(no subject)
“You know what I miss?” Kristen asked, turning in the direction of his body. He was standing across the room, his boxers low on his hips, smoking a cigarette and watching the lights of Vancouver spread out beneath them.
He turned to her, smoke curling around his lips. “What do you miss?”
“Don’t take this the wrong way,” she warned, drawing up her short black hair and tying it back best she could in a rubber band.
He rolled his eyes. “This already sounds promising.”
She threw a hotel pen at him. He dodged it, snickering. “I miss…” She chewed on her lip, wondering if sexual satiation was speaking for her at the moment. She had kept this man in bed for hours, only getting up to smoke or eat or refuel or breathe, and now that he had finally cried mercy, she was already speaking with her desire.
He stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray, dragging the butt back and forth before turning to look at her, the last traces of grey clouds leaving his nostrils. “What is it, sweetheart?”
She held out her arms to him, and he smiled at her before scooting to the bed and crawling back over the sheets on all fours. He made a cage around her body with his and nuzzled his nose against her neck before dropping a chaste kiss on her lips.
“If you miss my sweet loving already, you’re going to have to wait. I don’t think I have any body fluids left.”
She snorted. “Shut up. No, I miss… okay, I’m just going to say it.”
“I’m waiting with bated breath.” He dropped to her side and propped himself up on his elbow, staring at her intently.
“Do you ever miss like, I don’t know, sneaking around? The whole… desperation of it all?” She said it all in a rush, on one breath, like she was afraid to breathe in his disapproval mid-word.
His eyebrows went together in the middle, and he dropped off his elbow. She watched the way his biceps moved in the twilight, shadows casting against the inverted and protruding muscle. She felt like a glutton sometimes, how she could never get enough of him. It had been a year and then some, and she still craved his skin.
“How do you mean?” he said finally, running a hand across her hip. She breathed out quickly; if he was touching her, he wasn’t angry.
“Just… don’t you think it added a level of excitement? I mean, okay, wow - I sound horrifying. I did not like cheating, hated it, the guilt consumed me… but the desperation was… you know? Something.”
He ran his hands through his hair, tugging sharply at the tips. “I can’t say with full sincerity I miss anything about what transpired. I wouldn’t trade it, doing it again… because I have you, and that’s all I ever wanted. But it was… I can’t… I still have trouble forming words about how difficult it was for me. Sometimes the prize doesn’t totally rectify the journey to claim it.”
She pressed her face against his chest, the soft hairs on his skin tickling her face. They were so happy now, it was sometimes easy to forget they had once not been. “I don’t mean anything like that,” she whispered, pressing kisses anywhere she could reach. “Never mind. Forget it, seriously.”
“I’m just afraid I don’t understand, love. We have plenty of desperation, what with all the sneaking around we do, and not being able to really touch in public. I think that fuels a lot of…” He gestured to the thrown clothes, the rumpled bed sheets, and one knocked over lamp. “This.”
She could feel her face burning, so she decided to bury it in his neck so he couldn’t see. Because of this, she missed the devilish glint in his eyes as he thought over her words.
*
Kristen leaned back in her seat as Use Somebody trailed through her ears. She sucked on her cigarette and laughed at Jackson and Rob’s antics, all the while aware of Rob’s proximity. The Kings of Leon’s music was always charged and electric, and she felt her body move in waves as it rolled through her.
“If you rub those thighs together any harder, you’ll alleviate all my fun,” Rob said as he leaned down and whispered in her ear, his lips tickling the outer shell.
“I can’t help that you’re late to the party,” she whispered back.
He groaned; she felt the rumble against her ear. He turned around quickly, scanning the arena for wandering eyes, and then leaned into press his mouth to hers.
The song changed to the single everyone recognized. The alternating riffs of the guitar, the heavy drum beat that seemed to plant itself right between her legs.
Lay where you’re layin’, don’t make a sound… I know they’re watchin’, they’re watchin’…
The man knew how to kiss. She didn’t know if it was because he had spent the last year learning her gasps and sighs, learning how she wasn’t a huge tongue fan unless she was getting it rough as he held on to the headboard, or how little nips were fine but bites were unacceptable - or if some other woman, someone he had loved before her taught him how exactly to angle his head and press softly, roughly, chastely, wantonly.
He threaded his fingers through her hair, squeezing tightly as she gasped against his mouth as it moved in tandem against her own. Then he pulled back, shifted in his seat and ignored her the rest of the concert.
Ignored her!
He ignored her throughout the after party too, the late night bar hanging with the actual band members of a group she had admired for years. But she couldn’t even concentrate on that.
It was nearly three AM when she got up to use the restroom. She had been downing Heinekens all night, pissed off at her disheveled, infuriating lover. What he was playing at she didn’t know, but she had no idea how he could go from attentive boyfriend who made love to her all day long to smoldering man who pinned her with his eyes but said nothing to her.
After relieving herself and taking a good long look in the mirror - nope, still had the mullet - she opened the door to the bathroom and stepped out in the dimly lit hallway, wiping her wet hands on her jeans before taking a step forward.
A hand came over her mouth and she was drawn back against a hard, warm body. The hand muffled her scream, and then lips and teeth were raking across her ear. She wasn’t really scared - she could smell his familiar scent, tobacco and sweat and deodorant - but she was exhilarated.
“You better be quiet, sweetheart,” he whispered tauntingly in her ear, pressing her chest against the wall before putting the whole length of his body against hers. “There are people around. Cell phone cameras. Anyone can see us at anytime. And I’m not willing to wait for seclusion.”
Even as he said this, she knew he would back off immediately if she even hinted she was uncomfortable. But fuck, he also knew that she been gunning for his touch for hours, and when she was turned on, she was less likely to think straight.
“I think you’re the one who makes all the noise,” she said brazenly as soon as his hand left her mouth. She pushed her bottom into his crotch, and he groaned and pressed up against her.
His hands came around her middle and he fumbled with the buttons of her jeans.
“Please, can we…” She groaned as he planted a hot, wet kiss on her neck. “Go somewhere a little more secluded…”
He grabbed her arm, moved her two feet to the left, and shoved them both inside the women’s bathroom. They clung to each other, making out furiously as they settled themselves inside a stall that was lined with graffiti and numbers and bible verses.
Her jeans fell into a pool around her ankles, and he was trying to take his own off but couldn’t because she would grasp him roughly through his jeans every time he almost got them. He laughed against her mouth eventually, nicotine and stale beer fanning across her face.
“I have to be inside of you,” he whispered. “Please let me.”
Her hands fell away immediately, and she reached down into her underwear as he stripped down from the waist under. She watched his erection bob with each of his movements, and she trailed a finger through the desire-laden liquid heat, moaning a bit as his eyes never left the progression of her finger. He couldn’t see much through the underwear, but when her hand flattened against her sex and she groaned, he knew she had put two fingers inside, and it was his turn.
Her underwear went down and then she was up against the wall, one foot propped against the toilet paper dispenser and then other hitched around his hip. She was scrabbling against his shoulders for leverage when he thrust inside without warning, and the desire she had been burdening allowed him to slide all the way.
“Fucking, fuh… Kris.. fuh…” He was totally unintelligible as he began his slow thrusts, making sure she was balanced before pulling her head to the side with her hair and attaching himself to her neck.
It was a little bit awkward, and sometimes they’d have to laughingly slow down to change strokes or directions (“ow, that’s my cervix, Robert!”) but the fact that she was just so fucking turned on by the man who constantly met her needs spurred their encounter to an almost frenzied pace.
The slapping of skin was the only noise for awhile, along with the guttural groans and the wispy sighs, until the door creaked open and two feminine voices were heard.
They stilled immediately, but the two girls did not come for the restroom - they came for the mirror.
“Did you see Rob Pattinson out there?” one crowed, and Kristen laughed a little against his neck as he picked up his pace again.
“Like you can fucking miss that sex on legs,” the other one agreed. It was Rob’s turn to chuckle.
“I’m sex on legs,” he whispered into Kristen’s ear, and she nearly lost it to laughter as his thrusts continued to move faster.
“Yeah, but of course, his mousy co-star was attached to him all night. God, did you see her vying for his attention? How pathetic. He barely said a word to her all night.”
“It was so rude of you,” Kristen whispered to him in agreement. But then he hit her sweet spot, and she gasped a bit, and he groaned at the feeling of her tightening. He put a hand over her mouth and began to thrust up instead of directly into her so the flimsy walls of the stall wouldn’t shake.
She came seconds later, still listening to the two women chatter inanely about Rob and herself. Rob muttered a fuck and then followed her, biting down on her neck to stifle his noise.
They laughed a bit as they picked up their clothes. The two women were still gossiping, and Kristen didn’t know how to deal with it - how would they get out? She was exhausted and didn’t want to wait, and -
“Go,” he whispered, patting her butt. “Trust me.”
Grinning devilishly, she stepped out of the stall. She knew she looked a mess and completely and properly fucked, and couldn’t suppress the grin as the two women stared at her in horror.
“God, it’s really hot in here tonight, isn’t it?” she asked conversationally. She got to the door, and then said, “Hurry up, Rob.”
Rob popped out of the stall, straightening his beanie and pulling down his shirt. He nodded to the two ladies, who were both so star struck and horror struck they didn’t even think to whip out their cell phones - which is what she had been counting on.
“Evening,” he said cheerily, and then took Kristen’s hand.
As soon as they left the bathroom, they ran for it, laughing all the way.
*
As dawn peeked over the horizon, Kristen yawned sleepily against Rob’s chest, showered and sated and ready for some shut-eye.
“They have no proof,” he laughed suddenly. “It’ll be just another rumor of two gossiping broads in a bar. It’s delightful. It’ll show up on some horrible tabloid cover that no one takes seriously, if they do tell, and then it’ll fade into obscurity. It’s brilliant.”
Kristen grinned. “You are a sexual deviant. And you are the brilliant one.”
He hummed happily, pulling her up closer to him. “How did the desperation feel?” he asked teasingly, but she could see the underlying insecurity that was ever-present.
She nodded. “I liked it. But do you know what I like even better?”
He shook his head, and so she dropped a kiss on his lips. “No guilt.” And another. “Still no guilt.” And one more. “And now I’m just feeling a bit aroused.” A longer kiss. “Definitely aroused.”
“Are you saying you’re happy I can scratch your itch guilt free now?” he asked her with a laugh.
“No,” she said simply, lying back down to sleep just to prove it wasn’t about sex or lust or desperation. “I’m just saying I’m happy.”
He fell asleep with a smile on his swollen lips.