Author: runninequalslife PM
Oneshot: Plagued by boredom Christmas Day, Troy Bolton and Gabriella Montez discover the pleasures of technology to unwrap the ultimate present. M rated for extreme sexual contentRated: Fiction M - English - Romance/Humor - Troy B. & Gabriella M. - Words: 9,499 - Reviews: 73 - Favs: 150 - Follows: 20 - Published: 12-08-09 - id: 5567509
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Rating: Strong M for sexuality
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters, names, places, anything from High School Musical or Disney. This story is copyright to the owner and may not be used without permission. I in no way affiliated with any of the High School Musical Cast, Disney, Kenny Ortega, or Peter Barsocchini. All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.
Summery: Plagued by boredom Christmas day, Troy Bolton and Gabriella Montez discover the pleasures of technology to unwrap the ultimate present.
A/N: Just so you know, this oneshot is the exact opposite of what I've ever believed in my writing.
There is no plot. There is no purpose for this other than to try a different style of writing as a possible option to see if I could do it at a different date. I'm not quite sure where this insanity developed from -I guess a boring Thanksgiving could be the answer. I've probably just killed my reputation as a respectable author, but uh... I hope you can understand that there was some bizarre logic in this. Like I said, it's completely different than anything I've ever written before... sorta. I know I did a scene in Never Let Go that is slightly... similar to this, but I believe the tone of that story is so different that it will be okay.
I'm going to warn right now, THIS IS NOT CENSORED! I totally understand if you feel uncomfortable reading this. I'm totally not offended... I kind of can't believe I wrote it. I don't normally ask for feedback, but I sort of want to know everyone's opinion on my first person. I haven't written with it since I was... thirteen, so I want to know if I'm one of "those people" who can pull it off. If you could let me know, that would be amazing. But please don't feel you need to review.
That being said, I REALLY hope some of you like this. And I'm very, very, very sorry I tainted a holy day.
Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays. You are amazing.
I was a guy of four major needs.
My junior year of high school, I signed up to take a psychology class. The seniors on the basketball team at the time all said it was a much better option than splintered fingers in woodworking, so I went for it. The teacher was my assistant coach, Doug Romano, and by far the most popular faculty member at East High, apart from my dad of course. He was kind of a push over –thanks to my newly crowned captain status, it was easier to slide assignments and persuade my way to extend deadlines, though that was only in the case of emergencies. Honestly, I was a decent and trustworthy student; it was enough to get me by and managed to barely skim the bottom of the honor roll. But my lack of academic progress isn't really my point.
Between brief mid-day naps and doodling mustaches on Freud's face during fifth period, I managed to filter through some of what he was lecturing. I remember one specific day –about a week before winter break when I was drunk on the daydreams of tearing up the slopes in Colorado on my much needed vacation. We were discussing the different segments and functions of the brain for what seemed like the billionth time. I was dressed clad in my white away warm ups and could hear the obnoxious sighs of the girls scattered around the room. It made me blush –I wasn't a cocky jack ass as I may have been stereotyped by other schools. To be honest, I sort of thought I had a big mouth and my legs were too skinny for my toned torso.
That specific day, Romano was jumping exuberantly around the front of the room with a cheesy smile on his face to keep the class entertained in a boring subject. We were all distracted by the game that evening at the fact that we would begin the sleep/dreams unit that was so famous once returned from break. His black curls clung tightly to his head as he continued to doodle the scribble of a brain on the whiteboard with multiple hues of markers. My eyelids were fighting to close and I fantasized over the championship that would occur two weeks after break. Little did I know at the time that my priorities would change drastically after a karaoke session in a winter wonderland.
Anyways, what I do remember about that period was the mention of a certain function that immediately caught my attention. His purple marker was stabbing at the lower brain, covering just above the poorly drawn brain stem and explained that this was not where higher thinking was present.
"The hypothalamus," Romano explained with his immature smirk over his leather skin, "is responsible for the four 'fs. Without it –just like the rest of the lower brain- we would die."
A girl seated in the front row with big brown eyes and frazzled red hair tilted her head with curiosity like he was one of her problems on the academic decathlon team, "What are the four 'f's? Is that going to be on the AP test?" She quickly scurried to her note taking skills.
Chuckling, Romano shrugged, "It's a memory technique. Something you'll learn in chapter eight. And the four 'f's are easy: Food, fight, flight and… sexual reproduction."
Someone on the football team snorted and shot me a look of amusement, muttering "fuck" as if I had never heard the word sex before, let alone receive a few mediocre hand jobs from my brief "relationships" with cheerleaders.
I guess it was at that moment that it dawned upon me that my hypothalamus was wrong on what exactly was my personal "four fs". Two of them were sort of useless –I was too much of a good guy to cause riffs with others to induce fist fights. Therefore, because I was never placed in more daring situations than whether I should take a shot from the key or drive in for a lay up, the flight was pointless too. I guess I replaced these with two others that were so dear to my heart: basketball and singing.
For some bizarre reason, these four necessities had managed to surface on December 25th at least once in my seventeen years of existence.
The former was my first love, no matter the given situation or the mood I was in, basketball was what I lived for. When I was seven years old, I came springing down the stairs at five-thirty Christmas morning in my batman pajamas. Hours later I was scolded for making such a ruckus so early, but to me it didn't matter. My cyan eyes –my now girlfriend tells me she constantly gets lost in them, so I figure they're my best feature, even if she also comments the perfection of my abnormally built abs as well- glittered with delight and the hues of the illuminated evergreen when I took hold of the scattered presents danced in the ocean waves. Finally, my parents stirred from their slumber and snapped pictures as I tore apart the brightly wrapped gifts. I remember the surge in my heart when I lifted the two tickets to the University of Albuquerque basketball game. My dad would take me, and it would only heighten my obsession with two hoops and an orange sphere.
The second need surfaced slightly more complicated on Christmas. Or, around Christmas would be a better word. I have always performed to my shower head with the latest rap from Lil Wayne or John Mayor's ballad, but that was my extent of musical experience. My mom used to sing Christmas carols under her breath while baking. She wasn't a particularly good singer, but there was something about her flat voice that reminded me of gooey chocolate chip cookies. That love was sort of unveiled when we finally made it to Colorado. New Years Eve, I sang this cheesy song with this hot book worm that just so happened to move to Albuquerque the next week and opened my eyes to how much I truly did love the arts. My friends gave no hesitation to tease me endlessly of my girly love or the way I was completely and utterly whipped by my girlfriend –but then again I was the one making out with her on Saturday nights when they were stuck playing Halo.
My third need, which is one of the original from the hypothalamus, is easy: Food. Every Christmas, my dad's side of the family caravanned over to our house would mountainous plates of cookies that threatened to avalanche to the ground. Then, after exchanging Secret Santa's that would most likely be returned the following morning and consuming ourselves in a football game, we'd all sit down at the living room table, say grace, and devour turkey sandwiches like Thanksgiving. I'd crash with a giant stomach that night, and rip through the leftovers the following morning.
However, the final need from the hypothalamus was never satisfied on Christmas. While younger and immature, my hormones had not been released yet; therefore I wasn't even sure what sex was and would not receive the satisfaction the holy day. As I grew older and my dick grew thicker, my desire and hunger also exploded into a physical need. I was pretty sure that my mom wasn't going to stuff my stockings with condoms and lubricant though, so capturing this extremity on Christmas was fairly difficult.
That was, until my pleads and prayers were granted on a particularly boring evening my seventeenth Christmas. Looking back on that day, I realize I was completely and utterly stupid, immature, and horny. Now, if the opportunity would have presented itself, I would have waved my hand and realized I had all the time in the world with her. But that night –those kisses and touches and thrusts and groans were all driven by my hypothalamus. By that need.
And it all started with a simple cell phone.
I'm fucking bored
My thumb smashed against the send button before a slammed my phone closed with a violent tremor. The hazy glow of my background picture on illuminated a blue hue over my skin as I shoved it aggressively back into my jean pockets. Feet bare of all but socks, they tapped impatiently against the hardwood of the bathroom floor. Slamming my head against the wall in frustration, my brain sloshed around my skull, for it had melted into pure glop in the six hours since they marched through the door.
I sighed and stared blankly into the blackness that surrounded me. To be perfectly honest, I sort of felt like a pouting girl with my ass cemented to the toilet seat. The cinnamon scented candle that flickered in the corner was much too heavy and I almost choked on the waft. Running my hands down my face, I groaned at the friendly chatter developing from my aunts and screams from my baby cousins that bounced from outside the door. The squeals were so ungodly annoying I was debating whether or not I wanted to chuck a basketball at their faces.
Was I being overly dramatic and moody on Christmas? Sure. But it had been an impossibly long week. My legs were run into the ground after the hours upon hours of practice my dad had scheduled for us. I was tired –physically and mentally exhausted and completely filled with 'xs and 'os –plays that would be useless to me after my last championship against West High in the next few weeks. Though in chipper attitudes, my teachers also sent no mercy the week before winter break started. Thank God for my genius of a girlfriend to save me from the ultimate senioritis and remind me daily that I still hadn't picked a college yet. I cursed myself for not being super-brain and be able to attend Stanford with her.
The phone in my pocket buzzed simultaneously with my staggered heart. I removed it from the depths of my pocket once again to view the white little envelope that informed me I had an awaiting text message. Eagerly, and placed one hand to steady my head to concentrate and drown out the sound of my seven year old cousin screaming about how she didn't like beach Barbie and wanted doctor Barbie.
Hang in there wildcat : ) they'll b gone soon
I missed her. I know it sounded pathetic and stupid, but I really truly missed her. The past week and a half and I had been consumed with so much basketball that I didn't even have time to stop by for a quick kiss or even ice cream. Honestly, we hadn't actually hung out in three weeks and apart from homeroom, I never saw her in class. Basketball owned my soul, but she owned my heart. There was always going to be a fight between them.
I wish u were here. Ur family too
Just as I finished typing, there was a soft rap on the bathroom door. Under my breath, I cursed a harsh profanity and finally unglued my butt to the porcelain. "Yeah?" I called back, struggling with my underlying bitterness. Through the darkness, I glanced in the mirror to see my sandy brown shag was slightly array and considered bed head. When finally realizing my appearance wasn't going to hide my distaste for family get-togethers, I reached for the door and squinted into the light to see my mother standing halo before me.
Her eyebrows, dark to match her hair, rose with bemusement, "I just wanted to be sure you were okay," her warm eyes scrutinized over my body, "you've been in there for fifteen minutes."
My phone exploded again and I tried to awkwardly maneuver my hand so my pants wouldn't look like they were spazzing, "I think it was the turkey."
She rolled her eyes, clearly not buying my pathetic lie, "Come be social. It's good for you."
No, it wasn't. But I obeyed her demands and dragged my feet as we reached the living room. My grandparents smiled brightly as I entered –I was the oldest, therefore the favorite of the Bolton family. I guess it sort of helped that I was famous for my basketball status despite my attempts to be an individual and not cave to my father's tunnel vision. He was seated beside the fire, which I thought was pointless since it was forty-five degrees out. Albuquerque never received snow, but I guess it was to add to the Christmas spirit.
My two aunts were on the floor with my fourteen, twelve, and ten year old cousins playing Spoons. Seated in the squishy chairs beside each other were my grandparents and they're naïve looks towards me. My mom joined my father at the fireplace, my other two uncles were on the couch I had just plopped on, and my five year old cousin was arguing with his six year old sister of whether Legos or Polly Pockets were a better gift.
I pulled out my phone again and smiled at the words on the screen.
I miss u
Blowing out of my mouth in pure distress, I let the communication device fall on my stomach and turned blankly to the TV. The Arizona Cardinals were going head to head with the Saint Louis Rams. There was nothing wrong with football –besides the fact that it was an excuse for dudes to touch each other and wear tight ass pants. I liked it, honestly, Chad and I played every so often on the weekends, but it wasn't really my thing. Maybe if my sport didn't consume my life, then I might have tried out for the Wildcats. But for now, I was stuck watching something stupid while waiting impatiently for these people to just leave.
"So Troy," My uncle, who was just as pathetically obsessed with basketball as well, turned to me with cookie crumbs decorating his face. I tried not to groan that someone was actually talking to me, "how many scouts have come for you?"
I suddenly wished Gabriella was here. She would have giggled into my shoulder and squeezed my hand, reminding me that I'm still human instead of some basketball slave. Shrugging, I trained my eyes on the TV to see that rounds of commercials began, "I don't know… a few…"
"Troy's already for his Redhawks unif…"
Whatever assumption about my future my Dad cut in after that was lost to me. The image upon the screen suddenly gave me so much satisfaction that I thought I would have an early heart attack. It was quite simple, a woman stretched across the bed in jade and crimson lingerie. There was some flash of skin on skin action and some present tied in a bow. A Victoria's Secret Angel popped up with her sultry smile and whispered something along the lines of "Merry Christmas". My Aunt caught a wary glance to her husband that the children shouldn't be exposed to this, but the cousins continued to bicker and whine as though there was nothing out of the ordinary. All except me.
The tightening of my jeans had nothing to do with the slutty model on the screen. It did, however, have everything to do with the sudden erotic images that flashed across my brain of another woman. My breath hitched when I suddenly imagined her breath on my neck, her heart hammering against her bare breast, and the final sung of my name. I could blame, or thank, the exploitation of women in this commercial, but it was only a matter of time before my boredom drew to sexual fantasies.
Maybe it was my desire to see her. Maybe it was my brain melting to mush over the lack of stimulation with my family. Maybe it was just because I was a seventeen year old boy who talked through his dick. Whatever the cause, I suddenly found myself typing wildly on my phone like I was hypnotized. Maybe I was.
What do ur panties look like?
As soon as I sent it, I regretted it. My eyes widened with horror as the "Message Sent" box popped up. Oh shit. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. She was going to kill me. Oh fuck I screwed up now.
The number of times we performed full blown sex could be counted on my hands. Despite the fact that she was anything but innocent in her caressing hand jobs and cosmic blow jobs, Gabriella Montez was still Gabriella Montez. She was coy when it came to her sexuality –in general she was shy when first met. I wasn't going to push her either, that wasn't who I was. But I realized that I just royally fucked up. I put her in a position –in front of the entire Latina Montez family I might add- that she hated. Sex wasn't taboo for us, but she still wasn't comfortable enough with her body to strip off those oh-so-teasing dresses and ride me wildly. It was new, slightly scary, daunting, with a sprinkle of mind blowing on top.
Frantically, I hurried to save myself with some pathetic apology about how one of my immature cousins stole my phone. However, instead I was greeted with another envelope on the screen. My heart slammed to a stop and I suddenly knew that the end of my life had just come. Sorry Mom, I was about to die on your couch. I winced before pressing the button that would open my fate and prayed to some god that maybe she'd have mercy.
That was, until my dick almost came right on the spot at the response.
Emerald lace thong. They'd look better if u took them off ; )
Who stole my girlfriend? That response wasn't her – it couldn't be her. And yet, the underwear she described was worn the first time I fingered her after our reunion at the Lava Spring's talent show.
My stomach tightened in a clenched in a tangle of desires and fantasies. Nervously, I lifted my head to pan my eyes side to side –just to be sure that no adult was lingering over my shoulder. Aunts and uncles were still conversing; my grandparents were still smiling at the busily playing cousins and my parents had their eyes trained on the game. I didn't want to lose the sexual tension that was traveling through the phone line, but I wanted to be sure this wasn't some cruel trick Chad was playing. I needed to know it was her.
Who r u and what have u done with my gf?
I barely had time to set my phone down before it buzzed again.
I miss u and been thinking a lot about…u
I chewed on my tongue so hard that I suddenly had the taste of copper in my mouth from blood. So maybe it was her. My hands were shaking in the dimness of the living room. The family would be leaving shortly, but it wasn't soon enough. My male anatomy starting to tent against my jeans –I knew I had to get out of here while children and my relatives were present. However, my fingers drifted faster than my brain.
Yea? About what exactly? ; )
"Troy!" Someone hissed and I was momentarily stunned that anyone else was in this universe besides Gabriella. After the initial shock wore off, I glanced over at the fire place to meet my mother's snake eyes –a ruby glow behind her growled in a fierce expression. "Phone, away."
Yeah. Over my dead body.
A strategically placed the phone onto my crotch just on the off chance that someone noticed my zipper had rose all too high. Gritting my teeth, I tried my absolute hardest –no pun intended – to creatively come up with a way to continue this smoldering conversation that was steaming between us. It was soon very obvious that the placement of my cell was idiotic –it shivered again sending pleasuring vibrations to ripple down my shaft and through my balls. I couldn't help my crystal eyes to roll into the back of my head or the muffled groan that whistled through my teeth.
"Troy? Is everything alright?" My grandma sweetly asked, concern wrinkled over her face. Her eyes were a soft periwinkle against her paled skin.
My breath almost came in quick spasms, "I'm… I'm fine. I just… bathroom…"
I didn't wait to see the response of the room. Quickly, my socks slid as I almost crashed into the blackened hallway once again. Throwing the bathroom door ajar, I dropped to my knees and huddled over the now glow that reflected in the mirror before me. The candle continued to flicker as before.
Ur eyes on mine. Ur tongue in me
Jesus. We had texted dirty before, but nothing this graphic. She wanted me dead. There was no other explanation for this insanity.
I'm so fucking hard for u
I wanted her. More than the ten speed bike when I was nine, than the laptop donated to me for my unknown college experience next year, even more than my desire to continue my musical career. I needed to see her –more than just some saucy hook up. The absence of her had proven harder than me than I thought. Her sweet giggle filled my ears, the curve of her hand in mine, the song of her breath... I wanted all of it.
My phone rang on the floor again. I practically dove for it.
I want u to unwrap one more… thing this xmas
That was all it took. I couldn't wait until the morning to see her. Hell, I didn't think I was going to be able to make another hour unless I caressed her skin. Internal combustion was on the brink of exposure. It was at that moment, with my body pathetically curled on its knees that I realized I had to see her. That I was going to see her, feel her, touch her, and taste her. There were no options, no excuses, no ways I could opt out of this. It thus commenced Operation: Unwrapped. Suck that Victoria, Gabriella had better tits than you -and they're not even plastic.
"Troy!" The irritated shrill of my mother furious scold filled the emptiness of the bathroom. Frantically, I shoved my cell into my pocket and spun around doe-eyed. Simultaneously, my mom flicked on the light with a scowl on her face. My grandma, on the other hand, was staring at me with pure concern. I felt guilty for having a throbbing boner in front of her. Thank god for the fly of my jeans to hide the evidence, "What is going on?!"
"Sweetheart!" she pushed past my purely irritated mom and slapped her hand upon my forehead like a pancake, "You're as white as a ghost!"
I guess in a way I was lucky I was so desperate to leave. Shifting my eyes to take in the reflection staring back at me, I realized I did look physically sick. My face looked about the color like that one dude from that one dumb movie about vampires Gabriella forced me to watch. Eyes frosty, I turned back to my relative and awkwardly shifted my gaze, trying to avoid her from getting to close.
My mom seemed less impressed when she crossed her arms and cocked her eyebrows, "You were fine at diner."
"I told you it was the turkey." I grumbled while my grandmother's thin eyebrows furrowed with distress. I was growing antsy and desperate to find a way out of this house.
"Lucille, I think he needs to get some rest."
And I just found my way.
Her jaw unhinged and for a brief moment, I thought it was going to fall off. My heart and my declining erection suddenly sprung into an uneven beat of a fiesta. I tried my very hardest not to smirk triumphantly at my mother, but couldn't help the cocky grin that curled on my lips, "You've got to be kidding me…"
"Oh hush Lucy," my dad's mother waved and gently grabbed my bicep to guide me out of the claustrophobic bathroom. Flabbergasted, my mom glared at me with hounding eyes as my grandma ushered me towards the stairs, "get some rest alright? We'll still be here in the morning." She reminded of how my grandparents voyaged all the way from Phoenix and traditionally stayed the night.
"Thanks Grandma." I feigned the strained sound of my voice. She swiftly kissed my cheek –I was careful not to get too close to her while I still had my problem – and then turned around to watch my mother as I slowly ascended the stairs.
I felt a hot slap against my wrist before I actually realized my mother had stopped me. The protection of my relative had disappeared back in the family room, and now it was just me and the woman who gave me birth. We didn't utter a word for a long moment and the sound of laughter from the Bolton family up roared in the distance. Her eyes searched mine with a hunt for truth.
"Troy Alexander…" She boldly started.
I held up my hand to stop her though, ceruleans firing with a plead, "Mama, please..." I begged with every inch of persuasion I had. My hands were shaking and my cock was throbbing. I knew it wasn't going to be much longer until I was doubled over in physical pain, however I could not voice my agony. She looked as though she was struggling with something as her eyebrows furrowed together.
Never will I discover what the reasoning was, but finally, she sighed and allowed a tiny hint of a bemused twinkle in her eyes, "I'm coming to check on you at eleven-thirty. If you're playing Xbox at Chad's at that time, you will be grounded until college."
Fuck me dead, was this really happening? Was my mom practically giving me permission to leave the house –as long as she didn't catch me? My heart, my brain, and my penis all erupted in pure anticipation. Unable to control myself, my eyes engorged in shock and my breath rattled with desperation. "You… I… what?!" My voice trembled as I spoke.
Her eyes narrowed into snakes once again, "I'll be up at eleven thirty."
With that, she spun around without a second glance and marched back into the living room. Dizziness suddenly swept over me like a gust of a hurricane. The room spun rapidly –I had to grip the banister to steady myself from crashing to the floor. Finally, my vision once again returned and a lump balled in my throat. This was it. I was freed. A rush of triumph surged through my veins, which only mixed my testosterone and adrenaline in a chemical reaction that yielded into a fiery passion. A need. A want. A desire.
Silently, I tip toed down the second half of the white steps once again with a smirk on my face.
Operation: Unwrapped was once again a go.
My little cousins must have put dope in the cookies I ate that night –there was absolutely no other explanation for the insanity that took over my mind.
After sneaking out of the house, which sort of consisted of me strutting out the back door without much of an effort to play James Bond, the drive over to the Montez's was sort of a blur. What I do remember is my beat up, rusty white truck coughing down the road. There was something wrong with the engine the past few days, and if I wasn't preoccupied with the though of my girl driving me instead of my vehicle, I would have taken a special notice. It might have saved me from embarrassment later on in my senior year.
Before long, I found myself creeping around the side of her ivory house. Stalking towards where the kitchen was, I felt the frigid air on my arms induce a shiver down my spine. Despite the normally toasty air, December's nights were still cold. Hell, it might as well snow. The icy wind danced beneath the willow trees delicately, yet not enough to tell my secret.
Carefully, I stepped through the winter flowers as I approached the window. Through the thin glass, I could hear the deep roar of laugher surge through the night. My eyes took hold of the warm, glowing hue of the kitchen. The clay-painted skin on the occupants cast in almost a holy light. Old and young, men to women all gathered around the table. There was a little girl with twirling black hair cradled on the breast of her plump mother, a twenty year old playing with the hand of his partner beneath the yellow wood. I recognized Maria and a Latina with the same facial shape laughing at the sink with dirty towels in their hands.
But I was blind to all of these when I took sight of her. My heart stopped and my breath was stripped violently from my lungs. Knees wobbling, I almost crashed to the ground in her holiness. She looked sweeter than a sugar cookie, sexier than a black corset.
Her arms crossed over the tight violet fabric of her dress almost nervously. Hair coiled to perfection and dancing over her back, it acted as a shield towards the fearful blush on her cheeks. Beneath her black tights, she crossed her olive toned legs and the pads of her fingers turned white as they desperately clutched an object in her hair. A silver shining object with key pads…
While reveling in her beauty, I completely forgot my sexual mission. Panicking, I dug frantically in my jeans and retrieved my cell phone. My heart stopped beating when I saw the six missed text messages glaring angrily back at me. Shit, in my tunnel vision, I forgot to text her back.
Buzzing through them, I realized they were all the same: an apology for her unnecessary and scandalous behavior. In the darkness of the Christmas moon, I frowned at her insecurity. If only she knew how goddamn entrancing she was. My fingers worked on reflex while I kept my eyes burning into her coyness. I needed her to see me –I needed her to know how much I wanted her.
Look at ur window
Breath escalading, I flipped my phone to a close and counted the seconds that she spent tapping her ballet flats. I caught the sight of her phone illuminating before she felt it, for my heart staggered with wary when her head finally jerked up with recognition. My smile widened as I noted the adorable way she almost dropped her cell with surprise. Glancing around to be sure that none of her relatives noticed –they were too involved in what looked like a vicious game of Mexican Dominos – she hurried to tap at the keys. After what seemed like twelve years, she finally looked up.
Looking into her eyes through the glass was like melting into milk chocolate. They glittered too; the twinkling lights that adorned the house had nothing on them. For a moment –I disappeared. I was stripped back to a time of innocence, a time of stolen glances across a stage. A time that I first really looked into her eyes, with the blazing orange reflection of the karaoke words upon the TV screen above. The year that had passed together seemed like seconds.
At that moment, I realized the sexual tension that built between us blossomed into something so much more meaningful, purer. I didn't come here to rattle her bones –I came her to worship her. To adore her. To love her. Whether that was with my clothes on or piled in a heap on the floor, it didn't matter. I just wanted to hold her, kiss her, touch her. I just needed her.
The gloss of her lips shimmered in the light as her mouth hung befuddled. My fingers pressed against the glass, as though I was reaching for the barrier between us. This seemed to snap her out of the trance she was in. She discretely nodded towards the ceiling, and it didn't take a super genius to realize what she was referring to.
My pulse raced as I tore away from her image, thankful that none of her relatives felt my presence. I could feel my heart hammering as I searched for the tree I knew so well –the ladder to my love. Swiftly, I dug my feet into the divvies of the bark. My hands chapped red from the cold, but it didn't stop my progress from smoothly floating up the tree. Nights of practice seemed to pay off. Finally, I had climbed high enough to swing my legs over the white, angelic rungs of her balcony. A soft "tap" patted as my black sneakers hit the solid ground and I crouched to be sure that no one else had heard me. The drapes were drawn and billowing –I held my unsteady breath as I crept towards the doors. All in an instant, a white light blinded me and the French doors flung opened.
For what felt like the millionth time that night, I couldn't breathe. It wasn't a choking feeling, it was as though I was not worthy of oxygen. Her cheeks were golden, kissed with a pink from her blush. She stared at me as though I had been absent for years instead of days. The silence only built our passion; our eyes searched each others.
I fell in love with her all over again the moment our skins brushed.
Again, I can't pinpoint exactly when she was in my arms. All I remember was the way her lips felt against mine –hungry with a hint of peppermint. The intensity of our kiss was so foreign, I wasn't quite used to the way her gripped the back of my neck like I was her lifeline. My fingers clawed and bunched her dress as we pushed backwards away from the cold night in the way that was not natural of the silky fabric. I was suddenly reminded of my hardening male anatomy.
Once her back rattled against the entrance to her room –which I might mention just so happened to be on the opposite side of the now closed doors- our kiss slowed to a languorous caress just as I flicked the lights back off again. The blackness that surrounded us was sensual in the way that the multihued of Christmas lights provided arousing shadows over her body. I couldn't control my hands; they shimmied down her side, inducing a tremble that rippled through her. I smirked into her mouth, which only was pried apart with the deepening of her tongue. Her palms cupped my shoulders when our lips finally smacked apart. I wasted no time, however, to pepper kisses against her jaw line and beneath her ear. These quickly transformed into suckles.
"Where," A kiss. "Did this," Another kiss and her hands slid down my broad chest, "come from?"
Gabriella finally pulled away from me, breathless. I did my best to try to avoid staring at her revealing cleavage bounce up and down with each rasp, "Where did what come from?"
God I loved her voice. It was like drowning in sweet honey and just the tone she spoke with caused my pelvis to nudge against hers again, "The texts," I began and nibbled tenderly on her ear, "This…" My fingers trailed over the curve of her breast.
She blushed coyly and I smiled at the hint of my shy girlfriend, "I… I don't know. My cousin and his girlfriend were talking about… stuff…"
I grinned again, "And you got inspired?"
Biting her lip in conformation, Gabriella rolled up on her toes again and hovered just before my lips, "I missed you."
"Good." I mumbled before closing the distance between us again.
My hands run down her sides again and kissed her with fervor. While playing tongue-war inside her mouth, I did my best not to roll my eyes as my fingers cupped around her ass. However, my hands slid a little too far forward and immediately she trembled with a moan. But not just any moan –it was HER moan. It was the sound of red-hot desire, a trigger to my pulsating cock in a Pavlovian response to instantaneously harden. I couldn't control myself, for the crave to listen to that moan was unbearable. Thrusting my digits forward once again, I felt her grind against my hand and widen her legs. Her dress, still collected in my palm, was thrust aside and I began to circulate gyrations over her black tights. My fingers had been in her body so many times that I knew the exact location of her nub. She pleaded mules as her eyes snapped shut –I took the opportunity to suck desperately on her neck. Her arms clung to me as though I was giving her life.
"Troy… oh Troy…" She panted, wiggling her body so I could pressure the aching spot.
Some conscious part in the back of my head reminded my animalistic instincts that the increasing pace of her of her breath meant that if I continued the task before me, I would ruin the moment. I didn't want the sensations to be over within the first ten minutes of arrival, so I removed my ministrations and kissed her soundlessly again. Gabriella slumped slightly limp in the withdrawal; however it was quickly recovered when I swung her, straddled, onto my waist and began to stumble towards the bed.
In my desperation to reach her, I guess I never really noticed that the multihued of reflections dancing on the walls did not come from outside, they were coiled around the pillars upon her canopy. Although my eyes were squeezed shut, I discovered later that her bedroom was festively decorated with evergreen and crimson for the holiday. All I really was aware of was how her lips moved with mine and the way she yanked at my shirt as her knees slid onto the comforter. She pulled me with passion and I knelt below her, elbows resting upon my shoulders as she slowed the pace of the kiss to a sensual massage.
I wanted to touch every inch of her. Whether or not my groping was pervish or not was irrelevant, my palms cupped her shoulders and outlined the valley of her figure –not without a stop to fondle her breasts. Slowly, teasingly, my fingers rolled over the fleshy surface beneath the fabric of her dress. Although she sometimes complained of how she wished she was a cup size larger, I absolutely loved the way they curled with my palms and weren't threatening Responding to the touch, Gabriella's lips moved frantically as my hands slipped down her taut abdomen. My immediate reaction was to tease and skip over her womanhood to rub circles upon her thighs, but Gabriella's gasp was almost painful.
I cupped my palm around her centre and listened to her rasping breath as she began to thrust herself against my grasp. "Oh fuck… Troy…" She pleaded and trailed her short nail down the side of my forearm. In her desperation, she applied more pressure beneath my fingers and pushed harder, increasing the friction. Needless to say, my jeans button was threatening to pop off.
She grabbed the side of my early stages of a six-pack, which only led me downwards until my torso was split between her legs. The heat of my skin was smoldering, my black sweater was much too heavy along with every other stitch on me. Dampness began to condense beneath the nylon, I knew I needed to remove her tights off as well, but the way she was rubbing against me was so ungodly erotic that I never wanted to release her
"Gab…rie…ella…" her name was muffled by her tongue. Even when I finally pulled away to speak, she nipped at my jaw line with hunger. Simultaneously, her hands snuck beneath my shirt and began to outline the contours of my chest. I trembled, unable to control the natural impulses that surged from my brain to my erection, "I gotta get these off."
"It feels… so good." She whimpered while searching for my lips and snaking her arm around to squeeze my backside. This only induced a poke from my finger into her moist secretion. Her body responded with a vibration that initiated her to push again. I was certain if I didn't stop fingering her beneath her leggings, I was certain to poke a hole through the thin material.
Kissing her once again, I nuzzled our foreheads against each other, "I can make it even better."
Blindly, I began to search for any button or zipper that would remove her from her glorious body's prison of clothes. Gabriella seemed to notice my struggle, or maybe she needed my absent touch from her opening. Whatever the reason, she laced my fingers with hers and guided me towards the zipper running as a yellow brick road to her backside. Not breaking our lip lock, I carefully cradled the back of her head as she arched to me and grounded her hips against mine. I growled at the connection of our sexes before pushing my thumb to loosen the straps of the dark material, to reveal the red, green, and white lace of her bra. My eyes widened lustfully.
"Come here." She whispered in apparent need as she pulled my cheek down once again, our lips fused together.
I reached for her nub once again; however, I was taken by surprise as she batted my hand away. Eyebrowing her curiously, I quickly discovered her intentions when she began to tap the division of my boxers and my denim jeans until she reached the stretched button. Strategically, I placed my elbows above her shoulders in almost a push-up position and allowed her to shimmy both my navy underwear and my pants until I was able to kick them off. Without hesitation, Gabriella also hooked her thumbs at the hem of my shirt as well and reached up. Before I was actually aware of it, I was completely naked.
"Oh fuck…" I groaned when she squeezed my balls and attempted to flip me over so she was in the dominant position. Waves of pleasure consumed my limbs and I was momentarily paralyzed with indulgence. Not succumbing to her desires, I instead decided that Gabriella was much too overdressed. First, I wedged my arm behind her and quickly snapped the clasp, watching as the lingerie popped off and revealed the two very erect nipples rose with eagerness. Then, I was distracted, "You're so fucking gorgeous." I whispered before taking her breast into my mouth and listened to her imprecations.
"Troy… Troy you're going to have to…" Gabriella motioned to her final stretch of clothing.
I suddenly nodded in understanding, pressing my lips to her forehead –which managed to become clammy. Rolling onto my knees, I gingerly picked her miles of legs from the division I was nestled beneath. Her brown met my blue in a sultry look of lust. Slowly, my hands pealed away the pantyhose like a second skin –her legs writhed in the air as I did so.
Her back arched, providing a delicious view of her bare chest as she did so, and she reached towards the cleaned nightstand. Opening the drawer as I finally pulled the scrap of material from her toes, she removed a crinkled, black packaging and smirked erotically up at me, "You have … one more present to unwrap."
Taking the unused condom from her grasp, my trembling hands struggled to rip open the packaging and rolling the latex over my stone member. Glancing up at her again, I was about to wedge myself between her thighs when my breath was suddenly stripped away.
She was there, all of her unclothed apart from the glittering "T" necklace that branded upon her chest. However, it wasn't the fact that I was present in front of a bare woman that halted me from my continuation to the ultimate quest in sexual domination. It was the way her hair spiraled in an array around her, quite like some masterpiece that could be studied in an ancient museum. The nerves in her irises that reflected the innocence she would forever carry glittered as she stared up at me with longing, devotion. Her normally olive skin was white –a paleness that was reflected from the Christmas lights around us. She didn't look human, quite the opposite. She looked divine, holy. An angel.
"Gabriella." I whispered, my periwinkle eyes melting with desire as I eased myself to her. Our skins were clammy, yet lubricated enough by sweat that we slipped together perfectly.
"What is it?" She breathed back, panicking slightly at my hesitation.
I swallowed –so much emotion was built within my heart that it silenced the throbbing urge in my dick. Never did I want anything more than her. The sex what an added plus; but just to be with her, in love with her was better than any present I could even receive. I cherished the moment I looked into her eyes that night and would forever remember the relishing passion of her skin beneath my fingertips as I ran my hand over the curve of her hip.
"I love you," I confessed almost silently while rolling my body onto hers. Her legs parted in anticipation, but I couldn't quite allow myself to slide into her. Not yet, "so fucking much, you don't even know."
It was not a mistake, the rush of tears in her eyes were anything but sad. Lip swollen and trembling, her fingers lifted to run through the long strands of my hair before she cupped my cheek, "Troy…"
"You're my everything." I whispered.
Prying my fingers apart, the v shape of my digits plunged into her soaking core. She gasped, unexpected by the empty sensation when she anticipated something that would fill her much more tightly. However, a man to live up to his expectations, I pumped out of her and began to creep through her smooth, yet drenched core. Stretching the sensitive skin, I pulled apart the segment that tightened the flesh of her clitoris. Delicately, I lowered the tip of my length against her bundle of nerves, rubbing in gyrating that suddenly made her eyes explode and her hips thrust up.
"Troy! Oh my god Troy …"
"Shhh…shit… baby!" I clamped the opposite hand against her screaming mouth. The whites of her eyes rolled into her head as I continued my movements, "they'll… Jesus… hear you…"
My attempts to shush her seemed useless, for shock waves of pleasure rippled from my toes to the very tip of my skull. Vision burring, I felt every inch of my body begin to shake and my orbs were curling backwards as well. Each thrust took me lower, further and further away until finally –not without meeting our steaming gazes and receiving a weak nod of approval -I sheathed myself into her internal lava.
The union was unreal, like some vivid dream that was scorned when woken up from. Violently, Gabriella bit on my shoulder to keep from crying out. Once nestled within, I kissed her sweaty temple without movement of my hips, which was quite a feat from the intoxication sensations that rippled up and down my shaft at the spongy feel of her walls. My muscles felt as though they were being electrocuted with satisfaction and jubilation. However, I finally managed to find my husky voice and graze the surface of her earlobe, barely making a sound.
"You… okay?" I moaned and nipped her ear, the pressure between my legs felt unbearable from the lack of stimulation in such a climate.
Instead of answering my question, she brought my head around and searched my eyes, "I love you." She mouthed, before kissing me zealously, giving the permission to move forward.
Holy fuck, did it feel incredible.
I wish I could describe the pleasure of our cohesion between us in words that made sense. The kisses, the touches, the licks and the thrusts were mind-blowing. I attempted to steady myself into some sort of pace as I slid in and out of her –each pump caressing my dick in a way that felt like I was dipping myself into heaven over and over again. And Gabriella beneath me, her fingers probing over the curvatures of my testicles and slid evenly over the strength of my arms. After grabbing my ass and thrusting deeper into her, she trailed back up each bump of my spine and snaked her arms around me to push her breasts into my chest.
"Fuck… Gabriel… you have no… idea…" I grunted when our forehead connected as she arched towards me. Our lips –momentarily parted by our ragged pants – hung in the air as my pelvis continued to roll into her, a fluid motion with each down stroke, "how far…are you…?" I began to ask but was muffled by another sigh of ecstasy.
Gabriella searched for my kiss again, delicately pressing her mouth to mine but struggled with her mewls as I began to rotate rapid circles around her clit again. Her legs widened in response, giving me deeper penetration into her warmth as her eyes fluttered shut in pure, yet raw, bliss. "Not… far…"
I took that as my cue to thrust harder. Gabriella clung to me, while kissing all over my neck and chest. Eyes still closed, our lips hunted into we found each other again, massaging until finally, a wave of orgasmic pleasure ripped through me like lightning. She came moments after me, drenching my male anatomy with her sweet juices and whimpering my name as though we had just christened the heavens. Then again, I wasn't sure if heaven would taste so euphoric.
Finally, the sensation slipped after long spasms and my body collapsed onto hers. I accidentally pinned her, but she was buried so deeply into the covers that I doubted she even noticed the difference. The only sounds in the room consisted of our struggle for air and our thumping heartbeats thumping in a wondrous harmony.
I never wanted to be anywhere else in my life than in her arms.
After we had both gained a sense of awareness once again, I rolled onto my side and pulled her back into my chest, burying my nose into her neck and peppering kisses across her sticky skin. "Thank you." She cranked her head around to look into my eyes after long minutes of a comfortable silence. Her face was calm, serine as she gazed at me with a devotion I probably didn't deserve.
Eyes bugging, I glanced around the black room perplexedly, "Thank me? You were the one who got me out of the hell hole."
Gabriella giggled, though I could hear the tired strain in her voice. I was going to lose her to a slumber soon, "This is the first Christmas that I got what I wanted."
I tilted my head to the side in confusion and kissed her temple, "What's that?"
Carefully, she lifted my palm and smoothed it over the surface of her stomach before lacing our fingers together in a tight lock that wouldn't be broken. I buried my steamy face into her neck at the endearment she had just given me and curled my leg around hers to be as close to her as humanly possible.
She snuggled into my chest and silently mouthed, "Someone who loves me."
There was so much I wanted to say at that moment, but watching as she turned back to face the dark sky filtering between her curtains, I realized that silence was much more appropriate given the intensity of our love.
Eventually, her eyes were fluttered closed and blissful, and I thanked a higher power for her brilliant brains to tell her mother before our meeting that she had menstrual cramps that knocked her out. Slender body spooned against mine; she mumbled my name every so often as I massaged her arms, hip, thighs, breasts –anything I could reach. But reality was ticking away, and I knew that she was drifting off into a peaceful sleep before I had time to say goodbye and returned to the relative-inhabited house.
"Gabriella?" I softly kissed below her ear, hoping for mercy that she would still be awake. Of course, my luck was running short, and the only response I received was her steady breathing. Glancing at the clock, I cursed my mother's annoying curfew.
She unconsciously pulled me tighter as I unwound myself from beneath the covers. I wanted to stay with her forever, but I had to be somewhat responsible if I wanted to ever step foot in this house again. Pealing myself from her, I crawled on the floor until I uncovered my boxers and pants. Quickly and quietly, I slid on my jeans and threw my shirt over my bronzed chest –not noticing until I returned home that it was backwards at the time. Carefully, and tip toed around her bed to smile softly into her face once more, "Merry Christmas Gabriella."
Physically and emotionally satisfied, I kissed her lips before finally turning towards the brisk night once again.
My hand was on the door when I heard a crinkle of the sheets. Turning around, I noted the way she dreamily seemed lost by my presence. Smirking gently, I removed my cell phone from my pocket –the device that started this whole Christmas need –and quickly typed a message before sneaking out the door once again.
Merry Christmas Love. U should wear those panties more often ; )