We Were Blue // Completed

9//

"The devil doesn't come dressed in a red cape and pointy horns. He comes as everything you've ever wished for."

-Tucker Max

* * *

His irises are dark, darker then chocolate, but lighter then an all consuming black, but something tells me these eyes would have no problem consuming someone. His plush lips perk up in a mysterious smile as he pushes a strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers ever so softly brush against my skin as his pupils glitter with mischief.

I reach up, and trace my fingers down his jawbone, feeling the muscle twitch under my touch. A hint of darkness surrounds him, like the smoke remaining from a wild fire, warning of danger ahead. I smirk up at him, before pulling his body flush against mine, forcing him to wrap his arms around my waist.

Every vein in my body enlightens, like fire coming in contact with my skin. It's exhilarating, it's terrifying, and I want more. For once the high isn't from alcohol, it's from a different kind of drug, the kind with a dangerous smirk, and irises too dark to be filled with good intentions.

His height towers over me causing him to lean down to be eye-level. He gently cups my cheek in his large palm, caressing my cheekbone like I'm a dainty china doll. It's such a simple gesture, but somehow the most intimate touch I've felt in months.

My eyes drop to his lips shamelessly, as my body begs me to close the distance between the two of us. My body vibrates as I decide to give it exactly what it wants. Standing on my tippy toes, my lips connect with his warm soft ones, my eyes fluttering shut on command. The music fades into a gentle lullaby as I wrap my arms around his neck, and his slide down to my waist.

His lips move with mine in a soft dance, softer then I would have imagined, yet somehow laced with a certain roughness underneath. So gentle, but demanding in every way possible. It's exactly what I need, and there's a part of me that never wants to pull away.

He nibbles on my bottom lip, seeking an entrance and there's a gigantic part of me that wants to grant him just that, but I pull away instead. A smug smile slips on my lips as he groans in frustration, running a hand through his chocolate hair that curls toward his neck.

I intertwine my fingers with his, and pull him over to the bar. His eyes never leave my face, the gaze so intense, so different then what I'm used to, yet somehow incredibly compelling. I lean into his body, enjoying the way he swallows thickly as I push up against him. "What's you're name?" I wonder aloud.

He grips my hips, and breaths out slowly. "Juliãn," A thick Spanish accent dances in his syllables, the kind of accent that could have even the strongest willed girl begging on her knees for more. "And you lindísima?" I quirk up an eyebrow as we sit down on the cushioned stools.

I watch the bartender glide past us, and hand off a glass cup filled with dark liquid to a costumer. "Felicity," He hums in approval as a dimpled bartender finds his way over to us. His smile radiates, the type that's sure to get him amazing tips, before asking what we'll be having.

My heart pounds because my first instinct is to ask for a beer, or tequila, or a margarita, basically anything with alcohol, but I know I can't do that. "Water," I settle on instead, cautiously aware of the curious gaze Julian has pointed at me the whole time. I ignore him, and grin at the man before me. The dimpled boy chuckles lightly and turns his attention to Julian, cocking an eyebrow in question.

"Jack Daniels, please," My heart melts a little, because a man with manners is a hell of a lot more attractive then one without. The bartender nods once, before striding away. "Not much of a drinker?" I almost laugh at the irony as our drinks are set down before us.