Ryan and Lara

The night swirled in with licks of inky ebony, sunset laid to rest, trussed up in velvety black tentacles, swallowing away the blood red sky.

She slicked a matte scarlet lip-stain across her lips, tracing the seams like the tongue of a hungry lover. Closing her eyes briefly, a veil of black lashes fanned her cheeks, for a moment dulling away the bass reverberating through the bathroom walls.

He was here.

When she looked in the mirror she didn't see Lara anymore. Lara was back at home, sitting on the sofa with a mug of earl grey, ear trained on the baby monitor.

...

The thick heavy riff of a screaming guitar punctuated by persistent, relentless drumming matched the barrage of animalistic emotions almost flooring her. Gripping the edge of the sink she threw back her hair, teased into waves that rippled over her shoulders like a wild waterfall. The skintight pleather jeans swathed her limbs accentuating her rear, eliciting a nod of approval from a well inked woman leant against the wall, a cigarette clenched between her dark purple lips.

'Hes one lucky bastard.' She winked. 'Trina.'

'Lara.' She didnt hesitate nor give a false name. Tonight was all about new beginnings. Accepting who she was. Breaking free of the restrictive cocoon she'd had shrouding her for nearly thirty years.

'Cute name.' The elf like woman pushed away from the wall, posture assured, bolshy, even. In a ripped black tee emblazoned with the band logo, it was obvious why Trina was here. And why the ramshackle bar miles from anywhere was heaving, impregnated with hoards of rock music addicts, a tangle of adrenaline pumped bodies, thick black eyeliner and beer running like water.

'Don't look so nervous.' Trina squeezed her shoulder, offering soulful blue eyes that reminded Lara of a porcelain doll. Alien amongst all the ink. There was something magnetic about the woman, something comforting.

'My first time...this is my first time here. I was supposed to be meeting a friend.'

'Missing tonight is a fucking sin.' Trina took a drag of her cigarette, a froth of smoke billowing around her head like a cumulonimbus cloud. 'Crossbow are electric, there's something primal about them, don't ya think?'

The truth was, Lara had never seen them live before. She'd never been to a gig, never before experienced the intense sensory ambush, the bass line in her bones, drum beat feathering the length of her spine. She thought of herself as an armchair groupie, a silent supporter, a spotify connoisseur.

'I get lost, when I listen to them.' She closed her eyes again, and as if with some third eye, she could see Trina nodding.

'They're the greatest guys. Down to earth, hard working, real grafters.' Trina perched on the ledge of the sink, tapping ash from her cigarette onto the polished ceramic. 'Let's go grab a drink before we're fighting someone for a lick of booze.'

...

The air, a mixture of sweat, beer, whiskey and cow hide was an assault so heady that Lara breathed in the intoxicating blend pondering whether she might get high on the energy of the place. Ten foot speakers rang out Pantera and Berserker, Mastadon and a sprinkling of Bon Jovi. Four barmaids manned the bar with military precision, drinks spinning across the counter top without a drop spilled. Trina passed back a bottle of Bud. She could deal with that, and taking a long sip, the cool malted liquid wet her dry, nervous throat.

Maybe more anticipatory than nervous.

'Come on, follow me.' Trina threaded her way through the bar, Lara followed in her four inch red heels, an impulse buy just this morning.

Everything about this was impulsive.

Double saloon doors opened out into a lounge, great L shaped mahogany sofas lined the walls, a smattering of bar staff carried cables and power packs into the bar, a bearded blonde caressed Lara with a look of unadulterated lust. A fizzle of heat ignited in her gut, spreading its way like a forest fire through her veins.

Trina thumped her fist against a door marked 'Staff Only' in stencilled black lettering. When the door opened, Lara felt herself shrink back, numbness pouring through her bones like concrete. She'd never been star struck before, but now she understood where that term came from.

She was struck. Fastened to the spot as if she'd been nailed there.

Will Carter wrapped his arms around her new friend, mussing up Trina's dark purple mane. Then his eyes found Lara, his lips curling up in a grin that spread across his whole face.

'Holy shit. Lara Temple?'

'Uh.' Her voice cracked, mind devoid of any thought beyond the thumping of her adrenaline fuelled heart.

'It's about fucking time!' Carter wrapped his arms around Lara, calming her roaring heartbeat, for all of a millisecond. A brief passage of time where her eyes took a snapshot of the room behind him, and then the air seemed to have been extinguished from the space. A great exhale, an absence of anything but dark brown eyes, and that smile, broadening as virtual reality morphed into clarity.

She was here. His head floated, like some insane high, a drag on something priceless.

It was as if the fabric of all substance had been disrupted, Lara stepped into the room, Kent, the bass player grasped the beer bottle from her hand, swigging from the bottle and handing it back with a kiss to her cheek.

'So here we are.' Kent laughed, his voice far more deep and baritone than she'd imagined, curled up under a quilt at home, watching other people thrusting their arms in the air, entranced by Carters voice, enriched by the seamless, cohesive musicality of the band. And now she was here.

'I'm...'

'A little overwhelmed?' Ryan Lockwood stepped out from behind Stryker, lead guitarist, doing his Buddhist meditation, cascading blonde hair shimmering over his shoulders, as striking as his name suggested. But she wasn't here for Stryker.

She was here for Ryan.

He seemed to tower over her, this stoic, intimidatingly beautiful presence, eyes tangling with hers like she'd known them her whole life. She saw the lust brimming within him, with so much clarity that her body responded with tiny shards of unexpected need, clattering down around her and blurring away the rest of the room.

He didn't hug her, like the others had, Ryan Lockwood battled the urge to pounce on her like a predatory animal, starvation kicking him in the gut like someone had drop kicked him there. If she was hot in the images she'd shared with him, then technology and photographic leaps weren't enough to capture the dark haired siren in front of him.

'You look incredible.' His voice was hushed, as if spoken from his lungs, the very caverns of oxygen inside him.

'Whatever.' She laughed, there was a nervousness, a hunching of her shoulders, and the protectiveness that she watered inside him grew like a forest of towering strength. Closing the distance between them, he touched her for the first time. There wasn't a crackle of thunder, nor rainbows striking the skyline, bursting in glorious technicolor.

But he felt it. And her eyes told him that she did too.

Somewhere behind him, the rest of the group took this as their cue to leave. Trina wouldn't mind a moment alone with the boys. Lara was here for only one reason.

Ryan propped up her chin, one arm drawing her towards him. Her hand landed on his chest, the other travelled determinedly around his neck, resting in the downy hair at the nape. Her fingers weren't satisfied, the tips gently massaged the spot at the back of his head, better than any pre-show meditation. He responded, circling his fingertips over her waist, the other hand pulling her closer still.

'Ryan?' She whispered, voice caught in her parched throat. 'I think you're gonna have to stop that I...'

He chuckled, a gravelly sound that reminded her exactly why she was here. And who she was when he spoke to her, like it was the easiest thing in the world.

Her body moved against him, her petite form moulding his camo clad legs with hers. A ravenous shiver ratcheted through her, in response, he pinned her at the waist, hands wandering exploratively down her sides, brushing the sides of her breasts. With anyone else she'd have pulled away, shunning intimacy and all the baggage and disappointment it inevitably brought.

Anyone else but the man who never asked questions. Who never saw her situation as a dead end to their friendship.

He smelled of beer, an anticipative sheath of sweat, tangy and sweet, laced with alpha pheromones, a haze that powered the clenching of her thighs. And the salivating of her thirsty tongue.

His breathing was ragged. He could hear it, she could feel it in stereo, elevating her dangerously high blood pressure.

Charcoal eyes claimed hers, lips below them swollen, and needy.

Crashing her mouth to his, she didn't expect a movie kiss, what she got was so intense, so raw, so violent her knees weakened, requiring his strength, his arms around her to keep her upright. Their teeth clashed, tongues tangling, his erection solid and hot between them. She imagined sliding down onto him, the first time and maybe the last time she'd feel herself opening for him. Muscles holding him, memorising the length of him, bare flesh upon bare flesh.

Her fingernails lashed at his shirt, tugging at the hem.

'Five minutes.' The voice was unfamiliar, nasal, and coming from right outside the door.

But tonight was about letting go. And he was the perfect tonic.

'I need to taste you.' She sounded husky, and he drank in every ministration of her fingertips, trailing across his chest. He was under no illusion that this would last forever. She was just a fleeting wind in his crazy world, but nobody had ever looked at him the way Lara Temple was. Right now.

'We have five minutes.' He lifted a tendril of hair off her forehead, tenderly tucking it behind her ear.

She pushed him against the door, palms clutching handfuls of his shirt, and his eyes were orbs, riddled with desire, and wonder. And awe. And something mischievous.

'Let me taste you.' She murmured, lips peppering his stubbled cheeks, fingers tracing his beard. 'Let me take a little piece of you home.'

...

Rolling down his zipper, she heard the growl of a caged animal, fingers clutching clumps of her hair, massaging her scalp. The wetness between her thighs felt like a flood, as her hand slipped beneath the elastic trim of his boxer shorts.

She mewled, feeling his ridges for the first time, eyes shuttered, lips parted.

'You're beautiful.' He uttered, and she looked up at him, biting down so hard on her lower lip, in an attempt to curb the pulsing of her pussy. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been called beautiful, and never that genuinely. She wasn't stupid though, she knew a man could utter a thousand sweet nothings if he knew there was something in it as a reward. But this was different on levels she couldn't understand, nor describe.

She tugged the cotton material down, inhaling as the length of him was revealed for the first time. A precious tear of precum lubricated the tip, and greedily, she gripped him with one hand, tasting the saltiness of him with the flat of her tongue. He groaned, the desperation of a man on the brink, and she drove his steel hard erection down her throat. There was no hesitation, just a lust that drove her core closer and closer to eruption.

Her gag reflex engaged, swallowing as it passed, she felt his fingertips tangle in her hair. When she looked up at him he knew what she was saying, this was a conversation between their aching bodies, and she wanted to feel him using her.

Taking him over the edge.

There was no power comparable to the way she felt as he pushed her head down on him, watching her expression, keeping her in control.

She moaned against his cock, a humming sensation that racked his body with uncontrollable tremors. He was salty, sweet, and burning hotter than the Sahara sun.

Her finger tips occupied his balls now, cupping his testicles, and venturing further, applying pressure to his perineum, a dull cry slipping from his lips.

'Fuck.' He husked, with angst. 'Fuck, Lara.'

She increased the suction, and as his cock slipped beyond her lips she drew him back in, the wetness, and the grip of her greedy lips making him see bright flashes of light stippling the room.

He hit her throat one last time before his balls clenched and his cock set off streaming ribbons of cum. His eyes never left hers, milking every drop of him and licking him clean.

'Have a good show, babe.' She murmured, capturing his ear lobe in a nibble, before sidestepping him, and heading back into the club.

...