A couple of hours, and several drinks, later, I realized that I had missed the party, but I didn't really care. I was quite happy where I was, and things seemed to be moving along nicely with him. He was extremely attentive, and focused all of his attention on me. It was flattering and a little surprising. His hands lingered a little longer when he touched me, and we leaned towards each other more. If I didn't know better, I would have thought it was obvious where the evening was headed.
He was pursing his lips again, and I couldn't tear my eyes away. All I could think about was touching them, they looked so warm and soft. Maybe slipping something inside, like a finger, or a tongue, or a hard nipple.
Finally, I couldn't stand it anymore, and I just blurted it out.
"That," I said, quite pointedly, an accusation.
"What?" he said, somewhat innocently. Apparently, he couldn't read my mind, and didn't know what I was talking about.
"You keep doing that," I said, and pointed to his mouth.
"What?" he said again, amused. "What am I doing?"
"That thing with your mouth," I whispered, my eyes on his lips.
"What thing?" he whispered back, his voice a little lower.
"Your mouth," I said, rubbing a finger across my bottom lip thoughtfully. "Your lips, open like that. It makes me want to ... put something in there." I don't know why I said it. I wasn't really thinking, it just came out.
He looked at me for a long time, and I thought, this is it. This is when he climbs off the barstool, and tells me how nice it's been, but he has to be heading home.
"So, do it," he said, lowly.
I was in stunned silence for a moment, just a beat or two, but long enough for those three words to roll around in my head repeatedly. I didn't believe what I had heard.
"What?" I asked. I had to know if he really said it, or if I had just lapsed into a fantasy suddenly.
"Do it," he repeated. "Go ahead, and do it."
His eyes were blazing suddenly, his pupils so wide and dark that I could only see a faint circle of blue-green remaining. I got caught up in the moment, forgetting who I was with.
I reached up, slowly, not so he could fend me off, but because my brain was foggy, and I couldn't really communicate with my limbs effectively, and I stroked his bottom lip with my finger. Just once. Very softly.
He quickly dipped his head down and grabbed my finger between his teeth, biting me gently.
I started laughing, so surprised by his action, and he joined me, until he rubbed the tip of his tongue across my finger, still caught between in his teeth. It was like electricity coursing through my body, and I immediately quieted, got really serious.
"Ohhhhhhh, fuck," I said softly. I didn't even realize I had said it until he replied.
"What?" he said, slowly releasing my finger.
"Y-your..." I stuttered. I wanted to say "tongue," but I suddenly realized the inappropriateness of a comment like that, so I hesitated.
"My what?" he asked, his voice soft and sweet, a tiny smile on his face.
"Aren't you..." I started. "I mean, are you..." I couldn't finish the sentence. I just couldn't ask him.
"Am I what?" He seemed amused by my question.
I paused for several seconds, trying to decide what to do, what to say. Finally, I just said it. I had to know.
"Gay?" I said, a little too loudly. "Are you gay or aren't you?"
Uh-oh. Here we go. Wonder what's going to happen now? Any ideas?
All things "Twilight" belong to Stephanie Meyer. The remainder of the perversion is all mine. :)