Phoebe should be making better decisions, for someone with her intelligence.

She was pressed against a wall inside of the women’s bathroom at New York Public Library. She couldn’t catch her damned breath- not with you chasing her lips like she was air and you couldn’t breathe, which was actually a little ironic.

Finally, the brunette managed to get you off her for long enough to get in a breath. You started kissing her neck. Your mouth was warm as you kissed from behind her ear to the collar of her shirt and back again.

Her head hit the metal, divider between the stalls with a loud thump, and she winced. You pulled back long enough to apologize, and then went back to kissing her.

Phoebe had taken you to her sanctuary, of sorts. It was initially a study date- you were barely passing Science. About an hour in, you had said you were going to the bathroom. Phoebe, not wanting to be left alone with the eight year old boy looking at her like she had two heads because she had made the mistake of holding her girlfriend’s hand in public.

You, being you, had started a makeout session in the hopes of having sex. Not only did Phoebe not want to fuck where people took a shit, she also didn’t want her first time to be had like it meant nothing.

As stupid as it sounded, she didn’t think it was wrong to, one, wait until she was totally ready, and two, to have the day she lost her virginity be special. She guessed you were so cavalier about it because it would not be your first time, and also because you first time had been when you were fifteen in a MacDonald’s bathroom by your then-boyfriend on his birthday.

She had, in fact, laughed at that story. Then, seeing the look on your face, had held you until you swore you weren’t mad at her.

After a few more minutes of debating whether or whether not to give up her pride and values for a hickey, she pushed you off.

“As much as I want my first time to be with you, and believe me, babe, I do,” Phoebe started, taking your hands and kissing your right palm. “I don’t want it to be in the women’s bathroom of New York Public Library.” You sighed and rolled your eyes, but you understood.

Before you had that total letdown of a first time, you had fantasized about it being slow and sweet and romantic. You got it, you did. Didn’t mean you didn’t want to fuck Phoebe, though.

You kept kissing her neck, one hand coming to cradle her face, and the other to gently squeeze her ass.

The two of you didn't have to have sex, but it wasn't a crime to kiss your girl, now was it?

Maybe to some people, but it was the twenty-first century. Those biggots could such your dick if they had a problem with your relationship.

Your lips moved lower on her to her collarbone, and she let out a shaky breath.

"We really should get back to our studying..." she mumbled, though her tone didn’t make it sound like it was exactly what she wanted to do. Your fingers threaded through the shaggy tresses that fell to her shoulders, fingers rubbing across her undercut as you tilted your head.

A shiver ran down her spine when you bit her. "Or," her voice was barely audible, "we could keep doing this. No, no we shouldn’t.”

With a final moan and a little whine, she pushed you away. You sighed, but you understood. You helped her fix her bra under her shirt, and combed your fingers through her curls.