AN: Sequel to "Dance Until Dawn". If you haven't read that one first, please do so or risk becoming horrendously confused. Takes place during the summer break before the gang's senior year.

AN2: So after the finale, I had to post. But be forewarned: I only have this chapter finished, so the rest might be a little slow witht he updates. I sorry. You mad? (bonus points tot anyone who catches that GIF reference)

Summary: I stared for a while and waited for words, seen but not heard. Sometimes I wish you would leave me. Don't you leave me...

Warnings: language, lemon

Disclaimer: I wrote this TWENTY times in the prequel, is that not ENOUGH? No? Oh, well then, I don't own "Skins".

Chapter One

Useless Feelings

Tea's dancing with Daisy and Abbud, laughing and smiling. And Tony, instead of partying it up, seems to have fallen back into old habits. He's just watching her, more longing in his eyes than he would like.

He could have her, right now. If he wanted. All he'd have to do is whisper something vaguely dirty in her ear and touch her just so, and they'd be scurrying to the nearest available bedroom. Or bathroom. Or any room with a door, table, counter, or sturdy wall; they're not shy people.

But if he does that, and god he's such a pussy, if he does that, it'll just be about sex. And he kinda doesn't want it to be. He kinda wants to...you know, make love.

Tony counters this horribly sappy thought with another slug of whatever they're serving at this club. The soothing effect of the liquor is banished when he notices a girl, beautiful and obviously interested, wrap her arms around Tea to dance wantonly with her. He has to grit his teeth together and reel in the sudden urge to go to her and let this whole damn club know that Tea is off limits because she's his. But he can't.

Because she's not.

He watches her dancing with the little slut, hips gyrating together almost obscenely, and wonders if Tea'll take her home tonight for a night of meaningless screwing. If she knows that he doesn't want her to. If she realizes that he hasn't been with anyone but her since they got their act together. That if she takes this girl to her bed, it'll hurt him.

He hopes that she doesn't.

He hopes that she does.

Tony settles for watching, and hoping his conflicting hopes. And wanting her. All of her, in all the ways he knows he can't have her.

LINE BREAK

Maybe he can. The thought enters his head as she pulls him laughing from the club. She left nameless slut back on the dancefloor. She'd rather be with him. He kisses her, hungry and passionate, and she returns it with just as much fire. He's burning from the inside out with want and need and hope and, damn him, love.

He runs his hands over her, touching her just the way he knows she likes. Right on cue, she's moaning into his mouth, just a little more anxious to get to his place than she had been a second ago. He smirks into the kiss because he knows her so fucking well. He can tell you where to touch and how, all the ways to make her moan and writhe and scream.

Then she's slamming him against a wall, hard enough to hurt just the tiniest bit as she bites down on his bottom lip, and he remembers that she knows him just as well. They've been doing this for months now, seven actually, not that he's been paying attention or anything, and she knows his body and mind better than any other living soul and she can make screams tumble from his lips just as easily as he can pry them from hers.

"My place?" He gasps out when her mouth leaves his, even as he's rolling them so her back is against the wall. It's still a fight for control, and while he doesn't mind losing when it's her, he likes to win more.

Tea just nods, eager to get this show on the road. Tony really hopes that it has more to do with him than the actual sex.

But they're stumbling away from the club, hands touching, lips brushing, touch-touch-touching everything. Or maybe nothing. Tony can't tell any more. He just knows that this is the way they are, hands and lips and tongues and teeth.

The door shuts silently behind them, even as their laughter echoes through the house. They should be better at this by now, at the sneaking in and out. But it feels new every time, feels fun and free and real the way nothing else is in their worlds. Maybe that's why he loves her. Maybe that's why he can't stop.

"Shh." He shushes against her neck before biting down and making her moan. Clothes are falling off. Shirts and pants and underwear. Her nails bite into his skin; his hands leave the faintest beginnings of bruises on her hips. They fall into bed, remember to forget to remember to feel again.

He slides inside, hard and fast because gentle can wait, and they need this now. She muffles a cry against his shoulder and, his earlier warning already forgotten, he wants to hear her. Wants to memorize the sound of him and her the way they are now, in case they never are again.

He's scared of that now. The way he had been scared before about wanting this, he now fears losing it.

He wonders if she can feel it. The need, not the sexual one, he knows she can feel that, but the real one buried underneath it. The one that wants her to be his and only his forever. If she knows that he knows that he shouldn't, but he can't help himself.

"God, Tony..." She gasps out, coming hard around him, and he keeps at it, pounding in as hard as he can, trying to get so far inside she'll never get him out. And then his body is failing him, succumbing to the pleasure of having Tea wrapped so tightly around him.

He rests heavily on his elbows, hovering above her as they gasp for breath, and the words almost slip out. I love you creeping up from the back of mind and throat to the tip of his tongue. He wants to say it. He wants her to know just how much he needs her now. But he swallows the words back, nearly choking on them. He knows better than that.

He wants to say it.

But Tea doesn't want to hear it.