Would You Rather

8 - WYR: battle a Bart to the death or... well. You don't have a choice

hi mom. absolutely not.

for new wolves fans, that means this is adult content

FIDAN

Deal.

Oh my God.

I lean closer to her, "this just in: Fidan gives his worst ever pick up line and it works."

She snorts, "breaking! The pathetic note won me over."

We wander back toward her friends and bide our time, working through the popcorn. Her hand rests on my shoulder for a while, watching Wiley and Langley try to land the washer, not on the hook, but on each other's noses. I wrap my hand around her hip, waiting for them to decide it's time to wrap it up, not really paying attention to shit now, just the bubbling of tension between us.

"Would you rather..."She leans in close, lips brushing my ear. "Be nice to our friends or Irish goodbye?"

I swallow, turning my head to hers, eyes on her mouth, barely keeping myself from distraction, "Irish goodbye." The hairs on the back of my neck prick, her hand just out of the distance that I can feel, coming oh so close to my skin before settling on my shirt.

"Hm," she lifts her palm, pulling on the back of my hair, just a tug. It's too long, I know that, but she's raked her fingers through it enough for me to know that she likes it.

"Mel, Wiley," Finley calls to her friends, twirling around the hair at the nape of my neck, sending chills through my body. "Fiden and I are headed out. I have a super early shift tomorrow and need to get some sleep. You're good on rides, yes?"

The two of them give her a thumbs up. Wiley finally manages to land the washer on the tip of Langley's nose just a moment later which fully drowns out our goodbye with the shouts of four half-drunk guys leaping up and shoulder-bumping each other.

Melissa winks at Finley from the corner of my eye and as the guys settle back down again, this time lining Wiley up under the washer, they wave their pointer fingers in circles, spinning around like our goal light. I'm sure it would be accompanied by goal horn noises like it normally is if they weren't worried about ruining my already pretty bad pick-up skills.

I wrap my hand around Fin's waist, her warm skin against my fingertips. She's in a t-shirt, but that doesn't stop my hand from sliding up and under the lip.

"You have a coat?" I ask, leaning in close.

"Yeah, follow me."

As bars should in places as cold as Regina, Casey's has a pretty decent sized coat closet, or just lock-closet. When you close your tab, you get your key back.

I slip away from her, going to close my tab and grab my key, finding her again in the dark of the coat closet. She's wiggling at a lock and I sneak up on her, silent across the floor, the noise of the bar overpowering my feet. I wrap my hands around her waist again, like I did hours ago before ordering our lonkeros, except this time, I dip my nose into her neck.

"Can you wait three blocks?" She teases, squirming in my grasp, a laugh on her lips. The wiggling is moving her perfect ass against my groin and it's causing the boner that's been bothering me since the popcorn line some strife.

"Unsure."

"Then get sure." She pops open her locker, spinning to face me, hips moving under my hands. I take my chance, pushing her back against the metal, tentatively, then with more conviction when she throws her arms up over my shoulders, kissing me again.