The blame could rest solely upon my grandfather, it remained firmly his fault that I could drown a neat glass of whiskey without gagging or full out vomiting over the floor. My father certainly held no controlling hand as he had been gone when I was in my early teens, so alcohol had not been in the picture, well, with permission, when he left- though he too had been a fervent alcoholic much as his father. I'd learned from him and gramps how to drink however, and therein began drinking far too much before I had been legal. In sketchy bars that were fester pools for the deprived, it was the sensation of simply letting go and although ironic I found it intoxicating. I had no easy time getting drunk, Natsu on the other hand- he could not contain his drink at all, I doubt he even understood what being intoxicated meant. Which would bring me to why he was currently slung over my shoulder as I walked away from the tavern we had been talking within, a small date that had been unassuming to anyone glancing our way, although he might have seen my difference in drink in comparison to his own and pushed himself to keep up with me. Admittedly, it might have been a slight unto him that I'd laughed at his fruit cocktail, because apparently that was really all he drank when in the mood for alcohol, he'd told me when almost knocked out that he didn't like hard liquor unless it was with something sweet, so that made his three cups of dark rum slightly odd in hindsight. Again, I probably shouldn't have laughed about his sweeter taste.
He was groaning everytime I stepped, being rocked so slightly over my shoulder. Although he would probably do well in his own apartment, I have no clue where that is; so mine becomes the only option. It is near midnight with the streets almost vacant and a chill in the air and I'm carrying my drunk boyfriend over my shoulder as I walk to my home. My hand is resting on his upper thighs to maintain balance, but that has no barr on my thoughts as I consider the rather cushioned ass right near my grip, temptation scurries straight south and I have to breathe through my nose to attempt and abate the prominent sensation. Fighting arousal has not occurred to me for awhile, nor at all when in regards to a man, but I've never been attracted to a man besides the one slung over my shoulder in a drunken coma, ass almost pressed against my hand, muscled, but in pressing the back of my hand just a slight higher I can tell its actually quite soft and despite my own attempt previously my south is stirred into attention, making it hard to walk up the stairs without spreading my legs awkwardly wide.
I'm blaming Natsu for this.
~0~
Sunlight is heavy on my eyelids, peering into them ever so slightly to cast the uncomfortable sensation of prodding me to get up, but the pillow on the other hand was beckoning with its soft warmth on my cheek, however firm in nature- and moving, which even I know is not possible for an inanimate object. Pillows are not supposed to be firm, or heated, nor moving. The rough touch of something trialing lightly down my opposite cheek as a flicker of a sensation, gentle and without pressure, there one moment then gone the next- stroking. That, moreso then the beckoning of sunlight probing my eyelids has my body tense and said eyelids to snap open; the smell around me is far from that of my home, though relaxing enough for my muscles to calm, and though uncertain the calming scent of gardalias is familiar and I can feel my grin stretch at my lips just as I know my face is burning red from the sudden heat in my core. Though there is a fluff residing light in my belly, in skirming ever so slightly I can tell I'm laying on top of someone, and in peering upwards I can see Laxus staring down at me with an expression foregone of any strain, the lines beneath his eyes seem to have faded while the subtle curves at the corners of his mouth- so common with his resting express of dour boredom, they too are so minimal I would not even know they existed have I not seen them before.
What has my bottom lip drawing into my mouth and all self-confidence near gone is the way he is staring: His eyes are lidded, soft, as his orange irises are shining brilliantly with the glow of the sun poking through his curtains. There's something further adding to the sparkle of his eyes, illuminating their tender gaze and adding to the way his mouth is hardly lifted at the corners but it is so eased it appears tranquil, his focus is on me, his eyes are firm upon my own, and I can feel it, warmth in my chest a swelling near my heart even as it skips several beats and my lungs cannot seem to bring in oxygen for a moment. His expression is saying words without a breath, it is conveying well enough to me as his fingers continue to brush along my cheek. Words catch in my throat, and though it has happened before the nerves rattling about in my head and body is still an odd feeling as the opinion of another person has never truly struck me as important, but the weight of his stare- the implicated feeling behind it has my body warmer then my fire and my mind so light that thinking does not seem plausible. It doesn't last long though, because of course it doesn't, a small smirk crests the blond's features returning his face back to the simple one of mockery and arrogance I'm so familiar with.
"You know you snore really loud when you're asleep?" It obviously does not matter to me if I do or not, I could shake the room with my raptuious snoring and I would not care, but the fact that he points it out with such a smug express and obvious teasing has the palm of my hand smacking into his chin. Before I sit up and realize, with apprehension that I am actually laying on top of my boyfriend- still in my clothes, luckily, and I had been sleeping on his bare chest, face snuggled into his pectorials- which while embarrassing to the point of not wanting to contemplate, is not why I am pouting, I had been cuddling into him- his chest, and he would mock me, or tease more accurately, about that fact for ages. That makes me glare at him as he sits up- his figure almost insultingly tall in its towering over me, I know I'm still pouting because really I am still annoyed, but my eyes go to his bare figure and very prominent muscles, and as he stands the flexing they do as he stretches upwards. A dry throat is not uncommon for me after I let out a roar, but my mouth suddenly going dry after simply gazing at a sexy man's back shoots an unexpected thrill down my spine and a light tingle upwards of my upper thigh, definitely warm.
I force my eyes away, its an entrancing sight, but to notice it I can at least acknowledge that he would be uncomfortable with the idea of sex as it stands- being as he only recently accepted his sexuality at all. Therein, I am basically a virgin, besides one time after a job in Oaktown where I know I had gone behind a random building with some tall, broad shaped man -close to my prickly standards- and sucked him off, I can still feel the ache in my jaw on occasion, it had been my first experience and I had not been prepared for the reality of it at all. The scrape of metal on my tongue and the roof of my mouth had not been easy to ignore, oddly exotic though for my first blowjob to be with a guy who had a pierced dick- and there my mind ground to a halt, answering a question I did not want answered. I could feel my body freezing up in comprehension for that fact, a strange revelation, and though I caught Laxus casting me a questioning look, I choose not to say anything as I stand up. He grunts at my lack of answer and moves towards his kitchen.
"I'll make breakfast." Comes the baritone grumble, but it has no hidden irritation behind it, making me smile because I have the inclination to believe that he really does like to cook; he had when we had dinner, and it had been great! I can't say I've eaten many refined meals, normally those kinds of foods are only served at snotty restaurants with too many people with their chins too high up to see their feet and words too poisoned by their own egos. Some of them would talk in whispers, leaning into each other and coiling their lips in slimy smirks that curdled their faces, others would pay some jewel to their partner of the night and take a bundle of a mystery package. Those places reak of overly sweet perfumes and deep scented colognes that picked at my nose, but it was the atmosphere that bugged me most, it was always stifling, because though I had been to that type of place a few times before no one had ever borne a smile, at least not one I had seen- they were surrounded by rich food and overpriced drinks while lounging in sparkling gowns and tight fit suits, but no one smiled, unless a smirk counted. With Laxus though, there had been no stifled feeling, it had been warming, easy, and I could see him smiling while cooking, he had looked so comfortable I had found myself grinning too.
I giggled slightly with the fond thought and the tingling sensation it brought along. "You like to cook?" I ask because I want to have it confirmed, but I think the answer is pretty obvious in his relaxed features as he grabs eggs. Which is probably why I flinch as he freezes, his expression turns suddenly stoic, macho, while his muscles are so plain it cannot be ignored. My mouth snaps shut, and already I can feel nerves coming forth to shake me, I don't know if I've said something wrong, I'm not good with words after all. Its quiet and he is only staring at the pan he has on the stove arms poised to crack a shell while it seems as if he isn't breathing but I can hear the rasps of his lungs from where I stand, and him holding his breath makes no sense. My legs have no want to move and I cannot bring myself to cast my eyes away, even if only to give him a modicum of privacy for whatever thoughts appear to be racing through his head.
The silence keeps stretching on, and in truth the still stance is making my legs ache, so I manage to shuffle my one, then the other, foot into the flooring, and with the unease I have the want to burn a hole through the wood. I'm not good with silences, and the length of time is making me twinge with discomfort, his shift in demenour is unsettling too, while Laxus is a man who rarely displays himself for others to see and commonly maintains a mask of stoicism and even -perhaps- discontent, recently, though mildly, he was shifting away from that. At least with me, I've seen him smile, even grin, and then; there was that night, it was night and everything surrounding was dark, the moon didn't show me much, but I could see the flicker of refraction that his tears made in its soft glow, I hadn't expected to see him cry. It had been beautiful though, to see him release emotion, though it had been without a grand declaration of feelings or sobbing, but the way he had cried by some method reflected him perfectly, it had been subtle and restrained, yet meaningful in its own way. I cannot see that man at the moment, the one whom I knew had been slowly coming to -if not open up to me, then maybe trust me minorly with the man he could be outside the shell.
Finally, he lets out a heavy sigh and the force of it shakes his arm holding the eggs at the cusp of the pan, but its untightens the knot in my stomach to see him untense. Something small crests over his lips, yet I cannot call the ghost over his expression a smile. "Yes I do." His tone is quiet, still his dull voice makes me believe that it is not a topic I should press on, which peaks my curiosity, and I push that intrusive thought away as he cracks the egg over the pan. "What you want?" The question is far removed from his previous tone, his voice regaining its deepened structure and there is once more a slight of caricature in the sound rather then a placid nothing. Alleviated from the pressure of the moment though, I don't know what he means, and the cast of a warm glower my way makes bumps under my skin in the obvious silent message that I should. "Your eggs like." Again I grin, because something warm starts flourishing on my tattoo when he says something considerate.
"Runny!" A smirk graces his lips, even as he so plainly rolled his eyes.
"Not burnt?" The grind of my teeth gritting together is hard to miss.
"Just because I'm a fire mage doesn't mean I like everything black and gross!" Then he chuckles, and despite the annoyance at his stereotyping, it does make me squirm again with fluff in my abdomen to hear it.
"What? Like when you almost burnt down the guild?"
"I don't eat embers or ash! And that was one time!"
"You did it six times in one year Natsu." Oh, right.
"Shut up lightning head!" Then theres a scoff, and then an actual laugh, from where I had turnt my head away in some embarrassment I can actually spot that he threw his head back and in looking with full attention- his eyes are closed, they crinkle at the edges when he's laughing.
"Lightning head? Really?" He flicks his gaze to me, and once again I am met with the same expression as the one he had been staring at me with when waking. The same softened look, reminiscent of honey and tea, sweet and comforting. I can feel my blush crawl back up my cheeks once more.
I want to say something back, but my throat feels so tight I can barely manage to mutter: "Well your hair is all spikey..." I guess he was no slouch in hearing though because he laughs again, though not as bellowing, and despite my own minor irritation at the sound, I know I'm grinning.