Just Friends?

Ellie smiled, and, with a flippant wave, headed out the door, loosening her tie as she sauntered into the sunshine. Her short brown hair did nothing to block the sun's glare, and she squinted her pale blue eyes, seeing daylight for the first time since walking into her shift twelve hours ago.

She sighed and rolled her narrow shoulders, feeling several pops as her spine realigned, and rotated her hips, feeling the tension radiating up her legs. She straightened and continued to her car, eagerness putting a spring in her step, and a small smile on her soft, full lips. She was visiting an old friend today, one she hadn't seen in several months, and was looking forward to the reunion. She was off the next day, so had no qualms about taking advantage of his hospitality, and dangerously potent weed.

As she drove, she let her mind wander, returning, as she often did, to the last time she saw Alex. They had both been embarrassingly, uproariously drunk, and, though the memories were foggy, the feel of his lips dragging up her throat and his teeth sinking into her pale skin had stayed firmly at the forefront of her mind. She had pushed him off, more reluctantly than she should have, laughing shakily to disguise her shortness of breath, with an admonishing reminder about his girlfriend, a foul-tempered shrew at the best of times.

Minutes later, she had made some poor excuse, and hastened out of his apartment, her cheeks burning, as his eyes bored into her back. She barely remembered the cab ride home, dazed by his ferocity, and her hand kept creeping up to the bruises on her neck, replaying the moment over and over. Even months after, the sharp pinch of his teeth, the feeling of helplessness and want coiling in her stomach, the press of her legs and lips together to disguise her desire were as vivid as the day they happened.

All this scrolled through her head as she sat outside his apartment complex, absentmindedly fixing her makeup. She attempted to disguise her exhaustion, but there were dark circles under her eyes, and her hair was in total disarray that no amount of combing could tame. She settled for reapplying her eyeliner and lipstick, convincing herself that she was doing it for herself, rather than the lanky brunet she couldn't seem to put out of her mind.

She sat there for a moment, stalling, and caught sight of herself in the mirror, eyes wide and cheeks flushed. She shook her head violently, trying to shake her nerves like a dog shaking off water. She would just sit far away from him. He had a girlfriend, after all, and she nodded firmly at her reflection, ignoring the dubious look she was giving herself.

Knuckles rapped against her window, causing her to jump, and her cheeks burned with embarrassment as Alex looked in at her with sardonic amusement. Still flushed, she clambered out of her car, and tripped into his tattooed arms for a hug, burying her face in his shoulder, waiting for her cheeks to cool before she pulled away.

When she did, his eyes roved over her, her form fitting white button down disheveled from her day, and coming untucked from the tight, black pants that showcased her pert ass. Ellie had noticed a distinct uptick in her tips after buying these pants and had come to relish the turn of heads as she sashayed through the small restaurant. His eyes seemed darker than she remembered but were as inscrutable as always.

"I was beginning to think you weren't going to show," he commented, gently propelling her away from her car, his long fingers overlapping on her wrist. She glanced up at him, lips pursed.

"It would have served you right, after cancelling on me the last three times."

He grinned sharply as he looked back at her, and her eyes flashed with indignation as he chuckled, a warm sound that seemed to travel down his hands, and into her wrist, spreading warmth through her body, a nexus of heat already pooling in her stomach. She tried to tug her hand away with a scowl, and his fingers tightened briefly, his eyes flaring. She tugged again, and he let her go, his hand slow to pull away from her, before ushering her inside.

"The elevator is broken, so we're going to have to take the stairs." Ellie flashed a skeptical look over her shoulder.

"Isn't this place brand new? Why do you live here, again?" He shrugged one shoulder nonchalantly.

"Honestly, it's hardly surprising the elevator broke. You know my luck. I'm actually more surprised that I wasn't inside it when it did."

On that, she had to concede. She had spent many days bemoaning his misfortune alongside him. He was a magnet for trouble, yet remained unflappably cool throughout, the circles under his brown eyes the only evidence of the strain. She would never admit it, but she was privately charmed by his apathy. He gestured to the stairwell door, a manufactured look of defeat on his face. She rolled her eyes slightly at his woebegone theatrics. It was only three floors. She brushed past him and started up the stairs.

"Well, it's been a couple of months, anything new and exciting happen?" She called over her shoulder. There was silence, and, when she turned to look, she caught him sliding his eyes guiltily away from her ass. She turned back around and grinned, fighting the urge to wiggle her hips more than was strictly necessary to get upstairs. By the third floor, she was convinced that he was attempting to burn a hole through her pants with his eyes, and a feeling of power surged through her, making her feel lightheaded, wanton, and dangerous.

She slowed behind him, his long legs easily outpacing her much shorter ones, and took stock of his thin frame, with exactly the amount of concern a good friend would have, she told herself firmly. He hadn't been eating properly, forearms sinewy against the rolled up sleeves of his plaid shirt. His normally bright eyes were deep and ringed in his gaunt face.

Regardless, his body was tightly coiled, and she knew from experience that he was much stronger, and far more dangerous, than he looked. He had once subdued a much-larger customer, a stalker that had been harrassing a coworker. Ellie had watched the entire scene, gnawing her lip, transfixed by the pull of his muscles under his skin.

A quick glance at her wrist showed the finger marks fading, and, before she could help it, an image flashed in her head of those same finger marks around her throat, on every inch of her pale skin. She nibbled at her lip and hastened to catch up. He paused at the door, his hand on the knob.

"Katie and I broke up," he mumbled. She looked at him with pity, taking in his haggard appearance and downtrodden demeanor with a new understanding.

"I'm so sorry," she murmured, rubbing his arm comfortingly. She bit her lip, wanting to say more, but he seemed content in the silence that fell. He looked at where their skin met for a long while, saying nothing. Then, finally, he sighed.

"It's probably for the best. She didn't really like you all that much, you know." With that, he pushed the door open, a slight smile curling his lips as he studied her brow, furrowed with anxiety.

"Really!" he insisted, "I feel good about it. It's been a few weeks. I got some more projects to fill the extra space."

"Oh yes, that's exactly what you need, Alex. More guitars. You fix them all up, but do you ever even play anything other than your.... Gibbous?" she hazarded a guess.

What she knew about guitars could fit on a guitar pick (she assumed) with room left over. He grinned at her, rolling his eyes, and pushed her through the door, his body angled in such a way that her ass brushed against him as she stumbled gracelessly through the doorframe.

Wow, she mused silently, he wasn't joking about the guitars. There were half-finished guitars strewn haphazardly, the living room in disarray, the scent of varnish and wood thick in the air. The sofa, it seemed, had been hastily cleared enough for two to sit together. So much for trying to keep her distance.

They settled on the cushions, his body pressed far too close to hers, and she tried to ignore the heat radiating from him. Instead, she launched into a long-winded complaint about her coworkers, bemoaning the fact that they no longer worked together, a long-standing tradition between the two of them. He chuckled and nodded along as she rambled, her hands gesticulating wildly as she picked up steam.

While she talked, he packed weed into his bong, a lethal looking glass piece that never failed to send her to space. This day proved to be no exception, as, after two hits, she flopped against the couch, grinning goofily at her longtime friend, complaints about work quite forgotten as she admired the flop of his hair into his face. He smiled indulgently back, smoke wreathing his face as he turned his attention to the TV, flicking through music stations.

She sat bolt upright, and tugged the controller from his hands, ignoring the heat from his fingers. She put on a new artist, trying once more to expand his borders past acoustics and whiny vocals. He gave her a weary look as the synthetic beats came thumping through the speakers. In return, she shot him a wide, hopeful grin, and he sighed in resignation, leaning back, head lolling on the sofa.

She perched, unsure, at the edge of the sofa, lip caught between her teeth until he plucked her from her seat, pulling her to him. She fell on him, cheeks burning, his bones digging slightly into her soft frame.

She struggled half-heartedly, then stopped, attempting to glare, the attempt ruined by her poorly stifled smile. They talked, the conversation flowing easily, as the songs ticked by, unnoticed.

As the day lengthened, Ellie felt her eyes drooping, and, quite without her permission, her head dropped to his shoulder, his collarbone digging into her forehead.

"You need to eat more," she mumbled, trying in vain to find a comfortable position. He shrugged her off, guiding her head to his lap, and idly toyed with her hair, attempting futilely to untangle it with his deft fingers. She rolled to her back and grinned up at him.

"I admire the effort, but I promise you, you're just going to make it worse." He hummed, eyes distant and unreadable, and pulled his hands free from her clutching hair, moving them instead to the bong, as her lips pursed in moue of discontent at the loss of his fingers, calloused though they were from years of plucking guitar strings.

He inhaled deeply, with practiced ease, and again. When he set the bong back down, his hands were shaking slightly. Uncharacteristic for him, she noted, her brow furrowing slightly. He studied her face, eying the worried pucker of her forehead. She bit her lip again under his surveillance, and his eyes tracked the movement.

The music ended, and Ellie seized on the distraction, fighting down the familiar twisting in her gut. The controller was plucked from her hands as he gave her a long, measuring look, and she harrumphed, grabbing at the bong for something to do with her hands. The smoke curled out between her lips, and within minutes she was limp and boneless against Alex's side, her brain foggy, and her thoughts swirling.

The music was nice, she admitted to herself, as she poked and prodded at his side, trying to find a soft edge in all his sharp angles. Quiet, acoustic piano filled the room, and her lids lowered again as the room swirled around her. He murmured to her, his baritone voice rumbling through her ribcage, talking about nothing of importance, while she dozed against him.

Eventually, his voice trailed off, and she stayed still, feigning sleep. He gently eased her head back to his lap, with careful movements, cradling her head in his hands. She felt one of his long, cool fingers trace the shape of her lips, cautiously, slowly, afraid to wake her. With effort, she kept her eyes from fluttering, and turned slightly, not quite able to bring herself to sit up. His hands stilled, then resumed, tracing the contours of her face, the heat from his fingers spreading through her body, tightening her belly with apprehension.

She could feel his eyes on her face as his fingers twitched lower. They caressed her long, pale neck, and continued on their path, scratching slightly against her starched uniform. He paused, then, as though weighing options.

A moment later, he eased open the top button of her shirt, breathing shallowly. Ellie lay motionless, fighting the urge to pull her lip between her teeth at the electric tension vibrating from the small space between them. After a pregnant pause, his fingers pressed on, lowering the second button, trailing idly over the outline of her bra.

The button popped free, and Alex's hands hovered, before he eased open her shirt, revealing her lacy black push-up bra, and the few freckles dotting the top of her modest, milk white breasts. Ellie heard a string of mutters, some of which sounded like curses, and Alex shifted uncomfortably beneath her. She almost laughed at his discomfort, but then his fingers traced softly over her breasts, and her thoughts focussed like a laser to that solitary point of contact, ticklish and infuriatingly gentle.

She couldn't help but squirm slightly, and she pressed her legs together at the thought of his head lowered to her breasts, bruising her nipples with vicious bites, marking his progress down her body. She knew that she should be sitting up, leaving, feigning outrage at his violation of her body, but, while she was "asleep", she was blameless. Helpless.

She almost squirmed again at the thought, mentally willing him to continue his torturous tracing. He didn't disappoint, dipping his hand into her bra, then withdrawing suddenly at the feel of cold, unyielding metal. Probing hesitantly, he rolled her nipple ring between his fingers, and hissed in a breath, fingers tightening against her yielding skin as her nipples pebbled, betraying her desire. He flicked at the metal for a while, fingers growing increasingly bold as they slid along her bra, lowering to her shirt, and freeing another button.

The curve of her waist was revealed as the shirt fell further open, and she felt him press a warm palm against her. His calloused palm skimmed back and forth against her creamy skin, the friction searing, and the tension knotting her insides as his hand swirled, slowly, tracing lower, until his skillful fingers were toying with the band of her pants. Ellie warred with herself.

She knew she should stop him, that their friendship would be altered, that she was more than a rebound, but the growing need between her legs was incredibly persuasive, and she couldn't deny the excitement that bubbled below her skin at the feel of his rough hands, the same hands she had imagined claiming every inch of her.

There was a soft snick as he undid the clasps on her pants, and her eyes almost shot open. Alex apparently had given up on his reservations and was now pushing to see just how much of her he could claim before she woke up.

The sense of helplessness was one she had daydreamed about for the past few months, and yet, and yet.... Her thoughts were interrupted as his fingers danced on the waistband of her thong, and she sent a silent thank you that she had worn sexy underwear today, unwilling to admit that she had been thinking of him when she slid them up her legs. She couldn't help but tense up when his fingers brushed down the front of her thong, curling ever so slightly as they reached her clit.

Ellie was paralysed, need and fear stilling her limbs and quickening her heart as he strummed her clit through her underwear, forcing a gasp from between her lips.

At this, he removed his hand, and she felt him shift underneath her, the hardness in his pants telling, and gratifying. He leaned forward, until she could feel his hot, quick breaths on her face, and whispered, in a husky voice,

"I know you're awake." Her eyes flew open, and she straightened immediately, shooting to her feet.

"I wa-, you, hah, that's, it...." Ellie trailed off, feeling supremely embarrassed, hands buttoning her shirt and pants, the shaking in them evident. He watched her do this, dark eyes boring into her, with his hand absently rubbing against the bulge in his jeans.

"Hah, well, I should go, sorry, I shouldn't have... And I guess um.... I'll text you later?"

Her voice pitched up, betraying her nervousness, and she turned to flee, shirt only halfway buttoned. She had just started to pull the door open when a hand shot past her face, slamming the door closed.

Her breath hitched, and her heart thudded twice as she turned to him. His normally calm expression was replaced with something primal, yet inherently familiar.

His eyes were hungry, and his fingers moved from the door to her jaw, then down to her shirt, tugging her back to the sofa. She put up a token resistance, attempting to bat his hand away, and his grip tightened, his eyes narrowing possessively.

She acquiesced, and sat on the edge of the sofa, nervously smoothing her hair, her bottom lip firmly caught between her teeth.

"Don't you want to know how I knew you were awake?" His voice sounded normal. Calm, unaffected. When she looked back, however, the hunger was still tracing his features, making him look animalistic and dangerous. Well fine. Two could play the cool and collected game.

"... I'll bite. How?" she replied, turning back around to fiddle with the bong, debating another hit to soothe her jangling nerves.

"Oh I bet you will...." He mumbled. She turned to face him.

"What did you say?"

"I said you snore when you're asleep," he grinned wickedly, and she huffed, discomfort forgotten. His smile widened as she puffed her cheeks out in indignation, reaching out to poke him in the ribs.

"That was one time! I was drunk!" she cried, defensively. He caught her hand as she went to poke him again, and she noted again the strength of his fingers as she struggled futilely against his grip. She swung her other hand around, and he caught that one just as easily, his face amused. She glanced down at his fingers curled around her wrist and dragged her eyes up to his. His gaze met hers steadily.

"Let me go or I'll bite you," she declared, hoping her voice didn't sound as shaky as she felt. He leered at her, and shrugged his shoulders, his eyes never leaving her face. With a snarl, she twisted down to him, gnashing her teeth with a savagery that was only mostly playful. She felt his laugh vibrate through her as she locked her jaw on his arm, gnawing like she was trying to chew her way through. When that failed to move him, she tried a different tactic, and, gathering up spit, drooled liberally all over him, using her tongue to coat his arm in saliva.

He yanked his arm away, wiping it against the couch, and she used her newfound freedom to poke him in the ribs again, laughing at the apparent disgust on his face. This turned out to be a mistake, and he snatched her hand with a growl, pushing her back into the sofa, and swinging over her in one smooth motion, pinning her hands.

"Has anyone ever told you that you're kind of a brat?" He said, not quite managing to hide his smile.

"It's called strategy," she replied primly, squirming under his weight.

"Is that why you're pinned against the sofa, helplessly?" He drawled, that hungry look back in his eyes.

"You win some, you lose some," she dismissed, with a nervous laugh. Her attempt at lightening the situation fell flat, and she felt her heart rate double as he leaned in, and dragged his lips up her neck, the softness of them juxtaposing the days of stubble scratching against her.

"You know," he rumbled, "I've been thinking a lot about what happened a few months ago..."

"O-oh?" Ellie stuttered out feebly, knowing he could feel her thudding heartbeat beneath his lips as he kissed his way up her neck.