I know, I'm already late with my other fics, but this one wouldn't leave my mind till I started it -_-. Hopefully you'll like it as much as I have fun writing it :3
Thanks to my half-beta for checking this
Disclaimer: I only own my twisted imagination :P
Blackout
1
Her head hurt. She felt sick and dizzy, obvious signs of a hangover. When she tried to move, the mattress seemed to waver like a boat and she groaned, making a mental note NOT to follow her stupid friends again to crash a party at a nightclub with a fake ID anymore. Only bits and parts of the previous night were emerging in her mind –loud music, the smell of alcohol… why had she been drinking already? Ah yeah, she had spotted that stupid boyfriend soon-to-be-ex of hers making out with that stupid so-called best friend of hers; and had been stupid enough not to confront them about it. Instead, she turned to alcohol. Damn, she should have known better, she chided herself.
She rolled on her back and rested an arm over her face to hide her eyes from the light. Whatever had happened afterwards must have been tiring; her body was sore and arching, and she could barely keep her lids open. Thank God they didn't have school today; she could stay in bed a little long-
Wait.
This wasn't her bed.
It didn't smell the usual vanilla she used for the laundry but musk and fir tree. The mattress didn't even feel right. This weren't her usual sheets either. And… why was she naked?
Teresa Lisbon opened her eyes wide and straightened, using the sheets to cover her upper half. She was in a small bedroom with creamy wallpaper on which were hung world maps, containing the basic furniture –chair, desk and closet- and various article of clothes were spread everywhere on the floor. Male clothes.
Oh dear. This was definitively a guy's room, and not one of her brother's or her soon-to-be-ex boyfriend's. Dread started to spread within and she seriously wondered where she had landed. She didn't recall entering this room, even less undressing, and she had notthefaintidea who had brought her there.
The sound of someone walking behind the door made her froze. A quick glance around and Lisbon realised her own clothes were nowhere in sight. She didn't have time to grab the closest shirt either -the handle was already turning and the door opening. So she breathed in deeply, tightened the sheet firmly around her waist, making sure her chest was covered, and waited.
"Good morning sunshine!"
A blond man in his early twenties –Lisbon sighed in relief, at least she hadn't been picked up by some old cranky pervert- entered the room whistling cheerfully, holding a tray supporting two glasses, a bottle of orange juice, bread and cookies. If the young woman wasn't feeling so shocked for waking up freakingnaked in a stranger's bed, her jaw would have dropped at the sight. The guy had the most attractive features, clear eyes –blue, grey, green? She couldn't tell from where she stood- she had ever met, and a perfectly fit body. Rather in the average height and a veeeery nice chest and leg-.
Wait.
How couldn't she realise it earlier? The guy was half-naked. Heck, the guy was almost naked! He was only wearing a pair of red boxers fitting him perfectly and allowing to imagine quite clearly what was underneath, given the bulge at that particular place… Her cheeks reddened at the thought and she suddenly wished she could disappear in a rabbit's hole. This was NOT happening. She had not gotten drunk enough to spend the night with a complete –hot- stranger. Had she?
"You sleep like the dead" the blond guy went on, ignoring her speechlessness. "You might want some painkillers too" he added, putting down a few pills in a small plate next to a glass of water. "And I figured some good breakfast should wake you up. Unless you want to do something else?" he added with a suggestive smirk.
Lisbon opened her mouth to say something –anything!- but words wouldn't come out. She had just come across the bluest eyes she had ever seen and her heart wouldn't stop beating at erratic pace. When he didn't have an answer, the man sat on the border of the bed, very close to her. She didn't even think of flitching away when he raised a hand to cup her cheek gently, leant forwards and kissed her lips. His mouth was soft against hers, almost testing. He smelt good. He was warm. Tender. For that unique reason, she first enjoyed the gentle pressure by closing her eyes. But when his free hand started to creep behind her back and touch her bare skin, she got cold feet and crawled backwards, keeping a firm grip over the blanket.
"I take it's a no." He muttered, half-amused half-disappointed. He turned towards the tray and picked up some bread for himself before adding: "Go ahead, help yourself."
"Who are you?"
The words blurted out of her mouth before she could even stop them. The young man glanced at her with a puzzled expression and frowned.
"Oh. You don't remember?"
She rolled her eyes and shot back:
"I wouldn't be asking if I did."
That answer made the guy smile in amusement.
"Hangovers are a shame, aren't they my dear? Anyway, my name's Patrick. As you probably realised, you are at my place."
The young woman tried to recall any detail in her defective memory, anything that would confirm Patrick's tale. But she couldn't. Seeing she seemed even more lost, he added in a compassionate tone:
"We met at the nightclub last night. You were drunk out of your mind already. You have been dumped by your boyfriend or you saw him cheating on you, something like that I guess… given the way you were talking about him, I think it's the latter. Since I was the only guy resisting your death glares, you eventually agreed to dance with me."
Lisbon's lips formed a thin line. So far, it made sense. If only to get rid of him afterwards, she would have followed for a while before backing up. Except that given the circumstances she found herself right now, she mustn't have backed up. As if reading her mind, Patrick added.
"Like I said, you were quite drunk. I don't think you were in your right mind when you kissed me."
The young woman's cheeks flushed red. The young man's grin widened.
"Things got a bit heated up afterwards." He leant closer. This time she didn't move but her hand clenched the sheet covering her. "I brought you here." His face was inches of hers now. Her heartbeat had never gone so wild before and her breath got caught in her throat, dreading at what he would say next. "And we had passionate intercourse all night long."
That did it. She pushed him hard enough to make him fall from bed. Patrick hit the ground with a grunt and she crawled further against the wall.
"You're a jerk" she hissed, narrowing her eyes at him.
"So was I told numerous times" he replied, unfazed. That made Lisbon even angrier.
"Just tell me where my clothes are and I'll leave. I wouldn't want to bother you any longer."
"Oh but you were definitively no bother my dear" he replied cockily. "Still aren't by the way."
She realised the blanket had slipped a little too low and he was eyeing her chest with a lecherous gaze.
"You dirty old pervert!" Lisbon hissed again, tightening the grip on the sheet and, pulling it, stepped out of the bed. "Stop taking advantage of the situation! Heck I don't even remember how I ended up here. You could be spilling lies for all I know."
"Hey, you were the one who jumped me first" Patrick said nonchalantly, moving towards her. "You pushed me against the wall and kissed me. Who knew such a small thing like you would be so fierce in bed?"
He stopped just in front of her, and Lisbon had to raise her head to meet his eyes.
"Fuck off" she replied coolly. Perhaps she was fierce in bed –how would she know anyway, she couldn't remember- but if he went on provoking her like this, she would show him how fierce she could be right now too.
As if sensing the change of mood, he stepped aside to let her pass by. Lisbon headed towards the door and was almost out when she head him say:
"Your clothes are in the washing-machine. I prepared spare clothes in the bathroom. First door on the left."
The young woman paused and turned back to glance at him. He was still watching her and the lust was still there, but there was also a softer glint, like… compassion and pity.
"I don't feel guilty about picking you up at the bar, or seducing you or even having sex with you when I had no idea who the hell you were and you were obviously upset. But keep in mind I wouldn't refuse a blatant invitation, not even from an eighteen year old with a fake ID." Her eyes widened in surprised and he added on a softer tone, as explanation: "Your high-school card fell from your bag when I picked it up, Teresa. Go take a shower. When you're done, I'll drive you home."
-B-
The water was starting to run cold, but Lisbon couldn't care less. She was done a long time ago with the soap and the shampoo, but she still wanted to stay –to hide-in here a little longer. She couldn't face Patrick. She couldn't face him yet. Memories were slowly remerging and she wanted them all before choosing the appropriate manner to act with him. She couldn't decide if he was a major jerk with a hint of sweetness inside or awkward with girls. Perhaps it was both.
He did bring her breakfast in bed and didn't insist when she backed off.
But he also made it clear she was just a good shot and treated her like a kid.
Lisbon sighed again, and closed her eyes. Pictures and images of the past night came back, and she concentrated to get a full mental viewing.
Why couldn't the guys leave her alone? She wanted to wallow in her miseries for a few moments. Why did they keep arriving like bees attracted to honey? The blond one was different though. He was handsome and smart, and he knew it. He had beautiful eyes, and a voice that gave her shivers. Plus, he seemed nice. One dance couldn't hurt, right? But once there, she wasn't so sure. His beautiful orbs turned into a predatory mode, his body brushed hers repetitively and his fingers lingered in place they shouldn't really… He was turning her on. Triggering feelings she never felt before, not even with Walter. Butterflies were flying widely in her stomach and her breath was irregular. He never made the first move, so when she had enough of the teasing, she pinned him against the wall and kissed him with no restraint, wanting to melt into him. His hands were becoming more and more adventurous, slipping underneath her shirt, caressing the soft skin of her back and close to her bra…'Your place or mine?' he had asked on a deep, husky tone and she hadn't hesitated one bit when she had replied 'yours'.
She remembered climbing in his car –or rather, falling flat on the seat. She remembered admiring his face in the light of the lampposts while they drove through the dark streets, reeling in the burning feeling his hands had left over her skin. She remembered how intense his gaze had been when he had closed the door behind him, how he pinned her against the wall, how he dispossessed her of her top and bra, how he devoured her neck, her collarbone, sucked her bare breasts and caressed inside her thighs though her jeans with his amazing hands, and how she could only moan at his ministrations, how she clung to his shoulders like her lifeline when he bucked his hips against hers, how desperate she had been to feel him all over her and inside her. Then, it had been his warm, bare body pinning her to his bed, and after a few first minutes of pain, pleasure ripping through hers. Many times. His flashing, lusting eyes when he had possessed her were returning clear as daylight in her mind; as well as her whimpers, pleading voice, begging for… more.
Hot tears formed in her eyes as the water kept falling over her. While she was supposed to be clean on the outside, Lisbon admitted she had never felt so… cheap. Dirty. She had acted like a goddamn whore, giving herself on a silver plate. No wonder that Patrick guy had jumped on the occasion. She tightened her fists against the tiles of the wall and clenched her teeth. She had brought this upon herself alone.
I never refuse a blatant invitation.
Right now, she just felt like screaming.
Beginning's okay? Please let me know and I'll update fast ^^
Thank you for reading :)