How I Met My Master Ch. 05byWarmMilk©
AN: As a head's up, there's some slight non-consent and reluctance in this chapter. And always, despite the fact that David calls our lead character "kid," everyone in this story is 18 years or older.
They say there's one guy in the world for every girl. One man who'll stand by you through everything and put all the others to shame. He's the kind of guy who lets you have the last slice of cheesecake; who doesn't kick you when you hog the sheets -- the kind of guy who holds your hair when you're puking up last night's tequila.
The fabled perfect man is not someone who makes a teenager pedal a tandem bike up a hill while he laughs at you and eats ice-cream.
The perfect man...is not David Kim.
"I'm sorry, but...how does this have anything to do with paying off your couch?"
I struggled to speak as I peddled. I'd never ridden a tandem bike before, and the weight on the backend was making it painfully slow for me to ascend the hill. I don't know why I'd agreed to the task in the first place. Blaine warned me about David, and ever since I'd arrived on his doorstep a mere 17 minutes late for our little "date," he'd done nothing but give me snarky attitude.
"I said you had to spend time with me. A mere hour every day for a month." David cast me a sly smile over his soy strawberry cone. I'd had to watch him buy two and then devour both before my eyes while I dragged his damn bike up a hill.
"So, what?" I paused in pedaling to avoid running my front tire into a tree stump. "My pain and suffering is payment for the couch?"
"Something like that," David ran his tongue along his wrist to catch a little of the cream. "You're going really slow, kid."
Visibly, I seethed. David was taking his sweet time walking up the bike trail beside me, and looking crisp and clean in a button-down and slacks.
"The point of a tandem bike is to have two people ride it," I stopped abruptly. Sweat was pouring off my forehead and sliding down my neck. The hair I'd spent half an hour straightening and fussing over in the bathroom had quickly become tangled and frizzy.
Against David's advice, I'd decided on a flowing sundress instead of shorts, and already the crisp white fabric was glued to my skin. As transparent as it had become, I was thankful for making the last minute decision of wearing a bra.
Not so much for wearing hot pink thong panties.
"And in case you haven't noticed, I don't sweat gracefully."
"Yeah it's...it's quite an unfortunate sight." David craned his head a little to get a better look at my ass, and then took a long lick of his ice cream. I couldn't help but notice the way his tongue moved, and though I fought hard against it, imagined it running over my skin. Between my thighs...
"Damn it!" I struggled to steady the bike over a pothole, and I heard David laugh.
"Easy. Tandems are pricey. You don't want to end up owing me more, do you?"
Grumbling softly, I started to pedal again.
"Or worse, hurt that pretty little ass of yours," David reached out to squeeze where he shouldn't be squeezing, and I panicked. In an attempt to avoid his hand, I let my feet off the pedals and slid backward down the hill.
"Use the hand brakes, fetus!" I heard David's yell, but my heart was beating so fast and the ground beneath me moving so quickly that I couldn't think straight. Without thinking about the brakes, I scraped my heels in the dirt in a desperate attempt to get some friction going. But when a corner of my dress snagged in the chain, I began to topple and could only watch in horror as the ground came whizzing up towards my face.
I was sure I'd rolled a few times down the hill before landing on my back again. Another thud sounded off, and I assumed it was the tandem bike crashing down next to me.
"Holy shit," David muttered. There was a splatter of something wet against my cheek, and it quickly worked its way down to my lips.
High-fat Soy Vanilla-Strawberry swirl...
When I opened my eyes, I saw David leaning over me. The ice-cream cone in his hands had disappeared, but there was a bright pink smudge of crème on the corner of his mouth. On the surface he seemed as bored-looking as usual, but when I focused, I could hear his breath coming in quick pants and see sweat on his brow.
He ran down after me.
The first thing I tried to do was stand, but David quickly placed a hand on my chest to stop me.
"You're bleeding," he said the words matter-of-factly. I almost didn't believe it until I saw the gash on my right calf and my cut up ankles. Before, when Blaine said David would only hurt me, I hadn't been expecting full-on bike trauma.
A simple "Yeah," was all I could manage. David approached me cautiously, as if scared I'd burst into tears, but it only took a moment for the smirk to settle back on his lips.
"Jeeze; even toddlers know how to ride bikes, kid." He lifted the edge of my dress a little to get a look at the wound and then sighed, fingering a torn section.
"I told you to wear shorts," David muttered, but then let his hand mold around my thigh. I didn't meet his eyes, but I knew he was staring. His warm fingertips were tracing odd patterns on my exposed skin and making me shiver.
"Stop trying to peek at me," I snatched back the edge and dragged myself into a standing position. As soon as I stood, however, I felt the pain. David leapt into action immediately, and when I stumbled, let me fall against his chest.
"I think...we have to go back to your apartment," I announced, and then felt David chuckle. It was a low sound that made his chest rumble and me blush.
"You move quick, don't you, fetus? If you wanted to fuck, all you had to do was ask." He ruffled my hair with another condescending little smirk and I couldn't stand it. It was already blatantly obvious that he was older than me, but the last thing I wanted was for him to actually make a big deal out of it.
I started to pout, but David took me by surprise when he hoisted me in his arms, bridal-style. My face was smushed against his chest and I could feel his hands dangerously close to my ass. I would have yelled again, but the potential for humiliation was too great.
"I can walk if you just let me lean against your shoulder," I mumbled into his shirt as he walked.
"Yeah, but this is nice, kid." he adjusted me in his arms. "I feel like I'm getting in touch with my inner child."
"I'm 18, not eight." I stretched my arms up around his neck for support as he began to speed up. "So stop calling me 'kid'!"
Around us, a few heads turned, and I buried my face in David's neck. For someone so paranoid about standing out in a crowd, I sure was doing a great job humiliating myself. Instead of focusing on the way David smelled strangely of sugary candies, I turned my gaze over his shoulder and sighed.
"Get down," David reached up suddenly and pulled on my arm.
"—I'm not carrying you inside. If you can banter with me, you can walk." He lowered his arms and let me use the brick wall for support. I was surprised when I saw the front of his apartment building.
"Th-that was..." I stammered as David swiped a card over the keypad. "How far away from the park were we?"
"It's a ten minute walk," he snickered at me as I stumbled up the first few steps. I let him guide me down the hall, but when he opened his front door, he rolled his eyes as I tried to avoid his yapping dog at the entryway. "You took forever with that damn bike. Speaking of which, I had to leave it behind. If it's not there tomorrow, you owe me three hundred bucks."
Instead of giving him my choice of a few choice words, I merely avoided the familiarity of David's water stained couch, and let myself fall into a sitting position on a white fur rug.
"Fetus, if you stain that too, I'm not going to be so friendly." David cast me a glare over his shoulder, but I settled myself down anyway.
"Will you stop calling me that?" something in me snapped. "Jesus Christ, have you ever been in a relationship that didn't involve sarcasm and belittling?"
"Have you ever been in a relationship that didn't involve getting fucked up the ass by a man older than your father?" David's tone was completely flat.
I didn't know how to respond. There wasn't a single trace of anything apologetic on his face, and I couldn't believe it. What kind of man said those things about a woman? Out loud?
The word 'tactless' crossed my mind, and suddenly it wasn't so hard to imagine David with Blaine, after all. She too, almost always said what was on her mind.
"I'm sorry," David turned his back on me and started rooting through the kitchen drawers for something. "Did that one hit too close to home?"
Once he settled on the item-- a traveler's first aid kit -- he came to my side on the floor. After his last dig, I was reluctant to let David touch my leg, but the way I saw it, he wasn't going to let me waste any more of his time.
"You have nice legs, kid." He placed both hands on my thighs and leaned in close.
I turned my face from his. "Don't say stuff like that."
"Like what? The 'nice legs' thing or the 'kid' thing?" David was breathing on my ear and I could smell the fresh strawberry from his ice cream. It was much better than cigarettes, but gave me a strange feeling.
The only man I'd ever been close to, aside from my first, was Mark, and thinking about him put butterflies in my stomach. Without noticing, I began to sweat again. Before I'd gone over to David's that afternoon, Blaine stressed to me how important it was for me to keep my distance. Explicitly, that meant no touching, no kissing, and certainly no sex. I wasn't certain what Blaine's intentions truly were with the lecture, but she assured me the whole thing was "for my own good." Honestly, it puzzled me. I couldn't figure out if she was truly concerned I'd get into something I couldn't handle, or if she was nervous about my proximity to a man that she really wanted.
Regardless of whatever she was after, some part of me wanted to rebel. I told myself I'd be a good girl as usual, but something stopped me from wearing a regular t-shirt and jeans. It was an inkling, a strange, naughty little voice that hand me picking out a tight thong instead of "granny panties" and deciding on a dress instead of the shorts David had insisted on.
'No,' I scolded myself. 'It's not like I wanted to-to impress him or something! No way!'
So as much as I wanted to lean in, I kept my face turned toward his patio area. Through the sliding glass I could see his clothesline and the pair of panties I'd left behind earlier. The whole thing was beyond embarrassing.
"First you're mocking me, now you're flirting?" I screwed up my face in disgust, but David didn't miss a beat.
"What can I say? I have a soft spot for morons." He started to push my dress up further and I snapped around to shove his hands away. The movement, however, sent a jolt of pain through my right calf.
"That's what you get. Stop squirming," David chided. "If you can't hold still, I can't fix this mess."
At that, I stiffened up and the two of us sat in silence. David's hands were large, like Mark's, but not as calloused. The pads of his fingertips felt smooth on my thighs, and I paid attention to the way he took great care in cleaning my scrapes. Even as he blotted the bloodied areas with alcohol, I barely flinched. While one hand worked, the other massaged my thigh. His hands were unusually gentle, and I could swear I felt him stroking sore spots.
All the attention was making me blush, and frankly, wet. I tried to channel up images of a stone-faced Blaine cursing me out, but all I got were dark, piercing eyes and those same, large hands roaming all over my body. I couldn't stop thinking about the blonde he'd had in his room -- her full, heavy breasts and the pink nipples clipped tight with silver clamps. The treatment itself was certainly rough, but there was something gentle in David's motions. His long stride across the room, his confident smirk, even the way his fist clenched when he pulled the mystery woman up by her hair.
"A-ah..." I bit my lip to stifle a moan, but from the devilish glint in David's eyes, I knew he'd heard it.
"So..." he smiled broadly. "...you and Gramps have a big fight last night?" David tried to look sincere, but I could tell his eyes were roaming over my breasts.
Even at a full C cup, they weren't nearly as large as the blonde's, but he seemed to take notice anyway. I pursed my lips in annoyance, but figured if David had done Blaine, he couldn't possibly have any fixation on breast size.
"It's none of your business what happened." The statement was supposed to sound bold, but when David used his thumbs to apply a little pressure on my upper thigh, it came out merely as a whisper.
"You ended up at my place, begging me to fuck you. I'd say it is my business," David straightened out my leg again and continued to walk his fingers up. His little shiatsu had me on the brink of pain and pleasure, but for some reason, I couldn't tell him to stop.
"Come on," he teased, "tell me and you'll feel better."
With any other man, I'd have already quietly taken my leave, but there was something about David. He was so brazen and shameless, so confident that it did more than piss the hell out of me. In fact, at some level, it tickled me and made me smile. I tried to hide the twitch in my lips by biting them closed, but I was finding out quickly that David was a keen observer. I focused on a spot over his head so that I wouldn't be forced to make eye contact, but as always, I could feel him smirking back at me.
"You're hurting me," I said quietly, an attempt to draw his focus to something else.
"Oh gee...sorry," David smoothed the last bandage on my ankle, but let his hand remain there. When he looked up again, I was drawn into his gaze. There was another long, awkward silence, and my heart was racing so fast I swore he could hear it.
"Blaine says I shouldn't get involved with you," I placed a small hand on his chest and let it rest there, palm down. I told myself it was to keep him from coming any closer, but really, I wanted to feel him -- the smooth skin and the hard muscle -- if only just a bit.
"Ooh," David murmured and leaned in. The distance between us quickly closed, and it wasn't long before I could feel his lips brushing over my neck. At first, it made me flinch, but when he kissed lightly, I sighed out. Almost unconsciously, I curled the hand I'd stretched out into a fist, clutching at his shirt.
"You're a bad girl..." I felt David close his eyes and then inhale against my nape. "Right? I mean, you're here, aren't you? You didn't listen to 'bitch Blaine'."
"I-I just I..." I couldn't hold back a gasp when he stroked the back of my calf again and dug the pads of his fingertips into the sore spot. Again, it stung, but there was something oddly arousing about the combination of the clashing sensations.
"I think she-she meant...you know..." My hand twisted in David's shirt when he reached around to my back in an attempt to steady me.
"You know...what?" he brought his face back up to mine and our faces were so close, I was tempted to lean in and put an end to the tease.
"Sex," I blurted without thinking, and David, once again, grinned at my discomfort.
"It's okay to talk about it," his voice suddenly became unusually quiet, and I relaxed in his hold. "It's okay to want to fuck."
"D-don't be so...so vulgar," I started to right myself a little, but David wasted no time in asserting dominance. With both hands, he shoved me back on the white, fur rug and pinned my arms so that he could stare down at my trembling form, grinning in triumph.
"It's just screwing, kid. Not art. It doesn't have to be this big, romantic deal." He said it so bluntly; I didn't know how to react. "Sometimes, you just wanna... get off."
I looked up into David's eyes and they looked dark and strange, the same shade I'd seen on the first night I'd watched him through my apartment window. When his lips honed in my neck again, my breath hitched and I turned my head away from his.
"Mark was..." I started talking before I could stop myself. "He was married,"
I expected David to stop completely, but he seemed less than phased. He merely let go of my hands and moved them down to my hips. That time, I didn't make any move to stop him. Instead, I closed my eyes and chewed my already sore lips as he began to ease the dress up, little by little. The whole thing was absurd. There I was, lying on a rug that probably cost more than my whole wardrobe, being undressed by a man I'd barely known three weeks. My brain was telling me to shove David off and run, but something deeper -- something on a level of attraction or most likely lust, was desperate to see what would happen if I indulged. If for a moment, just that once, I made a decision on my own and stuck with it.
But suddenly, when David got high enough to reveal my panties and I felt his thumbs hook under the thin fabric, something in me jumped.
"A-are you married?" My voice was a whisper and before I knew it, I was babbling. "Mark was married and-and he lied and...I can't if you...if I don't know if you...a-are you? Married?"
David stared at me blankly for a moment, but then shook his head.
"Yeah, right." he laughed off my fluster and then trailed a finger over the puffy lips of my labia. I imagined their soft imprint was easily visible against the sheer front of my panties. His hand was so warm, I just wanted to press into it and sink down onto his finger, but there was still tension in my body.
"What's wrong, kid?" David became a little more daring and rubbed his thumb against my slit. "Hmm? Don't you like sex?"
"Of course!" I squeaked. "I mean I've...I've had tons of sex! W-with like... tons of guys."
I watched David arch a brow and his little smirk grow wider, but he didn't question my lie. I should have tried to clamp my legs together, but quickly, the feeling of arousal was taking over my good senses. Suddenly, I couldn't seem to think of any reason I shouldn't indulge. Despite what Blaine thought, I wasn't a kid anymore. If David wanted to have sex with me -- if I wanted to have sex with him -- there should have been no stopping us.
"Well, if you've had tons of guys...what's one more?" he asked.
"I...you...barely know me. D-don't you have a problem with that?" I squeezed his shirt briefly once more, but then splayed my fingers out to trace over the exposed skin. He was so smooth and lean; it was intoxicating.
"A problem? Fetus, I barely know any of the girls I fuck," David reached out and placed his hand right over my chest, squeezing my breast through the top of my dress. "What's the matter? Your heart's racing a little, kid."
He was right. I was sweating and my heart beating a mile a minute. I couldn't remember the last time I'd felt so nervous around a guy.
"You scared?" he teased.
"No, I'm not scared! I just...hate your guts." I made sure to be blunt. "You're so...you're so mean and you do nothing but pick on me—"
"But..." I closed my eyes and tipped my chin up in defiance. "You're good looking. And-and I'm a woman and I have...needs."
"Needs?" David chuckled and then leaned all the way down so that his body was lined up just right with mine. I couldn't feel any signs of an erection, but his gaze was still smoldering. It was reminiscent of the gazes Mark gave me before he indulged, but there was something vaguely sinister with David that sent lovely little shivers down my spine.
"Tell me," he continued when I brought my focus back. "What kind of needs does a little girl like you have? Hmm? What kind of things does she long for? Besides a warm bottle and blanky?"