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She's too young for him. And that seems to be going around lately -- hell, both of Basch's new boyfriends are too young for the rest of them, and that doesn't seem to be stopping anyone. But it doesn't mean Vossler has to feel good about it.
Especially where Ashe is concerned. He doesn't want to say it's because she's a girl -- Drace would probably kick him where it hurts for that, and he's sure she can think of a lot of places where it hurts -- but if he's being honest he thinks that's probably part of it. It's not that he doesn't think she can take care of herself. Not at all. That demo she did for the self-defense group on campus, the night he met her, got him hard faster than anything else he can remember that didn't involve somebody's clothes coming off.
That's actually kind of the problem right there. She got him hard, and he gave her his phone number pretty much on impulse. He expected that to be the end of it, apart from Noah giving him shit about it for the next few weeks. It was a shallow impulse and she was a good girl who'd see right through it.
Only what actually happened was that she called him up a few days later and asked if he wanted to hang out sometime. They went out to a movie -- an action movie, even, though maybe that was just because the other choices were some godawful Disney thing and a tearjerker chick flick -- and Ashe held his hand in the theater, a little too tight during the big chase sequence near the end, and kissed him goodnight when he brought her back to her dorm. It was a really nice date.
And Vossler's not really in position to be some nice girl's boyfriend.
"You're being a jackass," Noah says on Wednesday night, outside the fire house. He's leaning on his squad car, driver's door open so he'll hear it if the radio squawks. "And I'm telling you that as your friend."
"I can tell," Vossler says, rolling his eyes. "She's a nice girl with a lot going for her. I don't want her getting hung up on me when, you know."
Noah snorts. "What, you're afraid she's going to want to settle down and have babies as soon as you get in her pants? Listen to you, man." He digs in his pocket. "Here, I'm going to flip a coin. Heads you got to say that crap to Drace, and tails you got to say it to Fran."
"Fuck you," Vossler says. "That's different."
"So's this," Noah says. "Come on. She's what, eighteen, nineteen? And all she knows about you is you're hot and you laugh when shit blows up in Die Hard movies. If she is as cool as you're telling me she is, then she's got too much sense to get serious that fast. Call her up."
"Why are you such a dick?" Vossler says, even though he'd sort of like to be convinced. Noah's dinner break has to be over soon.
"It's for your own good." Noah pulls out his phone, tosses it from hand to hand. "Go on. Call Ashe, or I'm going to call Drace and tell her you're swearing off pussy because girls don't like to fuck around."
"You made your point already," Vossler says. "Shouldn't you be catching criminals somewhere?"
Noah grins. "In a minute. I'm waiting for you to make a phone call."
"Cocksucker," Vossler mutters. He digs out his phone, scrolls to find Ashe's number.
The phone rings once, twice. Maybe she won't answer. Three times. He can leave a message, get Noah off his back, and that'll be it.
"Hi," Ashe says into the phone, warmly, like she recognized his number on the display.
"Hey," Vossler says. "You busy?" Noah rolls his eyes, and Vossler flips him off.
"Homework, you know," Ashe says. "Happy to be interrupted. You?"
"Not bad. Slow night at the fire house, which is always good news for the rest of town." He's pacing. He always paces on the phone. "You have plans on Friday?"
"Not yet. You have a suggestion?"
Crap. He hadn't gotten that far, not really. "I don't know. You want to go get coffee, or something?"
"Sure," Ashe says. It sounds like she's smiling. He pictures her smiling. "I'm helping out with the beginning self-defense class, and then I'll need to come home and shower, but how about eight?"
He's not going to stand here and think about her in the shower like some kind of horny teenager. Okay, not much. "Sounds good to me. Pick you up at your dorm?"
When he gets off the phone a couple minutes later, Noah's grinning like the goddamn Cheshire cat. "If you say anything that sounds like 'I told you so,'" Vossler says, by way of warning, "I'm going to deck you, on-duty or no."
"Ungrateful bastard," Noah says cheerfully. "Always needing to be strong-armed into having a good time. You're as bad as my goddamn brother."
The radio in Noah's car makes some noise -- finally -- and he ducks into the seat to listen. Vossler thinks about where he should take Ashe, now that he seems to have asked her on a second date.
"I have to take off," Noah says. "Listen, you should come up to the house on Saturday and let us know how it went."
"Jesus," Vossler says. "You're having people up there again?"
"It's not a big thing," Noah says. "Me and Basch, Fran, maybe straight boy. Just want to spend a little more time on the lake while the weather's still nice enough."
"I'll think about it," Vossler says.
"All right." Noah starts the car, and Vossler steps back. "See you there."
Thursday goes by pretty fast. Sometimes they get wildfire calls this time of year, when the brush outside town is dry from the long summer and the rainy season hasn't come back yet, but so far this year's been pretty quiet. On Friday Vossler starts to actually worry about where they should go. Lakewood has a Starbucks now, in the shopping center off the bypass where that takeout Chinese place went under, but that seems a little corporate. Like taking a girl out to dinner at Applebee's, or something. The college bookstore has a coffeeshop in it, but he'd bet Ashe would rather get away from campus for a bit, and besides, he doesn't really want to meet her school friends and feel like even more of a cradle-robbing pervert than he already does.
So that leaves the Salikafe, which Vossler's never been to, mostly because Fran's sister works there and he gets the impression that there's no love lost between them. Not quite as bad as Basch and Noah used to be, or maybe worse, because it's less personal and more about principles.
Still, it's a non-corporate, off-campus coffeehouse, and Lakewood's lucky to have even one of those. Vossler figures he can't afford to be picky. So he picks Ashe up on Friday at eight -- he's on time and she's already waiting, which he appreciates -- and they head over there.
The coffee's actually pretty good, not too bitter, not too weird. Ashe gets one of the fancy things with whipped cream on it, and lingers over it with a little smirk like she knows exactly what she's doing when she licks her lips like that. Even the conversation is easier than Vossler expects it to be -- she asks good questions about his job, and he keeps up okay when she talks about her classes. It's going pretty well, for a date with a nice girl.
And then somebody turns off the music -- no real loss, since it was some of that girl-with-guitar-and-poetic-rage-at-injustice stuff that Vossler has no patience for, but at least it was quiet enough to ignore -- and a girl gets up on the cafe's little stage and turns on a microphone. "Good evening," she says. "Thank you all for coming out to support open mic night at the Salikafe."
Well, crap.
Vossler looks over at Ashe. What if she's into this kind of bullshit?
But no. She's making the kind of face you make when you're trying to be polite and you'd rather be laughing. She lasts about two sentences into the first guy's...poem, for lack of a better word, before she leans over and says, "Maybe we should go. I doubt they want us to keep talking all through this."
"Good point," Vossler says. "Ready whenever you are."
Jote's glaring at them as they get up, but whatever. She'd get more pissed if they stayed, because Vossler's not sure how long he can listen to pampered kids going on about the gossamer transcendence of pain without actually laughing out loud.
"Sorry about that," he says when they get outside.
Ashe laughs, and walks a little closer, so they're almost touching. "Let's call it a learning experience," she says. "No Salikafe on Fridays, due to poetry hazard."
Vossler grins. "It's not even like I have anything against poetry, when it's good," he says, because she's got enough of an education that he can admit stuff like that around her. "I mean, if that kid had been reading Yeats, or something --"
"How can those terrified vague fingers push the feathered glory from her loosening thighs?" Ashe suggests, smiling, and damn but that's never sounded so much like a come on.
"Jesus," Vossler says. "It didn't have to be porn, even."
"Complaining?" Ashe says.
"No," Vossler admits. Gravel crunches under their feet as they cross the Salikafe's little parking lot back to his jeep. He stops at the passenger side door. "I really don't want to take you home yet," he says.
Ashe shrugs. "Where would you go if you were hanging out with one of your friends?"
"Kildare's, maybe," Vossler says, but the pub doesn't let minors in and he doesn't want to think about Ashe being too young to drink. "Or else we might go back to my place to hang out."
"That sounds good," Ashe says. She stops right next to him, close enough that she has to look up to meet his eyes.
He'd have to be trying to miss an invitation like that. Vossler leans down, hand on the curve of her waist, and kisses her, and Ashe leans up into him like she's been waiting for him to do that all night.
It's not a nice college girl kiss at all. It's hard and pushy, sucking on his tongue, biting at his lip, the kind of kiss you put your whole body behind, the kind of kiss that says let's go get a room, and if we can't get a room let's find a handy wall. Vossler backs her into the side of his jeep and pins her, and she makes a sound into his mouth that might be a warning and might be a promise.
"My place?" he says. What the hell.
"Yes," Ashe says. She's holding onto his belt loops with both hands, pulling him close against her. "Let's go."
He's not going to be able to tell Noah about this at all, because Noah's right, the bastard. This is nothing like he was afraid it could be. "Okay," Vossler says, and lets Ashe go. "Let's."
Vossler's house is in an older part of town, a neighborhood full of little turn-of-the-century houses with hipped roofs and shallow balconies. The summer he bought it, he probably spent a good three hundred bucks just buying beer to bribe Basch to help him fix it up, and it's now, if he does say so himself, one of the nicest houses on the block.
Not that he plans on giving Ashe the tour, at least not first thing. He pulls into the driveway, and she's out of the jeep almost before he's killed the engine. "This is really nice," she says, as she walks up to the front door.
"Thanks," Vossler says, and then he's unlocking the front door before he can scandalize the neighbors by making out with a teenager on the front porch.
If she's still here in the morning he show her around then. For now Vossler heads straight for the bedroom, up the stairs and left, and Ashe follows without letting go of him. There's a little light coming in the window, but Vossler turns on the bedside lamp anyway. He likes to be able to see what he's doing.
When he turns back, Ashe is looking past him, and her expression is wary. "Wouldn't have thought you'd be into kinky stuff," she says.
Vossler shrugs. He takes a step back, tries not to look threatening. "Sometimes," he says. He'd left the cuffs sitting out on the table after Basch went home on Sunday, didn't even think to put them away afterward.
"You hoping for a chance to tie me up?" Ashe says.
Fuck, he'd do it in a heartbeat if she'd let him, but Vossler's pretty sure that's not why she's asking. "Only if you want me to," he says anyway, because it's worth a shot.
"I don't think so," Ashe says.
"No big deal, then," Vossler says. The idea's going to stick in his head, sure, but he'll cope. "Those cuffs are too big for you anyway."
That makes her look more interested. "Are those for you to wear, then?"
Crap. Either he can lie about it, and then have to try to get off while he's subbing, which never goes well, or they can get into a conversation way too serious for a second date.
"No," he says when he's weighed those options for a second. "They're not for me." He takes a deep breath. "There's this guy I know."
Ashe raises an eyebrow, and looks him up and down slowly. "And you tie him up, mm?"
"Sometimes," Vossler says. She's taking this okay. Maybe she really doesn't want to get serious either.
"This guy," Ashe says. "Does he know you're with me tonight?"
Vossler nods. "I mean, he doesn't know you're here, but he knew I was going out with you tonight. I'm not," the idea is kind of ridiculous, makes him smile, "fucking around behind his back or anything. Hell, he probably has a date tonight, too." Might as well get all this out in the open at once, right? As long as they're talking.
"Okay," Ashe says slowly. "And you, um, use protection? You're careful?"
"Of course," Vossler says. They're probably all okay, but it's a hell of a thing to gamble on, especially with his and Noah's jobs.
"Good," Ashe says. Her shoulders relax a little, and Vossler's reminded of Basch, of the way he does that when it really sinks in that they're going through with a flogging and he should get comfortable. "You're a lot less wholesome than you look, you know that?"
Vossler raises an eyebrow, because it's his turn to ask now: "You complaining?"
Ashe smiles back, at last. "No," she says, "I guess not."
He still waits, lets her take the first step toward him, because he doesn't think he ought to push his luck just yet -- but when she does, he moves to meet her, slides his hands around her waist and leans down for another kiss. She doesn't kiss any harder than last time, either, which is real nice, means she's not trying to prove anything now that she knows he tops. He got into that a little with Noah, at first, and it was hot, but it tends to make him push back, and that'd probably end badly for both of them.
When he pulls her shirt up enough to get his hands on her skin, she moans. She feels so slight in his arms, shorter than Fran and less built than Drace, and he thinks he'll just keep it to himself how much he likes that.
She takes half a step back and tugs at the hem of his shirt. "Can I see?" she says.
Vossler smiles. "I'll race you," he says, and she laughs.
It's a pretty even match getting their shirts and shoes off, but Ashe's pants are tighter, so she has to wiggle to get out of them -- not that Vossler's complaining, not even a little. Her bra and panties don't match, which he finds sort of charming, and then she's reaching back to unhook her bra, and charming isn't quite the word for that. He pushes his shorts down, steps out of them, and her eyes flick down, appraising, warm, like she likes what she sees.
"I win?" Vossler says.
"I guess you do," Ashe says, and looks back up at his face. "You want a prize?" She hooks her thumbs in the elastic of her panties and pushes them down, off the curve of her hips, and Vossler's mouth waters. She's shaved down to a little follow-me stripe of golden hair, and he can practically already taste her.
"Yeah," he says, reaching out. "Come here."
She feels even better in his arms naked, the crush of her breasts soft against his chest, the smooth skin of her belly against his cock. Her hands explore, following the line of his biceps, one sliding up to toy with the hair at the nape of his neck, the other down along his side and inward to take hold of his cock. Vossler growls into her mouth.
"Come on," he says, hand at the small of her back to pull her with him. "Bed."
He tugs her down with him, and he's not surprised that her first instinct is to land on top of him, straddling his thigh -- yeah, she'd cuff him in a second if he'd let her. Maybe he should introduce her to Basch. He runs his hands up her sides, takes her breasts in his hands, and she rocks against him, grinding against his thigh when his thumbs brush her nipples. When he catches them between his fingers and twists, she moans like he's dragging the sound out of her by force, and her cunt is so slick against him it burns.
Vossler wraps an arm around Ashe's waist and rolls them over, and just for a second when her back hits the mattress there's this gorgeous flare of panic in her eyes. He ducks his head, hopes she doesn't see him react, wants to keep this friendly. By the time he's mouthed his way down between her breasts, when it's clear he's going to keep going, she's not quite so tense. When he licks at her navel, her breath stutters, and when he lets his teeth scrape the hollow just above that little patch of hair, she spreads her legs further, rocking her hips up.
She smells like soap and the clean salt of her cunt, and her folds are wet enough that they shine when Vossler pulls back to just look at her for a second before he starts to lick her. "God," she says, "oh god," and when his tongue laps at the bare nub of her clit she shudders like he has her wired up for electric play. He does it one more time just because he can, and then backs off, works the hood with slower, harder strokes. She tastes as good as she looks, as good as she sounds, making breathy, hungry sounds like she wants to make sure he knows how much she likes it. Vossler's rock hard, resisting the temptation to rub against the sheets just for some friction. He's got plenty of time. It's good.
Ashe's hand snarls in his hair and pulls, and Vossler growls, would bite, except she says, almost breathless, "I want your cock in me when I come."
He sits back, and she lets go. "You can't go more than once?"
"Not usually," she says, and that sounds like a challenge, but hell, he'll leave the challenge for their next date, right? Give him something to look forward to.
"Condoms in the drawer next to the bed," he says, and she pulls one out, sits up halfway so she can help him roll it on -- fuck, her hands feel good. She's not shy about cock at all, like she likes it as much as any of them.
She stretches out again on her back like she expects him to fuck her missionary, but hell, if she wants to get off on this they can do better than that. Vossler slides a hand under her thigh to roll her over, and she says, "Pushy, aren't you?" but she rocks up on her knees anyway.
"Tell me to stop if you don't like it," he says, pretty sure she would have already if she were going to -- she just shakes her head, so he steadies her with a hand on her hip, curls his other hand around the base of his cock, and lines up behind her. Her cunt is slick, hot even through the rubber, and she moans, low and drawn out the full length of his stroke as he slides into her.
"God," Vossler says, because she's tight around him, welcoming, flexing the muscles of her cunt around his cock when he thrusts. He takes her by the hips and pulls her back, so he can fill her deeper, and she croons when he's all the way in. He can feel her shift her weight, press her fingers against her clit -- the tips just brush his shaft, and she pushes hard enough that it's a heavy pressure inside her cunt, a spot that resists. Vossler tilts his hips, tries to angle his strokes so he'll hit that spot more directly, make her moan.
Ashe tosses her head, shoves back against him hard. "Yes," she says, her voice raw, her hand moving faster, "Like that, ah -- please --"
"Yeah," Vossler says, rocking deep in her cunt, barely pulling out, "give it to you just how you want it," and she nods again and neither of them has the breath to keep talking, reaching for it, wanting -- the scent of her cunt on the air makes him dizzy, her slickness so easy, and she trembles with need under him -- not as delicate as she looks, he knows that, but the look is so goddamn hot all the same, the look and the rising desperate pitch of the sound she makes -- and he's watching when she comes, when she tightens hard around his cock, her head bowed and her free hand clawing at the sheets, and god, her thighs tremble against his.
He speeds up as she finishes, as she pulls her hand away and braces herself to push back. If she seemed slick before, damn -- she's practically dripping now, almost too easy, almost too smooth, but that just means he can give it to her fast and hard. And when she gets her breath back a little she starts to move with him, starts to squeeze around him at the end of each stroke -- Vossler growls, holds tight to her hips -- that's going to do it, going to be enough in another minutes, going to make him -- like that, just a little more -- god, right -- there, and he moans in his throat as he comes, shuddering into her, and she makes a low pleasure sound like she wanted him to do it.
She feels so good around his cock that he almost wants to stay right there, not pull out, but that's not terribly safe and she'd probably like a chance to move, anyway. Vossler reaches down to hold the condom in place and pulls out, rocking back on his heels. Ashe slides down into a little boneless heap on the bed, and he laughs.
"Wear you out?" he says.
Ashe rolls over, and smiles. Her hair is sticking to her forehead, and her cheeks are flushed. "Proud of yourself?" she says.
"Maybe," Vossler admits. He works the condom off, knots it, tosses it at the trash can. "It's nice to feel like I can still keep up with you kids."
"Must be all that training you've apparently been doing with your friend," Ashe says, nodding at the cuffs, and that -- hell. She's okay with it enough to tease him about it. This was a really good idea.
"Yeah, that must be it," Vossler says. Friends, plural, but they'll get to that. Probably soon. He stretches out next to her, slides an arm around her waist. "Do I need to take you home tonight, or can you sleep over?"
Ashe rolls closer, rests her head on his shoulder. "I should call my roommate," she says, "and tell her I'm staying. But yeah." She doesn't move to get up just yet, though, and Vossler figures that's just fine.
Hey, with things going this well, maybe he'll see if she's free tomorrow, if she wants to come up to the lake for a while.