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They stop at a motel. They get one room. For some reason, she thinks this means they'll have two beds. But this isn't your mom's grocery store romance novel. There is one bed with an oily cover that he flings back with disdain before throwing himself down on the sheets, his suit still on. She falls asleep clutching the edge of the bed. She's not sure why, but she does.
The next night, she barely holds the edge of the mattress. He still wears the suit.
Day three, he takes off his suit jacket before sitting down on the edge of the bed.
"Your pants are gross," she mutters before pressing her face into the pillow.
Maybe he takes them off. Maybe he doesn't. He tucks the sheet courteously between their bodies.
He always tucks the sheet.
Part of her mind wonders if he isn't interested. The other part tells that part of her mind to shut up.
They drive on.
Five days out, they stop mid-day rather than in the evening. The motel has a pool. She goes into it and floats. Lets the tepid water try to take her cares away.
When she comes back to the room, there is a paper bag with a cheeseburger and fries sitting on the bed. She dives into it, ignores the sound of the shower in the adjoining room.
"Hey," he says as he steps out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around his hips. She bites into a cold fry, squints at the semi-shuttered window to avoid looking at his body.
"Guess the fries are okay cold, then," he mutters.
"Stop staring at me," he says a few days later.
"I'm not," she snarls snottily, her stomach feeling guilty as she lies.
"Stop staring at me," she snaps.
"I can't," he replies.
"What do you mean?"
"I can't."
There was only a room with a "big" bed available tonight at this motel. She lays at the edge of one side, waiting for Seth to join her. She falls asleep before he does. She wakes up with her ass pressed into his hips, his erection against her ass, his hand in hers. She disengages gently, scoots away, falls back asleep.
The first time he kisses her, she feels like she should be surprised. Instead, it feels like a homecoming. She softens her lips and leans into him. He pulls back after a moment and stares at her like he's never seen her before. He licks his lower lip and she wants to lean in and lick it herself but instead she smiles tightly and turns away.
Eventually they give up on trying to get rooms with two beds. She becomes used to waking up to his hips against her ass. They never mention it.
He sends her into a convenience store to get sodas. She reappears ten minutes later with a plastic bag hanging from her arm, a popsicle in her other hand, and red plastic sunglasses in the shape of hearts on her face. She hurries over to the car in the desert heat, hopping in with an enthusiastic bounce that makes him feel old and irritated.
"What is this?" he asks as she settles into her seat and begins to suck at her popsicle.
She turns to stare at him, big eyes wide, brows raised, her lips already stained bright red. "What?" she asks.
"This some kind of Lolita fantasy?" he asks, twisting the top off his soda more violently than merited.
"I wasn't allowed to read that book," she tells him before licking along the popsicle to catch the melting juice. "Is it good?"
"Christ," he swears, turning the car over and gunning it back out onto the highway.
At a hole-in-the-wall diner, a middle aged man wearing biker leather pinches her ass and gives Seth a wide leering smile.
Seth punches his teeth in.
"You really don't need to punch every gross weirdo that makes a pass at me," she says as she helps him bandage his split knuckles.
"I think you meant, 'thank you for defending my honor, Seth'."
"No," she says with a tiny shake of her head, "I said what I meant. Don't let that get infected or we'll have to amputate and give you a hook-hand."
"Might as well," he mutters before drinking straight out of the bottle of vodka they'd used as antiseptic.
They drive aimlessly, sometimes spending a few days in one place, but never really settling anywhere longer than it takes to catch your breath. If there is a pool, she always takes a dip. It becomes a ritual, a sort of spiritual cleansing.
She comes out of the water at one of the many sleazy motels to find him sitting in one of the metal and plastic chairs beneath the faded and tattered beach umbrella, his elbows braced on his knees. She pretends to not notice that he watches her from the shade, tipping her heading to one side to wring out her hair before stepping up the shallow steps and out of the water.
"Hey," she says in greeting, coming to stand before him. "What's up?"
"Just thought I could use some sun," he says, squinting up at her in that particular way he does.
"Really?" she scoffs, putting her hands on her hips.
"Nah, not really," he agrees with a shake of his head, the corner of his mouth quirking into a smile.
"I didn't think so," she replies.
He shrugs one shoulder, glances around at the silent pool and parking lot. "No towel?"
"Nope."
"You gonna swim some more?"
"Nope."
They stare at each other for a long moment before she begins to laugh.
"What's so funny?" he demands.
"Nothing," she giggles, taking a step closer, her knees bumping into his as she leans down to kiss him.
His hands go to her waist, pulling her closer, and she sits down abruptly in his lap.
"Much better," he says with a lazy smile before kissing her again.
She lets her eyes flutter closed, drapes her arm over his shoulder and around his neck as they continue to kiss. When she feels his hand on her breast, she starts slightly, opening her eyes.
"Sorry," he says even though he doesn't look particularly apologetic, his hand still on her bikini top, his fingers beneath the fabric on her bare skin.
"No, it's okay. I kinda like it," she replies.
"Good," he says, his hand moving more boldly now, pushing one of the cups aside to rest his hand fully on her skin, his thumb and forefinger playing with her nipple. He nips at her lower lip and smiles against her mouth when she makes a soft gasping noise. "Did you let those choir boys touch you like this?" he asks, his voice gone low and raspy.
She swallows and still can't find her voice, so she merely shakes her head.
"Good," he replies before kissing her again.
She closes her eyes and kisses him back.
He comes back just as the sun is beginning to set one evening, a big grin plastered to his face. She looks up from where she's laying on the bed watching TV to stare at him when he throws the door open.
"Get dressed," he says, kicking the door shut behind himself. "I'm taking you out to dinner."
"Why?" she asks suspiciously, pressing the mute button on the remote.
Instead of answering, he throws something onto the bed beside her. She shifts, reaching out a hand to touch the pile of bills. "Did you steal it?" she asks without thinking.
He scoffs, rolls his eyes, and she realizes he's a little drunk. "No. I mean, not technically." When she continues to stare at him he looks away, shrugs, takes off his tie. "Card counting is considered cheating, not stealing," he mutters.
"Seth!" she protests, scandalized. She's made a point to not ask how they've been financing their run from...the law or vampires or whatever.
"Seth!" he mimics her in a high-pitched voice. "C'mon, princess," he tells her, grabbing her bare foot and shaking it slightly. "I'm gonna take you out to the best place this shithole town has to offer. Unless it's at the casino, because I don't think I'm welcome back there."
She kicks out sulkily at him, rolling over onto the money as she squirms away. "I'm not hungry," she says.
"Don't be a brat, Kate," he says, leaning over her, one hand braced on the mattress. "You knew where the money was coming from."
"I didn't want to think about it," she mutters, staring fixedly at the button of his shirt he has undone at the throat.
"I know, baby, I know," he says with a smile, his hand sliding up her bare legs to toy with the edge of her cut-off shorts. "You gonna get dressed?"
She jerks her eyes up to his to mutely shake her head, her mouth set in a hard line or maybe a pout.
"Don't be like that," he says cajolingly, leaning closer in.
"I'm not hungry," she says again.
"Too bad. I am."
"Then go by yourself."
"I want to go with you."
"Too bad," she snaps, her lips twisting. Now she knows she's pouting.
He smiles and laughs and she's not sure what's funny, but doesn't have time to ask as he gets even closer and kisses her.
"You're a thief," she mutters against his lips.
"Yeah, and...?"
"Shut up and kiss me."
"Of course, your majesty." The weight of his body presses into her as he kisses her first on the lips, then along her throat and neck. He nips at her and she shudders. His hands are already under her clothes and she fists one hand in his shirtfront, dragging it out of the waistband of his suit pants. She gasps and moans when he pushes her tee-shirt up and pulls the cup of her bra down and sucks at her nipple.
"F-f-fuck," she swears before clasping one hand to her mouth. He laughs and she can feel the vibrations against her skin. She wants to tell him to suck at her again, but the words lay thick and tangled on her tongue. Luckily, he seems to read her mind, his mouth going back to one breast while he squeezes the other carefully, his fingers playing with her nipple. He moves his mouth to the other nipple and she makes this soft, startled sound, squirming her hips restlessly, her heels digging into the bed.
"Yeah," he says in this low voice, his eyes flicking up to hers. She pants a breath and squeezes her own eyes shut, his gaze unbearable.
"Take this off," he demands, pulling away from her to push at her tee-shirt.
She sits up, feeling slightly dazed. Her fingers fumble with the hem, pulling it awkwardly over her head.
"The bra too, Kate," he murmurs, licking his lower lip.
She hesitates, unsure if she feels comforted or scared by the hungry look in his eyes, but obeys, unbuckling her bra and letting it fall away. She feels naked and exposed, raising her hands to cover herself in the yellow glow of the bedside lamp and the dying sun.
"No." He clears his throat. "Please don't."
She hesitates before she lowers her hands, but closes her eyes.
"Kate, Kate, Katie. Look at me," he says and she forces her eyes open. "You're fucking beautiful," he says, leaning down to kiss her. And he means to leave it at that, to walk away, to demand she get dressed so he could take her to a fancy dinner and get crashingly drunk.
But she stares up at him in this soft way, her cheeks gently flushed, and reaches up to touch his face. "You're...you're beautiful too," she says
"Shut the fuck up," he says without heat.
She smiles and he can't help but kiss her again, his hands skimming down her slim body. He undoes the waistband of her shorts, jerks the zipper down.
"Seth?" she says, her voice catching a little.
"I just want to make you feel good," he says.
"Oh, okay," she says and he can feel her body relax and capitulate beneath his. He wants to tell her she's a fool to trust him, except he's not sure that's true anymore.
He steps back to pull her shorts off her body and her panties along with them. He's about to lean back down into her embrace when she bites her lip hard and opens her eyes.
"Would you take your shirt off?" she asks as politely as if she'd asked if he takes sugar in his coffee.
"Would I, princess? Sure. Just for you." He yanks the buttons from the holes violently enough to break a few, but that's a problem for Future Seth to deal with. His dick is hard, pressed up against his suit pants and he has to send it a mental note to calm the fuck down before he lowers himself back down between her legs.
"How do you feel about sex?" he asks her after he kisses her breathless.
"Uhm," she says. "I mean...are we...?"
"No, not today," he says with a laugh.
"Oh. Okay. Good. I mean..."
"It's fine, Kate. Just relax." His hand skates low along her stomach and she squirms. "Do you ever touch yourself?"
"I think it's a sin," she whispers.
"That's not what I asked."
"Yes."
"That's what I thought." He puts his hand between her leg and his fingers rub against her. She squirms again, unsure if it should feel good or not. "Fuck, you're wet," he says and he sounds excited.
"Is that good?" she asks.
"Yeah," he breathes. His fingers slide against her body, dragging moisture upward where he begins to rub her.
"Oh my God," she squeaks. Her hand reaches involuntarily downward, grabbing his wrist to hold it in place.
He laughs, low and dirty. "You like that?"
"Yeah. Yes. Oh, uhm, uhn."
"Good girl," he murmurs, pressing a kiss into the hipbone closest to him. "Do you ever make yourself come?" he asks as his fingers drag, slick and sticky, against her clit.
"Uhm, ah, yes?" she says.
"You sweet little church mouse," he says with a shake of his head. "Open your legs wider."
"What?" she asks.
"Do it."
She moves her legs fractionally wider apart, lets him push them further wider.
"Don't let anyone ever tell you this is a sin," he says.
She doesn't have time to ask what before his face is between her legs and his mouth is on her. She screams softly, grabbing at his hair as her hips raise themselves off the bed.
"Seth, oh my God, Seth. What are you...? No...yes...fuck...uh...ah...oh...oh...ohh!" She alternately squirms and holds her hips still as he continues to use his mouth and tongue against her. She can feel her orgasm building and she shifts restlessly. This only makes him put his tongue firmer against her. "Yes, just like that, oh my God, just like that, uhn...ah...Seth!" She squeezes her eyes shut hard as she comes against his face. He merely presses closer, licking at her until she wants to cry it feels so good. When her shudders have subsided, he leans up her body and kisses her. She can smell herself on his face.
"You hungry now?" he asks.
She bites her lip and nods. He smiles in return.
She turns nineteen. She means it to be without fanfare. But she tells Seth. He rubs his chin with the heel of his hand, smiles. She wants to ask why he's smiling like that but then his face is between her legs and all she can do is grab at his hair and gasp and swear and, finally, come.
Never say Seth Gecko didn't know what to do with his mouth.
"Did you see Jesus?" he asks.
She makes a face and shove his head back down.
Despite all the attention he gives her, he refuses to let her give him any of his own.
"I'm good. I'll hold out until you're twenty-one, princess," he always says before distracting her.
When she remembers to ask why, he just shrugs. "You need some life experience," he mutters cryptically.
She wakes up one morning as she has for the last several months to his morning wood pressing up against her ass. She ignores it and gets up, brushes her teeth, her hair, before returning to stare speculatively at the man who lays on the bed before her. He has taken to sleeping in boxer briefs and a tee-shirt. The shirt seems to taunt her, having ridden up as he's slept and exposing part of his six-pack abs. She wants to lick them. For a moment she feels guilty for the impulse before she crawls back into bed with him and pushes his tee-shirt up and puts her mouth against his ripped body. He makes an agreeable noise, one of his hands coming to tangle into her hair and press her face into his body, to even shove it a bit lower.
She pulls down the waistband of the boxer briefs he wears and recoils slightly as his half-aroused dick pops out. She stares at it for a moment. She's never seen one outside of anatomy textbooks and nothing would prepare her for this despite how many times she's felt it, erect, pressed up against her body.
"You just gonna look at it?" Seth mutters sleepily and she realizes he's been awake at least part of this time.
"I've...I've...uhm...."
"You can touch it," he says, voice still clogged with sleep. "It won't break."
She reaches out a hand, wrapping it around his dick. He makes a low noise in her throat and she jerks her hand away quickly. "I don't want to hurt you."
"Oh, God. You won't."
She runs her cupped hand up and down the shaft lightly several times before his hand comes down to cover hers, to guide it with the right pressure.
"Fuck, Kate," he swears, his lashes opening heavily, like it takes a lot of effort. He licks his lower lip and she leans down to kiss him as her hand continues to pump up and down on his cock.
"Jesus," he swears against her mouth.
"You shouldn't take the Lord's name in vain," she whispers.
"Shouldn't...uh...I?"
She shakes her head even as she keeps moving her hand.
"You're so...fuck...ing...sweet."
She frowns, hard. "I don't want to be sweet."
"It's okay," he assures her.
"No," she argues. "Is this sweet?" She leans down and puts the head of his dick in her mouth, sucking on it, her teeth clumsily scraping.
"Fuck, no that isn't fucking sweet. Jesus fucking Christ," he swears, his hands going into her hair. It takes everything he has to not press her down further on his dick. "Yes, Katie. Fuck."
She takes more of him into her mouth and he groans like someone has shot him, his hands flexing in her hair. She keeps going until she begins to choke and he wants to die.
"That's...uhn... fucking good."
She pulls back and stares up at him, spit on her chin. "Shouldn't I be able to put all of it in my mouth?" she asks sweetly.
"I'm gonna fucking die," he replies.
She's eating another popsicle, licking the melted liquid off her hands. He spends more time looking at her then looking at the road. He pulls over, yanks those stupid heart-shaped glasses off her face. She stares at him in surprise, the last of the popsicle still in her mouth.
"I want to fucking eat you," he snarls at her.
She looks scared for a moment, like after all these months he might suddenly sprout fangs, but then relaxes against the leather seats, her popsicle still in her mouth, her lips curved into a smug smile.
"Throw it away," he demands.
She shakes her head as she eats the last of the icy sugar off the stick.
"Goddamn you, Kate," he says in a low voice, turning the car over.
She wants to laugh, wants to revel in the power she has begun to realize she has over him. Instead, she reached over and puts a hand on his knee.
He looks over at her and smiles. "Yeah?"
"Aren't all teenagers in America meant to make-out in cars?" she asks in reply.
He turns the engine off and she climbs over the gearbox to straddle him. He doesn't point out that they aren't in the United States anymore.
"Did you make out in cars as a kid?" she asks.
"Nah," he says. "I didn't have the time. Or the car."
She leans in and kisses him. "Now you do."
He doesn't tell her that his teenaged self would laugh at his advanced aged of twenty-nine. Instead he just kisses her back. She rolls her hips against him and he groans into her mouth.
"God, I want to..." he mutters against her lips.
"But you won't," she says in a sing-song voice.
"No," he agrees. "Not until you're twenty-one."
"We might as well," she whispers as she rolls her hips against the bulge in his trousers.
"No," he replies with a smile.
"You and your fucking rules."
"Man has to have a code," he agrees before kissing her again.
It's been eighteen months or maybe two years that they've been traveling seemingly aimlessly when she makes the offer.
"I could help you, you know," is what she says outside a seedy card room.
"What?" he says like he's misheard her.
"I could help you. I don't know. Be a distraction?"
His upper lips curls into snarl eerily reminiscent of his brother. "No, Kate you can't."
"I can," she says firmly, staring coolly into his eyes.
His stern look collapses into a smile and he leans in to kiss her before pulling back. "You aren't meant for the con."
"I could do it," she insists.
"I never said you couldn't," he agrees. "Stay in the car. We might need a quick exit."
"Fuck you, Seth Gecko," she mutters.
He winks at her as he exits the vehicle, does up the first button of his suit jacket, and walks away from her.
She turns twenty-one. They've been on the run two and a half years. He takes her into the casino for once.
"Order whatever you want," he tells her even as his eyes course over the card tables.
"You do know the drinking age is, like, eighteen here, right?" she says before nervously ordering a martini.
"For me," Seth quickly says before flashing the bartender a charming smile. "It's her birthday. Strawberry daiquiri, extra shot? Thanks."
She takes a tentative drink when it arrives before slurping happily. "Thanks," she says when she finally releases the straw from her mouth.
"You don't need to thank me," he says dismissively as he takes a swallow of the martini and suppresses a grimace.
"Don't I?" she asks as she puts a hand on his knee, slides it upward along his inner thigh.
"You really don't."
"I want to," she says.
"Finish your drink," he snaps irritably.
She giggles and turns back to the frozen concoction.
"Let's go into the VIP lounge," he tells her once she's slurped up the last of her drink.
"Don't you want to play cards?" she asks.
"No," he lies.
"Liar," she singsongs even as she follows the push he gives her toward the double doors.
Inside, the music is too loud and the girls hired to dance too obvious. Kate claps her hands like a child in Disneyland, presses them to her mouth in delight, scandalized or otherwise.
"I got us a booth," Seth murmurs, his hand on her lower back, steering her through the gloom and fake fog.
"It smells weird in here," she whispers across the table.
"Get used to it," he says without thinking. He orders drinks, a beer for himself and a tequila sunrise for the lady.
"Not a sex on the beach?" she asks with a wag of her eyebrows when the drinks come.
"Don't be gross, Kate," he says, taking a long swallow of his beer.
"I feel funny. Good funny," she tells him a bit later. She scoots out of the booth to stand in front of the table, moving her body tentatively to the music.
"Christ," Seth mutters as he watches her.
He watches her for a long time, nursing his beer before he steps out of the booth, adjusts his suit jacket.
"Want to dance?" Kate asks, shifting closer to him.
"Yeah," he agrees without thinking, his hands moving over her body, helping her to move to the rhythm, to move against him. They dance like that, rubbing against each other for a long time, before he finally has to move away.
He collapses against the booth, watches as she flings her hair and shifts her hips. The bartender comes over to ask if they want more drinks and he waves him away.
"Are you okay?" she asks.
"I'm fine," he lies.
"Yeah?" she asks, closing her eyes for a moment before she gives him a slanted glance. "You still...want to...?"
"Fuck, Kate," he swears.
"Is that a yes or a no?
"Yes."
"Well then?" she asks with a toss of her hair and an arched eyebrow.
"Upstairs," he snarls.
"You could try to be romantic," she protests as he takes her hand and drags her toward the stairs to the room. He doesn't reply, merely hurries her up to their room, closing the door with a very final noise.
"This can stop now," he says like he's in pain.
She shakes her head. "No, I want you inside me. You promised."
"It's a sin," he protests.
"So is everything else we've been doing," she whispers, stepping up close to him and pressing a kiss to his mouth. "God wants this."
"Fuck, Kate," he mutters before his hands gather her against his body.
"Yes...Seth," she breathes and that's enough to tip him over the edge. He yanks her strapless dress down first from her breasts, then her hips, then her body, leaving her exposed before his gaze in merely her panties.
"Yes," he says in this low growl before he kisses her. They kiss awhile before he pulls back, shedding his suit coat, shirt, trousers, and underwear. He leans back in to kiss her and she can feel him hard against her thigh.
"Seth?" she says, her tone a bit worried.
"Not yet," he mutters as he moves lower along her body to finally rest between her thighs.
"Seth! Fuck..uhn," she swears.
He makes her come with his mouth before coming up her body to kiss her mouth.
"You're so goddamn sweet," he mutters against her lips.
"I...uhm...are you...?"
"Yes, princess," he says before he pulls back and rips the condom open, rolling it down on his dick.
She watches him from half-open eyes. "Will it hurt?"
"No," he says, unsure if he's lying or not even as he positions himself and thrusts shallowly into her body.
"Mmmm," she purrs, and he thrusts deeper.
"Kate, Kate, Katie," he says. "This might sting or burn for a second."
"It's okay," she whispers, her face against his shoulder. "I trust you."
"Fuck," he swears as he pushes his hips forward and takes her virginity. He thrusts again and again, looking into her eyes as her expression changes from discomfort to pleasure.
He comes inside her body, his jaw working, before he collapses against her.
They sleep naked together, limbs tangled together. In the morning, his phone rings. He answers it, voice clogged with sleep.
"Hello?"
"Hello, Seth. It's your brother."
He hangs up the phone and turns his head to look at the girl--no woman--sleeping beside him.
"Fuck," he says softly.
"Who was on the phone?" she asks groggily.
"Richie."
She pushes herself upright quickly. "Richie your brother Richie?"
"Yeah."
"Well..." she says after a moment. "Better sharpen some stakes."