ccaamm!

Kai was kind, to the extent of missing the subtle hints girls threw at him casually, as if it was not blatantly obvious how taken he was. You could be all but draped across his lap, fingers brushing back his hair, tucking it behind his ear, whispering sweet nothings, and they would still ogle him from across the room, counting down the seconds until you swept away to the bathroom so they could ask for his number.

It happened almost every time you watched him order your drinks, leaning over the bar, casual in his waiting, looking over his shoulder to make sure that you hadn’t moved, that you hadn’t been picked up by some other man waiting for him to leave. You had the keen ability of avoidance, blaming the loud music, or your outright distaste as an excuse not to turn to lame attempts at retrieving your number. But Kai was a puppy, so ready to help, so willing to hear out the next girl's whine at her glass being empty, or help clean the accidental spill they just so happened to make when reaching out to touch his shoulder.

He never could hear over the music; you knew this from the number of times you would have to repeat yourself in one of the back booths. Every time he missed something, he would give the same look, lips slightly pouted, and pink, eyes wide as if it would help him pull in whatever you were saying, and he would lean in, tilting his ear just a centimeter closer to his shoulder, and listen, wait. You loved it, talking low on purpose just so he would pull you closer, turn all his attention towards you as if you hadn’t already had it before.

It was a part of his charm, his attention to the smallest sign of distress, no matter how played up it was. And you would watch them, how casual it all seemed, as this girl at the bar held up a menu, pointing a manicured finger at the five listed drinks: old-fashioned, dry martini, negroni, gin and tonic, the infamous rum and coke, the basic menu from here to the local bar carts in homes all across the world. You didn't even need to be next to him to know how he would hum in question, tilting his head, leaning in, listening, wanting to help, no matter how small.

The girl would mutter something, laugh as if she couldn’t believe how tiny the menu was, questioning, "What do you recommend?" And Kai would answer with a shrug, commenting something along the lines of " my girlfriend gets…" or "my girlfriend always recommends…" because you found that your jealousy did not bloom from anything he did, not when he found any excuse to mention you in conversation without even trying, but it came from some bitter twisted possessive part of you that seethed at the sight of girls still attempting to flirt with him when you had left a clear iridescent kiss stain on the edge of his jaw from your lips gloss in plain view.

Sometimes it was true, you were a bit ridiculous, jealous over nothing, letting it stew until Kai kissed you, or let his hand slip into the back pocket of your jeans. Sometimes they really were just asking for recommendations, but more likely than not, you knew the next question coming, the smile, the eyes, the "and your name is?…" that followed. It was his sweet nature that made him smile, the manners you would never want to change in him that led him to answer, time and time again.

It was only when they offered to write their number down, asked for his phone to enter it, or vice versa, that he finally understood. He would flush all over, pink and stuttering, looking over at you, pointing in your direction, declaring, "Oh no no no, I have a girlfriend," picking up your drinks and offering them luck with their menu choices before leaving back to you, where he belonged.

You never blamed him, not when he had been so clueless to your advances, not even after stealing kisses and hours of time together; he hadn’t believed you wanted him as badly as he wanted you.

Maybe it should have gotten easier after seeing it happen so often, enough so you knew the routine, knew how they would watch him walk away, eyes tracing the line of his body, his broad shoulders, his back. You had mastered the glowering response you shot back over your shoulder time and time again; the saying never had come true, but if looks could kill, you didn't think you'd mind the devastation if it meant he’d still be yours.

"What's the matter?" Kai asked, setting your drinks down, siding into the same side of the booth as you, fingers cold from the condensation on the glasses, as he rested his hand on your thigh, tracing the same mindless pattern he knew you were so fond of.

"Nothing," you lied, slinking your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, not caring about the spectacle of PDA, not when he responded so well. Maybe you felt a little guilty about it, but it was only after the first few kisses, the ones where your eyes were open, looking across the bar, for only as long as it took for the recipient of your death glare to finally back down.

You knew he liked it, the jealousy that coiled out of you and curled around him as warm as your fingers curling into fists. Kai would never admit it, not after the first time with how flushed he had been, confused, concerned, and inevitably turned on. Sure, he didn't know exactly when he was being hit on entirely, he found the fine line of flirting and friendly miles away when they were in fact blurry, but what he knew was that you turned into another person in this bar. You had never kept yourself hidden from the fact that you wanted him, but here, under the hazy, warm, golden glow of the low lights, you needed him.

What was your jealousy if not a reflection of the need to have him, claim him? Maybe it should have turned him away, but it put a spot light over the fact that you too felt as clingy as he secretly wished he could display to you day to day without the fear of you turning him away. Here, under the watchful eyes of women who wanted him, and men who wanted you, both of you felt raw and vulnerable. So you took charge, soaking into the possession, and he loved it. loved the way you leaned into him, fingers curling into his hair, tugging enough to make the strands messy, tugging enough to make him groan in the back of his throat.

In the corner of the room, like this, no one could see over the lip of the booth you sat against, no one unless they walked this far back. So you leaned into kissing him, closing your eyes, your slow gentle kisses melting him until all he can think is how warm you are, how soft your thigh under his fingertips feels along the hem of your short-short skirt.

It always went like this, right until the moment you slipped your tongue into his mouth, the moment when you widened your thighs by only a millimeter, but he could tell, he always could. He would pull away, pressing his forehead to yours as if it pained him to tell you no. because it did, and just as you knew the script would go, he muttered, "We can't," as if he never had before.

"Why?" It was not a real question, not one he needed to answer, not that he could as you kissed the edge of his lips, making him stutter.

"b-because," you dragged a hand down the front of his chest, feeling the rise and fall under your palm as you tilted your head, kissing his jaw, right over the spot your lip gloss had stained. His lashes flutter, mind short-circuiting at the ghosting of your teasing mouth. He had no good argument, not one better than they might see, but you had disproven that only a month or two ago, the first time he had broken, so hard in his jeans that he didn't care who saw, so long as you wrapped your fingers around him and not the cold glass you would have reached for if he denied you.

You had giggled then, so cruel as he whimpered low enough for only you to hear, your lips kissing over the mole on his neck, peppering him with praise until he was almost crying, his lashes so heavy with unfallen tears, eyes rimmed red, nose and lips to match as he twisted his mouth shut, fighting with everything in him not to moan as loudly as you deserved to hear, as loudly as you wanted him to, just prove a point.

No one had seen the way he had finished, his face pressed into the hollow of your neck, his groans vibrating against your collarbone, the sound drowned out by the music, and you had gotten everything you had wanted, cleaning away the cum on the back of your hand with a cocktail napkin.

You hadn’t let him live it down. Gone was the shy boy who had blushed at you holding hands in front of his friends, and here was the man who let you jerk him off slowly under the table of a bar.

"You loved it last time," you whispered right along the shell of his ear, the hair was rising on the back of his neck, like all eyes would be on him, and he just realized how much he liked the idea, that if anyone would see they would know that you had wanted him enough to not even wait until you made it home to the sanctity of your bedroom. "or do you need a reminder?" your hand slipped along the front of his stomach, nails scratching a trail like a reminder that you were real, and so willing.

He dropped his free hand not on your thigh, to grab your wrist, to stop you from moving lower, from discovering how easy he was, how hard you had gotten him. he tried to say something, anything, but he was like a fish, opening and closing his mouth, attempting to grasp onto some reality, something that wasn't a denial.

You loved this, loved it because it was not something he gave to everyone, it was not a friendly attempt at help, giving into casual conversation to please, but an attempt at keeping himself in check from needing you. Maybe it should have been for your eyes only, something you never wanted anyone to see, even by accident, but with your blood still radiating with jealousy, you didn't care. instead you let a single finger fall to his zipper, applying little pressure, dragging down and down until he shivered, eyebrows pulling in like a plea for you to have mercy on him. Only you couldn't tell if it was to stop or continue.

"Want me to stop?" you asked so innocently, like you were concerned for him. But he knew you, the same as you knew him. You knew his answer, could tell how desperate he was already feeling by the way he started to move his hips, unnoticeable if he hadn’t used the hold he had on your hand to press your palm flat against the aching bulge in his pants.

"N-no," it was the only word he could get out, his nails digging into the soft flesh of your inner thigh. He dropped his head, hair falling into his eyes as he caught sight of the way your skin looked between his fingers, his knuckles red, disappearing under the hem of your skirt.

He was shy in his touching but not unskilled, fingers dipping closer and closer until connecting right against the shameless wet spot on your panties. Kai groaned, low and heady. To him, this was a heaven he never should have entered; he didn't deserve you, didn't deserve this. It was all he could think of as you unzipped his pants, hand so warm as you found his already leaking cock, and pressed your thumb right against his slit to watch him crumble.

You leaned in to kiss him again, to swallow down the sound of his tearful whine. He hated the teasing, the slow movements, the swirl of your thumb, but like this, it needed to go slow; any faster, and he wouldn't recover, and you wouldn't have much fun.

Kai tried to match the slow drags of your hand on him, to replicate the sensation against your clit, and he knew he had you the moment your hips began to move in time with his. He pushed past your panties, sliding his fingers along the seam of you, teasing until you knew it was payback, until you knew he wanted you to fall right next to him. The lights, the music, started to fade, his attention focused on the way you had to break the kiss to gasp, his mouth chasing the sound until you were flustered, muttering, "Not so shy about people seeing now, are you?"

He didn't even attempt to dignify himself with a clever response, not when he finally pushed his fingers into your cunt, curling just right to hear you moan into his mouth, your thighs closing around his wrist, and he couldn't help but mutter, "You're so fucking perfect." 

It went straight to your head, his soft voice like a thank you to an answered prayer, like he hadn’t expected himself to confess so easily. Your grip on his cock tightened just enough for him to whimper, just enough for him to realize you weren't going to play nice, no matter how innocent he acted. "Really?" you hum, kissing him once, twice, as a distraction before you accused, "because sometimes you don't make it seem that way," 

kais response is quick, like you had slapped him, he whines, trying to pull away from your kiss even when he didn't want to, shaking his head like he had done some great disservice to you, your relationship. "What-"

"Giving all these other girls your attention," you flick your wrist, hand cupped right over his tip, ready to pull away as you mutter, "Do you really think I wouldn't notice?" 

Kai gapes, blinking back at you like he can't believe what you're saying, the heel of his palm pressed to your clit, his fingers still moving slowly like they are following his train of thought. "But- I- I wasn't-" he’s flushed pink, the blush creeping up his neck from embarrassment, "she only asked a question." 

"and you leaned in…" you mimicked the movement, pushing in closer than he had, until your chest was pressed up against him, his eyes flickering down to your low-cut top, to the uneven rise and fall of his chest in comparison to your steady breathing. "giving her all your attention while I sit here, alone," you press your nose to the soft spot just below his ear, the scent of his cologne washing over you so dizzying like this as he whimpers like you've wounded him. 

"I-I'm sorry, baby, please, I was just-" you roll your hips on his hand, his fingers having stilled at his attempt at apologizing, and you only chuckle, half choked as he understands what you want, what you need, meeting your movements and helping you ride his fingers even as he’s struggling to find words. 

"Helping her?" you add for him, matching his pace, jerking your fist on him slowly until he’s attempting to fuck up into your hand, "like I'm helping you?" you press your thumb right against his slit again, until he jolts, biting his lip hard enough to hurt, and you're glad the music is loud enough to cover the strangled cry he hopelessly tried to cover. "do you think she could handle you like this? too needy for your own good, desperate enough to get jerked off in a bar than wait until we at least get to the car. greedy enough to have your hand shoved up my skirt. I mean, look at you," 

Kai shakes his head, his eyes pinching shut, adams apple bobbing up and down as he swallows down his pitiful whimpering. "can't even control yourself. How quick until you cum on my hand? Last time it didn't take long, you remember that, huh? You didn't even have the decency to finger me then, maybe you didn't think you could get me off as quickly as you can when we are alone," you nip at his skin, kissing over the spots growing cold as you whisper, "performance anxiety? Or are you just that lazy?" 

The memory is all but hazy as it surfaces, just how embarrassed he had been then, how he had let you have him so easily, how he had still been hard as you tucked him back into his jeans, how you had to walk in front of him as you left, how when you let him fuck you he couldn’t help but finish just as fast. The lewd nature of what you had done in the bar still played through in his mind until he couldn’t help but imagine everyone knowing you had been his and his alone if he had only been crazy enough to touch you back right there in the same booth you sat now. 

"I'm sorry-" he gasped, tears welling, fingers picking up their pace, finding the perfect spot and pressing, and pressing. "I'll be better-" 

"Will you?" You can hardly ask, throat tight with a moan you shamelessly want to let out, you didn't even care who heard anymore, not when this was your favorite part. Kai broke so neatly, snapped down the middle like perforated chocolate, until all you wanted to do was sink your teeth in, and he would never deny being devoured by you. 

He nodded dumbly, lips kiss-swollen, searching for yours, and just as you were about to lean in, you pulled your hand away entirely. "Prove it." 

His hips bucked, trying to chase your hand, to find the warmth, to do anything but have his cock fall to his stomach, his dribbling pre-cum staining his shirt. Sweat was already pearling at his temples, your name a plea he cried just loud enough you're sure that anyone who was listening would hear. You shushed him, pressing your hand to his thigh, squeezing almost as hard as he was squeezing yours, "You don't want us to get in trouble, do you?" 

He leaned back, pressing as much of his back to the booth seat as he could without exposing too much of the profanity taking place between you two. His head fell back, his neck rolling with his swallow as he tried to regain his composure. But you followed his movements, keeping yourself firmly seated on his fingers, rocking back and forth to a new rhythm, watching the first tear slip from the corner of his eye, tracing a line down his cheekbone. "Are you crying?" 

He took the question as a demand to continue, your statement rocking him back to reality. Prove it, and he would do just that, even as you reached back down for him, your fingertip so light along the length of his cock, dragging up and down until his lips were curling in and he couldn’t breathe. 

Maybe you should have gone easier on him, saved the teasing for your bedroom, where you could really hear his crying, but watching him try to hold it back was so much better. Maybe if you had gone easier on him, he would have gone easier on you, because he found himself pressing in, crowding you with his body, catching your mouth moments before you squealed. His free hand that had been keeping your thigh warm was now taking over the spot on your clit where the heel of his palm had been pressed, long fingers rolling over the bud while the other hand hit the spot that flicked your brain off. 

Your free hand twisted a fist into his hair, trying to find anything to ground you as your stomach tightened, and without a second thought, you came, cunt fluttering around his fingers, legs pulling closed around his wrist, holding him in place as you whimpered into his mouth. With your orgasm still rippling through you, he kept his touch pressed to your clit, wanting to swallow down the approval each moan sounds like. 

its only a few breaths later when you reach down and tug his hand free from your pussy, both of you breaking the kiss to watch his fingers come away slick with your arousal, to watch the way you guide his hand down to his own cock, curling his fingers around the base and using your wetness to make every drag feel like he was closer to spilling out before you. 

You had caught him only once with his fist so tight around himself, your name coming from his open mouth, his breathing so ragged it had knocked the wind out of you. he had been desperate, trying to get off before you had even come home, before you could catch him. Every pull had been desperate and uneven, and now, aided by the slick on his fingers, you guided him back to that place. 

His hand was so much larger than yours, not as soft, and when you left him to fuck into his fist alone, he wanted to cry all over again, to beg you louder, apologize all over again until you too grabbed his cock again, both of you now flicking your wrists, your hand swirling, "are you going to just cry or are you going to cum for me like a good boy?" 

He chased his high, hips punching up into both of your fists, and when he came, cum spilling over the back of your hand, onto your thighs and his, he cursed, pressing his face into your neck to muffle the sound, his whole body shaking even as he stopped his movements and let you slowly push him into the perfect mix of overstimulation and ecstasy that he had been waiting for. 

"Aw, look at that," you teased, kissing his heated cheek, "now everyone will know you're mine since you just couldn’t help yourself." It didn't even matter who had started it, or why, or even that it was wrong; you had gotten your point across and dissolved your jealousy like sugar in warm water, and he loved it.