Jeez, sorry this was so late guys. I kind of lost inspiration for a while there, but I got it back so...that's all that matters.
Love in the Key of G
Act Two : Jazz Club
February 28 -Afternoon-
Sora actually called me the next day, much to my surprise. I'd thought he at least wait three days or so, considering I see him practically all the time, both on the way to work and the trip back home again. I'll usually stop and listen to him play for a few minutes because a majority of the time, he's in the middle of a song, and I don't want to interrupt.
Anyway, we had lunch. Veggie pizza, mine plain, and slathered in hot sauce for Sora.
Today, I bought him clam chowder from uptown and for the first time, I begin to realize that our main relationship seems to be heavily proceeded by food. But Sora is always hungry when we meet up and I guess feeding him just became sort of a habit.
My feet throb a little in my shoes as I settle myself down on my usual bench, not so usual, now that I had a full time job, and I try hard not to think about the assignment I have for tonight. Some research thing that wouldn't take too long to figure out. Sora is playing a little to my left, as usual, something simple and relaxing, and I silently thank him for being so inadvertently thoughtful.
The song ends soon after I sit down and Sora leaves his saxophone hanging from his neck strap as he curls up on the bench. The shiny black brass propped between his crossed legs as he accepted the offered Styrofoam cup from my hand. He looks small wrapped up in his Carhartt coat and his eyes nearly disappear under his bangs as he hunched over the cup, making wildly appreciative sounds at the thick tendrils of steam that pour out when he cracks open the top.
"Cold out today." I point out needlessly, curling my hands inside my coat pockets. There's another container balanced on the bench between us, but my fingers are much too content to stay where they are to bother picking it up.
"Mmhmm." The noise Sora makes is hardly a response, but more like the savage sounds of a man starving to death and finding the last scrap of his food for the first time.
I chuckle quietly, "That good, huh?"
Sora's eyes flicker up briefly from the rim of his cup, the edges of his eyelids creasing with a smile. "I'm a fat kid at heart." He says, muffled by the container. I notice he's holding his spoon with two fingers, the others hidden inside the edge of his sleeve, and I pay far too much attention to the way his tongue glides over his lips when he finishes a spoonful of chowder. The only way I could think of to casually redirect my attention was to glance back over my shoulder at the busy street, pretending as if some noise distracted me.
"Ah, I meant to say, 'Good Afternoon, Riku.'" Sora says, chewing the edge of his spoon. He looks mildly annoyed, at himself, I suppose. Then he shifts his eyes to the side, and the expression disappears abnormally fast as his eyes size me up in a kind of slow, drifting way that isn't too subtle.
I wonder if he knows how his eyes look when he does that, if he knows that they betray some of his mystery in that too-wide, obvious way. "Is it really that important?" I also wonder if he can see my poor, mishandled and blatant infatuation with those eyes.
He shrugs. "It's good manners."
I'm not really sure what I should say to that, so just sink a little in my seat, my heels scraping on the sidewalk. I conclude that Sora is kind of oddly charming, but for the life of me, I can't figure out why.
"Good manners." I scoff, attempting to appear casual even while the metal bench is freezing my ass through my jeans. "Your parents beat that into your head as a child?"
Predictably, Sora makes that face again, a mixture of offense and annoyance with a tinge of amusement that kept me from taking him completely serious. "No. It's common courtesy, you jerk. Parents have nothing to do with it."
"What a mature comment." I say dryly.
"Some people would call that rude, you know." Sora leans sideways, his arm pressing against mine through his coat. It's hard to tell if the action was intentional or not, but I find myself not caring either way.
"Who? Your parents?"
"I knew you would say that." Sora rolled his eyes, scraping the edges of his cup with his spoon. "Your predictability is astounding."
"We're all just a reflection of our parents." I add, knowing that it was perfectly true in my case. Of course, I had always been very close with my mother. We were practically the same person.
"Not me." Sora proclaims almost immediately, barely giving himself the time to swallow properly. It brings up the question of his own relationship with his family, and that incident he told me about, where he ran away from home for a band.
I shake my head, and for a second I can't believe how serious his voice is. Especially considering the topic. "You're cute, Sora. You're really cute."
Even through the thick layers and collar of his coat and scarf piled up around his neck, I could see him flush just a little. Just enough to boost my confidence.
"Don't say stuff like that." Sora mutters, digging his chin into his scarf. He curls his cup closer, scooping almost dejectedly at the still hot chunks of potatoes and clam.
I laugh briefly at his expense, balancing the heel of my right shoe atop the toe of my left one. It would probably be a good idea to change the subject right about now. "So why did you run away?"
Sora makes a strangled noise to my left, dropping his plastic spoon in his cup to bring a curled fist up to his mouth. I give his back a few sharp whacks, though I doubt that smacking rarely ever helped anyone choking to death. The piece of whatever seems to dislodge from his throat and Sora coughs harshly into his fist for a few long seconds.
"Ow." He hisses miserably.
"You hit pretty damn hard." Sora rumbles, cringing as I settle a hand on his shoulder.
I don't even attempt looking apologetic. "Sorry." I chuckle mostly to myself. "I don't know the Heimlich."
"So?" I say, trying to return to the previous conversation, before Sora started to die beside me. "So, why did you run away? Family issues?"
Sora clears his throat, eyes narrowed and understandably irritated. I can't say I blame him too much, but I'm more concerned with his answer than his feelings.
"There is no 'why'." He says finally, his tight expression relaxing considerably.
"I didn't have a reason. It was just a feeling. Instinct. Like birds migrating or something."
I watch him for a long moment, unsure if he was being totally serious or not. If it was a joke, I would've laughed right away because comparing yourself to a bird was pretty damn ridiculous, but he was being completely and utterly truthful. Birds migrating, huh?
"Weren't you scared?"
"Not really." Sora shrugs, frowning as if replicating the past in his head. "It wasn't the first time I was that far away from home. I wasn't afraid at all." He shifts a little, slouching enough to bear some of his weight on my arm. "Hop a bus and ride it to end of the line. Take a train out of state, clear across the country." He smiles and I can feel his warmth from sitting so close. "Hitch-hiking is a whole lot easier than it sounds."
I hum quietly, my shoulder dropping to fit more comfortably underneath him. I feel vaguely envious of his mentality, so carefree and detached. I had never once done any of those things. I happened to enjoy the safety of my comfort zone before, but now, I couldn't help but wonder if all this time I was missing out on the really great things about life.
A tiny shift of movement and a brief tickle of extremely soft-feeling hair and I'm mildly surprised to discover that he's comfortable enough to rest his head on the top of my shoulder and it's an oddly satisfying sensation.
"Mmm," Sora breathes close to my ear and I shiver, a reaction that could've just as easily been from the winter chill. "I could go to sleep right here, if it wasn't so damn cold."
"My apartment is close by if you wanna go warm up there." Note that I'm totally not thinking about getting him into bed at this very moment. Honestly. I really wasn't.
Sora perks up a little at that, his saxophone, Cecilia, bumping against his knee as he sat up straighter. I miss the feeling of his weight almost instantly. "Do you live by yourself?"
"Uh, no. I have a roommate, actually."
"Hm," Sora looks thoughtful for a second, uncrossing his legs so his feet drop heavily on the sidewalk. "Think they're home right now?"
Oh, ho ho. Sora.
For the record, this is the point where I start thinking about sex. Or at the very least, some extensive making out. Either way, it involves getting that damn concealing coat of his off.
"Why?" I can't help the smirk that my face defaults to. "You trying to pull the moves on me, Sora?"
Sora laughs, though not without a noticeable blush spreading across his nose and cheeks. How cute. "I don't think I like your tone."
"You don't have to like it." I say easily, stretching my arms over the back of the bench.
"Besides, I think you'd be the one pulling the moves." Sora declares with a little smile, turning in his seat to toss his cup in the garbage can to the left of the bench. "I'm dreadfully afraid of making the first move."
"I find that hard to believe."
He smirks slowly. "I'm sorry if I give off the impression of a sexual deviant, 'cause I'm really not."
"Shame." I slouch, letting my arms fall to my sides so I can stuff my hands back in my pockets. "I had a bit of a fantasy of sexing up the saxophone player."
Sora makes a face, pulling his neck strap off over his head, the band getting caught on his hat and dropping it into his lap. He scrambled a hand through his hair, clutching his coveted saxophone in his other hand. I decide that he looked much better that way. Dark hair free and wily and, for the most part, out of his eyes. "Somehow, I don't think Cecilia would very interested in a threesome."
What an absurd comment."I said fantasy, not fetish."
Sora starts disassembling the instrument, always with the same precise speed. "My mistake." He says, teasingly. After checking over everything at least twice, I'm expecting him to ask if we're ready to go, but instead he points at the second cup on the bench, cooling in the space between us. "You gonna eat that?"
"Ah, nah. You can have it." I say, figuring that I'm not really that hungry anyway.
"I don't get a lot of chances to eat." He explains, cracking open the top with a shrug. Makes sense. Come to think of it, I don't think I've ever seen him move from his street, because he's always in the same place when I pass him in morning and when I come home.
"Sure." I reply, offering to hold Cecilia while we walk.
"You weren't kidding about 'nearby', huh?" Sora says once I slow to a stop in front of my building, literally two blocks away from where we started. I think about that moment under the streetlight, that first kiss that I still can't believe happened, because usually I'm not nearly anywhere close to that impulsive. I remember the feeling of being pressed against him, of the taste of his lips, and how I fought the urge to tackle him every morning I saw him. Out there, playing his beautiful music with his 'mad sax skills' that he picked up from Juilliard.
I can feel him looking at me with his worldly eyes and the small smile he gives me is an expected one, but no less appreciated.
"Told you." I say, briefly wondering if he thought about me as often as I did him as I push open the door to the foyer. It's a useless thought, only because I'd never have the courage to ask him. For fear of the answer.
"Well, this is me." I say, gently setting the saxophone case on the floor by the hall closet as Sora invites himself in, finger-combing his hair free of the light snow that began to fall outside. He starts unwinding his scarf as he comes into the seating area, clear blue eyes taking in the room around him.
It's not a terribly big space, neither is it cramped-ass tiny either. It has a kitchen, two bedrooms and a shared bathroom. Medium sized living room. And a nook that you could technically call a dining area, but I wouldn't recommend it. Anyway, it's home. And rent-controlled.
"Cozy." Sora comments, and I watch a little too carefully as he strips off his scarf and heavy coat, discarding both in the armchair stationed beside the couch. He starts tugging off his gloves as he seats himself on the couch and I can't help but think he seems just a little bit too comfortable for a person visiting someone's else home for the first time.
I decide to chalk it up as being one of his many quirks, removing my own coat and hanging it up in the closet by the door. I feel much more confident in my own space, asking him if he wanted a drink as I duck into the kitchen, checking the refrigerator to make sure I have any drinks to give.
"Water's fine." Sora replies from the living room and I shrug, getting him a glass and filling it under the tap. "Thanks." He says, taking a shallow drink and placing it on the coffee table. He's wearing a silk screened t-shirt of the Doors over his thermal and I almost laugh aloud at that, but then Sora glances at me and his eyes are just too damn blue and I really can't concentrate on anything else.
"You're a pretty nice guy, huh?" Sora says, fingernails idly picking at each other as I settle onto the cushion beside him. The couch is kind of one of those over-stuffed, too-soft couches, the ones where you sit down and everything just kind of migrates into one central point. And this is what Sora does when I fully drop my weight down, he drifts toward me a fraction as the cushions sink. If he notices this at all, he doesn't show it, choosing to drift instead readjusting himself.
I laugh. "If you say so."
"No, you are." Sora says, stretching his legs out under the table. "I could be a serial killer, you know."
"More like serial eater."
The face he makes this time is more like mock-offended. "Hey, I'm a growing boy. Growing boys gots to eat." His playful expression melts away and he looks a little more serious and I can't decide if that's a bad thing or not. The topic overall wasn't an incriminating one. He only said I was nice, which technically I suppose is true. "No, you're just—you're very trusting."
I blink and I just know my face has to look pretty surprised. Still, wasn't that a good thing? But the way he was saying it made it sound quite the opposite. "And...is there some reason that I shouldn't trust you?"
"There could be." Sora says, finally, cryptically. His eyes flicker up to mine and for a long second of tense silence I feel like he's going to say that he really is a fucking serial killer.
The sound of a quick piano scale interrupts the moment and Sora breaks the stiff stare-down to dig into his front pocket, retrieving the phone with the Superman logo wallpaper, flipping it open. Because of how close we are, I can briefly see the word 'LEET' in the text message before he closes it and brings up his contact list. Muttering what sounds like Kairi under his breath.
"Sorry. That's her emergency code." He looks somewhat embarrassed for a second, then apologetic as he had to explain why he was stalling the conversation for a text message. "It's stupid, but if I don't call her back, I'll drive myself crazy wondering."
I sit back on the couch so there's a little more room between us. "It's okay. I'll wait."
"I'm really sorry. One minute." He promises, holding up a finger to better demonstrate 'one minute'.
Sora stands and rounds the side of the couch to stand closer to the kitchen. The most I hear of the conversation is the initial hello and something along the lines of "What's wrong?"
I can't get Sora's last words out of my head. There could be. What the hell? I tell myself it's probably nothing because usually one person's perception of 'shit you should really know about me before we go any farther' is completely different from another's. Like, for instance, I've been told before that I snore, and in the situation that we'd ever sleep together, I'd be sure to warn him of that in advance.
The paranoid side of me really hopes whatever he was going to say ends up being something stupid and asinine like a little light snoring.
"Sorry," Sora apologizes again for the third time as he gets off the phone, tucking the cell back in his pants pocket. "The ditz lost her keys. Luckily, I have the spare."
"Luckily." I repeat.
Sora's just standing there in his sort of skinny gray jeans and his t-shirt that seemed to hug to his chest regardless of any thermal he has on underneath. I wish he didn't have to look so good, then I wouldn't have to look so annoyed that he was leaving prematurely. Again.
"I kinda disappointed you again, didn't I?" He says with a frown that doesn't really look right on him.
"No. Fuck, Sora, don't worry about it." I stand, fully prepared to usher him out the door, because I had the distinct feeling that he would keep standing there, regardless of any friend in need of his assistance. "Go. Go, help your...Kairi."
Sora grimaces tightly. "Fucking girls." He sighs, stepping forward so I could pass off his coat and scarf to him. "I really wanted to spend more time with you today."
"It's cool. Really." I assure him. Sora smiles and I feel his fingers on the front of my shirt before they curl and twist in the fabric and I allow myself to be pulled forward a fraction of an inch. His bottom lip bumps briefly against mine before our mouths are sealed tightly together and I groan somewhere in the back of my head because fuck it's been like a week or so since I first kissed him and goddamn I couldn't for the life of me figure out why we weren't doing this every day.
Sora tilted his head a little, just enough that everything just kinda pushed closer together and deeper and his tongue was slick on the roof of my mouth and then he pulled away and I think he might've actually bitten me but I could hardly care enough to tell.
"You really are a nice guy." Sora says around a harsh breath, smoothing the front of my shirt down with his whole hand. "We'll have sex next time. I promise." He pledges, obviously joking. I imagine the body underneath the silkscreen Doors t-shirt and the frayed, faded jeans and honestly wonder if my imagination even does the real thing any justice.
"Don't promise a thing like that." I laugh, only like 40 percent kidding and I really should be ashamed of those statistics.
"I'm serious." He declared, shaking out his coat so he could slip his arms properly in the thick sleeves. "I feel like I own you that much. You know, after all the food you keep buying me."
"Really?" I smirk, handing him his scarf and gloves, one at a time, and the heart beating in my throat hasn't calmed down in the least. "Sex for food, Sora? That seems pretty sexual deviant to me."
Sora gives a soft chuckle, rolling his eyes. I wanted to kiss him again, longer and harder and involving more hands, but like the perfect little cockblocker that it was, Sora's phone chimed again and I had to settle for something much more simple and light, a brief, warm press of lips before he called Kairi again. Speaking to me over his shoulder in some kind of stage whisper a quick goodbye as he pulled the door open.
February 28 -Evening-
I'm still thinking about that damn kiss when my roommate gets home. I'm cooking dinner for myself, always with a little extra because Tidus will just steal some anyway, and the fact that the kiss won't get out of my head almost causes some major burns to my stir fry.
"Do I have any mail?" Tidus asks me, idly shuffling through the kitchen, gathering plates and the silverware necessary for dinner. He yawns and blinks at me for a long second before I fully register what he said and point out the small cluster of envelopes on the end table in the living room. "Bills." He says with a bit of a grimace and I shrug.
We eat standing up in the kitchen, or at least Tidus does, I sit on the counter. It's a weird relationship we have, me and my roommate. We don't really talk to each other, and it's not for lack of trying. God knows Tidus tries, but most times, there's rarely much to say past rent and bills and who's turn it is to do the dishes. I stay out of his way, and for the most part, he stays out of mine.
So while sitting on the counter and lightly picking at my dinner, I can't say I'm not in the least bit surprised when the next thing that comes out of Tidus' mouth isn't a comment about my cooking.
"What's in that box?"
"Huh?" I blink, looking up from my plate, red pepper hanging from the end of my fork. "What box?"
Tidus cocks his head to side, gesturing with a nod. "The one by the door." He chewed absently. "I almost broke my neck hanging up my coat."
Box? By the door?
"Shit. Cecilia." I hiss, setting down my plate on the counter as I wonder if I should at least call Sora to tell him I'm holding onto it for him.
"It's a saxophone." I explain, digging around for my cell, realizing that I left it in the living room. I jump off the counter and Tidus follows me, his expression one of mild interest.
"Cecilia." I correct, not even sure why I even put forward the effort. I find my phone somewhere in the folds of the cushions of the couch. There's one missed call. Oops.
Sora answers after two rings. "You have it, right? I didn't lose it somewhere, did I?" His voice sounds a little panicked and I feel bad for not having my phone on me the first time he called.
"No, no, I have her. She's safe." I reassure him, smiling unconsciously. Tidus stands in the door to the kitchen kind of awkwardly and I know he's waiting for me to tell him what the hell is going on, but I ignore that for the time being.
Sora sighed heavily and I vaguely hear him mutter 'Thank God.'
"You alright?" I ask him, leaning against the back of the couch, my arm folded under my chin.
"Hell no. That's a 70 year old saxophone. It's worth more than my life." He says, the edginess of panic in his voice not totally gone yet.
I blink, glancing at the inconspicuous black case in the corner. I can't believe that thing is so old. "Oh right. It was your grandfather's, wasn't it?" I inquire, remembering him telling me something like that on our first date.
"Yeah. It's all I have left of him." Sora sighs again and he sounds just a little weary.
"I'll take good care of her. Promise." I say.
"Don't let her get lonely."
"Of course not. I'll stay up all night if I have to."
Sora laughs and I'm a little relieved. "Thanks." He says finally and I nod for absolutely no reason because I'm definitely on the phone. "Now I really owe you." His voice lowers slightly at that and I remember his promise, unconsciously biting my lip.
"Is that right?" I murmur and the low voice thing must catching because I practically purr this into the phone.
Sora chuckles, a soft rumble over the speakers, humming in affirmation. "Lemme take you out this time." He says, his voice sexy in that kind of tired/suggestive way.
How can I refuse? "Okay."
"I got a job. Or gig, whatever the kids are calling it these days." He says. "Anyway, it's kind of like background music, you know, a house band or something. At a jazz club downtown."
"Wow," I say, sinking down in the couch cushion. "That's great." Tidus must've lost interest at some point because he had disappeared back into the kitchen.
"So, you should come see me play Saturday. And then we can do whatever when I get off." The word 'whatever' seems so much more significant when he says it. How can I refuse?
March 5 -Evening-
I come in alone. The club is kind of hole-in-the-wall, but in a good way. It's not too crowded and it's way warmer than it looks, even with the chic exposed brick walls at every far end of the room. The tables are set up in a bit of a maze and it takes me a minute to navigate through them to find an empty seat. The stage is small and the house band is already set up and playing something smooth and relaxing. I try to spot Sora, squinting through the smoky dimness of the purple lighting as I made my way to my seat.
I hear the loud whisper over the music and for one bewildered second, I think it's Sora. Except the voice is too high to be him. Because it isn't him.
It takes me about a half a second to find the sparkly dangly earring girl from Katz's. Kairi. Of course she'd be here. She's only interrupted every date I've had with Sora so far. Her slinky, sequined dress sparkles even in the low light, so it doesn't really take much to see her. I take the empty seat to her left after she moves her little purse from the chair.
"Hey! Sora wanted me to sit with you." Kairi explains right away, reaching into the tiny bag to reapply her lip gloss. I notice she has an M stamped onto her hand and for a second I can't believe that a place like this even does that sort of thing. "This is exciting, isn't it? Sora's first real job!"
"Yeah, it is." I agree and I can see Sora now, given how close the table is to the speck of stage. He looks a little nervous but from what I can pick out, he's playing just as perfectly as always.
"How old are you, by the way?"
"I'm 23." I say with a bit of hesitance, quirking an eyebrow at her inquiry.
"Oh, that's not bad." Kairi declares, smoothing the tube of pink across her lips effortlessly. "He made it sound like you were way older. I was getting worried for a while there."
"He's only 20, that's not much younger than me."
Kairi pauses, and her eyes flick to mine, a lighter blue than Sora's, I think, but it's hard to tell in this lighting. An indecipherable expression crosses her face for a moment before she nods, smiling thinly, screwing the cap on her lip gloss. "He prefers older guys. So...good for you right?"
I try to figure out what that face meant but then the song ended and I was too distracted by clapping along with everyone else to think about it too much.
"So you went to Juilliard with Sora?"
Kairi lights up at the mention of Juilliard and the traces of that look are long gone now. "Yeah! Well, we were each in different groups or whatever, but yeah, that's where we met." Her smile is a little more reminiscent now. "He was really good. Like top-of-the-class good." She then frowned sharply, fiddling with the straps of her purse. "It's just too bad he had to drop out, you know?"
I raise my eyebrows at that. "He dropped out?" I say thoughtfully and Kairi nods, slowly. "Sora never mentioned that."
"Why did he drop out?" I ask instantly.
"Oh, um, I don't know." She bites her lip, as if thinking. "You know, I think it had to do with his family at the time."
"When he ran away?" I say, putting it together a little piece at a time. That made sense. He dropped out Juilliard because he wanted to leave. I wonder why he didn't tell me that.
"Oh! He told you about that?" Kairi huffs, blowing out a breath that ruffled her bangs. "Seriously, Sora makes no sense."
I'm not sure what to say to that, so I look back at the stage as they start another set. Sora waved subtly and Kairi and I wave back, Kairi with way more girlish enthusiasm.
"So," Kairi turns toward me in her seat. "You gonna order me a drink or what?" When all I look is confused she raises her hand with the black stamped M, wiggling her fingers pointedly. "Come on, if I gotta sit here with my best friend's date, I might as well get something out of it."
"Oh." I blink, figuring she's about the same age as Sora. One year wouldn't hurt. "What do you want?"
"Rum. No wait—Champagne...or, wine?" She looks at me helplessly and I snort, flagging down a server and ordering two Rum and Cokes.
"That was pathetic." I say, teasing her if only because I could.
Kairi wrinkles her nose and I almost expect her to stick her tongue out at me like an adolescent. "You're not that great, you know." She says with all the ferocity of a little perky redheaded gerbil. Once our drinks arrive, she seems to forget all about my remark though.
"I bet you were the first one to kiss Sora, huh?" Kairi assumes, taking a tentative sip from her glass. "Wow, this is good."
"Yeah. I was." I say, nursing my own glass. "He's afraid of making the first move."
"Mm-hmm." Kairi hums, becoming gradually more confident with her drink, taking slightly larger sips.
"Might want to slow down there." I point out and this time, she actually does stick her tongue out at me. I laugh and take my time as I survey the stage and find Sora there. He's completely within his element and it's an oddly attractive look for him.
Things start getting a little fuzzy after a while, once I work up a good buzz on drink three. Kairi's giggling and clutching my wrist to my right and I do my best to ignore her. Somehow, I knew I shouldn't have bought her more than one drink. She obviously didn't need the alcohol.
I wonder how late it is as the redhead stumbles in an impossibly graceful way to her feet, mumbling something about a bathroom. Even though I couldn't understand a damn thing she said, I think it's safe to assume she was going to use it.
They sound the last call and I decide against another drink, finding that I'd like very much to make it home tonight. Things start to slow down after 1 AM as people began to pack up their stuff and usher themselves and their dates out the door and the band begins to pack up. I find myself looking around for Kairi with a minor amount of concern. I can't remember how long ago she went to the bathroom, but it felt like hours.
"Riku." My heart leaps in my throat at Sora's voice and through the haze I can make out his outline even in the dim building. I turn and step forward only once before I have an armful of Sora, his body too-warm with excitement, nuzzling against my chest, arms around my waist, soft hair tickling just under my jaw. I find I really enjoy the hug and encourage it with a little nuzzling of my own, burying my nose in his hair and bringing my arms up so they curl tightly around his back.
This moment really should make me question my judgment due my alcohol intake and I wonder about Sora and why he seems to smell a bit like alcohol himself. "Riku," Sora repeats, his voice heavy in my ear, heavy with heat and suggestion, a little pleading on top. "Mm," He hums, his lips brushing the underside of my jaw, the side of my neck, parting to drawl out a few drunken words. "Take me to bed or lose me forever."
The familiarity of the line makes me smile and I keep my arms around him, hugging his lithe body tight.
"Did you just quote Top Gun to me?" I say incredulously, muttering into his hair, but it soon doesn't matter anymore as his head lifts up, and his mouth closes firmly over mine and I can taste the flavor of beer and the warmth of something much stronger on his tongue. And the way his arms curl around my neck and the hard press of his hips make me quickly forget that Tom Cruise ever existed.
God, I love that line. This is where this chapter ends for now. Will there be smut in the next chapter? Maybe, possibly. Yes. Will there be drama? Hopefully.
I didn't proofread this at all so please excuse any mistakes. I'll fix them when I have time to read this again. Probably tomorrow.