Kink: Rimming.

Written for the Beremy one-shot competition currently happening on Tumblr.

Prompt: Bonnie and Jeremy's first kiss underneath the mistletoe.


Laundry on Christmas Eve

She heard Sleigh Ride playing below the sound of the working washing machine in the laundry room, and she hoped it would be him. Her heavy laundry basket bounced against her thighs as she rounded the corner into the room. She laughed.

"Greetings," he said. He was sitting on top of one of the dryers.

"Oh Mariah Carey," she crooned as the song switched to the songstress' rendition of O Holy Night. "I love her."

"She's awesome."

"This is my favorite Christmas song," she shared, as she hoisted her basket onto the machine that was cleaning his clothes. She took out her detergent. "I sang it at my church's Christmas show from like middle school to high school. My dad made me. I never got sick of it, though. I mean practicing was hell, but once I was actually singing it for everybody? It was always great."

"You sing?"

She gave him a sly look over her shoulder. "A little."

"So I should make a request one day."

She chuckled to herself. "What are you doing here on Christmas eve?" she asked as she opened the machine next to his and set to separating her clothes.

"Huh, so you've learned to separate."

Looking over her shoulder again, she rolled her eyes at him. "I bought this cute blue skirt last time and one of the orange skirts I'd also bought bled all over it. I don't know why I didn't see it coming. Something told me it was a bad idea, but I guess I got in my head and did it anyway, and the blue skirt's ruined. But I still think washing everything together is faster."

"Of course it's faster," he agreed. "Just doesn't always have the best results," he said pointedly.

"You didn't answer my question."

"Christmas eve? That's when my uncle John and aunt Jenna come to visit. They don't like each other, or...she doesn't like him. She always brings around this dude: Mason. I don't think she likes him either. But she always brings him with her. My mom gets tense; my dad plays mediator, but you can tell he's waiting for all of them to leave, and there's always at least one argument with my sister. It's always been fine while I was there, but now that I have a chance to not be...I'm skipping out this year. My mom's pissed."

"Yikes."

"What about you? Why are you here to ask me why I'm here?"

"Well," she began as she put her whites in the machine, "Christmas means bickering in my family, too. My mom comes to visit. I didn't grow up with her; she kind of walked out on me and my dad, but we reconnected like three years ago, and I invited her to Christmas two years ago. I actually had two separate celebrations. One with my grams and my dad and another with my mom and my grams. My mom has issues with my grams, her mom, which is...kind of hard for me to deal with because my grams is like...my hero. She's the best, but..."

"Your mom knows a different side to her."

She turned to look at him. "Yeah," she answered. That was the first time the issue had been phrased in this particular way. She shrugged. "And whenever my mom comes around or is even brought up, things between me and my dad get...prickly...because of how he handled her absence, I guess. I just feel like...I don't know...he could've told me something about her all these years. But nothing. Absolutely nothing. I could've gone home. He and I always watch Sister Act on Christmas eve. I don't know why. You know that movie, right?"

"Of course I know that movie."

She laughed. "Just checking. But yeah. It's a cool little tradition, but I didn't go back, because...I don't know, I just don't want to. He's not mad, though. I think my mom's disappointed. I kind of think she's scared it might mean I'm over including her in stuff. Like it was a phase or something. I should call her tomorrow," she said thoughtfully.

"So why are you doing laundry on Christmas eve?" she asked.

"Right back at ya."

She laughed.

They'd been meeting like this for three months now. Laundry at two o'clock in the morning. At first they'd smiled in the way strangers do. Then they'd snuck looks at each other. Then they'd made aimless conversation about classes. Then he'd chided her about not separating her laundry. Then she'd started picking out what to wear when going to do laundry. Then he'd started doing laundry shirtless, wearing only gym shorts, and her heart had almost jumped up to her throat when she'd seen the massive tattoo spanning his chest and running down one of his arms. After that she'd leveled up to wearing baby doll nighties.

He liked the one she wore tonight. He liked all of the ones she wore. Tonight she wore red: a red nightie with black lace on the hem and over her breasts. Dean Martin was dreaming of a white Christmas on his iPod, and he was dreaming of Christmas eve between her legs. The nightie stopped just under her butt.

"I was hoping I'd run into you," he admitted.

"Oh yeah?" she asked, turning her head to look at him.

They didn't have a set date for doing laundry: not this Saturday or every two weeks. Just a set time: two o'clock in the morning, and he was always there first. And it was always when their dirty clothes had piled up.

She closed the lid on the two washing machines that held her clothes and swiped her student card to get them started. She turned and leaned against one of them.

"Why were you hoping to run into me?" she asked, cocking her head to one side.

He smiled. "Because. I like seeing you here. It's the only place I get to talk to you."

"I have no idea where in this building you live. Or if you even live in this building."

"I live in this building," he said with a smile.

"I never see you."

"Cognitive science major."

"Ew. I meant to say ouch," she laughed, which made him laugh.

"It's not that bad," he said. "How information is processed in the brain, stuff like perception and memory; that stuff's interesting to me. My dad's a doctor, so."

"Hmm. I'm doing Religious Studies and Classics, specifically Latin."

"Double major?"

"Mmm-hmm."

"I would've never guessed that about you."

"And minoring in Cultural anthropology."

"Damn."

She smiled, because he looked and sounded very impressed. "My grams is the best Occult Studies professor here."

"Oh, you have family here."

"My grams teaches, my parents met here, my great-grandmother was part of the first Black sorority here. Yeah, it kind of goes back."

"My family is Duke alumni. That's where my sister goes."

"Why didn't you go?"

"Uuuh, my grades were kind of not good enough? I kind of slacked off my senior year."

"You mean last year? You're a freshman, right?"

"How do you know?"

"Because you said this was your first chance to not be home for Christmas."

He ducked his head and smiled.

She'd buy a thousand nighties for that smile.

"Yeah, I'm a freshman. You're not."

"Junior."

"Mmmm."

She smiled and turned around for no reason at all, the nightie rubbing against her thighs.

"I've seen you, though," he said.

She turned around again. His gaze dipped to her breasts, and she noticed. "Really?"

"Yeah, walking across campus and going into this building. I don't know what floor you're on, though."

"Second. And I still take the elevator."

"I always take the stairs. Sixth floor."

She smiled. "How come you've never said hi?"

"I didn't wanna ruin what we have here?"

She rolled her eyes. Then she admitted, "I kinda hoped I'd run into you, too."

He licked his lips. "So I was thinking," he began and reached his hand behind him and brought forward a lively green sprig with white bulbs. He twirled it in his fingers, and she imagine those fingers fiddling with something else, something closer to her person. He looked up at her and extended his legs and got down from the dryer.

"Looks like you were hoping for a little more than just running into me," she said.

He didn't think she had any idea how much more he was hoping for. "In the spirit of Christmas...or Christmas eve," he amended. He walked halfway to her.

She closed the other half. Grabbing the mistletoe from him, she said, "I have one question first. I don't kiss guys without names unless I'm partying."

He smiled. "Jeremy."

"Bonnie." She got on her toes and held the mistletoe at an angle, the only way to make sure it reached above his head.

"You don't need to strain," he said, amused. He took the sprig from her and held it over her head.

She stopped him when he leaned in to kiss her, because it was the best way to cop a feel of his chest. Her imagination didn't compare to the real firmness of it. It warmed her whole body.

She slid her hand up to his neck, and he took the cue to continue his way to her lips.

The lights flickered almost as soon as they connected, but he didn't notice. The kiss was everything both wanted. Bonnie inhaled him. His lips and tongue felt like every breath she would ever take. And she was soft in his hands, hands that didn't waste time sliding up her thigh and under her nightie to the flesh of her ass.

She gasped.

"Tell me if this is too fast," he breathed on her lips.

She hooked one leg onto his hip in response, causing her nightie to ride higher.

Her ass was small in his hands. She wore a g-string.

"Is it red, too?"

"What?" Her mind was on kisses, kisses, and more kisses.

He pulled the g-string so that it snapped back against her waist. "Is it red, too?"

The smile slowly bloomed over her face. "See for yourself."

Her breath left her when he picked her up with minimal effort. She hurriedly wrapped her legs around him, and he walked to the machine currently washing her colors and plopped her down on it.

Her legs remained locked around his hips as she brought his head down for another long kiss.

He snaked his hand between her legs and hooked two fingers through the front of her underwear so that they came out the other side. He felt out how wet she was, rubbing the back of his fingers against her slit.

She opened her eyes for a second and spared a look at the door. She thanked her deities for the fact that the building was mostly empty when he started rubbing the space between his knuckles on her pussy. The RA stationed on the ground floor left at 10pm since most everyone in the building had gone home for Christmas. No one would be interrupting them anywhere, so she shifted closer to his hand, wanting more of it.

His other fingers were just a little calloused against her face, making her briefly wonder what he did in his spare time to make them get this way.

She'd slipped one of her hands down to palm his erection, rutting against his knuckles, when he stopped kissing her and said, "Let me see."

The combination of firm and hoarse in his voice made pussy clench, and she imagined copious uses for that voice. It was a tone she never expected from him.

Whoever was currently singing on his iPod was telling them to be good for goodness sake 'cause santa claus is coming to town, but she ignored them because as far as she was concerned santa had dropped off her Christmas present on the eve.

She moved the hem of her nightie close to her stomach and he slowly looked down, drawing out the reveal.

He stretched her underwear with his fingers as he looked down. Not red. Black. Black like the lace on her nightie. He bunched the material in his hand and licked his lips. Then he teased her entrance and slowly slid his middle finger inside.

She grabbed his hand and uncurled his index and pushed it against his middle finger on the out stroke. It had been a while since she'd had someone else's fingers inside of her, a whole unfortunate eight months, but she didn't think she was so out of touch that he needed to start with one finger.

She still bit her lip, and her heart still did a somersault after he looked at her, got the message, and inserted two fingers. It felt so different when it was someone else. She'd honestly forgotten.

He pumped his fingers in and out before he curled them in a come here motion. He put a hand on her chest and pushed her back, and she acquiesced, finding somewhere to rest her hands in the tight space she had on the washing machine. He pulled one of her breasts out of the nightie, and she lifted her legs, allowing his fingers to stretch deeper inside her.

He was searching for her g-spot, and she wanted him to find it because she shifted even more on the machine so that she was more sitting on her tailbone than her butt. It brought her legs higher, and he hooked one arm under one of her legs before he resumed teasing her breast, and she hooked her own arm under the other one.

The image she presented made his dick stiff. Her pussy was exposed to him in a way it hadn't been before. She was completely shaven, and he wondered if that was a happy coincidence. He hadn't been with a woman who was so into what she wanted since his very first girlfriend when he was just a freshman in high school, and she had been just a little bit ashamed to even tell him what she wanted because of the age difference between them.

Bonnie had no such reservation. He'd seen how openly she ogled his tattoo, just as he was sure she'd noticed his admiration of her ever-shortening hemlines.

She sighed deeply. His fingers secreting more lube from her pussy and stirring her orgasm. He abandoned her breast, a warmth she immediately missed, and sucked his thumb into his mouth before he he started rubbing her clit in light circles, and she would hook her other leg over her other arm if it wouldn't mean damaging her back on the washing machine. She didn't have that kind of balance.

"Oh God," she gasped both syllables.

She firmly grabbed his wrist when she could barely breathe. She wasn't ready to come and not this way.

He looked at her, waiting for an explanation, for direction, and she straightened on the washing machine.

"Maybe we can finish this back in my room?"

"Well, I've got forty minutes left on the dryer, but these machines suck anyway, and you're not even close to drying yet," he teased as if he wasn't absolutely ready to go back to her room.

"Mmmm-mmm."

"Are you sure though?" he asked, rubbing his lips against hers. "Because I've wanted to have you on top of one of these things for a while now."

She smiled against his lips as she visibly shivered. She had one breast hanging out in the cold air, and the nipple of the other was poking against her flimsy lingerie. "Next time," she promised, voice smooth as silk. "But I do have a question." And she was prepared for this to go the entire wrong way, though hopefully it would still be salvageable if he couldn't deliver what she wanted. If she was going to have one thing satisfied tonight after her eight month dry spell...

Her eyes hardened just a little. "How experienced are you at anal sex?"

He only thought about keeping his eyebrows down after they were already up. "What?" he asked with a small laugh.

She kept her smile at bay. This wasn't necessarily bad news. "How...experienced...are you-?"

"At anal sex," he finished, cutting off her patronizing. He licked his lips and dragged the bottom lip between his teeth. "Very."

She blinked, surprised. She'd thought from his initial reaction..."Very," she echoed.

"Very," he confirmed. "My ex was...very into it. And I was into giving it." This wasn't the correct time to get into the fact that his ex was a he named Tyler Lockwood. He hadn't figured out how to smoothly work it into a conversation with a girl he was interested in. He'd blurted it out two months into a thing he'd been developing with a criminology major, a senior named Anna, and, while she'd acted fine at first, their thing had quickly crumbled.

"And you're good?"

"Very."

He oozed comfortable confidence not arrogance, and she believed she could tell the difference by now. Confidence, arrogance, and a sincere blend of the two. The only person she'd known who could pull off the latter was her ex: Kol Mikaelson.

She was both satisfied and turned on by his answer. She closed her knees so she could push his legs away, and she jumped down from the washer when he'd given her enough room. Grabbing his hand as well as the mistletoe that had been forgotten behind her on the machine, she said, "Let's go."

He felt around the pocket of his gym shorts for the condom he'd brought. He might need more. "I need to stop by my room."

"For lube?"

"Yeah-"

She scoffed. "I have one, and I like it very much."

He raised his eyebrows, impressed and turned on. "And more condoms."

"You can get it after," she said, pushing the button to hail the elevator. It of course opened right away since no one else was using it.

He was getting a sense of urgency from her, like she needed his cock in her ass as soon as possible, and he hadn't thought there could be anything sexier than the image of her splayed open before him on the washing machine. He'd never been anally intimate with a woman before, but he'd definitely fantasized about doing it with her in the three months they've been running into each other. He'd thought it too good to be true when she'd asked. And why make her wait?

"And maybe-"

She was cut off when he took his hand from her, stepped behind her and dropped to his knees. Her nightie was hiked up, her g-string pushed to the side, and her ass got a lick so languorously slow and thorough and wet that her eyes fluttered close of their accord. She dropped her head back when he started to expertly tongue her asshole.

The elevators started to open, but she snapped her head forward and willed them closed, and the elevator groaned in response.

Maybe they could watch Sister Act after, but the way he was working his tongue around the rim of her ass, she knew that wasn't going to happen. The tradition was to watch it Christmas eve night, anyway. Every time he dipped his tongue in, she thought about the promise she'd felt in his shorts, that nice-sized cock. She really hoped his confidence wasn't exaggerated. That would be a great disappointment after what he was doing with his tongue.

She dropped the mistletoe and anchored her hands on the elevator doors and spread her legs, encouraging him to dip his tongue in, and he did, teasing her open, getting her ass acquainted with his tongue, and her ass did open and loosen for him, slowly but surely. She bit her lip, her clit swelling from what he was doing at her backdoor. Yes, she'd forgotten how this felt, too. After eight months, her fantasies didn't compare to this reality, to Jeremy.

Santa had dropped her present off early, and he was eager and moaning into her ass and slurping her up and swallowing her down, sniffing her, and he was pleased with what she had going on. And she had every intention of being very naughty with him.

End