Page 33 of Speak in Fever
The woman doesn't seem deterred by Percy's lack of enthusiasm.
She leans closer, her hand sliding from his forearm to his shoulder, her body language clearly signaling romantic and sexual interest. When she laughs at something Percy says, the sound carries over the music—bright and calculated, designed to attract and maintain attention.
Rath feels something ugly and possessive twist in his chest as he watches her continuing efforts to claim Percy's attention.
The rational part of his brain knows this shouldn't bother him.
Percy is single, as far as Rath knows. He's an adult who can make his own decisions about who he talks to or goes home with.
The fact that Rath has been harboring increasingly complicated feelings about his captain doesn't give him any claim on Percy's attention or affection.
But watching her lean closer to Percy, watching her touch his arm and smile like she's already imagining how the night might end, makes jealousy flare hot and immediate in Rath's chest.
Percy glances toward the dance floor, and when his eyes find Rath's across the crowded club, there's something complicated in his expression that Rath can't quite read.
Not encouragement for the woman's attention, but not clear rejection either.
Just careful neutrality, like Percy is waiting to see how this situation develops before deciding how to respond.
The eye contact lasts longer than it should, long enough for the woman to notice Percy's distraction and follow his gaze.
When she spots Rath watching their interaction, her smile becomes sharper, more competitive.
She increases her efforts, leaning even closer to Percy and speaking directly into his ear.
"Hey, you good?" JP asks, appearing beside him at the bar.
Rath forces his attention away from Percy and the woman, trying to refocus on the conversation with JP. But his peripheral vision remains locked on their booth, tracking every movement and interaction.
"I'm fine," Rath lies, accepting a water bottle from the bartender with more force than necessary.
JP follows his gaze toward where the woman is now laughing at something Percy said, her body language clearly signaling interest and availability. "Ah. That."
"That what?" Rath asks, though he's pretty sure he doesn't want to hear the answer.
"Cap getting hit on by attractive strangers. Happens more often than you'd think." JP's tone is carefully neutral, but there's information embedded in the casual comment. "Usually handles it pretty well."
Usually. Which implies that Percy has experience with this situation, that attractive women approach him regularly, that this is just part of being a professional athlete that Rath somehow hadn't fully considered.
The realization hits Rath harder than it should. Percy is handsome, successful, and famous within hockey circles. Of course women approach him in clubs and bars. Of course he has options, opportunities, experiences that go beyond whatever confusion and attraction might be developing with Rath.
"Does he..." Rath starts, then stops, realizing he doesn't actually want to know the answer to questions about Percy's romantic or sexual history.
"Sometimes," JP says anyway, understanding the unfinished question. "Not often, but sometimes. When he's in the right mood."
The comment lands like a punch to Rath's gut. The idea of Percy being in the right mood for attractive strangers, of Percy taking women home from team celebrations, makes something cold and sharp settle in Rath's chest.
JP watches Rath's reaction with the analytical attention he brings to reading play development during games. "You know, if it matters to you, you could always do something about it."
"Like what?" Rath asks, hating how his voice sounds—smaller than he intended, more affected than he wants to admit.
"Like letting him know you're interested," JP suggests with a shrug that's too casual to be entirely innocent. "Sometimes people need clarity about where they stand."
Before Rath can respond, JP moves away to join another conversation, leaving Rath alone with his thoughts and the increasingly uncomfortable sight of the woman continuing her efforts to claim Percy's attention.
From across the club, Rath can see her hand moving to Percy's thigh, can see her leaning in close enough to whisper something in his ear.
Percy's discomfort is becoming more obvious to Rath, who's learned to read his captain's subtle expressions, but he's still being polite, still engaging in conversation instead of clearly extricating himself from the situation.
The woman's persistence is becoming more aggressive, more physically forward. Her hand remains on Percy's thigh despite his obvious lack of reciprocal touching, and she's positioned herself so that Percy would have to physically push her away to create distance.
"Fuck this," Rath mutters, and before his rational mind can catch up with his emotional response, he's moving through the crowd with single-minded determination.
The decision crystallizes suddenly, born from jealousy and protectiveness and the growing certainty that he can't stand watching someone else claim Percy's attention. JP's suggestion echoes in his mind—if you want something, sometimes you have to make it clear.
He weaves between dancers and around tables, his focus entirely on the booth where the woman is now practically pressed against Percy's side. The crowd seems to part naturally, responding to his purposeful movement and focused energy.
As Rath approaches, he catches fragments of the woman's conversation—compliments about Percy's performance tonight, suggestions about continuing the evening somewhere more private, questions about his hotel arrangements.
All delivered with the kind of confident assumption that most men would welcome such direct interest.
Percy catches sight of him approaching and there's something that looks like relief in his expression, but also confusion and anticipation.
Their eyes meet across the remaining distance, and Rath sees Percy's subtle nod—not encouragement exactly, but acknowledgment that whatever Rath is planning, Percy won't resist it.
"There you are," Rath says loudly enough for the woman to hear as he reaches their table. The endearment feels both natural and revolutionary, claiming intimacy he's not sure he has the right to claim. "Why are you still sitting by yourself?"
Before Percy can react, before his brain can catch up with what he's doing, Rath slides smoothly into Percy's lap, settling against him with the kind of casual intimacy that leaves no room for misinterpretation about their relationship.
The movement is fluid, practiced, like something they've done a hundred times before instead of never.
Rath's body fits perfectly against Percy's, settling into the space between Percy's thighs with natural ease.
The position is undeniably intimate, claiming Percy's attention and affection in a way that's both protective and possessive.
Percy goes completely still beneath him, his hands automatically coming up to steady Rath at his waist. The touch is warm and solid, broad palms spreading against Rath's ribs through his shirt. "Rath—"
"Miss me?" Rath asks, ignoring the way his heart is hammering against his ribs as he leans back against Percy's chest. He can feel the warmth radiating from Percy's body, can smell his cologne mixed with beer and something distinctly Percy.
The scent is familiar and intoxicating, reminding Rath of this morning's intimacy and the growing connection between them.
Percy's body beneath his is solid and warm, all controlled strength and careful restraint that makes Rath want to push further, to see what it would take to break Percy's professional composure.
The woman blinks, clearly taken aback by this development. Her confident smile falters as she processes the obvious claim Rath has just made, the casual intimacy that suggests established relationship rather than random hookup potential.
"Oh. I didn't realize you were…here with someone," she says, her tone shifting from flirtatious to slightly embarrassed.
"Yeah, we came together," Rath confirms, settling more comfortably in Percy's lap and trying not to think about how right this feels, how perfectly he fits against Percy's solid frame.
Percy's hands tighten slightly on Rath's waist, and Rath can feel the tension in his captain's body, can hear the slight change in his breathing that suggests Percy is just as affected by their proximity as Rath is.
The physical response is encouraging, suggesting that Percy's interest goes beyond polite tolerance for Rath's dramatic intervention.
"Right," the woman says, her confident smile completely gone now as she stands and gathers her purse. "Well, enjoy your evening."
She retreats with minimal grace, clearly unused to being dismissed so definitively. Her departure leaves Rath and Percy alone at the table, suddenly aware of their intimate positioning and the implications of what just happened.
The VIP section's ambient noise—conversations, laughter, music—seems to fade into background as Rath processes the reality of sitting in Percy's lap, of Percy's hands on his waist, of the way Percy's chest rises and falls against his back.
"Rath." Percy's voice is lower now, closer to Rath's ear, and the proximity sends a shiver down Rath's spine that has nothing to do with temperature. His hands feel huge on Rath's waist, warm and possessive in ways that make Rath's pulse race. "What are you doing?"
The question is reasonable, but Rath can hear the undercurrent of something else in Percy's tone—not disapproval exactly, but awareness of the line they've just crossed, the public nature of his claim.
"Rescuing you from unwanted attention," Rath says, trying to keep his voice casual despite the way his pulse is racing. "You looked uncomfortable."