Pink Pansies ✺ A Pedro Pascal A.U.

Chapter 4: Even the Playing Field

I rolled my eyes but felt gravity pull me to him. I gave a weak push against his waist but it was more of an excuse to touch him. "Don't take all the credit. That drink was strong."

"You're just so small you're probably a lightweight." Justification for a slow devouring of my pixie stature.

"You don't feel anything?" I asked.

"I do feel something, but not from that one beer." He quipped with a smile.

I took another drag. "Let's even the playing field then."

"I drove here otherwise I would." Almost regretfully, then a long pause and a careful look before, "we could go back to my place?"

The suggestion elicited a ludic curiosity. I moved the cigarette down and away from my mouth.

"And do what?" I dared, liking the fact that our bodies were conveniently positioned relative to one another so that I could look up at him from beneath my lashes.

"Even the playing field." He whispered in an obvious yet seductive tone as his forefinger rose and began playing with the ends of my curls.

The brisk air did nothing to quell the heat that rose inside of me. He could be dangerous. A curious experiment that was quickly snowballing into something more.

I had never really dated anyone more than a few years older than me, but Pedro was twenty-one years older. I was intrigued when I first saw him on the app. Toyed with the idea in my head for a while before agreeing to meet up. I wasn't too attached until I was actually in his presence. Normally I was the one with the upper hand. I liked being in control. With him it was different.

His confidence and charisma seemed to have an endless reserve and the way he carried himself was novel to me. I felt desperate for more.

"What do you think?" He asked, the back of his finger gently caressing my jawline. My eyelids fluttered on their own.

"Hmm?" I hummed in response, lost in my own thoughts and the feeling of his skin against mine.

He chuckled at that and I felt the momentary absence of his touch. Then, his forefinger delicately traced a line down my arm before it found my hand. He plucked the cigarette from my grasp, forcing my attention on his actions. I watched carefully as he brought it up to my mouth.

"Open up." He murmured.

The provocative nature of slipping a phallic object between my lips didn't make him chuckle or smirk. He let his thumb linger on my bottom lip, applying the slightest bit of pressure before releasing it. The seriousness of his delivery was a new experience altogether and it created an ache. I found myself desiring countless situations where he was in control.

My gaze was fixed on his face, watching for something, though I didn't know what. He swallowed hard before his eyes dragged their way up from my lips to my own eyes. There was no mischief, charm or familiarity. This was a contemplative stare.

I took a long deep drag.

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Hiiiii again. :) let me know what you think of the story so far in the comments! <3