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The crowd exceeds the fire code, no doubt about it. Everyone is compacted so tightly together that sardines are smug about the room they have in their can. Dancing consists mostly of jumping up and down in place, which most people seem to be doing. The music resonates loudly around the club with the bass acting like a pulse for the living entity that is the crowd. However, the noise level doesn't keep me from finding his heartbeat.
A useful skill. A skill he taught me.
I watch him laughing with his friends, people I don't know, people I don't want to know. His smile is incandescent and those around him respond to it whether they know him or not.
I hate that smile, hate him for sharing it with strangers and not me.
I wait, knowing that my patience will eventually pay off. After a while he breaks from his group and heads toward the restrooms. His departure gives me time to work my way through the crowd and get into position.
He comes out a few minutes later and I stand in his path. At first, he doesn't see me, but when the object in front of him doesn't move, he looks up. Emotions quickly pass over his face. Recognition, joy, although it's quickly followed by fear, then anger.
He says nothing.
He has cajones, I have to give him that, but I was an Army Ranger and no neo-hippy, witch-doctor punk is going to out stare me.
I say nothing, just simply gaze down into his features.
He crosses his arms and I have to fight not to smile. My little guppy is defying me.
The crowd pulses around us, forcing us closer together. I can feel his breath hot against my chest, can smell his essence in the swarm of hundreds, can taste him by simply opening my mouth.
I hear his breath stutter as he watches my tongue caress my lips.
He growls at me, attempting bravado. "What do you want, Ellison?"
"Mine," I say, clearly, distinctly.
He looks startled, then tries to move around me. "Like hell."
"Mine," I repeat.
"Not any longer."
"Guide."
"Fuck you."
"Okay." I almost laugh at his expression of self-righteousness.
"You threw me away, Ellison. Whatever we had is long gone."
The crowd surges and my hips are shoved against his, even as the tide washes back, thrusting him into me. Skimming my hand down his chest and over his jean-covered crotch, I gently caress his lie. "No, it's not."
He closes his eyes for a moment, trying to center himself; but I thrust against him again, keeping him off balance.
He raises his hands, almost as if trying to ward me off. "I'm not doing this."
I move forward, using my body to push him back through the multitude of dancers to a little recess in the wall. "Yes, you are," I whisper in his ear as I put my arms on either side of him, effectively blocking any escape.
He tries to shove me, but he doesn't have enough room to get leverage and I am immovable. "What do you want from me?" he pants, before trying to escape again.
"Mine," I repeat. I can see his frustration growing, but I will continue to say it until he understands.
He shakes his head. "We're not partners anymore, Ellison. We're not roommates. Hell, we're not even friends."
"I know," I admit, because I do... know, that is.
"Then what the fuck is this?" he demands, thumping me in the chest with the back of his fist.
I catch his hand and bring it to my mouth and softly caress his knuckles with my lips. He closes his eyes and his heartbeat begins to race. I pull his hand back and kiss the inside of his wrists. He opens his eyes; my lips are only inches from his and I take the opportunity presented me.
He rears his head back out of reach and gasps, "No."
"Yes," I say, closing the distance again.
"I won't be used," he says, evading my mouth again, although my body presses length-wise against his, preventing any physical escape.
"Yes, you will," I whisper over his lips. "Just as you'll use me."
"No," he whimpers, but I swallow his protest.
I plunge my tongue into the warm depths of his mouth. He briefly fights me, but his body eventually gentles and stills. His mouth opens willingly and I plunge in again and again, tasting his sweetness, teasing his tongue until he responds with hunger. I run one hand up into his long hair and grip the curls, pulling his head back and exposing his neck. Even as I mark him, my other hand roams down his body, exploring, until I reach my destination. He's hard, like steel in my hands. His body arches into mine, silently begging for more.
"No," he whimpers again as my hand cups and teases the length of his need.
"Yes, Blair. It's going to happen."
"No, Jim. No," he practically sobs against my lips.
"Why?" I demand, thrusting against him, establishing a rhythm.
I smell the salt of his tears, although none have been shed.
"Because you don't love me."
I bring both my hands up into his hair and pull his head back, forcing him to look me in the eyes. "Says who?"
He pants harshly. "Sex won't change what we are, Jim. It'll only tear us further apart."
My hips never stop their movement against his. "No. Sex won't change what we are. We will change what we are."
He closes his eyes and shakes his head. "It's too late."
"Is there someone else?" I demand, stilling suddenly, having not considered the possibility.
"No," he whispers.
I growl. "Then what?"
"I can't be invisible anymore, Jim. I can't take the brunt of your anger, can't-"
I cut him off by gently kissing him and loosening my grip in his hair. "I know," I assure him. "I've fought this attraction for so long, tried to make myself believe I didn't really care. But I do, Blair. I do care. I ache to touch you. I ache to feel you within me, to fill you. I ache to see you by my side. I can't do this by myself anymore."
He's still panting. "Do what, Jim?"
"Live without you."
I see it then...see the surrender in his eyes.
I clasp my hands around his ass and lift him...lift him until our bodies are in alignment...then thrust against him. He takes one long, deep, shuddering breath and grips my shoulders, even as he arches off the wall into me. I'm anything but gentle. This is about claiming, marking what's mine. I lean forward and bite through his layers of shirts. My teeth scrape his chest until they find the hidden nub. He's mewling in need, biting the juncture of my neck and shoulders, even as he slams his hips into mine. He pulls back and chews on my lower lip, tugging on it, as he scratches down my chest with his broad fingers.
"Sandburg!" I growl, exploding against him, vaguely aware of his quiet gasp of completion.
I lean him against the wall, although I don't release him. Sliding one hand around him, I slip it into his pants until I feel the dampness of his release. Withdrawing my hand, I lick the evidence of his climax. He shudders, his eyes heavy with desire.
As my own panting decreases, I become aware of the crowd behind us. No one is looking our way; everyone's attention is on the stage and the band. I'm tempted to take him right here. I see the look of alarm in his eyes, but he chuckles as he sees my grin. "Patience, grasshopper."
"Fuck patience."
I see the need growing in his eyes, the need to claim me as I have claimed him.
I swallow hard and let his feet touch the ground. I turn to plow his path through the crowd, but he stops me with a hand on my back. I turn and look at him, but don't speak.
"You better not be messing with me, Ellison."
"I'm not," I promise.
"I won't be thrown away again."
"You won't be."
"I won't take anymore shit from you."
"I know."
"I'm in charge now."
I nod, putting my fate in his hands as I did three years ago.
"Take me home, James, before I'm no longer responsible for my actions."
Sweeter words were never spoken, and I turn to forge our way home.