Vasha was elbow-deep in an engine block when I walked in, her blue skin streaked with grease, her lekku wrapped up in a bandana to keep them out of the way. She glanced up at the sound of my footsteps and grinned.
"Momma's boy returns," she said, wiping her hands on a rag that was somehow dirtier than her hands. "Thought she'd have you on lockdown after yesterday."
"She walked me to school."
"Walked you?" Vasha snorted, leaning back against the workbench. "What are you, seven?"
"She's just worried. There was a murder."
"The tweaker?" She shrugged, tossing the rag aside. "Heard about it. Can't say I'm crying. He used to come around here trying to steal parts. Chased him off with a hydrospanner twice."
She stretched, her arms going over her head, her coveralls pulling tight across her chest. The top few buttons were undone because of the heat, and I could see the thin tank top she wore underneath, damp with sweat and clinging to curves that had no business being that distracting.
I realized I was staring and looked away.
"So," I said, clearing my throat. "Need help with anything?"
"Actually, yeah." She jerked her thumb toward the speeder she'd been working on. "Repulsor's jammed. I need someone to hold the coupling steady while I realign the motivator. Think you can handle that?"
"Probably."
"Such confidence."
I pulled out my flip phone while she gathered tools.
"She better not suspect it..." I mumbled, thumbing open the messaging app. The keys clicked as I typed out a message to Mom: School project at Jax's house. Might be late. Don't wait up.
Then another to Jax: Cover for me if mom calls. I'm at the garage.
His response came back almost instantly: U owe me. Also ur mom scares me.
Fair enough.
I snapped the phone shut and shoved it in my pocket.
"Alright," I said, walking over to the speeder. "What am I holding?"
---
Twenty minutes later, we were both wedged under the hood.
It was cramped. The speeder was some vintage model Vasha had picked up cheap, which meant the engine compartment was designed for mechanics with smaller bodies and fewer appendages. We were shoulder to shoulder, our heads ducked under the raised hood, our bodies pressed against the chassis.
"Hold that coupling," she said, pointing. "No, the other one. The blue one."
"This?"
"Yeah. Don't let it move."
I grabbed the coupling and held it steady while she worked on the motivator assembly. Her tools clinked and scraped. Sweat dripped down her neck, trailing along the curve of her throat before disappearing into her tank top.
"You're staring," she said without looking up.
"I'm watching. There's a difference."
"Uh-huh."
She shifted her weight, her hip bumping against mine. The contact sent a jolt through me that I tried very hard to ignore.
"So this coupling connects to what exactly?" I asked, mostly to distract myself.
"The repulsor motivator. It regulates thrust distribution." She pointed with her wrench. "See that conduit? Power flows through there, hits the motivator, and—"
Her elbow knocked against something.
There was a click.
Then a hiss.
"Oh no," she said.
The hydraulic jack that was holding up the hood assembly made a sound like a dying animal. I saw it start to collapse, the heavy metal hood beginning its descent toward our heads.
"Move!" Vasha shouted.
There wasn't time to get out. The space was too narrow, my body was wedged in wrong, and the hood was coming down fast.
I did the only thing I could.
I threw myself sideways, toward Vasha, toward the gap where she'd removed components for repair. My body slammed into hers, driving us both down into the narrow cavity as the hood crashed down above us.
Metal groaned. Something hit my back, a glancing blow that sent pain shooting through my spine. And then everything went dark and tight and warm.
My face was buried in something soft.
Very soft.
It took me a second to realize it was Vasha's chest.
My face was pressed directly into her cleavage, the thin fabric of her tank top the only barrier between my mouth and her skin. My hips had ended up between her legs somehow, my body pressed flush against hers in the narrow space. I could feel every curve, every breath, every slight shift of her body beneath mine.
"Alex!" Her voice was panicked, muffled by the metal shell around us. "Alex, are you okay? Did something hit you? Oh Force, oh Force, if something impaled you—"
"I'm fine," I said, though the words came out muffled by her breasts.
"Don't move! Something might have—stay still, let me check—"
Her hands ran down my back, fingers pressing and probing, searching for blood or metal or anything that shouldn't be there. Every touch sent shivers through me. I bit my lip, trying to focus on literally anything other than where my face was currently located.
"No blood," she breathed, relief flooding her voice. "No punctures. You're okay. You're okay."
"Told you."
"Shut up. You could have been killed."
Her hands stopped moving, resting on my lower back. I felt her chest rise and fall beneath my face as she caught her breath, the adrenaline slowly fading.
Then she seemed to notice our position.
"Um," she said.
"Yeah."
"This is..."
"Yep."
A long pause. I could feel her heart beating through her tank top, rapid against my cheek.
"Okay," she said, her voice shifting into problem-solving mode. "Okay. The jack failed. The hood's down. We're trapped."
"What do we do?"
"I'm thinking." She shifted slightly, which only pressed her body more firmly against mine. "Do you have your phone?"
"Side pocket."
"Can you reach it?"
I tried to move my arm. The space was too tight. My elbow hit metal.
"No."
"Okay. I'll try."
Her hand slid down my side, searching for my pocket. Her fingers brushed against my hip, then lower, probing through the thin fabric of my shorts.
"Wait," I said.
"I've almost got it—"
Her hand closed around something.
It was not my phone.
"Found it," she said, squeezing slightly. "Why is your phone so hot? And... cylindrical..."
Her hand froze.
I felt the exact moment she realized what she was holding.
"Oh," she said, very quietly.
"That's not—"
"I know what it is."
"I can't help it. You're touching—"
"I know."
She didn't move her hand. For a long, agonizing moment, neither of us moved at all. I could feel myself getting harder in her grip, which only made things worse. Her fingers twitched, almost involuntarily, and I had to bite back a groan.
"Other pocket," I managed.
"Right. Right."
Her hand released me—reluctantly? No, I was imagining that—and moved to my other side. This time she found the phone, pulling it free with trembling fingers.
"Okay," she said, her voice slightly strained. "I'll call emergency services."
She tried to bring the phone up to her face, but the space was too cramped. Her arm knocked against the underside of the hood, and the phone slipped from her fingers.
"No, no, no—"
She grabbed for it, but only succeeded in pushing it further away. I heard it skitter across the ground, coming to rest somewhere out of reach.
"Fuck," she said.
"Can we yell? Get someone's attention?"
"I soundproofed the garage." She groaned in frustration. "Neighbors kept complaining about the noise. We'd have to scream for hours before anyone outside heard us."
"So we're stuck."
"We're stuck."
I exhaled, and my breath ghosted across her chest. She shivered.
"Sorry," I said.
"It's fine. Just... try not to breathe directly on my... you know."
"Kind of hard when my face is literally in your..."
"I know."
We lay there in silence. The heat was oppressive, our bodies generating warmth in the enclosed space. Sweat trickled down my back. I could smell her—engine grease and something floral, maybe her soap, mixed with the salt of her skin.
"Are we going to die like this?" I asked.
"What? No. Don't be dramatic."
"I'm just saying, if we're trapped here without water—"
"We're not going to die. Someone will come by eventually. A customer, a delivery guy, someone. We just have to wait and make noise when we hear them."
"Oh." I felt stupid. "Right. Obviously."
"You're an idiot."
"Yeah."
More silence. More heat. More of her body pressed against mine in ways that made thinking very difficult.
The thing between my legs had not gone down. If anything, it was getting worse. Every tiny movement she made, every breath, every shift of her hips—I felt all of it. And I knew she could feel me too, pressing against her thigh through our clothes.
"Alex," she said, her voice strained.
"I know. I'm sorry. I can't—"
"I know you can't."
I felt her chest rise with a deep breath. When she exhaled, her body relaxed slightly beneath mine, her thighs shifting just enough to cradle my hips more comfortably.
It was a small adjustment. Practical. It didn't mean anything.
But it felt like everything.
Time passed. Minutes, maybe. I had no way to know. All I knew was the heat, the pressure, the sound of her breathing, the feeling of her body beneath mine.
Her nipples were hard. I could feel them through her tank top, pressing against my chest. And she had to know I could feel them, just like she could feel me.
Neither of us mentioned it.
"Alex," she said again, and her voice was different now. Lower. Breathier.
"Yeah?"
"How long have we been down here?"
"I don't know."
"It feels like forever."
"Yeah."
Her fingers moved on my back, tracing small patterns. It might have been unconscious. It might have been deliberate. I couldn't tell, and I wasn't sure it mattered.
I could feel myself losing the battle. Every breath I took filled my lungs with her scent. Every heartbeat pushed my hips forward just slightly, grinding against her. And she wasn't stopping me. She wasn't pulling away.
"Vasha," I said, and my voice came out rough. Desperate.
"Don't."
"I can't—I can't control—"
"Alex, wait. Wait wait wait—"
I kissed her chest.
It wasn't planned. It wasn't thought out. My lips just found the exposed skin above her tank top, the soft blue curve of her breast, and pressed against it.
She gasped.
I kissed her again. And again. My mouth trailed across her collarbone, up her neck, leaving a path of heat and moisture on her skin. She was making small sounds, these little whimpers that went straight to my brain and short-circuited every rational thought I had left.
"We shouldn't," she breathed. "I'm too old for you. This is—we can't—"
"I don't care."
"Alex—"
"I don't care about your age. I don't care about any of it."
I wedged myself higher, my lips finding her jaw, her cheek, the corner of her mouth. She turned her head, and then we were kissing for real, her lips parting against mine, her tongue sliding into my mouth.
She tasted like caf and something sweet.
Her nails dug into my back, hard enough to hurt, pulling me closer instead of pushing me away. Her hips rose to meet mine, grinding up against me, and I groaned into her mouth.
"This is insane," she gasped between kisses. "We're trapped under a speeder—"
"Don't care."
"Someone could come in any second—"
"Don't care."
"I'm eight years older than you—"
"Vasha." I pulled back just enough to look at her, though I could barely see anything in the dim light. "I like you. I've liked you for months. And I don't care about any of that other stuff."
She stared at me. I could feel her chest heaving against mine, her heart racing.
"Idiot..." she mumbled.
And then she kissed me again.
We lost ourselves in it. Her hands in my hair, my hands wherever I could reach, our bodies moving together in the narrow space. The heat was unbearable now, sweat slicking our skin, but neither of us wanted to stop.
Then I heard it.
Footsteps. The creak of the garage door.
"Hello? Vasha? Is the shop still open—"
We froze.
---
The fire department arrived in seven minutes.
It took them another fifteen to safely lift the hood without risking further collapse. When they finally pulled us out, blinking in the sudden light, I was painfully aware of how we must have looked.
Me, on top of her. Her tank top askew, her lips swollen, her neck marked with what I was pretty sure were going to be visible hickeys by tomorrow.
The firefighters exchanged glances. One of them smirked.
"Hydraulic failure," Vasha said quickly, straightening her clothes. "The jack gave out. We got trapped."
"Uh-huh," the lead firefighter said, his voice carefully neutral. "Well, you're out now. Might want to get that jack serviced."
"I will. Thank you."
There was a small crowd outside by the time we emerged. Neighbors, a few customers, people who'd heard the sirens. I saw familiar faces, people I recognized from the block, all staring at us with varying degrees of curiosity and amusement.
At least the fanfare wasn't big enough that mom would be here.
Thank the Force for small mercies.
Vasha walked me to the edge of her property, her arms crossed, her expression unreadable. The sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink.
"So," I said. "About what happened—"
"I need time," she cut me off. "To think. About... all of that."
"Okay."
"I'm not saying no. I'm not saying yes. I'm saying I need to think."
"Okay," I said again, because what else could I say?
She looked at me for a long moment. Then she reached out and brushed a strand of hair off my forehead, her touch gentle.
"Go home, Alex. Text me tomorrow."
"I will."
I walked home in a daze, my body still buzzing, my mind replaying every kiss, every touch, every sound she'd made.
The Star Destroyer drifted overhead, its shadow falling across the street.
Just another day in Anchorhead Heights.
__
Dinner was Mom's famous nerf roast with those little potatoes she made. I pushed food around my plate, my mind still back at the garage, replaying the feeling of Vasha's lips against mine.
"You're quiet tonight," Mom said, watching me from across the table. "Something on your mind?"
I stabbed a potato. Chewed. Swallowed.
"Can I ask you something? It's not about me," I added quickly. "It's for a friend."
"Oh?" Her lips curved into a knowing smile. "A friend. Of course."
"Yeah. He's got this... situation."
"Tell me about your friend's situation." She nodded along, her expression open and believing in that way that made it clear she didn't believe a single word.
"So there's this girl," I said. "And she's always finding excuses to be close to him. Like, really close. Pressing up against him, touching him, that kind of thing. And she seems comfortable with it. Doesn't pull away or anything."
Mom cut into her steak, the knife gliding through meat.
"Does she do this with other boys? Or just your friend?"
"Just him. As far as he knows."
"Well," she said, chewing thoughtfully. "That does sound like interest. A girl who singles out one boy for that kind of attention is usually trying to communicate something."
"So she likes him?"
"Possibly." Mom took another bite. "Or she's just cheap."
The word landed like a slap.
"What?"
"Throwing herself at a boy like that." Mom's knife scraped against the plate, cutting a bit harder than necessary. "Pressing her body against him, making herself available. That's not romance, sweetie. That's desperation. The behavior of a girl who doesn't respect herself."
"That's not—she's not like that."
"How would you know?" Her smile was still in place, but something about it looked fixed. Painted on. "This is your friend's situation, remember?"
"I mean, he says she's not like that."
"Mm." The knife bit into the steak again, sawing through with unnecessary force. "Well. Girls like that, they know what they're doing. They use their bodies to trap boys. To distract them from what matters."
"She's not trapping anyone. She's just—"
"Slutty?"
"No!"
Mom looked up at me, and for a second her expression was strange. Then it softened, melting back into the warm, maternal face I knew.
"I'm sorry, baby. I didn't mean to upset you." She reached across the table and patted my hand. "Your friend is young. You're all young. These feelings, these little attractions, they seem so important now. But there's a whole life ahead. Studies. Career. Family."
She squeezed my fingers.
"The right girl will come along eventually. Someone who respects herself. Someone who doesn't need to rub herself against boys to get attention. Your friend should focus on what matters for now."
"Yeah," I said quietly. "I'll tell him."
"Good boy."
She went back to her dinner, humming softly, and I pushed potatoes around my plate until she let me leave the table.
__
I woke in the dark to the familiar dip of the mattress.
Mom slipped under the covers behind me, her body warm against my back. But instead of the usual position, she turned me gently, pulling my head against her chest. Her nightgown was thin, and I could feel the soft give of her breasts against my face, the steady thrum of her heartbeat.
Her fingers combed through my hair as she held me there, buried in her warmth.
"My baby," she murmured into the darkness. "My sweet boy."
I was too tired to question it. Too comfortable perhaps. I breathed in her familiar lavender scent, but underneath it was something else.
Iron, like pennies or rust.
Her arms tightened around me, almost possessive, pressing my face deeper into her chest, and I let myself sink back into sleep.
...
...
Leia wasn't at school the next day.
I noticed the empty seat in homeroom, the gap where her elaborate buns should have been visible three rows up. Nobody mentioned it. Mr. Pau certainly didn't seem to care, already launching into his lecture about the "necessary sacrifices of civilization" while tapping his ruler against his palm.
Jax cornered me at lunch, as usual.
He'd gone full conspiracy board overnight, apparently. His notebook was covered in scribbled connections, names and dates and arrows pointing everywhere. He talked for twenty minutes straight about Mr. V, about Nari's parents, about how they'd had some kind of business dispute with the weird neighbor years ago and then just vanished one night. Never found. Case went cold.
After that, Nari had dropped out. Started using. Became the hollow-eyed tweaker everyone avoided.
"It's all connected," Jax insisted, jabbing his finger at the notebook. "The parents, Nari, all of it. Mr. V's been picking them off one by one."
Mira leaned over, actually interested for once. She asked questions, pointed out holes in his theory, but seemed genuinely engaged. Arno just kept his head down, studying for the economics test, muttering about supply curves.
I nodded along without really listening.
My mind kept drifting back to the garage. The feeling of Vasha's body pressed against mine, her lips parting under my kiss. The way she'd said she needed time to think.
Did that mean she was considering it? Considering us?
She'd kissed me back. That had to mean something.
I checked my phone under the desk but there weren't any messages.
The day crawled by as I wondered why...
--
The cafeteria buzzed with noise that wasn't reaching my brain. I was staring at the same page of my history textbook I'd opened twenty minutes ago, seeing nothing but blue skin and grease-stained overalls.
Screw it.
I found Jax by the vending machines, hoarding bags of spicy chips. "I need to bail," I said, keeping my voice low. "Cover for me in Pau's class? Tell him I'm in the bathroom or something."
Jax raised an eyebrow, crunching loudly. "Skipping? You? Mr. Perfect Attendance?"
"I have to take care of something."
"Something named Vasha?"
I didn't answer. That was answer enough.
Jax grinned and punched my shoulder. "Go get her, tiger. I'll tell Pau you had an existential crisis about the Trade Federation."
I was already walking away.
----
My legs wouldn't stop bouncing.
I stood outside the garage for ten minutes, maybe longer, checking my phone like an idiot and stuffing my hands in my pockets and pulling them out again. The sign said OPEN but I couldn't make my feet move. Every scenario played out in my head, each one worse than the last. She'd laugh at me. She'd tell me to get back to school. She'd pretend yesterday never happened.
Finally, I pushed through the door.
The first thing I saw was Vasha's back. She was leaning over the front grille of a cherry-red luxury speeder that probably cost more than this entire neighborhood, laughing at something. Her lekku swayed as she shook her head, and the sound of her laughter hit me like a physical thing.
Then I saw who she was laughing with.
The guy was tall, built like he actually used the gym membership he obviously paid for, wearing a tailored shirt with the sleeves rolled up to show forearms that screamed money. He was leaning against the speeder, way inside her personal space, holding a hydrospanner he clearly didn't know how to use while making some joke that had her shoulders shaking.
My stomach twisted.
I knew I was being stupid. She was a mechanic. She talked to customers. This was her job. But watching him smile at her, watching her smile back, seeing the way he kept finding excuses to hand her tools and let their fingers touch—I wanted to walk over and kick the hydrospanner into his teeth.
"...definitely not from around here," the guy was saying, his voice carrying across the garage. "You should let me take you to dinner at the Skywalker Bistro. They have actual wine, not that caf sludge."
Vasha laughed again, that low sound that had been driving me crazy since yesterday. "I don't know, I kind of like caf sludge."
"Then I'll buy you a gallon. Come on, let a guy thank you properly for saving my baby here."
I couldn't stand there anymore.
My feet moved before my brain caught up. I walked right up to them, my sneakers squeaking on the concrete floor, and cleared my throat way too loudly.
Vasha spun around. Her eyes went wide for just a fraction of a second—surprise flickering across her face before she locked it down into something neutral. She looked me up and down, taking in my school uniform, the time of day, the fact that I was standing there at all.
"Alex," she said, her voice carefully even. "What are you doing here?"
"Needed air," I said, which was technically true. "Thought I'd stop by."
The customer looked me over with obvious dismissal, his smile tightening. "Friend of yours?"
"This is Alex," Vasha said. She stepped back, putting a more professional distance between herself and the speeder. "He helps out around the shop sometimes. Alex, this is Mister..."
"Call me Han," the guy said, though he didn't look at me when he said it. He was already turning back to Vasha, leaning in again. "So about that dinner. I'm serious about the wine. None of that cheap stuff."
He checked his chrono, flashing a smile that probably worked on most women. "Seven o'clock? I can swing by after you close up, take you somewhere nice. You deserve better than grease and engine fumes."
Before Vasha could respond, a chirping sound cut through the garage. Han pulled a golden flip-phone from his pocket, checked the screen, and frowned.
"Hold that thought," he said to her, then into the phone: "Yeah? What? No, I told you to—" He covered the receiver and gave Vasha an apologetic smile. "Business emergency. But I'll be back tonight to pick up the speeder, and I'll expect an answer about dinner."
He walked toward the door, already arguing with whoever was on the other end, leaving me and Vasha standing there in the sudden quiet of the garage.
The speeder sat between us, gleaming and red and expensive.
"So," I said. "Dinner, huh?"
Vasha waved her hand dismissively, turning back to the engine bay. "Just nonsense. Guys like that think a fancy speeder and a nice shirt means every girl will fall over herself."
"But will you go? If he actually shows up tonight?"
She glanced over her shoulder, and there was that mischievous glint in her eye. The one that made my chest tight. "Maybe. Maybe not. Who knows?" She shrugged, her lekku swaying. "He's not bad looking. And that speeder is very expensive."
My jaw clenched.
She turned fully, crossing her arms and leaning against the workbench. "Speaking of questions, why are you here right now? Shouldn't you be in class learning about... I don't know, the Clone Wars or whatever they teach you?"
"I couldn't focus."
"So you decided to skip school and come bother me instead?"
"I decided to skip school because I couldn't stop thinking about yesterday."
The teasing smile flickered. She looked away, grabbing a wrench and turning it over in her hands. "Alex..."
"You said you needed time to think. Have you?"
"It's been less than a day." She started walking toward the back of the garage, putting distance between us. "And I told you, it's not appropriate. I'm older than you. You're still in school. People would talk, and—"
I caught her wrist.
She stopped. My grip was gentle, barely any pressure, but she went still like I'd frozen her in place. Slowly, she turned back to face me.
"Alex." Her voice had that warning tone, but underneath it was something else. Something breathier. "What are you doing?"
"I'm tired of you dodging the question."
"I'm not dodging anything." She tried for her usual teasing smile, but it came out wrong. Nervous. "I just think you're confused. You're young, your hormones are all over the place, and yesterday was intense. It doesn't mean—"
"Do you like me or not?"
She opened her mouth. Closed it. Her free hand came up to fidget with one of her lekku, a nervous habit I'd noticed weeks ago.
"It's complicated," she said finally. "You're a kid, and I'm—"
"I'm eighteen."
"You're in high school."
"That doesn't answer my question."
"Because the answer doesn't matter!" She pulled her wrist free, stepping back. "Even if I did—which I'm not saying I do—it would be stupid. Reckless. People would think I'm some kind of predator, and your mother would probably have me arrested, and—"
"Vasha."
"—and you have your whole life ahead of you, you should be chasing girls your own age, not some washed-up mechanic who—"
I kissed her.
One second she was rambling, the next my mouth was on hers and her back was against the wall. I didn't remember moving. Didn't remember deciding. I just couldn't listen to her talk herself out of this for one more second.
She made a small sound of surprise against my lips. Her hands came up to my chest, and for a moment I thought she was going to push me away.
She didn't.
Her fingers curled into my shirt, pulling me closer instead. The wrench clattered to the floor. I pressed into her, pinning her against the corrugated metal, and she kissed me back with a desperation that matched my own.
When we finally broke apart, we were both breathing hard.
"That," she panted, "was not an answer."
"Yeah it was."
Her eyes searched my face. Something shifted in her expression, that wall she kept trying to build crumbling just a little.
"You're going to be so much trouble," she murmured.
"Probably."
She laughed, shaky and real, and then her hand came up to cup my jaw. Her thumb traced along my cheekbone, and when she spoke again, her voice had dropped into something lower. Softer. Almost dangerous.
"You really don't know what you've started, do you?"
"I know exactly what I started."
"No." She shook her head slowly, her lekku swaying with the motion. "You don't. You came in here all jealous and demanding, pushing and pushing, and now..." She leaned in, her lips brushing my ear. "Now there's no going back. You understand that?"
A shiver ran down my spine. "I understand."
"Do you?" Her hands slid down from my chest to my waist, fingers hooking into my belt loops. "Because once we do this, you're mine. No cheerleaders. No other girls. Just me."
"Just you," I repeated, and I meant it.
She pulled back to look at me, really look at me, her dark eyes searching for hesitation. Whatever she found made her smile, slow and predatory in a way I'd never seen from her before.
"Alright then." She pushed off the wall, and suddenly I was the one being moved. She walked me backward, step by step, until my legs hit the worn couch she kept in the corner for late nights. "Sit."
I sat.
She stood over me for a moment, just looking. Then she reached up and pulled the bandana from her lekku, letting them fall free over her shoulders. Her fingers went to the buttons of her coveralls, unfastening them one by one with deliberate slowness.
"You've been staring at me for months," she said, her voice conversational even as she peeled the coveralls down her shoulders. "Did you think I didn't notice?"
"I tried to be subtle."
"You failed." She grabbed my chin, tilting my face up to look at her properly. Her eyes were dark, glinting with something predatory, but I could see the faint tremble in her lekku that betrayed her nerves. "Every time I bent over an engine, I could feel your eyes burning holes in my ass. You're not subtle at all, little boy."
The words sent heat rushing through me. "I'm not that little."
"We'll see about that." She pushed me back against the couch, climbing onto my lap with a confidence that made my head spin. Her weight settled against me, warm and solid, and her hands planted on my chest as she looked down at me like I was something she was about to devour. "First rule. I'm in charge here. You do what I say, when I say it. Understand?"
"Yes."
"Good boy." She leaned down and kissed me, hard and demanding, her teeth catching my lower lip and tugging. When I tried to deepen it, she pulled back, clicking her tongue. "Patience. We do this my way."
She grabbed my hands and placed them on her hips, squeezing my fingers around the curve of her waist. "Hold on. Don't move unless I tell you to."
Then she started grinding.
Slow at first, a lazy roll of her hips that dragged the heat of her across my lap. The friction was maddening, even through layers of fabric, and I could feel myself hardening rapidly beneath her. She noticed, her lips curving into a smirk.
"Someone's eager." She ground down harder, right against the bulge forming in my pants, and I groaned through clenched teeth. "Already? We've barely started."
"You're sitting on my—"
"I know exactly where I'm sitting." She rolled her hips again, circling, and I saw her breath catch for just a second before she schooled her expression back into that confident smirk. "What's the matter? Can't handle a little pressure?"
She was testing me. Pushing to see how much I could take. And despite her bravado, I could see the flush creeping up her neck, the way her thighs squeezed tighter around my hips with each movement.
"Take off your shirt," she commanded, already tugging at the hem of my school uniform. "I want to see what I'm working with."
I pulled it over my head and tossed it aside. Her hands immediately went to my chest, palms flat, fingers spread, exploring the planes of muscle with an intensity that felt like she was memorizing me. Her touch was rougher than I expected, nails scraping lightly, leaving faint lines on my skin.
"Not bad," she said, pinching my side hard enough to make me yelp. "Could use more definition, but you're young. You'll fill out."
"Thanks for the review."
She laughed, low and throaty, and leaned down to bite my shoulder. Not gently. I hissed, my hands tightening on her hips instinctively, and she made an approving sound against my skin.
"There we go. Stop holding back." She sat up and grabbed my hands, moving them higher until my palms cupped her breasts through her tank top. "Touch me. Properly."
I squeezed, feeling the soft weight of her fill my hands, and she arched into the contact with a sharp inhale. Her nipples were already hard beneath the thin fabric, poking against my palms, and when I rolled them between my fingers she shuddered visibly.
"Harder," she demanded, her voice cracking slightly on the word. "I'm not made of glass."
I pinched, twisting slightly, and she moaned outright, her hips stuttering in their rhythm. Her hands came up to grab my wrists, not pulling me away but holding me there, keeping my hands on her breasts as she ground against me with increasing desperation.
"Your mouth," she panted, pulling my head forward. "Use your mouth."
I yanked her tank top down impatiently, not bothering to take it off properly, just exposing her breasts to the cool garage air. She gasped at the roughness, her eyes widening, but before she could say anything I had my mouth on her.
I sucked hard, no preamble, no gentle exploration, and she cried out loud enough to echo off the walls. Her fingers tangled in my hair, gripping tight enough to hurt, holding me against her chest as I lavished attention on first one breast, then the other. I used my teeth the way she'd told me to earlier, grazing the sensitive peaks, and she rewarded me with sounds that went straight to my cock.
"Fuck, your mouth is hot," she gasped, grinding down against me frantically now. "Right there, don't stop, just like—ah!"
I bit down harder than I meant to, caught up in the moment, and she yelped, yanking my head back by my hair. For a second I thought I'd hurt her, but her eyes were glazed with pleasure, not pain, and her chest was heaving.
"Warn a girl," she managed, but she was smiling, a wild edge to it that made my blood sing. "Eager little thing, aren't you?"
"You told me not to hold back."
"So I did." She released my hair and reached down between us, palming my erection through my pants with a grip that made me see stars. "Let's see what you're hiding in here."
Her fingers worked at my belt with practiced efficiency, but I noticed her hands were shaking now. The tremor was slight, barely visible, but it was there, and it made something in my chest clench. She was nervous. Under all that confidence, all that bravado, she was just as overwhelmed as I was.
The belt came free. She popped the button, dragged down the zipper, and then paused, her hand hovering over the waistband of my underwear.
"Last chance to back out," she said, her voice softer now. "Once we do this, there's no going back. You understand?"
"I understand."
"And you still want to?"
"More than anything."
She nodded once, took a breath, and pulled my pants and underwear down together.
My cock sprang free, slapping against my stomach, and she went completely still.
"Oh," she breathed, staring at it with wide eyes. "Oh wow."
She just looked for a long moment, her head tilting slightly like she was examining an alien artifact. Which, I supposed, she kind of was. Her lekku twitched behind her, curling and uncurling in what I was starting to recognize as a nervous habit.
"It's..." She reached out, then hesitated, her finger hovering an inch from the tip. "It looks different in real life. The videos don't capture the... veins. It's like a scary purple monster."
"That's not exactly flattering."
"Shut up, I'm processing." She touched the tip with one finger, feather-light, and I twitched involuntarily. She yanked her hand back like she'd been burned. "It moved!"
"Yeah, that happens."
"I know it happens, I just—" She cut herself off, taking another breath, then wrapped her hand around the shaft with sudden determination. "Okay. Okay, I can do this."
Her grip was uncertain at first, too loose, then too tight when I hissed. She adjusted, finding a pressure that made my eyes roll back, and started to explore. She pulled back the foreskin, watching with fascinated intensity as the head was exposed, then let it slide back into place.
"The skin moves so much," she murmured, doing it again. "And it's so warm. I expected it to feel colder, I don't know why."
"Vasha—"
"And this vein here." She traced it with her thumbnail, from base to tip, and I had to grab the couch cushions to keep from bucking. "Does it hurt if I press on it?"
"No, it feels—fuck—it feels really good."
"What about here?" She ran her finger along the ridge where the head met the shaft, circling the sensitive underside, and I groaned loud enough to make her jump.
"Right there," I managed. "That's really sensitive."
"Noted." She kept stroking, watching my reactions with clinical interest, learning what made me twitch and gasp. When she discovered that rubbing her thumb over the slit made pre-come bead at the tip, she actually grinned. "Look at that. It's like a little fountain."
"Can you please stop narrating?"
"No. This is educational." She leaned closer, her breath washing over me, and I felt my whole body tense in anticipation. "I want to taste it."
She licked the tip before I could respond, a quick dart of her tongue that had me choking on air. She pulled back, considering, then licked again, slower this time, gathering the moisture there.
"Salty," she announced, smacking her lips thoughtfully. "Metallic undertone. Not unpleasant."
Then she took me into her mouth.
The wet heat engulfed me and my hips jerked upward involuntarily, pushing deeper than she was ready for. She gagged immediately, pulling off with a cough, her eyes watering.
"Easy!" She slapped my thigh, hard. "Warn me before you do that!"
"Sorry, sorry, I couldn't help it—"
"Control yourself." She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, glaring at me, but there was no real anger in it. "Let me set the pace."
She tried again, more carefully this time, one hand wrapped around the base to control how deep she took me. Her tongue pressed against the underside as she bobbed her head, wet and hot and perfect, and I had to dig my nails into my palms to keep from thrusting.
She couldn't take much. Every time she tried to go deeper, she gagged and had to pull back, her eyes watering with frustration.
"They make it look so easy," she muttered between attempts, stroking me with her hand while she caught her breath. "Just slide it right down like it's nothing. But it's so big and my throat doesn't cooperate."
"You don't have to deep throat—"
"I want to." She set her jaw stubbornly and dove back in, managing maybe an inch more before she choked again. "Fuck!"
"Here." I gathered her lekku in my hands, stroking them gently, and she shivered. "Just focus on the tip. Use your hand for the rest."
She followed my guidance, her mouth working the head while her fist pumped the shaft, and the combination had me spiraling fast. Every time I stroked her lekku she moaned around me, the vibration adding another layer of sensation that had me seeing spots.
"Vasha, I'm close—"
She didn't pull back. Her hand moved faster, her suction increased, and I tried to warn her again but the words got lost somewhere between my brain and my mouth. I came with a groan that echoed off the garage walls, spilling into her mouth in hot pulses that I couldn't have stopped if I'd tried.
She made a surprised sound, her eyes going wide, and I felt some of it escape past her lips, dripping down my shaft. She swallowed reflexively, then pulled off, coughing and wiping her mouth.
"You couldn't have given me more warning?" She punched my thigh again, but she was laughing, wiping her chin with the back of her hand. "That was a lot. The texture is so weird. It's like... warm pudding but runnier."
"Sorry."
"Don't apologize." She crawled up my body, settling against my chest, and kissed me deeply, not caring that I could taste myself on her tongue. "I wanted to know what it was like. Now I know."
We lay there for a moment, catching our breath, my hands stroking up and down her back. Her skin was impossibly soft under my palms, and I could feel her heartbeat gradually slowing against my chest.
Then I flipped her.
She yelped in surprise as her back hit the couch cushions, her eyes going wide as I loomed over her. "What are you—"
"Your turn."
The confident facade cracked. She actually looked scared for a second, her lekku curling protectively around her shoulders, before she schooled her expression into something calmer.
"You don't have to—"
"I want to." I kissed her jaw, her neck, the hollow of her throat. "You did that for me. I want to return the favor."
"But I've never..." She trailed off, swallowing hard. "No one's ever looked at me there. Let alone... touched. It feels really vulnerable."
"I'll go slow."
She stared at me for a long moment, her chest heaving with nervous breaths. Then she nodded once, jerkily, and closed her eyes.
"Okay," she whispered. "Okay. Just... be gentle. At first."
I started at her feet.
She jerked in surprise when my lips pressed against her ankle, her eyes flying open. "What are you—"
"Relax." I massaged the arch of her foot, then kissed my way up her calf, taking my time. "Think of it as a massage."
"Some massage," she muttered, but I felt the tension starting to drain from her muscles.
I worked my way up slowly, kissing and licking every inch of skin I uncovered. Her calves, the backs of her knees, the soft insides of her thighs. By the time I reached the hem of her coveralls, she was breathing hard, her hands fisting in the couch cushions.
"You're good at this," she managed, her voice trembling. "You sure you haven't done this before?"
"Never." I pushed the coveralls down her hips, helped her kick them off. "You're my first. It just... feels natural with you."
She was left in just her panties, dark fabric stretched over her mound, and I could see the wet spot forming at the center. The sight made my mouth water. I hooked my fingers in the waistband, but she grabbed my wrist.
"Wait." She was breathing hard, her face flushed dark blue. "I'm not... I mean, I don't know if I look normal. I've never compared to anyone."
"You're beautiful."
"You haven't seen it yet."
"I don't need to." I kissed her hip bone, her stomach, the sensitive skin just above her waistband. "But I want to. Can I?"
She held my gaze for a long moment, vulnerability and desire warring in her eyes. Then she released my wrist and let her hands fall to her sides.
"Okay," she whispered. "Okay."
I pulled her panties down slowly, revealing her inch by inch. A patch of darker blue curls, trimmed short. The flushed, glistening folds beneath. She was wet, slick with arousal, and as the cool air hit her she shuddered and instinctively tried to close her legs.
I caught her knees before they could come together, holding them apart. "Don't hide."
"I'm not hiding, I'm just—" She made a frustrated sound, covering her face with her hands. "This is embarrassing. You're staring at it."
"Because it's pretty."
"Pretty?" She peeked through her fingers. "You're insane."
"Probably." I lowered my head and breathed against her, just a warm exhale over her center, and she jerked like she'd been electrocuted. "Still want me to stop?"
"No. Yes. I don't know." Her hands left her face and tangled in my hair, not pushing me away but not pulling me closer either. "Just... do something. The anticipation is killing me."
I pressed a kiss to her inner thigh, first one side, then the other. She whimpered, her hips shifting restlessly. Another kiss, higher up, right at the crease where her thigh met her pelvis. She was trembling now, fine shivers running through her entire body.
"Alex," she pleaded. "Please."
I licked her.
One long, slow stroke from bottom to top, parting her folds with my tongue and tasting her properly for the first time. She cried out, loud and shocked, her thighs clamping around my head instinctively. I had to grab her hips to hold her still, my fingers digging into the soft flesh as I licked again.
"Oh fuck," she gasped, her back arching off the couch. "That's your tongue. That's actually your tongue touching me there."
She tasted sweet and musky, salt and something distinctly her, and I found myself pressing deeper, trying to get more. My tongue explored her folds, dipping into her entrance, circling the places that made her cry out loudest.
"There," she gasped when I found the small nub at the top, swollen and sensitive. "Right there, that's—oh Force, that's—"
I focused on it, licking in quick circles, and her whole body convulsed. Her hands yanked at my hair hard enough to hurt, but I didn't care, too focused on the sounds she was making, the way her thighs trembled against my ears.
"Your mouth is so hot," she moaned, her hips rolling against my face despite my grip. "I didn't know it would feel like this. I thought I knew, I've read things, but this is—this is—"
I sucked the sensitive nub between my lips and she screamed. Actually screamed, loud enough that I worried briefly about neighbors before remembering she'd soundproofed the place. Her thighs clamped around my head so tight I couldn't hear anything except my own heartbeat and her muffled cries.
I slid one finger inside her while I sucked, and she was so wet it went in easily, her walls clenching around me immediately. She was tight, impossibly tight, and hot, and when I curled my finger to find that spot inside her she made a sound like she was dying.
"Another," she demanded, her voice wrecked. "More. I want more."
I added a second finger, stretching her, and felt the resistance for the first time. She winced, her rhythm faltering, but when I tried to slow down she grabbed my hair and pushed my face harder against her.
"Don't stop. Don't you dare stop. It hurts a little but it's good hurt, it's—right there, right there—"
I pumped my fingers faster, curling them with each stroke, my tongue still working her clit. She was babbling now, incoherent, her lekku thrashing against the cushions, her whole body building toward something she couldn't name.
"Alex, something's happening. Something's—I feel like I'm going to—I can't—it's too much—"
I sucked harder, my fingers moving faster, and she shattered.
The orgasm hit her like a speeder crash. Her back arched so high only her shoulders touched the couch, her mouth open in a silent scream, her internal walls clamping down on my fingers in rhythmic pulses. I felt her gush against my chin, wet and hot, and I kept licking her through it, kept fingering her, drawing out every last tremor until she collapsed back against the cushions, gasping for air.
I crawled up her body, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, and she grabbed my face and kissed me desperately, tasting herself on my lips and tongue. We made out messily, all teeth and tongue, her body still twitching with aftershocks beneath me.
"That," she panted when we finally broke apart, "was the best thing that has ever happened to me."
"Yeah?"
"Don't look so smug about it." She smacked my chest weakly, but she was smiling, her whole face soft in a way I'd never seen before. "You really never did that before?"
"Never. It felt natural."
"Natural." She laughed breathlessly, shaking her head. "You're something else, Alex."
She didn't give me time to recover.
One second I was hovering over her, smug and satisfied, and the next she'd hooked her leg around my hip and flipped us. My back hit the couch cushions hard enough to knock the wind out of me, and then she was on top, straddling my waist, looking down at me with a predatory gleam in her eyes.
"My turn to drive," she said, her voice still rough from screaming. "You had your fun. Now lie back and let noona take care of you."
She slithered down my body, her breasts dragging across my chest, my stomach, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. Her lekku trailed behind her like twin serpents, brushing against my skin with every movement. When she reached my hips, she paused, looking down at my cock where it lay against my stomach, already hardening again from watching her come apart.
"Look at that," she murmured, wrapping her hand around it and giving it a few slow strokes. "Already ready for more. Youth is wasted on the young."
"You're only twenty-six."
"Ancient compared to you." She positioned herself over me, her knees planted on either side of my hips, and I felt the wet heat of her brush against my tip. We both shuddered. "Now hold still. I'm going to—"
She tried to sink down, but the angle was wrong. Instead of sliding in, I slipped backward, the head of my cock dragging through her folds and pressing against something that was definitely not the right entrance.
She yelped and jerked forward. "Wrong door!"
"Sorry! I'm not doing anything, you're the one—"
"I know, I know, just—" She reached down between us, her face flushed dark blue with embarrassment, and grabbed my shaft to guide it properly. "Hold on, let me just—there. Okay. That's the right spot."
She pressed down again, and this time I felt her entrance give way around the tip. We both froze, breathing hard, as she stretched to accommodate just the first inch.
"Oh," she breathed, her eyes going wide. "Oh, that's... that's bigger than my fingers."
"Are you okay?"
"Fine. Just—give me a second." She was trembling, her thighs shaking on either side of my hips. Her hands planted on my chest for balance, nails digging into my skin. "It's been building up to this for so long and now it's actually happening and I don't know if I'm ready but I want it anyway and—"
"Vasha. Breathe."
She took a shaky breath, then another. Slowly, incrementally, she sank lower.
I watched her face as she took me in, watched the expressions flicker across her features. Discomfort. Concentration. A flash of pain that made her wince and pause. Then determination as she pushed through it, taking another inch, then another.
"Fuck," she hissed through clenched teeth. "You're really stretching me. I feel so full already and you're not even—"
She sank down the rest of the way in one motion, and we both cried out.
I was buried inside her to the hilt, surrounded by tight, wet heat that gripped me like a fist. She sat there, frozen, her mouth open in a silent O, her whole body trembling around me.
"Are you—"
"Don't move." Her voice was strained. "Just—don't move yet. I need to adjust."
I held perfectly still, my hands gripping her hips, fighting every instinct that screamed at me to thrust. She was so tight it almost hurt, her walls clenching rhythmically around me as her body tried to accommodate the intrusion.
Then I felt something warm and wet trickle down my shaft.
I looked down and saw it. Blood. A thin stream of red sliding down where we were joined, staining my skin, dripping onto the couch cushion beneath us.
"Vasha—"
"I know." Her voice was thick. "I felt it. It's fine. It's supposed to happen the first time, right? Just means it's real."
She lifted her hips experimentally, rising up maybe an inch before sinking back down. We both groaned at the sensation, the slide of flesh on flesh, the way her walls gripped me on the upstroke like they didn't want to let go.
"Oh," she breathed, doing it again. "Oh, that's... that's really good."
She started to move properly, finding a rhythm, her hips rolling as she rode me. Her hands stayed planted on my chest, using me for leverage, her breasts swaying with each movement. The blood mixed with her arousal, making everything slick and hot, and the sounds we made together were obscene.
"Touch my lekku," she demanded, her voice ragged. "Like before. I need—"
I reached up and wrapped my hands around both of them, stroking from base to tip in time with her movements. She moaned loudly, her rhythm stuttering, her walls clenching tighter around me.
"Yes," she gasped, riding me harder. "Just like that. You learn so fast, little boy."
"Stop calling me that."
"Make me."
I squeezed her lekku harder than I meant to, and she threw her head back and screamed, her hips slamming down against mine. The force of it drove me deeper than I thought possible, hitting something inside her that made her whole body convulse.
"There," she moaned, grinding down, trying to hit that spot again. "Right there, right there, don't stop—"
I thrust up to meet her, and she cried out again, her nails raking down my chest hard enough to leave marks. We found a new rhythm together, rougher, more desperate, her body bouncing on top of mine while I fucked up into her.
Her lekku wrapped around my wrists, holding my hands in place, and I felt them pulsing with her heartbeat, hot and alive against my skin. Every stroke of my fingers made her clench tighter, made her voice pitch higher, until she was practically sobbing with pleasure.
"Alex," she gasped, her rhythm starting to falter. "Alex, I'm getting tired. My legs are—I can't keep—"
I didn't let her finish. I grabbed her hips and flipped us again, rolling her onto her back and settling between her thighs without ever pulling out. She yelped at the sudden movement, then moaned as the new angle let me sink even deeper.
"Better?" I asked, already starting to thrust.
"Much." She wrapped her legs around my waist, her ankles locking behind my back. "Now show me what you've got."
I kissed her as I fucked her, swallowing her moans, tasting myself still lingering on her tongue. Her arms came up around my neck, pulling me closer, until there was no space between us, just skin on skin and heat and friction.
"Harder," she demanded against my mouth. "You can go harder than that. I won't break."
I snapped my hips forward with more force, and she bit my lip hard enough to draw blood. The copper taste mixed with her sweetness, and something primal surged through me, something that wanted to claim her, mark her, make her mine.
I grabbed her lekku again, using them for leverage as I pounded into her, and she screamed against my mouth, her nails digging into my shoulders, her heels drumming against my back.
"Yes, yes, yes," she chanted, each word punctuated by a thrust. "Don't stop, don't you dare stop, I'm so close—"
Something in me snapped. I grabbed her thighs and pushed them back, folding her nearly in half, and she gasped at the new angle, her eyes going wide.
"What are you—oh fuck!"
I drove into her as deep as I could go, and she screamed, her whole body convulsing around me. In this position I could feel everything, every flutter and clench, every tremor that ran through her walls. I was hitting that spot inside her with every thrust, and she was falling apart beneath me, tears streaming down her face.
"Too deep," she sobbed, but her legs wrapped tighter around me, pulling me closer. "It's too deep, I can't—I'm going to—"
"Come for me." I didn't recognize my own voice, low and commanding. "Let me feel it."
She shattered.
Her orgasm hit her like a wave, her whole body seizing up, her walls clamping down on me so hard I saw stars. She screamed my name, her lekku thrashing wildly, her nails drawing blood from my shoulders. I fucked her through it, chasing my own release, and when I felt my balls tighten I barely managed to gasp out a warning.
"Vasha, I'm going to—"
"Inside." She grabbed my face with both hands, forcing me to look at her. Her eyes were wild, glazed with pleasure, but focused. "Do it inside. I want to feel it."
I came so hard my vision went white. I buried myself as deep as I could go and pulsed inside her, filling her with hot spurts while she moaned and clenched around me, milking every last drop. We stayed like that for what felt like hours, my body jerking with aftershocks, her walls fluttering, both of us gasping for air.
Finally, I collapsed on top of her, completely spent.
"Holy shit," she breathed, her arms coming up to wrap around my back. "Holy shit."
"Yeah."
"Is it always like that?"
"I have no idea. That was my first time too."
She laughed weakly, her chest shaking beneath me. "We're both idiots."
I shifted slightly, pulling out of her with a wet sound that made us both wince. When I looked down, I could see the mess we'd made—blood and arousal and my release all mingled together, leaking out of her onto the ruined couch cushion.
"Your couch," I said dumbly.
"Fuck the couch." She pulled me back down, tucking my head against her chest. Her heartbeat was still racing, but starting to slow. "I've wanted to do that for months. I'm not going to mourn some ugly cushions."
I pressed a kiss to her collarbone, tasting salt and satisfaction. "Months?"
"Since the hydrospanners." She stroked my hair lazily. "You were so nervous and so earnest and I thought, 'I'm going to ruin this boy someday.' And now look at us."
"I think I ruined you."
"Mutual destruction." She kissed the top of my head. "The best kind."