InsaneJournal

Without a Burn
Early hours of December 25th, Cat Scratch Club, NYC

Warning: Adult content.



They ran into the night, holding hands, moving quickly but pausing every few minutes to kiss, or hug, or a grope, or for Roger to brush a lock of hair from her face.

They headed for their building, sidestepping the rioting on the street, but found it padlocked.

“Benny, that shit!” Roger swore. He looked up, feeling helpless.

Mimi echoed his sentiments, pulling at the door. It didn’t budge.

“Back to the café?” she suggested. Roger shrugged.

“Suppose,” he said, but he didn’t want to go back to people again. He wanted to kick down the door and drag Mimi to his room. She smiled.

“You don’t want to, do you?” she asked. He shook his head, laying a hand on her hip. She grinned, and kissed him, pushing him against the wall. He kissed back, pulling her close to him, hands sliding up and down, cupping all her curves…

God, he wanted her. Now. He pulled back with a groan, cursing Benny.

“Come on,” she said, taking his hand. “I know where we can go.” Roger didn’t care where it was, he wrapped his arms around her from behind and kissed her neck.

She led him to the Cat Scratch Club, dark and empty, closed early on Christmas Eve. He pronounced her a genius, as he kicked the back door shut behind her and pushed her against the wall.

When they next surfaced for air, she smiled. “Come on,” she said, leading him to a small, cluttered room. It was pitch black as they walked further into the club.

“The power is shut off, because it’s closed,” she explained. “But …”

She sped up, ducking into a room and rummaging in a drawer. He heard the sound of a match light, and knew instantly what was coming.

“A candle,” he said, grinning.

“Fitting,” she said, smiling back. “Come in.”

There was a lumpy mattress in the corner, and costumes strewn all around. Mimi handed him the candle. She shrugged off her coat, kicked off her boots, and reclined on the mattress, looking up at him.

Roger smiled as her eyes roamed over him. She sat up and took the candle from him and he slipped off his jacket. She lay back on the mattress, and watched. He pulled off his shoes, swallowing thickly as she played with the candle.

He sat nervously at the edge of the mattress, and looked at her. Her hair was splayed across the mattress. Even though there was no window in the room, he could see the moonlight. He blinked.

It had been a while. A year. Since—

The mattress shifted. She was crawling towards him. Wordlessly, she handed him the candle, and began to undress. His grip on the candle tightened as flesh was uncovered, slowly, deliberately. His throat felt very dry…

She was good at this.

“It’s practically what I do for a living, you know,” she whispered, as if she knew what he’d been thinking. He laughed, a short, hoarse laugh. She leaned closer, and he grabbed her, pulling her in for a kiss.

The candle went out. They didn’t care.

They took advantage of their free hands to undress each other fully, skin making contact with the cold air, goosepimpled and shivering slightly.

“You okay?” Roger asked, pulling back.

“I’m more than okay,” she said, panting. It was dark. He fumbled for the candle, and the matches. The flickering light brought a small bit of heat as well. She smiled up at him, eyes taking in every inch of him, as he did the same to her.

He leaned over, placing kisses along her stomach, resting his weight on his elbow, holding the candle while his other hand snaked down her side. As his lips found her breasts, the candle slipped and some wax fell on her stomach, and she hissed.

“Oh, God, I’m sorry,” he panted, lifting the candle up.

“It’s okay,” she said, huskily. “I told you, I like it.” He grinned wickedly as his free hand came to rest on her thigh.

“Between your…” he started, hand skimming across her leg…

“Fingers!” she cried, grabbing his other arm sharply, the movement extinguishing the candle again. He laughed, as his fingers caressed her, dropping the candle, not caring about the darkness.

“Oh, God,” she breathed, as his lips fluttered across her chest. He smiled against her, forgetting the cold, forgetting the darkness. Mimi was warm, and alive, and writhing beneath him, and he felt his mind tune everything else out.

She was all that mattered, right at that moment. The way she reacted to the slightest pressure of his fingertips, her nails digging into his arm, the sounds she was making. As she shuddered and cried out his name, the room seemed bright, and warm, and as he squeezed his eyes shut the rest of the world dissolved.

She pulled him up and kissed him fiercely, quickly releasing him with a sigh and letting her arms flop back down on the mattress, smiling, sated.

He took the opportunity to find the candle again, wanting to see as well as sense her happiness.

The candle had burnt down a bit now, and was melting messily, wax running down his fingers and falling onto her. She licked her lips, grabbing fistfuls of the sheet below her, arching her back, jumping slightly every time a drop landed on her.

Straddling her, he held the candle over her, allowing the wax to fall in a line down her chest, and she gasped. She grabbed his wrist, spun them around so she was on top.

She leaned over him to re-light the candle, and he ran his hands along her, reaching around to cup her ass.

She trailed wax over his stomach, smearing it with her fingers, following it with light kisses and nips, and he squeezed his eyes shut as she drifted lower, lower, lower…

He grabbed her hand. “Er,” he said, looking at the candle. She giggled.

“I won’t get wax anywhere too sensitive,” she promised, burrowing between his thighs, the heat of the candle prickling his skin. She held the candle in one hand, and took him in her other hand. She looked between the two, licked her lips, and blew out the candle.

He threw back his head as he felt her breath against him, and the candle hit the floor as her lips touched him. He was seeing stars, and could hear himself moaning, a muffled, far away sound.

It was amazing, too amazing, and he pulled her up reluctantly, kissing her frantically. She pulled back, rested her forehead against his. They sat in the dark, panting.

“Candle,” she sighed, jumping to retrieve it, lighting it and reaching for her coat. She handed the candle back to him as she rummaged in the pockets, pulling out a condom.

“Swap?” she said, taking the candle as he slipped it on. He blew it out the second he was finished, flinging it over his shoulder and flipping her over, planting kisses along her neck as he slid into her.

She gasped, and grabbed his arms again. The room dissolved again, there was only Mimi, warm, soft, gorgeous Mimi. Her nails raked his back, grasping his sides, pulling him closer. Her heels dug into his thighs, her teeth sunk into her neck, and he buried himself inside her.
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“Oh, God,” she whimpered, her body going rigid as she came again, clinging to him and screaming his name. He kissed her, grunting as he picked up his pace, coming closer, and closer, and finally with a groan, following her over the edge, seeing stars.

He collapsed on top of her, and she wrapped her arms around him, cradling him. They didn’t move for a few minutes, until the cold air started to penetrate their haze of pleasure. He kissed her softly, and pulled away reluctantly, barely mustering the strength to dispose of the condom before falling face down on he mattress. Mimi chuckled, sat up beside him, and rummaged around a bit.

“Roger?” she said, voice deliciously low.

“Yeah?” he replied, into the mattress. She hovered directly over him. He flipped over, and she slid onto his legs, straddling him. She was grinning, holding the candle, the bag of smack, and a syringe.

“Got a light?” she asked, with a wink.