⌁ Thunder ⌁ Lana Del Rey Fanfiction

chapter thirty-five: submissive

Note: Sexual content is marked between the ***'s in case you choose to skip!

___________________

yesterday

...

"I'm back!" I call through the doorway, pulling my key out and shoving it into my pocket.

It's all mine. The key, the pocket, her.

"Finally," she whines, coming into view as I spin to face the innards of her apartment.

Lana's wearing an oversized tee that falls halfway down her bare thighs. Her hair's done up into a messy bun, and from what I've observed, it's fallen apart just a little more since I left her here. In the moment, she tucks a few of the dark, loose strands behind her ear.

I like that I caught that, because it gives me a justification for having studied her. To realize that any time I look at her, my breathing stops for a bit.

Lana runs towards me and sweeps her coffee cup out of my hand. "Careful, hot." I say dreamily, feeling the fleeting warmth on my palm evaporate.

She brings it up to her lips, ignoring me, and takes a sip. Her eyes wince a bit, so do her brows. Told you so. I give her a stern look.

"What? it's fine," she tries to play off, smirking and speeding down the stretch of the entryway.

I roll my eyes with a laugh as I follow her along into her presential disarray of chaos and order.

"You almost done yet?" I speak out, my eyes scanning around to find her sitting cross-legged on the floor mid-living room with a mess of papers and a laptop around her. I'd say it looks like a ritual but really, it's just grading.

She turns her head to me down low, tilts it to the side a bit with a glare.

does it look like it?

"no," she speaks out softly: a distortion of the tough look she gives me.

I let my shoulders drop as I sigh. "You've already taken all day!" I complain. My feet take me a few steps forward, but obviously not closely enough since I have to avoid stepping on the papers. "Why don't you save it for tomorrow?"

Just like that, her eyes leave me as her fingers form small, quick hammers along the keyboard.

"Can't. They're due by the end of the day." she gives a small, pleading look before receding into the blue-light gleam again. patience.

"Sooo," I object, "You've still got..." I check my phone quickly. "8 hours for midnight."

She gives me that tilted-glare again.

you should know better.

"Baby, I've got seventeen more papers to get through. Including yours." she says roughly. I drop my head down low, impatient but understanding. "I'll be done by dinner. Why don't you think up something for then in the meantime?" she calls out.

I lift my gaze up and assess the one she gives me back. Tough love. I know she wants to finish working as soon as possible to get back to me.