Chapter Text
Surface. They needed a surface.
As if reading Trevor's mind, Hetty broke from his mouth, her lips red and wet, and gasped out, "The desk." She pointed shakily to the one to their right, up against the wall.
Fuck. This was actually happening. Sex. With a woman. With Hetty. Her mouth felt so good against his. So did the feeling of her body pressed up against him, her right hand in his hair, her left hand grabbing his ass. Hetty was grabbing his ass. Hetty!
She was so gorgeous. That red hair, against her skin. Those eyes. That face. Those completely covered up boobs. Why hadn't he noticed before?
They stumbled toward the desk, still plastered together, hands and mouths all over each other. God, he was so hard. She was so warm and firm and she smelled so good and the fabric of her dress felt so nice against his palms. Those sighs and moans she made when he kissed her neck. He'd missed this so much. Missed making out, missed sex, missed learning someone else's body with his mouth and hands. It had been so long. It'd been twenty-two frickin' years! Hell, forget that, it'd been so much longer for poor Hetty! Maybe... a hundred... years? Math too hard. Brain not working. Way too horny.
(Wait.
What if he'd lost the moves?
No way. T-Money would always have the moves. Just like riding a bike. A sex bike.)
Partly to prove to himself he hadn't lost the touch and mostly because it was hot, he lifted Hetty up and sat her on the desk. She let out a throaty, evil chuckle that made his dick twitch, made him want to go down on her for hours. It felt so, so good, hearing her dissolve into moans as he kissed her neck, ran his hands along her sides. She grabbed one of his hands, placed it on her still-totally-covered-up breast. Oh God, he was finally touching a boob for the first time in two decades! He squeezed gently and she gasped, kissing him, greedy for it, sliding her tongue into his mouth. Fuck.
"You are insanely hot," he said after pulling away briefly.
She flicked her eyes over him. He didn't miss how she lingered on... what his shirt was no longer able to hide. "Not so bad yourself."
He kissed beneath her chin. Well, less kissing, more sucking. "And you smell so good."
"As do you," she said coolly.
"Calvin Klein," he said into the other side of her neck.
"Trevor?" Then Hetty actually... rucked up her skirts a little and... slid her legs apart. She hadn't gathered the skirts up all the way, they still covered everything but... this was Hetty that just did that. Hetty Woodstone. Hetty. She arched a red, eternally well-groomed eyebrow. "Are we doing this or not?"
He immediately stepped between her legs. "Oh, we're doing this. If you want it."
She tugged on his tie, fingering the material. "Oh, I think I've made what I want very clear." She yanked him forward by the tie, then, and kissed him again. He could feel her gathering her skirts up, smushing them down so that... God. So that she was... exposed.
Whoah. More exposed than he'd expected. Her old-timey-long-john-panties didn't have a crotch. They didn't have a crotch! Trevor's mouth went dry. Not wanting to seem like a stunned virgin on prom night, he hid his face in her neck, composed himself. Slid his index finger down her midsection. Past her navel, into the giant pouf of hiked-up skirts. "I'll start with my finger. All right? If you want."
Hetty was breathing heavily already, which was both a turn-on and a killer ego-boost. "I-- I suppose that's wise." Gently, he slid his finger inside her and fuuuck, it was so slick and soft and hot. Hetty's back arched against his free hand.
"You're so wet," he whispered, loving it.
She slapped him hard across the face.
They both froze, staring.
"That," Hetty stammered, "that was... a reflex."
Trevor removed his free hand from Hetty's back. He touched his cheek, red and stinging. He was harder than he'd ever been in his life. "Do it again," he said, amazed.
"Are you mad?" Hetty cried, but before he opened his mouth to beg, she did it again, just as hard.
Trevor clutched his face. It tingled. "Woof. I had no idea I was into that." He kissed her sweetly. "Thanks." Then he started to slide his finger back and forth inside her, fucking her gently with it. Hetty buried her face in his neck, groaning. He felt her grind herself onto his finger and his dick twitched, leaked, at how fucking hot that was. That Hetty, that she...
"More," she hissed into his jaw, clutching the lapels of his jacket, "I need more. The real thing. Now."
Hetty was just as covered up and corseted as she'd always been, but clearly something inside had unbuttoned, unlocked, set her free. She was pure need. Writhing.
He slid his finger out and, gently, slowly, slid himself in. He clutched her, the small of her back, hissing through clenched teeth as he felt her, hot and wet and soft, and she squeezed herself around him. "Fuuuuuck," he groaned. "Yes. Oh, God, yes. Finally."
Hetty gasped, her voice deep. "Oh. Oh, yes. Ohhh, yes. More."
He started to move, taking it easy, he didn't want to hurt her, that was the last thing he wanted, and she moved with him and oh, that felt really, really, really good. Amazing. "Harder," she said. More of a growl. She was gonna kill him. It was too hot, he was gonna die.
He fucked into her harder, kissing her neck, and she kept rocking into him, kept meeting him. "You like that?" He sounded confident, playful. He had no idea how. How he even got the words out. How he said anything beyond, Guhhhh.
"Yes," Hetty said, her voice all deep and husky. "Yes. I like that. Good boy."
It took everything not to blow his load right then, hearing that. Yet another thing he hadn't realized he was into. He reached down, used his thumb to rub her clit as they kept fucking. Hetty's gasp was fluttery, surprised. "Yes! Yes! Again! Trevor!"
He felt smug. "Anything you s--" Her tongue was in his mouth. The kiss was intense, sloppy. He clutched her hair with one hand, still busy with the other, starting to fuck her a little faster. A little tough to stay coordinated, but T-Money knew how to multitask.
"Like this?" he murmured. "With my hand?"
"More. Harder. Right now."
Yesss, she sounded great doing that. "Mm, yeah, boss me around, baby."
Hetty pulled back, aghast. "That-- that pet name will not do."
He blinked. "Then what do I call you?"
Hetty looked at him like he was dumb. "My name?"
Figuring they should table this, he switched to the heel of his palm, since it sounded like she wanted more pressure. "Yes," she sighed, grinding against his hand, "yes, yes." Jackpot.
"You're so hot," he hissed against her mouth. "So fucking hot. So gorgeous."
"I shouldn't," Hetty managed, rocking against him, "shouldn't sanction such foul language."
"Mm hm?" He sucked on her neck. Could ghosts leave hickeys? "What are you gonna do about it?" His eyes widened as she smacked his ass, sharply. It felt great.
"To the right," she begged, touching his hand.
He obeyed, rubbing in that direction and she groaned. She kept squeezing him. God, he wanted to come so bad, but he knew only d-bags came first.
"You close?" he asked, in her ear. She nodded, breathing heavily. Oh, thank God.
He kissed her, kept rubbing her the way she liked, kept thrusting and he felt her squeeze and spasm around his dick, heard her moan again and again, felt her clutch his hair tightly. She moaned his name and that had him coming, hard.
He breathed heavily, hands planted on either side of her, pulling out. They made their way to the floor, laying there, shellshocked.
After a moment, Hetty cuddled up to him, which he didn't expect, and which he liked, a lot. He'd always loved the afterglow cuddle stuff. He wrapped an arm around her, pulled her close, played idly with her hair.
"Finally," Hetty said with a dreamy sigh. "After years of starvation, a satisfying meal."
"Amen."
They lay that way for a good while, her head nestled against his chest, him stroking her hair. Sometimes he picked up her hand and kissed her knuckles.
She tenderly brushed a strand of hair away from his forehead. Then pulled out of his embrace and sat up, smoothing her dress down. "Well. Now that we've got that out of our systems, I trust both of us are content to pretend this never happened? And, obviously, it won't happen again."
Oh. Trevor's stomach clenched. His heart sank. "Totally," he said, sitting up. "Of course. Absolutely."