This is my Christmas present to u. Enjoy xoxo

It was surprisingly easy to sneak Wren into my room, considering there wasn't a guard in the hall when we returned to the hallway, popcorn, and bowls in our arms.

We spent the night watching movies, talking with lazy kisses in between. The more time I spend with him, the more I realise how ridiculous it was to let myself freeze up in that situation with Cora. That will not happen again, simply because I don't want it to.

The morning light slithers through the barred window and I yawn, rubbing my eyes sleepily. Wren is squished in beside me, breathing softly, his head buried into my shoulder. Considering how hard the mattress is and little space there is, I slept deep, dreamless, and calm.

I study his face. Long lashes, light freckles, lips slightly parted, dark hair spilling across his forehead. He is beautiful.

Reaching out, I stroke my fingers into his hair. He makes a quiet sound in the back of his throat, pushing his head into my hand. I smile, applying pressure to my fingers, pushing deeper into his scalp.

"I could get used to this," he mumbles.

"Me too."

"Come here," he drawls, wrapping his arm around my waist and dragging me closer until I'm underneath him. I try not to breathe; in case I have morning breath. He kisses the side of my head, his hand exploring my torso. His hand cups my breast and his thumb slides over it. I inhale sharply at the feel of it.

I arch my back, pushing myself into his hand. He kisses the corner of my mouth before getting to my lips. It's a deep, warm kiss, and I forget about all my insecurities. His hand gently palms me, before inching down my side.

His fingers play delicately on the line between my skin and underwear when the door to my room bursts open. Constance strides in, her hair a wild afro, sunglasses plunged into them.

"Ahh!" Her startled scream echoes around the room, filling my head.

Wren groans, rolling off of me and glaring up at the ceiling.

"When the hell did this start?" Constance explodes, hands on her hips, wide eyes darting from him to me.

I sigh, laying on my back.

There goes our romantic weekend.

***

Constance and Harlow are fighting in my room, and there's a party underway in Wren's, so we spend the afternoon in the rec room, playing ping pong, chess, and cards. I try not to be annoyed at Constance for coming back early–something to do with a fight with her mum–but I can't help feeling disappointed.

Considering everyone is away for the weekend, or at the party, the place is deserted and we have free rein of the T.V. I'm sprawled across Wren's lap, his fingers massaging my head. I doze in and out of sleep through the movie, feeling by far the most relaxed I have since I've been here.

"Come to my place next weekend," he says.

"Is that allowed?"

"Can you go to your foster parents' place, but come stay with me?" he suggests, peering down at me.

"I can try," I say. "I'll see if Harold can come see me through the week, I'll ask him."

"Sounds good. I need to get out of this place. Can't stand it."

"Me either," I sigh. "Having you here for the weekend has made such a difference, honestly."

"I'm glad."

"Never leave me again," I playfully whine, tilting so I'm gazing into his eyes.

"I'll just take you with me. Pack you up in my bag, swing you over my shoulder..." he trails off with a grin.

"As long as you leave me a bottle of water, I'll be fine," I laugh.

I realise we've stopped speaking. We're staring at each other. Wren's thumb strokes the slither of skin where my shirt has risen. I swallow, my breathing deepening.

Every time I look at him, I want him to kiss me. I wish we could kiss all day, every day.

I try to force myself to move away, to break our eye contact, stop the tension building, but I can't.

"Touch me," I whisper.

He obliges, his hand moving further down. I close my eyes. We shouldn't be doing this. Anyone could walk in, but I don't want him to stop. Heat flares under my skin and I push myself closer to him.

"Kiss me."

His mouth covers mine. His hand moves again, sliding up my side, gripping my shirt in his fingers. Every skin on skin contact has my heart dropping, making me feel giddy and nervous.

"We shouldn't," he whispers.

"We should."

I feel him grin. "You're bad."

"You're worse."

"How?" he whispers.

"You're going along with it," I whisper back.

"How could I not?" he says between kisses.

I slide my hand underneath his shirt, feeling his hard muscles.

"I want more."

"More?" he murmurs, smirking. "Like what?"

"More, more, more," I moan, pressing closer.

"When?"

"Nowwww," I'm whining, like a child, and probably sound ridiculous, but I don't care.

He makes a sound in his throat. "Christ. You're killing me."

I move my lips to his neck. "Now?"

"Oh, fuck," he groans. "Okay. Shit. Where?" He's half-moaning, half-laughing.

"My room."

I force myself to stand. Detangling from him has my body aching.

"Give me a minute," he awkwardly adjusts his pants and tries to calm his breathing. I look down at him. He groans again. "You're going to have to turn away. I can't relax with you standing there." I turn my back to him and he groans louder. "Damn it. That's worse."

I'm laughing now. I pull him to his feet. He adjusts his pants again before we hastily exit. When we arrive at my room, I whimper in relief to see it empty. We slam the door shut and Wren drags my drawers across, placing it in front of the door, considering it doesn't lock.

I giggle. "She is going to be so pissed if she tries to come in and it's locked."

Wren shrugs. "She'll be at the party."

He strides over to me and lifts my shirt over my head. I reach around and unclip my bra. He inhales as he stares at me. His eyes lift, for a moment, seeking permission. I nod. He reaches out and touches me. I sigh softly at the feel of his warm hands on me.

"Perfect," he breathes.

I flush so deeply, even my chest turns red. His fingertips touch my scars and goosebumps erupt across my skin. I don't recoil, I don't flinch. I watch his fingers trail over them.

He lightly pushes me against my bed, and I fall onto it. He kisses me openly and deep, pressing his full weight onto me. His left hand is fondling my breasts, the feeling of it intimate and tender.

"Are you sure?" he whispers against my skin.

"I want this so badly, it hurts."

"Why?" he whispers, smiling. "Tell me."

"Because you're hot as fuck."

He laughs, and it's a magical sound. "And?"

"And I'm obsessed with you," I tell him.

"And?"

"And I've never wanted this with anyone before, never thought I could, after..." I trail off. "But I want everything with you, Wren."

He sits back a little, then. I pull at his shirt, yanking it over his head.

"I have one condition, Addison."

My eyes dart to his face at the sound of my name coming from his lips.

"What's that?"

We're both breathing hard already. I'm staring at his chest. His stomach. I run my hands over them.

"I want to be with you."

"With me?"

"I want to date you," he whispers.

"Really?" I bite my lip and his eyes drop to it for a moment.

"I know you said there's that confusion with Cora, and that issue isn't resolved, but right now, all I want is you. Will you be my girlfriend?"

God, he is adorable. Stunning eyes, dark hair, red lips, smile lines.

I'm beaming up at him. "Yes. I'd love to be your girlfriend."

This time when we kiss again, I know there will be no stopping. His mouth moves down my chest, taking one of my breasts between his lips, his tongue lapping over my nipple. I struggle to draw breath as I lay underneath him, arching my back. His other hand expertly flicks at the button of my shorts and slides them down my thighs. I'm thankful I wore my lacy white underwear today. His finger draws a pattern between my legs and I widen the distance, pushing myself into him. With one finger, he hoists them down my legs and I kick them off, eager to keep going.

He plunges his finger into me, and I cry out. A second finger slides in, moving quickly and hard. I'm whimpering at the feel of it.

I blindly reach for him, swiping at his pants. He helps me remove them and I feel heat inside me. His fingers are back, moving rapidly.

"You," I beg hoarsely. "I need you."

He presses into me and my heart spikes with anticipation. He slides inside, filling me. I sigh, hooking my arms around his neck. He waits a moment, letting me adjust.

I cry out again, digging my nails into his back.

The first time this happened, it was horrific, painful, and I wanted to die. There has been one or two times since, and it was not as traumatic, but not enjoyable, either. But this. I've never made love before. And this was something else entirely.

"Wren."

He shudders as I say his name, and I lift my hips to meet his thrusts. Suddenly, an alarm blares overhead.

"No," I whimper, shaking my head, my hair sticking to me. "Keep going."

"Keep going?" he echoes with a grin. "You sure?"

"Yessss," I groan.

I'm covered in sweat. His and mine. He continues to pump into me and I close my eyes, hugging him to me. Our skin slips against each other and the alarm grows louder. An obnoxious banging on the door fills the room, a guard yelling at us to vacate, and Wren pushes harder and deeper, until I scream.

With one last push, he sags against me, his forehead buried into the side of my neck.

"Holy fuck," Wren gasps out.

"Woah," I breathe, completely spent.

He offers a breathy laugh, kissing me again, before pulling out. I wince a little, knowing I'll be sore later, but the best kind of sore. I miss his contact the moment he pulls away.

"I want to cuddle," I whine.

"Me too," he admits. "But the school might be on fire."

"I think it's me," I laugh. "I'm on fire."

He gives me a wicked grin as he yanks his pants on. My knees knock together when I stand and I have a hard time getting them to stop shaking as I step into my shorts. We're a mess–hair everywhere, sweat glistening over our skin, flushed red.

We both push the drawers away from the door and open it. A guard is coming down the hall. He stares between us and rolls his eyes.

"You're lucky it's an evacuation, or I'd be carding you," he shakes his head at us. "Get going. Now."

With our hands together, we run down the hall. Adrenaline is still spiking through my veins, making me feel light-headed and jittery.

The outside world is bright and hurts my eyes when we step through the doors. A large crowd of students has gathered at the gates.

"Everyone stay calm, the fire alarm was accidentally triggered," a teacher I don't recognise is saying on a megaphone. "Please stay still and by the fence until told otherwise."

I pull Wren with me and lean against the fence, feeling dazed.

"Did that just happen?" I whisper softly. "Or am I dreaming?"

"Hell of a dream, if it was one," he replies, threading his fingers with mine once more, and kissing the top of my hand. "Girlfriend."

I loop my arms around his neck and kiss him. I'll never get sick of this. Kissing him. The taste of him.

"For God's sake," a guard snaps. "Break it up!"

We peel away from each other, breathless, exchanging a lazy smile. I try to focus on my breathing as I prop against the fence. I dab my shirt across my face, trying to remove the sweat.

We have to wait over twenty minutes before they can confirm there is definitely no threat. I'm sitting on the grass with my legs in front of me, head resting on Wren's shoulders, waiting for the announcement we can go back inside.

I notice that Constance, Harlow, and the other party-goers are gathered in one group, surrounded by guards. They've been busted. I hardly have the energy to stare–or care–so I rest my head back, content in staying here for the rest of the day, the sun warm.

My mind keeps replaying the last hour.

And then my heart sinks into my stomach. Because we didn't use protection. My mouth dries.

Shit.

-------------------

Thoughts!?

What are you up to over Christmas, if you celebrate it? I know many of you aren't able to travel due to COVID, but are you able to see family? Do you have any traditions over Christmas? :-)