So much for a 'very short' imagine, huh, AnxietyBitchh lol

A Chris-centric imagine set in post-Diorama days... enjoy :) 

"Alrighty," Chris muttered to himself as he wiped the bar down with a wet cloth. "Ben is passed out over there." He jutted his pointer finger out in front of him as if his elbow was weighed down in cement. "And Dan has shown his bum more than once." He attempted to hide a giggle and hiccuped in the process. "I reckon this little party is now over."

I reckoned he was over, too. I saw him shove the wet cloth aside and pour us each another shot, but I couldn't stop him. He was too damn cute when he was tipsy. He was approaching the phase of drunkenness where he may or may not stumble and may or may not catch himself, but my smile kept spreading on my face. I spotted a smile on his face, too, just before he turned around to clank around some bottles.

He owned the bar above my tattoo parlor. He had been asking me, for months, to come up whenever my evening shifts ended, and I kept doing so. I can't resist the free shots, draft beer (so frothy and hoppy) and his eyes that twinkle in the lights above his head like little bowls of sugary and melted chocolate buttons.

"Hi," Daniel's voice was raspy and hung in the air between us. He brushed up against me, having little regard for my personal space. The tip of his cigarette was lit within the time it took for him to squint his eyes at me and say, "When are ya gonna give me that tattoo I asked for?"

I shook my head. "When you manage to actually get your ass into my chair."

He blew the cig smoke behind him and away from my face. His baby blues were watery and grey with liquor and little sleep. A frown played on his brows. "Yeah. I'm scared. It's gonna be a really big tattoo and it's gonna hurt a lot, but---" He took another drag from his cigarette and put his arm around my shoulders. "You'll take good care of me, won't ya, mujer?"

I could not contain my laughter. Chris turned around with a slight teetering to one side. I detected a slight pout on his lips as his eyes passed over Daniel's arm around me. "Hey, mate, why dontcha call you and Benny a taxi, huh?"

"Huh?" Daniel peeled his arm off of me and dug around the pocket of his satin jacket for his phone. He stuffed his cig between his lips and nodded. "Yeah. Good idea."

As Daniel sauntered over to the far corner of the bar where Ben was laying, snug as a bug sleeping off more beer than recommended for a bloke his height and weight, I traced my finger around the rim of my shot glass. "Last shot of the night. What should we toast to?"

Chris's dark brown curls were nestled atop his head and some were boyishly astray in his lashes. All of a sudden, it wasn't only the warmth from the beer and shots that I was feeling. This heat was growing from deep in my core. If I didn't already know the guy well, I would have shut my eyes and looked away. He had my full attention, though.

We raised our shot glasses in the air. Chris whispered, "Let's toast to ... surprises."

"Surprises," I repeated, a little curious, as our glasses spat out a proper clink before we put our heads back and downed our shots.

Not too long after, a taxi pulled up to fetch Ben and Daniel.

Ben, looking as if he were a tourist in the wrong country with his sunglasses and a Hawaiian shirt on, gave Chris and I high-fives and fist pumps. "Aw, man," he said to Chris, "this night was epic. Thank you."

It was the same thing he pretty much said every night we all hung out, but it was always true.

Ben all of a sudden clambered on top of the bar and gave Chris a tight squeeze of a hug. He moaned, "I love you, man."

"I love ya, too, Benny," Chris patted his mate's back and motioned over for Daniel to pry him off the bar.

"C'mon, Ben," Daniel moved his friend's dark hair out of his face and held him close. "The night is still young. Let's go to my place and watch Star Wars. Whichever one you want."

Benny's face lit up and the two of them disappeared out the door and into the breezy, mild night air that felt like silk against the skin.

Chris and I were about to leave the bar as well, and then we would say our good-byes and he would go home in one direction and I in the other, but tonight that didn't happen. Tonight I felt the warmth of his hand as it pressed against the small of my back as he led me out onto the street.

I almost felt as if it didn't happen because he used both hands to lock up the bar behind us. I could still feel the shape of his large and capable hand beneath my clothing, though. The warmth of his palm had somehow tattooed itself onto me. It wasn't a hallucination. It really happened. His cheeks looked rosier than usual, too.

He then spoke with the accuracy of a shooting star and my heart caught in my throat.

"I don't want this night to end."

He put his hand right back where it was, on my lower back.

"Me neither," I barely spoke.

He heard me and nodded. His hand pushed me a scintillating inch closer to him. He teetered to the side once again and we both giggled. He wrapped his other arm around my upper back after I shivered.

"Are you cold?"

"No," I wasn't. I was very, very warm in his arms.

One of his fingers traced a line down my cheek. His eyes searched mine and I smiled. I took another step and had to tilt my head back so our eyes remained locked.

With the same finger he traced a swirling line from my ear to my neck, from my neck to my collarbone and then to my bare shoulder. His breathing steadied and his downcast eyes remained set on my shoulder. He was writing something on it with his finger, but I couldn't focus on his secret message. His hand that was on my back grazed a bit beneath the hem of my halter top. My breath ran away from me and I was ready for him to count us down. Our lips were waiting for blast off.

It was one sweet and supple kiss at first, and then so many that they felt like heavy raindrops. Each touch of his lips on mine engaged some sort of storm within me. He became lost in our kissing rainfall, too, because his arms gripped me tighter. He didn't want me to go anywhere.

Both of his hands had found their way on my back, below the fabric of my top. When our kissing slowed, his hands remained there as he caressed the sensitive skin above my spine with his fingertips. This was becoming too much. I had to lay down.

"My boss," I shivered, "has a room at the back of the shop. Sometimes she sleeps over after a late night of work. She went home hours ago."

"Take me there."

***

I would love to tell you how Chris and I got back to the little room at the back of the tattoo parlor and locked the door behind us and carried on with our rainfall of kisses. That he traced his fingertips over my skin more and more and then dolloped his kisses over the places his fingers so gently ventured----but that's not what happened.

Almost the second I turned the tiny desk lamp on in the room, Chris turned to me and said, "Sorry."

"Sorry? Sorry for what?"

He burped and covered his face.

Laughter bubbled up my throat. "Oh, Chrissy, you are too far gone, aren't ya?"

He plopped himself onto the small bed and nodded. "Yep." His bottom lip protruded as he pouted for the second time that night. "I've been a bad boy."

His words launched a rocket off in my chest. I sat next to him, tried my best to behave myself, and laid my head upon his shoulder. He was wearing his unbelievably soft flannel shirt with the red and black plaid that I loved the most. He must have worn it once a week or so. I think it was his favorite shirt, too.

I shivered again. He eased my head off his wide shoulder and started to unbutton his shirt. He saw my eyes widening as he did so.

"Don't get any ideas," he grinned. Unfortunately, he was wearing a shirt underneath. "You're cold. Put this on, please, or else I won't be able to sleep tonight."

My cheeks blushed. "Fine."

I slid his massive sized flannel onto my arms and wrapped it around my torso. I stopped shivering. The scent of juicy lemon and beer and something like a wood-burning fire made the corners of my mouth lift even further.

He slumped backward and shoved the one pillow into the corner behind his head. "Come here," he beckoned.

I shimmied my body back against his while he laid his arm out beneath my head so that I could use his muscle as a firm pillow. He wrapped his other arm around my body. I could feel his heartbeat against my back. The steady beat played in my ears. It was the sweetest thing I had ever listened to while falling asleep.

The following morning I woke up first. We had squirmed around bit by bit on the bed. Somehow, to my pleasure, he had ended up in my arms. Granted, I couldn't exactly wrap my arms all the way around him, but one of my arms managed to curve around the smallest part of his waist. I opened my eyes and all I could see was the top of his curls. I kissed them and caressed his abdomen as my other arm tightened around his shoulders. I moved my hand up into his hair. I could tell he had woken up because I could feel the flutter of his eyelashes against my pinky.

He looked up at me and yawned. I had never seen a sight so precious. He was a grown man, yet his eyes looked as bright and playful as a little baby's.

"Good morning," I cooed.

He smiled and aligned our bodies so that we could see each other better.

"Was I a good boy last night?"

My heart almost stopped in my chest. Had he forgotten? Was he too far gone to remember our kisses under the stars?

"Oh," he looked worried, "no, no. I remember what happened up there." He ran a finger over my lips. "I meant, was I a good boy last night in here. I didn't try anything, did I? I hope if I did that ya would've slapped me, hard."

I was so enamored with him all I could do was shake my head. He let out a breath and placed his heavenly hand on my face.

We remained like that for some time before he heard my tummy growl. A laugh rumbled in his chest.

"You know what would be really, really good right about now?"

"What?" I asked. I had a few ideas.

"A burger. With lots of cheese."

Hunger bit me like a wolf. My other ideas could wait.

"Hit up the boys," he instructed me. "Tell them we're having burgers at my house."

As I was finishing my text to Dan and Ben, Chris waited for me at the door.

"Huh?"

"Well," he waved his hand, "c'mon, we need to go to the shops for some things first."

"More beer?" I joked.

Just as I was about to pass him through the doorway, he stopped me and slid his flannel shirt off my shoulder. The same shoulder he was writing a secret message on with the tip of his finger the night before.

"What were you trying to tell me, Chris?"

He began to write the words out on my shoulder again. This time he decoded them for me.

"Kiss.....me.....please."