Ocean Blue

It's dark, smells like beer, the floor is sticky. I only just got here, but I'm regretting the decision. My two friends are sitting in a corner judging the drunk people. I get closer to them so I can hear their bantering. A piece of my long hair catches on someone's shirt as I closely pass by. I look back to see the stranger and recognize him as a friend of the people who live here.

I frown. There's never anyone new or interesting at their parties. I resign to the roasting. We notice a girl we know making out with one of the female residents, while her boyfriend gasps across the room. It's entirely fake, the two are drunk, and the boyfriend isn't weirded out in the slightest. We've seen this kind of demonstration before. I feel the kind of bitterness that comes from being forced to watch a re-run of a sub-par episode of a soap-opera. I stare into the cluttered scene of the kitchen and living room. I look past the kissing, past the regrettable tattoo choices, past the beer pong, until my eyes settle on the empty couch on the other side of the room. Now is my chance to put some distance between myself and the fridge full of alcohol.

I go quickly, almost halfway there when I look back at my friends to signal them to follow. I look back for a second and make eye contact, and when I look back around I see someone taking the couch. It's too late to turn back now, it's obvious where I was going. I don't want to be antisocial exactly, either. So we make eye contact when I walk over and sit down. His disinterested stare moves from me back to some girl coming in from the porch. Well, I tried. Kate and Eva follow over and manage to split a cushion and an armrest.

Their conversation continues uninterrupted, though they now make a formal assessment of the skill of the beer pong players. We return to laughing away at whoever is catching our eyes and making a scene.

Multiple snide comments later, he's still sitting there. He smooths his blonde hair back and glances sideways at me. I feel him looking and catch him in it. My mouth twitches up with satisfaction. He has to acknowledge my presence now.

"You're a little bit judgemental, don't you think?" He directs at Kate. Oh. Maybe he doesn't have to acknowledge me at all. I put my third drink down.

"You know, I think that's judgemental of you to say," I remark as our rebuttal. His intense stare becomes surprised as he finally directs it at me.

Having succeeded in catching him off guard, and I stand up to get another drink. I make my way back to the fridge to remedy my lack of bourbon. At this point in the night, I'm having fun regardless of the circumstance. I return to the couch and he's gotten up. Kate and Eva are following him to the porch in the back of the house to smoke a joint.

The joint turns out to be cigarettes, do people still smoke those? It turns out he's some kind of actor. He's entirely pretentious and seems to exist on a different plane. He's arrogant and tall, with great cheekbones. His name is Matt, maybe short for Matthew, but probably not. As just-Matt spews some big plan he has to be an amazing performer I notice that Kate and Eva are actually listening intently.

I zone out, making fun of him in my head at the absurd things he says. I exchange glances with Eva every time we hear a buzz word. "Raw" "Organic" "Intrusive" "Accessible" he spews forth the lines of his inner monologue and they seem... Shallow.

Halfway burnt through his cigarette he holds it out in front of my mouth. Matt's eyes flit up to meet mine. I close my full lips around the cigarette, looking obstinately into his eyes. He's surprised, and it confirms my suspicion that he has pegged me as someone who enjoys being contrary. I don't smoke. However, I do when I'm drunk, and I definitely do when I'm being tested.

I learned quickly that he was someone looking for constant approval, and trying desperately to appear independent. He hated it when I made fun of him, and I hated that I couldn't understand why he was so attractive to me. Not just his long curly dark hair, or his tanned skin, but his attitude. I knew that he was deeply flawed and yet for some reason, I wanted to be on his level.

After that night on the back porch, I haven't seen him in a month. I don't remember him much, or particularly note the memory as being substantial. I'm writing in a Second Cup and it hits me like a ton of bricks when a tall figure sits down across from me.

"I remember you," a deep voice says. I look up from my notebook, and I'm startled. In the daylight, I look into his eyes and notice them for the first time; They're an ocean blue, bright and richly coloured with a dark limbal ring.

"Hello, Matt," I say, in the fake friendly way I muster after having just been interrupted during my much-needed poetry time.

"I don't think I ever caught your name."

"It's Parker."

"What's that?" He gestures to my notebook. He begins to reach forward to grab it. The notebook full of embarrassing poetry that I hope no one on Earth will ever have the displeasure of reading. I grab it off the table and hold it close, out of his reach.

"It's some writing that I do for fun." He raises an eyebrow,

"Wow, what do you write?" He's being really fucking nosy now. Instead of bluntly telling him to go away like I should have, I humour him for a while until he simply says

"So, what's your worst fear?" I have to stifle a laugh because it is just too much to hear given who he is, and where we are.

"I don't think you actually think I'm going to answer that in a coffee shop, I don't even know you." My rebuttal is challenging and firm, I hope.

"I think you just did. Your worst fear is opening up. At that party, you hated every word I said that came from my heart. Don't think I didn't notice you making fun of me with your little friend. It's actually just a little sad that you won't allow yourself to be real with me, this being our second date now." With that, he takes the last mouthful of his coffee.

"What the fuck do you mean our second date, you're a fucking lunatic," my face feels hot.

"You don't know me, and I don't think I'd like to know you." He takes that swing well, and gets up and leaves. I exhale. I try to resume writing but it's hopeless now, the calm mood is ruined.

I resign to slumping over my notepad for another half hour. It doesn't go well, the visions of the party run rampant in my head. My mouth tastes like cigarettes again. I check my phone and see a message request. It's just-Matt.

I know who you are, and who you're trying to be. Call me. He puts down his number below. Well, that's enough of that. I gather my things to leave.

I think about the encounter all day, in my life I've never had such a strange conversation. He made me so mad, not just by the things that he said but as well as everything he implied. He would sip his coffee and spill it, and it would look like he meant for it to happen. It pissed me off more than anything how warm the sensation in my wrists was. Adding to the fury was the fact that I couldn't actually stop thinking about him and his stupid gorgeous eyes. Before I know what I'm doing the dial tone is in my ear and he picks up.

"Hey, Parker." Well, at least he doesn't seem to give his number out that often.

I hang up.

Fuck! An hour later, my phone rings, once, twice, on the third time instead of hitting the ignore button I pick up.

"Hello?"

"Hi, it's Matt. You called earlier and hung up?" Yikes. Yeah, that actually happened. I did that.

"Yeah, this is Parker."

"Well Parker, that was really mature of you" I practically hear him roll his eyes on the other end.

"What were you doing today," I ask innocently.

"Well, I was getting coffee, and then I saw a girl who I remember saying some very rude things to me at a party a month ago. So I went over to her to give her a piece of my mind. She seemed very serene though, so I tried to make pleasant conversation, and then again she started being an ass."

I interrupt him quickly to defend myself,

"I was in the middle of writing poetry, and you ruined it!"

"Oh, so it's not writing."

"Of course it's writing" I scoff.

"Well no, it's poetry. That's different. Look, I just finished a class, do you want to hang out?"

I hesitate for a moment before I say yeah, and end up giving the address to my apartment. I hang up and begin to pace in the hallway from my room the kitchen, wondering if that too was a mistake. It's not even fifteen minutes of pacing before there's a knock on my door. I'm standing next to it, so I wait exactly 8 seconds to answer. I feel the need to appear as if I'm in the middle of doing something. I open the door.

"Hey," he says, a bit cautiously.

I just gesture coolly to the inside. He steps in from the cement porch. I wander into my living room and tuck my feet up with me on the couch. He sits down on the same couch, too close. I don't angle my body toward him, I sneak a look at him, and get a glimpse of his blonde curls, their halo in the sun. My lips part and I look away quickly. He's checking out the room.

"Nice place you've got here." He smiles softly at me.

"Thanks, I'm not actually the decorator though, that would be Eva."

"Oh, my mistake. You don't happen to have her number? Actually, I'll just wait for her to get home." He smirks at me.

What a jerk.

"Well, you'll have to wait with me then, because she won't be out of class for a bit." Her evening courses are sometimes nice. It means having lots of time to myself.

"What are we going to do while we wait?"

"Are you thirsty?" I say suggestively. My tone shocks me, and Matt apparently, he blinks at me. I jump up and head to the kitchen, calling out to him

"Water?"

I bend into the fridge for the jug,

"No, thanks..." he sounds awkward. When I close the door of the fridge I catch him staring and realize why. I glare at him.

I sit back down on the couch and stretch my long bare legs out, we launch into a debate over my favourite novel, Pride and Prejudice. He argues that Mr. Darcy is Prejudice, and Elizabeth is Pride. and I don't lack passion when it comes to this. He's completely incorrect. I'm noticing that he seems to like arguing. My mind drifts... I imagine pushing him, his mouth on mine, grabbing his beautiful locks, him pushing me back onto the couch. A pavilion in the rain.

"Parker..."

Hm?

"That's where you're wrong" he teases.

"Hm? Yeah, you're probably right, actually" I concede. I'm not willing to argue against something I didn't actually hear. I need to get the distracting images out of my head.

"I guess we'll never know."

I realize only now that he's gotten incredibly close, his thigh pressed against my thigh on the couch. Throughout our conversation, his hand wanders, small touches here and there, maybe by accident. He reaches into his back pocket to pull out his phone, as he does, he brushes my ass with his thumb. There's no mistaking that. Or maybe there is. I'm annoyed at him for making me wonder like this. I'm usually so clear headed. I look into his ocean blue eyes as he pulls out his phone. My stare is heated, I exhale to calm myself.

He wallops his phone to the other couch.

"What?" He's antagonistic in tone.

"Nothing."

He arches an eyebrow.

"Stop touching me" I gaze shyly up at him.

"I'm not touching you."

He's so annoying...

"Then it should be easy to stop." I expect I'm ruining everything but he grins at me suddenly,

"You don't want that."

"So you admit it."

"No."

"Yes," I insist. I feel accomplished.

"Yes? Good." He swiftly leans into me, and pulls me closer to his chest, his hand on my shoulder blade. He stops just an inch before my face and brushes our noses together. My eyes flit up to his intense glare. My mouth crashes onto his. It's a rough, heated kiss. His lips are softer than I could have imagined, and it's warm and wet when his tongue meets mine.

"Stop," I gasp, pushing against his chest. He pulls back,

"What's up?"

I look up at him, he's flushed and his lips look swollen. Then I look into his eyes, they're intense and concerned. Damn. I can't stop this, he's too much. I nibble on my lip bottom lip.

"Never mind." I concede a second time and lean into him.

While our mouths connect again, he pulls me onto his lap. His hands travel down my spine. Through the sheer fabric of my tank top, his fingers send a tremor down my body. I bite his bottom lip... he groans from the pain. The low, satin sound sends further sensations down my body, the heat begins to grow in my lower abdomen. He exacts his revenge by slapping my ass when his hand reaches the base of my spine.

"Oh!"

"I've been wanting that since I last saw you bend over."

I arch my eyebrow at him. Why does he have to be mean and attractive?

"Don't do that, it just makes me want to violate you further." My eyes widen, but I giggle, thinking he can't be serious.

"Now you're going to make me," he grips my hips hard, and starts an assault on my neck, biting and kissing his way to my collarbone. I pull away suddenly,

"You're going to have to catch me first!" I'm out of his lap and down the hall! The thrill of being chased crashes onto me, but I only make a small distance before I slide on the clean floor. He manages to grab me as I'm slipping. Clutching my arms together with his left hand, his right gripping my hip again.

"You're very bad at running away" he smirks. Why does he bring this childish streak out of me? Before I can escape again he pushes me against the wall. He traps me with his chest and slides his legs in between mine, pushing them apart.

"Now you'll have to ask politely when you want something..." I gasp at the feeling of being so restrained. The weight of his body on mine makes me melt into the wall, I can't resist as his hands lay siege to my body. He captures my mouth again takes me over completely. Oh, and his hands again, running up my sides from my hip, lifting and sliding under my shirt. They slip under my bra and grab my breasts, massaging gently at first and then roughly grabbing. His nails sink into my skin, I moan into his mouth at the surprise of the pain.

"Ohhh..."

"Good girl." I feel a flutter in my lower abdomen. I let the vibration of his words tremble through me. I pant and moan louder, I want to reach out to him but my arms are trapped against him. As if reading my mind, his hands move away from my sides. I reach up and tangle my hands his hair, my body bows into his.

Matt's fingers find his way to my hips again. They dive lower until he begins to caress me through my shorts. He moans into our kiss.

"Take me to your bed."

"Okay." He releases his hold on me, I grab his hand and lead him down the hall.

When he enters, he looks around briefly, his bright eyes resting on me. We sit down on the bed. His entire demeanour seems to have changed yet again. He looks softer. I lean over him now. I run my hands along his muscular shoulders, they wander up to his face and rest on his cheekbones as I pull him into another kiss.

"Hold on a moment," he pulls back and gets up. I look up at him, maybe he's going to leave. He's decided it's not worth it. He leaves the room, and I sigh.

He comes back in with his phone, places it on my desk and to my surprise, it starts to play something I recognize. "Need it" by Half Moon Run...

He whispers hoarsely,

"take your shirt off" and I do. I strip completely and approach him. He unzips his sweater and it crumples on the floor. I step forward and remove his shirt... and he stops me to remove his socks before ridding himself of his ripped jeans.

I step back and take in the sight of him, he's pale and peach coloured in places... I trace the lines of his rib cage with my fingertips. They fall down his torso to brush the dusting of hairs leading down his stomach. They're light, almost like his hair, but just highlight his beautiful physique more. My fingers trace his hip bone, and I hear him sigh.

"If you breathe in, then I breathe in And slowly let go"

He leans down and kisses me again, my hand softly closes around his cock. I look up at him, asking permission. He nods, and I drop to my knees and stroke him slowly. He touches my face and smooths my hair back, away from my shoulder. I wet my lips before leaning forward, closing my mouth around his head. He stares back into my eyes with need. I hear him moan softly as I continue sucking and stroking him. My tongue curls under a spot beneath his head, and his hand threads its way into my long hair, he tugs me playfully.

"oooh.." He breathes out, and I respond by moaning too, around his cock.

"If you need it, then I need it

And only we'll know"

"Please, can I feel you?"

I release him

"You are, though."

He tilts my head up and bends over to kiss me roughly. I stand, somehow, and it's only for a moment before I'm on the bed with him.

The song ends but his music continues. The thought crosses my mind that oh my, this is probably a playlist, and I'm probably not the first person he's fucked to it. I shake it off, as he's planting wet kisses down my chest. I close my hand around his cock and continue stroking him, this time more intensely.

His body covers mine now, and I guide him against me. He pushes his cock against my clit, back and forth, captivating my body. His mouth is near my ear, his breathing ragged and desperate.

"Please," I beg him to enter me.

"Yes, ask nicely, what do you want?"

"Please fuck me!"

I feel shocked at my own words, but before I finish my sentence his hips seek relief and he buries himself inside me. I cry out, I can feel his smile against my neck. His thrusts are strong and slow, I push my hips up to meet him and he groans. He hits a spot inside me that causes my hands to grab the sheets, pulling them into knots between my fingers. He smells so delicious, I feel a quiver in the back of my throat as I breathe him in, my mouth watering.

I nip at his neck, and he stills. He pulls away from me at sits back on his feet, his cock in hand. His eyes are pressed shut, he exhales deeply. When he opens, his eyes are dark like a storm. I smile inwardly at him needing a break from the throes of passion. He glares at me.

"Turn around Parker."

I feel an ache inside me when I hear his words, but still, my face turns hot. I get up on my knees and turn so my back faces him. I hope that he doesn't catch my look of embarrassment. He presses his chest to my face and resumes kissing me, focusing on my shoulder while his hand snakes around my waist, finding my sex. He tugs the small strip of pubic hair I have. I close my eyes, his hand finds my clit and he begins an assault again. My mouth drops open, I can feel the heat building more and more... I'm so close.

He removes his hand and pushes my chest down into the bed. My ass is in the air and he's directly behind it. I'm still in another world and feel no shame, only urgent pining for his touch. Matt breathes in sharply and is inside me again. He feels so much deeper this way, so filling. His breath is in my ear, his moaning and his panting overwhelming my senses just as his hand finds it's way around my body again. He circles my clit in time with his deep thrusts and my pleasure builds. I feel light headed. It washes over me, an intense heat as the muscles below my waist contract. My body shakes, I'm vaguely aware of his hands on my breasts, squeezing. I hear his moaning louder and louder in my ear as he pounds me, then thrusts deeply a few more times. I feel his hips still, but he drags his forehead across my shoulder, then softly plants kisses on my warm skin.

He rolls onto his side but keeps me against him, his softening cock still inside me. After a few minutes of his breathing and smiling and kisses, I get up and excuse myself. I grab his T-shirt off of the ground and put it on, heading into the bathroom. When I come back a minute later he's already fast asleep somehow. Fuck. I cross my arms, trying to make up my mind whether to kick him out or let him sleep. I look down at the T-shirt, "The Strokes." It could be worse, his taste in music could be shit. This placates my regret as I turn off the light and sneak into bed with him.