Rose Coloured Glasses

By: MajorSam

Author's Note: My first ever published Lyatt fic! HURRAY! FINALLY! I've been writing for months but haven't had the nerve to actually post one… until now! If you all like it, and REVIEW, I might just have to start posting them all! Everything from heavy drama and angst, to silly comedy, to more delightful, fluffy, smut! There is a serious lack of Lyatt fic in the world. We must fix this!

I was trying to sleep last night and just couldn't. This image popped into my head… and this fic happened. I had to write it all in one, frenzied go. See notes at the bottom for what the image was.

Special thanks to the Twitter DM group I recently joined for being beautiful, encouraging fans.

Setting: At least a few years in the future. Rufus has been back for ages, Rittenhouse is defeated, everyone is happy. Lucy is a professor again. Wyatt, as my favourite fandom-wide headcannon loves, is head of security for the reborn and improved Mason Industries. Lucy and Wyatt are engaged. *sigh* Wouldn't it be nice…

"What the hell are those?"

Lucy jumped. She actually, physically, leapt into the air at the sound of Wyatt's voice booming at her from the doorway to her home office.

"Um…" she looked down at herself. White, short sleeve blouse tucked into a black pencil skirt. Simple black pumps on her feet. Standard, sensible clothes for a lecture. "Clothes?"

"No," her fiancé hissed. "On your face."

Wide-eyed, Lucy reached up and touched her fingers to the black frames. "G….glasses?"

His fists were balled at his side and a vein was throbbing in his neck. "Since when the hell have you worn glasses?"

"Um… a while?" she stammered. "They help. For lectures. Switching between projectors and tiny print textbooks sometimes gives me a headache and-"

"How have I never seen them?" he interrupted her. "Why have you never told me?" His face was red, and his voice was strained.

"I'm sorry," she said, shoulders hunching to make herself small. "I didn't realize you'd be so-"

"How long until your lecture starts?"

"What?"

He stalked towards her and she shrank back. Not out of fear, never that, but he was so intense and she didn't understand why.

"How long," he repeated in a low voice, looking down at her with stormy eyes, "Until your lecture starts?"

"Um… like, an hour? I wanted to get there early though so I could-"

"Too bad, you're gonna be late."

The next thing she knew Lucy was being thrown against the wall and he was kissing her like it was the last time he'd ever get the chance. She squeaked as his tongue forced her mouth open, seemingly searching for the back of her throat. Her hair, pinned up in a modest twist, immediately started to fray apart. He grabbed the hem of her skirt, rucking it up high enough that he could grasp her thighs and hoist her further up the wall. His hips ground roughly into hers and holy shit he was hard as rock.

"Hot," he mumbled frantically against her mouth. "So, goddamn, unbelievably, fucking hot!"

She burst into laughter against his lips, shock and confusion melting into pure glee, adrenaline spiking her system as everything suddenly made sense.

"So you like them, huh?"

"Oh my gooood," he groaned. "If I hadn't already I'd propose to you right this damn second."

She laughed again, rolling her body against his and making them both groan. Lust flooded her system, her body responding instantly to his as it always did. He stood back from the wall, her legs securely wrapped around him, and stumbled backwards towards her desk. With one arm holding her steady he reached out and swept everything off the desk in one, broad swipe. She couldn't even bring herself to care about the mess. He sat her down on the solid, wooden surface. Reaching out he slipped his fingers between the buttons of her blouse and ripped the sides apart. Buttons flew off, scattering haphazardly along the ground. Lucy was so turned on she could barely breath. Wyatt didn't help the situation when he immediately pulled the cups of her bra down and latched his mouth onto an already hardening nipple. A warm, broad hand rose up to attend to the other. Her hands flew to his hair, taking hold of the soft strands and pressing him into her, as close as he could get. He rolled and tugged and sucked and she couldn't help the soft, high-pitched noises that escaped her. When he finally pulled away his hair was as wild as his eyes.

"This is really a thing for you, isn't it?" she grinned sinfully. "You're hot for teacher."

"So what if I am?" he growled, shaking fingers fumbling to open and shed his jeans.

"You were a bad boy in school, after all," she teased. "You told me that. Maybe it was on purpose. Maybe you wanted to get called in after school for a… private meeting."

"Shut up," he rumbled.

She grabbed his head and forced his body against hers, rubbing up against him and whispering in his ear in a breathy voice. "You want me to change your grade, Mr. Logan? You're gonna have to earn it." She bit into the lobe of his ear and his whole body shuddered.

"Gonna fucking kill me," he choked out, then kissed her again, perhaps just to stop the flow of words, the fulfillment of fantasies not even he realized were so strong. Together they worked to pull the ex-soldier's jeans and boxers down. Finally, Wyatt hauled her skirt up to her waist, ripping the tiny scrap of lace underneath clean off her. Relishing her gasp, and the way her eyes had turned black, he gripped her hips and jerked her forward to the edge of the desk. The desk that happened to be the perfect height for…

"Oh fuck," Lucy cried out, her eyes falling shut as he rammed into her in one, solid thrust. His head dropped to her shoulder, biting into it to stop himself from crying out as well. How did this always feel so good? A frenzied pace was set, more items being thrown from the desk as one of Lucy's arms scrabbled for purchase behind her, the other wrapped around her lover's shoulders. His grip on her hips was bruising but she kept calling for more, faster, harder. Sweat dripped down Wyatt's plaid-shirted back and he thought his head might explode alongside the rest of him just from the sight of her. Lucy, his Lucy, black pencil skirt up around her waist, white blouse ripped open, chest heaving, and those damn glasses highlighting her huge eyes. Eyes currently closed in ecstasy, long, black lashes fanning across her flushed cheeks, mouth wide open and panting. He took advantage and found her tongue with his, their cries muffling together as they quickly peaked, hot bliss melting their very bones. Lucy's arm gave out and she fell back onto the desk, Wyatt bending to follow so that they lay chest to chest, Lucy's legs dangling off the desk while his barely stayed planted on the ground.

Lucy started giggling first, the strung-out, blissful giggle that he loved so much, that he tried to make happen after every time they made love. It always made him laugh too, her happiness infectious.

"Holy shit, Wyatt."

He hummed into her neck in response, not yet ready to form words.

"If I'd known glasses were such a thing for you…"

He latched onto her neck, sucking lightly and slurring a "So hot…" into the soft skin.

"Apparently," she snorted.

He finished his kiss with a nibble, then started peppering kisses all along her neck, up and down, up to her jaw and cheeks.

"Hot!" he repeated. "Hot hot hot."

"Okay, okay," she squealed as he dipped to kiss her nose a couple of times.

"Sexy beyond reason," he kissed her lips. "Shouldn't be allowed. Bad girl." He kissed her deeply, not allowing her to reply for several long minutes. When he finally pulled back she sighed, a hand rising to stroke his cheek, card through his hair.

"Bad girl, huh?" she smirked. "Just like you're a bad boy."

He nodded, hair flopping over one eye, making her stomach flip. She reached up to play with it.

"If we're so bad, maybe next time I should bring out the big, wooden, ruler," she husked.

He gasped above her, gaping down with his mouth hanging open, pupils blown.

"Are… are you serious?"

She quirked an eyebrow and gave a one shouldered shrug.

"Oh my god," he groaned, attacking her neck once more. "Even hotter! Impossible. Inhuman level of hotness…"

She laughed heartily, shoving his shoulders in a playful, faux-attempt at throwing him off.

"Wyatt," she whined. "My lecture."

"Told you. Gonna be late."

"If you give me a hickey I can't cover, I swear to God…"

"Give your students something to talk about."

"Wyatt!"

"Wait, you're right… oh my god I just realized, you teach college kids."

"Uh, yeah… always have…"

"Holy crap, you teach college boys."

"There are indeed some males of the species in my classes, yes."

"No!" Wyatt cried out, suddenly wrenching the glasses off her face.

"Hey!"

"You can't wear these!" he ordered. "Never again."

"I need to!"

"No! I'll get you contacts."

"Wyatt!"

He rose up on his hands, framing her slim body, still half lying on the desk. He looked down at her seriously and said "Lucy. As a former college age boy… I can guarantee you, 100%, that these glasses are a grave impediment to those kids' studies."

"Oh really."

"Yes. Yes they are. Because there is no chance in hell that any heterosexual male, hell, any man or woman, who likes women, would be able to concentrate on class if you're up there in front of them, wearing these glasses."

She rolled her eyes and rose up onto her elbows. "You're exaggerating."

"I'm not! I swear to you. I know you refuse to believe how goddamn beautiful you are, but the rest of the world sees it. I know for a fact that even without glasses, every single one of those students has gone home at least once after your class and-"

"If you finish that sentence, Wyatt Logan, you might not have a fiancé anymore."

He clapped his mouth shut. "Well it's true."

"And the last thing I ever want to think about."

"Let's think about that ruler business again," he smirked.

"It's at the university. Don't have it here."

"Damn."

"But since I'm going to be late for class anyways…"

"Yes?"

She sat up and accepted his hand to help her hop off the desk. She slid her hands over his hips to squeeze his bare backside. "Well you ruined my shirt." She gazed up at him with luminous, innocent eyes. Plucking the glasses dangling from his fingertips, she put them back on. "Help me get… dressed, again?"

The End.

Author's Note: Google "Abigail Spencer glasses"

You'll understand.

You're welcome.

Also figured posting today on Halloween was rather appropriate. They don't even need to dress up or roleplay… the hot professor/sexy soldier clichés are REAL! '

Hope you enjoyed. Please let me know.