"Come on boozy, lets get you out of here," Peyton mumbles as she supports the weight of her very drunk and very broody ex and leads him out of TRIC. Things had been off with him since Lindsey had left him at the alter but she'd never seen him quite this bad. How strange it was for her to be supporting and helping him now, when she knew very well that it wasn't her that he was drowning his sorrows over. She'd made a point of being the bigger person in the Lindsey-leaves-Lucas-because-of-Peyton situation, so this was just her way of holding to the "I'm letting you go to be happy" bargain. That doesn't mean it made it any easier for her to watch him grieve over someone else, esepecially the someone else that he got with right after they broke up. Actually, right after he decided that "someday" meant "no"and left, taking her heart with him. These were all the thoughts running through Peyton's mind as she cafeully put him in her passenger seat and drove him home.
When they reached his house, she maneuvered him out of the car and to the front door where she had to fish around in his pockets until she found his keys. Skillyfully, she dragged him to his bedroom, opened to the door and turned on the light. She couldn't help her breath from catching in her throat at the sight of a room she'd spent countless hours of her teenage life within, a room that she'd barely seen since she'd returned to Tree Hill a few months ago. She tried walking him to the bed when suddenly his weight became to much for her and she tripped, half pushing him onto the bed with her landing sprawled on top of him. She began unbuttoning his shirt and couldn't prevent the memories of how many times she'd done this before, in this very spot all those years ago. Although in her memories, his hands were working just as furiously as hers were. Stop. She couldn't be thinking about this now. Lucas was in love with Lindsey. Lindsey. He'd made that quite clear. She was just being a good friend...
"Peyton," Lucas mumled in his drunken state and cupped her face in his hand.
"Shhh Luke, you're drunk," she said, quickly bringing his hand away from her face. She couldn't have any more distractions. Not when she was this close to him. Practically on top of him. A position they'd been in many times before, minus all of the clothes they were both currently wearing. God was this going to be difficult for her.
"But you're so pretty...," he slurred as he tried to grab her face again and pull her down to him. She quickly swatted away his efforts, leaving him momentarily hurt until he went back into his dreamy drunk state. She continued to remove his shirt and then moved on to his pants. Oyy. He continued to reach for her; her hair, her face, her arms. Each time she shook him off. It was hard enough being this close to him. She couldn't let herself get caught up in his meaningless drunkenness. Her next move was going to be tricky, getting him further into bed and under the covers. Still straddling him, looping her elbows under his armpits to try to wiggle him up the bed to his pillows where she could then pull the blanket around him.
"Mmmmmm," Lucas hummed as his hands found her thighs from beneath her dress that had been exposed in their current position. He began sliding them up and down her legs, catching her off guard, causing her to scoff once again.
"Easy there, nice hands," she said, taking each of his in one of her own and removing them from their workings.
"Nice legs," he said with more clarity that anything he'd uttered in the last few minutes. For the first time she actually looked down, straight into his eyes and saw the seriousness in which he'd meant those last two words. It melted her. The way it always used to, from their first exchange to all the times they'd mocked themselves, using the words again. She hadn't even meant to say what she had, it just fit the action. Then again, that's what had happened that first time too. Eyes locked. Blue met green and the rest should have been history. Yet here they were again, so close yet with so much between them. In this moment, she couldn't help but let all of her bottled up feelind flow back to her, blurring the lines between her head and her heart.
His hands slowly made their way further up her thighs to her hips, her arms, her shoulders, and finally again her face. She didn't stop him, couldn't get herself to let go of his gaze since they'd locked just moments ago. He pulled her face down to his, where they continued to stare at each other for seconds that felt like minutes, hours. She forgot he was drunk. Forgot he'd broken her heart, only to get his own hurt by someone else. She could feel his hot breath on her face and wanted nothing more than to close the gap between them, to brush lips against his and wrestle his velvety tongue with her own. But something again broke within her and she forced herself to look away. It couldn't happen like this. No, she wouldn't let herself fall into him again. She pushed herself off of him, climbed off the bed and readjusted her dress. She then turned back to look at him just as his look of confusion in her leaving turned into one characteristic of the calm of sleep.
She reached down and ran her fingers through his hair. "Oh Luke, I never wanted this for you," she whispered. For us, she added to herself. She leaned down and kissed his temple and turned to leave. Just not quickly enough. From her touch, his eyes had reopened, and he grabbed her wrist before she had the chance to walk away.
"Don't go, Peyton. Please...please," he almost pleaded. God, how could she deny those baby blues? But how could she stay? Then again, nothing had to happen. At least that's what she told herself, although she knew in her subconscious getting back into bed with him would lead to something.
"Why Luke? Why now," she inquired.
"Because, I need you," he stated simply, his clouded blue eyes telling every sad story there ever was. Who did she think she was kidding, trying to reason with a clearly drunk man? Who knew if his directives were meant to address her, or rather she was in his vicinity when he needed someone the most. Likely a combination of both. Either way, she took his begging as a pseudo apology for all the shit he'd put her through recently. Through wishful thinking and interpretation, his sudden need for her felt just as good to her as any apology. It broke down her walls, the way that he'd always been able to.
She took a deep breath and tried not to think. Once again, her head and her heart were at war, and as usual with battles concerning one Lucas Scott, her heart was winning. She took a step closer to the bed and he wrapped his other hand around her arm, and slowly pulled her back to bed. She sat down on the edge of the bed and turned herself around so that she was spooning with him. He held her with one arm and she lay there beside him for what seemed like an eternity. It was just nice to be near him again, to be the one thing he seemed to need at that moment. She thought he'd fallen asleep, hearing his breath becoming much more relaxed, and decided to stay a little longer, partially for selfish reasons of wanting to be in his arms again. Yet, she wanted to make sure she didn't fall asleep. She wanted to be gone before he woke up. Maybe he wouldn't remember any of it. And she'd be okay with that. He wasn't hers anymore and she didn't need any more awkwardness between them of him feeling sorry for making her stay. He didn't want him to feel yet another regret regarding her. It just hurt too much.
Peyton was about ready to start to move to leave when she felt it. His hot breath on her neck, becoming more ragged and more ragged. Before she could think to move, his lips were on her, tracing up the back of her neck to the spot behind her ear that he knew drove her crazy. The arm the was around her held her closer until there was no space between them, intimately close. She turned over to face him, which caused them to mold ever closer into each other, a feat she didn't think possible. She felt all of him now. Placing a hand on his chest, she placed some space between them. "Luke, what are you doing?"
"I need you, Peyton," he repeated and without hesitation pressed his lips against hers fervently and with obvious built up passion. It was a kiss that caused heat to flow all over her body and cause her to tingle in all the places that only he could ignite. Any chance of thinking clearly was slowly dwindling. If she wanted to protect herself, she'd have to work fast and break away. Like a band-aid. But is that what she wanted. World war 4 million began. Her body seemed to want him more than she could ever imagine and her heart swelled from his sudden attention toward her. Even her brain started to trick itself into thinking that she could get away with this. That maybe he wouldn't even remember in the morning. That thought almost hurt as him not wanting her at all; that he was so drunk that he'd have anyone or that she was that forgettable. She quickly forced those thoughts out her head. His kiss was growing deeper and she felt his tongue beggin for entry into her mouth, and his hands slowly pushing up the material of her dress to get better access to her legs, the back and stomach. She followed his lead, letting him remove her dress, helping him lift it over her head, giving him more access to her body. All at once she realized she'd given in to him. What's one night of pleasure out of the hundreds of miserable ones she'd had lately, even if it was only by taking advantage of Lucas' drunken pursuits of her. If this was the last time they could ever be together like this, she might as well just get it out of her system, feel everything he makes her feel.
They continued to kiss, reacquainting with each other's bodies and all the places that made them each shiver with pleasure or cry out for more. Soon the rest of their clothes were gone, and they became one for the first time in over 3 years, quickly able to fall back to their old patterns, not having forgotten how it was for them to be together. It was lust filled, fiery and passionate, without a hint of awkwardness. They knew each other too well. When it was over, they lay there beside each other, quietly. They were still entwined, her leg over his, his hand splayed across her stomach, drawling lazy circles with his pointer finger. No excessive cuddling, yet still no awkwardness. Just the calm after the storm, content still being next to each other. Too tired to move, she broke the second promise she'd made to herself tonight and forgot to escape before the morning confusion hit. Which it did. Hard.