More Hooker!Soap (perhaps New Series??)

More Hooker!Soap (perhaps new series??)

pt.1

Never did you think you would be doing this. God, how desperate were you? Freshman year in University with an Astrophysics major, and you couldn't bring yourself to ask for help on your homework. So, what did you do? Turn to a hooker for help.

You heard of Soap from a friend (her so called best night of her life) and she mentioned how he was military, blows stuff up and shoots shit. Okay so demolitions and sniper? That's physics, right? Close enough, you'll take it. Now, you had no intention of sleeping with him, no. You just needed schoolwork done.

At least it started that way. One study session with him turned into two. Then three. Then you had a test coming up, and it was worth 20% of your grade. He was your go to, your very expensive tutor. Once he noticed that this was just a study session dynamic, he stopped charging you for the sessions. You were sweet, you were funny, and he enjoyed being around you. A strange friendship bloomed.

The day the dynamic between you two shifted was the day after you took your test. Soap had made plans with you to meet at a coffee shop that day, pass or fail. You had scored a 93% and couldn't wait to tell him. Walking through the shop door, you were met with the sight of Soap sitting at a table in the corner. He flashed you a smile, quickly looking you up and down, then to the counter in an attempt to hide it. Why did you have to be so pretty if he couldn't have you?

You walked to the table, sitting in front of him with the test in your hand. He sips his black coffee, and gestures to the paper.

"What'd ye get?" he asks, slightly impatient, "Ye have to h've gotten a pass"

You smile at him and slide him the test, "I did"

He looks at it and breaks out into a wide grin, "And ye thought ye couldn't do it. Guess a hooker isn't such a bad tutor, huh, bonnie?"

You blush and shake your head slightly, "Your military experience is what's making you"

He barks out a laugh, raising his hands in fake surrender, "Never said it wasnae"

Fifteen more minutes pass in friendly banter, simply enjoying your time together. You weren't blind, he was nice to look at. But that's just objective attraction, right? And of course it didn't help he was smart. And funny. But it wasn't a crime to find him attractive, even if you couldn't have him. He'd only want sex, right? There's a very small chance he'd want you outside of the bedroom.

Walking out the door, him by your side, he offers to walk you back to the university. It was getting dark earlier, so it was for your safety, as he would say. Nothing more, right? The walk back was quiet, yet comfortable. Conversation wasn't forced. Stopping in front of the building, you place your hand on his forearm.

"I really appreciate your help. Without you, I would've probably failed and would have had to spend the rest of the semester make the grade up" you smile lightly.

His eyes glance down at your hand, and he smiles, "It's nae issue really, good for the ole noggin' to keep the wheels turnin"

You chuckle, "I think I'll be okay now, as sad as it is that we won't study together anymore", You smile sadly. You remove your hand from his forearm and bring it down to your side.

His eyes follow your hand, and he looks back up to your eyes, "Y'know, we don't have teh hang out strictly for studying", he says, gently grabbing your hand.

Your heart speeds up, palms warming up, "what would uh, we do?", you ask softly.

"I could take ye to the movies, or a museum if you'd like? Like a-"

"Date?", you ask hopefully, heart pounding.

"Yes", he says with certainty.

You break out a smile, "I'd like that", you almost whisper.

It's quiet for a moment when you whisper, "I should head inside, gotta get sleep for class tomorrow"

He nods and lifts your hand to his mouth, "I'll text you", he says softly and then kisses it.

Butterflies rip through your stomach before you force yourself to walk away. He waits outside until you close the building door, then walks home, the warmth of your hand burning into his memory.

It isn't until you're in your bed, your fingers rubbing soft circles on your clit, with the still fresh memory of the way his lips felt on your skin, that he texts you.

Art museum on Saturday?

You smile as you text back

I'd like that