His hands curl around the arms of the lounge chair and he leans forward, close enough to taste. "Did he kiss you again tonight, Jo?"

She stares at him with wide eyes as his body moves subtly over hers, jeans rough through the thin material of her skirt. Her mouth is open, lips parted with desire and disbelief. "No."

"Why not?"

The low growl of his voice is like an elixir, firing her blood to boiling as he moves even closer. He's practically lying on top of her, his body held tightly over hers. She aches to arch upward and press against him, wants to feel the hard press of the erection that hovers just out of reach. "We," she pauses, clearing her throat. "We just talked."

"For being such a genius, this guy is incredibly stupid, Jo."

"Why's that?" She stared up at him, afraid to look down, afraid to see how good he looked on top of her, knowing that if she saw him above her, their bodies pressed together, she'd want him too much.

"Because," he licked his lips as he bent his head, breathing her breath before he kissed her softly, "you need to be kissed."

"Maybe…" she swallowed hard, her eyes locked on his. "Maybe I need to be kissed by someone else."

He groaned softly, barely loud enough to hear, as he bent his head, pressing his lips to hers. He licked her lips, parting them and slipping his tongue inside her, tasting her mouth. He licked the roof, running his tongue along her teeth before pushing it deeper, seeking out her tongue with his own.

The soft hint of berry from her lipstick sweetened the kiss as she sucked on his tongue, wanting it deeper in her mouth, as her hands moved up to his shoulders, pulling him down on top of her. The bitter cold of the night air was forgotten as his cock pressed against her body, sending shafts of blinding heat along her spine.

"Oh…" She whimpered as he ground his body against hers before pulling back, breathing hard. The mist of his breath hung between them, tasting of mint and barely restrained desire. "…Pacey…"

He shook his head and moved down her body, his hands pushing up her soft blue sweater, exposing her smooth stomach to the cold air. She gasped, not protesting as he slid it up higher, bunching it around her shoulders as the fingers of one hand quickly unfastened the front clasp of her bra.

She cried out as the bitter air bit at her nipples, followed by the hot rush of his mouth surrounding one, sucking lightly at the tight tip. His large hand covered the other, massaging it in the chill. Her hands wove into his hair, tugging at the short strands as he suckled her skin.

His free hand slipped under her body, arching her toward him as he nibbled the creamy flesh, pulling away slowly from one before moving to the other. Joey whimpered as the air rushed to fill the void of his mouth, pulling her nipple even tighter. Her hips arched up off the lounge chair, bucking against his as she threw her head back, her chest offered up to him.

Pacey pulled away with an anguished groan, both of his hands on her sides then sliding up to cup her breasts. His thumb and forefinger teased the nipples even harder until she was thrashing beneath him, begging him to stop. "Stop?" He whispered on her stomach, his tongue tracing the faint lines of muscle. "Or don't stop?"

"Oh God," Joey muttered, her hands in his hair, pushing him lower. "Don't stop."

Pacey resisted her efforts, moving back up to her breasts and staring at them in the dancing light of the aurora borealis. Blues and reds and purples seemed to swirl in the air around them, dancing over her skin as he brought his mouth back down, his tongue flickering over the nipple as one hand slipped over her hip, tugging at the zipper of her skirt.

She didn't feel the cold at all as she lifted off the lounge chair, feeling his fingers trace over her hips and thighs as he reluctantly pulled away from her, slipping her skirt down her body until it dangled from her ankles, hanging precariously above the slightly damp ground. He touched her reverently, as if he'd never seen anything so beautiful, so perfect. Joey watched him lick his lips, desire flaring in the darkness of his eyes as he ran his fingers down to her knees then back up, curling under the waistband of her panties.

Fear and passion warred within her as her body reacted on instinct, rising up for him so he could slide the damp material down as well, his hand pushing both them and her skirt down until they were nothing more than a diaphanous pile on the ground. She was naked, her brain reminded her. Naked in the cold, lying naked before him. She hated him, didn't she?

Nothing registered as he looked at her, his gaze hot enough to beat back the cold Massachusetts night. She should be unsure in her nakedness before him, before anyone, but something in his eyes revered her as he moved over her again, barely brushing her lips as he knelt between her parted legs.

His lips were like feathers on her skin, dancing over the surface of her face and neck, slipping down to her shoulders and chest. He kissed every inch of her softly, his tongue leaving marks that seemed to burn her skin as he moved back to her breasts, fondling them carefully, as if his fingers might scorch her.

Her hips arched off the chair again and she wrapped her legs around his, offering herself up to him. She could feel the blush heat her face, but the blood beating through her body simply wanted more as his hands skimmed her sides and cupped her ass, pulling her closer.

Rough denim scraped velvet skin and she gasped, not recognizing her voice as she begged him to touch her. Everything inside her wanted him, wanted him inside her. She pleaded with him, crying out his name softly as she watched him want her, touch her. Everything else fell away as he moved off the chair, his knees sinking into the ground as he leaned forward, his warm breath flooding into her as he brushed his tongue over the rosy skin that shielded her clit.

She moaned, a quiet, shuddering sound, feeling tears leak from her eyes as his thumbs parted the skin and he paused, watching? Waiting? Wanting? She didn't know, couldn't see, couldn't think past the sheer desire to have him be the first to touch her, the first to taste her. "Pacey," she begged him, hoping he'd understand the request she couldn't put into words.

His tongue felt like a knife of sheer pleasure as it flicked over her clit and she whipped her hand over her mouth to bite back her scream. Once he started, he didn't pause, nibbling on skin, sucking on flesh. His tongue feasted on her clit, teasing it until she knew her scream wouldn't be held back, would bring all of Capeside running. She bit her hand, teeth digging into the skin until it broke, the coppery taste of blood doing nothing to detract from the wave she could feel building inside her.

Her muscles were like steel cords, stretched to almost breaking as he ran his tongue down to her opening, then back up to her clit, repeating the motion again and again as she writhed above him, losing her tight control as he slipped two fingers inside her. She shuddered, the orgasm seeming to run through her in stages, starting at her shoulders and building momentum as it rushed down to Pacey's fingers.

She caught her breath, trying to slow her beating heart, when the realization that he hadn't stopped ricocheted through her. He was still thrusting, pushing his fingers inside her, his tongue still moving over her, tasting her in earnest now. Her free hand dug into his hair, fighting to regain some sort of control as her body responded to him, her legs spreading wider still as he fucked her - oh God, he was fucking her - steady and relentless with his fingers and tongue and she just wanted his cock inside her.

She wanted to feel him and fuck him. Just thinking the words made her blush deeper. Admitting what she really wanted, admitting that what she'd been telling herself was just a fluke over the past few days, weeks, months, was what she really wanted, wrenched his name past her lips as she pulled his hair. She wanted him up, wanted him to move up her body and slide inside her, wanted him. "Pacey…Pacey, fuck me. Please?" She was panting, breathless and hungry and wanting more. "Please?"

He moved up her, the sound of his zipper hanging in the cold air. She could feel his jeans slipping down his legs as he moved up, feel his cock pressed to her opening. He stopped, staring down at her. She looked up at him, making sure that he knew it was his face she saw, his blue-black eyes, his mouth wet with her come. He stayed there, watching her, searching her eyes until she wrapped her legs around the back of his thighs and pushed up against him, needing him inside her.

He groaned and pushed forward, both of them too far gone to notice the slight pressure as he pierced her hymen. Joey kissed him, tasting herself on his lips. She moaned and sucked at his tongue, wanting more as he thrust, his breathing choppy between kisses, his body constantly in motion as they rocked together, the wide bands of the lounge chair digging into her skin as his weight pressed his cock deeper inside her.

Her heels dug into his skin as she rose up, her hips matching his rhythm, greeting every thrust with a matching one of her own. She felt his muscles go tight as he stilled for a second then pushed forward hard and long, coming inside her. It seemed endless, even as he started moving again.

Joey reached down between them, pulling back fingers slick and wet. She put them against his lips, painting them with her and him as he leaned forward. She watched as he licked his lips, then did the same, tasting the liquid that he'd missed as she kissed him. Pacey's rhythm changed to long, deep strokes that seemed to work their way higher through her body, then became quick and fast, his body grinding against her clit with every one. She gasped again and again, a breath for a stroke, tasting sweat and Pacey and her and blood and…and…

"Joey?"

She snapped her eyes open and turned her head, shocked to see Dawson watching her. "Wha…?" Her breathing was fast and erratic, the unreleased orgasm swirling inside her. "Dawson?"

"Yeah. Dawson." He gave her an odd look. "You fell asleep." He gestured up to the lights still dancing above their heads. "I'm guessing the excitement of the night was too much for you?"

"Yeah," she nodded, not really hearing but agreeing, nonetheless. Her breath gathered around her in white clouds, almost obscuring his face. "I should go to bed."

He nodded and stood up. "It's late. Come on. I'll walk you in."

She nodded and let him help her to her feet, glad for the support since she wasn't sure she could stand on her own. She felt heavy and unsatisfied. It had seemed so real. She looked at Dawson and sighed, her gaze falling to the ground. She'd been so sure it was real.

Pacey watched as Dawson walked Joey to the door, sighing and shoving his hands in his pockets. He'd watched her eyes close, waited for Dawson to leave so he could go up to her and give her a hard time about her date, find out the details so he could punish himself, remind himself that Joey Potter was off limits. At least to him.

But maybe what he'd seen had proven exactly that. He sighed again and turned to go, trying not to dwell on the fact that when she woke, she looked like she'd had one hell of a dream.

3/08/02