The Hedgehog and the Fox - We Found Love in A Hopeless Place

[x-roulette.livejournal.com]

And then, like that, everything changes between Jennie and her partner.

sliiiiiightly NSFW



They had celebrated Jennie's return by doing what they normally did. There was a club, there was alcohol, they were alive, and it was grand.

But Jennie and Donal couldn't stop exchanging glances at one another. Something had changed between them. It was impossible to say when and where exactly, but there was a weight in-between them now. Something was definitely going unsaid.

Pash had decided that, enough was enough, and poured a bunch of alcohol into each of them.

Nigel thought it unwise, but was sick of all of their nervous circling, so he okayed it.

The club was loud, and the energy was intense. Jennie and Donal held back, by each other. It was hard to talk, but they were enjoying each other's company. Yelling in fits and starts over the music.

Then they were staring into each other's eyes for a beat to long.

"Dancing!" Jennie said suddenly, yelling over the music.

"What?" Donal yelled back.

"Dancing! I want to dance! I have a body that moves again and I'm going to use it! I'm going dancing," Jennie turned and downed the rest of her drink. "Let's go dancing, Donal!"

And they did. Jennie had never danced for Donal, never showed him any of the formal dancing she used to do before she became a member of Clarent House. But she could move out on the dance floor, and Donal was enjoying every second of this.

And then-- dizzy from the lights and the music and the drink, she leaned forward. All of her doubt, all of her reasoning, all of her sensibility had been blurred between the sweat and the alcohol, and there was only one certainty. He was her Donal, and she was going to kiss him.

So she did.

And he did not pull back or pull away. On the contrary, he was as drunk as she was and he returned her kiss, tenfold. They stood in the crowd, surrounded by swaying, sweaty bodies and time seemed to stop for them. There was suddenly lips, teeth and tongues, and hands that held onto shoulders or moved up into hair. The press of their bodies sending out an electric shock.

There was no voice that yelled that she was ruining everything. There was no part of her mind that ordered she stop, right now. Or if there was, they were quite small and easily ignored. Jennie had a body and Donal had a body, and she wanted him to feel hers and for her to feel his.

And he seemed to feel the same.

Slowly, she pulled away from him, and he was smiling at her, eyes half-lidded. He reached down to kiss her again, and she teasingly pulled away. They were getting bumped by the other dancers, and Jennie wanted Donal to herself. She felt as if she were gliding, head swimming somewhere in the clouds, and she was pulling at his shirt, leading him away. To where, she didn't know. They found a wall in a darker part of the club and he crashed into her and they were kissing again, she couldn't seem to stop.

The bass in the club made her teeth and bones rattle, and it seemed to match the pounding of her heart. She knew it matched the beat of Donal's heart. She could feel it, her hand was pressed to his chest. Her other hand went down his back, found the part where shirt ended and back started before it became jeans. It was warm and sweaty, and her touch made him press harder into her.

She knew what he wanted. It was she wanted. She wanted there to not be a wall. She wanted there to not be a club anymore, smelling of sweat and stale beer, and she wanted there to not be two layers of clothing between them.

She broke away from his mouth and reached up, yelling into his ear. He nodded and bit her neck, releasing her very reluctantly.

They turned, and he reached down and took her hand in his. He towed her to the coat check, and then there was a purse in her hand and then they were outside in the humid night air. Other groups of people were stumbling around them, shouting and singing, but they moved among them, barely noticing. Jennie was still floating, gliding along, his hand tethering her to the earth. The night was a blur of color and noise, pounding music coming out of clubs on the street, queues of girls in glitter and men in slicked hair and slicker shirts jabbering outside. They dodged around a hen party, all of the women in white dresses and bad blonde Marilyn wigs, and stepped out of the way of a CCTV van, the man and the woman in the front seat looking tired and unsmiling.

The streets became unfamiliar and Jennie realized they weren't going to her place, and then there was Donal's building, and here were Donal's stairs, and here she was kissing him outside Donal's door, as he tried to use his keys. She had been good for long enough, her hands went up under his shirt, felt his sides, and ran her nails down them. He groaned against her throat.

The door was opened somehow, and they stumbled in, Jennie almost fell, laughing, but Donal caught her. She never doubted for a second that he wouldn't. He always caught her. Always. Then the door shut and he was hers. All hers.

She moved backwards, and found a mattress, and fell against it, head still swimming. He fell against her, mouth going for hers. They were kissing everywhere, mouths, necks, shoulders, chest, breasts, and clothing was kicked away until there was nothing between them but skin on skin. There was a pause and a fumble (for he was not quite so drunk as to forget) while Jennie looked above and noticed a strand of colored Christmas lights tacked to the ceiling, and she laughed because it was beautiful, and so was he.

Then he was there, and she held him close, wrapping her legs around him, and he had a body and she had a body and they were together.

And the rest of the world stopped outside for them and let them carry on, safe, his hand holding onto hers. And he did not let her go, not even later when sleep came for them, listening to the swish of passing cars and the soft sounds of night fading into day.