Isaac cried out in surprise at the sudden rush of feeling and arousal slamming into him like a freight train, eyes comically wide as his knees buckled. Slumping against the wall, he gazed up at the approaching figure, pleading with his eyes as he let out a pitiful little whimper.
“With frustration,” she gasped, kneeling across his lap. Snagging his hand, she added, “No, I — ” and paused to hiss sharply with need before dragging his hand up to the point of her shoulder, on her back. “Patch,” she managed. “Birth control. Virgin.”
“That’s just as good to me!” He declared with a surprising amount of coherency for someone nearly so overcome with arousal, and he rocked up against her. Then, a bewildered frown twisted his features and he tilted his head to the side, “Patch?”
She turned, pulling her hair aside, to show him the skin-colored patch there. “Like the pill. Only a patch. No babies.” She couldn’t find the words to ask about disease; the words tangled thickly on her tongue. They were both virgins, weren’t they? There was nothing to catch, right?