[Nasturtium]: Victory in battle

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I pull back when Connor doesn't reply for a brief second, and the moment I do, he throws his head back and chuckles humorlessly, his eyes on the high ceiling.

"Fucking hell. You're so desperate sometimes, it's funny to watch."

I look away, to act unaffected as if I don't feel like he'd just punched me on the face, when suddenly my eyes land on the pocket sketchbook open before him, and widen.

My whole body freezes for a second, and even when he shuts it and covers it with his huge hand, I still stare at the black leather on the front.

The corner of my mouth starts to slowly turn up into a small smirk, because my God, I'm not the only desperate party in this.

I recover from the shock, and slide my eyes up to Connor's face again. He's staring ahead of him, the sarcasm and humor all gone from his features. He even looks pale, if I'm being honest. And he should, because I'm never ever letting him live this down.

A hypocrite, that's who he is!

"Am I?" I say with a low voice, getting braver and braver because of what he does in secret, when he knows I'm not watching him. "Am I really, when you're the one still dreaming about last night so much, you are painting it?"

Slowly he turns his sculptured face to me and narrows his eyes, but I don't back down even when he gives me a threatening and empty stare.

I'm certain about what I just saw in his pocket sketchbook. There's no mistaking it.

It was a messy, unfinished quick sketch of the upper part of me in the nightgown, with its undid bow, my neck, bare shoulders, my chest and even the small birthmark on the inner inside of my breast.

It looked so insanely realistic, there is not a chance for me to confuse it even if he hasn't given that sketch a face - my face.

"Show me," I whisper trying not to make too much noise. "Did you draw me on the rest of the pages as well?"

"You think it was you? Stop being delusional."

"Oh, it was me!"

"Fuck off," he mumbles without a decent comeback, which makes me think he's really flustered. He starts to hide the sketchbook in the pocket of his sweatpants to pretend it never happened, but I'll be a stupid, stupid girl if I let him do it.

"Come on. I want to see what you saw." I smile proudly, fighting him off under the table, as I keep trying to reach for his sketchbook.

"A mistake. That's what I saw that day. A mistake I made under the influence."

I tilt my chin up to look him in the eye to convince myself he doesn't mean it. And even when I don't find any warmth in his gaze, I still tell him my truth.

"You weren't drunk though. And it wasn't a mistake to me. I wanted you. I still do." I confess simply, and I don't think I've ever said anything so honest and easy in my life.

The whole world stops existing as our gazes lock and I can feel him still completely, as if he's waiting for me to laugh and tell him I am joking.

A rush of adrenaline runs through me, as I take advantage of his confused state to reach around him like lighting, and grab onto his sketchbook.

He starts to pull it out of my grip at the last second, but I snatch it out of his grip and immediately push it under me, crossing my legs so he can't reach it.

"Should have fucking known." Connor swears under his breath before turning to me abruptly. His right hand grabs the spindle of my chair and drags me to him along with the chair, making a loud noise.

I gasp, the act so hot, I think I start to sweat. The playful smile slides off my face, replaced by red cheeks as I come face to face with him.

"You think I can't get it from between your legs?" He raises a brow, making me feel like he's staring into my soul. "You really think it will stop me?" His voice drops to a husky whisper the same time I feel his hand rest on my calf, his thumb tracing it with slow and precise movements.

"Or did you do it just because you want me to touch you again? I can do that, you know." He leans into me, his dark whisper in my ear making me breathless. "I can fuck you here in front of everyone, so every single one of them knows you are a dirty. little. slut. for me." He says stressing each word slowly, his hand sliding up to my knee.

"There are people around." I say with wide eyes, fear creeping in.

"Is that your only excuse?" He smirks, parting my legs with one hand, my eyes watching his fingers under the table and breath picking up.

"You're trying to distract me..." I mumble not sure what I'm saying or what I actually want him to do - let me go, or keep testing my boundaries.

"And it's working." He whispers as his hand slides up between my thighs, making me gasp and prove his point.

His fingers dig inside my left thigh, close to his sketchbook and the most private part of me.

"Give it back," he whispers as his fingers slide up my inner thigh, past the waistband of my jeans and rest over my navel picking from between my jeans and crop top.

When I shake my head no, his fingers snap the button on my jeans with a single movement, before he starts to slowly, maddeningly slowly lower my zipper.

"Connor... don't you dare tr..." I cut myself off as he pushes two fingers inside my jeans, resting them right between my thighs, the only thing now separating his skin from mine being my underwear.

My wide eyes fly up to his face, only to see him facing forward with a serious, bored expression on his face, so everyone looking at him would never guess that right under the table, in this room full of people, he has his right hand between my legs.

"Oh, I will, Little Monster. Should have thought about it sooner." He says with a dark voice, not even glancing at me.

"There are people here, Connor."

Finally he turns his head to the side briefly, a smirk decorating the right corner of his sinful mouth, as his eyes burn with mischief.

"Then you better keep your moans down..."

"This is not..." I want to say right, but my word is cut off when he presses his fingers against me.

I grip the sides of my chair with both hands, trying to not make a sound that will definitely echo throughout the whole space.

The only thing saving my dignity is the position of this table and the dim lights. And that everyone around us seems to be studying hard, most with their headphones on.

When his fingers press harder against me, and then slide halfway in along with my underwear, I find myself shamelessly rocking against his hand, trying to increase the pressure he's knowingly denying me.

Oh God, it's the most shameful and perverted thing I've ever done in my entire life, but why does it feel so, so freeing at the same time.

I lower my head to hide my face from everyone around us, but instead a loud breath leaves my lips when I catch sight of Connor's hand inside my jeans. Ashames and extremely on the edge, I lean my elbows on the table and bury my face in my hands.

I hear Connor chuckle next to me, but I don't even dare to look at him, because if I do I will just explode!

Having my vision blocked, all my other senses intensify. In my head I visualize the way his fingers carass me,  so slow and yet firm, as if he has spent eternities learning how to touch me. As if he hasn't stopped thinking about it since last night.

Suddenly, I feel Connor jerk my underwear to the side and just as quickly push a finger inside me.

My teeth sink into my lower lip so hard, I can feel the metal taste of blood in my mouth. And even though I manage to control all the screams and noise I'm desperate to make, my chest is moving uncontrollably with all the locked up emotions inside me.

"Now, eyes on me," I hear Connor's voice right next to my ear, his breath making goosebumps run down my skin.

I shake my head no, because I don't think I can endure it. I physically won't be able to take it if I look into his eyes, and I will have to scream it all out.

"Very well," I hear him mumble and the next thing I know he pulls his fingers all the way out of my body. I freeze for a second, but before I can open my eyes and complain about his punishment, or do anything about it to make him go back to touching me, he pushes two fingers back inside me with the strongest force I've ever felt in my life! 

My whole body automatically responds to the touch, leaning over the table with a harsh push as if I'm possessed. My chair scratches over the floor, the loud noise suddenly ending my exorcism, as my eyes widen with realization.

Slowly and dreadfully I remove my hands to see some students turn around in their seats, looking for the source of the noise before diving back into their assignments.

Cheeks burning hot, I turn my face to look at Connor and he's already watching me with eyes so dark I think I might be staring into the depths of the most breathtaking forest.

His face is serious, put together and not one person looking at him can guess what he's doing to me under the table.

Jesus, how can he look so composed right now, when he still has his whole hand inside my panties, moving without any hesitation.

Still holding my gaze, the left corner of his mouth turns up into a secret smirk, satisfied having me obey his command and look at him. But then his gaze travels down to my mouth, my lower lip still trapped between my lips, and his eyes suddenly start to cloud with desire and determination.

Oh my God, I think if I don't scream right now, I'm going to die.

Was this his plan all along? To kill me with a maddening orgasm and then bury me with a single look?

"I need to, I-I can't..." I stutter with a breathless gasp, grab his arm under the table with both hands to silently tell him to stop. After a slow second he does, making me wince under my breath when his fingers leave me.

My hands are trembling as I zip myself up with as quick and yet unnoticeable movements as possible, before jumping to my feet like I'm burning within.

Without another look his way, I turn around and rush toward the exit of the library, my heart racing under my chest and blood rushing to my head.

My feet are quick and determined even if I have no idea where I'm going. I'm not angry or sad because of what we've done, I'm just stunned that I let him touch me like that in front of so many people without being mortified.

I'm ashamed of myself for thinking this was the most risky and yet the hottest thing I've done in my entire life. So the reason I'm really running away from is me, the one I will never be able to escape.

As I keep walking away, I can't stop thinking how great of a poker face Connor can actually wear.

Is this why they are all calling him Trouble? Because you'll never be able to tell what hit you until he's walked all over you?

Or maybe because he can turn your whole existence upside down within a few seconds and a few touches?

Has he done this to other girls before? Is that why he was so good... so good at it?

I'm out of the main hall of the library, and passing the separate study rooms for group sessions, when suddenly I feel a hand wrap around my wrist and pull me inside one of the semi-dark study rooms.

While I'm trying to grasp what's happening, I'm pushed against the nearest wall. A hand rests on my lower back to push my body against another, before the sound of the lock fills the empty room. I'm about to scream and punch, when a big hand clasps to my mouth, silencing me.

"Shhhhh," I relax when I hear Connor's voice echo in the silent room, feeling him press his forehead against mine, one hand still covering my mouth.

Because there's only one small table lamp on, I can't see his face clearly at first, so he's just a shadow hovering over me like a deadly God. But once my eyes get accustomed to the darkness, I can finally make out his features.

"Need to make you come." He breathes out and I gasp with surprise and desperation. "Let me take care of you," he whispers again, his voice so deep it rings in my chest.

He then removes both hands off of me, giving me space to decide, to choose whether I'm leaving or staying.

I can feel his eyes burn my face, and when his shadow tries to take a step back, panic sets in.

I don't want him to give me space. I want him to keep touching me until there's nothing left of me.

My hands instantly reach to grab his arms and pulling him back against me, so now our foreheads are pressed together, his very obvious eraciton pressed against my stomach.

Standing on my tiptoes, I wrap my arms around his neck, all the while nodding frantically. 

"Take care of me," I mumble breathlessly as if I'm sharing a secret with him, and then both of his hands are back on me, unzipping me again, this time in so much rush, it feels like his life depends on getting me off.

"Loved the nightgown better," he murmers as if to himself while watching his hand push inside my underwear and continuing right where we left off.

"I could tell from the sketch," I breathe out with a smile, hanging onto his neck as if he's my lifeline.

And then it hits me! Shit I forgot to take the sketchbook! He probably has it already! What a dummy! But it also means that whatever we're doing right now, has nothing to do with manipulation. He's touching me, because he wants to, not because he wants to distract me.

"Oh, God!" I choke out, when two fingers enter my body again, happy I can now make all the sounds I had to kill inside me a few minutes ago.

"Fuck, you weren't kidding." He says hoarsly, touching me fast and deep and gentle and yet angrily. His other hand grabs my leg in a crazed heat, wrapping it around his waist, so he can get me closer to him. "When you said you still wanted me. You're a fucking vision."

The praise makes me move on his fingers shamelessly, moaning as silently as I can, and nearly losing my breath.

Once he feels my leg is secure around him, his hand glides over my stomach and slowly undoes the bow on the front of my blouse.

"You drive me crazy and you know it. You fucking know it." He says appreciating the outfit I have chosen just for him and then pulls my blouse halfway down to reveal my pale blue bra.

It doesn't take him long to push me off the edge, and before I know it, the release I've denied myself a few minutes ago is bursting out of my whole body.

I press my face against his neck, teeth thinking into his skin as I try to muffle my voice. I fail though, and cry out his name in the small space, surrounded by his scent.

He doesn't stop or let go of me until I'm completely boneless, and only then he pulls back a little, presses his forehead to mine again and gently places my foot back down on the floor.

"I can't believe what we've just done." I sound as if I've just run a marathon, my voice barely audible, my eyes hazy and only halfway open.

He slides his hand out of my underwear, the evidence of my release on his fingers making me blush.

My eyes widen when suddenly, he brings the same fingers to his mouth and sucks on them still holding my gaze.

Jesus Christ, he really wants me dead today. And he definitely knows what I'm thinking because his lips form the perfect smirk because of the shock on my face, and slowly he drags them out of his mouth.

I attempt to look away to hide my hot cheeks, when his other hand rests on my throat and, gliding up slowly, frames my chin in his palm to force me keep my eyes on him.

"This reminds me... What did I tell you about looking at me when you come?" He scolds me with a dark gaze, as if I'm his student.

Hovering over me like a mountain, he taps the same fingers he's just tasted me on, against my lips, in a silent command to open my mouth.

"I've never..." I start, but when he keeps looking at me with his hooded greens, like I'm his to do with as he pleases, I give up and I part my lips for him.

"Suck," he says staring into my eyes, his other hand around my body flexing, and fingers digging inside my waist.

Holding his gaze, I do as I'm told and store the memory of his satisfied, bright and rare smile in the chamber of the most beautiful moments of my life. He looks so proud of me, so masmerized, so addicted I think I can burst the second time from that gaze alone.

"Is this enough proof for you?" Connor mumbles eyes devouring my mouth, before swearing under his breath and pulling his fingers out with a pop.

His pointer finger taps the tip of my nose, as if he's praising me, and the gesture is so soft, my mouth turns up into the biggest smile I can master.

Connor stares at it frozen for a second or two, before shaking his head slightly and attempting to take a step back.

I can't let it happen though, I can't take us back to the reality where he claims he hates me, where he doesn't look at me the way he just did a second ago. I'm not ready for that yet, not after what we've just shared. Because even though I know he wants me, even though I tell him his harsh words don't faze me, I'm lying.

His hateful words hurt like poisoned arrows, I just choose to heal them with reassurance like a useless band around a deep cut.

So I wrap my arms around his neck tighter, pull him down to me again and brush my nose with his.

"Come to the Halloween party on Friday. The one the school is organizing, not the ones girls keep inviting you to." I whisper suddenly, holding his eyes.

"Why should I?" His voice and eyes are serious, as I feel him slowly crawl back to his cold castle.

"Because I want you there. Because I'm asking you to."

"Doesn't feel like asking." He narrows his eyes at me.

I press my lower body against his and smile when I feel his desire still pressing against my stomach.

Oh my, this is because of me? I still can't believe it. Should I do something about it? I should, shouldn't I? I have never done this before so I have no idea, how I can make him feel as good as he did to me.

But slowly I start moving against him as if on instinct, and realize I might be doing well when Connor curses under his breath, fingers digging into my sides and staring at my face with so much intensity I feel my legs shake again.

"What are you doing?" He asks although his hips take the lead and start moving with mine.

"Please come, Connor." I whisper the words against his mouth, never kissing it even though I'm dying to.

His minty, citrusy breath makes me want to close my eyes and explore his mouth with mine until we are both out of breath, but I can't spend our first kiss in this classroom, like we're each other's dirty little secret.

"Keep moving like that, and I will." Connor says with a mischievous smirk, letting me know he's talking about something else.

I can't help the laugh that bursts out of me, so I throw my head back against the wall and give into it fully. He's never made a joke before, not after we met again, and not many even when we were kids, so I'm completely taken back when he does.

"You know what I mean," I say as I recover after a second and when I open my eyes to look up at him, he's staring at me again as if I'm only his. 

"Connor?" I mumble when he doesn't move or react, and then, instead of answering, he dips his head to mark me with his open-mouthed, slow kisses - down my neck and throat and collarbone and the top of my breasts still covered with my bra.

"What do you want from me?" He asks suddenly, before sucking on the spot where my shoulder and neck meet.

"Everything..." I whisper just as breathlessly as him, moving faster against him.

"I told you can't give you that, I fucking hate you." His left hand slides up my arm, fingers interlocking with mine, and then pressing our hands against his chest, and all the while his mouth on my breasts doesn't stop making me moan and arch.

His fast heartbeat under our hands make me go wilder, get braver.

"It doesn't feel like you hate me when you touch me like this." I grip his fingers to let him know what I mean, and the way he stops kissing the birthmark on my breast over my transparent bra to look at me confused and disoriented lets me think he did it without even realizing it. He tries to let go of my hand, but I tighten my hold and trap him against me.

The soft and affectionate way he's been staring at me since we entered this room is instantly replaced with indifference and nothingness, and I hate how much it actually hurts me.

"You don't understand." Even his voice sounds foreign, bored and full of resentment at what we've just done, at me. "I might want to fuck you like any other girl, but I can't give you more. We can't go back to how it used to be, because there's nothing to go back to." He shoots the first arrow.

"You are wrong. We had everything." I swallow the poison, and yet I don't let him go, clutching onto him just a little longer, to remind myself he'd not be in my arms if he actually meant it.

"Fucking stop. You left, while I was the one who physically did. And you never even gave me a reason."

"You abandoned me first, Connor." I tell him softly, gently. "But I don't blame you for it the way you do, because I understand. I know life happens, I know priorities change. Yours did."

"You think my priorities changed?" He pulls back suddenly, freeing himself from my arms and glares at me so hard as if I've just offended him. "Did you even know me, Sky?" He winces when he realizes what he's just called me.

With a frustrated sigh, he runs his hand through his hair, before taking a few steps back.

"You ghosted me for years, as if you didn't know me our whole lives," he starts with a dull tone, sounding almost numb, "And you want to slide right back into my life and pretend nothing happened just because now you find me attractive enough to fuck? A lot of shit has changed, but one thing that didn't is the fact that I never forgive. I don't believe in second chances and you know it."

"There is nothing to forgive me for." I start to zip up, pull my shirt over my bra and redo the bow, to feel less exposed in front of this stranger. Because the Connor I knew a second ago is gone again, replaced by a guy I fail to remember he can be sometimes.

"But if you actually want to make excuses for yourself," he goes on ignoring me. "Be honest with me for once in your life and finally tell me what happened all those years ago. It's the only way to make me at least stop treating you like trash." He then leans into me and grabs my chin in his hand, tilting it up.

"Stop talking in riddles, and finally tell me the truth." He whispers, holding my gaze and when his greens suddenly fill with the familiar fire I've always been craving for my whole life, I find myself giving him a slow nod.

I lean into him, both hands framing his face and pulling him down to my level again. My thumb traces his lower lip, making me mesmerized because of the way it feels under my touch. So soft and yet wild.

And even though Connor's eyes glare at me, his mouth parts invitingly and probably without him even realizing it.

"Come to the Halloween party, and I might just do it." I whisper, before planting a slow kiss on his jaw, stepping around him and leaving on my unstable feet.

What in the world am I going to do if he decides to show up?

~*~*~*~

Author's Note

So this happened!!!! It's a long chapter and I won't make it even longer with my AN, just wanted to say the next chapter is coming sooner than you think and it's one of my favorites and I know, I just KNOW you are going to scream when I post it.

So, please give this one a lot of love, so I can see that you guys are still into it! I'm a fragile person, I need constant reassurance lol 😆

PS please please please just ignore my mistakes because it's not edited yet. I will professionally proofread the whole story once it's over, or as soon as I quit my jobs and have time.

PS2 stream Stray Kid's new album "Ate" because they literally ATE! It's amaziiiiiing! Just like always! See you very, veeeeeeeery soon!