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The attempt to let things cool off between the pair of you by wandering away from the group to secure another drink proves…. ineffective. Too much sugar, too much drink, had already quieted the voice of wisdom to less than a whisper, and amplified the lustful pleading you’re all but certain the entire group can hear keening inside of you. Maybe if you returned his jacket rather than continue to have the spicy scent of him encompassing you….
The group parts when you return, your water half gone already for your desperate attempt to flush the lascivious thoughts from your system, your heartbeat ratcheting up again as you step into the space provided beside him.
No, says your head. Careful, says your heart. Yes please, says the pulsing heat between your legs.
It was the way he’d licked his lips as he’d stepped away from you after helping you into his leather jacket, his glance falling away from your face to not-so-subtly dive down your body towards the floor. It’s the way he can’t stand still next to you, hands shoving deep in his pockets before flying free again, loose to tell a story or just sweep through his slightly curling hair. It was the way he’d momentarily leaned into your ‘accidental’ contact made as you shifted beside him, the way he keeps checking your proximity, adjusting his own stance to meet yours.
The smarter thing would have been to say your goodbyes hours ago, retreat to the safety of your place alone. Yes, the smarter thing. Instead you’ve delayed, remained, testing just how close you can toe the line before stepping over it. Delayed leaving to the point that leaving becomes an issue in itself. The way out has become a gridlock, bodies blocking every possible pathway and keeping the doors opened wide, a brisk flow of air tunneling in to chill the crowd.
It means keeping his jacket a little longer. The evening air, snaking through the press of bodies, draws a different type of shudder from you as it sinks it’s teeth into your exposed flesh. You may be wearing his leather jacket but your dress leaves plenty more uncovered.
ooooh - you mutter, taking a step back as you wiggle, trying to suppress the way your teeth want to rattle within your head. Layers would have been the better choice, but then you’d wanted to see if you could make his jaw work all evening, see if his eyes would linger.
“Steady.”
His quiet command sends another shiver through you, and you look back at him over your left shoulder, feeling the way he corrals you away from the strangers hemming the pair of you in with his outstretched arm. It draws you closer, that arm wrapping around your right side. The crook of his arm may hold his jacket closer but it’s all the contact he’s allowing - his hand remains relaxed, held loosely away from your body.
Not for long. Not if you have anything to say about it.
You tease your lower lip between your teeth, looking away from him to find his hand as you press yourself into his body. Not a mistaken nudge by the crowd. Not a shiver, not a shove; a deliberate step. He inhales against you, adjusting his stance - and as much as you’d like you see his face right now you keep your focus down, watching his hand as you guide it down to make contact with your hip, the way his fingertips flex slightly into the soft material of your dress.
Careful, whispers your head. Is this wise?, asks your heart. Fuck yes, moans the rest.
He tucks his head down to put his mouth closer to your ear, his words rasping in his throat as he clenches his jaw, “You’re killing me.”
His fingers dig deeper, tracing inward as you shift your weight, grinding your hips into his. It’s maddening to watch, and edges you further towards recklessness. You loose a giggle, tipping your head to smirk sideways at him, “You can’t die yet. I’m just getting started.”
“If we weren’t stuck here I’d…” He adjusts his hips, making it all too clear what the end of that sentence would be. When you arch into him in response he breathes out through clenched teeth, a soundless word leaving his mouth before his lips spread into a devilish smile. “If you don’t quit that we’re going to be arrested for public indecency.”
You give him a small nod, feeling his hand reluctantly slide from your hip as you reestablish a bit of space between the pair of you. But it’s impossible to simply stand there with your body screaming for his, consequences be damned. Following the movement of his hand you turn to halfway face him, feeling the slow movement of the crowd shambling towards the exit doors.
His eyes have dropped down to your waist and you watch as he lifts his hand to rub at the stubble around his mouth and chin. Swallowing, shakes his head, eyes flicking back up to meet yours before he drops his hand away from his face, “Nope. New plan. Find a side door and call the car to meet us up the street.”
“Up the street?”
His hand finds yours and then he’s pardoning himself through the crowd, pulling you along behind him. There’s still a wait at the next exit the pair of you find, but not nearly as congested. He traces circles on your palm with his thumb, flashing you hungry smiles as he leads out onto the street.
Free of the building he turns, releasing your hand to be able to snag you by the pockets of his jacket, guiding you back against the building and slipping his hands beneath the leather material to meander over your torso. His lips find yours as his hands drift, tracing down your sides to pull your hips against his again. He murmurs as he breaks away, breathing hard against you, his body giving a little jerk with the emphasis he puts on the words, “Fuck. The car…”
“It does help to let them know where to find us, doesn’t it.”
Chuckling, he nods, nipping another light kiss on your lips as he seeks out his phone. He steps away to initiate the call, giving off a full body shudder as he shifts from one foot to the other. He glances up and down the street as the line is picked up, scowling at the news of where the car currently is, and then tipping his attention to you before relaying a set of instructions.
Skip free of the traffic, the madness at the front of the building. There’s a quieter street a few blocks away.
You study him, drifting towards him as he ends the call. “That doesn’t take that long to walk…”
“I know,” he pauses to slip his phone into the pocket of his jacket, before slipping his hand beneath it to find the edge of your hip again. His hand scoops around, tracing lower as he pulls you closer, “I’ve got other things planned while we wait.”
