. standing in the way of control

[stassi siminski]

STASSI

There's that smile. Stassi had in her life had occasions where she had misremembered things, going so far as to create entire untrue realities whilst in a manic state, and she had started to fear that many of her memories were manufactured. But that smile was confirmation that she was remembering that night exactly as it happened, fever dream though it seemed. He kisses her more hungrily than he had even then, an energy she finds easy to reciprocate and exceed, pressing into him more greedily, desperate to drink him in. She moans as he dips to her neck, her heel wedging against a shelf as he holds her hip. She pouts as he speaks. "Scared of a little health code violation?" Of course it's true. She kisses him back, nipping at his lip as she pulls away, nodding. She doesn't even care what a mess the place is, unable to think of anything but her bed and how good he'll look in it. "We should go separately," she says, dancing around the delicate truth of the situation without speaking it. There's a magic in this pantry that may not survive the flights of stairs, few as they were, but it's a risk they'll have to take. She runs her thumb over his mouth, brushing away lip gloss though she quickly kisses him again, rendering the action redundant. "I'll go tell my friends I'm not feeling well. You follow when you can, okay?"

[pat bohannon]

PAT

Bodega is as busy as it's ever been, the crowd as elite as it will ever be, and yet he'd pick being here a million times over. Mind conveniently wiped of the sweet girlfriend he'd dropped off at home for her early call time, or his brother on the other side of the wall, or the people he should be mingling with. For once he's being wildly selfish, Stassi's presence so intoxicating it filtered everything down to want and need. He wanted to leave. He needed her now. Was desperate to ask why her mouth didn't taste like cherries, if he'd affected her that deeply. But instead he nods to her plan, worried that at any second one of them would wake up and come to their senses. Open the door and blink back into the light and forget this moment had ever happened, choosing instead to tug both arms around her, hold her a little softer. Try to lessen the blow so the comedown wasn't so sharp. Swiping the back of his palm against the gloss she left a second time, Pat eyes the small window still void of people, inclining his head to the kitchen. "Coast's clear," he says, the rasp of his voice a pleasant surprise. Only remembering to breathe when she'd slipped away, scrubbing his face with his hands and counting down two minutes before he pulled the handle himself. Unfortunately not so lucky, his brother's curious eyes drifting from the open door to behind his shoulder, Pat's heart all but falling out of his chest at the fact that had they waited a second longer, kissed any further, they'd have been caught. Wondering if he had been anyway, Benny's quizzical look enough to make him sweat. "Where's Stassi?" he finally asks, turning back to flick a burner on. Pat shakes out a breath, leveling his nerves."She wasn't feeling well, went back to her friends." It comes out better than intended, Benny nodding his head at the stove before motioning to the pitcher. "You could use more of that, too." God, if only he knew, Pat all but chugging another glass before he stalked to the doors to the club. Only pausing when he hears his name, turning back to a somber look on his brother's face. Fuck. "Don't be stupid, ok Pat?" he finally hears, like a child being scolded. But instead of ducking his head and running, caught out, he merely smiles, two fingers tipped to his temple before he salutes. "I'm all good," he promises, lies, finally dipping through the doors and weaving his way through thick crowds, heading toward a very familiar set of stairs.

[stassi siminski]

STASSI

Of course this was wrong. Stassi prided herself on being a girls girl, and she had forged something of a connection with Millie across their brief conversation. But in this tiny pantry she's too swept up in the moment to allow any of those thoughts to penetrate. With his lips urgently on hers and the feel of his body under her own, she's confronted by something she didn't have an idea she felt-- ownership. Sure he was his own person, doing this same sordid act out of his own free will, but it was Pat. Her Pat, Pat and Stassi, and that just made sense to her. "See you soon." She takes one last look at him as she's held in his arms, locking in that memory in case he decided he wouldn't follow after her after all. It seems insane that the party has just gone on without him, that people can't tell just by looking at her that she's just had her life turned upside down in the best way. She practically floats over to Jane, having seen that Olivia is deep in a makeout session with Tate, rearranging her features to try to look less pleased than she is. "Hey, I think I've got a migraine coming on," she shout-whispers in her ear, "tell Liv I said bye, will you? Thanks for making me come here, by the way, it was just what I needed. Love you." She gives Jane's bronzed shoulder a squeeze.  She smiles and waves to a couple of familiar faces as she makes her way out, but otherwise everyone is too drunk, too wrapped up in their own worlds to care about hers. Before long she's at the door to her apartment and she takes a big breath before she opens it, not sure how much of a mess she'd left this time. It's actually not too bad. Cluttered with trinkets, candles, drying herbs and all sorts of witchy accoutrements, yes, but that's to be expected. She kicks a pile of clothes she'd been trying on earlier under her bed, checking her phone before she quickly brushes her teeth, fixing her hair and switching out into a deep red slip. God, it felt insane to be doing this for him. Stassi didn't much believe in manifestation but the number of times she'd imagined exactly this scenario made her wonder if there was something to it after all.

[pat bohannon]

PAT

Maybe it all should have been enough. The subtle warning from Benny and the immediate rush for his attention from the crowd, congratulations and handshakes and quick hugs swarming his senses as he pushed through the masses. Knowing any other night he'd be reveling in this moment. Conversations flowing, drinks unlimited, excitement unstoppable. But tonight he's already a million miles upstairs, tipping his head at Luiz before he disappeared again. Too afraid to find Edie because she'd have too much sense, and the only thing he'd been reduced to now was impulse. And curiosity, and lust, and need. And a reflexive sense of anxiety as he ascends, so used to her door never opening for him. Pat can't count the number of times she'd had one of her down weeks and he'd left food for her, or the deflective silence he'd been met with after Vegas when he'd finally worked up the courage to knock. Hoping it's different this time as his fist softly meets her doorway, hand running through his hair again as the world continued to settle. Knowing in a matter of time he'd be facing this all a little differently, leaning against the frame and braving a grin when it wildly, finally, tugged open. Pat's eyes drop to take in her outfit change, the red another sharp contrast to the fragile look on her face. Both of them a little out of their depth that this was happening again, flashbacks spurring him forward, hands coming back up to frame her face. Softly this time, taking a few seconds to look at her before he kissed her again. Slow and deep and steady, whispering a "hi," against the plush of her lip before pressing forward once again. Still as fevered but less desperate, moment decidedly a little more sweet as he gently pushed her back toward her bed. "Move, Stas."

[stassi siminski]

STASSI

She had managed to steal enough time to light some candles and spray herself with perfume, channeling her nervous energy into these minor tasks as she banished all thoughts of him being a no-show from her mind. If there was one thing Pat had been to her, it was dependable. Persevering through her sudden, prolonged absences, ensuring she never starved. He had always waved away any awkwardness when she did reappear, usually giving her a hug and going along with her rouse that she'd been there all along. Despite her bravado, Stassi was someone who found the world overwhelming and cruel, so his quiet tenderness had come to be something she depended on. Right on cue, there's a knock at the door. Heart rate increasing again, she eschews her usual attempts to play it cool, closing the distance to the door as quickly as she can to fling it open. He kisses her and it reaffirms something she had sensed from the first second they met, her mid screaming at him over the construction noise: he was one of the most complex people she had ever met. Managing to kiss her with a potency that reflected not just lust, which was easy and dime a dozen, but tenderness, a kiss that managed to convey that he was there for all the reasons she was and it wasn't just sex. She's breathless when he pulls away, murmuring a "hi" back. Pushed back into her space, she drags him to the bed, sitting him down on its edge though she feels a creeping shyness she's never experienced before. At least, not since those fateful 7 minutes in heaven. "Is this weird for you?"

[pat bohannon]

PAT

He’d never been able to predict her. Never before and likely never in the future either, a complex paradox of moods and preferred cliches. A mask of taunts and vulnerability, wrapped up in a face that would hide everything or spare nothing. The look she gives him now is easy, readable - but it’s always another breath before he knows what she’ll do next. Reaching for her the moment he tipped to her bed, afraid to let go and watch this all slip through his fingers, much like the silk that now pooled at her hips as he grasped them. Unable to explain how it’s like a void being filled, words lost as the moment expanded, quiet eyes just drinking her in. Hands gliding down to tug at her knees, pull her closer as he shook his head. "No." It’s honest, and quiet, mood shifting from downstairs to this sweet sort of hesitance. Curving a lock of hair behind her ear, trying to gather what he wanted back into words. "It wasn’t weird then, either. I just…" Am drunk. There’s others involved. Know this is wrong. All of those thoughts washing away at the sight of her clear, wary blue eyes. Blue, now. He liked when they were blue. "I’m just thinking about what you said. Trying to remember all the ways it was good for you so I can do it again."

[stassi siminski]

STASSI

She doesn't think this would have happened if it hadn't happened in Vegas first. This block, this building was as much a part of their relationship as each other, an initial meeting point, a place where they had voyeuristically watched each other romance others, a place they had mutually avoided each other in. They felt apart of it, of the walls, a chapter in the building's history that would live on long after they were no longer there. So it would have been too sacred a ground to break with that first tryst, the unreality of Vegas allowing them to shake off their inhibitions, giving in to their base desires. Though now that he's here, his masculine features cast in candlelight, Stassi is sure nothing has ever been so correct. Unbuttoning his shirt as they kiss, she breaks away to laugh at what he's said. The idea of him trying to reverse engineer what was clearly an innate ability, his skilfulness not even dampened by drugs and alcohol. Sex had always been a performance for her but with him it had felt so different, as natural and comfortable as it was thrilling and intimidating. "You don't need to worry about that," she murmured, kissing him again, her words a mumble against his lips as his facial hair tickled her skin. "I haven't cum with anyone since I first got put on my meds like six years ago... you taught me that I still can." It's a confession she would never make to anyone else, even if it had been true for anyone else— which it truly had not. She had gotten used to her new reality, but as with so many things, Pat had shown her that there was a whole world she had yet to sample. "Why don't you let me show you how grateful I am?"

[pat bohannon]

PAT

It felt different entirely, existing in her space like this. Not rushing her out the door or helplessly lingering on the other side for a sign of acknowledgment, but feeling the warmth of the candles and her skin. The heat of her mouth, the smoke of her words. It’s just as addictive as the space that disappeared between them, the clothing lost to the ground as he raked the slip up her trembling thighs. Stilling at the weight of her confession, pulling back to test her honesty and floored when it rang true. Pride licks through his veins, eyes darkening at it being him. Only him, tossing away the comparisons to chase another kiss he drove with heat. Nipping at her bottom lip, pondering her proposal before his hands gripped her hips, seamlessly flipping them to hover over her. Mouth split into that same smile. Moonlight spilled over her skin like Vegas all over again, and he’d be damned if he didn’t meet her comment at its challenge. "After that? Nah, I’d rather watch you cum first all over again."

[stassi siminski]

STASSI

It shouldn't, but the secrecy made this all the more delicious. His touch made her skin feel enflamed, just one of the many cliches she had heard a million times but never truly understood until she met him. She now understood what it meant to think of love as a drug, chasing the high of his affection. She knew what it felt like to stand on the precipice of something, looking down at the steep drop with an equal amount of fear and exhilaration. It was crazy to her that sex, something she was so casual about, could be so incredibly intoxicating. But she feels all of the above and more as she pushes off his shirt greedily, taking in his perfect physique. Her confession has its desired effect. She's so used to sex as a pawn to play, able to think of just the right thing to say to ignite that fire in a man. But it's different with Pat. He sees right through her, so she only has one weapon in her arsenal; the truth. Still, powerful as that is, she's outgunned. His response makes a moan escape her lips entirely unintentionally, her fingers reaching to her mouth to silence herself. "Mmm, god. I think I.--" What? she doesn't want to say, her heart fit to burst, her adrenaline meeting her drunkenness and making her lose all sense. She corrects herself, not wanting to spoil anything. "... I've never wanted anyone like this. It's been driving me insane, and that's coming from someone who was insane to begin with."

[pat bohannon]

PAT

The room held a perfect tension, balanced on the precipice of their heated gazes and the softer moments that broke through. To Pat, sex had always been a present, but temporary thing. Touch to sighs to quivers to blissful satisfaction, a symphony he'd seen play over enough faces to know what to look for. To chase, to pursue. But with Stassi came this heightened sense of awareness, a high he'd been craving from the moment her lithe legs had curled around his hips. Wanting her to understand he cared as much about getting her off as he did about her, now pleasantly content with the knowledge that he'd managed to do both. Loving when she tried to hold back because it was something new to coax out of her, underlying trust blending into sweet torture as his head dipped down. Watching her slip slide as her hand rose, exposed skin his for the taking as lips grazed her hip. Made a war torn path of his tongue and his teeth, curved the inside of her thigh, the cool of his breath pointed and brief before surging back up to kiss her and dragging his hand between her thighs. "It's been driving me crazy too," Pat manages, his voice husky and already so far gone. Knowing they had the morning or night to lose themselves in, millions of impossibilities and truths to explore as his touch drifted deeper, head tilting up as Stassi's fell back. Trying to keep his wits as much as he was trying to break hers. "What were you trying to say, before?"

[stassi siminski]

STASSI

The candle on her bedside table is emitting a strong clove and vetiver scent, pairing perfectly with the whisky on his breath, the woodiness of his cologne. Their last tryst had been so hued by intoxication, a chemical euphoria paired with animalistic inhibition brought on by drink. She had tried to put the potency of her memories down to that heady combination, but now that she's far less impaired by comparison, she realizes she still feels everything she felt that night, perhaps even more strongly than before. She wanted to observe him like a beautiful thing, held at arms length, to be studied like a piece in a museum. She also wanted to consume him, to get so close to him it would be impossible to know where one of them ended and the other began. She wanted him, all of him, corporeal and otherwise. Though his breath on the softness of her inner thighs brings her right back into her body. Occupying herself in a way she so seldom did, her fingers grasp the back of his neck as she pushes into his hand, slick and yielding, desperate, even. The throaty tinge to his voice does something to her, her hormones in overrdrive. She had read once that compatible people smell good to each other in a way that was unique to them, pheromones like smoke signals that this was someone you should fuck. "Patrick," she moans, believing that fact she'd read. His fingers press deeper and she presses herself against them in response, her head tilting back as her lips part in a pant. "I-- fuck," a moan steals the words out of her throat. One hand moves to his jaw, her thumb against his mouth as she tilts her hips just so, letting the sensation ripple through her body. "I can't remember, don't stop."

[pat bohannon]

PAT

It's a blur and a static, the room as frenetic as the harsh of his grip on her silken sheets, as thick as the tumbling spill of her curls. Committing this all to the depths of his memory, knowing that the first time hadn't been a curiosity sated. A spark blown, a fuse adrift. No, it only burned brighter, captured in the clash of a kiss and the pulse of his fingers within her. Drug deeper by the rasp of his own name, the quick flicker of ecstasy over her features, daring it again as his thumb pressed against her clit. Relishing the rarity of her bending to anyone's will, rendered wordless, breathless, untamed eyes watching the heave in her chest, the jolt of her body as he got curious and crooked his touch. Pat sometimes fought a losing battle when he fucked, giving way to a detachment that left him out of his head but in tune with their bodies. An inherent formula - say the right thing, do the right thing, and send whoever she was trembling in his hold. But he was here, wanted to stay, brushing a kiss against the edge of her thumb as his gaze fought to hold hers. Pinning the angle she'd changed her hips to with his weight, driving deeper with every shift of his wrist. "Like this?" He asks darkly, lips catching hers again. Dark and light, heavy and soft. Never enough, drifting to her ear. "What about my mouth? Me inside you? Tell me what you want, Stassi."

[stassi siminski]

STASSI

Any guilt she felt is pushed to the depths of her psyche, too lost in the intoxicating sin of him being knuckle deep inside her. She lifts her legs to wrap them tighter around him, higher, hitching her hips higher and pushing him deeper. His lips brushing a kiss against her thumb makes her lean in and kiss him properly, hungrily, her tongue loose in his mouth as she struggles to focus on anything other than the building pleasure deep in her core. Leaning back on the bed, she props herself onto her elbows, eyes determinedly on his as he meticulously presses every nerve ending at his disposal. There's a magic at play here. His determination to repeat past glories, her ability to lose herself, both mingling with a mutual attraction so strong it had caused them to mutually abandon their morality. Right now it feels far too good to dwell on. She finally breaks eye contact, her eyes on her ceiling as she falls back onto her bed entirely, her legs bent at the knee and falling open easily. She pulls herself back up in time for him to whisper in her ear, setting every nerve in her body aflame. "Don't let me cum, not yet," she murmurs. It was such a novelty for her that she worried it was precarious, a once-a-session treat. Leaning in to kiss him again, her hand moves to the crotch of his pants, her lips curling into a grin as she felt the bulging hardness under her open palm. "I want to taste you."

[pat bohannon]

PAT

He'd do anything to see her fully give up control. Already in tune with the sweet pitched sighs from her mouth, the way she fought for more, always more, adding another finger when she gasped around his tongue. Witnessing one of the most beautiful sights he'd ever seen when she pulled herself up against the bed. Eyes drowning in lust, pinned on him, chest flushed the color of the silk that pulled taut against her skin. Wild and erotic and impossible to look away from, Pat feels the blood continue to pool as she falls. Though he stills at her request, the satisfaction she could have been close is enough to hinge his hopes on as their lips meet again. Convinced that he'd know, one day, every way to make her come undone. With his hands, on his tongue, mouth dropping away as her touch dared against the pressing problem in his jeans. "Fuck," he breathes, leaning in to kiss her again before finally, blessedly, pulling the tiny dress over her head. Tempted by the miles of her pale skin but ever aware of her words, Pat's eyes never leave her as he methodically undoes the buckle on his belt. Sheds his jeans and his boxers, dick hard against his stomach when he rejoins her on the bed. Tugging her back in for a feverish kiss, dark hair bundled in his grasp when his words ghost across her swollen lips. "All yours."

[stassi siminski]

STASSI

The world outside those four walls ceased to exist. He wasn't Pat, the smooth entrepreneurial founder of the bar downstairs. She wasn't Stassi, the troubled door girl pulling a vanishing act. He wasn't somebody else's boyfriend. They were two halves of a whole, a fusion of pure erotic desire that was fuelled by an intimacy that was beyond skin deep. Almost as deep as his fingers were inside of her right now. She can't help but pout as he withdraws them, though she's rewarded for her patience with the sight of him reaching for his belt. Naked, she leans back to watch him as he undresses, her eyes locked on his as he reveals more and more of his perfect physique, even better than she remembered. Entangled, she slips her leg over his, deepening the kiss with a need that was frankly maddening. His words spur her on, leaning back and running the flat of her tongue from her palm to her fingertips. Eyes still on his, she can't help the smirk that creeps across her tender lips as she reaches down, wrapping around his thickness. "You have no idea how much I've thought about this," she purrs, kissing him again as her hand works his length, relishing his responsiveness. Slowly she edges down the bed, tracing kisses down his chiseled torso as she goes, her hand still rhythmic. "You sure you want this?"