Saving Boston (Rewritten)

If This Is The Price I Pay, I'll Do It All The Time.

The woman beside me fixated her gaze on the Harry Potter movies. I wasn't sure which one we were watching, and if I asked the curly-haired girl, she would snap at the idea I never paid enough attention to find out. I just knew it had the bitch who wore too much pink in it. How do I explain to her the movies were never as interesting as her reaction to them? I wanted to see what upset her as much as I wanted to see the very moments she started to smile.

I questioned why Bo loved this movie in particular. Whenever she saw that specific professor, her eyes would narrow. The first time I heard Bo say the word bitch wasn't because she said it to somebody, but because she said it to a fictional character. This woman is just trying to do her job, and there are a million people across the world who hate her. I guess she is doing her job right.

Bo asked me every five seconds if I loved these movies. I don't, but I cannot tell her that. I love how much she loves them, though. She thought they were the definition of cinema aside from every Marvel movie ever made. I thought they were pretty fucking genius, though. If it made my girl smile, it was already at the top of my fucking list for the best movies to ever be created.

I nibbled on my bottom lip, fighting back the urge to laugh as I watched her mouth the lines of her favorite person, Hermoine. She adored that woman, and I adored how much she loved fictional characters. They weren't real to me, but they were real to her.

When the music started to pick up, I watched Bo's demeanor change. She watched this movie more than she had blinked, but nothing made her nerves skyrocket like watching her favorite movies. I watched as she started shoveling spaghetti down her throat, and even if it made me happy to see her eating, I worried she would choke.

"Bo, slow down," I snapped.

Just as she turned to speak, she inhaled deeply. I watched her eyes meet mine as they widened. My body shot from the couch as her fingers curled around the base of her throat. Just as my arms wrapped around her, she started panting.

"I am okay," she held up her hand. "I am sorry."

A breath of air left my lungs as I rubbed my palm over my face. "I told you to slow down."

When the pressure on my chest pushed me onto the couch, my eyes shot open to see Bo steadying her hands on my shoulders as she spread her thighs over my lap. My head fell back as I watched her gather the curls I adored onto one side of her neck before her lips came down to meet mine.

"I said I was sorry," her words fanned across my mouth.

I stared into her caramel eyes. "Your apologies are good."

A little giggle left her lips as she pressed them against me. My head fell against the backside of the couch as she dominated me. I loved moments like this when her confidence wasn't in question, and her fingers were trailing every inch of my bare skin.

The corner of my lips tugged upward as she arched her back, allowing my hand to slide underneath her loose shorts and squeeze her ass. As she pressed further into me, I reached between her legs with my free hand to slowly drag my middle finger between her legs. My jaw clenched at the heat radiating from her thin shorts.

Her knees slipped against the couch as she tried to push deeper into my hand. She hated the way I teased her, barely touching her with my fingers. When my finger slipped in between her folds, the cloth curled around me. She wanted me to put her shorts to the side, but I loved making her beg.

"Kinnick," her palm pressed against the back of the couch as she held herself up.

I watched her face with adoration. "What, baby?"

Her lips parted as I palmed her. "I am sorry."

"Your apology is accepted," I kissed her neck.

"Then why are you teasing me?"