Shameless
Characters: Laxus/Mirajane
Genre: Romance, M
Summary: Neither of them cared too much that night.
Shameless
She's too drunk to care, but still too sober to blame it on the alcohol as her back hits against the cold wall of one of the dirty cabinets in the ladies' restroom.
Her hair is mussed in weird angles, her red lipstick is all over her lower face, her dress is down to her waist and her panties are long gone. Again, she doesn't care.
Her attention is directed towards the pair of hands that holds her by the buttocks, the teeth that scrape the skin of her neck and the throbbing sensation between her legs as he thrusts in an out of her. She's having a hard time keeping the volume down, the women showing up to take a piss being her witnesses.
He doesn't care either as he slams into her mercilessly, driving her closer to insanity. Her hands are clinging desperately to his nape and shoulders and it's just fair if she leaves nail scratches on his back when she surely is going to have handprints on her ass for a long time.
Her skin crawls when he lifts his head up to look directly into her eyes. He was all smirks before, now he's dead serious, like a predator watching his prey. His intense gaze makes her shiver and lick her already swollen lips in anticipation.
She would moan his name if she knew it.
They come together, which feels odd for her because she usually blows up first, but she thinks she prefers it that way. Still panting heavily and skin prickling with sweat, she manages to exit the club's restroom with wobbling legs and frantic heartbeat.
Mirajane realizes way too late she didn't give him her number. She doesn't know whether it's a good or a bad thing that they would never see each other again after her shameful – but still not regretful – behavior.
All she knows is that she would never forget the night she decided to go wild and liked it.
.
.
"Mira-san, please meet our new associate, Mr. Laxus Dreyar."
She turns to greet the newcomer, but instantly freezes when she recognizes his face. He is also looking at her with brows furrowed and confusion in his eyes, until realization hits both of them in full force.
She should be blushing with embarrassment. She should be wanting to bury her face deep down on the ground and never look up. Instead, she only bites her lower lip and asks:
"Do you still have my panties?"
He should be shocked at her boldness. He should be struggling to keep his composure. Instead, he nods and replies:
"Yes, I do."