
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1165548.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Choose_Not_To_Use_Archive_Warnings, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Hunter_X_Hunter
  Relationship:
      Gon_Freecs/Killua_Zoldyck, Gon_Freecs_&_Killua_Zoldyck
  Character:
      Gon_Freecs, Killua_Zoldyck
  Additional Tags:
      Yaoi
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-02-02 Words: 1360
****** Close to You ******
by fictionboybuttsex
Summary
     Angsty masturbation aka feels with porn
Notes
     I'm sorry for the summary I hate writing summaries and sometimes I
     can't take them seriously... also I almost never ever ever write
     angst but I like how this one turned out??? You be the judge, I
     guess.
“G-Gon.”
It wasn’t even a whisper. Killua’s mouth formed the name, but the only sound
was his ragged breath and the faint rustle of the bed sheets. He licked his
lips as he continued to pump himself. His cock grew stiffer, approaching
climax. His chest ached, his throat felt raw. He grasped a handful of the
sheets with is free hand, biting back all the sounds he wanted to make. Gon was
sleeping in the bunk right below him. He couldn’t let Gon hear. He couldn’t…
He lay on his side in the bed, hating himself.
What the hell was he doing? Why did he feel this way, and why did it have to be
so painful? He was content with how things were, wasn’t he? Happy even. So why…
Pre-cum began to dribble from his cock, getting under his fingers and making
them slip easily along the shaft. He twisted his legs in pleasure, trying to
hold himself back from the threshold of orgasm. His shorts tangled around his
ankles.
He was disgusting. He loved Gon. He loved Gon for being his friend, for
changing his life, for the way Gon smiled, for that purity of innocence. But
now every time he looked at Gon he felt like he was making his best friend
dirty. Adoration and unconditional love gave way to lust. He wanted to go back
to the old days. He wanted to go back to the time before he started seeing Gon
with such selfish, loathsome desire. He didn’t want to continue to lie and
corrupt the image of Gon he held so dear.
The entire underside of his penis was slick with pre-cum. He pumped faster, his
thumb caressing the tip as his hand slid up, hitting his balls as it slid down.
Everything about him was tense. His toes curled. His balls were pulled up tight
in their sack. His jaw clenched. His penis had swelled so much that it hurt.
And yet in spite of all the physical stress on his body, despite the sheer
sensual pleasure, he kept seeing the same thing in his mind and saying the same
thing in his heart.
Gon.
Gon.
Gon.
His blazing, uncorrupted eyes. His mouth, so small, soft, and boyish. His body…
not quite a boy’s, anymore. They bathed together sometimes, so Killua knew what
he looked like without his clothes. He’d never seen him with an erect cock, but
he could imagine it, poking out from under the wiry patch of hair that was just
as dark and thick as the spiky mess on his head. And there was his tight, small
bottom…
Gon.
Killua’s back arched, his hand clenched as it slid down, and he finally
exploded, unloading cum in one, two, three, four strong bursts between the
sheets. It
continued to dribble out afterwards. He felt some of it, thick, sticky, and
warm, clinging to his hand.
His breath felt shaky; his body trembled with fatigue. He hadn’t slept last
night either.
Gon.
“Killua?”
The sleepy voice made his heart skip. Killua froze.
“What’s that smell?”
He heard Gon sitting up in bed below him. No. No no no no no. The smell of
semen was cloying, quickly spreading through the room. Of course Gon’s
sensitive nose would pick it up. Killua needed an excuse, any excuse…
A pair of brown eyes peaked up over the edge of the bed. Gon’s face came into
view.
“Killua? What’s wrong?”
“I-it’s nothing. Go back to sleep.”
“Are you sick? You’re all flushed. And look… you’re trembling.”
He’d left himself vulnerable. After succumbing to his emotions and exhausting
his body, all to relieve his pent up desire and frustration, Killua was left
with no defense. Only a single bed sheet hid the evidence of his depravity. One
hand was still around his penis. His shorts, down around his ankles, made an
obvious bulge beneath the covers. He dared not move.
“Gon… please. I need to be alone for a few minutes. Please.”
“Let me help you.” The worry in Gon’s face pained Killua to the point of self-
loathing.
“Gon. I’m begging you. I’m fine so just… please. Please give me a little time.”
Gon opened his mouth to object again. Killua felt tears coming, and willed them
to stay back. Perhaps Gon saw something of that in his face, because he nodded
and disappeared. Killua heard his feet hit the ground. Next followed footsteps,
a door opening, and the door closing again.
As soon as he was alone, Killua threw off the sheet, tore his shorts and
underwear from his ankles, and tried to use the underwear as a rag to clean up
the cum on his hand and the bed. He jumped to the floor with shorts and soiled
underwear in hand, running to the bathroom. There he tossed the soiled shorts
into the trash, covering it with an empty chocolate box and some toilet paper.
He turned on the shower, closed the bathroom door, stripped off his tank top,
and tossed it onto the floor with his shorts. He stepped into the shower and
ripped the curtain closed, not even caring that the water was still frigid.
He took several unsteady breaths, shivering in the cold flow. The breaths that
were meant to calm him turned gradually into sobs as the water grew from cool
to lukewarm. He sat in the cold basin, hugging his knees to his chest and
sobbing into them pitifully. Gon wasn’t stupid. He would figure out what
happened. Killua couldn’t hide it after this. It was not that Gon would hate
him for it. Gon would comfort him, and see him just the same as he always had.
That was Killua’s biggest fear, and the last thing he deserved. He had never
deserved Gon’s friendship. And now…
“Killua.”
The bathroom door creaked open. He’d forgotten to lock it. Even under the
circumstances, Killua couldn’t help but to pull a pained, ironic smile. His
protection was reduced to a shower curtain.
“I’m really mortified,” Killua said, making a sound somewhere between a sob and
a laugh. “I’m really, really mortified.”
“It’s okay.”
Those two words were enough. Gon understood what had happened.
Killua clenched his teeth, shaking his head furiously. Water flew from his
hair, striking the curtain with a dull series of thuds.
“It’s not okay. I’m a horrible person.”
“Killua…” The shower curtain opened. Killua clenched his teeth harder, his eyes
firmly shut. He curled up into himself even tighter.
Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid.
A pair of arms wrapped around him and he felt the cotton of Gon’s tank top,
along with Gon’s heat and pressure, push upon his back. Gon laid his chin on
Killua’s shoulder, and held him tight. Killua’s body shook with pained,
intermittent sobs.
“I’m sorry, Killua. I should have realized how you felt. No… I did realize it.
I just pretended that I was seeing things wrong. I was happy with the way
things were.”
Of course. Killua had been happy with the way things were, too. So why had this
happened?
Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid.
“You’re my best friend.” Gon rested his cheek against Killua’s head. “I should
have acknowledged your feelings.”
“Idiot.”
Gon’s arms slowly released Killua, and the pressure on his back went away.
He’d have to leave. There was nothing else for it. Killua would have to leave
Gon.
“Killua, look at me.”
He didn’t move.
“Killua, please?”
The plea caught Killua off guard. It sounded so much like his plea for Gon to
leave. He lifted his head, and slowly, slowly turned around.
Gon’s face was pitiful, and beautiful to behold. His hair was soggy and
dripping, his smile small, gentle, and sad. If his large, honest eyes didn’t
convey his message, his pink-tinged cheeks and his next action certainly did.
Gon leaned forward, and he and Killua kissed.
The kiss was short, warm, and innocent. Killua felt more tears brimming in his
eyes.
“I’ll try, Killua,” Gon told him. “I want to be with you. So please. Please let
me stay by your side.”
Gon…
No, Gon.
It’s the other way around. It always has been.
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their work!
nd now her head was clogged with the taste of him. She should be
pulling away. She should be telling him to keep his tongue to himself. She
should be storming out to later use this against him. But here she was,
standing perfectly still, neither encouraging him or denying him. Which, in
itself, was probably encouraging him.
For a few tense beats, the only sound was that of their breathing. His breath
was hot against her neck, tickling the tender skin, and she closed her eyes.
She'd been kissed before. She'd been kissed well before. She'd been kissed
thoroughly, and passionately, and hard, soft, and any other adjective you could
name. But no kiss had stunned her so completely. No kiss had actually managed
to, by itself, dampen her panties. Veronica had never imagined that a mere kiss
could do that, and she certainly never imagined that if one did, it would be
administered by Don Lamb.
"You haven't left yet." She felt more than heard his words as they reverberated
off of her skin, his thumb beginning to move in slow circles on her material-
covered shoulder. His hand slipped down her arm, tracing the line of it until
it skimmed over to rest on her ribcage just below her breast. Her eyes
flickered open as she felt his moist lips close on her neck.
"I'm trying to figure out how you could have lived for so long without learning
to kiss properly." The answer was automatic. It left her lips before she even
realized she'd said it, but she still felt him smile against her skin. "Let me
go."
"You want me," he teased, his tone sing-song as his hand slipped up over the
curve of her breast. She pretended not to notice when his thumb brushed over
her nipple through her shirt and bra, but the slight hitch in her breathing
gave her away.
"Like I want leprosy."
She should move. She should shove him back. Maybe slap him for good measure.
She knew she should, but she couldn't. She was too curious. Curious as to his
motives. And, although she'd poke her own eye out before she admitted it,
curious as to what else he could do with his tongue.
He pulled his lips away from her neck, looking down into her eyes. The smirk on
his lips begged her to wipe it away with her knuckles, but, disturbingly
enough, she would rather have used her mouth.
Oh God. She was in trouble.
"You must have some pretty kinky fetishes, Veronica Mars."
She tilted her head back, raising her jaw defiantly, a flash of intrigued
disgust striking through her eyes. "You're vulgar." She said it like an insult,
but the low chuckle he gave suggested he took it as a compliment.
"Yeah. And it's turning you on, isn't it?"
She didn't respond, and Lamb must have taken it as encouragement, because his
fingers lifted to her shoulder, pushing the strap of her bag away. It dropped
to the floor, forgotten, and then her white button-up was gone too, slid down
her arms to wisp softly to the ground. His fingertips lowered to the hem of her
printed green tee, slipping under the hem to dance lightly along the pale skin
of her stomach. It tickled a bit, just enough for her breath to catch in her
throat, and a self-satisfied smirk flickered over his lips before he lifted the
shirt up and over her head. It fell to the floor, as forgotten as the bag.
Veronica was standing there, in front of Don Lamb, wearing her pants, and her
bra. She set her jaw, attempting to look as though she weren't as exposed as
she felt, and glared at him when she caught the amused glint in his eye. What a
prick. She despised him, and yet, here she was, standing half-clad while he
eyed her.
"Give me back my shirt."
She could easily have picked it up on her own, but if she moved, she'd
inadvertently touch him. He was seeing to it that she had very little personal
space, and if she told him to step back, he'd know that he was affecting her.
As if he couldn't tell already.
"No."
A response was on the tip of her tongue, but whatever witty comment she'd
planned on making flew out of her mind when his fingers slipped passed the hem
of her cargo pants, the pad of his thumb nudging the button through the hole.
Her eyes widened slightly, his rough handling of her pants jerking her slightly
away from the wall. His eyes were focused intently on her zipper, which he
yanked open to reveal her black cotton panties.
He stared for a moment, his thumb moving in slow circles over her hip bone, and
then his lips were on hers again. She didn't have time to think about
responding. It wasn't a conscious choice when her mouth opened to his tongue,
or when her arm slipped over his shoulder, her fingers winding into the hair at
the nape of his neck. She kissed him back as heatedly as she could manage,
moaning softly into his mouth when his fingers slipped from her hip bone around
to her ass, pulling her flush against him so that she could fully feel the
delicious pressure of his restrained erection pressing into her belly.
This was insanity. It couldn't be happening. She was not actually here, making
out with Don Lamb as he felt her up. But it had to be real. She could feel his
thick hair in her grasp, his utility belt pushing uncomfortably against her,
and his fingertips digging into her bottom. No dream could feel this real.
She pulled away from the kiss, but only managed to separate them by a few
centimeters.
"I'm not having sex with you," the blonde told him, more than a little proud at
the insistent tone she used, although it was a little too breathy.
"Yet," he countered, capturing her lips again.
He had a point. For someone who wasn't going to have sex with him, she was
getting awfully close.
Her head fell back against the wall of the interrogation room, baring her neck
to him, and he took the silently-offered opportunity, his tongue grazing down
the column of her throat to lave the curve where her neck met her shoulder. He
dragged his teeth over the glistening skin, and she sighed gently.
Veronica lifted her right hand, intending to push him back with it, but when
her palm met his shoulder, her fingers wrapped around it, pulling him closer
instead. It was like her body had a mind of its own. Her brain commanded her to
stop, but her body desperately wanted to have him inside her.
She hadn't really been with anybody. Of course, she wasn't counting the night
she and Duncan… It didn't count if she couldn't remember it. That was the way
she was looking at it. But Lamb… He was a disgusting, immoral, incompetent
asshole. With a completely chiseled body, and a hard on that promised she
would definitely remember this.
His hand slipped beneath her panties so he could knead her bare ass, but
quickly slipped around to her front to delve between her legs. Her body
stiffened as his fingers passed her damp curls, gently skimming over the moist
lips of her sex. The side of his index finger gave a quick flicker over her
clitoris and she gasped noisily, her vision flashing white for a moment.
"Your little boyfriend ever get you this hot?" His voice was low with desire,
and it took her a minute to process that he'd said anything. When she did, she
stopped breathing altogether.
Oh God. Duncan. What was she doing? She was with Duncan!
Panic set in, and she used the hand on his shoulder to try to push him away,
but it was like trying to move a brick wall. A brick wall that had its very
skilled hand down your panties. Her head fell back again, and she whimpered,
but even Veronica couldn't tell whether it was a result of frustration or his
fingertips rubbing against the sensitive bundle of nerves at her vertex.
"I said 'no'," she insisted, forcing her eyes open, although she hadn't
realized she'd closed them. She met his gaze, determination setting her jaw.
Determination to make him stop? Maybe. Determination not to groan? Definitely.
His response was an irritatingly insolent, "Yeah, so?"
She hesitated before letting loose her comeback.
"This is rape."
The sheriff's eyebrow quirked upward slightly, giving away his amusement at her
protest. He held her defiant gaze, his finger working down to dip into her. Her
breathing faltered as she squeaked softly, and a crookedly smug smile worked
its way to his face.
"You can't rape the willing, Mars."
Damn him.
"I'm not willing."
He shook his head, chuckling, and then dipped his head close to hers,
positioning his lips a breath away from her own. Hers parted expectantly, but
he didn't try to kiss her. Not this time.
"Then why are you so wet?"
 
 
HE LOVED THE glint that flashed through her eyes at his comment. It was an
intriguing mixture of irritation and lust, and it made him want to fuck her
that much more. And here, he hadn't thought it possible.
She didn't respond, and just knowing that he had the power to render her
speechless was enough to take his mind off the throbbing in his cock. … Okay,
so that was a dirty lie. There was nothing in the world that would divert his
attention from the task at literal hand. He was going to fuck Veronica Mars,
and she was damn well going to like it.
This was going to his head. His ego was swelling almost as much as his
erection, the way he was making her whimper, moan, and gasp. He'd wanted this
for so long, and he couldn't have imagined her reacting in a better way unless
she were to cover herself in Cool Whip and present herself on a silver platter.
But this… He preferred this. This was much more in character for her. He wanted
her to resist, to pretend she didn't want him, and then he wanted to drive all
that defiance out of her head with the things he could do to her.
Mentioning the Kane boy had been a dumb ass move on his part, but at least he'd
been able to distract her. He wasn't asking her to have an affair with him. He
wasn't asking her to do anything. He just wanted to fuck her, once, just to get
it out of his system. Then he'd be able to move on with his life, and neither
of them would ever mention it again. Duncan would never have to know. What the
fuck did he care if she went skipping back off to her boyfriend and whatever
incompetent fumbling he treated her to? This was a one-time fuck, plain and
simple.
Don kissed her again, plundering her mouth as he slid his middle finger as far
into her as the awkward angle would allow. Her panties rubbed uncomfortably
against the back of his hand, but he hadn't worked her up enough to stop yet.
His thumb worked her clit, rubbing in circles and alternating the pressure as
his finger pumped her. She was so hot, so tight. She couldn't have been fucking
Kane regularly. Maybe the poor kid couldn't get it up.
But, damn, who couldn't get it up for Veronica Mars?
He felt her tug at the radio he had clipped to his shoulder, and it fell away,
clattering to the floor. For the sake of consistency, he tugged the pack off
his belt and let it fall too, not caring if it broke. He'd get a new one. It
was worth it.
She pulled away from his mouth, and his eyes lowered to her lips, bruised and
moist from his kisses. For a moment, he thought she was going to protest again,
but then she just reached up to his tie and started to loosen it, pulling it
over his head and dropping it away.
He met her eyes again, and stopped his movements, for the moment forgetting
that he had his finger inside her. Something had changed. He could see it in
her eyes. She wasn't just going along with it now, she was a completely willing
participant. Sometime in the sixty seconds since he'd brought up her boyfriend,
she'd decided that maybe letting him fuck her through the interrogation room
table wasn't such a bad idea.
He wondered what had brought on this change, but he wasn't about to look a gift
horse in the mouth.
He was about to resume his movements when her fingers wrapped around his wrist,
pulling his hand out from between her thighs.
Maybe he'd been wrong. Maybe she had decided to stop him.
But all thoughts of stopping fled his mind when she lifted his finger to her
mouth. She slipped the tip of it passed her pliant lips, all the way down to
the knuckle, her tongue bathing it, cleaning his digit of her juices. His lips
parted in surprise, and he would have come in his pants at that exact moment if
he hadn't had incredible self-control.
"Jesus Chris, Veronica," he cursed, and a ghost of a smile passed over her
mouth. She gave a half-shrug, dropping his hand.
"Take off your shirt."
Her hands reached behind her back, presumably for the clasp of her bra, and he
watched stupidly as the elastics loosened. She started to pull it off, but
stopped when she noticed him staring silently at her.
"You wanna fuck me, or not? Take off your shirt," she commanded, and he
couldn't help but smile as his fingers lifted to the top button on his uniform.
He worked button after button through their holes, but his eyes never left her
as she dropped her bra to the floor, revealing pert, bouncy breasts with
pebbled pink nipples. He longed to tweak them, to take them in his mouth, but
he was going to finish unbuttoning his stupid shirt. He would not make a
desperate grab for her chest like a horny teenage boy.
He untucked the shirt, finished unbuttoning it as her thumbs hooked into the
waistband of her pants, shoving them, as well as her panties, down over her
hips. She bent as they passed her knees, straightened when she stepped out of
them, leaving her standing completely stark naked in front of him. His mouth
went dry at the sight of her. Miles and miles of pure, unblemished skin,
waiting for his touch. Begging for it.
Lamb barely registered the flicker of uncertainty on her face. He was far too
distracted by the rest of her. He cursed softly under his breath, and she must
have taken it as encouragement, because she reached for his belt, unbuckling it
and shoving it out of the way so she could work at the clasp of his pants. A
few good tugs and his khakis fell quickly to the floor under the weight of
holster and other work-related knick-knacks. His boxers were tented, the flimsy
material easily molded by his prominent erection.
She hesitated for a couple of beats before she reached for the elastic waist of
his boxers, pushing them much more slowly down than he could have managed. Inch
by inch, she released him, and when his boxers fell away, leaving him standing
in his open shirt, he swore she stopped breathing. Her glittering eyes locked
onto his cock and his pulse skipped a beat when she tentatively reached for it.
Her small hand wrapped around him, beginning to slowly stroke his shaft. He let
her get comfortable with the motion, but after a few pumps, he grabbed her by
the hips, pulling her hard against him and slipping his hands up to cup her
breasts. His thumbs brushed over her nipples, skimming his nails gently over
the peaks. Then he lowered his head, closing his lips around one of the
hardened pink crests.
She cried out for the first time since he'd started touching her however long
ago, and his cock jumped at the sound. God, she was sexy. How did Kane not have
her handcuffed to the bed day and night?
At the thought of her in cuffs, Don pulled back, quickly pushing her around and
bending her over the wooden table. Her hands landed flat on the surface with a
soft smack, and she started to push up, but his hand landed between her
shoulder blades, pinning her down.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" she snapped, though he highly
doubted she was anything but turned on by his action.
He took himself in his hand, directing his tip between her legs, and rubbing
his head over her dripping center. "I think you know what I'm doing, Veronica,"
he said quietly. She started to squirm back against him, trying to maneuver him
inside of her, but he reached up and grabbed a handful of her blonde hair,
yanking it back. She yelped.
"What the f-"
"Shut up." He grinned, although she couldn't see it, and dragged the head of
his cock over her clit. She moaned throatily. "Tell me what you want." He
wanted to hear her say it. He wanted her to beg for it. He wanted her to need
this as badly as he did.
"What?"
"You heard me, Veronica."
"Are you kidding?"
"Not remotely."
He dipped into her, just an inch, and then pulled back out, hearing her whimper
at the loss.
"I want you to fuck me." Her voice was raspy when she said it, heavy with
prurience.
"Say please." His free hand slipped over the pale globe of her ass, squeezing
the tight flesh.
"No," she objected automatically, as he'd known she would.
"Say it."
"I have the right to remain silent," she said snarkily, and he rolled his eyes.
Now was so not the time for her wit.
"Not if you want me inside you, you don't." He dragged the length of his shaft
over her wet folds to show her who was boss.
"Oh God," the blonde moaned, her forehead dropping to the table as her
breathing laboured. "Come on."
"Say –"
"Please! Please, Lamb, fuck me," she begged, and he didn't hesitate, thrusting
all the way into her in one fluid motion. When he was firmly planted inside
her, he stopped, letting her adjust to his size as well as savouring the feel.
"Oh fuck," he moaned, his hands landing on her hips to steady his movements.
He pulled slowly out and then pushed back into her, their skin slapping gently
together. She breathed a soft curse, but he didn't catch exactly which one
she'd uttered. He picked up the pace, pumping into her with a gradual increase
in speed that had them both gasping for breath. His fingertips dug into her
skin, leaving red marks as he grasped at her, now driving into her hard enough
for her thighs to bruise from banging into the table.
The noises she was making… There was no way she could realize how fucking sexy
that was, the throaty little moans and gasps and the muttering of expletives,
and occasionally even his name.
His forehead was damp with sweat, his blood thumping noisily in his ears as he
fucked her. She squeezed him tightly, her palms slipping over the table she was
pressed against. She rocked back against him, meeting his thrusts with her
hips, the angle of their positioning causing her to whimper with every
completed delve into her. He was no virgin. He knew what he was doing to her,
exactly where he was hitting inside of her, and he could tell from the way she
was clenching warningly around him that she was almost as close as he was.
A few more thrusts and he was a goner. He planted fully into her one last time,
spilling his hot fluids into her willing body as he collapsed over her back.
One of his hands reached up, pushing some blonde strands, damp with
perspiration, out of the way so he could kiss her neck.
When he felt his cock softening inside of her, he pulled out, and she started
to straighten, but he pressed her down again.
"Don't."
"But you're –"
"Not done," he interrupted. "You're not done, I'm not done."
He dropped to his knees behind her, his hands rubbing slowly over her ass. He
let the fingers of his right hand slip between her legs, his fingers trailing
down over her entrance, delving in slightly, before lowering to her clit. He
began to work it again, applying a gentle but insistent pressure, and he
watched for a moment before pressing his mouth against her opening.
His lips parted, his tongue bathing her, and then slipping inside. He licked at
her, flicking the tip of his tongue into her as her rubbed her button. As
worked up as she'd been before he'd started this new activity, it didn't take
long for her body to begin to stiffen. He quickened his movements, loving the
taste of her – like warm mango and cream – and when she came, shuddering, she
gushed into his mouth. He lapped up every last drop of her, and only when her
spasms had died away did he stand, pulling his pants and boxers back up.
He zipped up, re-buttoned his shirt, and glanced over at the blonde girl now
recovering on the table. He thought briefly about saying something, if only to
end the pregnant silence between them, but then decided against it. She
wouldn't want him to say anything. There was nothing to say. So, instead, he
finished redressing, and exited the interrogation room, leaving her to dress in
peace.
 
 
WHEN DUNCAN ROLLED off of her later that evening, Veronica breathed deeply,
letting her eyes flutter closed. Well. That had been an interesting experience.
If by 'interesting', you meant 'completely unsatisfying'. But what had she been
expecting? As far as she knew, the only other experience Duncan had involved
her being completely drugged. He was young, and new at this. As new at this as
she was. He wasn't… He wasn't Lamb.
"Veronica?"
She looked over at him quickly, a shot of guilt striking through her at her
thoughts. She loved Duncan. He loved her. That counted a lot more than orgasms.
"Hmm?"
"Was it okay?" His brow was furrowed with worry, and she smiled to ease his
worries, rolling into him to cuddle up against him.
"It was great." For all thirty seconds.
There was a pause, but he seemed relatively comforted by her assurance, and
gently rubbed circles on her bared shoulder.
"What are you thinking?" he asked after a moment, his voice coloured in a mock-
feminine tone.
That, if he were Neptune's Sheriff, she wouldn't be laying here experiencing
this unfulfilled feeling. That maybe she should give him some reading material
to bulk up on. That she needed to shower. That she'd like to shower with Lamb.
"You know," she responded, her voice deepened to her feigned male voice, "I was
trying to remember the over-under on the Ohio State-Texas game." He laughed.
But something in his eyes told her he didn't quite believe her attempt at easy-
going pillow talk. He knew something was up.
But, if he'd had to guess, there was no way he could have come up with the
right answer. There was no way he could tell she'd been fucked by the sheriff.
Not a chance.
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