Wicked, Wanton, and Wired [Closed] - Printable Version
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RE: Wicked, Wanton, and Wired [Closed] - danixiewrites - 11-22-2015
"I'm not taking you to a brothel, Technotits." Ooh. Fate rolled that one around in his head a second time. He liked that one. And at the same time, he hesitated to use it again, because no one let him get away with a nickname twice. "I call the shots but I certainly don't plug and play in those circles."That didn't mean he didn't have a healthy--filthy--collection to jack off to in the comfort of his own den of iniquity. Or that he'd *never* had anyone to his home to mess around with--though he'd yet to meet someone with staying power. He always seemed to say the wrong thing.
And he definitely didn't want to find out what the one thing was that would make this one cut off her comm--in this case, his access to what was pretty well close to her brain--and shut him out. He wanted to play, for as long as he could keep Rage around.
Not that Fate, as a general rule, had any chance at all keeping a filter in place. He hadn't grown up with one, life-and-death seriousness being the only thing that truly shut him into a focused state that begat very little by way of flirting. And this was definitely not a situation he could classify as serious. Rage's episode of claustrophobia had been the closest between them, and even then once he'd discovered sensual banter got her through...he hadn't managed to keep that professional either. It was as if, now that she'd given him leeway to run rampant he was trapped between feeling as if he were trying on a suit three sizes too small that he'd be expected to wear OUTSIDE and deciding to run utterly wild.
Both had consequences, so instead, Fate found himself stuck in some bizarre middle ground.
He didn't know what would come out of her mouth or her tech next, and he was equally unsure what his own reaction would be.
"It wasn't meant to," he said and it came out an apology muttered more to himself than to her before he realized that though she'd taken it for the innuendo he hadn't intended and even attempted to backpedal on, she was still playing right back. "So talking about all the features my cock may or may not have readily available for your pleasure doesn't count as phone sex?" he asked louder.
Oh, but then she continued.
And continued.
And there was more and he was fucking harder than the plassteel composite beams they were trying to fix Radius with and somehow he'd queued up his software to snag a video instead the intended still shot of his zipper and it was coming down and his hand was wrapping around the shaft in question as it sprang free of its confines, orange curls so light as to be neon curling against the base, a drop of excited precum blushing around the tip.
He squeezed, both because his fingers were twitching with a sudden, impulsive need to wrap the white strands of hair he'd barely caught a glimpse of thus far between them and because otherwise his hips would jerk forward at the lascivious picture coming out of her mouth.
Fate slumped forward and his head hit the desk. The fucking back of her throat. Warm and wet and tight and "Goodddddssss," he groaned, the sound muffled against the top of his desk.
This was definitely not the way things usually went.
"What flavor?" he asked, the question strained as he struggled not to stroke himself when she stopped the decadent tease. "Your favorite lollipop. What flavor?"
>>Because your lips and tongue would taste like it.
>>And I definitely need one so I can get a better Rage sensory experience going on.
"Not that your code isn't sensual enough. It fucking IS. It's just...well. Everything's better with tongue involved, really," he explained. "And yeah, I suppose if this were phone sex I'd tell you how very pleased I'd be with your hair wrapped around and between my fingers. Draped across my thighs like so much silk. But that I'd have plans for my other hand to be sliding down the side of your neck and ever-so-gently scraping its nails across your shoulder. And when you used teeth, it'd grip hard there too--pulling you closer, pressing deeper, mmph."
He cut himself off before he could tease much further because he'd unconsciously slid his hand up, over, down and he'd leaned back without realizing it.
It would suck to have to clean up his equipment.
"I'll have to order up some oil, too," he noted in a different program, still talking, trying to hold his hand still at the thought, and still very much audible though he had followed a train that wasn't supposed to send directly to Rage. "Such pretty parts to spread flavor on...to nibble off the perky little tips of those tits. Icing. We'd need icing for sure, the kind that melts in ones mouth instead of smearing everywhere like a painting gone wrong. Painting..." The idea rooted in his mind as his words trailed off, and he used his free hand to key in a couple more items on his shopping list. "Maybe I should just have her pick them up on the way over rather than playing with the usual delivery service."
He paused.
"Not that she's on her way over."
They were having a treasure hunt for pictures, after all, and hadn't truly come to the conclusion she'd be straddling his lap and sliding up and down on him the same way she'd been riding her collection of sex toys.
His forehead hit the desk again and the hand around his cock squeezed hard.
"Sex toys. GODS."
Yeah, he definitely wanted her there. Not her 2-D picture, not the glimpses of model-applicable 3-D video to throw on a holo, but Rage, her whole self.
He eyeballed the feed and then bit his lip. He'd only input the shopping list by hand, right? He hadn't just listed it over the comm? Yeah, he probably hadn't screwed that up. He was pretty sure, anyway. How could he be so completely in his element and yet so far flung from it he could barely see straight?
"That's good," he admitted, and he was only half-talking about sex. This time. "I'd much rather arrange the strings than pull them or be pulled, rather rebuild the rules of the game than be or keep a puppet."
The treasure hunt would merely take her through the thoroughfare of the district, so he could enjoy the view. And, of course, watch what she looked at, what she lingered on longer than necessary. Anything to give him more tools in his toolbox when it came to Rage. No, there was a wishing well right in the middle, a strange thing that an alien saw to the caretaking of and rendering of services from. An alien who owed him a favor.
And who, oddly enough, was as pleased as Fate once he realized the file he'd been sent to deliver to the wisher was a video of something more personal than either of them had really wanted out there. Which was horrified and NOT pleased. At all. Fate sent an apology via a favor owed--because he agreed: Once you saw something it was impossible to unsee it.
"Make another wish, and think of me," he instructed as Rage drew closer to the hot zone.
RE: Wicked, Wanton, and Wired [Closed] - Blade - 11-22-2015
When he called her one the listed nicknames she’d offered up—more as humorous suggestions than anything else—she giggled internally. Yeah, I like it when ‘e says that. Roar, baby, roar. She had to bite the inside of her cheek to avoid saying it out loud, not that she was worried about his reaction; mostly because she liked the idea of holding just a little bit back. What she wasn’t holding back, however, well... it was bloody beautiful mess—sticky sweet like a hot bun lathered in honey, half cool and still warm enough to melt in one’s mouth.Initially she was a little confused by the apologetic tone that came through her systems and fed directly to her brain after it siphoned its pathway through the organic chip in her head. That didn’t sound right. Her brow knit and she pouted again. Had she said something wrong? Ah, bugger... he wasn’t gonna get pissed at her, right? As far as ‘annoying batshit crazy’ shit to say went that was pretty lowballing.
But as she was silent and pondering this, overthinking it to the point of nearly running said thoughts in front of her eyes—his screen and hers—she heard a loud bang over the com. It wasn’t at all unlike the one she’d heard much earlier. She opened her mouth to ask if something was wrong, a little alarmed—to the point of stopping her forward trek actually. And then came his groan... the long drawing out of the word—like a prayer of want and frustration.
She smiled and leaned into the side of a wall as she went on puffing at her fag, listening—reading his text before her eyes.
Melt-worthy words, those. Lovely words she'd save and hold onto to reread later over and over again.
She hummed, eyes closing as she turned, rolling her back along the wall until she’d slipped into a dark alley—shadowed, secluded, and conveniently empty.
>Salted caramel.
“Because I like salty sweet things,” she said aloud as she leaned back into the wall, dropping her head against the steel and stone as she shut her eyes. The fag was long forgotten on the ground. As he talked, pleasing her all the more, she unabashedly pulled a glove off her hand and stuck it in her pocket. With a gentle sigh she did not bother to mask over their audio connection, she undid a button, unzipped, and slid a hand down over smooth skin—over slick folds wet with his words, his voice.
“Could put plastic down,” she murmured, adding to the oil suggestion as she idly worked herself—slowly, gasping once. “Keeps... keeps the sheets from getting... wet.” she bit her lower lip. Tits. Icing. His mouth. His tongue. “’Oney dust is good too,” she said. “Lickable power,” she tried to explain in case he didn't know. Broken words and thoughts whispered with a breathy voice as she pushed two fingers in, as she pulled them up and teasingly rolled her fingers over her clit.
Her free hand pressed against the wall, needing something to grasp at. “I’d come up then,” she went on, imagining the scenario in her head—trying to without going too far an actually sending what she was thinking right to him. It’d come up as some odd haze of barely watchable video pornography all too fucking easily without some level of control. “But go lower,” she went on with the same ache in her tone. “Run my tongue over your balls. Take ‘em... take ‘em one at a time in my mouth...” A moan this time, but not loud enough to cause any kind of trouble. “Suck an’ lick till they were soaked."
When he continued talking she wondered if it was to her; though she quickly realized he was speaking to himself. And then to her. She smiled lazily as she worked herself, as she considered just what she’d pick up if he asked her to—definitely toys. And Honey dust. He liked being in control; she understood that. But she didn’t much care about it right now. Not when she was once again sliding those two fingers inside of her and wishing he was there—wishing it was his hand, cock, anything.
She wanted to be there, but didn’t push it. Not when each and every single little thing in their dance of words, of tech puzzles, seemed to be leading to that. She could wait; she hated waiting, but she could. Some things were worth waiting for, after all. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t warm up in the meantime.
“Thinkin’ of you right now, luv. Thinking of you ball deep in one of three warm ‘oles.” A hum of satisfaction. "Which one you want first?" Despite where she was, what she’d started, and what she’d said, this really hadn’t been her intention: masturbating to his voice in a dark and dirty alley. It had been a thought much earlier, but that was when she’d only gotten a clip of his voice. Looping it while she masturbated had been a former idea. Something she probably would have done in her own little hole of a living space.
But then he’d said such sweet little nothings. Filthy wonderful things. Words that made her unable to wait too long for something. Gods, she really hated waiting. Needed something to hold her over for now. This--this--was probably why she was never very good at undercover work. No patience. At all. There was almost nothing low-key about her, not without the proper motivation.
“Keep talkin’,” she ordered, making another soft sound that was just barely a whine.
RE: Wicked, Wanton, and Wired [Closed] - danixiewrites - 11-24-2015
When he realized he had indeed spoken his list aloud, a charming, red blush worked its way over ginger-pale cheekbones. His cock was undeterred, however, as more encouragement purred over the line. Plastic sheets. Fuck. He'd never needed plastic sheets. How wet would his little hacker minx be? How warm? Fate stroked his erection once more before he realized he'd started, helplessly shoving between his fingers. "Can't say I've ever had the pleasure of indulging in honey dust," Fate admitted. "Try to keep away from the stuff that fights reality too much. A good fuck should do that well enough on its own. Blow the mind, make you see stars, your ears get to ringing. Hums through your body like taking the public rail, sends you straight over the edge without even an old school parachute."
Curiously, he watched her screen go dark and her tracker stop moving. "You get lost, Cybervixen?"
Oh, but she didn't seem lost, or if she was she wasn't concerned, whispering a filthier tune and punctuating it with soft sounds one might hear in their ear during a sweet bout of loving.
His imagination flung itself directly toward his balls as she brought the images forward and he bucked in his chair. "Oh," he murmured as he realized he wasn't the only one caught up by playful words, teasing innuendos turned hot as water heating from a tank. Needy words, almost mournfully so, with an ache that matched the strain in his cock. He stared at the dark screen, disbelieving, wordless for far too long. A sound escaped his throat, one deeper than hers but just as wanting. Blinking slowly, he opened one of the pictures she'd sent him, her body impaled on a toy and arched back. "OH."
He really owed her for that photo shoot. She was absolutely touching herself and he hadn't even gotten a chance to play out their game for her receiving HIS whole picture. Would it be worth it to her? he worried for a scant second, then dismissed the concern in lieu of the glaringly green light that he wanted more than anything. It was a right-this-second yes-please let's-do-this-and-get-messy fuck-yes kind of neon green.
Absently, he sent a jolt through the line in the area where she held position, a warning bolt to keep other curious things away. Cameras, wifi signals from passersby, adbots, taxis, and maintenance crews, all to be discouraged from walking near to where Rage was--sitting or standing and touching herself to the sound of their definitely-phone-sex-now conversation.
"Not even at the next checkpoint," he murmured, knowing the visuals on that particular street would have done just the same as their verbal exchange. "Hell, maybe it'll wind this up all over again."
He rocked forward in his chair and hummed over the line. "Salty and sweet, with a little bit of bite, I can make that happen," Fate said, his lids shutting to halfmast as he tried to keep from triggering any accidental programs during the exchange. "I'd want to pull you up into my lap and tease between your thighs, ride without riding, a hard bite on one of those sweet tits so it hurts just so."
He licked full lips and grinned. "Soothing bit of tongue to make it all better."
THREE.
His brain stuttered.
THERE ARE THREE OPTIONS.
She'd hear his chair creak over the comm, probably the slide of skin against skin against rough fabric.
...Which...up...one...down...did...up...he...down...squeeze...FUCK...updown...want..."Fuck, Rage. FUCK. Just..." His head hit the chair back, wires clattering everywhere as his shoulders moved and one hand jerked restlessly over his lap. "Is it even legal to ask a man that?"
And with a command like that, it was impossible for Fate to refuse, to even begin to suggest, now that they were here, that she go find the next gift he'd left for her, even if he changed the end game and instead of a final picture he reshaped it so it brought her physically closer.
HERE.
He could barely think but stroked her circuits with one-handed code anyway, trying to paint a picture that wasn't a picture, sensation she'd feel the way her brain processed information like music. Strains of code that felt like several holidays wrapped into one, if she chose to pluck idly at them. Fate had never dealt with any person who possessed a setup like hers, had no idea if it would work, but hoped he'd gotten right what he'd seen, code sent nearby so she could reach out and take it.
"You should know, goddess," he said in a tone turned gravel, "I've got a hand wrapped around my cock right now. And I'm wishing it was you, your sweet body settled over mine in this very chair. In desperate need to thrust inside you and make your whispers come out so loud you'll be pushing my soundbuffers." How wet, how loud, how much..."Would you give me that, Rage?" he growled and he wasn't sure where his actual desire began and their playing ended. She wanted her name on his lips, she'd already teased as much, already had it. "Would you let me fuck you till you screamed?"
RE: Wicked, Wanton, and Wired [Closed] - Blade - 11-24-2015
“So you want a taste of me without all the extras? Old fashioned shag? All lips, an’ tongue, an’ fingers, slick parts covered our nectar for lube?” She was grinning, unable to stop the lazy expression as her fingers curled within her and just barely brushed that happy little place that would make her sing his name if bothered long enough. “Fancy we save the buzzing trinkets for later?”She really loved listening to him. But the silence that lasted too long made her imagine he’d just realized what she was doing and why she’d stopped. “No’ lost,” she told him breathlessly, “just takin’ a break, luv.” Another gasp.
It would be so easy to get herself off now, to tweak instead of tease in all the right places. Though she told herself this little show wasn’t just for her. She wanted to draw it out for him, to hear all the nasty little things he wanted her to do to him and him to her. Would it be enough for him to lead her to him? Or get him to her? For all the time she’d fucked with him she’d never gotten the chance to catch him out and about. And damn if she hadn’t tried either, short of breaking the rules in their game and actually locating him without permission—dropping in on his sanctum. It just felt cheap, that—like cheating. Did he come out? Didn’t seem likely given his hinted comments about not going anywhere.
Damn what a shame that would be though. She’d love to take him out to places one shouldn’t fuck, tempt getting caught, and ride him like a toy until he popped warm champagne all over her—or inside of her.
She switched to rubbing her clit again, half tempted to pull a bullet out of her pouch and turn the vibration way the fuck up. Too fast.
Fuck. Biting. Tits. She could almost feel his cock sliding back and forth between her folds—daring her body to lift and plunge him right into her hot core. “Balls,” she breathed, hips jerking as her fingers dug into the wall. Patience.
“I’d crawl right up then,” she went on, jaw flexing as she dragged a nail over the soft bud, a half choked moan leaving her. “Dig my nails into your shoulders and grind up an’ down your shaft until it’s sticky and ‘ard an’ sweet with me. Breathe a fuck into your bloody ‘air when you bit down on my nipple an’ warmed it with your tongue—eased the ache teased just a little bit more.” She bit down on her lower lip then as she rode her hand. “Then I’d kiss you, make you taste yourself on my tongue—tug your ‘ead back with my fingers in your ‘air.”
She nearly stopped when she heard the clattering of wires, fabric and skin. But her ego took a serious boost when he spoke brokenly, cussing, and asked her if it was legal to ask such a thing. She hummed a moan like she’d just eaten something sinfully too good to be true. “You an’ ass man, then? Or would you rather wank off between my tits an’ paint my face in cum?”
But then he did something else. Something she hadn’t quite expected. Something nobody had ever done. Although, it wasn’t like she’d ever sought out one night stands via coms and net chatter—code monkeys. Most of it was messy, and not in the good way. None of it was ever very pretty; not like his; not like hers. She didn’t want sloppy code writers.
In fact, this was a first for her. The phone sex, com sex, whatever. All of her liaisons had been handpicked in person when she got a fancy for something more than fingers and toys—when she got bored with her hand. And no one ever interested her enough to chat via voice, much let wank off talking dirty about what might happen. Not that she was going to tell him that. Now.
Possibly ever.
She was gasping again when the code slipped through the lines she was monitoring. Her brain took hold of it before her chip even began processing it into something that would pop up on a screen before her shut eyes. It was like a nerve that went right from her brain to her clit was been stroked, caressed, and tuned into just the right note.
Then she heard his gravelly voice over the com calling her goddess and telling her he wanted her screaming. He was saying her name. Hell... growling her name. Her chest heaved once with it and she couldn’t stop the cry that escaped, his name wound in it, “Fate...” Another breath. "Fuck yes.
"Anywhere. Everywhere. Now. Right now."
And she couldn’t really help it, the way her brain took hold of what he’d sent her—the way it plied it apart and put it back together with a touch that was uniquely her. It was as if her body was reacting to it, unconsciously wanting to give something back—as if it had to because she wasn’t there to actually touch him. He would see it in the blackness of her visuals before it was gone.
The code shot off through the line, this time not seeking to show up on his screens, but to actually connect to him and whatever tech his had housed in his head. Like knocking on a door. And if curiosity made him let it in, it’s trick his brain into feeling a sensation similar to her taking his hard cock inside of her—once—before going away entirely.
A sharp tease she hadn’t entirely meant to do, barely realized she had.
RE: Wicked, Wanton, and Wired [Closed] - danixiewrites - 12-09-2015
Fate stared at the screen and for a moment he wondered what she'd do if he fired off the coordinates to his place. If they could finish this game in private. But that would be wrong, he decided. Too easy, and Rage was not easy in the sense that she didn't deserve the mental sparring, had been playing their game on and off for too long for them to abandon this as something cheap. No, this, even as he took himself in hand, this would not end quite yet.
"Not old fashioned," he corrected automatically, though the particular combination of words didn't cut like they usually did. Probably because they'd been wrapped in a daydream of sex and wetness and oils gliding over slippery sheets. "It's not old fashioned to want to drive between your legs with all my faculties intact. Not old fashioned to want to feel sweat slick skin and my hands bracing you against a wall instead of some weird floating on the ceiling trip."
Not that there was anything wrong with losing one's mind in sex. It was the preferred side effect to getting one's rocks off. Blinding each other with pleasure. "Fuck, yes."
But Fate had enough issues with staying anchored to reality--if he tried something to make the effect linger, he was more than a little concerned he might not ever come down. And that would piss certain people off who he did NOT want to be thinking about with his hand wrapped around his cock.
How Rage had ever discovered honey dust he didn't know, suspected with the way she talked he didn't ever want to know. No, what he wanted to know was how her pussy would feel drenching his lap and hugging him tight. And that was about the extent of his brain's processing power, now that the blood flow had switched courses so damned thoroughly.
He wasn't sure he could even code more than the little delirious snippet he'd fired toward her, especially with her continuing the fantasy between them with words gone broken and jagged with sexual heat. Sweat beaded on his forehead and he was definitely going to destroy something in his workspace, playing with Rage, his mind swallowing all of the pictures she was painting. And the pictures of painting.......
It was on the heels of his code and a few strokes later that he found words again, growled them out as if his lips were brushing her actual ear instead of this byplay inside each other's minds.
"My fingers would dig into those sweet hips of yours, holding you still so you can't move until I say so," he gritted out between clenched teeth. "I'll make you squirm, Rage. Make you beg against my lips. And then we'll dance. We'll move so hard and fast my motion sensors'll burn up. Maybe start a fire while I pound into you and you scream so pretty for me."
It wasn't all he wanted to say, but Rage was unashamed with her invitations, calling his name. Moaning it. Offering, begging, everything all at once. "Yes, now, Rage. GODS. Now. You...you...yourself should be illegal," he managed as he drove into his hand the way he wanted to drive into her. No way she'd miss the slap of skin against skin that time, and he wanted it louder, more real, her slick against him, front to back, front to front, didn't matter. Code flitted across his monitor for an instant before his own desire let it cut straight through his firewalls and melt right into his head. Pleasure arced up his spine and made his teeth clench hard before he came with a shout and a jet that streaked the underside of his glass desk.
What. The. Fuck.
He panted hard, swiping the back of a hand over his forehead, trying to understand what had just overtaken his implants, trying to understand what she'd done. And how.
RE: Wicked, Wanton, and Wired [Closed] - Blade - 01-15-2016
She’d heard pretty things before. Men liked to say pretty things. Women did too, sometimes more than the boys did, but it was easier when she became the predator regardless of the game and who played. Then there were the ones that didn’t quite fit into one gender or another; sometimes she liked those best. At times, they could be more freeing between the sheets—or against a wall; you know... whatever worked. Sometimes the cold steel against her bare back felt like ice. Other times it felt like another tease in her repertoire or theirs. Sometimes they thought the pretty words got them further, sometimes they imagined it got them more than they bargained for. The play by play was in person always, just at she’d previously stated. Even so, by that point, she had them wound around her finger, mouths mashing as the both of them tried to find release. There were also times when the release aged on, feeling like it never quite stopped. But Rage was generally careful to keep her liaisons to once and only once.And yet... How was it she went on teasing this hacker? This Code Slinger? How was it he’d caught her attention, her interest, so thoroughly that she felt like each rendezvous brought her closer and closer to some calamity she couldn’t escape? If she’d really been up to treating him like every other midnight pleasure finale she would have sought him out long ago, fucked him, and then dumped him like yesterdays’ news feed. But it all felt wrong. Nothing was right about any of it. The not seeing him in person, the games she played with him on the net, and the cat and mouse game of virus infection and then some—most of which was generally harmless. And yet... the more she tugged at him, the more she pulled him into her web, the deeper she herself became immersed.
There had been other hackers of course; something and someone to pass the endless time with. and yet...
And yet...
He’d never walked away regardless of the time passed.
It tethered her... unmistakably, unexpectedly, and unknowingly.
Maybe that was it... the passing interest... the fact that he’d never walked away from one of their games too long to make her feel unwanted... no one ever paid her too much mind on the net. Of course, that probably had more to do with her than them. But he ploughed on, seeking her and agitating her into release and want for more—always more.
But he was old fashioned, wasn’t he? In a way? She smiled at that, his denial. Regardless of the reason, he wanted her in the flesh—wanted her skin against his, sweat mixing, breathing waxing and waning, heat escalating—moremoremore.
“Yes...” she managed to breathe between thoughts, finding that was all she could say to his wordwordwords. If only he knew how easy it would be for her to break away from him, if in such a situation, if he so desired. And yet she wouldn’t; she knew. She’d want to feel the press of his hands restraining her, holding her, making her squirm and beg for more.
It was a part of the game, wasn’t it?
The same time he shouted, coming and releasing along the underside his desk she tumbled—climaxed. Gloved digits gripped and sought purchase as he cried out—as she cried out—denting and wrenching the wall behind her because she knew she could and it didn’t matter.
Her body slumped, sliding, as she panted, euphoria and released overwhelming her sensors. Her heart rate spiked, showing clearly on the screen along with other numbers and texts explaining exactly what her body had experienced in brief stints—none of which she paid much mind to.
She remained there for a time, sucking in everything around her—within her. Moments passed on in silence as she came back to herself, as she...
...realized just what she had done. What he had done. What he had done that had made her...
Silver hues opened, almost hollow and confused as she stared at the walls across from her... as she pondered just what had happened. It wasn’t the com sex... it was... she wasn’t certain if she should be upset, terrified, or something else...
Her mind... she wasn’t sure she’d call it a sacred place... he’d certainly had more access to it than most—anyone.
She never let anyone in there. Not since...
She swallowed.
Was it an unhappy place? Did this make her unhappy? Had he made her unhappy? No... but...
“Sorry...” she found herself whispering as she pulled her legs towards her, her knees. It felt strange to apologize; she didn’t know why she was. She didn’t know if she should be upset or bothered. It all felt... wrong and right at once... him being in her head... if even for a brief moment.
“I didn’t mean...” she trailed off, uncertain and totally not herself.
RE: Wicked, Wanton, and Wired [Closed] - danixiewrites - 02-22-2016
"Rage?" Fate asked after he didn't know how long and in a voice that scratched like coded bytes used on the wrong lock, "Dollface, you there?"The lighter nickname slid from him like gravel, now that she'd given him permission for so much more. But the view on his screen was strange, offkilter somehow in the dark space she'd ducked into for their...game. A quick check on the axis shown in the viewer proved him right, vertical far closer to the ground than it should have been, were she still standing.
Maybe she hadn't been able to hold herself upright.
He'd gone pretty damned loose-limbed himself.
Coming like that...gods.
But something in the sawing of her breath, the jagged bursts in his ear that weren't quite the right sound for coming down off a high, said otherwise.
"Are you safe?" he asked then, concerned because of the quiet and the shadows and lack of proper angles with which to see her. "You're not trapped somewhere again, are you?"
It had been an invasion of his mind, the flood of sensory data straight down his tether and driven into his cortex, but that wasn't the part he minded, the echo of the very code he'd stroked her with. No, the part he minded was how very not-phone-sex it had felt, the hot and heavy feeling as if he'd truly been inside her, her sweet spread legs wrapped around his, his prick drenched in her honey, her mind feedbacking a broken chorus of sexsexsex in a code too organic to be real, the way it'd blasted him off like a first-timer in a whorehouse.
He scrubbed his hands over his cheeks, the rough stubble needing a shave before he drew her to his inner sanctum. A harsh breath gusted out.
Okay, he hadn't minded any of it. At all. It had just been...new. New and immersive and it'd drawn him into the Net on a level he could easily get addicted to. It was dangerous, this thing with Rage. And...she was apologizing.
"Pfft. Hey, Miss Kinky Circuit, if that was you not meaning to, then when I get to drive into you in the flesh I'm not going to walk for a month." No sooner had the words popped out of his mouth than he bit his bottom lip, as if that would be enough to call them back like so much reverted code. It wasn't just the blatant promise that he'd have her in his space "when" and not "if" but rather Rage herself. The way her words had that slight quaver...like things had gone so far she couldn't haul them back into shape. He grabbed a hand towel and wiped himself clean as he said softly, "Baby, that was incredible. But if you want to, if you need to stop this," gods, no, please, "tell me." They could go back to baiting each other with adware if they had to, if that was what it took to keep her around.
For some reason it bothered him more than usual that he might have done something to put her off. Not that, getting turned down with such regularity, when he finally had a bite he wouldn't let go, but rather this, her, Rage, was something he wanted very much to explore. Indulge.
RE: Wicked, Wanton, and Wired [Closed] - Blade - 03-04-2016
She was still staring up at the metal wall across from her that made up the other half of the alley, watching as idle flickering lights—normal ones that ebbed and flowed in this part of the ‘city’—reflected and bounced. Her breathing began to normalize as she listened to him call her name; the softer nickname after it brought a smile to her face involuntarily. It pulled at her pale cheeks and just barely showed teeth. Her chest felt lighter with it.“Most o’ the time, luv,” she said vaguely of being safe. It wasn’t catty; more gentle and playful than anything else even as it hinted at a life fully shrouded from the world she danced in—hinted at a life where she covered herself in a cloak of invisibility through tech and resourcefulness in order to go on living free. A cage she often ignored the existence of, but one that was there all the same.
She mentally shook it off.
As he spoke further she decided to remain silent. Perhaps because he seemed to like talking when there wasn’t anything being said on the other side—wanted to fill the void, or perhaps because she liked the sound of his voice mixed with what he said. Perhaps both. No... definitely both.
It occurred to her as he spoke that he was... he was being nice. It was a strange sensation to be on the receiving end of that sort of kindness. Rage could only ever recall experiencing that a few times in the past, a very distant past for her. It was raw, those memories—warm and ravaged and full of longing and grief she refused to deal with. Pain hurt; tears did. It was best for forget, forgo, and live in the current. Reliving things she could not change would not help her. Even so, that lightness in her chest expanded and warmed... it left a new sensation.
Ache.
But it didn’t hurt. It was a little like what she felt before when she’d tracked him, teased him, and had desired nothing more than to hear his voice speaking to her. But there was something more to it. Something better. Something that didn’t have a name. It was ok, the not having a name for now. She liked puzzles that took a while to figure out, too used to breaking code the way a child broke open the wrapper on a chocolate bar.
Rage shut her eyes and allowed her head to rest back on the wall behind her. The smile she offered, the one he could not see, was wry and playful, but also something else. Some more.
Her reply was laced in a sigh. “You’re sweet, Red. Bet you’re the kinda guy the birds put on the shelf for bein’ too nice.” A hum of a sound came next—soothing and wanting. “Jus’ not used to havin’ someone in my ‘ead.” It was an honest statement and she didn’t have a reason to lie; however, it was also one that wasn’t too vulnerable either. “Bloody surprised myself, is all, luv. My brain got ‘ead of itself. Guess it decided it wanted more o’ you; or my other parts did.” A grin and a chuckle as she wiped a hand down her face, opened her eyes, and moved to stand with a grunt. Next she was zipping herself back up, buttoning as well, and then putting her glove back on.
“Been workin’ you too long an’ too ‘ard to stop now, sweetling.” She paused as she looked out at the street and got her brain back to a focused working order on the area around her. “’M wantin’ my pot o’ a gold at the end of rainbow, yeah?”