Catching Fry 2 Still Reeling

The last notes of the song faded, and Fry stood in front of Eric for a moment, giving him time to catch his breath and cool off. She smiled at him, softly, before turning away. Eric headed back to the table, his legs a little shaky, his heart hammering harder than he wanted to admit.

He sat down heavily, nursing his drink and watching the others still out on the dance floor. They were laughing, still dancing, lost in the giddy chaos of the wedding party. Eric took several long sips of his whiskey, the burn as it went down this throat helping ground him. After a few minutes, he mumbled an excuse to Andre and slipped outside.

The bass from Aviator still thudded in his chest as he stumbled out onto the sidewalk. He laughed under his breath, thinking about how wild the party had gotten. Every single member of the wedding party, from cousins to old friends, crammed onto that tiny floor like kids at a house party.

The night air outside was thick and heavy, the Alabama humidity wrapping around him like a blanket. A cool breeze snuck through teasing his skin, just enough to stop the sweat from clinging too badly. Around him, several members of the wedding party spilled into the street like loose change. They were loud, laughing, half-tipsy. Some were calling Ubers, others already plotting the afterparty at the Airbnb rented by Trell.

Eric leaned against the wall, head tilted back, letting the night cool him. He didn't even realize Fry was behind him until he felt a small hand slip into the crook of his elbow.

"You good, Toad?" she asked, flashing him a sideways grin that made his heart thump.

Eric turned toward her, trying to play it cool. God, she looked good he thought. The thin sundress she wore clung to her curves, riding up just a little on her thighs, and her short pixie cut was tousled perfectly from dancing. Under the streetlights, her skin gleamed like polished gold.

"Yeah," Eric said, clearing his throat. "You drunk?"

Fry shrugged, playful before responding. "Little bit. Tipsy. Not fallin' in ditches drunk."

Eric laughed, a low rumble. "Good. You know your grandma would kill me if you ended up face first on Commerce Street."

"She ain't here, is she?" Fry teased, teetering on the edge of the curb like she was in a circus act. "And anyway, you always caught me before I could fall, right?"

"Remember high school?" she added, leaning back against a random car, arms folded loosely across her chest. "You had everybody scared of you. Even Mr. Beasley."

Eric chuckled, shaking his head at the memory of the old security guard, who had once threatened to call his mama over a cafeteria fight. The was until he realized Fish was Eric's stepdad. After that, Beasley turned a blind eye to Eric's scuffles.

"I had to be tough," Eric said, grinning. "Because you and Dre couldn't fight worth a damn back then."

Fry laughed, wide and shameless. "Still can't. That's what I had you for."

The words hung between them, heavier than the thick Alabama air.

"You always said you were protecting your 'lil sister,'" Fry said after a moment, her voice dropping low.

Eric swallowed hard, attempting to swallow the tension and his desire.

"Yep, because as mom put it," he said. "You're family."

Fry tilted her head, studying him with her dark, unreadable eyes. The moment stretched between them, taut and electric. Eric wasn't sure if it was the alcohol loosening his self-control or the years of unspoken tension finally boiling over, but he stepped closer before he could think better of it. Close enough to catch the faint scent of her lotion which smelled of coconut and oranges, with something softer underneath.

He should have pulled back. Should've cracked a joke, lightened the air like he always did. Instead, they stood there, inches from each other with nothing but the thick night and the distant sounds of their friends to keep them tethered to reality.

Eric braced himself for the inevitable interruption because there was always one. Like clockwork, the door to the bar swung open and more people spilled outside, laughing and shouting.

Eric took a step back, forcing a smile, and started saying his goodbyes. He nodded to Fry before turning to Andre and Kita to tell them he'd see them at the wedding, joking that he needed to rest up for round two at the reception.

Eric looked over at Fry and teased, "You good? Think y'all can make it back to your hotel? You know your grandma would kill me if you didn't."

Fry gave him a mock salute. "Aye aye, sir. I'm going to hang out a little longer. I'm a big girl now."

Eric laughed and crossed the street to his hotel, The Renaissance.

A few minutes later, most of the crowd had split up with a few off headed off to afterparties, others calling it a night. Tameron, who stayed across town, had drank too much and asked if she could crash with Fry instead of risking attempting to make the drive. Fry and Tameron stumbled back to Fry's hotel room, which was a block or so away, still buzzing with energy. As they walked, they tossed around the idea of going to Trell's Airbnb but ultimately decided against it. Instead, they opted to stay in, kick off their heels, and decompress before the wedding the next afternoon.

Sitting cross-legged on the bed, they talked for an hour, sipping some cheap champagne Tameron had stashed in her bag from plastic hotel cups. The conversation drifted, growing more personal. Somewhere between laughs, Tameron confided she was bisexual, sharing a few college stories about figuring herself out.

The room grew quieter after that. Fry changed into sleep clothes, an old, oversized sleep shirt and a pair of basketball shorts her ex had left behind. Tameron not being prepared to spend the night stripped down to just her underwear. They lay there in the dark, pretending to be asleep, no one saying a word.

Fry's mind wandered. She was drunk now, way past tipsy, and couldn't stop thinking about some of the things Tameron had said about exploring, about giving in to curiosity. She could feel herself getting wet, and before she could talk herself out of it, she slipped a hand under the waistband of her shorts. She rolled onto her stomach, face buried in the pillow, trying to be as quiet and still as possible as she slowly encircled her clit with her fingertip. Between the low hum of the TV and the occasional noise of traffic outside, she thought Tameron wouldn't notice.

But Tameron wasn't asleep.

The bed shifted. Fry froze as she felt hands on her back, slow and gentle, massaging, then lips, soft and insistent, brushing against her spine.

At first, Fry didn't react, pretending to sleep. Until she couldn't anymore. When she finally rolled over, wide-eyed, Tameron was there, hovering, anticipating.

"What's going on?" Fry whispered.

"Let me help," Tameron whispered, grabbing Fry's shorts and sliding them down before kissing her again, lower this time.

Fry was almost in shock but embarrassed. She wasn't shaved; she hadn't planned for anything to happen this weekend but luckily, she kept herself trimmed short. She'd lost control and couldn't think straight; the air between them was charged, every nerve in her body burning.

She was getting close to a orgasm when Tameron suddenly pulled away.

Fry gasped, desperate. "Please," she whispered.

But Tameron only smiled slyly, her fingers tracing slow, circles along Fry's thigh.

"Call him," she said, voice low and coaxing.

Fry blinked up at her, she swallowed hard, her mouth dry.

"Call who?" Fry asked, her voice small and shaky.

"The man who you wanted to kiss tonight," Tameron responded, the corner of her lips forming a devious smile.

Fry feigned confusion, almost hopeful that Tameron might say someone, anyone, else.

Tameron leaned closer, her breath warm against Fry's ear. "You know who," she whispered, a wicked edge threading through the softness.

Fry shook her head slightly, still pretending, still clinging to the last shred of control she had. "Tameron...... I... I don't know what you're talking about," she mumbled, even though deep down she knew exactly where this was heading.

Tameron just chuckled softly, and moved her hand higher up Fry's inner thigh.

"You do," she said. "Don't make me spell it out."

Fry squeezed her eyes shut for a second, her body betraying her as a fresh wave of heat rolled through her. She tried again, desperately.

"Anyone but Toad," she whispered, her voice cracking with something close to panic.

Tameron didn't back off. She just smiled that same slow, sly smile and kissed Fry's bare thigh, her fingers brushing just where Fry needed them most but not giving in.

"The nastier, the better, that's my motto" Tameron said, "That's what you want, isn't it? Something you're not supposed to have?"

Fry whimpered, half in protest, half in helpless arousal, her hand fumbling for her phone even as her mind screamed at her to stop.

Tameron leaned back, watching her with bedroom eyes, patient, waiting.

Fry stared down at the screen, her fingers trembling, and dialed until his name appeared.

She laid there, her thumb hovering over Eric's name, her body trembling.

This was wrong.

This was so wrong.

But even as her mind reeled, her body moved on its own, a traitor to the better judgment she tried and failed to hold onto.

Slowly, with a shaking hand, Fry tapped the call button.

Eric was dead asleep when his phone buzzed. He answered the call half asleep, his voice thick and rough.

"Hello?"

"Hey, um..." Fry's voice came through, shaky and rushed, almost too loud in the dark quiet of his room. "We, uh... we can't find our key. Do you mind if we crash at your place?"

Eric rubbed his face, trying to shake the fog from his mind. "Yeah, yeah, of course. C'mon over."

Fry and Tameron quickly dressed, skipping their underwear, grabbing the half-empty champagne bottle before heading out. They texted Eric when they were weaving between the few late night stragglers outside Aviator Bar.

Fry and Tameron crossed the street a few seconds later, the neon lights of downtown Montgomery cast them in flashes of purple and blue. Eric came down and let them in the side door of the Renaissance, not thinking anything of it, just glad they were safe.

Back in his room, they shared a few drinks, the TV playing low in the background barely registered with Eric as he laughed at their intoxicated conversation.

It was Fry who asked first, flashing a sheepish smile. "You got any t-shirts we can borrow? These clothes are getting uncomfortable."

Eric nodded, rummaging through his suitcase and tossing them each a soft, worn shirt. They disappeared into the bathroom to change, leaving the door cracked open. Eric tried not to look. He really did. But in the mirror over the TV stand, he caught a glimpse of Fry peeling off her dress, the curve of her hip, the flash of bare skin through the crack of the door. Tameron standing behind her, slipping out of her skirt, her body voluptuous and skin caramel smooth.

When they stepped back out, Eric swallowed hard.

Both women were barefoot, only wearing the t-shirts that barely skimmed the tops of their thighs. The fabric clung to them, Tameron nipples hard and pushing against the cotton, impossible to miss. Their legs gleamed under the muted lamplight the peered through the sheer curtain. Fry's hair was messy and wild from changing, making her look even more reckless and beautiful.

Eric quickly shifted his eyes away, pretending to play with his phone, fighting the heat rising in his face. He laid on the bed, facing the wall, willing himself to calm down.

"Night, y'all," he muttered, closing his eyes.

He was just starting to drift off when he heard Fry's voice, low and hesitant.

"Eric?" she said.

He cracked one eye open.

"I can't get comfortable next to Tameron," she said, pouting a little. "Mind if I sleep in your bed?"

Eric groaned quietly. He was too tired to argue and too much of a sucker to tell her no.

"Yeah, whatever," he mumbled, scooting over.

The mattress dipped as she climbed in behind him, both trying and failing to be quiet. Fry's bare leg brushed his, and he stiffened but didn't move. He kept his back to her, eyes squeezed shut. For a few minutes, it was peaceful. He could feel the champagne and the long day pulling him under. But then he heard Fry's voice again, even softer this time.

"Hey... can we just push the beds together? I think it'll be more comfortable that way."

Eric mumbled something close to a yes and drifted back toward sleep as Fry and Tamaron got up, dragging the two queen beds side-by-side, the frame scraping quietly against the carpet.

He didn't know how long he was out. It might have been minutes. Might've been an hour.

But the sound pulled him back. Wet, rhythmic, unmistakable. At first he thought he was dreaming. He kept his eyes closed, his breath shallow, trying to stay still. But then he felt it, a hand on his back, light and trembling. He turned over slowly. And there they were.

Fry and Tameron were kissing, slow and hungry, silhouetted by the faint glow of the TV. Tameron's hand was under Fry's shirt, lifting it higher. Eric watched, heart pounding painfully against his ribs, as Tameron bent and suckled gently at Fry's nipple, then the other, her mouth worshipful, slow.

Fry's head tipped back, her mouth open in a soft gasp, her hand gripping the sheets.

Eric couldn't help it. His hand slid down to his boxers, massaging the growing hardness straining against the fabric.

As if sensing it, Fry reached for him, her fingers tentative at first, then more confident. She slipped her hand inside, wrapping around him, stroking slow and deliberate until she felt the sticky bead of precum at the tip. He groaned low in his throat.

Tameron kissed her way down Fry's stomach, parting her legs with a sure hand. Fry whimpered, torn between the sensations. She clutched at Eric with her other hand, pulling him closer. He slid over, burying his face against her chest, sucking on one nipple, then the other, feeling her shudder beneath him.

Their eyes met in the dim light. A look thick with everything they had never said.

Eric kissed her. A deep, desperate kiss that made the world fall away, made it just about them again, just like that afternoon outside the planetarium all those years ago. Fry arched into him, her back lifting off the bed, her mouth locked with his as she came hard against Tameron's tongue, trembling, helpless, beautiful. He felt it! The ripples through her stomach, the taut clenching of her muscles as he and Tameron both touched her, teased her, coaxed every last shudder out of her.