Do Not Cross [Closed] - Printable Version
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Do Not Cross [Closed] - Tindome - 12-05-2014
Dean hummed her agreement, insofar as she could when she could not speak. When he took the wrappers out of her mouth she grinned, wide and predatory. "You wouldn't want to spoil me," she agreed, though her husky tone suggested she had not yet even begun to get what she wanted. She was leaning forward, clearly trying to get as close to him as she could without touching him. So many places she wanted to kiss him, but playing bossy meant she'd have to wait.
She'd coax him into using that belt on her later, maybe. For now, she'd play nice.
He was trying not to say anything about the cutesy condoms, like he hadn't said anything about her tattoos, still hadn't commented on her stockings. If he kept biting his tongue, it was going to fall right out of his mouth. He picked the least interesting of them as she removed her last bracelet, and she laughed. "Aww – no cat face? I thought we could match." She was not remotely surprised that he'd draw the line at fucking a woman in kitten stockings with little whiskers on his cock, but she still thought it would have been funny.
Patience was not one of her virtues, not really. Hunger in his eyes, and the temptation was to ignore his request and pounce him, grab him through his jeans and make him kiss her again. She wanted to, and the wanting was obvious, the way she ran the tip of her tongue over her mouth, splayed her fingers over the comforter like she was bracing herself. "That," she said finally, "sounds disappointingly missionary."
Nadine pulled her knees close to her chest so she could place her feet on the edge of the bed. She stood, and for the briefest of moments she was on a strange sort of display, before sticking her arms straight out and falling backward. Her curls bounced, along with the rest of her, and she wiggled to make herself a comfortable spot in the disarray she'd made of his comforter.
"And that isn't very specific," she added, as if this was any time to be critiquing his technique. "I mean, did you mean like this," she wondered, bending her knees and planting her feet flat on the mattress, arching her back with her hands above her head like she was ready to wrap her legs around his waist. "Or were you thinking more like," she continued, splaying her limbs out like he'd tied her to the corners of it, going so far as to point her toes. "Or else you might have meant this," she said, curling her arms under her head while her legs formed a straight line on either side of her, as spread as was physically possible without dislocating her joints, "but honestly I think this looks pretty dumb, so it's probably not what you meant."
She'd coax him into using that belt on her later, maybe. For now, she'd play nice.
He was trying not to say anything about the cutesy condoms, like he hadn't said anything about her tattoos, still hadn't commented on her stockings. If he kept biting his tongue, it was going to fall right out of his mouth. He picked the least interesting of them as she removed her last bracelet, and she laughed. "Aww – no cat face? I thought we could match." She was not remotely surprised that he'd draw the line at fucking a woman in kitten stockings with little whiskers on his cock, but she still thought it would have been funny.
Patience was not one of her virtues, not really. Hunger in his eyes, and the temptation was to ignore his request and pounce him, grab him through his jeans and make him kiss her again. She wanted to, and the wanting was obvious, the way she ran the tip of her tongue over her mouth, splayed her fingers over the comforter like she was bracing herself. "That," she said finally, "sounds disappointingly missionary."
Nadine pulled her knees close to her chest so she could place her feet on the edge of the bed. She stood, and for the briefest of moments she was on a strange sort of display, before sticking her arms straight out and falling backward. Her curls bounced, along with the rest of her, and she wiggled to make herself a comfortable spot in the disarray she'd made of his comforter.
"And that isn't very specific," she added, as if this was any time to be critiquing his technique. "I mean, did you mean like this," she wondered, bending her knees and planting her feet flat on the mattress, arching her back with her hands above her head like she was ready to wrap her legs around his waist. "Or were you thinking more like," she continued, splaying her limbs out like he'd tied her to the corners of it, going so far as to point her toes. "Or else you might have meant this," she said, curling her arms under her head while her legs formed a straight line on either side of her, as spread as was physically possible without dislocating her joints, "but honestly I think this looks pretty dumb, so it's probably not what you meant."
Do Not Cross [Closed] - megs - 12-14-2014
Grayson was wordless, as he tended to be more often than not. He watched her, almost intently, even managing to resist the urge to roll his eyes because that would mean taking them off of her. She was beyond annoying, mouthy and demanding, but that didn't mean she wasn't worth looking at. Her complaints about missionary seemed to fall on deaf ears, his response was to push her shoes out of the way with his foot so he could move closer to the end of the bed when she moved away from it. If he was at all impressed by her display of flexibility, he didn't show it. Unless you counted the way his brown rose, and the way he clawed fingers through his bangs.
"That does look pretty dumb," he agrees, breaking his silence for the first time. He leaned forward and gathered both of her ankles in either hand. He pulled her closer, dragging her form across the bed as if she weighed nothing at all. It immediately invalidated his prior instructions, but she seemed worried that he was inclined to be boring, and he wouldn't have that. He dropped her legs over the edge of the bed, freeing up his hands so he could smooth fingertips over her thighs. They drew up in slow patterns across her hips and her ribs; they just barely brushed over her breasts before he captured her wrists and pinned them above her head. He had one knee between her legs, so he could keep his balance and hover over her.
"Do you really think I would waste your time with something like missionary?" He had leaned lower, lips brushing against hers as he spoke. He was very deliberately not touching her with anything other than large hands wrapped around slender wrists. "I'm almost offended."
Do Not Cross [Closed] - Tindome - 12-14-2014
She laughed when he agreed with her, in part because she hadn't expected him to tell a woman spreading her legs in his bed that she looked dumb. It was the way he said it as much as anything, just as frazzled and short with her as ever. She had a suspicion that his 'impractical sexual positions' voice sounded very similar to his 'trying on silly hats' voice. He probably didn't have any silly hats that she could test the theory with.
Laughter gave way to a squeal of delight as his fingers wrapped around her ankles and pulled her across the bed. Her curls were now a dark halo around her head, and she sighed as he ran his hands over her legs. She rocked her hips with a hint of a pout as he skimmed over them, trying and failing to get him to touch her where she wanted. Then he was close enough to taste, and the only thing that kept her from kissing him was a desire not to interrupt his rare use of more than three words.
"You live in a suburb," she pointed out against his mouth, managing to sound husky instead of indignant. "Do I look like I know what you'd like?" She smiled, coy, arched her back to try to bring her body nearer to his. "Sitcoms and potato salad and missionary through a hole in the sheets seemed like as good a guess as any." Thick eyelashes fluttered impishly, and if he wasn't offended already he certainly should have been now.
Laughter gave way to a squeal of delight as his fingers wrapped around her ankles and pulled her across the bed. Her curls were now a dark halo around her head, and she sighed as he ran his hands over her legs. She rocked her hips with a hint of a pout as he skimmed over them, trying and failing to get him to touch her where she wanted. Then he was close enough to taste, and the only thing that kept her from kissing him was a desire not to interrupt his rare use of more than three words.
"You live in a suburb," she pointed out against his mouth, managing to sound husky instead of indignant. "Do I look like I know what you'd like?" She smiled, coy, arched her back to try to bring her body nearer to his. "Sitcoms and potato salad and missionary through a hole in the sheets seemed like as good a guess as any." Thick eyelashes fluttered impishly, and if he wasn't offended already he certainly should have been now.
Do Not Cross [Closed] - megs - 12-20-2014
Grayson chuckled at her suggestions, only uttered to be offensive, which seemed to be her usual goal. He kissed her briefly, rewarding the way she arched beneath him, by transferring one of her wrists to the other hand. "I don't watch television," he explains, his right hand now free to slide back down her arm. His mouth was on hers again as he cupped the soft mound of her breast with his hand. "I find potato salad to be a necessary evil at holiday picnics and office potlucks." He pinched her nipple between forefinger and thumb as his mouth trailed lower, kisses were now being pressed to her neck and the curve of her shoulder. Wherever he had found all these words from was a mystery. Apparently, he was capable of uttering more than annoyed scoffs and adamant denials.
"I live in a suburb because it's easy." he insists, managing to sound disgruntled even though it was little more than a murmur, hot against her skin. "I can be alone in a suburb, if need be." He pulled his mouth away from her neck, lifting his head to look down at her. Even as his hand fell from her breast to disappear between their bodies, he spoke normally as if he was doing nothing at all. "It lacks the constant noise, and brightness of the city." His index finger traced her opening, but did not slip inside, instead slid upward, seeking loftier goals. "Suburbs are boring," his fingertip ran slow cirlces against her clit as he spoke. "But cities have a dullness all their own."
Do Not Cross [Closed] - Tindome - 12-28-2014
"Mmph." If all she had to do to earn kisses was to insult him, this was going to go well indeed. "Fuckin' hipster," she accused in a murmur, arching her back to press her breast harder against his palm. Not that she had any room to talk, but hypocrisy was funny and so she did not shy away from it. She gasped and giggled as his fingers closed around the peak of her breast, mouth trailed down along her skin. It was a low and husky and approving sound, not the girlish taunting she'd been doing before, and she tilted her head to give him better access to her neck.
The hand holding her arms above her head kept her from getting to touch him, which was deliciously frustrating. Her hips rocked the instant his fingers were in even the general vicinity of where she wanted, again when they slid teasingly between her lips. An awful tease, and she regretted utterly having initiated a conversation about anything but fucking her brains out.
She bit down on her lip, squirmed to try and grind against that agonizingly slow fingertip. "You sound like you're – nnn – trying to sell me real estate." A chuckle mingled with a breathless sigh. "I'm not here t– ooh – fuck your house." She craned her neck to nip at the air between them, a loud click of her teeth, and she grinned even as her spine moved in a sine wave against his mattress.
The hand holding her arms above her head kept her from getting to touch him, which was deliciously frustrating. Her hips rocked the instant his fingers were in even the general vicinity of where she wanted, again when they slid teasingly between her lips. An awful tease, and she regretted utterly having initiated a conversation about anything but fucking her brains out.
She bit down on her lip, squirmed to try and grind against that agonizingly slow fingertip. "You sound like you're – nnn – trying to sell me real estate." A chuckle mingled with a breathless sigh. "I'm not here t– ooh – fuck your house." She craned her neck to nip at the air between them, a loud click of her teeth, and she grinned even as her spine moved in a sine wave against his mattress.
Do Not Cross [Closed] - megs - 01-17-2015
"Shut up," the words were more akin to a growl now, fingers pressed into her breast insistently. His tone slipped further into a rumbling murmur the more he touched her; the more he tasted of her. Those giggles should not be getting to him so effectively. They were ridiculous, he tried to tell himself. Why was he in bed with a woman who giggled without the lilt of irony?His other hand finally released her wrists. Fingertips trailed down her arm and across the tattoo-decorated cicatrices. He made a mental note to ask about those ridiculous illustrations later, if he got the chance.
Grayson didn't know what she wanted. He considered this as he continued to touch and tease. That wasn't quite right. He knew what she wanted, but he didn't know what she liked. He could guess though, she'd been more than willing to speak on her preferences in detail on the car ride.
He pulled his head back out of habit as she snapped at the air. He grin tugged at the corner of his mouth, but he hid it by returning his lips to her skin. "It's a very nice house, " he offers in between leaving kisses in a line down her sternum and her stomach. "I wouldn't really blame you if you did."
Grayson pulled away suddenly and took her hips in his hands. There was something he enjoyed about how easy she was to move around. He pulled her closer to the edge of the bed, until her ass was almost hanging off of it. He knelt between her thighs and draped her legs over his shoulders. He probably should have been considering to be more careful, this woman was a stranger after all.
But that grin, and the way she moved against the mattress had him all but undone. "Do me a favor and stop talking for a bit." He wrapped his arms around her thighs and splayed his fingers over her ribcage.
He was tentative a first, with the way the tip of his tongue slid over her sex. As if he was more interested in the way she would react than what he was doing.
Do Not Cross [Closed] - Tindome - 01-25-2015
His irritation made her laugh, which was probably the opposite of what he wanted. "Maaake meeee," she sang, and it transitioned into a long low chuckle. Despite this assertion, she didn't just babble for the sake of irritating him; she gasped and she sighed and she hummed with pleasure, but words were saved for when she thought she could amuse herself. Amusement was the only goal that came near to orgasms in her mental list of priorities, all of them under the lofty heading of good times.
She practically purred as he kissed his way down her body, using her now-free hands to run her fingers through her hair. She arched her back and lengthened her spine, elbows pointed upward as if for a morning stretch. "You've secretly been a realtor this whole time," she accused breathlessly as she relaxed back down. "This seems like an unethical way to sell – ah!"
Nadine dissolved back into giggles as her surprise subsided, making herself comfortable with his face between her legs. She said nothing to his demand, but made a lazy gesture like zipping her lips. As his tongue touched her, he was met with another groaning gasp, already wet and quite pleased by the fact. She'd never pretended to be anything but easy, after all. She hadn't been flirting so aggressively since she'd seen him because he didn't turn her on.
And then he'd gone and wrapped his hands around her neck and around her wrists, moved her around like he was toying with her, and really, she was only human. If he didn't want to deal with the mess, he should have taken her up on the dental dams.
Very softly, she ran her fingertips over his hair.
She practically purred as he kissed his way down her body, using her now-free hands to run her fingers through her hair. She arched her back and lengthened her spine, elbows pointed upward as if for a morning stretch. "You've secretly been a realtor this whole time," she accused breathlessly as she relaxed back down. "This seems like an unethical way to sell – ah!"
Nadine dissolved back into giggles as her surprise subsided, making herself comfortable with his face between her legs. She said nothing to his demand, but made a lazy gesture like zipping her lips. As his tongue touched her, he was met with another groaning gasp, already wet and quite pleased by the fact. She'd never pretended to be anything but easy, after all. She hadn't been flirting so aggressively since she'd seen him because he didn't turn her on.
And then he'd gone and wrapped his hands around her neck and around her wrists, moved her around like he was toying with her, and really, she was only human. If he didn't want to deal with the mess, he should have taken her up on the dental dams.
Very softly, she ran her fingertips over his hair.
Do Not Cross [Closed] - megs - 03-15-2015
Silencing her had not been the goal, but it was a pleasant side effect. She was a mess in more ways than one, but Grayson didn't need a degree in psychology to know that about her. He pulled one hand away from her hips, the other kneaded flesh in the pattern of tapping fingers, as his tongue continued to draw slow circles. He used the hand he freed to finally remove his glasses; he sometimes managed to forget about them until they got in his way, and this was one of those moments. Dropping them to the floor, grey eyes rolled upwards to glance across the expanse of the body, that arched against the attentions.
She was sweeter than her personality gave her credit for. Surely there was a metaphor about roses and thorns in this somewhere, but now was not the place or the time for philosophy, or psychological evaluations. Especially, as he teased her wet opening with a fingertip.
Digits in his hair too soft for his attention were a contrast to the way he slipped two fingers inside her. Fingers flicked upwards to stroke against her, as he wrapped his lips around the sensitive bundle, his tongue had been toying with, to suck gently. His other hand alternated between gripping her hip and idly tracing raised scar tissue.
Grayson was patient. He would take his time. He would tease, and touch if for no other reason than to see if he could make her beg.
Do Not Cross [Closed] - Tindome - 05-04-2015
It was practical of him to take off his glasses, a stark contrast to Nadine, still wearing her own. The crook of her nose made a secure perch for the vintage frames, and she liked being able to see clearly the way he looked kneeling between her knees. She was almost always loathe to take them off, or to turn out the lights. She preferred her interludes in high-definition.
Exceptions could be made for blindfold involvement, but small was the overlap in the Venn diagram of 'people who wanted to blindfold Nadine' and 'people whom Nadine wanted to blindfold her'.
Her breath caught and left her in a gasp when his fingers slid inside her, and her own fingers raked through his hair in response, no longer gentle or careful. She did not quite press his face between her legs, but she came near to it, fingertips curling against his scalp with the faintest scratch of gaudy plastic.
"Ah-!" That Nadine was noisy would surprise no one who had known her for longer than five minutes, but she always started small, little cries and groans that matched the rise and fall of her spine like a wave.
His hand along her skin was nearly met with her own, but somehow that felt too intimate, to press his hand against her skin, to hold his hand with hers. Cunnilingus was one thing, but hand-holding quite another. So she resisted that temptation, much as she wanted to luxuriate in the feel of him touching her, and used her hand to brush her curls out of her face instead. The better to see him, the better for him to see her, the way her shoulders curled inward and outward and her mouth tried to catch the air escaping her.
Exceptions could be made for blindfold involvement, but small was the overlap in the Venn diagram of 'people who wanted to blindfold Nadine' and 'people whom Nadine wanted to blindfold her'.
Her breath caught and left her in a gasp when his fingers slid inside her, and her own fingers raked through his hair in response, no longer gentle or careful. She did not quite press his face between her legs, but she came near to it, fingertips curling against his scalp with the faintest scratch of gaudy plastic.
"Ah-!" That Nadine was noisy would surprise no one who had known her for longer than five minutes, but she always started small, little cries and groans that matched the rise and fall of her spine like a wave.
His hand along her skin was nearly met with her own, but somehow that felt too intimate, to press his hand against her skin, to hold his hand with hers. Cunnilingus was one thing, but hand-holding quite another. So she resisted that temptation, much as she wanted to luxuriate in the feel of him touching her, and used her hand to brush her curls out of her face instead. The better to see him, the better for him to see her, the way her shoulders curled inward and outward and her mouth tried to catch the air escaping her.
Do Not Cross [Closed] - Tindome - 05-24-2015
Nadine didn't expect him to keep going, because why would he? He'd brought home a strange woman who was willing to fuck, and he certainly hadn't done it as a favor. But the show she put on only made him more persistent, and as she got louder she realized with some surprise that he was going to keep going until she finished – no mere foreplay, this, as his fingers curled inside her and his mouth played at her clit. Her legs curled around his shoulders, and soon the hand in his hair was coaxing him on in earnest, grinding against his face.
Grayson paused, and she gasped, an indignant growl of disgusted frustration. "Don't you dare," she snarled, so close she could scream, "don't you dare stop, Grayson, if you stop now I swear I'll–"
"Ask nice," he interrupted, before she could decide on a threat, and the way his voice felt against her made her toes curl even as she groaned.
"Please," she tried again, "pleasepleasepleaseprettyplease – oh, oh." He tongue flicked over her clit before he sucked again, fingers curling deeper, and that was all it took to make her scream with delight. She felt his hair slip away from her fingers as she was momentarily lost to the world, and as she tried to pull him back he bent over her to kiss her, coating her tongue in the taste of her own arousal. Which was filthy and unsanitary and he should absolutely have been ashamed of himself, at some point, when she was done holding onto him to kiss him with all the fierceness she had available to her. He slid her higher onto his bed as he crawled into it, and at some point while he was between her legs on the floor he must have done away with his jeans. Which was almost too bad; there was something nice about the urgency of fucking through denim.
"Hey!" she protested when he slid the glasses off her face, frowning. She still hated it when people did that.
He folded them carefully, and tapped them against the tip of her nose. "I'm not buying you new glasses just because you don't know when to take them off," he said, misinterpreting the source of her displeasure. She also had a hunch that he was lying. She let it slide, because he'd had a good reason, and it was almost sweet. Thighs straddling hers, she let out a yelp of surprise when hands at her waist flipped her over.
"Mister Crawford," she giggled, pretending to be scandalized as he kissed a line down her spine.
"You said no missionary," he reminded her, and she grabbed what appeared to be his fluffiest pillow as there was a distinctive crinkle behind her.
"I did not," she protested, although she was hardly complaining. He lifted her hips, and she accommodated him by bending her legs to prop up her knees, face still comfortably resting on the pillow she'd wrapped her arms around.
"You implied," he corrected, adjusting the spread of her legs, propping a pillow against the headboard to be sure she wouldn't hit her head. "And don't call me that," he added. "It's weird." He brushed her hair out of her face so he could see her, and when she opened her mouth to argue again, he pushed inside her with a single swift stroke. Whatever she'd been about to say turned into a ragged moan, green eyes wide as she gripped tight she pillow she was holding.
Fingers tangled in her curls and pinned them to the pillow, pulled her hair in what might have been revenge for when she'd done the same. She wasn't about to complain, because she was still soaked and sensitive, enough that each stroke was like an echo of her earlier climax. Every thrust seemed to push the air out of her lungs and leave her gasping, and he answered her sounds with what could only be called growls, low deep sounds as he watched her face twist against the pillow.
"Bored?" he asked, and she couldn't help a breathless laugh at the taunt.
"So – so – so –" she attempted, but dissolved into giggles, because she couldn't speak properly when his hips were ramming into hers and knocking all the air out of her. "More," she settled on, because that was a very good all-purpose syllable. His hands gripped her shoulders, slid down her arms to untangle her death grip on his bedding. His hands held her wrists so her arms stretched behind her back, and she gasped in surprise as he held them there, lifted her off the pillow so she couldn't stop herself bouncing with the force of his thrusts. She was stretched out and helpless and utterly ecstatic, and if she kept screaming she was going to end up losing her voice. Which she didn't think he'd mind.
She came again, enough force that bucked against him and her limbs all shuddered, seeming for a moment to struggle before she'd crested again. He held her still for a moment while his cock twitched inside her, made her twitch in turn until he released her. She collapsed against his pillows in a sighing and sated heap, not bothering to try and make room for him or get herself into a more attractive position.
"I've been tricked," she accused with a yawn, stretching out her legs to work out the cramp from being tense and bent so long. The kittens on her thighs had made it through remarkably unscathed. "You're not boring at all. You should warn people."
Grayson paused, and she gasped, an indignant growl of disgusted frustration. "Don't you dare," she snarled, so close she could scream, "don't you dare stop, Grayson, if you stop now I swear I'll–"
"Ask nice," he interrupted, before she could decide on a threat, and the way his voice felt against her made her toes curl even as she groaned.
"Please," she tried again, "pleasepleasepleaseprettyplease – oh, oh." He tongue flicked over her clit before he sucked again, fingers curling deeper, and that was all it took to make her scream with delight. She felt his hair slip away from her fingers as she was momentarily lost to the world, and as she tried to pull him back he bent over her to kiss her, coating her tongue in the taste of her own arousal. Which was filthy and unsanitary and he should absolutely have been ashamed of himself, at some point, when she was done holding onto him to kiss him with all the fierceness she had available to her. He slid her higher onto his bed as he crawled into it, and at some point while he was between her legs on the floor he must have done away with his jeans. Which was almost too bad; there was something nice about the urgency of fucking through denim.
"Hey!" she protested when he slid the glasses off her face, frowning. She still hated it when people did that.
He folded them carefully, and tapped them against the tip of her nose. "I'm not buying you new glasses just because you don't know when to take them off," he said, misinterpreting the source of her displeasure. She also had a hunch that he was lying. She let it slide, because he'd had a good reason, and it was almost sweet. Thighs straddling hers, she let out a yelp of surprise when hands at her waist flipped her over.
"Mister Crawford," she giggled, pretending to be scandalized as he kissed a line down her spine.
"You said no missionary," he reminded her, and she grabbed what appeared to be his fluffiest pillow as there was a distinctive crinkle behind her.
"I did not," she protested, although she was hardly complaining. He lifted her hips, and she accommodated him by bending her legs to prop up her knees, face still comfortably resting on the pillow she'd wrapped her arms around.
"You implied," he corrected, adjusting the spread of her legs, propping a pillow against the headboard to be sure she wouldn't hit her head. "And don't call me that," he added. "It's weird." He brushed her hair out of her face so he could see her, and when she opened her mouth to argue again, he pushed inside her with a single swift stroke. Whatever she'd been about to say turned into a ragged moan, green eyes wide as she gripped tight she pillow she was holding.
Fingers tangled in her curls and pinned them to the pillow, pulled her hair in what might have been revenge for when she'd done the same. She wasn't about to complain, because she was still soaked and sensitive, enough that each stroke was like an echo of her earlier climax. Every thrust seemed to push the air out of her lungs and leave her gasping, and he answered her sounds with what could only be called growls, low deep sounds as he watched her face twist against the pillow.
"Bored?" he asked, and she couldn't help a breathless laugh at the taunt.
"So – so – so –" she attempted, but dissolved into giggles, because she couldn't speak properly when his hips were ramming into hers and knocking all the air out of her. "More," she settled on, because that was a very good all-purpose syllable. His hands gripped her shoulders, slid down her arms to untangle her death grip on his bedding. His hands held her wrists so her arms stretched behind her back, and she gasped in surprise as he held them there, lifted her off the pillow so she couldn't stop herself bouncing with the force of his thrusts. She was stretched out and helpless and utterly ecstatic, and if she kept screaming she was going to end up losing her voice. Which she didn't think he'd mind.
She came again, enough force that bucked against him and her limbs all shuddered, seeming for a moment to struggle before she'd crested again. He held her still for a moment while his cock twitched inside her, made her twitch in turn until he released her. She collapsed against his pillows in a sighing and sated heap, not bothering to try and make room for him or get herself into a more attractive position.
"I've been tricked," she accused with a yawn, stretching out her legs to work out the cramp from being tense and bent so long. The kittens on her thighs had made it through remarkably unscathed. "You're not boring at all. You should warn people."
Do Not Cross [Closed] - megs - 06-09-2015
With a chuckle he removed himself from the bed, not wanting to fight her for room upon it. Grayson was not very into post-coital cuddling, regardless. Unless his partner's desire for tactile reaffirmation of attraction lasted long enough for him to clean himself up first. He pushed hands through his hair, before lifting his arms above his head in a stretch, fingers reaching for the ceiling. His gaze drifted to those cheeky looking kittens encasing her legs. They seemed almost smug, now that she'd gotten what she wanted "If I warned them, how would I trick them into becoming my next victim?" He turned his body to look at her pointedly, and then he left on that note, which probably would have left any normal person a bit concerned.
She was not a normal person as far as he could tell. Women who hung around crime scenes were probably more interested in serial killers than he wanted to give them credit for. Now that all the blood was back in his head, he found himself wondering why he'd taken home a woman he'd found at a crime scene. One that could very reasonably be a suspect.
Because she was small and pretty and he was a sucker for stockings and a bad attitude.
He turned on the shower, because now he was covered in work and sex and neither one was particularly favorable.
He paused. Oh, no. Did he have a thing for potential serial killers? Was the whole of his career just a subconscious way for him to find horrible women to hook up with? Granted, this was the first time it had ever happened, but this was also the first time he had met a woman in stockings and a mini skirt at a homicide. Limited Data. Fuck.
He stepped into shower, and stood under the running water that was probably too hot to actually be comfortable. He contemplated what exactly was happening to his life.
Do Not Cross [Closed] - Tindome - 06-09-2015
Nadine cackled, watching the way he moved all the while. It was really unfair, how attractive he was. "That's one hell of a trick," she giggled, not actually concerned at all. She'd had to talk him into taking her home, after all. And then talk him into fucking her. He hadn't done a single thing she hadn't asked for, and he'd even had the gall to be grumpy about it.
She considered falling right asleep as she slid the stockings off her legs, dropping them to the floor beside the bed. She didn't mind waiting until morning to shower, generally speaking; if all she was going to do was sleep, it didn't matter if she was a little bit sticky. Showering in the morning meant she couldn't sneak out while he was asleep, but she had a feeling she wouldn't be able to get away with that regardless. He seemed to type to wake up early.
What clinched it was the fact that he'd been so eager to get in the shower once they were done. He seemed like the type that might not like prolonged contact with sticky women. Sleeping alongside someone else without touching them was a depressing prospect. It was possible, of course, that his need to shower was as much emotional as physical, in which case no amount of scrubbing would coax him into being the big spoon. But, hell. Couldn't hurt to try.
Sliding out of bed on shaky legs, she made her way to the bathroom, fingers sliding along furniture along the way in case she tipped over. "I'm joining you in a second," she warned as she entered the bathroom, loud enough that he could hear her over the water, "so if you're doing anything embarrassing, you should probably try and stop."
She was only a little bit kidding. If she actually thought he was crying after sex, she would have… well, gone back to bed and pretended she didn't. Because awkward.
Her first attempt to join him in the shower was cut off with a squeal, recoiling from the heat. A preference for cold showers may have biased her, but still. "Are you a fucking Pompeii worm?" she accused. "Is your natural habitat hydrothermic vents?" Despite this, she persisted in joining him, though she shied away from most of the water. She squeaked whenever it actually hit her skin, though not in any real pain. "Oh my god, how dirty do you think you are?"
She considered falling right asleep as she slid the stockings off her legs, dropping them to the floor beside the bed. She didn't mind waiting until morning to shower, generally speaking; if all she was going to do was sleep, it didn't matter if she was a little bit sticky. Showering in the morning meant she couldn't sneak out while he was asleep, but she had a feeling she wouldn't be able to get away with that regardless. He seemed to type to wake up early.
What clinched it was the fact that he'd been so eager to get in the shower once they were done. He seemed like the type that might not like prolonged contact with sticky women. Sleeping alongside someone else without touching them was a depressing prospect. It was possible, of course, that his need to shower was as much emotional as physical, in which case no amount of scrubbing would coax him into being the big spoon. But, hell. Couldn't hurt to try.
Sliding out of bed on shaky legs, she made her way to the bathroom, fingers sliding along furniture along the way in case she tipped over. "I'm joining you in a second," she warned as she entered the bathroom, loud enough that he could hear her over the water, "so if you're doing anything embarrassing, you should probably try and stop."
She was only a little bit kidding. If she actually thought he was crying after sex, she would have… well, gone back to bed and pretended she didn't. Because awkward.
Her first attempt to join him in the shower was cut off with a squeal, recoiling from the heat. A preference for cold showers may have biased her, but still. "Are you a fucking Pompeii worm?" she accused. "Is your natural habitat hydrothermic vents?" Despite this, she persisted in joining him, though she shied away from most of the water. She squeaked whenever it actually hit her skin, though not in any real pain. "Oh my god, how dirty do you think you are?"
Do Not Cross [Closed] - megs - 06-18-2015
"Well, I can't get by on just my charm," he replied. Once upon a time Grayson could have been considered charming. Flirtatious at most, a decent human being at the least. Too many things had happened to him since then. Things that make a person hard and cold. Most would consider Grayson downright unpleasant. So much for Dean being such a good judge of character. Not that he knew who exactly he should be comparing himself to.
Her announcement broke him out of his reverie. He turned his back to the water and pushed wet hair out of his eyes. He grunted in response, because he knew she wouldn’t take no for an answer, since it hadn't exactly been a question.
He had been shampooing his hair when she finally joined him. He couldn't help a chuckle at the sight of her. The reaction was raw - she wasn't posing or pretending and he found it cute. "Yep, you caught me. I'm actually just a bundle of polychaete worms in human skin. I just walk around trying to pick up women and coax them into hot showers."
All in all he admired her determination, so he turned the temperature down after rinsing his hair. "Hot water gets things clean. I've been hanging out at crime scenes all day. They're gross."
He reached a hand up to push curls behind her ear, leaving droplets of water across her skin. Pulling away he used the same hand to motion her closer. "Better? It's not getting any colder."
Do Not Cross [Closed] - Tindome - 06-18-2015
Nadine laughed, though it was still halfway to a squeal as she remained on the furthest edge of the shower from the water. "I should have known!" she said, feigning anguish. "The bright colors should have been a dead giveaway." She may have been ogling him a little bit. There was something undignified and adorable about showering. "Maybe not," she admitted. "The bristles?" He was definitely bristly. "The slime?" She snorted, dissolving into giggles. "Yes. That should have been a red flag. But if you're a banana slug you have to tell me, that's the law. A special law, that cops don't know about."
She inched closer as he turned the temperature down, no longer cowering away in the corner. "This is horrible for your human suit," she protested. She shut her eyes and scrunched her nose as he brushed hair from her face. "Boiling water kills people as well as bacteria, mister. These are science facts." She came closer, anyway, rubbing water from her face with the heel of her hand and a petulant expression.
"Fire would be a cool relief," she asserted. She did her best, despite that, to join him under the water without pushing him out of her way. "But, fine. I will try to be less gross, as a favor to you, secret slug cop." Fingertips walked gently up his chest, not sure if she could get away with touching him any more than that.
She inched closer as he turned the temperature down, no longer cowering away in the corner. "This is horrible for your human suit," she protested. She shut her eyes and scrunched her nose as he brushed hair from her face. "Boiling water kills people as well as bacteria, mister. These are science facts." She came closer, anyway, rubbing water from her face with the heel of her hand and a petulant expression.
"Fire would be a cool relief," she asserted. She did her best, despite that, to join him under the water without pushing him out of her way. "But, fine. I will try to be less gross, as a favor to you, secret slug cop." Fingertips walked gently up his chest, not sure if she could get away with touching him any more than that.
Do Not Cross [Closed] - megs - 07-05-2015
"Bristly and slimy are not compliments," he interjected, as if it was possible she had thought otherwise. He was not accustomed to having company in the shower, and he was doing his best not to be awkward about it. There was plenty of room over all. Large, and square and incased in glass, as if it'd been designed with company in mind. Which Grayson only found baffling, because as far as he was concerned showers really only had one purpose, and ohmigod what a weird fucking thing for him to be thinking about right now. "We've already determined I am not a banana slug, so I have broken none of these made-up laws."
He'd ushered her closer, but now he had no idea what to do with her. This was not very well thought out. He tried not to frown, because if nothing else he knew not to frown at beautiful women when they were in the shower with you. He reached behind to turn the water down just a touch further, mumbling that she was exaggerating before plucking her hand from his chest and pressing lights kisses to her fingers. His free hand smoothed over her unscarred side, and he gently turned her around, releasing her digits in the process. "Less gross would be favorable," he agreed, pulling shampoo from the collection that was gathered on the shelf. "And that's Officer Pompeii worm, to you."
He tentatively smoothed shampoo laden hands across her curls. While secretly terrified of the ringlets, he did his best to be suave and confident while handling. He worked the soap into a decent lather, fingertips massaging against her scalp. He had fallen silent and focused in his task.