Martini, Dirty, On the Rocks

"Just memorizing--" she picked up her pace slightly to catch back up with him, having fallen a step behind, "I figure I might have to identify your body, after that stunt."

"Well then," his smile did not waver. Instead, it widened, revealing the full length of his metal teeth, "we'd best make sure you have it memorized."

They turned together off of 82nd and down 105 North-West. She pointed to a four-story redbrick building which stood on the right side, across the road.

"That's me."

He followed her lead as she crossed the street, pulling a small keychain out of the back pocket of her jeans and inserting one of the keys into the front door. It sighed softly as she pushed it open, holding it for the young man. He gave a slightly mocking bow as he came through, folding nearly in half as he caught the handle of the second door and bowed her through it. Despite herself, Teghan found that she was laughing. She pressed the button to call the elevator, turning to say something to the young man.

To her surprise, she found herself suddenly pressed up against the wall beside the elevator door. His hands slid between the jacket and her body, holding her by the hips as he caught her mouth with his own. She inhaled through her nose as their mouths met. It did not start slow, like some kisses between strangers'--to her, it felt as if he had seized her mouth with his own. She grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him close as his tongue pressed against hers. She could feel his lip rings as she kissed him, the cool metal touching the skin just below her bottom lip. She drew her tongue over the strange teeth--she had expected them to taste metallic, but they did not; they tasted the same as the rest of his mouth. Like gin and bad decisions, she laughed to herself. He was hard. She could feel the stiff length of his penis pressed against her thigh as he held her body between his and the wall. She dropped one of her hands, running her fingers along it through the soft fabric of his sweatpants.

Beside them, the elevator dinged. The doors scraped as they slid open. In front of her, Peter stepped back and grinned--he didn't pay any attention to the hard outline of his penis that stood out from the front of his pants, but Teghan did. Grabbing the front of his shirt, she pulled him into the open elevator. He was probably stronger than her, if it came to it, but she felt his body give way as she pushed him against the elevator wall. Stepping forward, she pressed the button for the third floor with one hand. The other one went to his stomach, lifting his shirt slightly with the tips of her fingers before sliding down beneath the waistband of his sweatpants. He wasn't wearing any underwear, as it turned out. His face lowered slightly to kiss her as she found his penis with her hand, wrapping her fingers around it and stroking gently.

"Fuck--" he breathed against her mouth. She leaned back ever so slightly, so that their lips were separated by the space of no more than an inch. She saw his grin mostly in the corners of his eyes, "if I do turn up dead tomorrow, print Worth It on my headstone, okay?"

She laughed as the elevator doors opened. Pulling her hand out of his pants, she kicked him gently in the shin. Reaching down, he caught her hand with his own as they made their way out of the elevator.

"309," she pointed with her free hand.

Pulling out her keychain once more, Teghan set a second key into the lock and turned it. Peter released her hand as she withdrew her keys and pushed down on the doorhandle; it swung open with a low creak. Stepping inside, she flicked the lights and tucked her keys back into the pocket of her jeans. She heard Peter close the door behind her. Their shoes fell onto the plastic mat beside the entranceway. Before his hands had a chance to find her, she was already gone into the kitchen.

Her apartment was a bit of a disaster, but she didn't really care. The space itself was a single room, with the kitchen separated from the rest by a dividing wall which didn't attach to either side. The floor of the kitchen was false, grey-stained wood. The rest was covered in beige carpeting. Her bed had been pushed into the far corner, under a set of book-covered shelves. The sheets were scattered on the floor. Her clothing had been strewn over a white Ikea dresser and fallen onto the carpet around it; two windows let in a small amount of light from the streetlamps outside, the warm gold mixing with the fluorescent white of her fan lights. The closed door to a bathroom stood at the far end of the room. Reaching up to the cupboard above the sink, she took down a pair of mismatched glasses. She filled both with ice, and then grabbed a bottle of Broker's dry gin. She filled both glasses almost to the rim, handing one to the young man behind her.

He accepted it with a smile. He was studying her apartment, she noticed.

"It's a bit of a shitshow," she didn't apologize--she was just stating facts.

"I like it," he turned that disarming smile on her once more, "it suits you."

"You don't know the first thing about me."

"Sure I do," he adjusted the band of his sweatpants slightly with his free hand, "I know you've got a good grip," she rolled her eyes, "and that despite the fact that despite the fact I'm standing in your apartment an hour after meeting you--you don't actually do this very much."

She stared at him for a moment. The worst part was--he was right. She went to the Black Dog because it was somewhere that she wouldn't do things like this; things like inviting practical strangers back to her apartment. She would admit that to him over her dead body, though. She took a step forward, tilting her head. His stare was steady, and his mouth showed the outline of a smile at its corners.

"Why do you say that?"

"Because people who do one-night stands don't waste good gin." He raised his glass in a cheers motion and sipped it, "I'm already here. Either you've already got what you want, or I'm the one who should be worried."

"Oh, you should be worried." Teghan's smile showed all of her teeth, "But maybe I just have to get blind drunk to sleep with you. Considered that?"

He laughed, "I admit I didn't. Cheers to that."

Their glasses clinked lightly. Setting down his glass on the counter, he pointed with one finger, indicating the empty space beside it. Teghan looked at him with confusion.

"Get up there," he clarified.

"Why?"

"Because I'm drinking on an empty stomach, and I should probably eat something." His eye dropped in a wink; Teghan let out a small sound from the back of her throat--half amusement and half low growl of annoyance, "Come on, let me return the favour from earlier."

"You have your own drink," she went to turn away.

Grabbing the glass from the counter, he raised it and emptied the entire thing in the space of two swallows. Placing it back down on the counter, ice cubes clinking quietly in the now-empty square glass, he reached out and grabbed her by the waist. Teghan's breathing hitched slightly as he lifted her onto the counter. Holding her own glass carefully to one side, she met the man's mouth as it moved to take hers. She felt his tongue against her bottom lip, and then his mouth was moving away. He kissed the corner of her mouth gently, and then her jaw, and then her neck. She shifted her head slightly to make room for him to continue, but he was already gone again. She felt his fingers go into the slightly elastic waistband of her jeans, pulling them down against the cheeks of her bum. She raised herself from the counter, lifting with her arms, to make it easier for him. As her pants went down, so did his lips. He kissed the bare skin between her hips, just over the line of her underwear. It was plain white, but at least she had shaved that morning--decently, too, which was rare. His mouth moved over the smooth skin, and she inhaled a slightly shake breath as his teeth caught the top of her underwear. Using his mouth, he worked them down her thighs. Teghan put her feet flat against the cupboards below the counter, shifting her hips forward slightly to give the man easier access. She felt her underwear go over her ankles. He straightened, holding her underwear in one hand, and tucked them into the pocket of his jacket, which she was still wearing. Teghan laughed.

"Oh no--those are staying here with me."

"We'll see," his eye dropped in a wink--and then he was gone. His head disappeared between her legs, only the top of the swept-back blonde visible. Teghan lifted her glass, taking a sip of gin as she felt the man's mouth work up the insides of her thighs. She'd give it to him--he was good. She felt his tongue against the outside of her vulva, tracing small patterns between her thighs and her vagina. The shakiness of her breathing increases slightly; his hands went against the outsides of her legs, and his tongue licked up the crease of her vulva, parting her slightly. If nothing else, he was patient. His tongue teased over her bare skin, and she saw the top of his face appear for a moment over her pelvis. His slightly chalky brown eyes looked mischievous. They indicated the glass in her hand.

"Drink at your own pace--I'm done when the drink is."

Before she had a chance to reply, his face disappeared again. She gasped as his open mouth touched her properly for the first time. His tongue rolled, pushing aside the folds of her vulva and stroking against the labia beneath. Teghan relaxed her shoulders against the dividing wall, raising her glass of gin and sipping it as she sat back. Her eyes closed, and she felt a small shudder go through her body as the young man's tongue continued its patient, searching path between her legs. She felt her breathing deepen as it pushed inside of her; about two inches, up and down. The wetness of his tongue mixed with the wetness of her vagina, until she lost any sense of where one ended and the other began. When the tongue pulled out of her and the flat of it licked upward between the folds of her labia, Teghan heard herself moan quietly. It sounded exaggeratedly loud, the sound indecent in the otherwise almost silent room. The only other sound was the young man's breathing between her legs, and the sound of his tongue against her. She took another swallow of her gin between breaths--she took him at his word, and her glass was still nearly full.

Reaching down, she combed the fingers of her free hand through his hair. She felt his mouth close down against her skin, and she cried out as he sucked gently on the topmost part of her labia, his tongue finding her clitoris and grazing it gently. Spreading her knees slightly further, she urged him onward by pressing the back of her butt cheeks firmly against the counter--the sudden tightness in her thighs indicating to him that he was doing something right. Everything right, a small voice laughed chidingly in the back of Teghan's mind; she shoved it aside. Just as she began to feel that the pleasure had reached a plateau, the young man added his fingers.

Teghan gasped as two fingers touched the wet entrance of her vagina, just beneath the man's chin and working mouth. She leaned back slightly further, another moan drawn out of her as his fingers slipped inside. On the counter, Teghan focused on steadying her breathing--she felt suddenly light-headed, but whether it was on account of the liquor or the man's mouth, she couldn't be sure. Her brain went through a quick fact-check; she hadn't seen him handle any of her drinks, and she hadn't looked away--had she?

The thought vanished along with her dizziness, swept away in such a way that left her body feeling light, floating. The fluorescent lights in the room seemed suddenly brighter. The man added a third finger to what was happening below her, and Teghan shuddered involuntarily. He seemed to be trying to lift her with only his fingers; she felt them curl slightly, pressing into the damp warmth between her legs and then pulling out. All the while, his tongue continued to draw slowly tightening circles around her clit. The speed of both motions increased, ever so slightly--and then increased further. On the counter, the cheeks of her bum quivered ever so slightly, sending more obvious vibrations through her legs.

Feeling the change in her body, Peter fingered her properly. She couldn't tell where the motion of his fingers changed, but suddenly she was pressed hard back against the wall of the counter. Her hand tightened in the young man's hair, and her breathing was a series of rising gasps in the otherwise quiet kitchen. He flicked his tongue over her clit--once, twice. Then his mouth began to move, and she felt the pressure of his lips around that of his tongue as his cheeks pulled in and out. For the first time, Teghan understood why it was called eating pussy. Lifting her glass, she swallowed a quick mouthful of the gin. She nearly choked as a tremor went through the bottom of her body, tightening the muscles of her stomach.

"Fuck," her voice was high and breathless, almost a whine, "I'm--I'm going to--"

Her body bucked forward; overhead, the lights flashed. It made Teghan think immediately of the lens-flare effect on video editors. That thought vanished, along with all others, as she bucked upward against the counter. The man's face pressed against her as she pulled forward on his hair and worked her hips against his mouth. Teghan opened her mouth, hearing a sound that she'd never heard from herself before--an unmistakably low, desperate moan. His tongue flattened, and Teghan felt the sudden shiver of it pass upward through her hipbones into her ribs and breasts. Between her legs, his fingers were slick. The muscles of vagina contracted around them as she came, shaking uncontrollably against the counter. She closed her eyes, but her eyelids fluttered slightly. In the sudden darkness, she was left alone with only the sound of her breathing and the feeling of the man's persuasive mouth against her body.

She felt herself slipping. At first, Teghan experience a moment of blinding panic as she thought that she was falling off the counter--her heartbeat steadied only slightly as she jerked upward, realizing that the feeling was only in her mind. The man's tongue continued it's steady motion, his fingers beating a steady rhythm in and out of her. Something between her legs seemed to be beating in time with her heart. Barely cognitive enough to know what she was doing, she lifted her glass and took a mouthful of gin. She swallowed--hard; and slipped. She felt a second climax grip her body, and she folded forward slightly from the wall. The muscles in her stomach felt like elastics, stretched to the point that they would break--and then they broke. She gasped, crying out as she came against the young man's mouth.

Without thinking about what she was doing, she lifted her glass and hurled it across the kitchen. She felt him start slightly as the glass struck the front of the cupboards on the other side of the room. It shattered, bright shards flying--that, Teghan thought. That's what was happening inside of her.

She barely noticed as Peter's mouth disappeared from between her legs. She briefly acknowledged that she was being carried, and thrown down against the bare mattress of her bed. She lay back, focusing on her breathing as her body shuddered while the aftershocks of the preceding orgasm ran through her. She felt a weight descend on the mattress beside her, and she turned her head over to find Peter staring at her, his head propped up a closed hand and his elbow folded against the bed. His expression was unbearably smug, she thought--and it suited him.

Had she thought that he was passably handsome? He was gorgeous; fine-boned, rogueish, and filled with vigorous... It's the orgasm, you idiot.

"Need another drink?" He grinned.

"Shut up--" her voice still sounded slightly breathless, to her own ears.

Suddenly, she became very aware that the man was hard. His erection was pressed against her bare thigh through the fabric of his sweatpants. Pushing herself up, she flipped over so that she was kneeling over the man's knees. Hooking her fingers into the waistband of his sweatpants, she pulled them down his legs. She felt the pressure of his penis against the front of the fabric, and it jumped upward as it pulled free. She kicked his pants down over the bed. Leaning up, she touched her tongue to the base of his penis and ran it upward over the bottom. She reached the top, opened her mouth--and hesitated. It was the space of two heartbeats. Just as she went to lower her mouth, the man's hands reached down and up, catching her head. His palms pressed against her cheeks, but his touch was gentle. His fingers stroked back through her hair, around her ears. She raised her face to meet his. The expression on his face was probably indescribable, she thought--it was somewhere between hunger and hesitation, but sharper than either. A knot formed in Teghan's stomach, and in her throat.

"You don't have to," she felt the pressure of his hands intensify, still gentle but now insistent. He seemed to be trying to lift her up his body, "Don't."

"But I--"

"Am perfect," he spoke over her, interrupting what she had been about to say, "Come here, 3am."

His use of that name suddenly didn't sound so insulting, when he said it in that tone of voice--it was understanding, and impossibly gentle. It made the hard knot in Teghan's stomach tighten further. She thought she might be sick. She let him guide her upward, crawling up his body until they were face to face. He let one hand fall away from her face, using two fingers of the other one to stroke the slightly damp hair back from her temple and behind the top curve of her ear. Teghan thoughts spun, confusion and longing and guilt and relief and distress all spinning together in a kaleidoscope that left her feeling suddenly breathless once more. She looked into the boy's brown eyes, made to look soft by the light of the streetlamps that came in through the window above the bed. He touched the palm of his hand to her cheek, holding it there--it was a gesture far too familiar, far too intimate for what this was supposed to be. Teghan felt her body shaking, and it was a completely different sensation than what it had been before, on the counter.

"It's okay," he smiled in the way that showed off the narrow hooks of his metal teeth, "we've all got shit."

"But everybody--"

"Fuck everybody," his voice was soft, but suddenly forceful. His brown eyes stared at her seriously, "fuck them." He pressed his hand against her cheek, "This isn't about anybody else. It's you and me--don't do shit you don't want to."

And then she was crying. Her hands clutched at the thin fabric over the young man's shoulders, and she buried her face against his chest. Her tears left dark marks against the bleach-burned grey of his shirt as she shook. She didn't know where it came from--whether it was a sudden outpouring of emotion from her orgasm previously, or whether it was something about the young man's voice that she had never heard from anybody else before. She clung to him like a person in a violent river clings to a piece of driftwood. One of his arms was wrapped around her back, holding her against him. The other one was running through her hair. She could hear him soothing her; and it took her a moment to realize that it wasn't his voice, but only the steady, deep sound of him exhaling against the top of her head. She felt his hot breath against her scalp, felt the rise and fall of his chest below her. Raising her head, she scrubbed the back of her wrist over her cheeks and pressed it against each of her eyes.

"Sorry, I..." her voice faltered, "I don't know where that came from."

"I do," he pressed his lips down against the top of her head, firmly.