Disclaimer: I don't own Danny Phantom – I never have and I never will, simple as that. You know exactly what would happen if I owned Danny--oh wait, it did happen! Silly me. ;)

Author's Note: I'm starting this collection up again, and I'm absolutely positive you will be able to find a lot, lot more from me coming up in the next weeks and whatnot. I hope you don't mind and all! How do you like this chapter? A bit steamier, no? ;) By the way, I'm finally half-way through the challenge! YAY!

Note: Aesthesiogen means something along the lines of having a good feeling, something pleasant to the touch.

015 : Passion

Rating : Light R

Theme : 30. Aesthesiogen

May 16, 2007

She felt bold, even alluring, as she traced her fingertips along the collar of his shirt, alcohol coursing through her veins. She felt no need to have a sour disposition; it was a time of celebration. On the one hand, she wasn't sure what she should be celebrating; her boyfriend's cologne kept drawing her in.

The circular table of the night club sat many smiling, familiar faces; the loud cheers and drinks raised helped celebrate a wonderful occurrence that only happened once in a blue moon: an engagement, between Tucker Foley and a certain Jazz Fenton, a surprise in itself. Everyone was laughing and joking with one another, reminiscing and making plans for the future, sitting and enjoying each other's company as the night drew later and later into the morning. The loud music of the club generally didn't fit the taste of the couple in question, but due to the nature of the situation, something loud and edgy was needed; loud and edgy was Sam's middle name, even to this day, so she was the one who chose the location to which they were all currently getting drunk off their asses–plus, she was the maid of honor, and she had obligations to uphold.

She didn't know what was with her, but the grin on her face would not leave as Danny's fingers threaded into hers, his thumb tenderly stroking the top of her hand.

"How much have you had to drink?" Sam asked, turning to face her boyfriend, meeting his cerulean gaze. "I don't think I've counted," she said, then added as an afterthought, "If I could count right now, that is, I would try."

"I think the real question is how much have you had to drink," he shot back, looking at the littering of shot glasses that stood in front of her. "Are those even all of what you've had?"

She grinned, chuckling, "Not a chance. I'm nowhere near finishing tonight." He didn't know if she was completely shattered or just had a good buzz, but he knew she was out of it; he secretly loved it when she let herself ease out of her usual formalities.

Laughing at the determination in her eyes, he kissed her cheek and replied, "Let's hope you'll be able to function tomorrow." He knew for a fact she would be tagging out of the ring any time now; she talked a big game, but with a body as small as hers, she was more vulnerable to the affects of alcohol than he would be.

Her gaze darkened and her thoughts turned dangerous, "I hope I'm not going to be able to walk tomorrow. What do you think?" Biting her bottom lip with a playful grin, she grabbed a full shot glass from the table and cleaned out the glass, tossing her head back while she downed the clear liquor. "I don't think it'll be from the liquor, though, but that's just my educated guess." Her tone was light and jesting, because she knew, even when she was drunk, how to push his buttons.

Following her train of thought, he groaned; if she kept this up, he wouldn't be able to take it, if at all. Taking a swig of the beer that was placed in front of him some time ago, he tried to move his thoughts far, far away from the hand which was creeping up his inner thigh. "Sam–" he turned his eyes back to her, to find that she was looking away innocently, glancing over in the direction of the bar.

"I'll be right back," she stated, then stood and sauntered over to the bar. His eyes never left her hips, swaying while she walked. God, he had it bad.

By the time she returned, her hands were full with two glasses of God-knows-what, and handed one to Danny. It appeared to be something fruity, but he didn't mind either way. She reached out and linked arms with him, and with matching grins, they each sipped their drinks.

Every so often she felt the gaze of another person in the bar grace her features, but she paid them no mind. Even Jazz, who had been trying to get the attention from either her baby brother or his girlfriend. They were desperately lost within each other and there was no way of pulling them out of it. That would take a crow bar.

Realizing that you can't drink so much without having to go to the bathroom, Sam quietly (albeit stumbling a bit) excused herself, giving mock-salutes to those at the table, and left.

Following Sam's idea, Danny followed in the same direction, heading towards the men's restroom. When he came out, he was met with a blur of black and wandering hands.

"Whoa," he said, backing up slightly, afraid he bumped into some random woman. However, when he focused on those sparkling violet eyes, a bit glassy due to alcohol consumption, he felt his heart skip a bit. "Hey."

"I love you," she whispered, smiling at him, kissing his jaw line. One hand caressed his cheek while the other dipped below the belt of his jeans. With every slow step backwards, Sam walked them to a hallway less traveled than the way to the bathroom. Her hand in his jeans dipped even lower.

Not being able to contain himself any more, Danny pushed Sam roughly up against the wall and forced his tongue into her mouth, capturing what was rightfully his. Her tongue met his with fervor, nearly growling at the much anticipated contact. Her hands immediately found themselves moving and untucking his shirt, then sliding under it, over his muscled chest, one of her favorite areas on his physique. She loved touching him, feeling the way his muscles usually contracted and relaxed underneath her feather-light touch. Now, however, she was far from being gentle, as she raked her nails down the front of his chest, responding to his pat on her thigh by raising her leg so he would be able to grasp onto it. Nestling closer than before, they fit together perfectly, as they had many times before. Their kisses grew more passionate, more desperate. The friction between them was electrifying and unbearable. There were too many articles of clothing between them, despite the fact that Sam's skirt seemed to be moving up higher and higher with every passing minute. They still were in a public place, and had sheer luck no one had come down the corridor to the back exit.

Breaking for air, they locked eyes, need evident in both; she dizzily smiled at him, then went on tip-toe to kiss his cheek, jaw line, and then his pulse point. "Voulez-vous couchez avec moi, ce soir?" she whispered hotly into his ear, knowing full well that he knew what she was saying, despite it being French.

His eyes darted to hers, taking in the meaning of her words. That was the final straw; and, by the look in her eyes, she knew it, too. They didn't even make it home.

End Note: Should I write more like those? Tell me what you think!

- A