A/N: Sorry it took me a while to update, I have been busy with tests and writing the new chapter of Symphony. I was wondering if the second chapter let you down because it didn't get as much reviews as the first one, but hopefully, you guys are still enjoying the fic. Well, I hope so, at least. Also, this is a smutty chapter, which means sexual content. Now, this is the second time I've written smut, so be nice. Enjoy your reading!
Here's the thing - a long time ago, I learned that the Universe likes to punish some people. Perhaps for fun, perhaps because they deserve it, but that's not the point; the point is, the Universe is always punishing people everywhere - with hurricanes, failed relationships, anything. It always finds a way to punish a certain someone with the worst thing it can find.
For instance, right now, the Universe is punishing me, punishing me hard. And with what? Rachel freakin' Berry, that's what. It's funny how things in my life work, I look for her, day after day during a week and when I finally let go, I meet her again.
And as if this wasn't hard enough as it is, she still has to look like this. Her dress is so tight, her legs are so long and her lips are so red and honestly, I've never liked red lipstick on the girls I go out with - your mouth gets all red and sticky when you kissed them, but she looks like a freakin' Goddess and I want, more than anything in the world, to kiss her, kiss her hard until her lungs burn for air and she begs me to stop.
"Do you guys know each other?" Santana asks, bringing me out of my thoughts as she gestures between Rachel and I with a glass in her hands. I open my mouth to speak, but Rachel beats me to it.
"Oh, yes. Finn and Ihave been involved with some..." She examines my body up and down with a smirk, hiding her mouth with the tip of her glass, which is filled with Martini. "Interesting business situations, haven't we, Finn?" I nod dumbly, watching her as she laughs into her drink while Santana raises an eyebrow at both of us, trying to figure out the true meaning behind Rachel's words, although I realize she gives up a few moments later, probably too drunk to care.
We all stand there for a moment, awkwardly staring at each other until Santana shrieks some guy's name and runs to the front door to greet him with a big, drunken hug. I look around and realize that Puck has already found someone to talk to: he has his hands around Quinn's hips and a huge smirk on his lips while she giggles something into his chest. Sam is already dancing with the tall, blonde girl - Brittany, I think - while doing these dorky steps and even I know that's bad, but Brittany doesn't seem to mind, she just giggles and slaps his chest playfully, earning a grin from him.
While I examine the room, Tina and Rachel talk about something while they dance, though it's not much of a dance as it is tapping their feet to the beat and moving around and for the first time tonight, I am left alone. I shrug my shoulders and take a second glance at Rachel, watching the way her breasts pop out of her dress and the way her hair falls onto her shoulders as she leans against Tina and laughs at something she said, before I walk over to the bar (yes, Santana has a bar at her apartment, go figure) and grab myself some shots of Vodka, drinking every shot fast, not letting the bitter taste hit my tongue as I drink it, letting the burning feeling scratch its way down my throat.
I learn against the counter and sigh as I look at the people in the room: some of them are dancing, some kissing, most of them are drunk, probably won't even remember this party in the morning, when they'll find themselves sleeping in some stranger's bed, struggling with their brain to remember anything from tonight.
I see Santana walk towards me, well, walk towards the bar and she shoots me a small smile, pouring herself a glass of a pink drink. She brings it to her full lips and takes slow, steady drinks of it, licking her lips as she finishes, battling her eyelashes at me while she does so. I turn red and turn away from her, letting my eyes fall on Puck and Quinn, who are now grinding against each other to the rhythm of the music.
"Are you having Finn, fun?" She asks in a slurred voice and man, she's drunk. She seems to realize her mistake and giggles, scrunching her nose. "I mean, are you having fun, Finn?" She leans against me, resting her cheek on my arm and looking up at me. I shrug nonchalantly and reply.
"So far, I haven't done much, but the party seems great. Everyone seems to be enjoying themselves." Santana giggles.
"It's cuz they're drunk!" She says a bit too loudly, gripping onto my shirt for her dear life and tugging at it. "Let's go dance!" And before I can protests, she drags me towards the dance floor, shaking her head and making "woo hoo" sounds while she jumps to the music, the loud beat getting to my ears and making me cringe while drunk people bump against me: this isn't the kind of party I usually go to and I'm feeling like a fish out of water.
"Dance, Finn!" She says but I shake my head.
"I don't dance. I can't dance." I correct myself shortly while she shakes her head.
"Of course you do! C'mon, just do what I do." And before I know what's happening, Santana leans her body against mine and begins to grind into me, waving her hips and swaying her head from side to side as the loud music plays. I hold onto her hips, trying to stop her but she takes it as a sign of encouragement and grinds onto me harder, singing the lyrics of the song in a slurred voice. I feel her turning around and before I know it, she's lacing her skinny arms around my neck and pulling me down forcefully, opening her mouth and letting her tongue show, trying to kiss me. I try to push her away, but before I can do so, I see Santana being dragged away from me by someone and when I strain my neck, trying to see my hero, my eyes widen: Rachel. She says something to Santana and points towards Sam and Brittany, who are still dancing together and Santana walks towards them, throwing her drunken body onto Brittany, kissing the blonde hair on her face.
Rachel walks towards me while I stand awkwardly, trying to process what just happened. She laces her arms around my neck like Santana did, but she doesn't seem drunk or desperate, so I relax under her touch, feeling her nails teasing the back of my neck as she looks up at me, making me get lost in her brown eyes.
"Saved your ass." She mumbles with a small smirk, pressing her body closer to mine so that our chests are touching. I nod down at her, my hands resting on her hips, almost like an instinct.
"Yeah." I agree. "Drunken girls scare the crap out of me." She giggles, biting her lip and raising a perfectly shaped eyebrow at me.
"A big guy like you, scared of small, innocent girls like us?" She teases. "Tsk, tsk."
I roll my eyes, though I can't hide the smirk on my lips. "First of all, innocent, really? I think not." She nudges my side with her elbow and I chuckle lowly, squeezing her hips softly. She looks up at me and opens her mouth to say something, but as a new song takes the room, her eyebrows shoot up to her hairline, a small smile forming on her lips as she looks at me.
"I love this song!" She squeals, humming along to the song. She sways her hair from side to side and I smirk, she looks cute like this: singing, carefree and with her hair all over her face. She scrunches her nose as two drunk guys bump against her, taking my hand in hers and mumbling something about finding a better, less crowded place to dance at.
She ends up dragging me to the corner of the room and smiles as she leans me against the wall.
"Perfect!" She says, turning around and placing both of my hands at her hips and unlike Santana, she doesn't grind into me, instead, she sways her hips in the air, throwing her head back sexily and singing along to the lyrics quietly, her eyes shut and her mouth open while she concentrates in the song and fuck, she's sexy. She seems so natural at this, her tight dress doesn't seem to stop her from moving freely, nor do her heels as she twirls on her feet with no problem at all. I can hear her voice as she sings.
"Oh baby, light's on, but your mom's not home, I'm sick of laying down alone, hey, with this fever, fever, yeah." She turns around so that she's staring at me now, pressing me against the wall a little harder, both of her legs stand between my own while she runs her manicured nails up and down my chest, looking up at me with dark, wolfish eyes.
"My one and own, I wanna get you alone. Give you a fever, a fever, yeah." She dances, moving up and down against me while dragging her hands lower and lower on my chest until they reach my stomach and just like on the first dance she gave me, her teasing hands stop above my belt. I look at her with wide, dark eyes and she smirks teasingly, biting her lower lip and battling her eyelashes at me.
"You know," She begins, talking to me in a husky voice while her fingers play with the buttons of my shirt. "For a preppy boy, you're pretty fucking sexy." I know I should be offended, but all I can think of is how sexy the word fucking sounds in her voice and how I'd like her to use it in another sentence with a different meaning. Perhaps, something involving medoing a certain action with her. Her hands snake down my chest, her skinny fingers playing with my belt loops as she speaks. "You are all shy and adorable... It's cute. It makes me want to..." She pulls me down by the collar of my shirt and gets on her toes to whisper in my ear. "Corrupt you."
I swear, it takes a lot of self-control not to come in my pants right then. "I... I..."
She laughs softly, pulling me closer to her. "Did I make you nervous, boy?" She teases with a pout and I simply stare at her, my mouth dry as she giggles at my expression; then, she takes a look around the apartment, examining the people there, probably checking if anyone is paying close attention to us and thankfully, no one is, so, not wasting another minute, she takes my hand in hers and leads me through the crowd, smiling and waving at some people she knows naturally, acting like she hadn't been proposing indecencies in my ear a couple of seconds ago.
Finally, we arrive at the balcony: it's a small place, there are some plants growing in small vases at the corner of the balcony and there's a wooden bench sitting on the opposite side of the vases, the city lights and the full moon illuminating our skin as she shuts the glass door behind us, sitting me down on the bench forcefully, her mouth twisting into a smile as I look up at her, waiting for her next move.
Unexpectedly, she begins to undo the buttons of my shirt, touching one by one as she does so and in a matter of seconds, I sit before her in my undershirt and jeans. She shakes her head and scrunches her nose at me and suddenly, I feel very self-conscious under her staring, maybe she doesn't like what she sees? She brings me out of my thoughts when she runs her nails on my abs and I feel my stomach clench at the feeling. She sighs softly, her head hanging to the side as she frowns.
"Why do you wear that?" She asks, pointing at my undershirt. "It's not even cold out here." And before I get the chance to reply, she slides the undershirt off my torso, her eyes wandering on my upper body in a way that makes my skin turn red and heated; I look down at my feet, afraid of what she'll think of the way I look without my shirt on but she rests her hand on my chin, pulling it up so that I can stare at her eyes and I see something in them I hadn't seen before: softness, tenderness. She leans in and without another word, kisses me right on the mouth, one of her hands caressing my naked chest while the one that once rested on my chin is now caressing my jawline.
The kiss begins soft, but it turns heated and needy with time, making me bring my arms and wrap them around her hips, pulling her down onto my lap so that she's straddling me, her tongue brushes against mine and I growl in satisfaction: I have never felt this good before from one kiss. I try not to think about how experienced she must be at this, human contact, exchanging saliva with strangers and instead, I focus on the kiss, my hands now sliding down her hips and finally arriving at her ass, squeezing the soft, fabric-covered skin with my large palms, and I can feel pride rushing through me as she moans my name into my mouth.
Finally, much to my disappointment, she pulls away and I can't help but to notice the way her chest raises and falls as she breathes hard, the kiss left both of us breathless. She wipes some of her red lipstick off my mouth with a smirk, looking down at me tenderly.
"Don't be insecure, Finn." She says softly, her voice husky from our previous activities. "You're so handsome." I can feel the affection in her tone and I blush under her praise, nodding and looking away from her.
"Thanks." I say, though it's not very honest and she doesn't seem to miss that. She sighs, looking down at me with her hands on her hips.
"You don't believe in me, do you?" I look up at her and though I don't say a word, my dull eyes speak for me. She sighs, shaking her head in disbelief while she stares at me. Suddenly, an idea seems to have hit her and she smirks, leaning in to nip at the skin of my neck. "Well, I guess I'll just have to prove it to you, then."
And then, the unexpected happens: she slides down on her knees in front of me, kneeling between my spread legs.
She looks up at me with a naughty smirk plastered all over her lips and I can feel her nails teasing the skin of my thigh and even though my legs are covered by my jeans, her touch sends an electricity wave through my veins, making shivers run down my spine. Her hands, so smooth and warm, begin to rub my inner thighs up and down, slowly and teasingly, almost like she wants me to burst into flames right there. She undoes the buttons of my jeans slowly, her eyes trained on mine the whole time; and though I don't think that it can get any hotter than this, I look down at her and let my head drop back with a groan of pleasure: she takes the zipper of my pants between her teeth and pulls it down slowly, looking up at me with lust filled eyes.
Now, the only layer of fabric holding me back are my thin boxers that don't do much to hide the massive erection I'm spotting in my pants. She grins up at me and reaches for the waistband of my boxers, tugging them down my ankles along with my pants so that I'm sitting naked in front of her, no piece of fabric covering my body now; I fear that someone will catch us, that maybe Puck or Santana will walk in on us and tell on us to everyone else, or worse, will want to join us; and though my mind is full at the moment, it all seems to leave my head as soon as I feel the smooth skin of her hands wrap around my shaft, rubbing my erect member up and down in a steady rhythm and I can't help the loud wanton moan from leaving my throat, she just feels so good.
"Uh, fuck." I growl in desire. Rachel's hands are strong and steady, the way they move up and down my cock makes me want to come right there, but I can't, I have to hold it together and prolong this sensation as much as I possibly can. She looks up at me from beneath her eyelashes and speaks to me while her hands move - her thumb rubs my tip, spreading the pre-cum that leaks out of it down my shaft while her free hand touches my sac, fondling it in a way that makes me want to cry from the pleasure.
"Does it feel good, Finn?" Hearing her say my name like this makes me want to blow my load now, but I can't, I can't let go, and I have to hold on to this feeling forever. I simply nod, not trusting my voice enough to speak something. "Do you like my hands on you, Finn? You like how my hands rub your cock up and down?" She smirks and fuck, I think I'm going to burst into flames right here and then. She is speaking so closely to my dick that I can actually feel her hot breath against my skin, making my erection twitch in her hands. She notices my reaction and giggles huskily, looking up at me.
"I'm going to sing for you now." What? I look down at her with my eyebrows furrowed together, not getting what she's talking about, I mean, is she seriously going to sing for me while she is giving me a hand job? That is awkward is so many ways.
I open my mouth to begin questioning her, but all that leaves my throat is a deep, husky moan because suddenly, my swollen tip is enveloped by something hot and wet and when I look down, her dark hair is covering my view but I can see how head is moving, bobbing against me and fuck, she took me into her mouth and it feels- fuck – it feels amazing.
At first, I'm able to control myself, gripping onto the bench I'm sitting on, gripping the balcony or anything else around me, but as her expert tongue slides up and down my skin and plays with the sticky substance that is leaking out of my tip, I can't help myself, letting my fingers snake into her hair and tug on it a little too tightly, but instead of cringing or denying the feeling, she looks as me and I am not sure, but I think she is smirking.
She takes me out of her mouth and lets her hand replace the feeling of her lips, rubbing me up and down while her other hand continues to caress my sac, stimulating me in a way that no one else has ever done before. "Someone is a little grabby." She says hoarsely and just thinking that her voice is like that because of what her mouth was doing to me a few seconds ago sends shivers down my spine, and I simply tug onto her hair a little tighter, making her giggle softly. She's so freakin' sexy I can't even handle it.
Rachel takes me back into her mouth without a warning and I can't help bucking my hips in surprise, gasping at the feeling of her saliva contrasting with my hot, swollen skin. I'm leaking through my tip and she uses the substance to make her, um, job, easier, using her tongue to spread it all over my dick, making my length slide easier into her mouth. She sucks on me noisily, sloppily even, but I don't care, because the feeling is overwhelming.
I look down at her and she notices, locking her deep, brown eyes with mine, desire burning into them, making me let out a not at all manly whimper, gripping tighter onto her hair. The way she takes me into her mouth, it just feels like my dick is being bathed by a hot, silky feeling and I could die right now and not give a fuck, because honestly, she is so good that makes my whole body numb, I can't even feel my toes, but I know they're curling from the way she takes me in and out, in and out, her tongue tickling my skin.
"Rachel, fuck." She giggles against me and the vibrations of her laughter go straight to my cock, making me tug onto her hair and honestly, I deserve a medal for not fisting my hand into her hair and bobbing her head up and down my dick, it takes me a lot of self-control not to do so. She is looking up at me while working with her mouth and when she winks at me, my hips buck deeper into her mouth on their own, against my will and though I want to apologize, hoping she didn't choke or anything like that, she doesn't even move.
She just takes me deeper, and it's not only deeper, it's so deep that I can feel my tip hitting her throat. Obviously, she wouldn't have a gag reflex, this woman is a machine built by someone whose plan is to kill every man on Earth from sexual frustration. My dick is twitching into her mouth and I can feel the blood pumping there, I'm so close and it takes a lot of strength from me not to hold her head in place.
When I manage to open my eyes, which were previously shut from all the pleasure she was giving me, I look down and notice something: she is rubbing her thighs together, squeaky, husky sounds leaving her mouth and oh man, she's enjoying this. She's enjoying sucking me just as much as I'm enjoying being sucked.
She is going to kill me. I'm going to die, its official, and the cause of the death will be Rachel Berry. She takes me out of her mouth and when pre-cum leaks through my tip, she watches it sliding down my cock and leans in, licking it like I'm her favorite lollipop and growls at the taste. Once again, after a small breath, she takes me back in and slides me all the way into her mouth, her throat touching my dick again and she looks up, staring at me through her thick lashes and then, she hums – she is humming the song that's playing on the background, at the party, the song is loud and dirty but I don't care, I barely acknowledge it because she's humming and contracting her throat around my cock and I can't take this anymore and I'm, I'm-
"Rach, I'm gonna- oh fuck." And before I can hold it, I'm done, releasing all of my orgasm into her mouth and bucking my hips at the feeling; and even though I expect her to drop me from her lips, she keeps me in place, swallowing all the cum and milking my dick until every drop leaks out of me.
My breath is heavy, my vision is blurred and I can smell the perfume from her hair from up here. I look down at her and she smirks at me, kissing my tip one final time before she pulls my boxers up, tucks me back into them and brings my pants up as well, zipping my pants and doing my buttons once more, picking my shirt from the floor and handing it to me. She laughs at my dazzled expression, shaking her head at me while she runs her finger on the side of her mouth, cleaning her lips.
I put on my shirt and look at her, waiting for her to say something. She notices what I'm doing and smiles, this time innocently. "Well, that was fun." She says and reaches into her dress, squirming while she is trying to pull something out of it, throwing it at my face as she succeeds. I frown, holding it and trying to make out what it is through the darkness. "A little souvenir for you, Tall Boy." And then she infiltrates the crowded party once more, turning her back to me.
I look down at the object in my hands and my eyes threaten to bug out of my head as I notice what it is: it's her panties. I run my fingers on the lacy fabric, holding it up and letting the moonlight hit it – they are delicate, purple and slightly transparent and as my hands touch the center of it, I moan.
They're wet.
xXx
"You fucked her?" Puck asks me through a mouth full of toast, making me roll my eyes at him and brush some spit toast off my shirt as he continues to talk. "You fucked a stripper, are you stupid or what? Do you know how many diseases those girls carry on them? Seriously, they're like, a walking public bathroom."
I glare at him. "Don't talk about her like that, you dick." I spit at him angrily. He has no right to talk about Rachel like that, like she's some sort of a freak just because of her job, it's just not right. Puck, however, ignores my warnings and continues to ramble.
"I mean, having her grind onto your lap is fine, you know cuz like, the clothes are covering your junk but fucking them is just-" I throw some orange juice right at his face without thinking, making him shut up completely. He blinks, his eyelashes heavy with the juice running down his face and he looks pretty pissed but I don't care because at least I was able to make him stop talking. "Dude, what… the… Fuck!" He yells and I laugh, walking towards the sink and throwing the dish towel at his face, so that he can clean himself up.
"I told you to shut up, now you got what you deserved." I say, walking into my room and slamming the door behind me, the force of it showing my roommates that I am not in the mood for more judgmental talk.
Ever since Puck and Sam found out what happened at the party, thanks to Santana who saw me walking out of the balcony right after Rachel did, they won't shut up about it – you would think they would pat my back and say something like "attaboy!" or any other stupidity your guy friends tell you when they find out you're getting laid, but when the girl you've been with is a stripper? No, then, it's like you're society's scum and everyone is better than you.
I don't care what they say, though, because all that's been on my mind since the party is Rachel, which is not fair, because I was doing a pretty good job trying to forget her… Okay, not really, but still.
After the… Um, balcony situation, she simply disappeared into the crowd and though I wanted to, I wasn't able to find her that night and I even tried to get her number from Santana or Quinn, but the girls would offer me poor excuses like, "oh I don't have her number" or "Rachel who?", which is total bullshit because they're friends with her. It's like the Universe wants me to suffer every day because it's the second time I get Rachel and have her been taken away from me, just like that, in a blink of an eye and it drives me insane to live like this. I want her back; I want to have her for me, to wrap my arms around her, to kiss her mouth until she can't breathe anymore, to run my fingers through her strawberry-smelling hair… But I can't because she's not here.
And I know it might sound insane or stupid to feel this way about someone I've met two weeks ago, but in all truth I can't get her out of my head and I need to be with her again, I need to see her and to talk to her again, but more than anything, I need to meet her, the real Rachel – the Rachel who giggles at my stupid jokes, the Rachel I danced with at the party.
Not that I mind the Rachel who got on her knees for me, because I don't – in fact, that Rachel is more than welcome to join me anytime she wants. But that's just a part of her and honestly? I want to meet the whole Rachel.
So I decide that I'm going to the strip club tonight. I'm going to go there, ask her out and for once, do something I haven't done in a long time: have some balls.
xXx
I walk into the strip club and instantly, I feel like a fish out of water – here I am, watching all these girls bounce and wiggle their asses on the stage while guys slide a twenty dollars bill in their panties, I shouldn't be here, I shouldn't, but then I remember I'm here because of her, Rachel, and I can breathe again, though I'm still twirling my hands by my body's side nervously.
Sitting on the nearest table, I adjust myself on an uncomfortable chair and order a beer, knowing that I'll have to wait for a while, probably, since Rachel's performance is the last one of them.
I watch as all the girls come to dance – Sam's girl, Mercedes, she is a big girl, but she has a very pretty face and her body is beautiful on its own way, and as I writer, I tend to notice small things and find beauty where certain people can't; next comes the blonde girl I met at the party, Brittany, and so far, she's the best dancer of them all, you can tell by her toned legs and abdomen that she works out daily and dances professionally and I can't help but to wonder if that's what her ideal career would be, a dancer, the next ones are Quinn and Tina, who dance together to a very sensual beat, touching each other's bodies in a sexy, teasing manner and I notice that they are the ones getting the bigger tips – all men love girl on girl action, that's a fact.
And finally, after – I check my watch – an hour waiting, she comes on the stage. All men instantly adjust themselves in their seats, sitting up to stare at her properly and begin clapping loudly and howling like wolves in the heat because yeah, she's all that and though I know I should be doing the same, I can't because I'm mesmerized by her: she has a silky, transparent camisole on, the dark purple-ish color making her smooth, olive skin pop out, she also has on a small, black thong that barely shows itself since its basically hidden in her firm round behind and under her camisole – and fuck, don't even get me started on the heels she's wearing.
This time though, she doesn't have a chair – instead, she walks towards the pole and grips it firmly with her small hands, hooking a long, firm leg around it and sliding around the pole, coming down slowly and bucking her hips, throwing her head back and waving her long curls sensually, earning some groans from the men who watch her, including me. Then, she begins to twirl around the pole, grinding her core to it while she does so, letting the beat of the song be the one to leads the movements of her hips – she is so sexy, it's probably illegal.
She turns around so that her back is the one pressed against the pole and begins sliding down, oh so very slowly, spreading her legs wide as she finally reaches the floor, getting on her hands and knees and crawling towards the men who stand before the stage with a wolfish look on her eyes, wiggling her hips at them and teasingly tugging at the hem of her camisole, sliding it off her body slowly while she lets all of them watch. Finally, her round breasts are showing and I can feel a tug coming from between my legs, blushing from head to toe as I find myself staring at her boobs longer than anyone else, letting the image of them be burned in my brain.
Rachel is looking around the club while she crawls on stage and then, she teasingly begins to play with the sides of her panties, sliding them down and showing off her hips and some of her ass before she pulls them back on, not giving the men what they want (not giving me what I want, either).
Finally, the song ends and she gets up, putting on her camisole and bowing at all the "applauses" she's receiving – more like howling and whistling. I instantly get up and in the rush of needing to talk to her, I end up dropping the chair on the floor, making me have to bend down to bring the object to its original place again, I end up taking a while doing so, because the side of the chair breaks and I have to get it back together but in no less than two minutes, I end up managing to fix it and great, I can finally go talk to her again!
I'm so nervous, my stomach is doing these flips in my abdomen but I breathe in, breath out and breathe in again, trying to assure myself that it's alright, it's just Rachel and though I don't know what she'll say to my request, I know she will be gentle about it.
However, as I finally approach the stage, I see something I wish I hadn't.
Rachel has her arms wrapped around a guy's neck, a huge smirk plastered on her lips as she looks into his eyes, his own arms wrapped around her waist and holding her possessively against him. He is strong, short – he is taller than her for a few inches – and has a face that begs for me to punch it.
"How was I?" She asks with a small, sweet voice that makes me feel sick in my stomach. Maybe they're just friends; maybe she is just asking him about her performance because she felt insecure today, maybe…
"You were awesome, babe." He says and I want to puke on his shoes, I actually want to puke. Babe? What are they, in High School?
And as if what was happening before wasn't enough, what happens next is the final stab that my heart needed so I could bleed to death – she kisses him. He isn't even the one to initiate the kiss, she is, she is kissing him with everything she has, her tongue making its presence very aware inside his mouth while she caresses his scalp with her nails and that- that's what she did when she kissed me.
He then twirls her around in his arms after they break apart, making her giggle into his neck afterwards. He talks to her about something and that's when I realize she has locked her eyes on something – or better, someone – because she's staring at me.
She knows I'm here and she sees me.
So she kisses him again, harder.
And I run out of the bar.
A/N: I hope you enjoyed it! This was the longest chapter I've written so far and in case you haven't noticed, I love cliffhangers. Oh well, until next time!