Summary: Nathan and Haley have a little fun at the Tree Hill Multiplex. Okay, make that a lot of fun.

Disclaimer: Not mine. Have never been mine, will never be mine.

"I cannot believe what you just did in there," Haley seethed as she and Nathan followed the crowd exiting the movie theater, her hands flying wildly about her as she glared at him.

Nathan, amused by his wife's antics, smirked and leaned in to whisper in her ear, careful to avoid her flailing hands lest he gets punched in the nose. "You certainly weren't complaining when my fing—"

"NATHAN!" she screeched before lowering her voice when people turned to stare. She clapped a hand over his mouth, her eyes flashing the warning echoed in her words. "Do. Not. Say. Another. Word."

He nodded and pressed a kiss to the palm covering his mouth, opening his mouth to lick at the soft skin. Grinning when she pulled her hand away with a blush staining her cheeks, he stepped closer and placed a kiss on her forehead.

"Haley, that was, without a doubt, the hottest experience of my life."

His words were a heated declaration, and for all of her embarrassment at just how far they went in the darkened theater, Haley knew he was telling the truth. But still, what they did with a crowd of people surrounding them. . .

Marrying Nathan had turned her into a total nympho, she was positive.

Thirty minutes earlier. . .

The movie was a dud, she couldn't remember what happened five minutes ago, and the promised hunk in the commercials was. . . well, he had nothing on her husband, she thought as she glanced at Nathan. She startled when she found he was staring at her, the movie also not holding his attention. The lights from the screen danced in his eyes, his gaze heavy with lust and longing for her, a look that still took her breath away.

They had only been married for a few weeks, but in those few weeks, Haley discovered a side to herself that she feared she would never find. Dating Nathan was something she never expected to happen, and the feelings he stirred in her—the lust and passion, not to mention the incredible love she felt—completely took her by surprise. Although they. . . experimented while dating, they never went too far, never pushed the boundaries too much; Nathan always holding himself back for fear of making Haley uncomfortable with the physical aspect of their relationship. Marriage changed things, spiraled their relationship into something. . . more than she ever hoped for, and Haley found herself opening herself to him, not only her heart and soul, but her body and all the desire she felt for him. Nathan made her feel. . . well, she knew that sex would be amazing but not so mind-numbingly, toe-curlingly fantastic.

Nathan always told her how attractive he found her, how one look from her, one touch, would have him hard as a rock within seconds. She believed him, hell, she felt the truth when he pressed against her just so, but there were times she turned to Nathan, intent on just asking a question or making an innocuous statement, and found him staring at her, his expression screaming that he wanted to find the nearest wall and fuck her into oblivion.

She was always surprised at those times, that Nathan could want her that much, and turning to him now, she was just as surprised.

"Nathan," she whispered, leaning close so as to not disturb the people surrounding them, "don't look at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like. . . that. Like you want to throw me down right here in the theater," she returned, her voice low but heavy with the desire he always provoked in her. Damn him! How could he have her so hot in such little time?

He smirked, the flickering action on the screen shadowing part of his face. "Well, how else do you want to me look at you when lifting up that skirt, pushing aside those that tiny scrap of fabric you call panties, and taking you right here, right now, is all I want to do?" His words practically dripped with lust, and the hand that was entwined with hers, loosened and rested on her thigh, just below the hem of her skirt.

Oh god, she was lost. Completely and utterly lost in this man and the scary thing was, she never wanted it to change. When he spoke like that, when he caressed her thigh like he was doing right now, she wanted to throw caution to the wind and just give in. To lose herself in the passion between them, to get swept away mindlessly by his hands, his words, and to never stop feeling the love and lust coursing through her veins.

"We can't do this here, Nathan, we just can't," she whispered, moaning his hand played with the hem of her skirt and snuck beneath, his slightly callused fingertips stroking the sensitive skin of her inner thigh.

"Do what, Hales? Watch the movie?"

She glared at him, or tried to glare at him but when he hit a particular spot on her upper thigh, her eyes closed and bit her lower lip to keep from moaning. She reached for his hand, intent on pulling it from underneath her skirt—they were in a pretty crowded theater, for heaven's sake and her husband had his hand up her skirt for anyone to see. Instead, her traitorous hand pushed his even closer to her center, to the pulsing ache that only he could soothe.

"Do this," she hissed, her voice louder than she anticipated and the woman sitting in front of Nathan turned around to tell them to shush.

Haley froze, certain they were about to be busted and oh god, how was she going to explain this to her friends when they had to come bail her and Nathan out jail after being arrested for public indecency? Ohgodohgodohgodohgodwhythehelldidsheagre

etocometothemovies? She knew what always happened at their apartment when they watched a movie—Nathan would get handsy, Haley would make a few feeble attempts to push him off, but soon he would be eating her out or she would be sucking him off and oh god, she was never going to get into Stanford with an arrest on her permanent record.

She breathed a sigh of relief when the woman turned back around to face the screen without screaming "perverts!" or drawing any further attention to them. That was too close a call, and she was more determined than ever to pull his hand from her thigh, the hand that was now dangerously close to the edge of her panties.

She tightened her hand around his wrist, a warning for him to stop, which her husband apparently treated as a go-ahead to creep his fingers underneath the leg of her panties and brush them against the wiry hair covering her mound. She bit back a moan, momentarily lost in the sensation, and pursed her lips, a look of embarrassment mixed with arousal crossing her face.
She felt Nathan staring at her and when she opened her eyes, she met his hungry gaze, which soon drifted down to where his hand was underneath her skirt, the sweep of his fingers against her center obvious against the denim material. She attempted to dislodge his hand, but her reluctant effort was as obvious to Nathan as it was to her. She was lost, she knew it, he knew it, and although the still coherent part of her brain—which was fading with every caress of his fingertips—warned her they needed to stop, the want curling in her belly deep and low was too powerful to ignore.

Grinding her hips against his hand, she shut her eyes again. If she shut her eyes, she could pretend they were not in the Tree Hill Multiplex on a Saturday afternoon in a crowded theater. . . but Nathan leaned forward, his breath hot against her ear, and whispered and Haley couldn't help but obey.

"Open your eyes, baby. Watch what I'm doing to you, how my fingers are pushing inside you. God, Hales, you're so wet, so wet just for me, and all I want to do is pull my fingers from you and lick your juices from them. You want that, Hales? You want me to taste you?"

As he spoke, he circled her clit with the tip of his index finger, the butterfly-light pressure driving Haley insane and pushing her ever closer to her peak. She pushed into his hand, her own directing his to where she needed it.

"Nathan," she whispered, her voice breathy and full of passion. "Please, touch me."

"Where?"

"Inside. . . fin-fingers inside. Please, baby. Finger me, god, f-fuck me with your fingers. So good, feels so good inside," she babbled, her head slowly turning from side to side against the seat.

She nearly groaned out loud when he complied, a long finger entering her pussy quickly followed by another. He set up a slow, lazy pace, one meant to arouse and tease and drive her to her impending climax. When she began rocking her hips, a silent plea for him to increase his thrusts, she almost wept when he refused, maintaining a languorous tempo. She pushed his hand further into her cunt, his thumb rubbing firmly against her clit, and her eyes closed as the pleasure became too much.

It was too much and not enough and Haley felt like she was going to crawl out of her skin if he didn't . . . do something.

Uncaring about their location, about anything other than Nathan's fingers stroking inside her just so damn perfectly, Haley leaned over to nibble on his earlobe before whispering, "Nathan, I love your fingers inside me, but I swear, if you don't make me come right now you will never get laid again."

Her words had the intended effect, and Haley shuddered as he added a third finger, the painpleasure straddling that fine line, and increased his pace while maintaining firm pressure on her clit. If she lifted her skirt, she knew his fingers would be a blur, so frantic were his movements, but all she knew was that she was on the edge, so goddamn close to coming, that she didn't care if the entire theater was watching them. At that thought, her eyes flew open and she couldn't ignore the spark of pleasure that went straight to her cunt at the thought of people watching this intimate moment.

Oh god, not only was she turning into a nympho but she was becoming a kinky nympho!

Just a little bit more, another thrust. . . Almost as if he could read her mind, and sometimes Haley swore he could, he increased the speed of his thrusts, his fingers so rapidly withdrawing and entering her pussy, she mindlessly chased her pleasure, grinding against his hand until she felt the bubble burst, warmth flooding her body as stars exploded in her vision.
He slowed his pace to gently bring her back down, and she whimpered when he finally stopped and withdrew his fingers, her arousal reigniting when he brought them to his mouth and deliberately licked each finger.

Before she could recover, the credits were rolling and the theater lights were coming, the crowd gathering their belongings and beginning to leave. She was brought swiftly back to reality and oh god, what did they just do?! And in a public place no less?

She glared at her husband, who was smirking beside her as he sat back in his seat, perfectly okay with what exactly they did and where they did. She knew Nathan was. . . kinda man-whorish before they dated but even he had to be somewhat embarrassed, right? His shit-eating grin most definitely was not one of embarrassment.

Hastily gathering her purse, her movements jerky and clumsy due to her mortification, she stomped past him, not even stopping to apologize when she accidentally stepped on his toe. Hearing his muttered proclamation of pain, she fought the smirk that threatened to appear, but when he still didn't get up, she turned away; worried that maybe she had hurt him.
"Nathan, are you okay?"

"Oh yeah, Hales, I'm fine. I was just remembering the way you pushed my ha—"

"I am never going anywhere with you ever again, Nathan Scott!"

With those final words, she turned and rushed out of the theater, her amused husband trailing behind her. She continued to express her embarrassment about their, no his behavior--after all, he was the one who instigated the whole thing—while Nathan attempted to distract her.

"Haley, that was, without a doubt, the hottest experience of my life."

Ooooh, if he thought his sweet, beautiful words would just make everything okay and cause her to forget that she just got off in a movie theater with half the town in attendance, he had another thing coming.

"And mine, too."

Two heads whipped around to see an unfamiliar college-age guy leering at Haley while shooting Nathan jealous glares.

Oh.

My.

God.

She was never leaving their apartment again. And she was never having sex with her husband again.

At least until tomorrow.