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I only want him to stop staring because that’s what serious Morgan would want. Does fun Morgan want him to stop? Not really. I actually think it’s pretty hot he’s staring at me and not giving a crap. It makes my tits feel all kind of beautiful as well and I like the confidence it gives me.
My blonde god of thunder takes my silence as surrender as he stands up and walks around the picnic table to sit behind me. He has a leg on either side of the bench and pulls my body against his. He’s warm and comfortable, while touching him also creates a certain tension. It’s the pull, the attraction, that makes it exciting. Butterflies rush through my belly as I lean into him. I don’t know if it’s the atmosphere, which is very romantic, with it being dusk and having bonfires and fairy lights all around, or something else. Maybe it’s just New Morgan, having fun and letting myself feel it. I don’t really care to be honest and just give in to it.
“Bit of a dumb move,” I break the silence. “You can’t secretly stare at my boobs when you’re this close.”
“O sweet summer child,” he chuckles. “I’ve snagged myself the prime spot to look down your dress.”
I see him staring over my shoulder and looking down at my chest. As I follow his line of sight, I look straight in my dress. Fuck, he has a point, I can see the mounds of my boobs perfectly like this. Before I can look back up, his mouth gets pressed against the side of my neck, positively surprising me with it and I hold my head to the side, so he has better reach. I’m absolutely down for this. His lips gently caress my neck and I let out a sound that’s somewhere between a sigh and a moan. Crap, I need to remember I’m in public.
A couple tries to sit down at our table and Dean growls at them. I don’t know what it is with growling men, but the feral sound resonates between my legs and does things to me that make a part of me become equally feral. It must be something evolutionary, me responding to his inner cave-man. The couple that’s trying to sit down have a different reaction to the sound Dean makes though, and they get up and leave while giving us anxious looks.
“That was rude,” he says.
“Rude that they were trying to sit down in an empty spot in a busy area?”
“Nah, that’s understandable. It’s rude of them to interrupt me doing this.”
He then takes my chin in his hand and makes me face him. He ever so gently touches my face as he kisses me. The world around me disappears and it’s magic. I kiss him back and turn my body a little, so I don’t have to stretch my neck so far to be able to get better access to his plump lips. His tongue softly licks my bottom lip, and I open my mouth to let him enter, which he greedily does. He kisses me softly as our tongues stroke against each other. His hand is tangled in my hair as he holds my head, and our kiss intensifies. I reach my own hand back around my head and tangle my fingers in the knot of hair he has on the back of his head. I understand the appeal of a man with some hair to hold on to; it makes it very easy to make sure he keeps kissing me. It’s not like he really needs the incentive, but I’d like to make sure anyway.
Dean is an amazing kisser and my body heat is rising up quickly. His free hand is on my stomach, stroking up and down gently. His thumb reaches the bottom of my breast every time he strokes up and I want him to continue. I realize I’m aroused, which normally takes some more convincing for me. Arousal and sex and everything that comes along with the territory is something I’ve always thought is solely exclusive to relationships and love. But my own ban on love and hanging out with these boys have taught me there’s more shades of grey than I’ve always presumed. Dean kisses the side off my mouth as I bite his bottom lip and hear someone chuckle.
Looking up I see a table full of food and Meggy and the guys sitting down. Meggy has her chin on her hands as she leans on the table with her elbows and is staring at us with googly eyes.
“No laughing, Jonah,” Meggy scolds him. “Now you’ve distracted them. I liked this show.”
I feel my cheeks flush and reluctantly get myself out of Dean's embrace as I look at the table. Dean swings his leg over the side of the bench so he can face the table and snags a fry from one of the dishes. Jonah looks me straight in the eye and gives me a heated look.
I just don’t know what to do with that. Is he angry I kissed Dean because we’ve kissed before at Tempest? He doesn’t look angry. And he said he was down for whatever I wanted. Could it be he didn’t care that I kissed Dean but just liked what he saw? Jesus, this whole no love thing was turning out to be more complicated than relationships have ever been.
Meggy looks at Gil, who is sitting beside her and is drinking a beer and eating food. She looks like someone stole her cookie.
“They stopped, make them unstop please. I liked that show.”
“We’re right over here!” I squeak.
“Yes, but you can’t be trusted to have fun, little missy. If I leave this up to you, we’ll be having a fair wedding in about two hours and that’s way less fun to watch than this.”
While I don’t want to admit it, that would be exactly what old Morgan would do. She’d be trying to figure out what the chances of having a future with Dean would be. But that’s not what I’m doing. My whole body screams how I just want to kiss him some more, but now that we have an audience, I’ve lost my nerve. I pick up a bite of pork belly out of a container that says ‘Orc-Pork’ and stick it in my mouth while giving Meggy a foul look.
“I don’t make Dean or Morgs do anything,” Gil answers. “They have a mind of their own.”
“You make people do all sorts of stuff for a living,” my friend counters. “Get your Dom voice and make them kiss.”
Why doesn’t that sound wrong?
“I don’t tell people what to do for a living, Meggy. I run an establishment and create a safe environment for people to do their thing.”
“You’re ruining all the fun in my head,” she concludes before she stands up. “I’m going dancing.”
To my surprise I notice the band has indeed started a set on the stage. I’ve been so lost in kissing Dean that I haven’t even noticed them setting up and starting to play obnoxiously loud rock music.
“Eat,” Gil says while nudging his head to the food.
“So now you are telling people what to do?” O asks and Gil rolls his eyes.
“Just shut up, you muggle. You don’t get a say in anything until you come up with a good outfit.”
I try to mask my laugh by stuffing my face with falafel. At that moment, I’m perfectly happy. How lucky am I to be out having a fun day with people who I consider my friends, listening to music, and eating food? Yeah, there’s definitely been worse days than this one and I cherish every second of it.
