Do Not Cross [Closed] - Printable Version
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Do Not Cross [Closed] - megs - 11-16-2014
"Of course not," he mumbles, though not necessarily to her. One of his thumbs tapped idly on the steering wheel; lips pressing together in a thin line. His steely gaze caught sight of her out of his peripherals briefly as she giggled. They quickly turned back to the road with an exaggerated roll. "No, I don't get bullied," he insists, defensively. His new expression was riding a fine line between a frown and a pout. "The lockers aren't even big enough..."
"You're here with me because you're manipulative," he corrects, pulling a hand from the steering wheel to move his glasses. Also, pretty - which helped in being entirely to persuasive, if nothing else. It certainly didn't help her mouth because she was remarkably capable of saying the entirely wrong thing at the wrong time.
There was no denying the reaction caused when an attractive woman implied that she was looking to suck a dick, or stated it outright. Grayson's method was to clear his throat loudly, and keep his eyes on the road. "Wow. You are not at all subtle, are you?" Her plan to distract him from her living situation had worked. "Looks like you're going to the club, because I sure as hell can't take you back to my house without looking like a fucking creep, now. So, that's cool."
Hands slid over the steering wheel as he took a turn deeper into the city. "I can't really use that as an excuse. I'm supposed to notice all the details," he was scolding himself, more than he was lecturing her. "Lycanthropes are werewolves." He was thinking about the case too hard to notice that she was probably misleading him. "Classy, white lady is actually extremely helpful." He sounded surprised to even be saying it.
Do Not Cross [Closed] - Tindome - 11-16-2014
"So they would totally put you in the lockers if they were big enough," she pressed, because she hadn't yet stopped being amused by small slights to his masculinity. Not having a cigarette meant she had nothing to do with her hands, and one of her fingers made its way into her mouth so she could bite down on one of her acrylics. She tended to be very hard on her fingernails, even when they were thick plastic.
She cackled again, crossing one of her legs over the other. "So, to be clear," she said, "when you were just a cop taking home a girl in a miniskirt you confused for a teenager at a crime scene, that was fine. But now that I've stated a clear desire to get in your pants, it's just way too creepy."
Not that she was actually going to hold it against him, since it was possible he just hadn't noticed how much she was flirting. That was part of why she liked to state her intentions openly, when her name suited it. No point getting her hopes up. Not that she couldn't have coaxed him into bed eventually regardless, but she wasn't quite in the mood for those kinds of games.
"Would it have been more or less creepy if I'd said I wanted to sit on someone's face?" she added with a cheshire grin. "Asking for an informal survey."
The nail she'd been biting at was beginning to come loose from her actual nail, and so she switched to a different one, though the smart thing to do would have been to stop doing it. "Are you supposed to be telling civilians about werewolves?" she wondered, genuinely.
She cackled again, crossing one of her legs over the other. "So, to be clear," she said, "when you were just a cop taking home a girl in a miniskirt you confused for a teenager at a crime scene, that was fine. But now that I've stated a clear desire to get in your pants, it's just way too creepy."
Not that she was actually going to hold it against him, since it was possible he just hadn't noticed how much she was flirting. That was part of why she liked to state her intentions openly, when her name suited it. No point getting her hopes up. Not that she couldn't have coaxed him into bed eventually regardless, but she wasn't quite in the mood for those kinds of games.
"Would it have been more or less creepy if I'd said I wanted to sit on someone's face?" she added with a cheshire grin. "Asking for an informal survey."
The nail she'd been biting at was beginning to come loose from her actual nail, and so she switched to a different one, though the smart thing to do would have been to stop doing it. "Are you supposed to be telling civilians about werewolves?" she wondered, genuinely.
Do Not Cross [Closed] - megs - 11-17-2014
Grayson scoffed. Not the best of all his biting comebacks, but he was running out of witty banter. He didn't know what it was about this woman that fizzled out his cool and collected nature and turned it into something speechless and stumbling. Maybe it was the curls. "No. That is not even remotely what I meant. Stop it."He wished she'd stop touching her mouth. Really wished she'd stop moving. She needed to stop making those fucking cat faces so fucking noticeable, and he needed to stop thinking about peeling them off of her.
Admittedly, it had not been his most flawless of plans at any angle. "I just sort of figured you were off your medication or something. Just all lost and crazy, running around by yourself. My plan was to keep you from getting raped, or murdered, or whatever, and call child services in the morning. Now, I know you're just insane."
He did not make a habit of taking women home. Especially not ones that wandered into crime scenes cool as a cucumber. He inwardly scolded himself for legitimately using cool as a cucumber to describe anyone. However, he made a bad habit of not being able to tell when he was being hit on, so her bluntness caught him out of left field. "When did you decide on my pants specifically?" That was not the right question to be asking, but it was the first one to escape. He actually sounded concerned, because at no point in time did he venture to make himself seem available.
Grayson groaned, hitting the back of his head against the headrest, grip tightening against the steering wheel. Knuckles turning white with the effort. "Stop talking." As always his tone was too quiet and relaxed to be even remotely authoritative. "That should always be an option on your surveys." He did not need to think about her sitting anywhere, but in that chair.
"I shouldn't be telling you about this werewolf, specifically," he admits, with a sigh of resignation, but thankful for the distraction. "Potential werewolf." He made another turn that was in the opposite direction of the venue she'd requested. All in all he was still settling for his plan Z, since she obviously needed a place to stay, he just kind of hoped to avoid her means of acquiring one. "Not in reference to the case, at least. Were-beings aren't exactly a big secret."
Do Not Cross [Closed] - Tindome - 11-17-2014
She laughed, because his flusterment was endearing in all the worst ways, the way he stopped trying to respond in kind as if it was all he could do not to lock her in the back seat. He kept looking in the vicinity of her knees out the corner of his eye, kept pretending he wasn't doing that as if he was trying to convince himself. Blood in the water, and she'd have circled him if she hadn't been buckled in.
"I confess I may have a few chemical imbalances," she said, as shameless as she was about everything else. "Nothing official, but if I had to guess I'd say I have a dopamine problem. Short attention span, poor impulse control, thrill-seeking behaviors. That kind of thing. I like to think it's part of my charm." She fluttered her eyelashes again, utterly ridiculous, and might have draped herself over the center console if she hadn't thought he might drive into a street sign. She settled for resting her most-recently-abused fingernail at the corner of her mouth, licking and biting her lower lip in equal measure, the sort of thing she could pretend to have done by accident.
"It might have been when you considered abandoning me to the streets rather than letting me think that you might like blowjobs," she teased, "or when you admitted you knew you were being manipulated, and you let me do it anyway. Or when you cared about my opinions, or got out your camera and gave me a nice view of your very cute butt. Or when you said you were a forensic investigator, which as a career path indicates a number of personality traits that I find extremely attractive. Or else you just showed up looking hot as hell, and all those other things are just me trying to justify my desire for you to hike my skirt up and rail my brains out."
She was kind enough to nearly stifle her giggle this time, unbridled glee at the way he seemed like he was trying to strangle the life out of the car. That really was the worst possible way to get her to stop. "I don't say things like that to just anyone, you know," she purred. "In case you were thinking I'm some kind of indiscriminate slut." Though he almost certainly hadn't been, not until she'd said it, because she had a hunch he wasn't the sort of man that thought those kinds of things, even about women like her. "As sluts go, I'm about as discriminate as they get."
Nadine leaned back in her seat, ran her hand through her hair as she looked out the window. They were going the wrong way for a night on the town, but she opted not to draw attention to his 'mistake'. "You say that," she said, "but you'd be amazed how many cities try to convince everyone they have a serious problem with wild animals."
"I confess I may have a few chemical imbalances," she said, as shameless as she was about everything else. "Nothing official, but if I had to guess I'd say I have a dopamine problem. Short attention span, poor impulse control, thrill-seeking behaviors. That kind of thing. I like to think it's part of my charm." She fluttered her eyelashes again, utterly ridiculous, and might have draped herself over the center console if she hadn't thought he might drive into a street sign. She settled for resting her most-recently-abused fingernail at the corner of her mouth, licking and biting her lower lip in equal measure, the sort of thing she could pretend to have done by accident.
"It might have been when you considered abandoning me to the streets rather than letting me think that you might like blowjobs," she teased, "or when you admitted you knew you were being manipulated, and you let me do it anyway. Or when you cared about my opinions, or got out your camera and gave me a nice view of your very cute butt. Or when you said you were a forensic investigator, which as a career path indicates a number of personality traits that I find extremely attractive. Or else you just showed up looking hot as hell, and all those other things are just me trying to justify my desire for you to hike my skirt up and rail my brains out."
She was kind enough to nearly stifle her giggle this time, unbridled glee at the way he seemed like he was trying to strangle the life out of the car. That really was the worst possible way to get her to stop. "I don't say things like that to just anyone, you know," she purred. "In case you were thinking I'm some kind of indiscriminate slut." Though he almost certainly hadn't been, not until she'd said it, because she had a hunch he wasn't the sort of man that thought those kinds of things, even about women like her. "As sluts go, I'm about as discriminate as they get."
Nadine leaned back in her seat, ran her hand through her hair as she looked out the window. They were going the wrong way for a night on the town, but she opted not to draw attention to his 'mistake'. "You say that," she said, "but you'd be amazed how many cities try to convince everyone they have a serious problem with wild animals."
Do Not Cross [Closed] - megs - 11-21-2014
Her laughter was appealing, he discovered, much to his chagrin. Only when she actually laughed; not that mischievous cackle she'd been so fond of in the beginning. Coincidentally, he was considering that locking her in the backseat would have been a much better option for his sanity. "Charm?" He shook his head, setting the longer parts out of sorts, but he immediately set them to rights with a brush of his hand. "If you consider this being charming then I'd hate to see you being anything else." He stopped at a red light, looking over just in time to watch her teeth press against her lower lip. He narrowed his eyes at her. "Stop it," he commands, again, in the same useless tone.
She actually managed to make him sound quite appealing as she began listing her reasons.
Well, fuck.
He should probably stop thinking the word 'fuck' if she was going to keep talking about doing just that. He fidgeted uncomfortably in the seat, before taking off as the light turned green. "You really don't have to go through all this for a place to stay," his advice was likely to fall on deaf ears. "You can drop the act."
"Well, I am honored to meet your specifications, if nothing else," he returns with a sigh, doing his best to ignore her sultry tone. As she touched her hair, he unnecessarily adjusted his glasses to keep from doing the same. He did his best to think more about the crime scene and less about whether the cascading ringlets were as soft as they looked.
"I'm not some jackass that sits behind a desk. It's not my job to convince everyone that shit's all cool in the neighborhood." There was really no need for him to explain himself or anything to her, but here he was running his mouth again. "Lying to people does not protect them."
He had driven them far enough from the city to avoid the noise, but not the lights. The skyline could still be seen shining in the distance when he finally pulled into a driveway. The house it belonged to was a white-washed Colonial looking thing that was well-kept, and cozy. It begged for a yard full of children and puppies, of which Grayson had neither. He turned off the car and began gathering his things. "Out," he commands, before throwing open the door and exiting the vehicle.
Do Not Cross [Closed] - Tindome - 11-21-2014
"You really would," she agreed. "I can be just awful, when I put my mind to it." She could also be much sweeter, much lovelier. But men like this didn't like girls like that, not really, not for what she wanted. Maybe that was what appealed, that she could be so much more herself. A very good liar, but it was nice not to need to.
"I'm not acting," she said, though that wasn't quite true. She was always acting, almost always, that was how she existed. Adaptation was the default, molding herself to her company, choosing her personality by choosing companions that she liked herself with. Changing what she liked on a whim, changing partners, changing personalities. All things to all people, but all of them ultimately selfish and frivolous and gleeful.
"I dislike the suggestion that I'm offering sex in exchange for a place to stay," she continued. "I'm not a whore; I'm offering to exchange sex for sex. If you're hoping to find hidden depths, you've got the wrong girl. I'm exactly the silly bit of fluff you'd expect to have thighs like these." She tapped her fingers on the noses of the kittens on her stockings.
Maybe more clever than she pretended to be, but that was mostly for convenience's sake. People had a hard time reconciling her preferred lifestyle with cleverness. Smart girls didn't drink cheap liquor at loud nightclubs, didn't fuck strangers in alleys, definitely didn't flirt with cops at crime scenes or let men take them to a second location.
Even if it was one hell of a quaint second location. Just the sight of it was making her arms itch, made her want to climb out one of the windows to get somewhere the air didn't smell quite so clean. "So are you head of the homeowner's association," she asked as she climbed out of the car to follow him, "or do you just wish you were?"
"I'm not acting," she said, though that wasn't quite true. She was always acting, almost always, that was how she existed. Adaptation was the default, molding herself to her company, choosing her personality by choosing companions that she liked herself with. Changing what she liked on a whim, changing partners, changing personalities. All things to all people, but all of them ultimately selfish and frivolous and gleeful.
"I dislike the suggestion that I'm offering sex in exchange for a place to stay," she continued. "I'm not a whore; I'm offering to exchange sex for sex. If you're hoping to find hidden depths, you've got the wrong girl. I'm exactly the silly bit of fluff you'd expect to have thighs like these." She tapped her fingers on the noses of the kittens on her stockings.
Maybe more clever than she pretended to be, but that was mostly for convenience's sake. People had a hard time reconciling her preferred lifestyle with cleverness. Smart girls didn't drink cheap liquor at loud nightclubs, didn't fuck strangers in alleys, definitely didn't flirt with cops at crime scenes or let men take them to a second location.
Even if it was one hell of a quaint second location. Just the sight of it was making her arms itch, made her want to climb out one of the windows to get somewhere the air didn't smell quite so clean. "So are you head of the homeowner's association," she asked as she climbed out of the car to follow him, "or do you just wish you were?"
Do Not Cross [Closed] - megs - 11-22-2014
For the most part, Grayson kept quiet. It really was the best way to refrain from making further comments on her personality - or her thighs. Two things he really did not need to draw more attention to. Kittens continued to taunt him from the opposite side of the car. He was doing a great job of pretending he did not want to participate in all of her suggestions, when his feelings were the exact opposite. If she continued being all talk and less action, he was blissfully safe.
"I was not calling you a whore," he corrects automatically, as if he were the one that had any place to be offended. Another adjustment to his glasses, more brushing back his hair. "I may have just implied that you acted like one."
Great job. He was screaming internally. That was not better. What happened to the part where he was going to stop talking?
He didn't know her, but he liked something about her and that bothered him. She was distracting enough to take his mind from where it usually wandered and that was somewhat of a relief. One could only spend so much time thinking about other people they couldn't get close to without driving themselves mad. However, thinking about how he wasn't thinking about certain things, got him thinking about them again and his features hardened. Being faerie-charmed was not all the beauty and magic it was made out to be.
His sarcastic laughter trailed him as he made his way up the steps to the front porch. He shifted the pile of files, and camera, and coat the best he could to shove the key into the lock. "Shut up, it's not like that," he was not as defensive with this explanation as he'd been with all the others. Pushing the door open with his hip, he walked inside as if he expected her to follow. "It's about space, but if you'd rather stay the night as some dingy apartment in the city with some sleazeball, speak up now, and I would be more than happy to call you a cab."
The inside of the house was everything the outside would make you expect, the surprising part was it was actually decorated like a real person lived in it, not just a big, lonely jerk. There were pictures of people; parents, siblings: apparently he'd not just spawned out of the blue, grumpy and rude one day.
Items would be left on the kitchen island in an unceremonious heap. With a sigh, he leaned his butt against it and fiddled disinterestedly with his striped tie. "There's a guestroom if you want it. I am assuming you've gotten all the sexual innuendo out of your system?" He looked up from the fabric to spare her a glance, that turned into a flickering of his eyes over her entirety.
Do Not Cross [Closed] - Tindome - 11-22-2014
"Is that all?" she laughed, and it was tempting to ruffle his hair back into disarray. "Well if you just think I act like a whore, that's completely different. Obviously." He was unbelievably bad at this, but in a way that she actually quite enjoyed. Intelligent people made it so much easier to tell when they were getting flustered, because they suddenly turned into idiots.
"So you are the head of the homeowner's association," she said as she followed him, crossing her arms across her ribcage. "How long did it take you to decide on the ideal number of centimeters for the length of grass? More, or less than a month? I'm guessing there was extensive research involved."
From an objective perspective she knew everyone's needs were different. Some people needed space. Some people didn't like living with other people, near other people. Some people liked having possessions, didn't feel the need to be ready to leave everything at a moment's notice. Most people, probably.
Still, the men who lived in houses like this weren't usually the ones who wanted to bring her home, and if they were, they weren't usually the kind she'd want to come home with. Photographs on the wall, actual framed photographs with sentimental value. "I don't know why you assume that for me to like it the apartment has to have dinge," she murmured, taking in the details of the room. "I prefer my balls without sleaze, as a general rule."
She stopped a few feet short of him as he set his things down, clasped her hands behind her back and rocked on wobbly heels so that he could take a good long look at her. Having no shortage of self-esteem, she liked being looked at, particularly if it felt like admiration. Even if it was secret admiration.
"You seem really determined to convince me that you don't want to have sex with me," she said finally. "Except you haven't actually said that you don't, or else I would have left you alone by now." She stepped closer, slow and deliberate steps that had her legs crossing over each other, until she could reach out and grab hold of his tie. "So," she said, catching grey eyes with green, "if you really don't want my legs around your waist, if you're absolutely not interested in my face in your lap, if you aren't even particularly tempted by the thought of giving me the spanking I've practically been begging for – say it. I don't want to fuck you. Look me in the eye and say it, and I'll go straight to a bed that isn't yours like a good girl."
She smelled, she knew, like appletinis and cigarette smoke, like smog, like glittery green apple body spray that a grown woman absolutely should not have been wearing. She was not a traditional beauty nor a prototypical fantasy, neither beauty nor grace, the very opposite of class. She was not a woman that men imagined themselves with, not until they'd met her; she was dark-skinned and bright-eyed, all hard edges and sharp angles with as few curves as puberty could have given her, all the least forgiving kinds of femininity. But damned if she wasn't good at getting what she wanted.
"So you are the head of the homeowner's association," she said as she followed him, crossing her arms across her ribcage. "How long did it take you to decide on the ideal number of centimeters for the length of grass? More, or less than a month? I'm guessing there was extensive research involved."
From an objective perspective she knew everyone's needs were different. Some people needed space. Some people didn't like living with other people, near other people. Some people liked having possessions, didn't feel the need to be ready to leave everything at a moment's notice. Most people, probably.
Still, the men who lived in houses like this weren't usually the ones who wanted to bring her home, and if they were, they weren't usually the kind she'd want to come home with. Photographs on the wall, actual framed photographs with sentimental value. "I don't know why you assume that for me to like it the apartment has to have dinge," she murmured, taking in the details of the room. "I prefer my balls without sleaze, as a general rule."
She stopped a few feet short of him as he set his things down, clasped her hands behind her back and rocked on wobbly heels so that he could take a good long look at her. Having no shortage of self-esteem, she liked being looked at, particularly if it felt like admiration. Even if it was secret admiration.
"You seem really determined to convince me that you don't want to have sex with me," she said finally. "Except you haven't actually said that you don't, or else I would have left you alone by now." She stepped closer, slow and deliberate steps that had her legs crossing over each other, until she could reach out and grab hold of his tie. "So," she said, catching grey eyes with green, "if you really don't want my legs around your waist, if you're absolutely not interested in my face in your lap, if you aren't even particularly tempted by the thought of giving me the spanking I've practically been begging for – say it. I don't want to fuck you. Look me in the eye and say it, and I'll go straight to a bed that isn't yours like a good girl."
She smelled, she knew, like appletinis and cigarette smoke, like smog, like glittery green apple body spray that a grown woman absolutely should not have been wearing. She was not a traditional beauty nor a prototypical fantasy, neither beauty nor grace, the very opposite of class. She was not a woman that men imagined themselves with, not until they'd met her; she was dark-skinned and bright-eyed, all hard edges and sharp angles with as few curves as puberty could have given her, all the least forgiving kinds of femininity. But damned if she wasn't good at getting what she wanted.
Do Not Cross [Closed] - megs - 11-24-2014
"Just forget I said anything," he insists, pointedly- obviously frustrated. A manifestation of her grating personality and his slow descent into nonsensical babbling. He really wanted to get off the subject of her sexual tendencies. Whorish or not. "Shut up," he repeats, this time in the form of a loud grown. He wouldn't elaborate that there was no HOA. That he just lived in a nice suburb not a gated community. Nor would he allow that to be elaborated into city codes and code enforcement, or talk about how he didn't even do his own yard work.
How could someone so annoying be so appealing?
"I am mostly assuming the men you like to go home with have dingy apartments. How you feel about the apartment really has nothing to do with it. I don't imagine you're getting to attached to a one night stand."
He didn't comment on the second part. He'd already done way more talking to this woman than he had ever intended. That last statement being the most amount of words he'd managed to string together in a single instance.
He slid the fabric of his tie between his fingers as he watched her. It was easy enough to see that she was putting on a show; to see that she liked being watched. She moved closer to him in the same way a wildcat stalks prey, it made his mouth run dry and he swallowed hard as she began speaking.
When she grabbed his tie, he released immediately as just touching her skin threatened to burn him. He appeared as if she had him pinned to the kitchen counter rather then leaning against it.
When she caught his gaze, he dropped his to the point where she held his tie. He was silent for a few heartbeats when she finally stopped speaking, finished laying out her ultimatums. He could barely look her in the eye period. Let alone look her in the eye and lie to her.
The smallest of smiles turned the corner of his mouth and he shook his head once. He pushed himself away from the counter and walked towards her, forcing her to take steps back lest he run into her. When she was backed up against the wall, he towered over her; still silent, simply looking down at her as if he was observing. Eventually, he placed his hands on either side of her neck, brushing thumbs over the hollow of her throat.
"Has anyone ever told you that you talk too fucking much?" His hands slid over her shoulders, down her arms until long digits could encircle slender wrists. He lifted her arms above her head, pinning them against the wall. She smelled syrupy sweet and he found himself wondering if she tasted the same. His voice was a low murmur by the time he spoke again. "That aside, I doubt you're truly capable of being a good girl."
He'd never had any intention to kiss her, but when he did it was hard press of lips as if he had been eager to do so all night. She tasted as cloyingly saccharine as he had imagined.
Do Not Cross [Closed] - Tindome - 11-24-2014
It was hard to do anything but giggle gleefully as he descended into inarticulate scolding. "You're a man I came home with," she pointed out, "and you don't have a dingy apartment." She neither confirmed nor denied the fleeting nature of her affections, because that could be astonishingly variable, an ongoing calculation taking into account how much fun she was having and how much she could get away with.
She didn't hold her breath while she waited for an answer, but she very nearly did. In the resulting quiet she could have heard a pin drop; it was the quietest Dean had been since she'd met the poor man. She hoped that she hadn't miscalculated. She'd been trying to push him, yes, but to try and draw him out, not push him inward.
But then that smile. It could hardly even be called a smile, the way the muscles of his face barely even moved, but it was absolutely a smile. When he pushed himself away from the counter, she took a step back, but kept her hold on his tie; as he backed her against the wall, it gave her the slight illusion that she was leading him on. And it kept her from tipping backward.
The slightest frisson of fear as she was cornered, trapped and watched and not a word spoken. Fear may not have been the right word, the thrill she associated with fast cars and rollercoasters and occasional consensual sexual menace. When his hands went to her neck, what might have been as gasp emerged instead as a sigh, grip around his tie tightening though she didn't pull.
"Constantly," she breathed, releasing him as he captured her wrists, biting her lip and rolling back her shoulders as he pinned her arms above her head. The too-large sleeves of her sweater slid down nearly to her elbows, bracelets at the middle of slender forearms, and she didn't bother denying that goodness was not an attribute that would ever stick. She did let her eyes go wide, and her mouth go soft, and for a second it was possible to believe that she might be sweet.
She kissed him back like she needed him to breathe, like he was the only thing in the world that mattered; she hummed a happy sound into his mouth, like she'd be singing if she could.
She didn't hold her breath while she waited for an answer, but she very nearly did. In the resulting quiet she could have heard a pin drop; it was the quietest Dean had been since she'd met the poor man. She hoped that she hadn't miscalculated. She'd been trying to push him, yes, but to try and draw him out, not push him inward.
But then that smile. It could hardly even be called a smile, the way the muscles of his face barely even moved, but it was absolutely a smile. When he pushed himself away from the counter, she took a step back, but kept her hold on his tie; as he backed her against the wall, it gave her the slight illusion that she was leading him on. And it kept her from tipping backward.
The slightest frisson of fear as she was cornered, trapped and watched and not a word spoken. Fear may not have been the right word, the thrill she associated with fast cars and rollercoasters and occasional consensual sexual menace. When his hands went to her neck, what might have been as gasp emerged instead as a sigh, grip around his tie tightening though she didn't pull.
"Constantly," she breathed, releasing him as he captured her wrists, biting her lip and rolling back her shoulders as he pinned her arms above her head. The too-large sleeves of her sweater slid down nearly to her elbows, bracelets at the middle of slender forearms, and she didn't bother denying that goodness was not an attribute that would ever stick. She did let her eyes go wide, and her mouth go soft, and for a second it was possible to believe that she might be sweet.
She kissed him back like she needed him to breathe, like he was the only thing in the world that mattered; she hummed a happy sound into his mouth, like she'd be singing if she could.
Do Not Cross [Closed] - megs - 11-25-2014
He looked up and away from her to sweep his gaze across his relatively normal living arrangement. "Yeah, I am still trying to figure that one out," he counters, clawing fingers through dark locks. "I cheat though," his glasses would be adjusted before his hand would rest on the counter once more. " I have a housekeeper. So, who knows what this place would really look like."Having her backed against the wall, staring up at him with springing curls and dark skin, close enough to touch caused his pulse to start pounding. He could hear it rushing past his ears in the brief moments that they said nothing. When he first touched her, he found he liked the way her fingers tightened around his tie in silent anticipation.
"Yeah, I thought so." Grayson made a bad habit of making sure he had the last word, but it had been that widening of her eyes, that previously unseen softness in the curves of her mouth that had done him in.
That small, triumphant noise she made vibrated against his lips as they moved against hers. He released her wrists as if he expected her hands to stay where he had put them, so fingertips could trail over noisy bangles, and the strip of skin above the sleeve of her sweater. They moved lower, still, but he didn't stop kissing her. He drew his hands under her sweater and up her sides, thumbs brushing over her rib cage. He was determined to touch every inch of her.
When he was tired of leaning, tired of not being able to press her body against his, he broke the seal of their mouths with a shuddering inhale. As if somewhere in the act he'd forgotten how to breathe. He pulled one hand from her shirt, to cup her chin and run his thumb over her slowly reddening bottom lip. It was a surprisingly affectionate gesture from someone that had been cursing her minutes before. "Bedroom. Now." The grating roughness that had somehow found it's way into his voice, was the most commanding he had been all night. The other hand finally removed itself from where it had been trailing small paths over her abdomen to point down the hall.
Do Not Cross [Closed] - Tindome - 11-25-2014
There was a hunger in his eyes that was driving a hunger of her own, and there were clever things she could say, but she kept them to herself. A mental note to tease him later, that he was spoiled or a secret slob, that he somehow managed to be even whiter metaphorically than he was literally. And a note that he liked it when she let herself look vulnerable, though whether for its own merits or as a contrast she couldn't be sure.
She guessed it was the contrast. If she'd been softness from the start, she doubted he'd have even bothered bringing her home.
Nadine pressed the backs of her hands against the wall, pushed like she was trying to knock it down to force them to remain still. It was tempting, unbelievably tempting, to tangle her fingers in his hair, drag her nails along his scalp. The way he'd held her had been an order, and she was capable of obedience, when it suited her; when doing what he asked got her what she wanted.
His hands slid beneath her sweater, nothing but skin against skin, and she arched against his hands. The hand that slid along her left side wouldn't be able to feel the ink there, but he'd feel the scars that ink hid, ragged lines from her ribs to her hipbone. She didn't think of herself as delicate, small though she was, but her skin tended to scar dramatically when damaged, keloids that tattoos could never really hide. Her skin was more sensitive near the edges of it, and the fingertips brushing along it made her breath catch in her throat.
Eyes opened as they separated, and she too took a long breath as he traced the shape of her mouth. His order made that mouth blossom into a grin, and as long as she was moving anyway, she threw her arms around his shoulders to play with his hair, kiss his chin. That tone of voice made her want to squeal with delight, but that seemed probably unsettling. "Yes, sir," she said instead, and she imbued the words with astonishing amounts of insubordination as she slid away from him and down the hall.
Dean did not so much climb into his bed as leap, twisting so she'd land on her back, giggling as she sprawled herself out. As much as she could sprawl, anyway, when tight leather kept her legs together, very much the opposite of what she wanted.
She guessed it was the contrast. If she'd been softness from the start, she doubted he'd have even bothered bringing her home.
Nadine pressed the backs of her hands against the wall, pushed like she was trying to knock it down to force them to remain still. It was tempting, unbelievably tempting, to tangle her fingers in his hair, drag her nails along his scalp. The way he'd held her had been an order, and she was capable of obedience, when it suited her; when doing what he asked got her what she wanted.
His hands slid beneath her sweater, nothing but skin against skin, and she arched against his hands. The hand that slid along her left side wouldn't be able to feel the ink there, but he'd feel the scars that ink hid, ragged lines from her ribs to her hipbone. She didn't think of herself as delicate, small though she was, but her skin tended to scar dramatically when damaged, keloids that tattoos could never really hide. Her skin was more sensitive near the edges of it, and the fingertips brushing along it made her breath catch in her throat.
Eyes opened as they separated, and she too took a long breath as he traced the shape of her mouth. His order made that mouth blossom into a grin, and as long as she was moving anyway, she threw her arms around his shoulders to play with his hair, kiss his chin. That tone of voice made her want to squeal with delight, but that seemed probably unsettling. "Yes, sir," she said instead, and she imbued the words with astonishing amounts of insubordination as she slid away from him and down the hall.
Dean did not so much climb into his bed as leap, twisting so she'd land on her back, giggling as she sprawled herself out. As much as she could sprawl, anyway, when tight leather kept her legs together, very much the opposite of what she wanted.
Do Not Cross [Closed] - megs - 11-30-2014
The lines of the scar were noticeable beneath his hands. Rough trails of scar tissue against otherwise smooth skin. He gave little thought to the nature of the markings; he was much more interested in the way she moved against his hands, when finger tips brushed over the raised edges. He released her chin when she draped arms over his shoulders, and pressed a kiss to his chin. He would have rolled his eyes at her choice of affirmation, had she not actually seemed relatively genuine in the phrase. He straightened his posture, so she could be free from the wall and watched her without words as she disappeared down the hall.
She was briefly out of his presence and Grayson felt like he could think again. He pushed fingers through his hair, shaking his head simultaneously as if he still couldn't believe what he was doing. Why this woman? His thoughts sounded more like a scolding. There was very little about her personality that appealed. But at the same time there were things about it that Grayson found himself attracted to. Digits worked to further loosen his tie as she proceeded to follow her down the same hall.
He appeared in the bedroom door, with a smirk to his features, finding her draped across the comforter. He pulled off his tie, tossing it to crumble atop a dresser and then he kicked off his shoes. He decided to test how obedient she was feeling. Always a scientist, everything was a potential experiment, and sex was one of the best motivators. "Everything off," he commands in that less-than-commanding tone. "But leave the stockings," he adds as an afterthought. He unbuttoned his own shirt with deliberate slowness.
Do Not Cross [Closed] - Tindome - 11-30-2014
Sitting upright, she pouted dramatically, though there was a gleam in her eye as she watched him slowly undress. "I was hoping," she sighed, unlacing both her shoes at once and kicking them off, "that you were going to want to rip my clothes off." She swiveled her legs so they were underneath her, rose up on her knees and pulled her sweater over her head in one smooth motion. She wasn't wearing anything under it, because she wasn't that pleasantly soft kind of slender; she had the kind of slenderness that meant seeing her ribcage, the clear outline of her collarbones, her breasts perky because there was not enough of them for gravity to be an issue. She shook her head to get her curls out of her face, hooking a finger around her ear to get the cuff from it and toss it aside.
Leaning back to unzip her skirt meant arching her back, moving her hips in as she peeled tight leather away from skin, and she watched him as she did it. As skirt and panties both were wrapped around her thighs, she stopped long enough to reach into her pocket, retrieving crinkling little packets of condoms and excessively cutesy looking dental dams. She held them in her mouth, though not with her teeth, as she swiveled her legs again to get that last bit of clothing off her. She had not a single hair on her below her neck, an almost unnatural lack of even stubble, not even on her arms. Perched on the edge of his bed, she crossed her right leg over her left, hummed around a mouthful of prophylactics and swayed absentmindedly to the tune as she began removing rings and bracelets. Jewelry was added piece by piece to a pile on the floor, and she had no intention of taking her glasses off any time soon, not until he was near enough to see without them.
Leaning back to unzip her skirt meant arching her back, moving her hips in as she peeled tight leather away from skin, and she watched him as she did it. As skirt and panties both were wrapped around her thighs, she stopped long enough to reach into her pocket, retrieving crinkling little packets of condoms and excessively cutesy looking dental dams. She held them in her mouth, though not with her teeth, as she swiveled her legs again to get that last bit of clothing off her. She had not a single hair on her below her neck, an almost unnatural lack of even stubble, not even on her arms. Perched on the edge of his bed, she crossed her right leg over her left, hummed around a mouthful of prophylactics and swayed absentmindedly to the tune as she began removing rings and bracelets. Jewelry was added piece by piece to a pile on the floor, and she had no intention of taking her glasses off any time soon, not until he was near enough to see without them.
Do Not Cross [Closed] - megs - 12-05-2014
Grayson watched her undress because she was making a show of it. A production of dark skin, and long legs that easily drew his attention. He busied his hands with buttons, because all he really wanted to do was run them over the skin she was revealing. "I know what you were hoping," his words held the barest hint of amusement. "But I quite think I have catered to you enough for one night." The shirt slipped off his shoulders and he pulled it off his arms, allowing it to drop to the floor. Belt would be unbuckled and removed as he walked closer to the bed, and her. He stood at the foot of the bed as she rose to remove her skirt. He kept watching as she followed his directions, the same nonexistent smile as before.
When she was sitting again, removing jewelry at a pace that he had no patience for, he pulled the collection of protective measures from her mouth, making a mental note that she seemed to hum when she was pleased with something. He sorted through them, while bangles fell into a noisy pile on his floor. He absolutely refused to be amused by the fact the most of the items seemed to be decorated, so he settled for slowly shaking his head as if to imply he wasn't surprised.
He chose a condom that least looked like it had been designed by a Japanese schoolgirl and dropped the rest of the items to the floor, to join the growing collection of random things on his usually uncluttered carpet. He looked down at her for a moment, the desire in his gaze was as obvious as the growing erection pressing against his jeans. He waved his unoccupied hand to a vague area behind her. "Middle of the bed," he orders, even-toned as always, dropping the condom upon the comforter. "Lay down, legs spread."