Thanks for tuning in everyone! I hope you like this chapter. No dinos in this one, but I wanted to get some good Owen/Crys time in here before we get into the movie. Please let me know what you think!
Chapter Four
A warm body pressed against her side, Owen's warm breath ghosting against her ear as he retorted softly, reproachfully, "Uh, I think I did, lass."
She bumped his hip with hers, shaking her head woefully, "You're shit at a British accent, love."
"But I'm amazing at everything else," he rested his chin on his folded arms as they sat atop the railing, batting his warm, hazel eyes up at her. His lips curved into a delightfully dangerous grin, "I think you owe me for saving your-," he brushed his scruffy chin against her arm, cackling as she shied away from him with a whine, "lovely skin."
She pursed her lips to hide a grin, shooting a contemplative look to the sky, before offering him a devilish smirk of her own, "What'd you have in mind?"
Turns out Owen was pretty cheap when it came to collecting a debt. A few drinks at Margaritaville - that he ended up putting on his tab anyway - and he was the happiest of campers. Crys sat, cosied up against him, his arm draped loosely over her shoulders, in a small booth in the corner of the bustling bar. Barry sat across from them, knocking back another beer and cackling over Claire's gobsmacked reaction to Crys's surprising win over the Nike reps.
"I swear, wide-eyed, jaw dropped 'round her ankles, when they came back laughin'," she snorted into her drink, rubbing her nose with the back of her hand. Her accent was thicker than normal and her grin was shit-eating. "Looked almost like she wanted ta cry. Prob'ly already had my pink slip written up an' ready to go. She's prob'ly tearin' it up as we speak."
"You know it never woulda happened, Crys," Owen replied, his fingers slipping into her hair and giving her scalp a rough rub, "Masrani worships the ground you walk on."
"Kinda like you?" she swatted him away, retorting with a laugh and winking exaggeratedly at Barry, "and you?"
"Damn, you caught us," the Frenchman laughed, tipping back his bottle once more, "Owen, we should probably move our shrines. She was this close to finding them this afternoon, ami."
"Yours, maybe," the scruffy trainer replied, shooting her a wink and prodding her cheek with she grinned and flushed, "mine is so well hidden, even the girls wouldn't be able to find it."
"So you're tellin' me tha' if I gave 'em one of my shirts, they wouldn't be able ta sniff it out?" she inquired, playing with the straw of her mudslide and shooting him a dubious glance, "you don't have nothin' with my scent on it?"
He feigned an innocent expression for a moment before a wicked laugh escaped him and she jabbed a finger in the air in triumph, "A-ha! I knew it! I'm missin' my favorite shirt, ya know," she added to Barry in a stage-whisper.
He tilted his head, nodding knowingly, and assured her, "I've told him to give it back, but he doesn't listen."
"Who doesn't listen?"
"Lowery!" Crys cheered, lifting her bright blue gaze to the bearded, bespectacled computer geek. She raised her glass and he raised his own, patting Barry's shoulder as the lads greeted him and offered him a space at their table.
"Ah, no thanks, I was gonna go see if Viv wanted some company," he gestured to the other side of the bar, where Vivian sat, rather uncomfortably, with Claire, who was ranting, rather vehemently, about Crys, no doubt, "she looks like she could use a knight in shining armor."
Before Owen could make some sarcastic quip about Lowery's lack of any sort of armor, Crys straightened and peered over the dark-haired man's shoulder, "Ah, aye, anyone talkin' ta Claire needs all the help she can get. Invite her over if ya want."
"I just might," he replied, though his grin didn't reach his eyes and he moved away from the group, oblivious to her sigh and disappointed shake of the head.
"Poor, besotted lad," she lamented, resting her chin in her hand and watching him approach the pair, his shoulders tight and his stance uncomfortable, "how does he not know she's got herself a fella?"
"He's oblivious," Owen shook his head, resting an arm across her back, fingers absently stroking her shoulder, "there're plenty of other girls on the island."
"We've got one right here for him," Barry nodded to Crys, his eyes falling on the gently massaging fingers, which stilled at his announcement. Owen glared at the Frenchman over the oblivious Brit's head even as she snorted and shook her head adamantly, "Ah, no; he's cute and all but he's too… indoorsy for me."
Owen laughed into his beer, wiping it from his nose and goatee, peering down at her and repeating, "Indoorsy?"
"Aye, he's always on his computer an' phone an' tablet an' whatever other technology he can get his hands on," she looked up at him, an easy grin on her face, "he screamed when a fly landed on 'im the other day."
"In his defense, the flies here are massive," Owen fired back, though the tension that tightened the skin around his eyes eased back and a his smile grew warm, "don't laugh! I swear I saw one the size of my-"
"On that note," Barry laughed, rising to his feet, "I need another drink. Can I interest either of you in one?"
Owen waved him off and Crys raised her bottle to show off the remaining three quarters of her own drink; Barry nodded and made his way through the crowded building back to the bar.
Crys shook her head fondly, watching him go and leaning back in her seat. Against Owen. They remained in companionable silence for a moment before she noted conversationally, "What would be so wrong wiv me datin' Lowery, mister?"
Owen let out a scoffing laugh, gesturing toward the man as he scratched awkwardly at the back of his neck beside Vivian. To be fair, she too appeared uncomfortable as Claire continued to squawk, her face flushing red.
"That's not an answer," Crys laughed, turning to face him and watching him intently, "why not?"
"You said so yourself!" he replied raking a hand through his hair and drumming his fingers on the table in sudden agitation, "he doesn't like any of the things you do."
"I said he doesn't like th' outdoors," she rebuffed easily, enjoying his discomfort as he stared, eyes narrowed, at the unknowing geek across the room, "he likes Game o' Thrones, thinks Marvel's better than DC. He loves Harry Potter, which I haven't been able ta get you into yet…"
"I watched the first movie," he protested quickly, quirking a brow and frowning.
"Yeah well what about the other seven movies and Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them?" she queried teasingly, laughing loudly at his widening eyes.
"There are eight of them?!" he exclaimed, "and what the hell is Fantastic… what now?"
"Well, I'm just gonna go talk ta Lowery about it," she shrugged, making to rise to her feet only to be caught around the wrist by the raptor's alpha. She settled down fairly quickly and rounded on him, drawing one leg onto the booth between them. "I didn't have ta look at ya to know you don't like Barry suggestin' me an' Lowery together."
"How?"
Owen's tone was flat, his gaze burning, as he stared down at her. She flushed under the intensity of his gaze but carried on, her fingers brushing against his as they clenched the back of the booth beside her head. Slowly, his grip lessened and he turned his palm skyward, the smallest of grins tugging at his lips as she stroked her fingers along his skin.
"I know behavior, Owen," she replied, lifting a shoulder. She chanced another glance at his face and met his gaze, a sly grin of her own drawing her lips upward. "And I know you. Claire never woulda made you happy."
"No, she wouldn't have," he murmured, his voice an octave lower as he swallowed thickly and captured her fingers in his, "but you would."
"I thought I already did," Crys quipped, her heart in her throat as he laughed and twined her fingers with his. Grateful that she was used to sudden movements from her animals, she didn't make a peep when Owen tugged her toward him. His arm slipped around her waist and drew her to his chest, his lips hovering inches above her own.
"Are you-"
She caught the back of his neck and drew him down to meet her, their lips crashing together in a somewhat sloppy, mind-blowing kiss. Tongues tangled and her fingers tugging at his hair forced a low groan to escape his mouth, his hand creeping beneath the hem of her shirt.
Breathless, she pulled away from him, offering him a shit-eating grin, "Were you seriously gonna ask me if I was sure I wanted ya to kiss me?"
He let out a satisfied laugh, his thumb stroking the corner of her mouth as he stared affectionately down at her, "Well, I didn't wanna assume. You'd've ripped my tongue right outta my mouth or something!"
"Only if you ask nicely," she winked, elated at their evening took. She ran her hand around his neck to his chest, running her fingers through the chest hair that poked up out of his gray henley, "I think we should probably discuss this somewhere more private, though, don't you?"
"Definitely," he replied in an instant, nearly taking her with him as he rose to his feet. She shoved him away with a laugh; didn't need the entire island staff seeing him tote her into the night like a caveman, right?
Not that I'd mind that one fuckin' bit, she grinned, following him out of the booth and glancing around for Barry. She spotted him at the bar, snorting as he raised his beer and sent her a wink from beside Lowery. You sly French bastard. I love you, mon ami, I truly do.
Owen drifted back over from the bar, offering her his arm and bowing low, "Well, Lady Muldoon, your bungalow or mine?"
/
Crys and Owen stumbled through his front door, her back slamming into the wall and knocking a few books from the shelves against it. She pulled away, staring down at them and muttering an apology. Or attempted to anyway; she captured her lips once more as soon as she turned her head his way. She went willingly, her tongue dancing with his as he caught her beneath the ass with one arm and drew her up into his arms.
Legs wrapped around his waist, she pressed herself flush against him, moaning as he dropped his mouth from hers to her jaw and down to her collarbone.
"Fuckin' hell, Owen," she breathed, "who ya been practicin' on out here? The girls?"
His laugh reverberated through her body and straight to her core, his lips grinning against her heated flesh, "Did you ever doubt my skill, Ranger Rick? I am Starlord after all. The greatest lover in the universe."
"How could I have been so naive?" she teased, dragging her nails along the nape of his neck and earning a sharp nip in response, "you're a terrible host, though. Didn't even ask me ta take my shoes off."
"Well, see, in this bungalow, there's more to it than the shoes," Owen grinned, his pupils blown wide with lust when he drew away from her skin to stare up at her. He moved them to the couch, depositing her on the well-worn thing and seating himself at her feet. He tugged at her boots and socks, eyes raking over her as he continued, "Shoes, socks, shorts, shirts… all gotta go."
"Well, at least I can still wear my undies," she winked up at him, catching one of his belt loops with her now exposed toes and drawing him down overtop her. He braced himself above her, peppering her face and neck with light, open-mouthed kisses.
"Mm," he hummed, shaking his head, "forgot to mention… those are never to be worn on premises. Sorry; it's against policy."
"Well, in that case…," she laughed, slipping her warm fingers beneath his shirt and tracing the plains of his chest and stomach, shuddering in delight and anticipation, "I'd better get movin'. Don't wanna get told off."
"The punishment is intense," he agreed solemnly, his eyes smoldering in the dim light, "you better do it."
"Oh, well, if it's that intense, maybe I'll go a bit slower."
"You like this shirt?" he queried, his finger trailing down along her cleavage, tracing the collar of her tank enticingly.
Shaking her head, she replied seriously, "Got twenty more like 'em in my-"
He caught it in both hands and tore it neatly down the middle, letting out a cackling laugh when she lifted her chest to shrug out of it without a single complaint. The next few moments were a flurry of activity, clothes removed and discarded until there was nothing standing between their bare flesh.
"Remember… how I said…," Owen grunted between kisses, grinding his hips against hers and earning a feral growl from her in response, "I was amazing… at everything?"
She hummed in response, hooking a foot over his narrow hip, pressing it against his lower back and drawing him even closer still. A hiss escaped him and he laughed, a low, dangerous, guttural sound that had her beaming in anticipation, "Wanna see?"
"You're still asking?" Crys questioned, quirking a brow and staring at him through a lust-filled haze.
"Just tryin' to, ya know, build up the anticipation," he nipped her chin, his hazel eyes flashing with desire.
"It's been buildin' for months, Owen," she retorted quickly, dragging her nails lightly over his back and causing his eyes to roll back, "let's cut the chatter."
"Yeah," he replied, nodding and capturing her lips once more, "yeah. Good idea."
/
A loud, persistent knock startled Crys awake. She blinked rapidly, taking in her surroundings and the curly mop of light brown hair resting atop her chest. Letting out a low, delighted laugh, she ran her fingers through Owen's hair, "Love, I think you have a visitor."
He hummed, stretching himself out over her, nuzzling his face against her skin. She shivered at the rough feel of his stubble against her flesh, but tugged at his ear as the knocking grew frantic, "You really should answer th' door."
"Don't wanna," he replied with a huff, pushing himself up on his forearms and beaming sleepily down at her, "I wanna stay right here and do this."
He dropped his face, kissing her slowly, languidly, until Claire's shrill voice cried out from the porch, "Mr. Grady, I know you're in there! I need to talk to you. Now!"
/
NicoleR85: thanks! I love writing the three of them! I love their little trio. Hope you enjoyed this one too!
NightlyRowanTree: Thank you for reviewing! I hope you liked this chapter!
Jag: thank you!