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.
Summer growled. “If you don’t I’m going to cry oh my god.” She scratched at him, mindlessly trying to pull him closer, even though they couldn’t /get/ any closer. She wanted to claim him, show the world that he was /hers/ and not for anyone else, and the tiny bit of her brain not overwhelmed by hormones observed that she must be picking that up off him, because normally she wasn’t quite that possessive or jealous.
“With anger or something else?” he grunted out with a surprising amount of coherency, sliding one hand down to cup at her rear, the other continuing to tug and tweak relentlessly at her nipple. “I’ve…have you got…you know?” he panted out against the corner of her mouth, hips shamelessly rutting against hers as the pleasure and arousal threatened to crescendo when they hadn’t gone all that far yet.
“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.”