Black cat is watching you

The bar was stunning - no doubt impressive by design - and Johnny looked even better. He’d thrown on a well-tailored shirt, brown belt and jeans, and styled his signature ‘do with just enough care that it looked, somehow, completely different from during class.

I’d done myself up a bit much, too - throwing in every piercing I had (and there were a fair few - lip, nose, multiple in the ears, eyebrow…) and tugging on a carefully curated outfit. The skirt was short enough to be tantalizing without being too much, the sweater I’d chosen was elegant but understated, and the platform boots gave me that bit of edge I thought he might appreciate. And lipstick that I’d been told made men really notice the lip ring.

“Look. At. You.” He purred. “Pretty as the day is long.” He sidled up to me at the stools. “Can’t tell you how much it means that you said yes.”

I startled, sloshing my whiskey dangerously when he spoke, his arm wrapping around me in that overly familiar way he somehow managed to pull off every time.

“I… can’t say I was expecting it.” I admitted, cursing myself as I did. “I thought you’d go for someone like Kara instead.”

“Kara’s with Kyle.” He shrugged. “Besides, I kind of like the expressive ones.” He grinned wickedly.

My mouth flapped open and closed, proving him mortifyingly correct.

“Drink, fishie.” He chuckled, tilting my glass back up toward my lips. “Or else you won’t speak at all.”

“That’s not true!” I sputtered but took a large sip of my whiskey regardless. “I’m- I’m cool!”

“Aye, you’re very cool.” He smiled, eyes like fucking water the way they shimmered with warmth and barely disguised amusement.

I huffed, slugging the rest of my drink. “You know what-?”

“What?”

I swallowed my retort. “Drink.” I said, flagging down the bartender. “Arsehole.”

“I will.” He chuckled. “Lightweight.”

“What’re you drinking, anyway?” He leaned close, sniffing. “Ah, bourbon. Not a bad choice. Though I’m a fan of a good beer, myself.” He plucked the glass from my hand, taking a sip. “Yeah, definitely a beer.” He said after a moment’s consideration.

“What beer do you typically go for?” I asked, feeling stupider by the second.

“Any pub ale is fine, really. Lagers. Like the taste to be… inoffensive. Easier to drink more that way.” He nodded at the bartender, ordering his own drink. “You?”

“Whiskey and beer are the only things that don’t make me feel like shit the next morning.” I admitted. “I’m getting so old.”

He laughed, then. “You don’t look a day over 26.”

“Oh, good. Because I’m 25.” I wrinkled my nose as I smiled.

“Oof, are you really?”

“No,” I laughed. “I’m a solid 32.”

“Phew,” he wiped his brow dramatically. “Not robbing the cradle.” He chuckled, thanking the bartender and accepting his drink. “You never know - those girls at the studio are persistent, and they don’t always have the best intentions, if you catch my drift.”

“I catch it.” I replied. “Though…” I said sheepishly, “I’d be lying if I didn’t admit the first thought that crossed my mind was how unfair it was that you four were so hot.”

“Same for me.” He matched my sheepish look. “I’m not supposed to, of course. Professionalism and all. But knowing you were with Kara I figured I’d take a chance. I mean, you looked badass in that little camo set you were wearing.”

I laughed. “Oh, I bought that to wear under my airsoft gear.” I admitted. He perked up.

“You do airsoft?” He sharpened, as if I’d hit on something important.

“I do.” I nodded. “Can’t shoot real guns, so this is second-best.”

He nodded. “GBB or AEP?”

Oh. I sharpened as well, grinning. “AEP and I won’t hear shit about it.”

“Milsim or speedsoft?”

“Neither. Almost exclusively CQB in a warehouse.”

“Choose.”

“Speedsoft.”

He threw his head into his hands dramatically, groaning, “Two wrong answers in a row, hen. How could you do this to me?” He sighed, shaking his head dramatically once more. “I can’t believe I nearly proposed on the spot. That would’ve been a mistake.” He peeked up at me with a smirk.

“Probably,” I replied airily, happily ordering another drink. “Can’t believe you’re a milsimmer.” I tutted. “Lemme guess, you dress up as a big, scary operative and wear a balaclava with a demon on it.”

“No,” he looked scandalized. “I’ll have you know our team is called Ghost Recon and I wear a skull.”

“Like the big guy you work with?”

“Who, Simon? Yeah, like him. We’re on a team together. We match.”

“How beautiful. I’ll gladly go to your wedding.”

“Shut up.”

We both laughed.

He was easy to get to know - the only problem was that we were getting increasingly drunk. I leaned over the bar, asking the bartender with a bit too much force, “Do you have a menu? Something to nosh on?”

He nodded, probably mentally calculating when to cut me off, and handed me a sleek menu in a plastic and leather sleeve.

“Fancy.” I sat back in my stool with a bit too much force.

“Alright?” He settled a hand on my lower back, clearly less affected than I was.

“’m alright.” I replied, planting myself firmly on my elbows as I perused the menu. “One order of fries with the aioli flight,” I ordered, “aaaand… a mushroom cheeseburger with onion rings.”

He ordered nothing, apparently content to watch me eat like a ravenous wolverine. And eat like a ravenous wolverine I did, too drunk to care about being pretty. He propped himself up on his elbow, watching me with a small, soft smile.

“’scuse me.” He said as he tipped my chin toward him with a finger - swiping the corner of my mouth with his thumb and sucking the aioli off of it. “Hm, guess I’ll nick a couple of your fries after all.” He said, soft and silky as anything.

I stared; eyes wide and cheek stuffed with food. “Have at.” I said after a long moment, feeling more like prey with each moment that his eyes locked on my lips.

“Thanks.” His smile was positively sinful as he took it, eyes never leaving mine. “You have good taste.” He said after swallowing.

I’ve no clue what possessed me to reply, “You, too.”

“I know.” He took another sip of his beer. “So,” he leaned back suddenly, that specific look vanishing to be replaced by one wholly dissimilar - the teasing, playful look from earlier today. “Tell me, are you enjoying yoga?”

“Oh, uh… yeah.” I replied, mirroring his enthusiasm in his drink. “My back’s stopped hurting, I can actually stand on one foot without toppling. Overall, definitely a worthwhile pursuit.”

“Good, good.” He chuckled. “You know, yoga’s good for those sorts of things. People think it’s spiritual, and I can’t speak to that being false, but I find the best benefit is just how good you feel after. Don’t you feel, I dunno, more energetic?”

“You seem like you have plenty of energy without it.” I commented dryly. The drink was making me mean.

He leaned forward, unperturbed. “Oh, I do.” He grinned wickedly. “Enough stamina to last all. Night. Long.”

I giggled. “That’s rather forward.” I replied, eyes glinting.

“Sorry, do you want me to be a bit coyer?” He pulled back, crossing arms over his chest. “I can do that,” he said with a smirk. “You look beautiful tonight, you know. And you’d do me an honor if you’d allow me to take you home.”

Goddammit, that worked on me. I clenched my jaw, biting back a nervous grin. “Wow, with that accent you almost sound sincere.” I sniped.

“Tease.” He replied.

“Rake.” I countered.

“Guilty.” He leaned forward once more, taking my drink and bringing it to my lips one more time. “C’mon, hen, meet me at my level. I pre-gamed for this, made sure I wasn’t too nervous. Can’t have you more sober’n me when I finally bend you over and-”

“Another?” The bartender interrupted us. I jumped. Even Johnny had the wherewithal to look a little abashed.

“Yes, please.” I said, taking my glass from Johnny, finishing it, and handing it back to the bartender. “A rye this time, please.”

“And you, sir?”

“The same.” He replied, cheeks tinging pink. “Thanks.”

And with that we were left alone once more, though the illusion had been shattered. Johnny laughed, cheeks still ruddy. “Well, glad to see you can keep up.”

“Barely.” I laughed in turn; certain my face was an unattractive tomato red by this point. “You’re rather adept at the whole flirting thing, huh?”

“Keeps customers returning to the studio.” He admitted, rubbing his neck. “Guess I forget to turn it off sometimes.”

“I get that.” I returned. “I worked in property management. Never an easier sell than a tight skirt and nice calves.”

He nodded. “Well, there we are, then.”

“I might give you one piece of feedback.” I offered, smiling in spite of myself. “You know, a lady such as myself gets a little flustered when a guy won’t stop talking about bending her over various surfaces and ravishing her.”

“And here romance novels were teaching me that ladies love being ravished.”

"When the mood strikes." I shrugged. "Though you seem about ready to take a bite out of me."

"I am." He admitted blithely. "How could I not? You just look like you taste better than you look. And you look pretty damn tasty."

"Jesus," I chuckled. "At least buy me dinner first."

"I'm trying, hen." He laughed in his own right, pulling a menu toward us both. "Now, are you more of a chocolate person, or a vanilla person?"

"Oh, no, no dessert for me. I'm stuffed." I shook my head. "But if you want some of this burger... It's got truffle sauce on it."

He gave me an unreadable look for a moment, then took a large swallow of his drink and pulled my plate toward him. "Don't mind if I do." His grin was positively radiant after that first bite. "Hm, I don't think I'll mind tasting this on your lips after all." He polished off the half-burger, remaining onion rings, and half and plate’s worth of fries without a second thought. It was my turn to watch as he ate.

Holy shit, we're practically the same person. I chuckled to myself. A realization struck me.

"Did you want to see if I'd finish all of that food myself before you ordered?"

"Aye, well," he swallowed loudly, "My eyes are typically larger than my stomach. Wanted to see if you could house more food than me."

"And?"

"You're a worthy fighter, but no, I can still eat more than you."

"Ah, well at least I have my femininity, still." I snorted, taking another sip of my drink with a contented sigh as I sagged, content, over the bar. "I haven't had a meal like this in so long." I groaned. "I just don't get a reason to go out much anymore, you know?" His answering gaze was one of unadulterated confusion.

"No." He replied. "My mates and I go out once a week, usually."

"The other guys from the studio?"

"Yeah." He gestured to the bartender for the check. "We've known one another for years, now. Just makes sense."

"I couldn't imagine going to drinks and dinner with my coworkers. After a full day of work, I usually just want to be left alone." I laughed.

"Well, you have to enjoy your coworkers' company before it's worth it." He agreed. "And I do. I'd take a bullet for those boys. No question."

I hummed thoughtfully. "That's lovely." I finally said sincerely.

"Not as lovely as you. Come on, now." He hopped off his stool, holding out a hand. "Let's go back to mine."

"Yeah, alright." I took his hand. "Why not?"

---

For all his flirting, he was a beast. He hardly waited for the door to close before pinning me to the wall.

“Jesus,” I laughed as he nipped at my neck, “You don’t waste time, do you?”

“Not really.” He murmured into my skin, nipping another pink mark into my shoulder. He reached down to grasp at my ass, trailing his hand to haul my thigh up and over his hipbone. Bourbon loosened my anxieties, allowing me to melt into his touch without reservation. He, by contrast, hardly seemed bothered by something as trivial as being gentle.

“Up.” He demanded, his other hand grasping greedily. I wrapped my arms around his neck, giggling as I awkwardly hoisted myself up.

“Like this?” I asked. He didn’t reply, instead crushing his lips against mine once more. Quickly, our clumsy drunken kisses devolved into messier affairs punctuated with needy panting and soft exclamations.

“I still taste that burger.” He quipped, readjusting me up with a soft grunt and carrying me toward the bed.

“I can believe that.” I returned, running my tongue up the leaping tendon in his neck as he focused on not dropping me. He deposited me with little ceremony on the surprisingly soft mattress of his bed. The duvet, a bachelor’s deep blue polyfil-stuffed monstrosity I hadn’t seen on a man's bed in almost ten years, gave way beneath us both as he blanketed me in his bulk. I groaned as he reached for my skirt, fumbling for the zipper without so much as a pause.

“Wait-” I gasped. “Shoes.”

“Shoes?” He blinked up at me stupidly. Then, glancing down, he confirmed, “Shoes.” He reached for the zippers there instead, sliding them down hastily. Everything about this encounter was endearingly rushed, as if he couldn’t hold himself back from the physical need of being inside of me.

Part of me hoped he didn’t think this was a one-off thing.

Part of me didn’t care - because either way I’d get fucked halfway to Sunday.

His hands reached up, taking liberties in tugging off my panties before I’d even had a chance to see those muscles I’d been admiring for weeks in all their glory. I levered myself upright, scrabbling for the hem of his sweater. His hands brushed mine as he tugged it off, once more eagerly bending to kiss me.

I sighed softly as his kisses softened, one hand reaching up to tangle itself in my hair. He slowed, his breath hot against my lips as he began to glide his unoccupied hand over my side.

“You’re fucking beautiful.” He murmured, his tongue pressing gently against my lower lip.

I found myself taken aback by how much I enjoyed his tongue mapping the shape of my mouth. It felt like he wanted to consume me. And I found myself wanting to be consumed.

“Johnny,” I forced my eyes open once more when he pulled away. “Shirt. Off.” My mind cleared just long enough for me to reach for his belt.

It devolved further from there, both of us messily trying to undress the other. We bumped ungainly limbs together, accidentally catching hair and skin alike in zippers and fingernails, until both of us were completely nude and absolutely mad with lust.

I scrambled up to the headboard, spreading my legs easily for him.

“One second.” He breathed, reaching into the nightstand. Condom. Lube. But set aside.

“Ah.” I smirked knowingly. “Gonna get mine, then?”

“And then some.” He promised, crawling toward me. I bit back a giggle as his hands skimmed my thighs.

The giggle died in my throat when he bent his head, soft lips following rough hands. I let my eyes flutter shut as I surrendered to the feeling of being absolutely, completely worshiped.

“Jesus,” I parroted my earlier statement.

“I know how to treat a lady.” He chuckled, his tongue tracing just to the left of where it should have been.

“Sure do.” I sighed, head lolling to the side as his hands slid once more over my thighs. “Or, well…”

“To be determined.” He supplied knowingly.

“Mm.” I replied intelligently as his tongue pressed softly against my clit, erasing any clever response I could have hoped to form. It wasn’t that it felt so delicious, but rather that the promise it broadcast…

“Oh, shit!” I nearly leapt out of my skin as he dragged the firm point of his tongue over the exposed, sensitive underside of my clit. “Careful,” I admonished. “Sensitive.”

“Gathering data,” he replied, muffled against my skin. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Mhm.” I reached down to tug at his mohawk. “Gather less data.” I demanded in turn.

“Yes, ma’am.” He chuckled. And with little further fanfare, he feasted.

At some point fingers joined the fray, and I came two? three? times before he pulled away, grinning.

“Good?” He waggled his eyebrows.

“Good.” I panted, giggling.

He crawled back over me, kissing me easily. I clutched him close, sighing into the kiss as my hand grasped at his waist, tugging him between my thighs. We barely managed to slip on a condom and lube up before he was inside of me, one hand braced against the headboard while the other clutched the base of my skull, devouring me anew.

“Mm,” I pulled away. “Fuck-” I dragged my nails over his spine. “Keep going.” We mirrored one another, eyes hooded and latched on to the other as he slowed. He chuckled, eyes shining.

“Just like this?” He asked. “Or…?”

“What does ‘keep going’ mean to you?” I rolled my eyes. He laughed, then, and resumed his prior pace. I curled in on him, my lips and teeth finding his shoulder.

“Hey,” He murmured, pulling back. “That’s my job.”

“What, biting?” I asked.

“Mm.” He regarded me. “Don’t take that from me.”

“No?” I nipped once more at his shoulder. He yelped, pulling out and wrestling me into submission. I laughed, full-throated, as the two of us tumbled on the bed for a moment, all sexual tension evaporating into something easier. He ended up pinning me to the bed facedown, draped over me as he nudged my knees apart.

“I ought to punish you.” He murmured heatedly into my ear.

“Oh, no~” I giggled. “Punish me how?” The drink had me in fine form, it seemed. As I was busy preening, his hand found the meat of my ass, a hearty thwack causing me to yelp in blushing pleasure.

“Like that.” His hand slid up my back to press me down with steady pressure between my shoulder blades. “Now, going to behave?”

I giggled again, waggling my ass. “I don’t think I will.” I glanced over my shoulder, grinning cheekily. His hand came down again, this time on the other cheek.

“Well,” He wrapped an arm around my waist, the other bracketing my collarbone. “I’ll have to train you then, won’t I?” He pulled me up so my back was pressed against his chest.

“Kinky.” My giggle fractured, giving way to a squeal and a moan as he sank his teeth into my shoulder, then once more on the curve of my neck.

“You don’t know the half of it, beautiful.” He nudged my knees apart, keeping me steady as he found his way inside of me once more. All pretense of teasing left my mind as he dragged me down on his cock again and again.

I panted out his name, reaching back to grasp at his mohawk. My thighs trembled as his hand trailed from my waist to reach for my clit, gently stroking the sensitive bundle of nerves until I was unable to keep upright. We collapsed forward, his bulk blanketing me as he continued to move. I groaned needily, rocking back into each thrust.

"Christ," he ground out, his teeth finding my skin once more, followed by his tongue. "Not gonna last much longer."

I whined in response, falling from my hands to my elbows. His arms tightened around me almost painfully. He panted in time with each thrust.

The fingers on my clit got clumsy, then stilled as he reached up to clutch at my belly.

"Oh, fuck." He groaned, shuddering as he came, his stomach flexing against my back. I whimpered in return as he ground against me.

It was almost embarrassing, the way we fucked, cuddled, and fucked again - until the sun peeked out from behind my curtains and let us both know that hours had passed.

I sighed into his neck, pressing a soft kiss onto his skin where I lay sprawled over his arm.

“Good date?” He murmured, planting his own kiss on the crown of my head.

“Best I’ve had in ages.” I agreed, rolling to curl against him.

“Good.” He pulled me closer. He was out in moments, snoring softly. And I followed not long after.