fic: Trial and Error

[bonnefois]

Title: Trial and Error
Series: TF2
Pairing: Scout/Miss Pauling,
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 7611
Summary: If at first you don't succeed, then fail better next time. After a disastrous first time, Scout gets dragged to the adult store and back to bed for another try.
Author's note: kink_bingo: wildcard (sex toys). Established relationship. Cock rings actually date back to Ancient China, while vibrators harken back to the 1800s. Anyways, I maintain that vibrators are easily canon given Engie. You cannot convince me that he doesn't have a stash of super vibrators hidden away somewhere.

The rest is just my desperate need for sex shop shenanigans fluff + smut.

Happy late birthday to Maz! I intended to have it finished sooner, but it kept wanting to be longer.



Miss Pauling was reapplying her lipstick, her skirt on the floor, the buttons on her shirt all undone, and all Scout could do was just gape at her. She was so fricking tiny, light and yet strong. It wasn't that he was surprised she was in his room, half naked and about to do him—he was a catch, an extremely handsome kind of guy. But honestly, when she came into the room, he just could not focus on a damn thing. Mission, what mission? He was on a mission from his pants to get with that, and that overrode any robots or BLU or zombies or whatever was attacking today.

It was taking everything in him not to just say everything he was thinking in this endless stream of words, but then she might stop and oh God, if she stopped, he would die. Okay, he had died fifteen times today—it'd been a bad day, today, all right?–but he would just combust from blue balls and getting so very damn close to her and not going all the way.

He couldn't believe it was actually happening. After years of chasing after her, and months of barely getting a glance at her in between work, he was finally here. Her shirt lay crumpled on the floor, the straps of her bra down her shoulders. His pants were coming off, and oh man, she was dipping in. Get this—he was actually allowed to touch her. Just one swipe of her tongue and he already felt like he could scream and moan.

She ran her hands over him as she sucked, light and twisting. Her tongue was soft and warm against his cock, like nothing he'd ever felt before. He leaned back, gasping for air, even though she'd just began to touch him. It was like all the lust of all these years built into him, until there was no control, just release. She pulled back for a breath, and white come spurted all over her glasses, dripping down her face. She grabbed tissues—always had them on stock, for obvious reasons—and started to wipe off her glasses.

Shitshitshit, this was not supposed to be happening. His first time was supposed to be amazing and he was supposed to suave and wow whatever girl he was with. Not this. At this rate, he'd get the nickname Minuteman when she yelled to the heavens what a horrible lay he was.

Actually, it'd been more like secondman, which even made it worse. This was one place where being fast was not a good thing.

"Ey, you're a little too good, babe. Hold back some of that awful and, uh, it's just a warm up. Now, let's get down to business. But, uh, some wine first, huh—wine is romantic and crap, yeah–"

He stumbled out of bed, slamming his toe into the nightstand, and dislodging several of the things there. He tried to right himself, only to hear a crunch, and a shot of pain.

"Oh, shit, geez—!"

As the full extent of the pain hit him, he let out a stream of swear words mixed with a scream. She felt over the nightstand and sighed. "Those were my glasses, weren't they? I just broke my spare last week."

He tried to speak, but had to bite his lip to not let out another unmanly shriek. He lifted up the twisted frames. She was already feeling along the side of the bed.

"D—on't step down, you'll get glass in your feet," he said.

She slipped on her heels without bothering with her pantyhose. He'd never seen anything more disappointing than seeing a her get dressed and leave his bed—especially when it'd taken just so damn much to get her there.

*

Medic clucked his tongue as he looked over Scout's foot.

"Well, you've gotten them pretty deep. Ja, this will take some time to work. If I use the medigun on you now, it will just lock the glass inside you, and I'd have to cut it out...."

"Ugh, doc, it hurts like hell. Can't you give me painkillers or somethin'?"

Medic pushed up his glasses and regarded him with an annoyed expression. "Frankly, it'd be easier if I just killed you," Medic said.

He took a look over at Miss Pauling. She had a coat wrapped tight about her, and was hugging herself, a sour expression on her face. She was supposed to be looking at him like he was the handsomest guy she ever met, she was supposed to be looking full of wonder and love, not like she got cut off in traffic and had to clean up a messy Respawn error.

At this rate, Scout had a feeling he wouldn't get her back there, and she'd never even give him the time of day again.

"You know what, Doc? Go for it. This day couldn't get any worse, anyhow. Just make sure I don't remember a thing about tonight, and I'll be sendin' you a thank you card for the favor," he said.

Medic pulled out his bonesaw, poised at Scout's throat. "I promise it won't hurt...much—"

"You're not authorized to make a kill," Miss Pauling said, speaking over him.

Medic looked from one to the other, before giving him a shrug and lowering the bonesaw. "She has seniority."

She opened the fridge. Medic's shoulders stiffened as he looked back to her in a startled panic.

"I didn't see anything here, and neither did you," she said.

Medic relaxed noticeably. "Of course, Miss Pauling."

He returned to pulling out each little piece of glass. Who knew a pair of glasses could have that much glass, anyways? It was agonizingly slow, and some of them were in there real deep. But she stayed the whole while. He couldn't tell if that was a bad thing or not.

*

After what seemed like hours, Scout limped out. Above the lights, Archimedes fluffed up his wings.

"Yes, we're going to bed again," Medic said up to him.

Archimedes cooed.

"No, you can't have a treat....all right, all right, maybe just one."

The door closed to the flapping of wings.

Scout rubbed at his neck as he limped on. In his fantasies, he'd wooed her with his amazing skills at sex and his manliness. Somehow those fantasies hadn't translated to real life. After waiting years and years of his life to get with a girl, to strike out before the game had barely started was more than a little disheartening.

He didn't give up, even when it looked bad. Being raised as a project rat and a Red Sox fan pretty much kept him running towards the impossible on a daily basis. The fact that he'd beat it, gotten out and come out richer than all those rich fucks who looked down on him proved that it could, and did happen.

But this was Cubs fan hope territory, and he wasn't sure he had that kind of belief left in him.

Miss Pauling motioned him on. "Follow me," she said.

He still couldn't tell if she was angry at him. Unlike his ma who'd yell it out and then bake enough cookies to feed a frigging army, Miss Pauling grew quiet when she was mad. Sure, she was quiet other times as well, but ... Oh man, he was so boned, wasn't he? She probably made Doc keep him alive so she could be the one to push him out a window.

The side room she led him into was pretty empty, save for a single chair and potted plant, which he was thinking was fake from the looks of it. He was about to ask what the hell was up, when she sat down and hiked up her skirt.

"On your knees." He obeyed the command instantly, so fast that his knees actually hurt a bit from the rough fall. Was this another chance? Score one for him! Oh, it was on. He might've striked out once, but he still had at least two tries before he was out. And this time he'd get it right for sure. She rested her legs on his shoulders. She hadn't bothered to put her panties on in the rush, and he could just catch a scent of her. Perfume and the musky new scent of her he was learning.

She guided his fingers into her until he could feel the soft wetness of her around him. It was a surprise just how soft and good she felt inside. He slowly pushed in two fingers all the way to his knuckle, and began to explore just what it felt like inside a girl. He'd wondered for so many years, the old stories of guys coming out and triumphantly daring anyone to smell their fingers for the musk of a girl.

It took him a second to realize that if she was letting him put his fingers up her, he got to touch her elsewhere, too. He licked up her thigh slowly as he thrust his fingers into her. She reached down to pull on his wrist and guided his fingers, until her breath came in a hitch. Her lips were just slightly parted as he kept thrusting where she guided, and her face was deeply flushed, wisps of hair undone from her bun and framing her face. He licked his lips, his gaze kept on her, memorizing that detail, and then the next as she drew in a breath.

She let out a louder moan this time, and rocked her hips until she was pushing his fingers in just where she wanted, utterly taking over the control. He pushed harder into her, more confident than ever that he was getting it right this time.

"Ah, yes...like that, mmmmn."

She held his hand where she wanted, pushing his palm up against her as he angled upwards to her command. She grew softer, wetter as he thrust his fingers in deeper. Her hand was on his, holding him steady. It was strangely intimate, enough to make him hard all over again at the sound of her cute little gasps that she was making because of him.

She was tight about him, and the mere thought of how it'd feel to have her gasping and tight about his cock was enough to make him moan against her skin. He wanted to do everything at once—bury against her and kiss her and watch every single hitched breath and shudder. But instead he chose to crane his neck and watch her as the throbbing inside her intensified, as she rode his fingers hard enough to cause his arm to ache. That had to be a girl orgasm, right? She looked even prettier than he expected all mussed up and slick, his hand stuck past her panties.

He ignored the ache, and watched her last shiver, her lips parted as she said his name.

"Oh," she said, trying to put her hair back into her bun, and mostly failing.

I always did come quickly," Miss Pauling said. Her face was flushed from sex as she dabbed at her cheeks, like she was trying to rub out the red.

"Me too," Scout said.

"Well, it makes quickies easier, I suppose," she said.

She got out of the chair and knelt down before him. She rubbed at the bulge in his pants, her nailpolish catching his eye in the movement as she began to undo his pants. She began to move her palm up and down his cock in a slow, firm motion. This time, she measured the girth of the base of his cock with her fingers.

"Uh, babe?"

"We're going shopping tomorrow. Clear your schedule."

"'course, I'd clear my schedule for you any day," he said.

She didn't let go of his cock, and instead closed her lips around the tip. It was pure warmth, her tongue was amazing working him. He couldn't think of anything but her, the sheer heat of her lips, the way she'd moaned when he'd fucked her with his fingers, the soft hum that left him utterly speechless. After the gorgeous show of getting her to come, he was already so close. Release came fast and intense, orgasm filling him as his muscles relaxed and all he could do was lean back in the chair and think that he somehow managed to live twenty three years without this, without her.

"Eheh—"

She'd smudged lipstick over his cock, leaving a print where her lips had been. She wiped white come from the side of her mouth. He couldn't tell if this was a strike or not, but he was getting somewhere.

"Well, I won't have to worry about my jaw hurting, or being kept up too late so I'll be tired at work," she said brightly.

He'd technically lasted longer this time, by three whole seconds. Those seconds mattered a whole lot in races, but not so much in sex. She started to dust herself off and push herself up from the floor.

"You're not gonna stay and sleep?" he said. Not that there was anything to sleep on around here. "I could make room for you, if you know what I mean."

"I don't really have time, I'm afraid."

"More work?"

"No, actual sleeping," she said.

"Because you'd be tempted to have your wicked way with me over and over?" Scout said.

"Because you snore, kick and steal covers," she said.

"Wha? How you know that?"

"Because I work surveillance," she said.

"Ohoho, you been spyin' on me all this time! That's awesome! I knew you were secretly checkin' this out!"

"You have a habit of sleeping in public areas," she said.

"Still means you're lookin' at me," he said, with a big grin.

"You're pretty hard to miss," she said.

He took that to mean he was perfect and incredible and unforgettable. As always.

*

Scout paced in front of the door, occasionally pulling out his baseball to throw it up and catch it. He'd lost track of how long he'd been waiting, but it felt more like five years. Then again, he was pretty sure that five minutes would feel like five years if she was on the other side of the door, just out of reach.

She'd said shopping, but he was pretty sure they didn't need any guns. Still, he'd go to the edge of the earth if she wanted it. She came out of the door–finally–and he searched for any trace of annoyance.

His game had been off all day. He'd been clipped by gunfire and dropped the intel, leading for a bad loss for his team. Then he'd completely tripped and fell, getting trampled so that the team lost again at pushing the cart while he was still in Respawn. He was pretty sure the rest of the guys were sick of him, and frankly, probably so was Miss P.

Fact was, he talked big, but if a guy didn't walk the walk, then what good was running his mouth? He'd always brought it to the plate, knocked it out of the park, but last night had been the assfall of the century.

"You seemed distracted today," she said.

"Oh, Lady Luck just ain't lookin' my way today. It's been like that since someone stole my lucky gym socks," Scout said.

"They threw it out when Medic decided to pretend to be Sherlock Holmes to solve the case of why the locker room smelled disgusting," Miss Pauling said.

"If you wash them, the luck runs out!" Scout protested.

"If I buy you new socks, will you consider taking those instead?"

"Sure!" Scout said.

"Will you wash them?" Miss Pauling said.

"Technically, the laundry lady is goin' to be the one to wash them," Scout said.

"Fine, I'll spray them with my perfume after every wash? Will that restore the luck?" Miss Pauling said.

Now she was talking his language.

"Sounds good to me," Scout said.

Not that they'd ever make it to his feet, anyways.

She slipped into another door of Mann co. and motioned him through the door. Printed in big white letters above the door was Adults only. There was a chalked drawing of a fairly accurate representation of Saxton Hale winking and pointing in towards whatever was beyond the door on the wall next to it. Scout couldn't figure out if it was advertizing or graffiti.

"Adult section? So, what, the other side is the kid's section? What, you mean I was at the kid's table all along!?"

"No. Mr. Hale has, er, expanded," she said.

She lead him past a bunch of tacky beaded door things. He was kinda surprised to see old man Hale picking up something so hippyish in one of his stores. You'd think the guy would rather have bearskin flaps as his doors, or something.

The place was a lot bigger when he got in than it looked. There were aisle after aisle of merchandise to the point where it sort of looked like a giant maze. Once he got over the size, Scout started seeing the actual merchandise, and when it sunk in just what he was looking at, he could only gape. Holy Batman, giant rubber dicks! There was a huge cut-out of Saxton Hale in a thong. His ass was surprisingly hairy. Scout didn't know laugh, run away screaming, or some combination of the two.

"Old man Hale runs a porno shop?" Scout said. He craned his neck around as he tried to take in more. Holy shit.

"It's been quite profitable, he's jumped up to the third richest man in the world with the newest line of Medic calendars."

"Wait, there were beefcake calendar shootings and I wasn't invited? What the hell is that crap?" Scout said. Scout thrust his thumb to his chest. "The world is missin' out!"

Miss Pauling cleared her throat. "I may have misplaced the form."

"Well, why don't you resubmit it? I bet he'd become the richest man in the world with puttin' me on a calendar! Friggin' guaranteed."

"Intentionally misplaced the form," she said pointedly, enough so that even he got the message.

"Aww, you don't wanna share me!" Scout said. He wrapped his arms about her and nuzzled against her hair. Her bun messed up, but she didn't even kill him for it. She was so nice sometimes.

"Your ego didn't need to get any larger anyways," she said. From here, he could see her cheeks were a little flushed. How adorable was that?

"Too late, I can feel it growin' already!" he teased.

"God save us all, it's already visible from space," she said.

"Yeah, my ego is amazin', can you blame it? So am I!"

"So you keep saying," she said.

"Well, I say it because it's true," he said.

She didn't reply to this.

"You think it's true, right? Or do I gotta tell you some more about how awesome I am, in case you forgot? Because I can totally do that. I can do that all day. Seriously, just watch me. Listen, I mean."

"If I didn't know it was true, you wouldn't be here with me," she replied with a sigh.

There was a huge section of erotic hats, and even his old standby the Hotdogger, though Miss P headed in another direction. Even when shopping for, well, special stuff she worked it like she was a woman on a mission. He could only imagine the kind of coupon-inflicted damage she could manage in a grocery store.

He pulled his hat a little lower around his ears as he looked around. Some of this stuff was real wild, and most of it he didn't even know where it went. He lifted up some kind of weird beaded thing. A glance at the label revealed it to be anal beads.

"What, are they makin' a necklace in their ass?"

Miss P was too caught up in her extreme adult couponing to notice. A shame, it was an awesome line, too.

He went over to the book section, then, with a whole lot of how-to books. He didn't want Miss P to see him looking, though. Never mind that she already knew firsthand about how much experience he had. Maybe he could get one of these and hide it away. He probably should've done that in the first, but he hadn't exactly known about the place, or that he'd be having trouble in bed.

The first one he picked up had a picture of Saxton Hale flexing on the cover. Don't You Wish Your Boyfriend Was Hot Like Me?: Saxton Hale's Guide To Wooing, Dating, And Animal Wrestling.

A glance over the chapters showed such headers as Growing Your Mustache Australian Style and Wrestling Bears To Win Her Affection.

He'd never grown much body hair, and he wasn't gonna wrestle any bears anytime soon. It looked like old man Hale wasn't going to help him any, so he put it back and walked back to her.

"Did you help set this whole shop up?" he said.

Miss Pauling looked up at him. "As if you have to ask?"

As she looked at little rubber rings, he picked up something slinky. Oh, yeaah. Now this was something he could get into. He picked it up and put it in front of her to get her attention.

"It'd look great on you," she said. "Especially if we find some heels to match."

"Hey, hey, I don't wear petite," Scout said in protest.

She laughed. "And that's your only complaint? My, my, does this mean I get to dress you up in pretty little things?"

"Babe, if it gets me laid, you're allowed to do almost anythin' to me."

"Good to know," she said.

He lifted up a giant vaguely penis-shaped thing. He didn't even know what the hell to call it, maybe a dick-shaped tool of destruction?

"Where the hell would I even put that? I bet I could smack someone to death with this thing, it's the size of a mace!"

"Can't say, I never was much of a size queen," she replied.

It took him a second for that to sink in. Was she saying.....?

"Miss P, you sayin' that I'm—"

She cut him off. "I'm saying you're the right size for me. Any larger and I'd had to have told you 'it's not you, it's that I want to be able to walk home without limping.'"

Okay, he puffed up a little bit about that. What guy wouldn't want to hear he was just right for his girl? Even if she'd technically said he wasn't monster sized, well, he already knew that. He showered alone for a reason.

She lifted up some kind of thing from the vibrator section. It was white and small, with a flared base. "I could tie you up and watch you squirm and beg until you came so many times that you were exhausted," she said in a low, husky voice that did things to him. She had this intense, even dark look on her face that only could imply he would be tied up in a dungeon somewhere and be told what a naughty, naughty boy he was. He took a sharp intake of breath. Fuck, she was hot.

"Or, I could do that to you," he said. He grinned suggestively.

"Both is an acceptable answer," she said, and put it in the basket.

"So, Miss Pauling, slinky stuff?" he said, lifting up the lingerie again.

"I always saw lingerie as a little pointless. It's a lot of money for not a lot of material that doesn't even stay on that long."

"Gimme pictures of you like that and I'll trade up the pinups and magazines I got," he said.

"My, you strike a hard bargain. How do I know they won't fall into the wrong hands?"

"I'll put 'em in a safe, and let you set it up," he said. "If anyone tries to get 'em, I'll beat them so hard they'll regret ever bein' born."

"Deal," she said.

"Fine choice in hats, sir. Very incognito. Perhaps you would like some of Saxton Hale's own False Mustaches to complete the disguise? They're made from genuine bear fur which Mister Hale killed with his own bare hands," the man at the register said flatly. He looked utterly done with everyone, especially them. His name tag said Bidwell. He hadn't even recognized him with the penis hat, which apparently was the uniform.

"Cut down on the sass, Bidwell, and just check out," Miss Pauling said. She looked even more annoyed than Bidwell. Maybe she really hated penis hats.

"–or my ass is grass. I know, Miss Pauling, I know."

"...she's goin' to smoke his ass? Hey, pally, the only ass she's going to smoke is mine."

Bidwell and Miss Pauling both just looked at him.

"What? My comebacks too awesome for you or somethin'?" Scout said.

"Be careful, or Saxton might make you work along with him," she said.

Scout puffed himself up. "I'd pull it off," he said.

Bidwell sighed and smoothed out the wrinkles of his uniform. "This is what happens when Saxton's breakfast steaks aren't in stock. I told him there was a massive food shortage due to a bombing disposal problem, but that wasn't an acceptable answer."

Miss Pauling nodded. "I understand, but it won't last long. He can't find anything without you."

"I keep telling myself that," Bidwell said. He put on a brave smile which was somewhat hampered by the bobbing of his phallic hat.

It was only when they were out of earshot that Miss Pauling spoke.

"That could be me next," she said.

"Aw, babe. You'd look cute as a dickhead," Scout said. He put his arm about her as they left, hoisting up the bag with his other hand.

*

The closer they got to her apartment, the more jittery he got. His knees bobbed as Miss Pauling drove, his grip on the side door hard enough to leave marks.

"—So then, there was this giant bear fightin' book which old man Hale published—I didn't know he was a writer!"

"I'm fairly sure he dictated it to a ghostwriter, likely Bidwell himself. By the way, how many coffees did you drink today?" Miss Pauling said.

"Uh—five!"

"Only five, huh," Miss Pauling said dryly.

It's four less than usual by this time of day, though–!"

The car came to a stop. He hadn't even realized they were there already. He looked around, desperately searching for another topic.

"Yeah, I think I'm goin' to get another cup—you want some? How do you take it, sugar and milk in yours? I take five sugars and a cup of milk in mine. Just enough so it barely tastes like coffee anymore, but I get the buzz for runnin', because they won't let me have BONK outside of matches anymore—"

"Scout," she said, cutting him off.

He broke off mid-sentence, with a deer-in-the-headlights look, as if she'd caught him right in the middle of doing something wrong.

"Calm down."

"It's just—nothin', nothin' is wrong, I just need a drink before I go in and—I just need a drink, okay!"

"This isn't about coffee, is it? You're still hung up on last night, aren't you?"

"Look...it's—"

With the way she was looking at him, he knew she'd catch him in a lie the minute he said it. Anyways, he was trying not to lie to her these days. He'd actually admitted stuff he'd been blowharding about for ages, and it felt pretty nice. He'd never had this thing with a girl where he didn't just want to fuck her, but she was also kind of his friend, too. Truth be told, he trusted her, and it felt nice to rely on somebody and know she'd still be there even if he was a dumbass and fucked up every once in a while. Rare while, because he was frigging awesome, but hey, it happened to the best of them.

"It's hard for us guys, you know? We gotta go in there and be some kind of superhero lover, or we're failures at life. And I am a great superhero kind of guy, but that don't mean I don't strike out sometimes. Not often, though."

He'd never admitted this out loud before. In life, he'd learned that it was pretty much just him and his ma who believed he'd ever amount to anything ever, and if he kept yelling he was awesome, he could drown out the nuns who smacked him with rulers and sent him out of class, the kids on the block who called him a jackass runt and Mick, and project rat.

"How many women have you been with?" Miss Pauling said.

His first reaction if this ever came up from anyone–doctor, one of the guys, one of his brothers or old schoolmates–was so many I can't even remember anymore. Tons! Tons! I can't even remember names, there's just so many, because the girls just love me!

"Nobody. I was, uh, pretty caught up with work." He tugged at his shirt collar and tried to put on a brave face. "Real hard worker, you know. I barely see girls outside of missions, even less after the whole bomb in a shopping mall thing. I mean, sure, plenty girls would've loved to ride this, but I had to put food on my family's table."

"As I suspected. Nobody is very good their first time," she said.

He let out a long breath. Sure, he'd known he wasn't that great, though he'd tried real hard, but it hurt to hear from her. Besides, he had kept her company in the second round so it had to make the first strike count for less.

"Did I deal a blow to your ego?" she said.

"Little bit," he said.

"Don't be. You weren't entirely terrible in the follow up point. You listened and followed what I asked. You're quite a fast learner, too. Just because you weren't experienced didn't mean I didn't enjoy myself in the end."

"Yeah....." he said. Hearing that he wasn't 'entirely terrible' wasn't exactly that comforting. It wasn't supposed to go like this, though. Everything was supposed to go amazingly for his first time, and he'd choked out before he even got inside her! What kind of cop-out bullshit was that?

"Did you even have a girlfriend before me?" she said.

"Crushes, sure, but nothin' so serious. I came into the industries pretty early. I was barely clearin' teens when I started in the matches, and before that, I failed out of boot camp, and there weren't any girls there."

"Ah." She shifted a bit, and opened up the door. "You're really a romantic, aren't you?"

"What do you mean?" Scout said. "I ain't some fancypants—"

Scout followed after her into the house. She carried the shopping bag imprinted with Saxton Hale winking inside, and wound through her small base apartment to her room. The bag was set

"What do you mean?" Scout said again, with more force.

"Or perhaps I should say an idealist? I'm a pragmatist. I dislike imperfect things and jobs, of course, but expect imperfection from people. I suppose you wanted it to be just right?"

He looked down awkwardly. "Who wants to botch up somethin' they've been waitin' for and dreamin' and hopin' about for years? I mean, who doesn't want it to be just right? Nobody thinks 'oh, yeah, I'm gonna fuck up today and it is gonna be great! Wow-fuckin'-wee, I sure loved comin' all over her face and wreckin' her glasses!'"

"I've had worse nights," Miss Pauling said.

Scout just made a noise in the back of his throat.

"You don't want to know about my past?" Miss Pauling said.

He raised his eyebrow. "What now?"

"It wouldn't be fair of me to demand it from you and not give you a chance to ask," she said.

The truth was, he'd wanted any scraps of information about her, the gorgeous mysterious assistant of the big lady up there, the girl whose name he didn't even know for ages. He'd learned a lot of things over the years: what she liked

But the kind of guys she'd been with? That was one thing he could live the rest of his life without knowing. Because then he'd just want to track them down and punch them in the face for ever hurting her or making her sorry, and thank them for fucking up enough that he got his chance with her. Maybe even both at once.

"Well, I want to know about you, sure. Them...nah. It'll just piss me off, so why dig it up? Sure, there's been guys before, but...I wanna be the last. That's way more important than bein' the first. The best thing I can know about all those other guys is that they weren't good enough, but I was."

Her expression softened, and she rested her hand against his chest. "Your ego doesn't need this in the least, but I'm not going anywhere."

"—Really? I mean, 'course I am, babe. You think the Force-A-Nature just referred to my fightin' style? Hell no."

She rolled her eyes and shook her head, but it was affectionate. He'd even gotten to the point of knowing her where he could tell affectionate and actual annoyance with him, and he saw the actual annoyance a lot less.

"I like you enough to keep trying—besides, you do some amazing things with your tongue. It's the hardest I've come with an actual person."

He puffed up at that, only the last note made him stoop down from his ego high and have to consider what she meant by that.

"As opposed to what? A robot?"

She dug under the bed and pulled out a little purple round thing with a long wire attached to a remote. She sat on the bed, and he joined her, kicking his shoes off.

"Meet my love life from the past three years."

"She's pretty cute. Maybe we should have a threesome," Scout said.

She chuckled at this. "She?"

"Yeah, she's pretty cute. Hey, lil mama, I hear you been takin' care of her until I came around. I should thank you for that." He licked the bullet-shaped vibrator and she flicked it on. It left a pleasant buzzing sensation on his tongue.

"You're ridiculous."

"Oh, you know you love some of this," he said.

He pressed it against her inner thigh, and she gasped right off. He set just above her thigh high pantyhose button, and ran the little vibrating bullet up higher, teasing it at the lacy edge of her panties.

She tugged at his shirt. "Don't make me wait," she said.

He smirked at her as he pulled it off, blinding him just a second as red cloth went in front of his face. He tossed it and did a pose.

She reached for his pants, undoing the zipper with her mouth. When she'd unzipped him all the way, she smiled up at him with the metal zipper in her mouth. All he could think was hot damn have I hit the jackpot.

"So, you wanna try this rubber thing?" Scout said, clearing his throat.

"Does it make you nervous?"

"'I can handle it. Is it gonna hurt?" he said. "I mean, I can handle pain and all, but dick pain is another thing entirely."

"Not if it fits right," she said.

"If?" he said.

"It should, I took measurements," she said.

Well, so had he ever since he could frigging count.

She bent to lick the head of his cock very softly, and that shut him up right off. As she licked him, she started putting on this sweet-smelling oil, which smelled like her. She gripped him at the base, waiting for him to stiffen more. Her breath was warm against his skin, her lips so damn perfect abut him. Her loose hair brushed against his cock, leaving this tingling sensation, and the increased arousal for the simple fact she was touching him.

She'd undone her purple blouse enough that he could see cleavage and a lacy bra peeking out and just begging him to bury his face right in there, but not even he could bend that hardcore. He made a mental note for later.

She fitted the ring painlessly about his cock and balls. It was far simpler than he thought it'd be. He took a breath and waited as he gripped his cock. It felt harder than he'd ever been, and he guessed that was the cuff about the base.

"Does it hurt?" Miss Pauling asked.

There was a definite pressure, but not so tight to really make him feel any pain. There were still a few oh god, there's a thing around my dick! thoughts going through his mind, but he trusted her to know what she was doing.

"Nah, it's fine," he said. She undid the rest of the buttons as he avidly watched. Each one revealed a little more skin, the lacy cup of her bra cupping her full breasts. She didn't have freckles over her face, but there were a few light ones over her chest. He had a sudden urge to play tick-tack-freckle with his tongue.

She moved over enough for him to move onto her white sheets, the purple blanket pushed back. He pushed the bullet vibrator over her panties, putting it up to maximum speed with his thumb. She squirmed with pleasure as he rubbed at it.

He licked a trail over her chest, close enough that he could hear her rising heartbeat.

"Ooh–"

He kept the vibrator there as she began to rub against it, her body griding against him in the process.

"Move up a little," she said. He pushed himself up, dislodging the vibrator in the process. She undid her purple lacy bra at the front clasp and pushed it off the bed.

"You. Are. Perfect," he said. "F-Friggin' mesmerizin'!"

He groaned as he pushed his face right into her jiggly breasts again, making another hot line with his tongue between freckles. He righted the vibrator and she made the cutest surprised sound as he found the right spot. He began to suck on her left breast, running his tongue over in a quick motion, enough to leave her shifting and gasping. She took the vibrator from him, and he took the chance to begin kneading her other breast as he sucked.

"Not too hard, okay?"

He kept on kneading and sucking, until her moaning and gasping—hell yeah she was loud with him around—hit a high point.

She began to move under him, pushing down her purple lacy panties until they caught on her calves.

"If we go right now, we might be able to come together," she said.

"Ahhh...You're just right," she said, sighing happily as he pushed into her.

You're so big was such a cliche. He'd take being just right any day.

She ground her hips slowly, and best of all, she was watching him, really watching him. Side by side, her leg over his they moved together in tandem.

Seconds ticked by and he wasn't striking out, even though this was a more pleasure than he'd ever felt in one place ever. He thrust into her, getting to feel the strong buzz from the vibrator rubbing between them both, somehow it still hadn't gotten dislodged from between them.

The seconds became minutes, and he focused on that. Like the times when he'd push himself to run faster, run longer until his legs would ache, he pushed himself to last longer. But damn, it was hard. She was so utterly pliant and smooth against him, her breasts rubbing up against him, the nipples hard with arousal.

Even though he was panting for breath, he leaned in to kiss her, feeling the slickness of lipgloss over his lips. She'd taken on this contented, glassy-eyed look, her face and chest flushed harder now.

"Ready?" She said.

He heard the sounds of her pleasure hitting their height, and feel every clench of her body over his, drawing out a stronger orgasm than any he'd ever had.

Five minutes, now that was some damn improvement. Before she leaned back to relax, she pulled off the cock ring, and left one kiss on his abdomen, with a purple lipstick print left right there.

She stretched out in contentment, with a big smile on her face. He'd done that, he'd made her this happy and given her a real good time. So, he choked earlier, but now he was batting a fricking thousand. Okay, more like five hundred, but his game was still seriously good.

"So?" Scout said. He smirked, waiting just to hear what a perfect stud he knew he was, but made all the sweeter that it was from her lips.

"Good—very good," she said.

"Boo-fuckin' yeah," he said. He pulled her close and kissed her, warm and long and close, until he finally had to come up for air.

"Listen—I'm serious as can be about you, Miss P," he said. He wished he could figure out some way to make it go another level, give her his class ring or something, or let her wear his letterman jacket. But he'd always been a poor boy before TF Industries hired him on, and didn't have much on hand except his dog tags, and he was pretty sure she didn't want those.

"We haven't even been dating a year yet," she said.

"Yeah, but I was chasin' after you for years." Okay, he was dense, but even he knew that it probably wasn't the time to say that he had picked out the names for their future kids and dog.

She pushed herself up and considered him. "When I said in both ways, I meant it. I've never been happier with a person, and yet...I feel like something's going to give. This can't go on forever," she said. Sadness came over her face, and he just wanted to kiss it away so she'd never be sad again. So he, did, because that was how Scout worked. Two seconds of thought and then doing. The best part was that he could do it now, he could kiss her all he wanted—well, within reason. Still couldn't make out with her as much on base as he wanted, but she'd never get any work done if he got to kiss her every time he saw or thought about her.

"Listen, whatever the world throws at us, I've got your back. Literally, even," he said. He playfully gripped at her ass. "Huh? Huh? comic genius."

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, Scout, I got the joke."

"You know, I'm going to order you around and constantly correct you about things, that's just how I am," she said.

"I can deal. I mean, sure, I get annoyed if any of the guys pulled somethin' like that, but you...you know your shit, you know? Besides, you tellin' me what to do is hot."

"Eventually you'll find it annoying. One day you'll tire of me and won't look at me that way anymore. This is just a contact high...it won't last forever," she said.

"Three years of tryin' and I ain't tired of it yet," he said with a loopy grin, remembering all the times she'd harshly told him to get back to work. Man, she was the hottest stuff around. Possibly ever, other than him, that was.

"Yes, but I'm a workaholic. I have extremely long hours and I can be very demanding, the job is always going to have to come first," she said.

"Yeah, I got that, given that we didn't get to bed until six frickin' months in and how many dates got canceled," Scout said.

"You really want to be in a committed, long term, monogamous relationship with me?" She said.

"Yeah, bet you didn't know I had it in me, huh?" Scout said.

She leaned back and studied him. Messy hair, smudged lipstick, hickies all over. She'd never looked prettier to him.

"Well, if communication is the key to a relationship, then we'll last forever given your...gift for gab."

He snickered at this. "Hell yes!" He lifted his fist. "Hit me up!"

"Are you honestly asking to brofist on our relationship?" she said.

"Yep. It's just that awesome."

She shook her head slowly, in this mix of affection and annoyance, but she lifted her fist to be bumped.