After Midnight
John Price X Fem!Reader
John Price steps in as Reader's fake boyfreind when her ex stalks her in the club.
Next Part
"Put your hands on me, dove."
"What?" You chirp.
"He's comin' over. Put your hands on me."
"Fuck."
Your muttered explitive is completely drowned out by the music shuddering through the air in the club.
You'd recognize that godawful haircut anywhere. Apparently even through a dimly lit room crammed with people. Flashing lights and all, there was no doubt that your ex was here, and that he was scanning the crowd for someone.
You.
Panic laces your bloodstream on the middle of the dance floor. Your lungs seize abruptly and the sheen of sweat on your skin cools, leaving you shivering. You weren't a party girl. You didn't go to clubs. You were only out tonight because you wanted- no, you needed to prove to yourself that you were still desirable after all the nasty things he said about you during the breakup.
It's like dropping a pebble down a well and listening for the splash, left with the anticipation for some eventual sound that could come at any moment. And every second the stone doesn't plunk into the water below, time stretches until it's still. Until it snaps. Your eyes meet his across the room. Your stomach pits.
You run.
Taking off, you aim for the back of the club where it's darker. You nudge and slide your way through the sea of grinding couples and a spike of anger parts your fears momentarily. Because isn't it just like him to show up and ruin your night. Not that you were having a particularly fantastic time to begin with- but still. It's the sentiment of it all.
You stalk towards the dingy 'staff only' hallway where a few people ( who definitely aren't staff) are making out. Hopefully your ex will take one look at the blatant PDA and head the other way, because yeah. It does make people uncomfortable.
The soles of your shoes stick to the floor as you duck next to a mountain of a man - who is thankfully standing alone. He towers over you by at least a foot and you use his wide, sturdy build to hide yourself further from the room. If he does notice you, he doesn't show it. Instead, he seems more focused on sulking down here in the tunnel of shame and fumbling hands.
You groan and fall back against the postered walls, covering your eyes. The papers advertising various underground DJs are a little soggy from what you hope is beer (at least it smells like it) so you straighten back up with a grimace. Definitely showering when you get home. A draft of cool night air slips through the hall from beneath the exit, making you wrap your arms protectively around your middle.
You bite your lip, eyeing the door. You could slip out into the alley and leave that way... with that route you'd be able to avoid your ex, but you'd only be trading your bad situation in for a worse one. Frankly, you weren't terribly keen on the idea of dealing with whoever would be hanging around the back lane at this hour. It might be better to risk leaving through the front...
"A'right?" The big strangers deep, gravely voice tugs you back from your spiraling thoughts. It hauls you to dry land as easily as a mother cat grabs her wet kitten by the scruff and delivers it to safety. You tilt your chin to face him and with one look up at this man's eyes, you knew that's exactly what he offered. Safety.
His face was a little weathered. Big nose, smallish, blue eyes that would make the ocean jealous. Well-maintained beard and mutton chops. He was built masterfully, too, all shoulders and hard lines. All in all a gorgeous man, but more than that- he exuded a sense of protection and control that was damn near palpable.
It was unexplainable. In the same way that you knew your ex was here for you, you knew that this man would help you. So you answered his question honestly.
"No." You weren't alright.
"What's wrong, then?" He shifts his body to sheild you further, while still keeping half an eye on the rest of the room. Your gaze roams quickly over the bulge of his arms as they fold over his broad chest.
With a deep, albeit shakey breath, you recount how your recent breakup went bad. How your ex won't leave you alone. How he keeps showing up to your home, your work, and now you're almost positive that he is here to confront you. You'd hoped that blocking him on everything would be enough to dissuade him from talking to you, but clearly you'd been praying to a false God on that account.
Much to your surprise, he doesn't try to inturupt you while you talk. The man simply listens, his chin tucked down and expression unreadable, brows furrowed and eyes fixed intently on your face. He nods once when you're finished speaking, grunting when he spots your fingers playing nervously at your sides.
"Can you describe 'im for me?" He asks, stopping you from peering past his shoulder with the mere lift of his pointer and middle fingers that rested on his bicep. "Without lookin'."
"Oh. Yeah." You rub your own arms, trying to soothe away the goosebumps. "Tall- well- not as tall as you. Green eyes, blond hair. Horrendous man bun and shaved on the sides, you know?" Making a gesture beside your own head, you look up to make sure he's understanding. His mustache twitches.
"Mm, I know the type." He rumbles, a smirk playing at his lips. "What's he wearin'?"
"I don't know." You deflate. You'd been more focused on getting out of sight than on what he'd been wearing.
"S'alright." He touches your arm, attention slipping away from you momentarily. His easy posture doesn't change, but he stiffens. "Dark jeans, white jumper?"
"Jumper?" You wrinke your nose in confusion at the unfamilair british term.
"Hoodie." He translates for you.
"Oh. Yeah. I mean- maybe?"
Before you can blink, he's caging you in against the wall, both hands planted on either side of your head. Maybe you squeak, but the music swallows your surprise readily. There's no time to react before he leans in next to your ear, beard tickling your cheek as he murmurs:
"Think he's lookin'."
Automatically, you go to turn your head only to end up brushing your lips along his jawline. His facial hair prickles and you think you like it. Blushing furiously, you open your mouth to apolagise but the words die on your tongue when he moves closer. He consumes you without being invasive, crowding you now, but still careful not to touch you directly. He's so near that you can feel the heat radiating off of him between the scant distance of your chests.
"Put your hands on me, dove."
"What?" You chirp.
"He's comin' over. Put your hands on me." It's a demand this time. There's something in his tone now that you can't ignore, something that compells you to shiver and obey. He drops his head, nosing along the curve of your neck and collarbone as you slip your hands inside of his unzipped cargo jacket. The warmth of him instantly envelops you, seeping into your very bones. You're not cold anymore, you're almost too hot.
It's a casually deceptive act from both of you, and there's something so respectfully intimate in how he breathes you in, lips skimming up to your chin and leaving behind a trail of sparks. A hot puff of his breath tousels your hair and you ball your fists in the back of his shirt. It's only at his chuff of laughter when you realise you've tilted your head for more...
"Hey man, what the fuck you think you're doing with my girl?" Your ex's voice breaks whatever spell this man had put you under. The breath you'd been holding whooshes out of your lungs like you were punched, and the muscles that had turned to honey from just his proximity grow tense again at the unwanted presence.
The towering man doesn't lift his head immediatly. Instead, he hums beside your ear - a low, almost annoyed sound - and lets his beard rasp along your cheek lazily before looking up at the intrusion.
"Doesn't look like she's your girl anymore, eh?" He says casually, but there's an edge to his voice as he sizes up the other man. You're still practically engulfed by him. He hasn't given you back a millimeter of space, keeping himself all but pressed up against you. His hands haven't moved either, you note. They're both still beside your head, braced on the wall. Haven't even touched you and your knees are weak.
"Well she is, so I reccomend that you get the fuck off her, pal." Your ex repeats, tone haughty and he squares his shoulders like he actually thinks he could go head to head with this guy and come out victorious. He turns his attention to you then, still for the most part hidden by the stranger's frame. "I didn't come here to see you throwing yourself at whoever will take you like some common whore." He sneers.
Your cheeks flush in agitation at the insult. He's said such things before, but never to embarrass you in front of other people. The man previously dominating your personal space finally takes a step back, rolling his shoulders and expanding his chest. But before he can say anything, you're pushing in front of him to stand up to your ex. Because how dare he?
Ever since he got comfortable in your relationship, your ex had treated you like shit and you'd put up with it because really he was a sweet guy when he was happy. But you were done. He'd crossed the final line by insulting you in front of someone else, and the burly man standing behind you gave you enough confidence that your ex wouldn't deck you the second you laid into him.
"I don't know what part of 'never talk to me again' is so hard for you to understand! I don't want to see you, I don't want to talk to you, I don't want to call you... nothing! You need to accept that this-" You gesture between the two of you, "Is over. It's been over for a long time and I've told you every way I know how. We're finished, Okay?" You explode.
"Okay, but I just think you should give me another chance. I'll change." Your ex tries, pathetically trying to sweettalk his way back into your life. It might have worked on you once, but not anymore.
"No! I don't need to do anything else for you. I 'just think' that it's your turn to do something for me, and you can start by getting the fuck out of my life."
"Baby, I-" your ex starts, but you cut him off with a humourless laugh.
"Are you even hearing me right now? Are you hearing yourself!? We. Are. Over. I'm not your baby. I'm not your girl. I'm not your anything. Clear?"
He blinks stupidly. It was the first time you'd actually held your own against him. The first time you'd talked back and clearly he didn't know how to take it.
"Am I fucking clear?" You snap.
"Yeah." He swallows, brushing it off with a shrug. "Yeah, it's clear. It's whatever." He clears his throat, trying to play off his discomfort with an attempted smile. A smile that you mock and twist right back at him.
"One more thing." Your grin is sugary sweet and poisonous. Pure saccharine. "Call me whore again and I'll break your fucking nose."
The slapped expression on your ex's face is priceless. He wisely decides not to say anything else before walking away, seeming stunned.
Still grinning, you turn to the man behind you. He's stood unwavering, looking entertained and seeming more than a little impressed. With a surge of confidence and heady elation, you reach up and tug him towards you by his neck.
His eyebrows raise a little in surprise, but he leans down to meet you where you've stretched up on your toes to close the distance. He ducks his head, lips barely skimming yours before pulling away. You pout, glancing at him in displeasure. And then he's kissing you.
This time, he doesn't hold back. An arm snakes around your middle and heaves you against his chest, keeping you anchored to him with a heavy palm pressed to your lower back. His other hand tangles in your loose hair, tugging your head to angle you how he wants.
A breathy groan slips from your mouth, lips parting beneath his as thunder rumbles behind his sternum.
"Knew you'd be a needy little thing."
You feel your cheeks flush but you nod, just wanting more of him. The pulse of the bass hijacks your system and you're not sure if it's his heartbeat or yours that pounds in your ears. You tug at him desperately, and he huffs, smirking while you card your fingers through his hair. The scent of burnt spices envelops you just before he does.
"Christ, you're a sight."
His lips are on yours again, licking into your open mouth. He tastes like whiskey, you think leisurely, and you eagerly sip the flavour from his lips. The man - you still don't know his name - steps you back against the wall and slips a knee between your thighs.
The movement elicits a gasp as you clutch at him, hips pressing forward. He greedily swallows all the sounds that he draws from you, letting you grind against him for a moment before he stops you. His fingers tightens at your waist, stilling your restless motion. He doesn't want you to be greedy. He wants you to take what he gives you.
Instead, he rocks his thigh against you, letting the feeling build. You're gasping shamelessly against his lips, beard scratching your chin while he brings you nearer and higher. It makes it all the more cruel when he begins to slow before you can reach the peak you crave.
"Not here, dove. Not tonight." His voice thrums in your ear.
Protest leaves you in a whine. As badly as you want more of him, you have to reluctantly agree. The shame that would come with getting off in some dirty hallway with a guy you barely even know... it would fester the rest of the night.
He kisses you a little longer though, a little deeper. His lips are softer now, less demanding. Like he's trying to gradually calm the storm he evoked within you, to soothe that same ache he is responsible for.
When he finally breaks the kiss you're left flushed and panting, clinging to him to stay standing.
"Oh god." You breathe. "I don't usually do that- kiss random men in clubs."
"That so?" He asks, seeming amused.
"Mhm. I don't even know your name." You touch your fingers to your mouth and hope that your lipgloss isn't smudged to oblivion.
"S'John, sweetheart." He brushes the rough pad of his thumb over your bottom lip, smearing some of the remaining moisture.
"John." You repeat, trying it out. It's a good, solid name. Hefty on the tongue. "Thanks for... you know, scaring him off and everything."
"Oh I think you did all the work there, love." John chuckles, and you can't help but laugh too. "I wouldn't like to be on your bad side."
"You'd be hard pressed." You murmur, marveling at how the blue strobes highlight his features, dancing across his face and blinding you. But they dim in comparison to those eyes.
"Would I?" He lowers his voice to a pleased rumble. The hand on your hip kneads the flesh there gently.
You nod, blushing. The few shots you had earlier must be filtering through your conciousness now, because everything's a little hazy and your cheeks are hot. Hotter than just a blush.
The floor dips gently and you sway into him, barely bracing yourself with hand slapped haphazardly against his ribs.
"Sorry." You giggle, pulling back. He doesn't let you go far, though, holding tight at your waist to keep you from tipping over again.
"Alright, dove?" He asks, amusement sparkling in his eyes.
"Mhmm." You hum, still captivated by the lights playing exquisitely over the lines of his face.
"How'd you get here, sweetheart?"
"Took a cab." You tell him.
"Let me drive you back."
You hesitate. "Are you sure?" The last thing you want is to take advantage of his goodness.
John just hums and presses a kiss to the corner of your lips.
"Course" He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. "Gotta make sure my girl gets home safe, don't I?"
GUYS I'm so excited this is my first work in years! I'm still getting back into writing, but i hope you enjoyed it <3. Personally I'm not thrilled with how it came out, but my perfectionism needs to calm down, I'm sure it's good enough.
I realized there isn't actually that much Price in this Price fanfic.... I'm sorry! I swear there will be more of him in my next work!! You guys are gonna go crazy, I promise 😏😌
