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Yearning for Our Unicity	By : LuluDreams Category: S through Z > YOU Views: 64 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: all characters belong just and only to the marvelous Caroline Kepnes, Netflix etc, I just own my sick ideas, lol

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Summary:
When the author doesn’t exactly know what to do with two prompts and she turns them into the tropes the characters will use to write their own stories, LOL!
Notes:
Setting: between the end of 5x8 and first half of 5x9
I suppose that Bronte’s ankle took some days/weeks to improve, so this happens in that gap of time (when they were sooo happy together *sighs*)

Prompts: Blizzard AND Heatwave

WARNING: this is HOT, there's a lot of smut, so maybe it's not the most suitable thing to read if the temperature is high... don't say I didn't warn you! :P

Trope

Bronte’s POV

“Here we go, there’s ice cream, chocolate bars, popcorn and a bag of chips.” I say, putting all the yummy stuff on the trunk, beside the bed.

“That’s weird, last time I checked we weren’t throwing a kids party!” You mutter from the desk.

“Do you have any idea how many calories it takes to write? We need some fuel!”

“All I know is that it might take a while, so you’d better put the ice cream back in the freezer.” You suggest.

“Wise idea.” I comply.

“So, Joe, how does it work? Do we give us a deadline, I don’t know, a couple of hours to do this?” I sit on the bed and grab my laptop, ready to start.

“No, please, don’t make it sound like a class assignment, and I know what I’m talking about, I’ve been a professor!” You strike back, inserting the sheet into your typewriter. “You know what? If you like the thrill, here’s something very chilling: the one who finishes first also makes the other stop.”

“Oh my god, this is super cruel!” I protest.

“It’s not fun if it’s not cruel.” You shrug.

“Okay, let’s do it this way, but first…” I get off the bed and walk towards you. “Are you sure you don’t wanna reach me on the bed?”

“I’m tempted by the offer, very, but this baby is heavier than she looks!” You chuckle, patting your typewriter.

“I guessed so.” I pout, as I caress your chest, trapped in that way too buttoned up olive-green shirt “Well, I’m going to miss you so much; but maybe it’s better this way.”

“Is it?” You lift your head, looking at me.

“Yeah, at least it means no distractions!” I chuckle, kissing you and then I go back to the bed, not before grabbing a chocolate bar.

I unwrap it, l slowly trace all its length with my fingers and finally I take a bite.

“Am I wrong or have we said no distractions?”

“What? I’m just eating!” I shrug with innocence, licking my fingers that are stained with chocolate.

You rush upon me.

“Then don’t do it in such a sexy way!” You growl, before kissing me ravagely.

Chocolate always works!

We share the bar between kisses, best combo ever.

“Ok, now I guess we can start.”

As I stare at the white page on my laptop there’s a question that’s gnawing at me.

I really have to know.

“Not yet, Joe.” I hold you by the thigh.

“What’s wrong, Bronte?”

I bit my lower lip, nervously.

“This thing we are about to do… have you already done it with someone else?”

“Uhmm, let’s see: a chef, an illustrator and an art dealer who became a CEO three years ago… it’s not that they were dying to write!” You giggle.

It’s time to use my warning tone and glare.

“Joe…”

“Oh, you mean Beck. Well, she had an immense talent, but she was such a procrastinator! She barely finished her assignments, let alone making some playful writing challenge with her. But once we challenged each other to read the same book as quickly as possible, and I won, of course, even if she had tried to cheat!” You brag.

“Cool! Can we also do something like this?”

You smile at me, holding my hand.

“Of course, my love, we can do tons of things together…”

One second later I’m laying down giggling madly, as you are tickling the hell out of me.

“But if you don’t quit the hell with the distractions I swear I’m gonna lock you inside the cage to keep you focused.”

You made your point, as you head back to the desk.

So our challenge starts for real.
It takes me less than ten seconds to choose the trope, I guess I’ll have a lot of fun with that.
I can see everything so clearly in my mind.
I start writing frantically, as you are also doing.
Between my laptop and your typewriter there’s a lovely clattering sound echoing through the room.

I don’t even know what time it is, I don’t even feel the need to check, I’m too involved in what I’m creating.
I’m about to reach the hottest moment, in every sense, and…

“I am done.”

The three words I feared the most tonight.
Coming from you.

“Right now I hate you more than I love you!” I snort, making you laugh.

“Shut up and print your work. It’s you who made the rules.” You draw the sheets out of the typewriter, you fold them and hand them to me.

And you’re right.
I challenged you into writing some smutty story with our alter egos; as long as we write that at the very same time.
Each of us could choose the trope they prefer.
Once the first one is ready, we have to exchange our plays.
We don’t read them to each other, we can only give short summaries.

“So, tell me about yours.” I urge you, taking your folded papers and giving you mine.

“Ezra knows how Ella loves mountains, especially in winter; so he wants to surprise her and take her there; but the fog misleads them to the wrong path. And there’s a strong blizzard. The car battery soon abandons them, which means goodbye to the car's heat. It’s getting freezing cold and they must find a way to keep warm and survive.”

“Ohhh, sounds so cool, in every sense of the word.” I giggle.

“Ezra holds Ella tight in his arms, but it’s not enough. They kiss as if it was the last time they can do it and this helps a little more, but they need more. Suddenly they don’t find anymore their heavy coats and sweaters so warming as it could be their bared skin rubbing against each other and…well, just read the rest.”

“But, wait, vampires have cold blood, there’s no way Ezra could keep Ella warm…”

“Don’t worry, I also used the alternative universe trope, everyone is human here.” You justify, taking a fistful of popcorn. “It’s not against the rules, right?”

“Of course it’s not, quite the contrary, I used that too for my work.”

“So, no more Huntress and Magician?” You ask me intrigued, enjoying the popcorn.

“Now they’re the Schoolgirl and the Librarian.”

“Oh, what an exuberant imagination!” You tease me.

“Hey!” I throw popcorn at you. “At least, listen to the story.”

“Please, go on…”

“The Schoolgirl loves the library, her favourite place to study. But that morning there’s something different. Where has the old, grey-haired, bent Mr. Suney go?”

“Mr. Suney. Really?” You repeat, amused.

“Well, blame my exuberant imagination for that. Anyway, that day there’s this new Librarian: young, tall, handsome. The Schoolgirl is having trouble staying focused on Hegel’s idealism.. and she never takes her eyes off a philosophy book. And she hasn’t imagined it, the newly hired Librarian is glancing at her as well. It’s an abnormal July in New York, much hotter than usual. And, well, as luck or bad luck would have it, the air conditioner breaks down. It’s just so hot, the Schoolgirl uses the book to fan herself, but it’s not enough. The Librarian starts to take off his jacket, since it’s too hot to keep it and the Schoolgirl likes the toned arms she sees. She just wonders if she would like even his bare chest, as she takes off her jacket, too and the Librarian walks closer to her…”

“And?” You ask me, eager.

“And then someone shouted: “I am done!”” I blame you. “That’s all you get. Unless…”

I have an idea.

“Well, contrary to your trope, mine is pretty easy to recreate.”

Saying so, I walk towards the thermostat, press some buttons and the temperature jumps ten degrees.

Wearing my cardigan is not an option anymore.

“Don’t you think it’s too hot in here to keep that shirt and those trousers?” I reach you, helping you to take them off.

“You’re crazy.” You chuckle. “In the best sense ever!” You take off my tanktop, before kissing me.

As the kiss goes on, your arms go lower, underneath my skirt.

You tear off my panties and your fingers perfectly know what to do.

“Oh god, Joe!” I moan against your lips.

I decide to follow your example and my hand sneaks under your boxers and it doesn’t take too long to figure out how much you’re liking it.

Probably not even Hell is hot as this room right now.

All it takes is a mutual look for us to take off even the last pieces of fabric we still were.

You lift me up and go to the desk, laying down on it, me on top of you.

Our sweaty, hot, eager bodies become the perfect fit.

We lock eyes to each other the whole time, our mouths slightly open as we both enjoy the moment.

The typewriter is just a few inches from me, so every now and then as I’m busy riding you my fingers happen to touch some keys, also thanks to your pushes that progressively increase their intensity.

“I guess you just typed the most erotic thing ever!” You make me giggle and I lower myself towards you to shut you up with a long, passionate, hot kiss.

“What are you thinking about?” You ask me, as we recover from the umpteenth devastating orgasm.

“I’m thinking that I’ve never been happier to have some ice cream in the freezer!” I make you laugh.

And by the lustful way you’re looking at me I figure out the kinky minds think alike.

“Don’t move. Be right back.” I part from you.

“Do you really want me to remain like this all the time on the desk?” You groan.

“Uh okay, sure, you’re allowed to move to the more comfortable bed, but then just wait for me.” I rectify as I turn the thermostat back to a normal temperature, because we surely don’t need any more heat than this.

It’s such a relief to open the freezer and feel the pleasant freshness, as I take the tub of icecream: triple chocolate and stracciatella.

I also take two spoons from the drawer and go back to you.

“I’ve never seen something more yummy … and look, there’s also the ice cream!” You murmur, as you lick your upper lip.

And geez, the way your eyes are devouring me…
You make me blush.

In the rush to go to the kitchen I forgot that I’m utterly naked.
Just like you.

I try to cover my body with the sheets, but you’re faster than me and throw me on the mattress.

“Don’t you dare deprive me of such a show!” You growl, on top of me, kissing me.

You roll on the other side, but only to open the tub of ice cream.

You chose the stracciatella, taking a spoonful and placing it on my nipples that instantly become as hard as stone.

And your skillful tongue works its magic as you lick it away.
I have to bite the pillow so I won't scream.

You smear the heavenly cold ice cream on my hot abs and belly.

The chocolate chips are gently scratching my skin, like the sexiest scrub ever.

When you finish cleaning me in the hottest way possible, I stare at you with a lot of expectations.

“Oooohh, I know what you want, but that’s not gonna happen, if you don’t take good care of me before.” You pass me the tub, laying down on the mattress in total surrender, your arms above your head.

You’re such a vision.

I use stracciatella, too, to cover your neck and I start licking, nibbling at it my way; I smear your face, the tip of your nose, and then your lips, which lead us to a long, long sweet kiss, in every sense.

Then I choose triple chocolate for my next step.

The way you moan and arch your back as soon as the ice cream lands on the tip of your already more than standing cock is something that will always haunt my kinkiest dreams.
Not to mention when I refresh your nuts, too.

“Pleeeease, Bronte, pleease, Louise, pleeeease…”

You don’t need to beg me anymore, as I perfectly know what to do, how to make you feel extremely good.

You don’t even take the time to relax a bit after the orgasm, you take a generous amount of triple chocolate, place it on your left hand and shove it directly between my parted thighs.
I scream, both for the coolness and the surprise.

“Oh, god, Joe!”

And when you dive your head between my legs with such a determination you send me over the moon and I’m not even so sure if I want to come back.

And then we both pant, laying close to each other on such a messy bed that surely needs a new set of sheets, more or less like we need a shower; but we couldn’t be happier and more in love than this.

You turn towards me, smirking.

“I guess we have found the mutual trope for the next sexy writing challenge: food porn!”
--
THE END
Notes:
About the reading book challenge with Beck, I can’t recall if it happens in the show, too (I need a rewatch of earlier seasons ) , but it’s in the first book ;)
So, what of the two smutty stories did you prefer? Joe’s or Bronte’s?
Of course, I’m not such a good writer as they are, that’s why I just made them do a small recap of what they actually wrote ;P
Hope you had fun reading, those two surely had, LOL
Every little sign of appreciation can make my day/week/month, but thanks anyway for reading!
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Yearning for Our Unicity

Summary:

Notes:

Notes: