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For my next trick, I shall embark upon a story series. Essentially, the same rules as before -- short, erotic fiction -- but this time with an overarching plot thingy! This is chapter one, in which two of the main characters are introduced. They're college kids, in the second half of their education, and... well, doing what college kids do. Standard disclaimer - please offer criticism, feedback, etc. If you don't, I can only get better through blind luck.

"Extra Credit," by Rob Baird.

--

On the beleaguered jetliner, high above Denver, the turbulence had progressed from mildly uncomfortable into outright worrying. It was no longer a question of calling the airline to complain; now Andy fully intended to kiss the ground upon his arrival. If it occurred. It was possible that it would not -- the lights were starting to flicker, and the intercom sounded. The flight attendant was telling people to fasten their seatbelts. She was telling him, specifically, to do so. She was calling his name, over and over...

The line between consciousness and unconsciousness went fuzzy, and when it resolved he was looking blearily at his room, and the dark shape bouncing up and down in the center of his field of vision. The bed was shaking. "Chris..." he mumbled, nudging at the shape with his foot.

The bouncing stopped. "Oh, there you are. It's already half past!" Her statement seemed like an accusation of shiftlessness; an impugning of his moral fiber.

"Half past what?"

"Eight! Cripes, Andy, the day's wasting away."

8:30 on a Saturday. Andy sat up slowly. He had gone to bed no more than five hours prior; his brain was clawing its way to wakefulness only with a great and painful effort. "C'mere for a moment."

Chris leaned forward obligingly. When he seized her, drawing her down with him swiftly, the Border collie gave a giddy shriek. Then he rolled to pin her, and she simply grinned her best canine grin up at him, eyes bright behind her immaculate glasses. The abruptness of the movement had scattered her hair, and against the pillow her ears perked lightly. "Hi."

He did not want to be angry at her -- stern, perhaps, rendered grumpy by the loss of his sleep. But she was so guileless, and her grin so desperately infectious, that he simply slumped down next to her, propping himself up on an elbow. "You should stop bouncing."

"Why?"

"Do you have any idea what my downstairs neighbors think?"

"Yeah? What about 'em?"

"Couldn't you just try breakfast in bed? I bet I would wake up if you made breakfast."

"No you wouldn't. You," Chris said, putting her paw on his shoulder and giving him a firm shove to knock him onto his back, "are lazy and you would stay in bed all day if you could." She straddled him, then, peering down with mock severity and rapping her claw against his nose. "That just won't do."

Andy wrinkled his muzzle. "And why not?"

"We have business to attend to, mister." The act could no longer hold; she flashed an impish grin at him, and through the blanket he could feel the collie's tail striking his leg in a swift, repeated thump. Chris did nothing slowly. "And you should get up. I have..." She stretched out, and leaned back theatrically, reaching for a chair she had rolled up to the foot of his bed. It gave him the chance to watch her move; to watch her limbs, lanky and straight, as they jerked back like a fishing pole. She dangled something shiny before his muzzle. "Keys to the museum. And I know that they've had to let the night watchman go, 'cause of the budget cuts."

"So you want to go to the museum tonight?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Why?"

Chris flopped forward to rest atop him, her nose pinning his. He could feel the warmth of her body even through the thick fur and the fabric of the blanket, close and soft and reassuring. "I will give you two reasons. First, I'm an archaeologist. Think about all the cool stuff that's in the museum archives! I bet they have all kinds of old -- "

"Broken pots?"

"-- Artifacts." She stuck her tongue out, close enough that it brushed his muzzle. "Old tools... maps... maybe they even have a ghost! Who knows?"

"They don't have a ghost."

Not in the mood to brook disagreement, she bit him lightly on the nose for a moment. "They might," she said -- he thought; the words were indistinct. Finally she let him go. "That's what we have to investigate for. And anyway, you haven't heard my second point."

"Alright. Your second point?"

"Right. Second, I'm an archaeologist." She dropped her muzzle lower, so that it rested between the pillow and his ear. Her voice softened to match. "When I tell you that I have the keys to the museum and there's no guard, you should be hearing my parents aren't home tonight."

"Mm?" He wrapped his arms around the collie girl, drawing her snugly to him as though the closeness might help him decipher her metaphor. "The museum, huh?"

"Well, don't you think?"

"Ah... well..." he murmured quietly. Her ear was folded over, teasingly close to his muzzle. He gave it a thoughtful tug. "Maybe... I mean, a museum... In a way, that makes sense, I guess."

Chris leaned back, so that he had to give up his grip on her ear. Her bright eyes fixed him, and she tilted her head."Are you about to make a pun on the word 'bone,' Andy?"

Oh, she knew him too well. "Maybe a little."

She snickered. "I can see right through you, nanook."

"Hey!" He fumbled for a pillow, swinging it for her blindly; she took it to the side of the head with a girlish yelp. "I'm not a sled dog. I'm a wolf, damn it."

Straightening up again, she grinned toothily. "Your mom's mom is purebred husky."

"Do I have a curled tail?"

Chris poked his chest. "Her dad was half."

"Do I have a curled tail?" he repeated.

This only fetched another poke. "Your dad's dad is a malamute."

"Do I have a curled tail? Also, grandpa Jess is only half."

"Fine, half. But I've heard you howl, you know, mister big and bad. If a wolf made that noise, they'd kick him out of... wolf club, or whatever. Do you want to hear my impression of your howl? It goes kinda like -- "

It was the final straw. He growled, as imposingly as possible, and rolled her back over, holding her down while his other paw sought out her side, pressing his fingers through her fur in a teasing scrabble. "You take that back!"

This had the desired effect; the collie giggled helplessly, squirming and batting at his arm ineffectually. She was lightly built, but strong; as she curled up, trying to shield herself from the tickling, he was almost thrown off. It required a redoubling of his effort, but he persisted until finally -- breath broken with laughter -- she gave in. "Fine!"

He stopped, but raised an eyebrow warily. "Fine?"

"You are a fearsome, ferocious beast." She wrapped her arms around his upper back, catching him off-guard so that she could pull him down and give his nose a kiss. "But I would love you even if you weren't."

Grinning, Andy settled down beside her again. "Tonight, though? I have a paper due Monday."

"What for?"

"English. About Burgess' use of language in A Clockwork Orange."

Chris cocked her head, brushing her hair back so that she could see him clearly. "Have you read the book?"

"Yeah."

"Well, then it should only take you an hour or two."

"Maybe." Chris did not have to worry about her essays. She put them off until the last minute and then sat at her computer, fingers a blur, eyes fixed in a piercing stare on the computer screen. When she focused her energy, Andy thought -- which was not always -- she could do anything she wanted. He was not so lucky. The essay would take work; plodding, methodical work that he could not replicate as swiftly as the collie. "But I should get started this morning, at least."

"You and your work ethic..." The collie snuggled up to his side, rubbing her fingers through the exposed fur of his chest. "How much can anyone write about an orange, anyway? Different ways to cut 'em up. In half, into quarters, into those little slices..." She counted off each suggestion with a tap.

He poked her nose. "A clockwork orange, you illiterate goof."

Chris feigned the miffed air of an apprentice whose work has been derided by an unworthy journeyman, her ears back and her lips pursed in a slight frown. "Aww, you can't cut those at all. Wait!" Suddenly her ears perked again, and she raised herself up on an elbow to look down at him, head quirked. "Well, in that case, it definitely can't take you more'n a couple hours. You can do that this afternoon, when I'm at work!"

Andy closed an eye, watching her closely with the other. "Or I could do it this morning. I don't have anything else planned, and I presume you don't have any better suggestions."

The collie's ears remained perked, folded so that the tips pointed straight forward, and she stuck her tongue out again for a teasing, playful moment. "Hey, now, you know I always have better suggestions."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," she echoed, and rolled over and atop him, crossing her arms on his chest and resting her head on her paws. "Of course." Sighted distantly, down the length of her body, her tail wagged, white tip swinging until it blurred.

In two years, Andy had never figured out where she got her energy. Sometimes it seemed as though she never stopped moving, save for in those brief hours of sleep where she froze, her frame compacted and curled so that she seemed even more diminutive, and could not be roused by the end of the world. Now, though, she seemed to hum with barely harnessed electricity. "Do tell?" he asked, and watched her grin brighten.

"Well!" Her paws at his chest gave a little shove as she pushed herself upright, straddling him. "I could help you work on your paper! You could contribute your masterful English-major prose, and I could add in my honed culinary skills! We could write so much about oranges you could turn it into a senior thesis! Or..."

Snickering, he opened his other eye, the brow arching. "Yes, 'or.' I already told you it wasn't about the fruit. What's the other option?"

Her tail thumped faster, and the grin that crossed her angular muzzle grew sharper. "Well, we could annoy your downstairs neighbors some more." She winked at him, and as if the meaning might otherwise have been lost the collie accented the suggestion with a firm grind of her hips -- a devastating, warm sensation even through the comforter.

Andy stroked a finger along his muzzle slowly, as if pondering -- musing aloud. "Well, even ignoring my lease, that wouldn't do much for my major GPA..."

"Wouldn't it?" Chris cocked her head, and repeated the grinding movement under the guise of shifting to get more comfortable. "I thought..."

"No." He returned the collie's grin, and brought his paws to her hips, giving her an affectionate squeeze. "I'd have to take you as an elective."

Chris giggled, smile widening for a moment, so broad that her eyes squinted with the laughter. "Oh, is that how it works?" She prodded his chest with an outstretched finger. "Fine. One credit hour elective, then."

"Only one?"

"Well, you do have that essay. So what do you say?"

His paws slid down and along her hips to her firm rear, the muscles taut beneath his touch. "I'm not sure. I haven't seen the course description..."

"Close your eyes?"

"Not a chance."

She ran a finger down the length of his muzzle to poke between his eyes. "Fine. We'll have to do this the hard way, then." From the way she had continued the slow, teasing press of her hips against his, a pun presented itself readily -- but Andy chose to keep quiet.

Instead he watched, as her fingers took the fabric of her t-shirt, drawing it up slowly -- baring the bleached white and deep, coal black of her soft pelt inch by agonizing inch. She kept her eyes fixed on his, acutely aware of the anticipation smoldering in his eyes -- grinning mischievously, until her muzzle disappeared for a moment as she pulled the shirt over her head.

He contented himself with running his fingers through her fur, plush and warm under his paws. She had to twist a little, reaching behind her to undo the clasps of her bra, and as her back bent he traced the arch of her spine with his fingers. This fetched a slight shiver from the collie, and she straightened again with a wordless exhalation of pleasure.

Chris was a study in light and shadow -- a graceful shape that exceeded his description each time he saw it, lithe and athletic in bold defiance of her compact form. Now, brushing her dark hair back and over her shoulders, she smirked at him -- animating that form with girlish, boundless energy. "Well?"

"Can I audit?"

She shook her head, as she swung her leg back over to divest him of the comforter that had shielded his form. "Nope. You are all in, mister Kekkonen. No auditing, no pass/fail, no -- " She cut off in a squeaking yip as he favored the collie's rump with a firm grope.

"I'm just worried about the final."

"First things first, babe." She hooked a claw into the elastic of his briefs, tugging at them for a moment with some difficulty. "You know, this would be easier if..."

"You should've thought of that before you went all lap dance on me, professor. What do you want me to do, lose a couple inches?"

"Yeah. A couple inches would be fine. Give you enough left over."

"Sure. Three's an auspicious number, right?"

Chris smirked and did not answer. She reached beside her, and he heard the jingling of her keychain. Then he felt the press of her other paw, holding the fabric in place before giving a quick jerk, he felt the elastic give way abruptly beneath the serrated edge of a repurposed office key. This, along with the other keys, she discarded unceremoniously. "There we go! Much better."

"You're so harsh on my wardrobe..."

She grinned, leaning back to get her paws beneath the short skirt and panties she wore, sliding them down and away, removing her legs one at a time and letting the garments drop over the side of the bed and to safety, free of any retribution. "Well," she said -- straddling him again; holding herself just so, so that the tip of his now-pronounced erection brushed teasingly against wet, inviting warmth with each heartbeat that pulsed through his body. "If you'd like to get dressed now, I promise I'll leave you be. No penalty for dropping."

"At this point, I'm pretty sure it's a required course, isn't it?" He placed his paws on her rump, arching up and pulling down on her urgently. It was an unnecessary gesture, for as soon as the tapered point of his shaft had found its mark, slipping just within her, Chris lowered her hips, taking him to the hilt smoothly. He settled back, the oath of pleasure that crossed his lips tinged with a lupine growl.

For her part, the collie had let out a soft moan, and she grinned down at him with a patently feral expression, her tongue lolling ever so slightly. Placing her paws on his chest to brace herself, she started to move in a fluid, revolving rhythm -- lifting up until his tip just barely remained inside her and then dropping again, her hips shifting in a fervent grind at his own.

Andy moved with her, as he could, although when Chris set the pace of their lovemaking it was quick and heated and hard to keep a steady rhythm. She rode him swiftly, pressing down urgently at each stroke to drive him firmly, deeply into her body. She was wet, and warm, holding him in a tight, velvet embrace as she squeezed about his throbbing shaft.

He wanted to savor this -- to linger on each stroke that enveloped him in the sodden, slick heat of his lover's folds, and the sounds the collie girl made as his paws found her breasts, squeezing gently, thumb flicking over the pert nipples, dark against the bone white of her chest fur. But, though her pace built quickly, Chris was further from the edge than he was -- so he looked past her, focusing on the play of light against the wall, and the swirling shapes of his computer's screen-saver, finding anything that could hold his attention.

She kept bringing him back. Her paws bunched at his chest, dull claws digging in bright points of something that would've been pain in any other circumstance. His eyes were torn from the light on the wall by the look on her face -- eyes shut tightly, ears back and tongue lolling, a momentary look of tension and heightened bliss shifting her features each time she rocked down to fill her aching body with the heat of his member.

His ears, too, caught everything -- the sound of the bedsprings, and their panting breath, and the Border collie's strained, giddy sounds of carnal bliss. She was always vocal when they mated; wordless, but vocal -- little canine growls and whimpers and yips that marked each exhalation.

Now, above the slick, wet sounds of their coupling, her cries were becoming louder and more impassioned. It was impossible to remain distracted for long; Andy felt the base of his shaft swell larger with each beat of his racing heart, a growing, solid presence that only seemed to draw ever more heated and wanton yelps from the collie above him. Her pace was slowing, and he felt he muscles in her thighs tense and tremble as each stroke grew more haltingly taken.

Suddenly her back arched -- she bared her white throat as her muzzle lifted with a guttural, warbling bark. He was aware of three points of pressure simultaneously -- two at his chest, as her paws gripped him desperately; the other around his shaft as she rocked deeply to plunge him fully within her, lips parting with an effort around his knot, then closing about it snugly to trap him within her. She was squeezing him, over and over, each contraction marked by another arch to her spine.

Locked inside the collie, Andy bucked his hips upward, urgently and without rhythm -- fast, powerful movements taken quickly in the confines of her body as he sought to join her in climax. And now it was his turn to irk the neighbors, his pent-up, ragged breath leaving him in deep, feral grunts and growls as he felt his sac draw up tighter, and the tension built to its final, inexorable resolution.

Then he was beyond any semblance of control, gripping her waist in both paws, holding her straining body still as his hips ground up and against her. His lips drew back, baring teeth -- and then he let out a snarl, deep and passionate, as his shaft twitched and he began to pump the collie with thick, warm spurts of come. His hips bucked in time to his release, and from the pleased little gasps Chris made with every heated pulse he knew that she could feel him, urgently filling her with his seed.

When she slumped forward and against him, his length was still twitching weakly as he spent himself thoroughly inside her, and it took a long few minutes to force his breathing back to normal. Chris was a soft, warm, solid presence above and around him, her paws -- having not moved -- now rubbing his chest as if to smooth out the divots they had pressed into it in their eager clawing. He hugged her tightly.

"Better'n a damned orange," she muttered, her tail starting to wag once more, thumping at his legs. "Clockwork or no."

"Better than," he agreed. "But I don't think I can write this up as an essay for Dr. Areitio."

"That old prude," she said, shaking her head. "Well, you're a slow typer. Tell me about this mechanical citrus and I'll write it up. I'm good at taking things down."

"I've noticed -- sort of. You took down your skirt pretty well..."

"I'm a pro."

"... But you committed an act of brutality on my Fruit of the Looms. So you're only batting .500."

She smirked, resting her nose on his. "That's a pretty good score, isn't it? Better'n Shoeless Joe and Ty Cobb, anyway, as long as you're going all Field of Dreams on me."

Well, she had him to rights. "Ah, it's true." He sighed, and gave her a lingering hug. "When do you want to meet up at the museum, anyway? Eight? Nine? When do you get off?"

"Sometimes, nine fifteen on a Saturday morning. Off work, though..." She clicked her tongue. "If the bus is on time, I should be back by... yeah, half past eight or so? Let's make it nine, at the museum. I'll bring my keys."

So it was a date. He wrapped his arms tightly around her, and as she snuggled up into him, their fur mingling, he nibbled the collie's floppy ear. "Meant to ask... how'd I do, professor?"

Chris giggled, although the sound was muffled by her nose, wedged into the fluff of his neck. "Well... fortunately for you, I grade on a curve..."

"Fancy that, so do I." He traced his paw languidly from her hip up to her breast, fingers trailing teasingly through the dense fur. "Well, certain curves."

"Philistine," she said, and bit his ear to hide her grin. Teeth still closed lightly on the sensitive rim, she gave a thoughtful growl. "Just based on your scores, I shouldn't, but... I can probably let you go with an" -- she leaned back, and pressed her lips to his in an uncharacteristically tender kiss -- "I love you, you wonderful husky, you."

Andy nuzzled her neck, ignoring the fond teasing to focus on the grade. "I love you too, missy monochrome." Then he drew back, quirking an eyebrow questioningly. "Wait. If I'm already passing, then what's all this about your office hours tonight?"

"Oh, that?" Chris giggled again, and this time the kiss she gave him was more impish. "Well. That's for extra credit."