing, mesmerized by the perfection of her breasts. He had seen a lot of them – Casey’s were his forty-second and forty-third, respectively – but had never been so enamored as now. Sam had said they were “nice,” and Derek was scandalized – only “nice!” Sam was insane! They were perfect. Derek was completely in awe. They were beautifully round and firm, perfectly appleine C-cups, her dark pink nipples the size of quarters. He couldn’t have stopped his manipulation of her nipples if he tried.

Then he felt Casey’s smooth, lean leg curl around his lower back. He could feel her silk panties, wet, pressing against him through the slit in his boxer shorts and his desire moved southbound.

Derek growled Casey’s name and scraped his bottom teeth against the underside of her puckered nipple with the lightest pressure. He lifted his head and kissed Casey’s face: her cheeks were flush pink and her lips swollen.

Casey took his chin into her hand and stared him straight in the eyes. “Make good on your claim,” she whispered, her usually calm eyes unrecognizable through the curtain of want.

Derek’s face broke into a dazzling, smug grin. “I will.”

Derek knelt between Casey’s legs and gently ran his hands over Casey’s body, amazed by her, silently praying that he would make good on his claim; all he wanted was to give pleasure to the heavenly body before him. His hands traveled over her breasts, making her gasp; down her perfect, toned stomach; in the same motion his fingers hooked the sides of the seamless silk panties and he pulled them down, away from her center; her leg bent to help him but he didn’t notice for his enthrallment.

The world melted away and all Derek could see was Casey, open, waiting for him, so neat and clean that the thought flitted across Derek’s mind that Casey must use a slide-rule when she shaved to get her hair so perfectly trimmed, and so wet she shone, waiting, waiting.

Casey watched in slow motion as the index finger and thumb on first Derek’s left hand, and then his right, slipped between his lips, wetting them, and moved to her nipples. She moaned quietly as he rolled the pink skin between his fingers and bent forward, kissing her stomach just below her navel.

Derek wet his lips and kissed her body, letting his tongue slide over her red skin, as above him his fingers drew lazy figure eights on her nipples. Casey gasped, her eyes shutting, as Derek’s lips and tongue played so smoothly against her vagina that he felt like warm velvet. His messy hair tickled the crease of her thighs and her belly as his head nodded: yes. His tongue was magic. Casey knotted her fingers up in his hair, her toes pointing hard, her hips moving, unabated, in time with Derek’s head, her clit rubbing against his velveteen tongue with increasing speed, increasing need, the heat inside her building with every touch. Without even realizing it, Casey’s voice had grown, her moans no longer soft but loud, ragged, carnal.

Derek had noticed. He wanted to keep her moaning, he wanted to make her scream. As he continued his ministrations with his tongue and his supple lips, he quickly took his right hand from her nipple and pulled down his boxer shorts, pinching her nipple with a tweak as he replaced his hand. Casey was obviously beyond the beyond, her fingers pulling on Derek’s hair so hard it hurt, her the movement of her hips more spastic twitches beyond her control than the rhythmic rolls they had started, her voice more impassioned than Derek could have imagined as she cried his name over and over in ecstasy.

In one swift movement, Derek regretfully pulled his tongue away and pulled himself up and over her, thrusting into her before she even had time to stop moaning. And Derek was gone. With a grunt, he nuzzled his face into Casey’s sweaty, sweet neck.

Casey’s breath caught in her throat and she fell silent with a crash. Her blue eyes flew open. Derek filled her. He was physically bigger than Sam had been, but it was more than that, it was more than width and depth and length, it was something indescribable. She felt his hips against her own for just a moment as he kissed her neck, sucking the smallest bit – not enough to leave a mark – before he pulled out of her almost to the tip and sunk back inside where they were both safe. Her hands had found his ass and she was digging her nails into his elastic, freckled skin, trying in vain to push him deeper. By the third deep thrust it was clear that Derek did not need to search for a rhythm: he knew the moment he first slid inside Casey what both of them needed. Casey moaned softly, shakily, as Derek kissed her collarbone wetly, thrusting harder.

Derek reached around his back and grabbed Casey’s hands. Bringing them around in front of him, he kissed the inside of her wrists raggedly, lacing his fingers with hers, and Casey sighed with delicate pleasure. Then Derek, biceps tightening, held Casey’s hands immobile above her head, flat against the cool bedclothes.

“Derek!” she yelled, half-moaning and a bit wound up.

Derek gave her another exhausted, exciting white grin, wicked, and arched his back, bringing him deeper into her warm body and bringing his lips back to her right breast, suckling it, his eyes open and trained on her face.

Casey’s eyes were open but rolling with elation, her swollen pink lip caught between her teeth as she growled, the sound emanating from her so different than her usual composure. Casey snarled as she strained to move her arms, to wrap them around his body and run long pink scrapes into that perfect eggnog-with-nutmeg skin of his back with her fingernails. She could still move her long, limber legs and wrapped them around his waist, keeping him close. Derek was thrusting into her as quickly as a hummingbird and with so much strength that Casey could hear her headboard knocking over and over into the wall.

His breathing heavy, Derek transferred the position of his arms so that he held both of her thin wrists in one big, hockey-calloused hand. He ran the other over Casey’s glistening torso and down her hip, following the smooth bend to her leg. He urged it from its place around his waist and, having been made to watch her stretch every day and never able to say a word, unfolded the beautiful tan limb, placing it over his shoulder. He shifted his position, too, never losing his rhythm, able to reach new places within her. Casey cried out, her back buckling, still unable to move her arms, and Derek tauntingly kissed the sleek leg propped on his shoulder.

Casey loved watching Derek as he fucked her. She liked the bulge of his bicep as he held down her arms. She watched his pulse pound in the vein of his neck. She marveled at his sweat trailing down his well-formed chest and abs in shining rivulets, highlight and shadow as he thrust continuously into her. That, too, amazed her; she couldn’t seem to tear her eyes from their dark curls – almost matching – meeting and parting, his purple-red silken shaft shining with her, in and out and in. She watched his face, unreadable, flushed cherry and sweaty and beautiful, absolute focus in his knitted brow as he bestowed pleasure upon her, pride in his eyes each time an orgasm wracked her frame.

Almost eighty minutes and more than four positions later, the room an absolute disaster – papers and books on the floor from when Derek lay sprawled on the desk, Casey atop him gyrating, her beautiful breasts bouncing and her palms pressed against his impressive pecs for leverage; mirrors askew because Derek’s thrusts when Casey was pressed against the cold wall seemed to shake the very foundations – Derek and Casey were back in bed, Casey’s long lean legs again wrapped around his milkwhite waist, right where they started, Derek’s arms shaking as he tried to hold himself up, his lips against her ear as he breathed, his every exhalation a groan. Casey’s legs, too, shook, her long brown hair a mess of sweaty strands sticking to her face. She kissed Derek’s neck up and down, biting his shoulder as she came again, and Derek groaned at the pressure of her teeth, sighing through his nose as finally, buried deep inside Casey, he let himself go.

Derek’s arms collapsed and he nuzzled his face into Casey’s warm, wet neck, gasping for breath. The deep scratches Casey had wrent in his back stung as his saline sweat dripped into them. Every one of his muscles was beginning to ache. But he had never felt better in his life.

Derek kissed Casey’s neck one last time and pushed himself off of her, suppressing a yawn. Casey rolled onto her side and Derek curled behind her, small and wet now, pressed against the roundness of her ass. Casey smiled, her eyes closed, as she felt a hand gently stroking the sopping hair back from her face, lips kissing her temple. Without the warmth of Derek’s body, the sweat on her torso began to dry and the air felt glacial. Derek’s hand rubbed the length of her arm as he curved it around her, holding her close.

“So it seems I was right. As usual,” Derek said, his usual unctuous tone tingeing his tired voice, his hand drawing lazy hearts on Casey’s stomach.

“You’ve always been right,” Casey mumbled, reaching her hand behind her to push Derek’s hair off his flushed face. She realized what she’d said only after it left her and she couldn’t take it back.

Derek propped himself up on an elbow and looked down at Casey, his eyes twinkling. It was too easy. “I’m sorry, Case, I didn’t hear that. What did you say?”

Casey pursed her lips, too pleased with him to be annoyed. “You’ve always been right.”

Derek raised his eyebrows. “See, Case, if you had just admitted that from the beginning, maybe you wouldn’t have had to suffer through Sam.”

Casey raised her eyebrows right back, smiling at his smirking face. “And poor Emily wouldn’t have had to suffer through you.”

Derek’s jaw dropped. “Oh, really?” he asked, his hand sliding down from its place at her stomach. He felt his own wetness leaking from her and smiled through his façade. “And I thought I was insufferable.”

Casey couldn’t help laughing at Derek’s misuse of the word. She rolled over, intertwining her leg with his, pressing him against her, feeling him – hard again – slide against the freshly-fucked openness of her orchidlike red lips. She kissed him. “You are. You are absolutely insufferable.”

Derek smiled, gathering her long hair into his hand, twisting it away from her neck to blow on it gently, making Casey shiver. He shifted his hips, teasing her, knowing she was ready again. “And better than Sam.”