Release Who: Zania and Lance Where: Central Park When: Evening Warning: NSFW
Zania hated missing out on the daytime activities due to her “sun allergy”. It frustrated her to no end that she could be out there, meeting people and having fun, but was instead stuck inside. The best she could do was join in the second the sun went down, which was what she did today. It seemed as good an opportunity as any to advertise her club and raise a little money, so she set up a table alongside the other vendors, jars of moonshine out in front of her. And a bottle of juice. She’d taken a shot herself, just to get the party started, and waited for people to come by and drink up.
Lance still had Slyvia’s umbrella, closed and in one hand, using it more like a fancy cane, but mostly enjoying that he had it. He’d filled more of his pockets, some useful things he needed, including a pack of smokes, and some things he might have to refind the owners to to give back. Or just give to someone else. Pay it forward or what have you.
He was wandering booths now that the sun was down, looking at the lights, watching people, but the new booth caught his attention. That hadn’t been there earlier. Slowing his steps he gave the girl behind it a curious look. “So what’s this?”
“Moonshine and fruit juice,” Zania smiled before popping a cherry into her mouth and pulling out the stem. She twirled it between her fingers, wondering if she could tie it in a knot with her tongue ring in. “I just got approval to build a club and I’m raising money to help build out the inside. Want a shot?”
Lance lifted the umbrella, twirling it in one hand before dropping it on his shoulder. “Yes,” he said to the shot. “A club. Interesting. Seems like now that we’re locked in here, we’re going to enjoy getting our hot mess on.” That was fitting. “What kind of club?”
“Well, I’d planned on setting one up even before the doors locked,” she said, pouring him a shot and adding orange juice, plus a cherry on the side. “A dance club, though I think I could do different things on different nights, if that’s what people wanted. I DJ.”
Lance nodded. “Haven’t been to a club in ages.” Probably since before it was legal for him to get into one. He took the shot, downing it one gulp, then going for the cherry, dropping in that in his mouth in a way he knew drew attention. If anything, Lance was aware of what he was capable of. “I think you should do what you want to do, not what people want. Generally, they’re stupid.”
Zania found herself watching him and wondering if he could tie the cherry stem in a knot. “What I want to do is dance and play music. Any kind. And I realize that I’ll have more customers if I play a bigger variety, catering to different audiences at different times. Trust me, I won’t play anything I don’t like,” she said, pouring him a second shot, this one for free. “Do you dance?”
“Just don’t go and turn it into a country and western bar,” Lance said with a grin, something charming because of how well it fit him. He reached for the shot, snagging it before she could add the juice, because really, who needed juice? It just watered down what he really wanted. “I can be convinced.” He watched her over the top of the glass before kicking the shot of straight moonshine back. The burn was perfect, something he’d loved tasting even when the gin came out of someone’s bathtub and tasted like turpentine.
“Got something against country?” she asked. While she loved her club music, she was still a southern girl with southern tastes. It was hard to imagine her in boots, right up till the point that she had them on, then they seemed to fit just fine. “How many drinks does it take to convince you?” she laughed. Most people wouldn’t drink her moonshine straight. It was strong and it burned like the devil, but it got the job done.
“Too many old memories,” Lance said shaking his head. He hadn’t had to sneak into those bars. They let him in to drag his drunk-ass father out. “Convince me to dance or listen to country music?” he asked, with a grin and reaching for another cherry.
She knew how that went. Music brought back memories, both happy and sad. Some songs she avoided just for that reason, until she decided that she wanted to remember. If she was going to live forever, she didn’t want to forget. “Either, or,” Zania grinned.
He studied the shot glass. “One more to dance probably if the girl asking is right.” Or the guy. The voice in the back of his head reminded him of how wide his preference was, but he never brought that part to light. Not a chance. “For the music...at least three more.” Good and drunk. Then he’d listen to it. And probably lose a few days from being too depressed to move.
“Well, then it’s not worth listening to it because you’ll be out cold,” Zania said, pouring him another shot because, well, she wanted the possibility of dancing, even if she didn’t know his name. She even poured another one for herself. “Is country the only thing you avoid? I love myself some blues from time to time. And what kind of girl is the right girl?”
Lance shook his head. “I’d still be with you. Three sheets to the wind, but you’d be surprised at how well I hold my liquor.” Considering he’d been drinking since he was a teenager, he had to be good at it. “Probably the only thing, yes,” he said before shrugging. “She’d have to strike me.” Which was honest. He didn’t get behind the ‘looks are everything’ mentality. The people he was attracted to just struck him. For some reason he was caught up in them and as a result, he was interested.
“I can hold my liquor, but five shots of this stuff and I’ll be laying on the ground, singing till the sun comes up,” Zania smiled. And then she’d burn. It was a good enough reason not to overdo it outside, on the off-chance she passed out on the lawn. “Good girls are hard to find. About as hard as guys. So, what’s your name?”
“There’s nothing saying that’s a bad way to be,” Lance pointed out, smirking slightly. He’d been there and done that. Thankfully Kenzie usually found him, not his father. “Never said anything about good,” he corrected with a grin. “Lance.”
“I’m allergic to the sun,” she said, shrugging a shoulder as if it was nothing. “If I’m gonna pass out, I need it to be inside a house. But that’s true enough. I half-remember some incredible nights where I woke up under a table.” She couldn’t have been more than fifteen the first time that happened, probably younger, but that’s what happened when your family ran a bar. “Everyone’s definition of good is a bit different,” she smirked, holding out her hand. “Nice to meet you, Lance. I’m Zania.”
“That would be a problem. Just means you need a wingman to drag you back indoors.” He smiled and took her offered hand. “Pleased to meet you. Especially considering,” he gestured towards the alcohol. “What’s your definition of good?”
“So long as my wingman doesn’t get as shitfaced as I do, sure,” she laughed. It would be easy for someone to drag her anywhere, if they knew to do so, but the plan failed if they passed out beside her. “Thanks. I make it myself,” she smiled, then raised her eyes to the sky, considering the question. “Hmm… A guy that wants me more than anyone else.”
“Ahh the wingman never gets as shitfaced. That’s the point.” Lance grinned. His wingman was usually Kenzie, though they did tend to trade off the role. He just drank more. “More than anyone else? That’s pretty steep isn’t it?”
“Maybe,” she said, sipping at her second shot, then sucking on a cherry. “I don’t want to be second best. I’m already playing backup to a friend of mine and I don’t like it. Would you really want to be with someone knowing that they want to be with someone else?”
“Depends on who the someone else is. I mean, I’m not Brad Pitt you know?” Lance proposed. “Second fiddle to someone else? How’s that work exactly?” That was a shame really. She did deserve better than someone she was with being into someone attainable, but he didn’t know the details. Plus, he was enjoying watching her suck on the cherry.
“Okay, I’ll give you that,” she laughed. “I guess there’s always someone else if you look at it like that.” If she could have anyone in the entire world? Zania didn’t even know who she’d pick. Not Mickey, but not Dorian. Someone that loved her enough not to cheat on her. It didn’t sound like it should be so hard to find, but it was. “It doesn’t work. Not really. I’m starting to think he’s not worth my time.” She liked Mickey, but the signals he sent were so mixed it made her head hurt.
“And beyond that there’s porn,” Lance said with a little face and a nod. “Sounds like he isn’t. If you’re not happy and it’s not working. Sticking with it just seems like a bad idea. I say, find someone else more worth your time.”
“Yeah, but that’s a lot of work these days. You’ve got to have a tv and a dvd player, and then you have to have the discs. It’s not like when people could just load up the internet and go to town,” she grinned, finally finishing off her second shot. She was tempted to pour herself another, but that would be a bit much. She’d be under her own table before the night was through. “Let’s not talk about Mickey. Let’s talk about you. Where’re you from, Lance?”
“You’d be surprised at what an underground market that is. You can make a racket off of it,” Lance said shaking his head. “I actually look for DVDs or whatever every time I go out and raid something.” He watched her finish off the shot and nod approvingly. “Better plan, let’s not talk about the map dot I’m from. Nothing interesting. What about you? Where’s home?”
“Oh, I’m sure you can. I’ve spent all my money on stuff for my club, though. I can barely afford the batteries.” Working batteries were needed for very few things in her collection, her vibrater being one of them. If she could find one that charged, she’d be all set, but those were far more expensive. “So you’re a trader, stuck inside. I’m originally from New Orleans, Louisiana. I miss Bourbon Street.”
“Fuck the batteries, you just need a working partner,” Lance said, smile looking almost wicked. “Very stuck. New Orleans? Nice. I’d like to have seen it. Didn’t get out much until there wasn’t much beyond zombies to stay for.”
“I’m picky, remember?” she smirked as she picked up another cherry to suck on suggestively. If she was willing to be with just anyone, she wouldn’t have had a problem. “It was a great city. Lots of history and lots of booze. My parents owned a bar, so I know the business.”
“Yeah, well stop that. Let yourself have some fun,” Lance said, watching her mouth and not able to help licking his lips at the sight. She knew what she was doing too. “Then you’ll be a natural.”
It sounded so easy, but it was hard for her to let go sometimes. It took trust and that was something she was severely lacking. Liquor helped dull those concerns, though. “If I did, where would that get me?” she asked curiously.
“It’d probably get you laid,” Lance said, as if that was obvious. “Which might solve half your problems.” Not that he would know, but he could offer it as a solution.
“Only half,” she giggled, knowing she was starting to feel the effects if she was making that noise. “Are you one of those guys that thinks everyone would be better off if they just got laid more often? Or are you giving me advice based on my situation?”
The giggle was actually kind of adorable, and totally caught Lance’s attention. “I’m both actually. I’m not a whore or anything, but I do know that some people could use a little release and it’s a mostly harmless form, which is good considering how many harmful options there are.”
He was right about that. She’d gotten a lot of her frustrations out killing wolves, but it didn’t take care of them all. Every time she saw Mickey, she got frustrated with herself, annoyed that she wanted someone that didn’t really want her. Or didn’t want her enough. And maybe her problem was that he was the only guy that had shown even the tiniest bit of interest and so she’d latched on, desperate for more. “True,” she said, pushing another shot over to him. “You know, we do have whores in the dome now. Or a brothel. For just that reason, actually. But I don’t think I could ever pay for sex.”
"I do know about that." He'd even considered offering up his own services after Kenzie told him about the job, but his motivations were a little clouded and something he wasn't entirely proud of. So far, he'd stayed away from the brothel, but it was likely just a matter of time. "You think that, but is it really all that different from paying for food?" He took the new shot, downing it with ease and while he could feel his senses dulling in that glorious way, it barely showed.
“You need food to survive,” Zania pointed out, the alcohol in her system beginning to make it’s appearance through exaggerated gestures. “I’ve yet to hear of anyone dying for lack of sex.” If that were really a thing, then maybe she would loosen up a little. It would be easier to tell herself she ‘needed it’. “Plus, it’s a personal thing, to let someone that close. I don’t have to trust someone to eat with them, but I do to sleep with them, at least a little.”
"Then you grow it yourself. You choose to buy it," Lance pointed out, steering his analogy in the right direction. It wasn't paying for something needed, it was choosing to pay for something that didn't need to be paid for. "Is it? What's so close about it? Being naked? Because could get naked right here and the worse that happens is I scare some kids." He tugged at the edge of his shirt, pulling it up a little to reveal his stomach and teasing at taking it off.
“If that’s the case, then I want it for free,” she grinned. It wasn’t that she couldn’t find anyone to have sex with, but that she wanted more than that. She didn’t know if she could separate her emotions from the act, which was necessary if she was ever to try and purchase it. “I seriously doubt anyone would be scared,” she smirked, eyes dropping to that little sliver of skin he’d revealed. “It’s not the nudity, but the intimacy. Can you really have sex with someone without any kind of emotional connection?”
"They wouldn't?" Lance asked, not letting go of his shirt, especially when she was looking. "I can. I travel a lot. People need someone else for a night and it works. Maybe you see them again, maybe not." He shrugged his shoulders. He'd been with plenty of women he wasn't really interested in, sometimes just to prove that he could be with a woman.
“Well, I wouldn’t,” she grinned. In fact, she’d enjoy seeing more and didn’t really care who might protest. “I don’t know if I can,” she admitted. “Separate the two, I mean. I don’t travel like you do, plus I want more than that.” There were plenty of people out there who might be willing to use her, but that wasn’t what she wanted. She didn’t think it was that hard to understand, yet she hadn’t met a guy yet that was interested in actually being with her.
The liquor was definitely hitting him. He had his hand on his bare stomach, liking the sensation. "Well, I got a plan. You figure out about some distance between the two and you let me know. We can work out some of that frustration. Or if you just want to piss that other guy off."
“I figure out some distance?” she asked, a little fuzzy on how that worked. She was busy wondering if he’d let her lick his stomach. She had the feeling he’d be just fine with it. “I doubt he’d even care. Probably be glad I found someone else to distract me. What kind of a guy sleeps next to a drunk girl and doesn’t even kiss her?”
"Between the emotion and sex." Drunk felt good. It was settling on him like a protective blanket and Lance felt invincible. "I think the classy kind. Not the normal kind because If you were drunk and in my bed you'd probably not get much sleep." Because why not? She was cute and curvy and he could totally take that for a ride. It'd be fun. It wasn't like Lance had an actual type.
“Class is over-rated,” Zania said with a roll of her eyes as she spun a cherry stem between her fingers. “People that think they have class are super judgey. They think the girl with the tongue ring must be easy. Or that the quiet girls are innocent. I don’t know that I want a guy with class. I want a guy with character.” Someone who knew what they wanted and was willing to go for it. Zania reached out and poked his abs with her finger, since they were still exposed. “You think you’re the normal kind?”
"Having grown up in a trailer park, I can confirm that class is mostly bullshit. And the quiet ones are always wild." Lance grinned when touched him, but his free hand caught hers in a flash, around the wrist, keeping it close to his skin. "Normal enough."
Zania had grown up in the opposite of a trailer park, but she wasn’t about to tell him that. Who cared if her family had had money once upon a time? Drug money was different than old money, and old money had turned up their noses at her. “Kinda nice that everyone was put on equal ground,” she said, eyes rising to his as he held her wrist in place. Her palm spread over his stomach, absorbing his warmth. “What if I’m not?”
"Something like that," Lance said, letting out a breath as she touched him. "Depends on what kind of not normal," he said, spouting the right answer, not the true one. In reality, he didn't really care. He wasn't normal either.
“That’s for me to know and you to find out,” she smirked, her fingers drifting down his abs to hook into his pants. “Stay a while,” she said, tugging him closer. “Tell me how you’ve been keeping yourself busy while stuck in the dome.”
He moved when she pulled him closer, grinning widely. She was playing well, which was fun. "When do I get to find out?" He'd let go of her wrist, but she didn't need him to. She was doing plenty on her own. "I drank a lot." He'd actually spent the first few days beside himself, wracked with his depression, but she didn't need to know that.
“Depends,” she said, looking up at him as she breathed in his scent. Boys had their own unique smell, one that she found addictive. It was too bad she didn’t get to enjoy it as much as she wanted. “I only tell my secrets to people I trust, and we’ve only just met.” So far, the only person outside her family that she’d willingly told what she was was Clementine. She wasn’t going to tell Lance unless she had to, and she didn’t see any way that would happen. “You wouldn’t happen to have a drum set in your lot of stuff for sale, would you?”
"And I'm hardly trustworthy," Lance said. He kept secrets well, but he was a flake. He knew it. Looking down at her hand in his jeans, he smirked. "How about you look and tell me."
Zania raised a brow. She didn’t want to leave her table, not without someone to watch it for her, but she didn’t have that much stuff. She could pull it into the club and lock it up, if need be. “Where would we have to go?” she asked, still holding on to him.
Lance reached past her and poured them each another shot. "I have a house that way," he said nodding towards where he lived with Kenzie. "But given your interest in what's in my jeans anywhere will do." Maybe he was talking about something else. Probably. But he was a touch drunk and really didn't care.
“I was asking about drums!” she giggled, releasing his pants as she reached for the shot. “That’s not what you call them, I hope. A drum set. I play the drums.” That made her laugh even more, at the idea that she might play his drum set, whatever that meant.
"I don't call them anything," he told her, pouring back his shot. "But you can play with whatever you want." Because that sounded fun.
Zania stood, her hands pressing against the table top as she leaned towards Lance. “Help me put the stuff in my club and we’ll go for a walk,” she grinned. “I want to see what you’ve got for sale.” Not him, though. She wanted him for free.
Lance smirked and nodded. "You got it." He had his hands on her moonshine first, then waited for whatever else she intended him to carry. The real question would be if they left her club, but they'd deal with that later.
There wasn’t a lot she needed to move, just the things she didn’t want to have stolen. She grabbed the fruit, then led the way to her club, surprised to find that her steps were a bit more unsteady than she expected. How much had she had to drink again? “I just got the keys, so it’s pretty empty,” she smiled over her shoulder as she unlocked the door. “But it will be amazing when it’s done.”
Lance noted that waver in her steps but didn't comment on it. Not a chance. She needed to lighten up, so when she spoke, he grinned. "I'm sure it will. Just avoid sawdust on the floor and you'll be good."
“Sawdust?” she asked, opening the door into the darkness. It was weird how easily she could see, even with so little light. She set the fruit down inside the door, then turned to face the inside of the club. “I want a bar along that side, with a stage down on that end, and the dance floor over there,” she said, pointing out her directions with a bright smile.
"Country and western club," Lance explained, following her in and closing the door behind them. He watched her point things out, but then wound up focusing on her instead, fingers trailing down her back. "Sounds cool."
“Definitely not a country and western club,” Zania said, her eyes shutting as his fingers slid down her back. That was nice. “Very cool. You’ll have to come dance with me once I get it set up,” she said, turning towards him.
"Only after a couple of drinks," he reminded her. Not that it would really take that, he'd just be more willing. "What was it you wanted to see again?" He asked, mock question curious what she might do when asked.
“You’ve already had two on the house,” she reminded him with a soft laugh. His question made her pause, forcing her to try and remember. “Drums,” she said, moving close to him, her hand on his stomach as if she somehow associated the two. “You said you might have drums with your trade stuff.”
"I might pay for those," Lance said, pleased with her hand on his stomach. "No, I said you were welcome to look. And at the time, you had a hold on my jeans. I was definitely submitting to a strip search." He caught her chin with one hand, tilting her face up to him. "What was it the other guy did wrong again?"
Zania clicked her tongue at him, a bit disappointed that he might not have a drum set, yet amused at the insinuation. “I could have told you you didn’t have a drum set in your pants,” she snickered, grabbing hold of his jeans again as he tilted her face up towards his. “He led me on,” she said softly, smile slipping. “Sent mixed signals.”
Lance felt that thrill that came with doing something massively impulsive as she took hold of his pants again. "No? You sure you don't want to check?" He was laying out a dare, sure she'd back down. "Signals don't get mixed. People don't give in to what they want."
Zania had a thing about dares. She never, ever backed down. Anyone who knew her growing up could have told him that and it hadn’t changed, even if less people knew. If she was going to be challenged, then she was going to prove herself, plain and simple. This time wasn’t any different, but she wasn’t going to give in to a ploy like that quite so easily. “Am I going to be disappointed?” she asked, finger sliding along the waistband to the button. “Maybe they just don’t want it bad enough.”
He might have shivered at her touch if he hadn't been drunk. Instead he just grinned. "You won't. Trust me." Shaking his head he leaned down towards her. "Maybe, but more likely something talked him out of it." That one Lance knew first hand. How many guys had he wanted to be with but his father's voice in his ear had convinced him otherwise?
She couldn’t imagine what had talked Mickey out of it. He’d never dared to make a move on her, not until he was sleep deprived and had already been turned down by December. And what kind of lame ass move was that? She didn’t want to think on it, still bitter about that memory, while this one was so much more interesting. If Lance had her up on the counter, she doubted he’d be thinking of anyone but her. “His loss,” she smirked as her hand slid over the front of his jeans, directly over his crotch.
“That’s what I was thinking,” Lance said, voice dropping to a murmur as she touched him, even if it was just through his jeans. That was what he had in mind for sure. He didn’t hesitate in kissing her, pushing the envelope to see what she’d do. He could definitely ride this out.
It felt like it had been forever since she’d been properly kissed. Zania kissed him back eagerly, her hand squeezing between his legs as she considered moving his jeans out of the way. Not yet, she told herself. Not yet. Kissing him was too good and that would distract her completely, especially since she wasn’t quite sure she wanted to take things that far. Not yet.
Lance let out a soft growl at what she was doing with her hand, pulling her up closer and a little harder to deepen the kiss. In the back of his mind he had a feeling that she might not follow through with what she was starting, or that she might think of it as more than what it was, but he wasn’t bothering with that now.
Zania let out a soft moan as he pulled her closer, finding it easier and easier to forget about what she might not want while he was kissing her. She knew he didn’t want more than a fuck, that much he’d been clear on from the start, but maybe all guys were like that. Maybe she’d be happier if she just gave in and took what she could get, rather than holding out for something that didn’t even exist.
That was what he wanted to hear, fingers already along her lower back under her shirt, pressing the waistband of her shorts. Yes, he wanted one thing. He was feeling good. Getting that one thing was going to be good.
She released him to wrap her arms around him, pull him as close as she physically could. Zania couldn’t get over how warm he felt and wanted more of his skin pressed against hers. When she deepened the kiss, she tasted blood, but didn’t stop at the appearance of her fangs. He’d just need to be more careful, she thought drunkenly, amused that kissing had just become a bit more dangerous.
The spark of pain wasn’t a thing, Lance had done pain. His whole life was a brand of pain. He’d taken hits before. He’d been with dangerous women before. The blood, that was done. Kisses got rough. Plus he was a little drunk. But then he was running his tongue along her teeth and caught something else altogether. It was enough to have him pulling back, half confused and rubbing at the edge of his lip. What the hell was that?
“Nooo,” Zania whined when he pulled back, her fingers in his shirt as she pulled him in for another kiss. She knew he was likely figuring it out and she had to get control over it, to make them go away before he wanted to stop completely.
Kissing her was still fun, really fun and for a second that was distracting, but he was still pulling back, tongue catching her fangs again. Right that was wrong. “What?” Lance sounded more confused than anything else. “Something’s weird.” Or she’d slipped more than just alcohol into the moonshine.
That little bit of blood had her licking her lips, wanting more of a taste, but recognizing she couldn’t have it. Which was a shame. From the teaser, he was delicious. “Nothing’s wrong,” she said, barely nipping his bottom lip then sucking the blood from it. “I’m just not normal, remember?” Nowhere near normal, but she didn’t want to get into it if he’d let her glaze over it.
This was a level of not normal that even Lance wasn’t. “Uh..” He was confused. But drunk. And maybe that was helping things. “Nothing’s wrong?”
Zania groaned in frustration, but pulled back enough to look in his eyes. He was definitely drunk. She could taste it on his kiss and in his blood. If she wanted to, she could pass this off as a drunken episode and he’d never be none the wiser. But to do that, she had to talk, and she didn’t know if it was dark enough to hide her fangs. “Will you keep my secret?” she asked instead.
Lance blinked at her, not sure why she was asking him that. “Yes.” He kept secrets. Lots of secrets. Mostly his own, but lots of them.
She reached for his hand, then slowly brought it up to her mouth and pressed one finger against a fang. He’d obviously noticed something was up, but didn’t seem clear on what it was. She wasn’t going to spell it out for him, but maybe this would help.
He hesitated, then moved back in closer, thumb running along her fang. “That’s...weird.”
“It is,” she agreed. It was very weird. If she were kissing a guy and he suddenly had fangs, she might have freaked out, but he didn’t seem too scared. Probably because he was drunk. “I usually have more control over them, but I won’t hurt you.”
He was drunk. This would bother him when he wasn’t. Right now it was just weird. “You bit me.” Which wasn’t much, but it was something.
“Not properly, no,” she said with a little smirk, fingers slipping into the belt loops of his jeans and tugging him closer again. “It was just a little nip. Is that enough to scare you off?”
He leaned in more as she tugged, fingers cupping her cheek instead. “No. I don’t think so. Remind me why not?”
“Do you want me?” she asked, lips grazing his with a kiss. She wasn’t sure how this had gotten turned around, how she was talking him into it, but she didn’t like it near as much. It reminded her of Mickey, who she was trying to forget about.
“Yes,” Lance said with a grin, catching her with swift fingers again and pulling her in for a harder kiss than her tease of a graze. That was what he’d come here for. Now he just had to hope she didn’t kill him.
It was a bruising kiss, the kind that got her blood going and pushed her doubts aside. Her mind was foggy, but she knew this felt good, being wanted by someone. Her fingers slid up into his hair as she kissed him back, eyes falling shut. This could be so easy, if she’d let it be.
It was easy to forget about the fang parts when the kissing was intense again and while her hands traveled up, his dropped lower, down along her backside before lifting her up, just slightly to get her closer.
She gasped softly as he lifted her, bringing one leg up to wrap over his hip. The world seemed to be spinning, but it didn’t matter because all she could do was feel. Each touch sent a shiver down her spine, aching for more.
Lance broke off the kiss as he lifted her up properly. “Where?” he asked, needing somewhere to take them. Somewhere that wasn’t right here in the middle of things.
“I don’t care,” she said, wrapping her leg up over his other hip. They were in the middle of town, in an empty building that would someday be her club. Nothing seemed close enough.
Without much in the way of options, Lance lifted her up more, then started towards a table, which honestly didn’t look much in the way of sturdy, but it was better than being on floor for the instant. He set her down on it, already leaning over her and pushing her shirt up.
The table was nothing in the way of sturdy, there only to set things on while building out the rest of the club. But it was better than nothing and Zania didn’t complain, hoping that it would hold. She lifted her arms, helping him with the shirt by pulling it over her head, then tossing it aside. There was a brief moment where she thought the room was cold, but then she pulled him back against her, warm again.
This was much easier to get back on track with, especially with her shirt gone and that lacy black bra catching his attention. He was already pulling at the straps, ducking his head to kiss down her neck and her collarbone.
Zania tilted her chin up, exposing more of her neck to him as she ground her hips against his. She was trying not to come across as desperate, but it had been years and the alcohol had her inhibitions lowered completely. She reached between them, unfastening his jeans, wanting to hurry things along. It was so hard to wait, but it felt so good in the meantime.
He could feel her hands there, letting her hurry as he pulled more at her bra, dropping it lower then going for her shorts. He undid those as well, stepping back enough only to pull them away and toss them aside. If she was going for it? He was definitely going for it.
There was a little voice in the back of her mind that was screaming this was a bad idea, but Zania had decided not to listen to it tonight. Maybe Lance was right and she just needed some release. If that was the case, then she was going to get it, in for a penny, in for a pound. She leaned back, letting him pull her shorts off, then pulled him back to her as his pants dropped to the floor.
He went with it, hands curving around her hips and into the waistband of her underwear and he pulled her flush against him. He went with kissing her again, not caring about the fangs, because there were far better things to focus on at the current moment.
She’d forgotten about her fangs entirely, what she was no longer coming into play, except for that tiny urge to bite him. She wouldn’t, but it did make her wonder how it would be if she did. Amazing for both of them, most likely, but she hadn’t exactly explained what she was to him and there was a possibility that he might freak. Instead she focused on what he was doing to her, how good his hands felt on her backside, his mouth on hers. It wasn’t perfect, but it was better than nothing, and that was what mattered, wasn’t it?
Lance wasn’t even remotely close to focusing on what it wasn’t. He was well into what it was, his attention caught up in losing the last bit of clothing between them, leaving his around his ankles and hers on the floor somewhere. He brought her back against him, kissing her again, waiting that half a breath before pushing forward, giving her the chance to stop.
She should’ve told him to stop ten minutes ago, but it felt too good to ruin it, especially when she had no good reason why she shouldn’t. Zania wrapped her body around his, feeling that moment just before they came together and wondering how she’d gotten there just before she pressed forward, determined to forget about it. Then nothing else mattered, her head falling back as she moaned.
Lance let out his own groan, enjoying that feeling no matter how often or how varied his partners were. Her noise though, that was definitely a start and in the interest in getting more, he started moving them, steady rhythm, sure in what he was doing. She needed to feel something and he wanted to enjoy it. Even the haze of liquor wasn’t ruining this for him.
Once he got started, she was able to forget entirely, her hips rocking against his as she kissed him. The slight hint of blood on his lips made the experience even better, though she couldn’t even focus enough to kiss him continuously. Her nails raked up his back as she gasped for air, her legs tightening around him with each thrust. This was just what she needed; damn the consequences.
Lance was able to keep a level head as he worked, knowing she had far more pent up frustration than he did, and he could tell from the way she worked against him. It didn’t stop him though, giving him more and more reason to keep going, working towards getting her there.
Zania whined softly, desperately clinging to him as he brought her closer to the edge. It was all happening so fast, or at least in her head it was, but she had no room to complain. She felt amazing, her mind a blank slate with nothing to focus on except the pleasure Lance was giving her. At the rate he was going, it was only a matter of time before he brought her to her peak and she was enjoying every second of the ride.
He could tell a good sound when he heard it and it just spurred him on more. She might have been rushing at that edge, but Lance was in more control and he jumped into working harder to get her there.
Whatever he was doing, it was working. Zania didn’t even try to hold back, her body shuddering against him as she came, nails digging into his shoulders. She cried out, continuing to hold tight to him as it washed over her. If she could stay in that moment, she would. It was perfect.
The spark of pain for her nails in his skin pulled Lance down with her as he let out a loud gasp, shuddering and slowing until it passed. He wound up propped up on one arm, hand flat against the table as he looked down at her with a grin, still trying to catch his breath.
She laid back on the table, breathing heavily as she looked up at the ceiling, then down towards him. He had a nice smile, she decided, one that made her smile back. “Enjoy yourself?” she asked teasingly as her foot slid along the back of his thigh. Her fangs were gone now and she was glad for it, almost hoping he’d forgotten they were there in the first place.
"Mmhmm," Lance hummed in assent. This was always fun and she had a spark that ramped it all up more. "Feel better?" When he leaned down to kiss her he noticed that the fangs were gone and it left him wondering just what he'd thought in the first place. Maybe he'd imagined it. Maybe it didn't matter.
“Yeah,” she laughed softly, placing a hand on either side of his face as he kissed her. She didn’t know how she’d feel about it later, but right now she felt amazing. And still very drunk. “I guess you were right. I just needed… just needed a release.” That’s what he’d said, right?
"See? Told you." He leaned more into the kiss drawing it out before untangling himself from her. "You did. And you were lovely." Compliments where they were due and Lance had learned that people liked to hear them.
She wanted to draw him to her, to snuggle up against him, though she realized a table wasn’t exactly a place for snuggling and so she released him. “Mmm, thank you,” Zania said, her legs dropping to hang off the sides of the table. “You were too.” Her clothes were everywhere, but she felt too lethargic to move, something she needed to do rather soon.
Lance just grinned as he fixed his pants and underwear, handing over the first of her clothes that were in reach. "You should come find me if you find the frustration gets to be too much. I'd enjoy that again." He righted his shirt and ran a hand through his hair, calming the curls as best he could.
Zania supposed she should be flattered, but she wasn’t sure she was. She’d enjoyed herself, and she was glad he had too, but something about it felt off. She quieted her mind by pulling her shirt over her head, then slid off the table to step into her underwear. “And where would I find you if I wanted to?” she asked, looking over at him with a smile.
Lance stopped and watched her, head tilted to the side. She really was cute. "I'm usually around. I live with my cousin Kenzie on Strawberry Shortcake Road or whatever." He smiled at her again. "I'm not hard to find if you're looking for me." He'd make himself available for her.
“Sounds good,” she said, pulling her shorts on and stepping into her shoes. She was wobbling a little her balance still a bit off, but she put her hand on the table to keep from falling. When she was done, she looked up at him, not sure what to say now. This was weird. Did she kiss him goodbye? Hug him? She wasn’t going to shake his hand. “I’ll see you around, then,” she said, her hands sliding into her back pockets.
This was why people snuck out at night after the other person had fallen asleep. It was always awkward. Lance was used to it though, leaning in to kiss her goodbye. "I'll look forward to hearing from you then," he said before wandering back a step, making sure his path to the door gave him a chance to swipe the last of the moonshine before he left.
Zania closed her eyes as he kissed her, wanting to hold onto that feeling of being wanted. She smiled as he stepped back, laughing softly as he sidestepped to pick up the jar of moonshine. There was more where that came from, so she was willing to let him have it. As he disappeared out the door, she was left there in the dark, alone, wondering how long the feeling would last. Hopefully she wouldn’t regret it.