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Like There's No One Around

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Adam poses dutifully for the picture, and laughs when she gets her cell phone back and stuffs it into her bra.

“I always forget that I should put pockets on these things.” She smiles wickedly at him, gesturing towards her crotch which is barely covered by red and black fabric.

He grins, brings both his hands to the small of her back, and pulls her closer. She laughs, draping her arms around his neck.

Adam turns his head, and rests his cheek against her arm. Raja is standing a few feet away, and she winks at him, raising her glass. No one else seems to be paying any attention to what’s going on in the corners of the room.

Most of the people are pretty drunk by now. They’re not the only couple that have retreated to the shadows,  though possibly they are the only ones with innocent intentions.

She moves, trying to free herself from his grasp. He holds her tighter and makes a protesting noise that’s asking her to stay as clearly as if he had actually spoken the words. She laughs, and leans forward so he will hear her quiet words over the noise of the party.

“You feeling lonely, honey?”

He turns his head so he can look at her again, nodding. She smiles, and combs the fingers of her right hand through his hair. He closes his eyes, and rests his head against the back of the chair.

He isn’t looking for anything more from her, just wants to feel her warmth for a while. He’s found over the course of the past year that “it’s lonely at the top” is not really as cliché as some people think. It’s not that he has a shortage of people willing to warm his bed, it’s more that anyone that approaches him seems to be expecting something from him. And he can’t handle that; he has enough pressures and demands without adding unnecessary ones.

But Sonique is safe. Maybe slightly star struck, maybe a little more attentive than someone totally unfazed by his fame would be, but he can tell she doesn’t expect anything.

He likes the weight of her body in his lap, the feel of her soft skin against his fingers, the fruity scent of her perfume.

He lifts his head, and presses a gentle kiss to her shoulder. Nothing sexual, just thankful appreciation of her undemanding closeness.

She turns her head, brushing her lips against his cheek. “You really are gorgeous, you know.”

His reply is a mirthful “heh”. He leans back again but she follows the movement, sticks her tongue out to lick his earlobe.

“I mean that.”

He smiles. “Not bad yourself, you know.”

She pulls back, moves her hands to his shoulders , rubs them gently. His head falls back again, his body arching slightly against hers.

“Oh honey, when was the last time someone took care of you?”

So much for nothing sexual.

But he finds that he doesn’t mind too much.

He’s drunk-hazy, feeling good about himself after a few weeks off. The party is full of colorful people, he has good friends close by. It feels almost like he’s has been transported back into his past.

Back to a time where he could have a nameless encounter in the shadows without worrying about the pictorial evidence spreading like wildfire across the internet.

“Been a while,” he admits, with a small shrug and a sheepish grin.

It’s an open invitation. She can take it if she wants to. He feels reckless tonight, uncaring of the risks.

He’ll be sober enough to face the consequences in the morning, he hopes.

“Oh yeah?”

She raises an eyebrow, her eyes sweeping across the room, making sure no one is watching them before she leans down to brush her lips to his.

He opens up to her kiss easily, arches into her soft body, shudders as her fingers ghost against the nape of his neck. Everything else starts to fade away as her tongue slides wet and warm against his own.

Her hands run down his arms, creeps in between their bodies, fingers finding their way in under his shirt. They feel hot against his skin, tickling lightly, and he tries to writhe away from her touch with a quiet whimper.

“Easy, honey, easy.”

Her mouth is right next to his ear as she murmurs to him, her hands stilling on his stomach. Then she moves down, her lips and tongue teasing his neck, making his breath catch. She comes back to his mouth, their lips locking in a messy kiss full of lipgloss and tongue as her hands move down to unbutton his pants.

He whimpers again, his hips rocking up against her, her soothing ‘I know, I know’ swallowed in the kiss. Her fingers dip into his underwear to close around his length, and he whines as she starts stroking him, his blunt nails digging into her bare back.

His head lulls to the side, breaking their kiss, her lips finding his neck instead, and he tilts his head to expose more of his skin to her. Her teeth nip at his pulse with just enough force to be felt but not enough for the mark to last beyond this encounter.

“Oh. Fuck.”

He manages to force his eyes open to see that no one is paying them any attention (or at least if anyone is they’re politely pretending not to be), but then they fall shut again as her tongue finds that one spot behind his ear that makes him lose control of his body.

He whines softly, his hips rising to meet her hand, his hands still relentlessly pressing into her back. Her lips are back on his again, her tongue thrusting into his mouth at the same pace her hand is stroking him, and he is aware of nothing but her touches and the sound of his own quick pulse beating in his ear.

He comes with a half-sob, half-moan that isn’t loud enough to break far beyond the barrier of their kiss, her hand stroking him through the aftershocks. When his body stills she sits up and reaches for a tissue someone had left on the table beside them.

He blinks his eyes open, watching her as she re-buttons his pants and straightens his clothes. He doesn’t know what to say or do so he settles for a simple “thank you.”

This is the point where people normally get clingy, expecting to be brought back to his bed or at the very least for him to take their phone number and actually use it sometime.

But Sonique simply leans forward to press a quick kiss to his lips, winks and mouths “Any time” at him, and then she slides off his lap and weaves her way back into the crowd of mingling bodies.