Warnings: This chapter is Rated M!
Notes: Super thanks to all the readers and reviewers!
Edited for a few typos 7/6, hope it helps!
Chapter Fifteen
We were doing so good.
We'd made our drop-offs; gotten paid and no one had reported us; Either for Bryn's illegal activities, or my simply existing. We just needed to make it back to Will's bizarre lab to get my test results. I should have known our luck wouldn't hold out.
I am following Bryn up a crowded side street pressed with loads of people for something he calls a grease truck. It's late, dusk is falling and my stomach growls plaintively at the thought of something to eat for once instead of protesting. It's been a long day filled with anxiety over being discovered by the wrong people, and bizarre interactions with City dwellers all over the place. Will had been just the start. I'm tired, my feet hurt and the prospect of tasting what Bryn calls a Philly before hopefully grabbing some answers about whether I was safe to be around and driving the long way home sounds really good.
Off to our right a truck load of soldiers rumbles up the street. Literally. I keep walking beside Bryn hoping they don't look this way. One of them catches my eye and immediately does a double take. And then he points.
"Does that look to you like they see someone they recognize?" I ask Bryn without turning my head. And I guess he thinks so too because in the next second he grabs my hand and pulls me backward against the majority flow of the crowd.
Behind us tires screech. Soldiers shout and we break into a run down a narrow side alley, empty except for trash and puddles that smell pungently like things I'd rather not think of.
I'm about to ask him if he knows where the Hell we're going when we pop back out on a busy street and Bryn's vice grip on my hand becomes the only reason we're not separated in the crowd. As it is I'm jostled painfully by a few shoulders and chests. I catch an elbow in a spot sensitive enough to make me wince. I have just enough time to glance up at the flickering strobing lights plastered to metal walls overhead. The heart stuttering boom of several different beats jumbling all together at once in a racket that can't be ignored. And then Bryn's grip yanks me down another damn near deserted alleyway between two walls of dark sheet metal reverberating with heavy booming sounds and I have just enough time to think that this is no good with the shouting behind us—all they have to do is turn and see us alone in this alley with nowhere to run.
But then a man in heavy leather with a bald scary head marked with jumbled pictures of ink takes a thick roll of something from Bryn's hand and we're through a steel door without a word and standing in a dark black-painted hallway.
If I thought it was loud in the street before, it's nothing compared to the din inside. Beats loud enough to shake my heart in my chest assaults my ears making me wish I could press my fingers in them to muffle the sound. Bryn pulls me down the black-washed smoky hallway so dark I can barely see the back of his head, apparently immune to the dreadful sound and then I'm wincing at the bright explosion of lights in the main room.
Strobing flashes of green and red and purple swirl against the floor and walls. People are everywhere—all of them young some of them breathing smoke with every exhale in a way I find fascinating for only a moment because there are far more interesting displays to see. Apparently these people do not care as much about being naked as Bryn does judging by the mostly pink and sweat slicked girl straddling the lap of an equally disrobed man to our right. I watch a little wide eyed as she rises and falls over him head tipped back until she catches me watching her and crooks a finger giving me a sly grin. I turn away cheeks flushing certain that what they are doing is what Bryn tried to do with me before. I don't understand how she can look so pleased when it hurt.
Bryn appears worryingly frozen beside me. I wait staring up at him still gripping his hand certain that he must have a plan. Bryn must realize that we're both wearing a lot more clothing then the rest of the club because he drops my hand a second later and rips his shirt over his head. I stare at him wide eyed while he shoves half its length into his back pocket leaving his now bare chest colored in a wash of swirling distracting lights.
He takes my hand again and leans into me, almost over me with his height, his mouth pressed right to my ear and even though he's damn near shouting I only catch the words SkinClub and blend in. And then in a sudden unexpected lull in the ear shattering beat, the crystal clear words of "I'm sorry."
I have a split second to wonder, for what? And then the pounding beat is back making me jump and my shirt is over my head leaving me staring at him a little wide eyed in the see-through clinging ice-blue lace camisole Libby gave me to wear underneath so I would blend into the City crowds 'trendy' clothes.
And Okay, I think after the initial shock; now we look a little more like these skin clubbers…and then Bryn's hands grip the thighs of my black tights under my short black skirt and those are yanked down too as he crouches in front of me carefully lifting my feet to pull them free over my borrowed shoes. His hands slide back up my bare legs from calf to thigh sending a flood of heat racing out from his touch. I feel a little dizzy by the time he stands back up.
Bryn's looking over my shoulder now, his hands reach around my back grabbing the tie holding my braid. He jerks it free skating rough fingers through all-too-orderly strands twisting and tugging my locks into a wild curtain that fans down my back and tumbles around my face. He doesn't pause to look at me, gripping my hand again and pulling me past the young woman still sliding enthusiastically over her male friend her face now contorting oddly. Maybe she likes pain, I have heard of that before.
I swallow around a suddenly dry throat taking in the people we pass and the couplings, because even half-dressed we are still wearing far more than many of the people here—and we are doing none of their apparently preferred activities…
Bryn's still got my pilfered tights and 'trendy' shirt in his other hand, is using his vice grip on my wrist to haul me through a sweaty press of bodies. He snatches an unattended bag off an otherwise empty table shoving my clothes inside after reaching his hand in to yank something small and rectangular out of it. He hands the bag back to me retaining the small plastic piece and keeping us moving, now up a short flight of stairs to a metal catwalk—I assume so we can see more of the club. I shove my free hand through the large metal rings at the top that seem to serve as handles for this particular bag, clutching the stolen black leather against my chest like it's my own. Twice while we're walking Bryn uses his other hand to snatch someone else's when they reach for me. The second time it happens he has to stop completely glaring viciously at the guy who tries again before he apparently thinks better of it and moves off.
Bryn twists me around him when we reach the edge of the room pressing my back to a dark sticky counter that reaches the middle of my spine. He steps close, boots on either side of mine blocking me from the view of the room with his chest, one hand on either side of me taping the plastic card against the top. He hands it to a tall woman on the other side, shouts something to her I can't hear, but somehow she must because she moves off for a moment and he waits staring down at me until she brings something back. There's a glass of something clear in her fingers that she hands off sliding it towards us sloshing a bit onto the already wet bar top without a second look tossing the plastic numbered card back onto the bar and moving off to collect more of them.
There are less people standing right here but only marginally so. All around us they seem to congregate in packs. Bryn offers me the glass. It looks like water but the smell wafting up the inside of the glass tells me clearly it is not. It burns my nose when I sniff it cautiously. I do not think he would hand me something dangerous on purpose, others are drinking the same thing so it must be safe. I taste it and almost spit it onto the floor shaking my head and staring at him wide eyed with a mixture of awe and disgust when he retrieves the glass and swallows it down without flinching. Alcohol, some part of my brain informs me. Moonshine. I watch him drink still fighting the urge to scrub my nails over my tongue where it feels like whatever was in the glass is still tingling and burning my taste buds. I realize Bryn is watching different sides of the room every time he turns his head slightly. He spends most of his time checking the space adjoining to what appears to be the front door of this club. He scowls suddenly and takes my hand once more abandoning his now empty glass on the counter top and leading me further into the room.
We reach the other side of the room bumping into people left and right during out short walk before Bryn pulls me up onto another metal walkway; then up a short rear catwalk. All around us bodies are grinding and sweating and I realize more than half of the room is not dancing like I first thought…
I feel frozen to the metal grate, a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach knowing this will never work. If we can't blend in with the people here they will spot us in moments when they come. Even less dressed we do not blend in at all. I turn my head to try and tell him so—inform him that maybe we can still escape, slip out the back. He's not looking at me now. I follow Bryn's line of sight and realize with a rush of fear that soldiers are in the club now, scanning the crowd near the door.
I turn back to look at him panicked just in time to see a wash of pure determination plaster itself across his face. He lets go of my hand so he can grab my hips instead. Lifting me up and spinning us both around and dropping my ass against the few inches of railing between the catwalk and the open air above the gyrating sex-driven crowd.
My hands have found their way to sweat-slicked shoulders bracing myself so I'm less apt to fall. Bryn presses closer, parts my knees with his thigh, my skirt rides higher. He moves between them hands pressing flat against my lower back wound around my sides sliding my frame against him. I swallow and flush with his rough calloused palms catching on fine lace dragging it higher up my back. He's bracing my shoulder blades with two firm hands so he can lean into me and keep me securely seated on the rail. I still only catch half the words but his breathe against my ear makes me shiver and my nipples pebble without being cold trapped beneath slightly scratchy lace pressed against warm chest.
The words blend in and pretend, tumble through my brain disjointed and scrambled with the incredible din and the sound of blood rushing in my head with Bryn pressing so close. I'm nodding along still wondering exactly what he plans to do and then he ducks his head to the curve of my neck and I have a split second to think oh, as his mouth moves over my skin, just under my chin. His lips parting applying a mind-altering slick wet suction that makes my mind go oddly blank except for a startled oh, God and my heart suddenly tries to beat it's way right through my ribs. I don't know if I can do this…not just for pretend, not with him. And then his tongue rasps up the side of my neck and teeth slide over my ear lobe and my eyes clench shut and he moves even closer, spreading me wider one hand skirting down my spine pressing me forward pulling me practically into his lap.
I'm straddling his hips—spread wide my now poor excuse for a skirt bunched just under my ass and if anyone were to walk under us right now and look up they'd get one hell of a show because Libby hadn't let me put on anything under those tights. The metal rings of our stolen bag are starting to hurt the inside of my elbow so I drop my arm letting it slide to the floor before bringing my hand back to tangle unhindered in his hair.
The rough thread of his pants creates an interesting friction on my inner thighs—enough to have me sucking in a startled breath and that was before he rocks into me and I can unexpectedly feel I'm not the only one who's having difficulty separating this play acting from the real thing… He grinds into me again and I press my teeth to my bottom lip to stifle the sound trying to work its way out—except that's ridiculous I realize. I can't even hear myself moan. And such a sound even if it could be heard would only help us to blend in with our current crowd. So I tip my head back and let it out. Bryn's hand is sliding up my thigh squeezing and rubbing in the most distracting way. His thumb pressing mind-blowing intricate patterns to my inner thigh rising slowly higher—I supposed under the pretense of looking like we are doing more then we actually are, but the effect on me is the same.
His mouth is working its way over my bare collarbone but he jerks free and leans back to stare at me eyes wide breathing too fast when his fingertips encounter a neat twist of curls instead of cotton or anything else covering my flushed skin. He looks a little out of control with his eyes wide and his hair mussed—the wild light show playing over sweat damp skin and that was before his eyes shifted to wickedly sinful molten gold.
A fresh sweat breaks out over my body under that look. I grip his skin tighter while he stares an anxious question at me and a hard shudder runs up my spine when his mouth descends on mine a moment later, and I have just enough time to nod my head desperately yes, clinging to him and then he's buried knuckle deep with two fingers and my back arches and he swallows up my desperate moan mouth crashing into my own.
The look he shoots me several moments later finally breaking the kiss sends a rush of fresh heat to my already over-taxed core. Heightens the sensations spiraling around his fingers still moving between my thighs while I pant and moan unable to control my breathing. And I don't think either of us is pretending anymore, if we ever were…
I rock against his hand while he drives into me with rough strokes that are breath staggeringly perfect. His mouth is greedy and possessive over mine while I cling to his frame terrified of letting go when I feel so out of control. My fingernails leaving little half-moon indentations over bare shoulders he barely notices. My other fingers twisted in the long strands of his hair tight enough to ache.
A random hand enters my vision reaching for my bare shoulder when he breaks the kiss again and I think, Shit, certain it's a soldier coming for me until Bryn simply snarls and slaps another random partier's hand away. I stare up at him wide eyed and he just smirks at me moving his now free hand down to grip my ass and wrench me closer, and then he does something with his fingers inside me that has me seeing stars.
My head snaps back and I'm comparing them to the flashing lights soaring overhead and his hand is the same rhythm as the music pounding in my chest. His mouth moves over my exposed neck, fingers tangling in my sweat damp hair dragging our bodies flush chest to slick chest. His tongue slides up my neck while I clench around him. I tilt my head, twist my chin to capture his lobe between my teeth—touch him the way he's touching me. He seems to go a little weak in the knees; leaning into me more heavily when I suck the sting away. He shudders against me drawing in a ragged breath against my skin.
I'm gasping words like more, and please, even though there is no way I can be heard over this racket—Bryn's hungry mouth meets mine again insistent and demanding just like the tempo of his fingers plunging through my folds. He shifts against me—in me; curling his next thrust with the rise of his elbow and a twist of his hand and something inside me goes the color of spun honey; warm and liquid gold. I tip over something I can't name, shudder and buck into his hand rocked by waves of intense pleasure so bright for a few earth shattering moments the rest of the club is drowned out to the roar of white noise.
Bryn is still kissing me as I come quivering and shuddering back down, floating back into myself one trickle of awareness at a time. The aftermath washing through my belly no longer matches the pulse of the music, or the frantic rush of blood in my head. It's achingly sweet and slow like his fingers barely slipping through my fluttering heat, gliding with the ebbing rhythm of my first release. I cling to him when he pulls away, moving just enough to grip the back of my head all but crushing me to his chest. My ear pressed over his heartbeat, measuring the racing tempo against my own feeling my world tilt behind closed lids.
Something has changed, something big.
His other hand leaves me finally my inner muscles still trembling and shuddering even in his absence. He drags his hand firmly down my back almost cupping my ass with my legs wound around his hips—a move I don't remember making. I realize as he presses staggered kisses to my hair and to one bare shoulder and then the other that he's also looking for our pursuers as I desperately attempt to gather my wits. I twist enough in his grasp to catch sight of three of them still near the door arguing with two large men in black collared shirts and a couple half-naked girls. I guess they pissed off enough rich kids to get thrown out.
Good, I think viciously. All in all, this has not turned out so bad. I press my face to Bryn's bare chest feeling his hand cup the nape of my neck, thumb sliding in soft circles against my skin as he holds me close.
And then the screaming starts.
At first I think it's just another club goer who's a little…verbal. But then it's several voices and that seems odd even for this crowd. Though I am in no way an expert on what we just did, I know this sound all too well. Their voices are high pitched in terror and pain.
Bryn's hands tighten on my skin and I turn to see people stumbling terrified and intoxicated out of a back room. My eyes focusing on a guy with greyish blue skin and a wash of fresh blood dripping down his toned bare chest from his open mouth. He's wearing some kind of leather pants that catch the flashing multi-hued lights as he staggers forward reaching for half-naked kids already scattering in a blind panic.
I feel rather than hear Bryn curse where he's pressed against my body. And then he's sweeping me off the railing onto shaky legs and dragging me through the mad press of the crowd to the now wide open doors while the soldiers move in the opposite direction. We melt into the chaos, jostled by elbows and knees and hands pressing forward, and sideways desperate to just get away.
Bryn's body is pressed flush to my back both arms locked around my waist shielding me form most of the more aggressive contact with too many fear stricken party goer's pressed close. I worry we'll be trampled in the mad rush for the doors when the whole front wall—doorways included simply rolls up to the roof and excited and panicked half-naked youths spill onto the street in a frantic flood. Smart. I think, especially when anyone of your patrons could decide to eat the rest of the party…
Bryn transfers his grip to my hand and we're off running again my shaky legs trembling and my lungs burning. We race down the long street before turning a corner and Bryn just stops. I don't get a chance to wonder why when he spins, lifting me up and hauling me against his chest, my legs go around his waist on some primal instinct and we nearly tumble backwards. He barely gets a hand out in time to stop us before we slam with the full force of both our weight into another metal wall. As it is my back stings with the blunt contact but I don't care, because he's kissing me—brutally.
I'm melting, and trembling and hanging by a silver thread, wracked with full body shakes by the time he pulls away. He sets me down just as swiftly as he started it—maybe remembering we might still be followed.
We continue down the alley, cross three side streets, and I start to think we're okay—we made it.
A giggle slips out of me and I clap my free hand over my lips not sure that's appropriate, even with the shiny silvery washes of residual pleasure still spiraling under my skin and the thrill of escape the rush of adrenaline humming in my veins. People have died barely twenty feet from where we stood, and more were injured…laughter is probably not right. But Bryn looks back at me still holding my hand and he grins. And then we're both laughing, and running and laughing more as we turn the corner. Right until I crash head on into a woman coming out of a corner door of the building.
My hand is ripped from Bryn's grasp as we both hit the ground hard. Wide familiar blue eyes stare up at me from an angular but overall pretty face. Bryn is scrambling to pull me up sputtering apologies neither of us register. Then she speaks and he freezes right along with me sucking in a tight breath.
"Sariel, I was wondering when you might show up to kill me."
And, what the hell?!