Unhidden Intentions

Characters: Laxus/Lucy

Genre: Drama (ish), strong T or soft M (as you can see, I'm having trouble defining what this is)

Summary: Lucy is feeling naughty tonight.

Unhidden Intentions

It was cold outside the guild.

Lucy watched the alight tip of his cigarette with a fascination that reminded her of that cliché about a moth being attracted to the flame. He was leaning against the wall, head tilted and watching her through the smoke with eyes narrowed to slits. The sole of his right boot rested against the recently renovated paint and was sure to leave a print Master Makarov wouldn't be so thrilled about.

"No."

Lucy wetted her lips. He could see right through her act, which made her feel stupid. Like a silly little girl in her silly little dress, trying to do something naughty because she knew daddy wouldn't like it.

Or in truth, she was already expecting all pretenses to fail because she wasn't dealing with a boy, she was dealing with a grown man and that was why she dragged her drunk ass out of the warm festivities in the hall in the first place, was it not? Lucy was tired of boys. She wasn't too self-entitled to think she was much more mature than boys, but there was something about men – this man in particular – that made her wish she looked older and wiser than she really was.

There would be no teenage games, was what he was really saying. No, he wouldn't let her have a puff of his cigarette because that wasn't what she meant when she had asked. He read her like an open book – another cliché – and she dreaded it and she liked it and she felt the heat in her lower belly pulsing as wild as the alcohol-filled blood in her veins.

She dared to look up from his mouth straight to the eyes still partially hidden by the smoke. She couldn't tell which color they were. It was both light and dark, showing everything and also nothing. Lucy bit her lip trying to conceal her frustration, childish was the least thing she wanted him to think of her.

There wouldn't be a single universe in which she'd be able to compete fair and square against someone like Mirajane in that matter, Lucy would come to realize the next morning. Mirajane, who was also both light and dark, angel and the literal devil, kind but firm, and oh so sensual and dangerous and mysterious when she wanted to be. Mirajane, who could navigate so effortlessly between the sweetest dream and the beautiful nightmare – a much more appealing cliché than the pathetic moth. Lucy felt trapped between her jealousy and admiration for the white-haired woman.

But tonight, with the puffy eyes the Take Over mage had been trying to hide and the six or seven shots of vodka martini Lucy had through the evening, she felt like at least trying to top the former's game. And maybe, with that bitterness lingering very clearly in his face, he would indulge her.

"Please?" she offered.

"Are you drunk, blondie?" Laxus flicked the ashes of his cigarette on the floor, unfazed.

"I'm not drunk enough," Lucy blurted out.

His smile was razor sharp. "Is that so?" Smoke came out of his nostrils in slow strands. He studied her like he was running through the options in a menu. She was feeling the force of that stare between her legs.

Lucy's eyes went back to his lips and she took an unconscious step forward. She could almost feel the taste of nicotine in her tongue.

She should feel guilty about her behavior. She should realize what a bitch she was to backstab one of her closest friends by flirting with her man as soon as she had heard about their breakup; should be ashamed of being happy while the barmaid hid in the restroom stalls thinking no one could hear her sobbing. But the tiny devil – oh, that mischievous alcohol-fueled devil – on her right shoulder kept whispering in her ear that it was okay to feel bold when you were drunk because you could blame everything on the booze later, even though you've been fantasizing about this for a while now; that no one could blame a teenager for misbehaving and if the adults decided to be condescending, then well, that was not for her to take responsibility for other people's mistakes, was it?

When Laxus tossed his cigarette on the floor, Lucy unconsciously licked her lips. She just wanted to stop being a goody two-shoes for a minute and go for what she really wanted, nobody needed to know.

With no warning, Laxus raised his right hand, long, calloused fingers closed around her chin and her heart skipped a beat. Her eyes fluttered as he lowered his head to meet her lips with his own and she could feel the thrill of kissing the Dragon Slayer deep in her soul.

His expert tongue found hers and sucked, swallowing her moan. The taste of tobacco was there, along with the scotch he's been downing all night.

(In the morning after, Lucy would think he'd also tasted of heartbreak and would pretend it didn't make it better.)

Kissing the lightning mage was better than her inexperienced mind had anticipated. Lucy knew he had the control, held all the power against her, he was dangerous. She wouldn't mind – no, she wanted him to take his resentment on her, even if he was pretending she was somebody else.

Sooner than she'd hoped for, his mouth left hers. Her trembling legs could barely stand straight when his lips full of moist brushed against her ear shell.

"Don't make me ruin a pretty little thing like you," his hoarse voice came out as a murmur that sent her skin crawling.

And then he left.

Lucy's knees finally gave in and she was left breathless, the dark woods surrounding the hill her only company left.

A/N: To be honest, I don't know how this idea came to me. I have strong negative feelings towards this ship, but I guess it wouldn't hurt to experiment with naughty!Lucy and breakup!Miraxus for a change. This will probably be my first and last Laxus/Lucy, but I hope the fans of this ship will like this piece.