Jughead and Archie were busy playing video games up in Archie's bedroom when Fred ducked his head in that night. They paused the game and looked up at him expectantly.
"I just want to remind you that Betty's going to be sleeping downstairs on the couch and I don't want any shenanigans. Leave her alone tonight, okay? I don't want to have to answer to Alice."
"Oh, no worries, Dad. I won't –" Archie started.
Jughead elbowed his best friend hard in the ribs. "Dude! He's talking to me. She's MY girlfriend, remember?"
Jughead shook his head. The audacity . . .
Jughead had been watching Archie's clock expectantly. That final minute was agony . . . just waiting for that final zero to turn into a one. YES! 12:01am. Their agreed upon time.
He crept down the stairs, his heart racing. He looked in the shadows for Fred lying in wait. He wasn't.
And there she was, her golden hair fanning out behind her, almost looking silver in the pale moonlight. He kneeled at the base of the couch and stroked it. Softly he said, "Wake up, Juliet."
She moaned and sighed softly, rolling over. Eventually she opened her eyes. "Juggie."
"Hey there. I'm here as you requested."
A wicked smile played about her face upon hearing that. But then, he leaned forward and kissed her and that was the end of that. Her hands easily found their way into his lush hair, free of its requisite cap, while Jughead's hand roamed south and passed over her breast, making her arch, wanting more. Craving his actual touch.
"Here, wait," she said, and paused. She pushed the covers out of the way and pulled her nightgown up, uncovering her breasts. She was exposed.
He looked upon her reverently, then bent down to kiss each nipple softly before running his hand over one, then the other. Soft, gentle caresses.
"Join me, Juggie," she said and he settled on top of her.
As he continued to stroke her breasts, she looked up at him and stroked his face, stopping briefly at each mole along one side of it to make a miniscule circle with one of her fingers, and then down to the ones on his neck, for which he gulped.
She loved him. She had already decided. She lightly but quickly kissed all of the moles on his face. And then . . .
"Juggie," she sighed and bit into his neck, right over the mole closest to his Adam's apple. He involuntarily squeezed the nipple he had just been caressing.
"Oh . . . Betty . . ."
Then she moved down to the one below it and pulled roughly on his skin with her teeth and not only did he squeeze harder, he outright groaned. "Betts, you're killing me here."
He started tugging at her panties. She helped him to take them off and he settled between her legs, his dark boxer shorts the only barrier between them. He pushed against her, already wanting release, but figuring she wasn't ready yet. It had taken so long the first time.
So instead, he captured her lips in a kiss, cupping both sides of her face. It was meant to be gentle, but she surprised him by trying to pull up his sleep shirt.
"Off!" she demanded.
"Yes, Ma'am," he said with a smile and complied. "Your wish is my command."
She took in the glory of his chest illuminated only by the moonlight outside, running her hands over its smoothness. "I want you, Juggie. All of you. Again."
"Me too," he smiled tenderly, remembering their first time. This was all so new and wonderful. He twined his fingers through her hair and drew her head up for a deep kiss as he started to move against her. She encircled her legs about his waist and pulled him to her, tighter and tighter. His hardness through the thin layer of cotton was making her feel –
There was a creak on the stairs.
"Oh shit!" Jughead exclaimed and dived over the couch.
Betty grabbed the covers quickly to make it look like she'd been sleeping all along and well . . . they happened to hide her panties quite nicely, too. At the last minute, she noticed Jughead's shirt, grabbed it off the floor, and tucked it under the covers as well.
Fred padded into the living room. He knew she was awake, she couldn't hide it. So, she just gave up and didn't even try.
"Hi, Mr. Andrews," she said, hoping she sounded calm, nonchalant.
"Everything okay in here?" Fred asked.
"Sure, Mr. Andrews."
"I thought I heard something," Fred looked back up the stairs at Archie's room. "The boys bother you at all?"
Jughead grinned wickedly from his hiding place behind the couch and held back a snort. This would not be a good time to give away his presence.
"No Mr. Andrews. Not at all," Betty said.
"Well, you let me know if they do, okay?" Fred said. "I know how young men can be."
Betty just nodded, trying to look solemn. "Thanks Mr. Andrews, I will."
Jughead was trying so hard to hold back a laugh . . . but he couldn't do it forever. Thankfully, Fred was out of earshot by the time it was audible.
Betty threw a pillow over the couch and clobbered him. "Stop."
"I have an idea," Jughead said, coming back around from behind the couch. He removed the covers, and pulled Betty off it with a flourish. He led her to the small bathroom, tucked away almost invisibly underneath the stairs.
As soon as the door was shut behind them he shoved her against the wall, dug his hands into her hair, and kissed her hard. Betty moaned and pulled up her nightgown – in their haste they had conveniently left her panties behind on the sofa, along with his shirt.
Jughead had his boxers down within seconds, he was so pent up. She crooked a leg up around his waist. She was ready too. Grabbing her thigh, and pulling her towards him, he shoved deep inside her.
"Oh . . . my . . . . God," she breathed and her eyes rolled back in her head.
"Yes," he said with a wicked smile and buried his head in her neck as he moved inside her, sucking hard enough on her flesh to give her a hickey.
She moaned a bit too loudly.
"That's going to leave a mark," he quipped and she weakly batted him on the arm, "Jug."
"Okay, I'll stop," he said and stopped, still buried to the hilt inside of her.
"No!" Betty exclaimed. "No, what are you doing? Please don't stop. I need more."
His only response was to start to move agonizingly slow inside of her and all of a sudden, she got very very wet.
"Oh, you like that?"
"I'd like it harder, faster," she said, frustrated, and dug her nails into his chest, demanding more with her body and not just her mouth.
Irritatingly, he only responded with a "no" and kept going at the same pace. But he reached up to stroke her soft cheek and she ran her fingertips through his unruly his dark hair. It really was a mess without that cap in place. Their eyes softened as they stared at each other, as he rocked inside of her gently.
"I . . ." Jughead started.
There was a knock on the door.
Startled, they just grabbed onto each other tighter, their coupling turning into a full body hug within a second.
"Yes?" Jughead asked in a shaky voice.
Archie's voice answered them. "Guys, you gotta keep it down. You're going to wake my dad up."
Jughead and Betty both let out sighs.
"Okay. Thanks, man," Jughead answered him.
"Anytime," Archie said and they waited to hear him finish padding up the stairs.
"You heard the man," Jughead said and tapped her nose lightly with his finger. "You've gotta be quiet."
And with the most wicked grin Betty had ever seen, the most agonizing thing happened – he slammed into her just like she asked him to – hard. And she was expected to stay quiet? The little trinkets on the shelf above the towel rack next to them started shaking, but they didn't notice. She tried to hold back her moaning as he pounded into her, but she just couldn't at first.
Jughead kept saying quietly, "Shh . . . shh."
And when she was finally able to contain herself, even though a flush was beginning to rise in her chest in anticipation of her coming climax, his hand trailed downward. Still slamming into her as hard as before, his thumb found the space between her folds and just . . . pressed.
She almost screamed.
He clamped his hand over her mouth and said forcefully, "Betty, you've gotta be quiet."
She quieted down but couldn't help letting out small moans as he continued to press. And press. He didn't back off. She was getting so wet. So very very wet.
She was almost –
There was a frantic knock at the door.
"Guys, I'm serious – I think I heard my dad. You might want to stop," Archie said from through the door.
Jughead, irritated, turned back towards the door and answered sarcastically, "We'll take it under advisement."
"Oh God, Juggie, no. Please. We can't stop," Betty whispered. He turned back to her and placed his cheek on hers.
"Don't worry, we won't," Jughead whispered into her ear moving his cheek over hers in a small circle. "We won't."
And with that he turned her around and bent her down slightly. Slammed into her from behind, and then pulled her hair back, biting her below the ear. Grasping one of her hips he just pulled her into him – again and again and again. And then shoved her against the wall, so her breasts were pressed tightly against it. He started to moan and breathe hotly onto the back of her neck.
"Juggie!" Betty was crying out. "Oh God. Please don't stop, please."
Her only response from him was a deep groan and deep, hard pounding. So hard and so deep she could feel his balls slam into the part of her that was already over sensitized from being manipulated by his thumb earlier. The figurines were shaking violently on that shelf again, in time to their rhythm.
She was on the edge.
He was so close he was starting to see stars.
One of the figurines vibrated loose, fell, and was smashed to smithereens on the floor.
Suddenly, the door opened on them, slamming into Jughead.
"Dude! What the hell?" Jughead exclaimed and pulled out of Betty immediately. She tugged her nightgown down frantically.
"Guys, my dad's literally coming down the stairs. Now."
"Jughead." They all heard Fred Andrew's stern voice from out in the hallway.
Jughead reached down and pulled his boxers back up and meekly peeked his head around the bathroom door and looked past Archie towards his dad.
"Put your shirt on," Fred Andrews said and chucked a gray S t-shirt at Jughead. It wrapped around his head. He hastily removed it and did as he was told.
"Betty," Fred said in that same stern voice.
"Oh no," Betty whispered, mortified. Jughead couldn't tell if she was flushing because of Fred or if he himself had made her that way. She tended to go red right before she . . .
Jughead waved her over to the door and put a supportive hand on her back as she faced her best friend's father. Fred had a pair of white panties crooked over his index finger.
If Betty could have turned any redder, she would have.
"I think it's time for you to go home."