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29 July 2007 @ 01:01 am
fic | d:tng | sangria | pt 1/1 | alex | M  
Title: Sangria
Author: lamaitresse
Part: 1/1
Fandom: Degrassi: The Next Generation
Summary: A romantic evening is interrupted by an unexpected phone call.
Disclaimer: I own nothing associated with the Degrassi franchise
Rating: M


She’s really gone all out, I’m impressed. There’re candles flickering all around her dorm room, soft music playing from her iPod dock, a bottle of Boone’s Sangria on ice on her bedside table. Sangria, because she knows it’s the closest thing to wine I’ll ever drink. More impressive yet is the single wine glass next to the bucket of ice. Anyone else might think there’s going to be some kind of romantic glass sharing going on later tonight, but I know better than that. The glass is for her and her alone. I smile when I realise she’s got me all figured out; that despite my new and greatly improved sense of style, some habits will never be broken. Drinking straight from the bottle is one of them.

She’s taken my backpack and my jacket from me and tossed them into her closet, and now she’s smiling at me as I look around in awe at her dorm. It’s the first time I’ve been here and she’s probably thinking I’m touched by her decorating efforts. Don’t get me wrong, I am. I just had no idea cheap accommodations could look this, well, nice. Hell, I might just have to go to uni next year after all, especially if it means nicer digs than the shithole I currently call home.

“You like?” she asks me sweetly as she wraps her arms around me from behind. She plants a soft kiss on the nape of my neck and I shiver ever so slightly.

“I do,” I reply, turning in her arms to face her. I smile up at her before leaning in for a kiss.

Still kissing, we walk slowly and clumsily towards her bed and sit on the edge. She reaches over and pours herself some of the Sangria before handing me the bottle.

“You know me too well,” I grin before taking several swigs. She takes the bottle from me and puts it back on the bedside table, then pulls me towards her, capturing my lips with hers. She tastes sweet, like the Sangria, and I can’t get enough of her. Before I know it, my hands are wandering and tugging her shirt over her head.

It isn’t much longer before most of our clothes end up on the floor. My skin is humming and I’m craving her touch. Fuck, I’ve missed feeling this way. Her hand creeps up my abdomen and settles on my breast, and I moan softly when she rolls my nipple between her fingers. But I need more of her than that.

I reach around, quickly unsnap her bra, and toss it away. She giggles slightly at my forwardness when I push her back on the bed and take one of her breasts in my mouth. I flicker my tongue over the hardening nub and smile inwardly at her reaction. My free hand travels downwards and I rest it on her mound, just at the hem of her thong. I look up and see her silently begging me to finish what I’m about to start.

Never one to disappoint my girl, I dip two of my fingers behind the elastic of her panties and draw lazy circles around her clit. The sharp breaths she takes just encourage me further. I lean up and kiss her softly, continuing to tease her down below.

I’m kissing down her abdomen, going in for my ultimate move, when I become vaguely aware of Mariah Carey singing ‘We Belong Together’ from wherever my jeans happened to settle earlier in the evening. All my friends have individual ringtones so I can decide if I even want to answer the call without rooting through my purse to find the damn phone. It’s got to have been a while since whoever this is has called me, because I can’t for the life of me remember even downloading that ringtone. I fucking hate Mariah Carey.

I go back to the task at hand, but I’m clearly distracted. The caller left a voicemail and now my phone won’t stop beeping to tell me it’s waiting there. And there’s nothing I hate more than annoying beeping sounds. It’s for that exact reason I don’t have call-waiting.

I sit up and throw an apologetic look towards my girl. “Do you mind if I get that?”

She looks at me, exasperated. “Fine,” she nods her head and lays back down on the bed.

I root around the piles of clothes until I find my jeans and pull the offending phone out of the back pocket. Without checking the missed call log, I immediately press the voicemail button and punch in my password. I’m not prepared for what I’m about to hear. Once the message is over, I quickly flip the phone closed. I probably look like I’ve seen a ghost.

“Who was that?”

“Oh, um...” I stutter, still somewhat surprised. “Just a, um, just a friend. No one you’ve met before. Inviting us to Thanksgiving dinner next weekend.”

“Oh,” she smiles at me. “That’ll be nice.”

“Yeah, nice,” I nod awkwardly, climbing back into bed.

“Now where were we...?” she giggles and pushes me down, apparently forgetting I’d left her high and dry just a few moments before.

I lay back, doing my best to stay interested. I’m here with Carla, I should be focused on her. But no, all I can think about now is Paige.

Well shit.


Reply | Get This

 
 
 
Laurenchickwith_stick on July 30th, 2007 06:20 am (UTC)
Awesome!
fix me, motherfucker! i'm standing right here.: The Only Honest Lovesongimmortality on August 3rd, 2007 02:52 am (UTC)
Oh, this was too good! <3