Wicked Wednesday: Wandering Nail, Part 1, m/f, NSFW

Wicked Wednesday

Back doing Wicked Wednesday after an absence! M/F piece this week, not especially graphic, but you’ve been warned. Approx. 780 words. Part 1 of…probably 2.

Note, I was in Stockholm recently for a friend’s wedding. Hence the setting. The following, however, is not a true story. 😉

In the fresh Stockholm summer, they stumble from the party through the glass doors onto the deck, him catching her by the arm, both giggling as their wine just manages to avoid sloshing over their nice clothes. The faint evening chill surrounds them. Her brief, berating thought of ‘you’ve just met him’ is shouted down by the ‘but he’s sexy’, and she leans against his shoulder, and they sway towards the thick wooden railing, his hand resting on her hip.

She can’t look back at him, though she wants to see his sweet face again. They’ve been chatting animatedly for hours, but now, shyness flattens her, and all she can do is stare out over the sloping grass towards the inlet. The pines on the opposite shore are stark green, shooting straight up into the evening sky, pale blue, starting to fade.

Nature does not resemble a garden here, she thinks. The land that sits across from them is something you could get lost in, and die, if you didn’t have a guide.

It’s a weekend away, a party where she knows only two people. She’s grateful that it’s Sweden where English is almost guaranteed. Almost; there are some jokes that she misses, and she’s struck by the sudden sense of alienation when she’s the only one not laughing. But she didn’t expect anything less.

When she first saw him, sitting near two fellas with his wine glass, she’d thought him shy. His face was sweet and placid, and he was nodding, rather than joining in. Until she sidled up and started saying whatever came into her head. No, he wasn’t shy, but reserved, and very sweet. And God he was cute too.

She can’t think of nothing to say now, so instead giggles, “You saved my wine.” She waves the glass that didn’t spill in front of her, placing it on the thick wooden plank in front of them. She grips the wood, so glad it’s there to stop her from falling into him too much. She hears a muted clip of glass on wood as he places his own down, and he slides his hand over her other hip, his cheek coming to rest against her ear.

She swallows, eyes wandering from the pines to the grain of the wood near her hand. She sees the head of a nail poking out, just above the surface, one that wasn’t hammered in properly. What she’s really doing is try to gaze backwards without moving. The corner of her eye catches his the grey of his suit jacket, slightly too loose for his frame. She’s leaning back into folds of material and his leanness, not surrounded by his warmth, feeling it only where their bodies make contact.

“Maybe, but you’ve had more than enough.” His voice burs along her skin, the soft, sing-song tones of his accent making her smile.

She wriggles against him. “And you’re sober?”

“No. Not at all.”

And he kisses her cheek, careful and delicate. She sees the tips of his hair as he moves, as his lips press flat to her skin, and oh God she wants more.

She closes her eyes, and he kisses her again, this time on her jaw, a place guaranteed to make her sigh. Of course she does now, and one hand snakes behind her to find the top of his thigh, rubbing down it. She keeps hold of the railing, her eyes on the nail head.

He glides his hand up from her hip, upwards over the silken material of the top of her dress. She’s wearing nothing underneath but a pair of black knickers, so the silky cloth is all the separates his hand from her skin. Her ribs contract and swell as his hand passes over them, until it comes to cup her breast. He exhales as she stiffens, aware suddenly over how exposed they must be, the party-goers behind them treated to a full view of his hands all over her.

He squeezes her breast, a massaging grasp, and he speaks, reading her mind.

“No one will notice, if you’re still.” He rubs the tip of his nose along her jaw bone. “Will you stay still for me?”

Her finger finds the nail head on the wood in front of her, and she circles the edge of it. “Yes,” she breaths.

Another kiss, and he takes her nipple through the silk, and pinches it between his finger and thumb.

Part 2