Chapter Text
"N. O." Lana paused, catching Archer's steely eyes and casting him with a dark glower. "And what does that spell?" She let the words sink in as she tossed back the end of her drink. This was a mistake. The last taste was strong and boozy instead of sweet; most of the double clearly had been waiting at the bottom of her glass to strike.
She hadn't felt drunk yet, only buzzed, but with the last of this fourth tequila sunrise her knees buckled and she stumbled slightly. Just slightly enough that her tits momentarily touched his chest before she pulled back, steadying herself against the table behind her.
"It spells you're drunk," Archer said with the dirty grin Lana knew all too well. Shit. Shit. Shit. "Don't worry,” he said in a mock-reassuring tone. “So am I."
She wanted to spit at him. I'm not worried, she wanted to say, but her mouth suddenly felt very dry. He finished what appeared to be straight vodka in exactly three swallows and lurched forward to put his hand on her hip, squeezing her there hard before cupping her ass. She could smell him, strong and familiar: pomade and Chanel and his lips, sharply toxic like paint thinner.
"Yay, you're drunk. Big surprise, " she snapped, head growing foggier by the second. How did one after work cocktail turn into four doubles, and how did five o'clock become midnight so goddamn fast? All the others had gone off home hours ago, except for Pam, of course. Last Lana had seen, Pam had been watching them arguing, hopefully, by the pinball machines with a look of lust in her eyes either meant for her, or for Sterling, or for the two of them together. But it seemed even Pam had left now.
Lana wondered how she could let this happen, how she could end up here one-on-one in a seedy bar, drunker than she'd been in months, with him.
That thought sobered her up for a second and the feeling of his hand on her made her heartbeat pulse, made her act. Or try to. She gritted her teeth and made to slap him away but he just groped her harder, his fingers finding the crease of her fitted dress, finding that tight, narrow line between her buttocks and driving his palm against it like a hard, vertical salute. She tried not to moan.
"You stupid idiot," she managed to say into his ear through clenched teeth. "Never again. You...were a mistake, my worst one, and I'm never..." He drove his hand against the crease just a bit harder. "Ever," she breathed, and then lost her train of thought, head swirling.
"Lana, shut up," he said, and as usual, he seemed too articulate to be drunk. But she knew him well enough to understand that it would soon set in and he'd be a real hot fucking mess. "When you get all girl power, strong woman-" he snapped his fingers right in front of her face-" all it makes me want to do is shove your panties in your mouth, tape it up, and pound your vag so hard you can't sit for days." All this delivered with a cheerful grin and a laugh. Cockass. Buh.
"Oh my god, you're so..." She trailed off, her head spinning again. Shit. "So stupid." At once, the pressure left her ass and she looked up to see him walking away, toward the bar. Her body settled again, and she emitted a sigh. Close call. One of a million close calls in the past year or so since they'd officially broken up. Good thing, too, because this had been different. She had almost been tempted. Not quite.
So what , they'd had some good sex? Lana did not need him in her life again. Let him stumble back home and dial-a-hooker, wake up the next morning, head searing, with his face in a toilet. She needed to get out of here before he...
He was coming toward her, slowly now, a fresh shot glass of tequila in his grasp. He plucked the lime from rim of the glass and cast it to the floor before taking the shot in one go. She found herself staring at the way he licked his lips when he was through, the way he wiped them on the back of his black sleeve, the way he used to do after tongue-fucking her until she came with her toes curled and her mouth wide open.
When he reached her, he studied her with a casual smirk. "I'm feeling generous. So I'll call us a cab," he said loudly and grandly, "and on the way, you can decide whether or not you're going to be riding my hard boner tonight."
Lana glared at him and grabbed her coat, willing her feet to work. Luckily she was able to take several steps without wobbling. Too much. "Obviously, you're shit out of luck. Hope you enjoy jerking your sorry dick off," she spat, and then inhaled sharply when he drew her to his side, his nails pricking her through the thinly knit fabric of her dress.
He held her by the arms just like he used to, pinning them to her sides and scratching her, just barely. He leaned into her hair, his mouth in her ear, his breath hot. She squirmed, remembering all too well this very same position from too many times before to count. She wanted to elbow him so hard in the chest that it knocked the air out of him. She wanted to slap his stupid face, tell him how much better she was without him. She wanted him to know he wasn't anything special.
But then:
"Lana," he said in a murky, deep whisper that swam through her veins. "Lana, Lana," he said, and after that, it was all one deeply spoken, murmured word into her hair, his tongue flicking out to touch her earlobe:
"Lanayoulooksogood,
goddamnitLana,Iwanttofuckyou,
I'mgonnafuckyou,I'mgonnauseyou,
justwatch,
youwantmycock,don'tyou,
youdo,
you'remine,Lana,
don'tyourememberhowgooditfelt?"
She let out a whimper and felt her shoulders relax against him, and Jesus fuck, she felt that idiot prick smile against her skin. Lana jerked out of his grasp and fixed him with a scowl. His dumb ass grin fell off his face and was replaced with a look of befuddlement. "Don't get ahead of yourself, A-archer," she muttered back darkly, her drunkenness apparent by the way she stammered slightly. "I want... I want no less than ten orgasms and you have until dawn."
There was a fat pause.
"WOOOO!" he cheered loudly until she punched him in the chest. "Jesus, Lana!"
"Call that cab, asshat," she snapped, "because I'm seconds away from changing my mind." As he fumbled for his cell, her eyes wandered down his body: the slick hair, the sleek torso, the clinging trousers... showcasing a very apparent erection. She rolled her eyes, and ignored the way her cunt pounded for it.