Cave Rave

[noonelaughed]

It seems like it's been forever since Chris has been to a real, proper blowout. There aren't exactly any clubs on the island for this sort of thing, and the last time Chris had any kind of party in his own hut, it'd taken him fuckin' ages to properly sort out the damage. As it was, he was still finding brownie crumbs and other people's coats when

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[pointzerothree]

It feels almost like everything has come full circle. Eduardo remembers all too well, even now, after a few drinks, the afternoon that he and Olive once spent curled together in a cave, saying everything they needed to before what they thought was going to be the end. The way he recalls it, it's how they first became close; even then, though, as an acquaintance of only two days, she'd still been the person he was closest to. That last part, now, is truer than ever after the events of the past week, and the mood couldn't be any more different than it was that day, and for both of those reasons (and also just because he can), it takes a serious effort on his part not to just kiss her in lieu of a response. (Also more difficult than it might otherwise be is keeping his gaze trained on her face and not her top and the way it fits, but he manages.)

"Yeah, I kind of noticed," he says with a laugh, tearing his eyes away from her to glance at his shirt, slightly damp from where water splashed on it. He can't bring himself to mind, especially not when she seems so happy. Looking up again, he steps a little closer, mostly just to be heard over the noise of the party, though he instinctively lifts a hand to her arm, resting against warm skin. "Guess that answers the question of if you're having fun."

[floozyfacade]

"There you are," Olive says warmly, "I was starting to think I lost you somewhere in the wild bacchanalia." She waves a hand, the other reaching to curl in his shirt, though she thinks better of it before she gets closer. He may not seem to mind that she's gone and splashed him, but he might if she gets him all wet. "It does, I am indeed, loads of fun." Even when she's probably as close to sober as almost anyone here is (and even then, she's tipping the scale toward tipsy, her cheeks hot with it), she has no trouble throwing herself into the prevailing devil-may-care attitude. It's one that appeals to her, really, and she finds herself incredibly pleased Chris decided to celebrate his birthday this way, not least because Eduardo's accompanied her (not on a date, exactly, since he's promised her a real one later, but she doesn't care what they call it so long as he's here, so long as it's with her).

[pointzerothree]

"You wouldn't lose me," Eduardo promises, all teasing, though there's a truth in the words he couldn't deny, "I'd find you." She's such a part of why he wants to be here in the first place that he couldn't not. He likes Chris and he's enjoying the party, is sure he has a couple of other friends here, but she's who he gravitates to, especially now. Smiling down at her, he leans in enough to press his lips to the corner of her mouth, staying close as he speaks again. This time, it has nothing to do with needing to be heard over the din of the party. "You look incredible, by the way."

[floozyfacade]

What Olive's learned in the last week is that, somehow, being with him actually makes her a little more clear-headed, if only in relation to him. That undercurrent of yearning has dissipated, the constant longing less conscious; she doesn't have to be aware of wanting him because she doesn't have to curb it anymore. Even so, the combination of alcohol and him is a heady one, heart thumping with the compliment as she turns her head toward him. "I look wet," she says, smiling, pleased in spite of her words. "Drowned dog. But thank you. So do you." He always does, but there's something about the way that neatly pressed appearance is starting to come apart that looks especially good on him.

[pointzerothree]

That's part of the appeal, Eduardo wants to say, that and how happy she looks for it and the slight flush of her cheeks. It's everything, the lace of her top and how beautiful she is normally, and he's convinced that he has to be about halfway to drunk to really be considering this. (All the way there, and he'd be saying it, but he tends to make a point of not letting go like that.) "No, this is just what I'd always wear," he says, self-deprecating but pleased. "I mean it, though. That shirt especially, it looks really great on you."

[floozyfacade]

Olive bites her lip on a grin, ducking her head a bit. Comfortable though everything's been, the transition from whatever they were to whatever they are, she's not used to that, or to finding herself somewhat flustered by compliments. "I thought it was, uh, appropriate for the occasion," she says, then laughs, a little self-conscious though not especially minding it. "Come on, if you're not getting in the water, then we're finding the drinks again." Instead of trying to wend her way through the crowd, though, she tips her head up so she can kiss him first.

[pointzerothree]

"I am all for finding the drinks again," Eduardo murmurs, but his mouth is against hers, and now that they're kissing, he doesn't much care to stop. His hand slides up her arm, fingers tracing a path over her shoulder and neck to her jaw, and he smiles, just a little, as much as he can without pulling away or making it awkward. The drinks aren't going anywhere. She might not be, either, but that doesn't make him any more inclined to let her kiss be too brief of one, especially not when it's already such a challenge to keep his hands in one place.

[floozyfacade]

That's unexpected, if only because of where they are, and Olive's head is already swimming from the heat and the crowd, but she's not about to protest. She just steps closer, not caring if she gets him wet or not now, fairly certain he doesn't care either. "Well, they aren't here," she says, and it's so far from being reason enough to pull away yet. It's comparatively early in the night; drinks can wait a little longer, kissing him feels like it can't, like she's making up for the last party they both went to and how much she wanted to do this then and couldn't. Those days are gone.

[pointzerothree]

"Yeah," Eduardo says, "I know." Knowing and caring are two incredibly different things, though, and right now, he can't bring himself to do the latter, especially when she doesn't seem to mind at all. She's the one who wanted this, he remembers, for far longer than he ever had any idea of; with that in mind, there doesn't seem to be any point in wasting the opportunity, even knowing that they'll have all night, and longer than that, too. His other hand moves to her waist, fingers splayed out over her ribs, mindless of her wet clothes. He'd rather have her close than be worried about the state of his own clothing. Water will dry, after all.

[floozyfacade]

At another time, in another place, Olive might be more self-conscious about this, but no one here cares, half the party's doing the same thing or dancing, pushing around them, and the music is pulsing and she's more aware of the idea that she should care than she is of actually caring. She presses into him, free hand settling at his neck as she steps unsteadily back, trying to urge him off to the sidelines without having to say anything. She doesn't want to stop yet, not if he doesn't want to, not when she feels so good right now. It's still so new, getting to kiss him, knowing he wants her, too, it's easy to get caught up in it.

[pointzerothree]

Eduardo doesn't need any more encouragement than that to follow along with her, too unwilling to put any distance between them to do otherwise. Anywhere she asked, he'd go, anyway, an instinct that doesn't require any thought, especially when she's pressed so close to him, her mouth against his and hand warm over his neck, as intoxicating as the atmosphere of the party itself. The rest of it, in the moment, doesn't matter, fading into the background as they move off towards the side, his hand slipping from her jaw up into her hair. He's felt it before, that there's nothing but the two of them, but never so viscerally as this, the physical turning it into something wholly different.

[floozyfacade]

Olive can't shake her awareness of the party so entirely, but she doesn't care either and she doubts anyone else does on a night like this, wouldn't care if they did, edging along until her back hits the wall and she laughs against his mouth, hands smoothing over his shoulders, his neck, his chest where his shirt is already open, just wanting the feel of him under her hands. He goes to her head as easily, as absolutely, as anything she has to drink, and if she had any doubts to begin with about just how far her feelings are reciprocated, they're gone now, when it's so clear he wants this just as much as she does. "You know what," she says, "screw the drinks," and she's not sure he can hear her over the music and the crowd, but that doesn't matter so much when the way she sucks at his lower lip probably makes it difficult to answer anyway.

[pointzerothree]

Eduardo couldn't have said it better himself, he's sure, and he would tell her as much, except then she's drawing his lower lip between both of hers and all that comes out instead is a low, throaty sound of encouragement. There's a part of him, still, aware that he should be hesitant, that they haven't - that she hasn't - done more than this; how eager she is, though, makes it difficult to want to hold back. (A week ago, and he doesn't know that any of this would even have occurred to him. Now, it's hard to think about anything else.) Hand pressing more insistently against the fabric of her shirt, just above the curve of her waist, he tips his head down towards hers, breathless and not caring. There will be time for that, and he doesn't want to be the one to pull away.

[floozyfacade]

I'm not going to pretend I haven't thought about this, because it would, it'd just be entirely disingenuous to say that. I, I have, I absolutely have, but again and again, what I'm figuring out with him is that imagining things and actually having them happen are not even close to being in the same ballpark. They're, like, different states maybe. Texas and California. I don't even know what I'm saying now.

What Olive does know, absolutely and with what feels like stunning clarity for the moment they're in, is that his hand is drifting higher. Without thinking, she arches into his touch, wanting more, wanting to tell him it's alright to keep going without having to use actual words for it or stop kissing him. It's only after she does that it occurs to her what she's doing (there are so many people and even with the music playing, she can't quite drown out all the voices, but she still can't bring herself to care the way she thinks she should. It's not like anyone will notice or care, no one but them, and that's all that matters anyway); it's not reason enough to try and take it back or to stop.

[pointzerothree]

He cannot, he cannot let himself get carried away. Somewhere in the back of his mind, through the haze of the drinks he's had and the wet top under his palm that's left his own shirt damp and clinging to his chest and the taste of her lips against his, Eduardo is completely aware of this. They haven't done anything more than kiss before, and really, he doesn't intend to do anything more now, both because she deserves better than that and because they're in public (and, okay, the second part is kind of a turn-on, but this is very, very public, however much he's stopped thinking about the people packed nearby). That doesn't stop him from wanting, though, not with the way she arches against him, drawing another sound from the back of his throat. His hand between them, he traces a line with his thumb against her ribcage, just below what would be an obvious destination. "Shit, Olive," he says on an exhale, words half-muffled with the way his teeth gently close on her lower lip. He wants to be sure but he doesn't want to stop kissing her; the latter mostly wins. "Can -"

[floozyfacade]

[Spoiler alert: yes, but he's still not getting laid tonight.]