More Than Friends

A note to the observant: Almost all city names are false; they were taken from a variety of fantasy sources. All characters are based on real people, so it is no coincidence that they are the strongest part of the story. Names, and sometimes personality and personal history, have been modified to protect the innocent. The events of this story, however, are complete fiction.

Quote attribution: Colin's description of love is a paraphrase of Orson Scott Card's description from Children Of The Mind

(used without permission):

"This emotion I'm feeling now, this is love, right?"

"I don't know. Is it a longing? Is it a giddy stupid happiness just because you're with me?"

"Yes," she said.

"That's influenza," said Miro. "Watch for nausea or diarrhea within a few hours."

Also see Card'sXenocide

for the philosophical argument about why we have to believe in free will.

*       *       *

He awoke during the night, for no particular reason he could understand. He found himself lying on his side on one side of the bed, which was slightly uncomfortable as well as out of the ordinary. The bed was narrow and meant only to accomodate one person, and he preferred sleeping in the center, on his back. What was he doing here?

Then he noticed the armful of Heather lying next to him, and memory and understanding returned in a rush.

He had never seen her sleep before. She was lying on her back, her head tilted towards his, her mouth gently open in slumber. She was not drooling, which he was thankful for. Sure, he had lapped up her pussy juices and been fine with it, but spilled cunt nectar didn't smell half as bad as saliva. The covers hid most of her body from him, but his arm lay across her torso and he could feel the swells of her breasts.

She was beautiful. She had always been beautiful, with her long golden hair and blue eyes and that shining, brilliant smile, like sunlight bursting through clouds. But here, in his arms, in his bed, vulnerable and confident in his protection... He thought he was going to melt with tenderness.

He kissed her cheek, and a faint smile fluttered across her face, as though she knew he was there.

He reshuffled himself on the bed and went back to sleep, his arm draped across her chest.

*       *       *

She awoke during the night for no particular reason she could understand. Her eyes showed her an unfamiliar ceiling--dark slanted slats of wood, colored a lurid orange from streetlights outside the window. Where was she?

Then she heard the Colin's breathing next to her, and she understood what was going on.

She smiled to herself, remembering their antics earlier in the night. Colin, sweet and considerate at all times, her best friend--so earnest, so gentle. Over and over he had shown her the ways he cared for her; over and over her heart melted with love for him.

He lay on his side, his arm covering her protectively. The bedsheets restricted her vision, but what she saw of his face was enough. It was calm, smooth, free of the worry that sometimes plagued it. With his face in repose it seemed to smile, like a man who was contented.

She rolled up on one side and kissed him on the lips, and she swore his smile widened for a moment.

She stretched out her body, sidling a little closer to him, and dropped off to sleep again, feeling safe and protected and content in the circle of his arms.

*       *       *

The next time they awoke, there was sunlight. Heather stretched luxuriantly, letting a happy sigh escape her lips. Her body felt more satisfied than it had in a long time. Colin stirred next to her. "Good morning, sleepy-head," she said cheerfully.

"Good morning yourself," he said, smiling. "What time is it?"

"It's only like seven," she said. She grinned. "I don't think I've ever woken this early on a Saturday."

He moved in to kiss her, and she slid toward him. As he did, something poked at her pelvis, then slid between her legs. "Whoa," she said, grinning, "

someone's

happy to see me."

"Err," he said, "actually, that's just 'cause I haven't gone pee since dinner."

She gave him a fond, annoyed glance.

"What? Having a full bladder does

not

help with endurance." He stuck his tongue out at her.

She kissed it. "You know, you have a point."

He gave her his robe, midnight blue and trailing to her ankles; he strapped on a pair of sweat pants. When he started putting on a shirt, she said, "You know, you don't really need that. Guys go shirtless all the time."

"Not me," he said, stopping with the shirt partially over his arms. He had broader shoulders than she had expected; the shirts he wore tended to emphasize his height, not his girth.

She smiled. "Well, think of it as something new. Besides, I don't think anyone will laugh if you aren't, you know, developed enough for them. Since they're probably all asleep." She ran her hands over his chest. "You certainly won't hear anything from

me

."

He shrugged and tossed the shirt back in the drawer.

"So, this is a boys's bathroom," Heather said.

He nodded. "Might be wise to be a little quiet. At the beginning of the year they told us that it's actually against state law for you to be in here."

She giggled. "Ooh, danger." As far as she could tell it wasn't too different than any other bathroom. There were no urinals, but then, this was a dorm; the bathrooms were probably identical. She opened one of the three toilet stalls. "Eew, somebody puked in here."

"Well, there's two other stalls," he said.

The other two were, thankfully, clean, and they completed their toiletries without further incident. He thought that some girls might have made a larger production of it--flirting with him, teasing him, making a lot of noise to bring suspicious RAs down on them--and was glad that Heather didn't do it. Colin could joke and banter with the best of them, but at heart he was a serious individual, not prone to making mistakes or taking risks, especially considering that his luck was consistantly atrocious.

Well

, he thought, glancing over at the beautiful woman washing her hands in the sink next to his.

Maybe it's turned. But I'd still rather not test it.

"So," he asked, back in their room. "What are we going to do today?"

She giggled. "Shouldn't the question be,

Who

are we going to do today?"

"What, you wanna spend the whole day in bed," he asked?

"What, you don't?" she returned, and with a truly wicked grin she tossed off the robe, letting her naked body flash in the sunlight.

He was there instantly, his chest against hers, his lips on hers. She felt her desire stir beneath her and pressed herself closer to him.

"Well," he said. "You know I love you. And you know I love... This." He ran his hands over her body, hips to breasts and back again. "But at the same time, you know..." He grinned, startlingly young despite those ancient eyes. "I'm nineteen, I'm in love with a beautiful girl. I feel good. I feel confident. I wanna get out and do something."

"What, like climb a mountain?" she asked mischievously.

"Well," he said. "Maybe not

that

ambitious. But... You know? Maybe things will go my way for once." His smile softened. "Yes, Heather, I do want to make love with you again. Maybe even a lot. But let's not cage ourselves in here, you know? There's a whole wide world out there, and it's there for

us

."

She smiled. "And I can't think of anyone I'd rather see it with than you."

Her arms twined around his neck, his around her waist. Their lips met, tasting each other, gentle and unhurried. She felt his breath drifting across her face, the strength of his chest against her; one of his hand caressed her back, the other cupped one of her ass cheeks, stroking and squeezing, sliding up and down her hip. His touch left fire on her skin wherever it went. She could feel herself getting wet. His semi-hard cock began to bump at her from below.

"Tomorrow," she murmured through his lips as he kissed her. "Tomorrow, we'll (mmf) we'll make love when we wake up. No bathroom. Or maybe we'll go during (mmm) the night. And tomorrow we'll wake up and just make love, no moving or anything."

"I guess you'd better call your mother again," he said dryly, "see if you can get--" and she got her revenge by smooching him soundly half-way through the sentence.

She took her hands from his neck, stepped back a bit, and slid his pants down his legs. She ended up kneeling, pulling his pants away as he stepped out of them, and when she looked up she was right on the level with his cock. Grinning up at him, she latched onto it with her mouth and sucked.

Colin groaned.

She wrapped one hand around his shaft and stroked firmly, tonguing his head as she did; her other hand fondled his balls, stroking his soft, delicate skin. Every now and then she changed her oral technique from a direct stroking of his cockhead to a more up-and-down motion, supplementing the movement of her hand. He moaned and whispered. His hands tangled in her hair, pushing her toward his crotch, wanting more. Every time he looked down, her blue eyes met his gaze, watching him earnestly.

"Tell me when," she said.

"Not long at this rate. Oh, God, Heather, you really--!"

He cut off again as she clamped onto his dick. This time she took him as deep into her throat as she could, stroking the underside with her tongue, moving her head back and forth and letting the top of his cockhead rub across the roof of her mouth, her hands moving at top speed across his shaft and balls. She knew he was close, not just from his words but from the temp of his breath, the insistence of his hands, and she wanted his cum in his mouth.

What she wanted came to pass. His groans reached a crescendo, and she felt him tense, his hips coming forward of their own accord. She pulled back a little, letting some of his shaft fall out of her mouth. Her eyes, still fastened to his face, saw his eyes close, his brow clench. Then the first splash of his semen hit the back of her throat, and for a short time she was busy swallowing as his breath faded and her tongue lashed at his cock and his knees threatened to give way under the barrage of pleasure.

When he opened his eyes again, she was smiling at him. Some of his cum had dribbled out the side of her mouth, and without looking away from him she licked it up.

He reached down, drawing her up to stand beside him, and then enfolded her in a long, wordless hug, telling her in the best way he could how happy he was to have her.

"You're really good at that," he said when he let go.

She blushed and smiled, like a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar: embarrassed, but not really ashamed.

"Dare I ask where you learned it," he said, a mischievous smile hovering about his lips.

She giggled. "The same place you learned how to do me so well. The Internet. I haven't done that on a whole lot of guys. I know..." She hesitated, her smile fading. "I know I'm pretty, and I bet there are tons of rumors about how many guys I've slept with. Or given blowjobs to."

He kissed her on the lips. "I don't believe them for a second."

"I know, but... I know they go around a lot. Especially because of my looks And it's not... Well, I mean, it's worse in some ways, because I

do

like going down on guys. Especially you, but that's because I love you. But... When you care for someone, it's..." Searching for words. "...It's really satisfying to be able to make them happy that way, you know? But I don't go down on guys unless they're really important to me." She made an unhappy face. "God knows enough of them had wanted me to."

"No, I understand," he said. He did, too. At least the part about wanting to make someone happy when you loved them. Seeing her buck and moan as he ate her out was one of the most... Gratifying things he had ever experienced.

"But, because it's such a... Well, intimate thing to do," she said, "that means I do it with even

less

guys. You know? It's not just something to toss off on anybody."

He nodded. "I understand."

"I know you do," she said. "I just... Didn't want you to think I was that kind of girl."

He understood that the person she was really trying to convince was not him, but herself. So he said, "Heather, I know you're not that kind of girl. I know what kind of girl you are. You're beautiful, yes, and I know there are a lot of people who would want to get into your pants just because of that. But you're also intelligent, and smart, and brave, and compassionate, and strong-- You hold to your morals too, the ones that are important to you. And that's what I respect about you, and that's what I love about you. The fact that you're really hot is just an added bonus. That's not what's really important."

She beamed at him, like sunlight warming his skin. "I'm glad you understand."

They embraced again, and she said, "We keep getting derailed with all this talking. We gotta learn to stay focused."

"Well," he quipped, "one could say we were perfecting our talents at

oral

sex."

She smiled and stuck her tongue out at him. "That's not funny."

"Well," he said, relenting. He smiled, and the planes of his serious face opened to the light. "What can I say? When you're with me, everything is bright. I feel like I could fly to the moon. I don't care about anything. I'm just happy you're here."

"Don't care about anything," she said. Her hand snaked between his legs and stroked lightly over his cock. "Not even sex?"

"We-ell," he said, making a show of considering the idea.

This was an old game they played. Colin, the eternal outsider, always looked for ways to contribute to conversations, and more often than not, he ended up playing the Devil's Advocate, taking the opposite attitude to the majority. He was flexible enough to take any side of an argument he wanted; the choosing was subconscious. Heather had been the first to identify his habit; Adam had never seen it, nor had Colin himself. Sometimes, she reflected, it made it hard to predict what he really wanted, because he was very good at submerging his own desires for the sake of others, or masking them off so that they were not expressed.

"Colin," she said. "Honestly. What do you want?"

He was silent for a moment, and the humor fell from his face. When he answered, his expression was open, unashamed. "What do I want? I want to be with you, Heather. I wanna be near you, I want to hold you, I want to kiss you, I want to see you smile, I want to see your face when you sleep at night. And when you wake up in the morning, too, so I can tell you how beautiful you are. And yes, I want to make love to you, but that's not important, we have time for that. I just want to be with you. After that..." He shrugged. "Anything goes. I'm game."

She was touched. How many people could say that and mean it? "Well," she said. "I want to be with you too. As close as I can. As close as it's possible to be." And before he could answer, before he could protest, she leaned in and kissed him, kissed him like she meant it, because she

did

mean it, and he should see that she was serious.

She wasn't sure how much time passed, or they reached the bed, but suddenly it was beneath her, and she was on her back, sideways across the bed, and he kneeled on the floor next to her, kissing her thighs. She spread her legs and let her feminine flower blossom before him, enviting him in with its weeping depths. She was already wet, and she knew he could see her outer lips just barely parted, revealing her inner treasures.

Without hesitation he bent down to her slit and began to lick up and down it, and she felt the glorious sensations of his tongue against her flesh and her clit, now beginning to peek from her hiding place, wanting her share of the attention. Heather leaned back, opening her legs wider, her hands resting on his shoulders as he bent to her ministrations.

He was teasing her, she could tell: he licked everywhere but that little nubbin that so desired his touch. He coated every inch of her outer lips with his kisses and the passing of his tongue; he explored every crevice of her inner lips, smothering them with kisses; he even tongued around the inside of her pussy, as best he could--a maneuver that brought her intense admiration, judging from the way she pushed his head closer as she gasped and moaned and sighed, her hips rising up against him. And yet still he denied her the seat of her passions. Until finally, after minutes or hours, she knew not, his tongue disengaged from the entrance of her pussy and began to travel upward.

His first pass was swift, delicate, and she jumped with the tickling contact. The next was a firmer, more consistent swipe with his tongue, and her hips relaxed as she groaned. Then they came up again as his tongue began slow, deliberate zig-zag patterns across and around and over her nubbin, her clit, that aching thing that begged for his touch. She wondered where he had gotten so good at this; surely the Internet couldn't cover it.

Then he latched onto her clit and sucked, and she spiralled over the edge. Her hips came up, her hands pushed him into her crotch, her nerves hummed, and her pussy contracted, shouting out its joy as orgasm crashed over her.

As she came down, she felt his finger slide inside her for the first time, and realized he did not intend to stop. She felt a moment's panic--Two? In a row? How would she handle it?--but it was all swept away by the tide of pleasure that rose within her, regaining strength even as it ebbed. His tongue flicked over her clitoris again and again; she felt his finger joined by a second, making shallow thrusting motions into her pussy.

She found her breath from somewhere. "Colin-- I changed my mind. You don't have to-- You don't owe me anything. Not orgasms, not--"

She looked into his eyes and saw he didn't care. She was going over this cliff whether she wanted it or not.

"Tell me when you're almost there," he said, and she nodded.

Surprisingly, his lips wrapped around her clit now, even though the high tide was still far away. She jolted, gasped, bucked up to meet him, as he applied firm suction, his tongue flitting out over her nub like the wings of a butterfly, his fingers moving firmly within her. She knew this wasn't going to last long. He was right--it did normally take her longer to crest. She was strangely oversensitive in his arms.

"Colin," she gasped. "Almost there."

He disappointed and completely flustered her by stopping right then and there. She was about to yell when his head came up to her field of vision again. "Lie down," he said, and she understood.

She swivelled, trying to move as fast as possible, and he moved to cover her. Without waiting for his instructions, she seized his cock and guided it towards her pussy, spreading her legs wide.

In one motion, his shaft sunk within her, and for a moment their eyes bulged wide in renewed wonder at the pleasure of their joining.

She wrapped her legs around his waist, pressing her hips to him. She felt his pubic hair against the tender flesh outside her pussy; she felt the rhythmic beat of his heart; she felt his breath against her neck. She wanted him.

"Move up," she said. "That way you'll get my clit when you move."

He did, scrambling to reposition himself while staying deep inside of her. She recognized that, with him lying atop her, his control and articulation would not be as great as if, say, he were seated between her legs in one of those positions she saw so often in pornography. This might not work. She didn't care. She wanted his closeness, his breath, his heartbeat. She wanted

him

.