The Road to the Cup ~ Wattys 2015

That Felt Good

"So, Geno's driving us home? How'd you get him to do that?" I asked.

"I asked nicely and told him that friends don't let friends drive home drunk," Sidney grinned, lacing his fingers with mine.

"And he bought that?"

"In your case he did. He doesn't care about me."

"He does too," I replied.

"Well, he might have until I told him we might help him break in his new car," Sidney smirked.

"So that's why he told me we couldn't have sex in his car!" I exclaimed.

"I was kidding when I told him that. He knew that, right?"

"Well, apparently he didn't. Or he thinks that's something we'd do," I turned red at the idea as we got to Geno's car.

"What you say to her? She's red," Geno said accusingly to Sid.

"I told her about how we're going to help you break in the car. You can join us if you want," Sidney joked.

"Or I can strap you to roof and have Erin to myself," Geno muttered, "See, I can make joke, too."

"Okay, buddy," Sid patted him on the shoulder. Geno shook his head and muttered something in Russian.

We arrived at the club a few minutes later and the closer we stepped to the door, the more my heart pounded. What would tonight bring?

We were a very interesting group to see at the club. Most of the people there were dressed casually or like they were going out; we looked like we had just come from a business meeting. We were certainly conspicuous, but no one was sober enough to care.

I took off for the center of the gyrating mass of bodies, leaving everyone else to follow my lead. The guys did just that, and soon we had formed a circle. We should have taken turns jumping in to show off our dance moves, but none of us would go into the circle. We all just awkwardly clapped and moved a little to the music. "We are all too sober for this," Ian declared.

"The bar is that way," I pointed.

"We have a ritual to carry out," Sidney whispered in my ear.

"That we do," I followed him to the bar where he ordered four shots.

"Ready?" He asked once we got them.

"Almost," I took his left arm and rolled up the sleeve of his jacket and shirt.

Sidney leaned closer to me and whispered in my ear, "You could just take them off."

"Not just yet, Captain," I whispered back, then handed him the salt shaker. He poured salt on his wrist and then I did mine. We held the other's wrist and counted off. On three, I ran my tongue over his skin and felt him do the same to me. I don't know why he bothered pouring salt on his wrist when his skin was still salty with sweat from the game. It made me wonder if his lips would taste the same way. The alcohol burned on the way down, but I didn't mind. Sidney tenderly pushed a lime between my lips, and as I met his gaze, I knew he'd want to leave sooner rather than later. When he licked the salt off my skin again, I could feel the effects of his touch everywhere.

"Come on," I kissed him, "Let's dance."

We found ourselves a darker part of the club where we didn't know anyone and Sidney spun me around so that my back was to him. His hands slid to my hips where he held me against him. I rested my hands on top of his and swayed to the music, grinding against him. I always enjoyed the feeling of his skin on mine, but tonight his touch felt better than usual after the stress of the game. I tipped my head back and he leaned down to meet my lips with his. The kiss was soft and sweet, but I knew there was a rougher, more passionate side of it that I ached to draw out of him, but I knew better than to do it here. He brought his hands up, following the curving contours of my body until he held my hands up above my head. Sidney spun me around to face him and set his hands on my waist. I tucked my hands in his back pockets and looked up at him, biting my lip.