Momento Mori [Closed] - Printable Version

+- alonimi (https://alonimi.net)
+-- Forum: Science Fiction (https://alonimi.net/forumdisplay.php?fid=69)
+--- Forum: Misc Sci Fi (https://alonimi.net/forumdisplay.php?fid=79)
+--- Thread: Momento Mori [Closed] (/showthread.php?tid=678)

---

Momento Mori [Closed] - Kat - 09-11-2016

---

RE: Momento Mori [Closed] - Kat - 09-11-2016

Chance lived in the dark side of the station. Cat calls and sticky floors; the kind that audibly suctioned to the bottom of her stilettos. Her skirt’s hem was always too short. No matter where she intended to go, she took a clutch purse, the strap swinging lazily in time to calculated clicks against metal grating. The air was sterilized for the hub city, but that didn’t help the ground level industrial sectors, and those occupying lower levels shielded their faces with personal ventilation masks. Chance stood out without trying - no mask, no inkling of concern for potential hazards in the atmosphere. The world might change, and her living situation could very well cease to be considered normal, but Chance Arden rarely approved of seeming mundane.

Change was good. Or, someone had told her that was the case. In her case, it wasn’t always favorable.

Despite constant smog and the Technicolored haziness of the lower sector’s red light district, Chance looked impeccable. Hence the obscene sounds the passerbys made, their muffled hoots and shouts of hyped masculine encouragement bringing a feigned blush to her cheeks. Had she really expected anything different? Another night, another set of rounds to make. Her life wasn’t all about looking good. On the contrary, there was business down in the belly of the station, and the Fae had obligations to meet. There were countless limitations to being Fae, but her least favorite involved contracts, and those she had made were very few and far between. It was best this way. The last thing she needed was additional baggage regarding liaisons and their significance in her otherwise private life.

When one had a face the public recognized, it was best to keep it from shady venues like the one she was approaching. Unfortunately, Chance had never been particularly concerned with catching the public’s eye. Fantastical beings were news worthy. How could she possibly avoid leaving a trace when the future was one of surveillance and totalitarianism? Preposterous thinking was that Chance might somehow manage to avoid every scrutinizing sighting for the sake of her watcher. Lauri would be forced to work twice as hard to squash the rumors that circulated, but Chance needn’t waste time tip toeing through the contained orbital metropolis.

—

Benji Ruy had been, at one point in his career, the best known prize fighter this side of the galaxy. Had he not lost a fight against a start up named Leo Oskatar, he would be in the high rises towering above the red sector, snorting coke pixie dust off some mega model’s nipple. As history went, he lost, and the dominoes all fell one after another until Benji was resorting to working as a hired thug used by one of the local syndicates. His only way out was to forget his past, and resort to a life of crime he actively opposed for decades prior. His saving grace came in the form of one very familiar blonde. Long legs, an ass to write anthems over, and the best set of tits he would likely see in his prolonged life. He had never cum so hard in his life.

For Chance, he was another mediocre morsel put on her plate, though his open admittance post coitus left her feeling generous.

Tumbled in motel room sheets, the room was pitch black save for the light Chance’s eyes produced, though as she listened to Benji, the glow dimmed with the closing of her lids. “I really want to fix what I fucked up.” He muttered between inhales of his cigarette. “Ya know, losing wasn’t the real end for me. It was losing everyone close to me. Used to have, uh, a family in the ring… Guys I trained with, the dudes who popped up to learn a thing or two from a champ. Fuck, I miss feeling like I could help someone.”

“What’re you mumbling about?” When she asked, she didn’t sound nearly as eager to hear as she may have been, though he ignored the rudeness for explanation’s sake.

“I was a boxer a few years back, and I keep thinking I could get back into it.”

“Why did you stop?”

And so the story was shared, which Chance Arden accepted as a cause to pledge minor allegiance to for the time being. Life for the notorious blonde had been excruciatingly dull for several months aside from a murder or two to sate Loe’s appetite, which meant the Fae needed a hobby. A pastime. A project. So, a Benji would suffice.

“Would you like my help, Benji?”

Biting into the filter of his cigarette to capture it for steady holding, the male struggled to seat himself against the headboard. His muscles visibly ripped, his body nude and scarred like every fight he had ever been in was written across his flesh. Chance liked how weathered he appeared, his features those of someone in their late thirties while his body seemed built upon youthful vigor and childhood promises. His dreams still clung to a battered body, and in her lust for such attributes, Chance felt spiritually nourished by his cause. How this was possible, she hadn’t the faintest idea. What she knew was he would need a contract, and for that to happen, he would need to be prepared. His silence didn’t satisfy the Fae.

“Benji, what if I told you I could help you - and all you need to do is start stroking your cock for me.” Eerie blue hues flickered open, though this time, the light was directed over her companion’s lower half. Muscled thighs were spread, one hand resting atop the leftmost. He visibly shifted as his other hand took the dying cigarette and directed to towards a crushed end in the bedside ashtray. “I mean it, you know.” Chance added with the ghost of a smirk stealing her features. “Unless you don’t want to give it a shot…”

“You’re a crazy broad, you know that?” But he smiled almost enthusiastically as his now free hand gripped his member like a man seasoned in self satisfaction. “Gonna watch me get off, and that’ll solve my problems? Sure you don’t wanna go again? I could definitely go again-” A few solid strokes, and Benji was back to his usual veiny girth, which Chance knew had fucked hundreds of women before his inevitable fall from fame.

“Oh, we’re going again.” Chance moved fluidly as she rose from the sheets, her body little more than shapes without any lights in the room. Her gaze was fixated on his form, on what he was doing, and there wasn’t much thought to whether he needed to see her body to reach peak performance. Teasingly, she crawled over his lap and rose to her knees, letting him feel the heat of her sex over the head of his cock. “And this time, you need only to tell me what your heart desires most. Tell me what you want, and I’ll tell you what I want - my one desire from you… And we’ll make a contract. We’ll be bound, Benji. You’ll be mine, and I will be yours.” Until the contract is fulfilled. That’s the part she never bothered to elaborate on, being she was a horrible being hellbent on ruining lives rather than save them. Still, he got the gist of what she offered.

His skepticism must not have been as obvious as it seemed on his expression, because in the wake of her body tempted his now throbbing erection, Benji Ruy nodded. “if it’ll get you back onto my dick, I’ll do it. I’ll be your daddy-”

This would be the one time Chance paused, and it was to cover Benji’s mouth with her palm to whisper. “You’re not my daddy, and he would be very upset if you called yourself such.” Perhaps this would have been the time for awkwardness, but Chance was trying hard not to think of Eneru, and fucking someone else helped in the moment. Briefly. At least, it would have helped had he not mentioned that word like he knew what it meant to the woman. Her eyes closed to once more enhance the feeling of Benji pushing through her tight folds, but her mind was increasingly focused on other things. First, on Eneru’s cock. On the way it stole her breathe right from her throat when he held her down and didn’t ask which hole he could claim. Then, onto what it meant to be entirely safe for one sweet moment. On to what they had been before their lives took separate paths.

Chance moaned and released Benji’s mouth to catch hearing his groans, but her mind formulated imagery favorable to what she truly wanted. Her hips were held, his grip slamming her ass downwards so it spread over his thighs, and his fingers kneaded into the supple flesh in attempts to further spread her cheeks. Each thrust he succeeded to make upwards was only to close the gap Chance created when she pushed away with her knees. Her lips met his, and while she kissed him, Eneru was in the forefront of her thoughts. Over and over, she moved with practice a human wouldn’t have nearly enough life to perfect, and Benji reacted as was expected. He sped up, hardly willing to take the time to appreciate his prize; she tasted his greed and relished in it. “Tell me now, Benji…” It was a whimper, a coo - the sound of a woman enthralled. She wanted to hear his words to seal the contract. “What do you want?”

“I-I want…” He groaned, his features twisted as he tried not to lose his concentration, and finish too quickly. “I want to start a gym and… Oh god, you’re so fucking tight. I could fuck you straight for a week, you fucking slut. God, I-” Chance kissed him again to stop his list of demands before they escalated any further, though when he seemed at the peak of his climax and the twitches of his cock became inevitable, Chance mouthed, “Eneru.”

The warm gush of his cum leaking from her filled cunt was exhilarating in ways Chance had yet to get tired of, though when she orgasmed, the credit belonged elsewhere. If she had a nickel for every faceless fuck who had brought her back to her roots without knowing it, she would be twice as rich. Her body eased weakly against his chest, and Benji was gentle. He held her in his lap, even if she would much rather it be someone else keeping her close. This time, when her eyes closed, they would stay closed for the remainder of their evening. “You’ll have it all, Benji. Back on your A game, champ.”

“I like that… Like when you call me champ.” He panted, smelling of cigarettes and sweat and raw sex. Chance didn’t seem to notice.

“I can give you that much… Champ.”

—

Chance walked into the gym like she owned the place. In her defense, she partially did. How else would she have held up her end of the bargain? The week of straight sex had been the hard part, but only because Benji kept trying to get emotionally attached, and Chance didn’t need a lover. The whole thing had been something of a bore. Now though, it was prime time to cash in on her end of the bargain and her mood at present couldn’t have been a better one. Ignoring the various equipment and scattered weights left scattered about, she headed towards the back office and opened the door without bothering to knock. Benji was hunched in his chair over a tablet, his finger flicking absently over the digital face. “Closed, bud. Sorry ya didn’t catch me earlier.” When he looked up after the door remained open, his mood shifted slightly to express an almost grateful smile. “Oh, Chance. Ya caught me offguard.”

“I’ve heard that before.” The Fae mused quietly as she retrieved a small envelope from her purse. Extending it towards the male, she nodded slowly. “I’ve come for my part of the contract.”

His eyes ventured to the letter, then back up to Chance, before he took it from her hand. “Yeah? Don’t tell me you want someone dead… I’ve never been a killer. I just don’t got it in me.”

“No, not dead. Actually, you’re just going to play messenger for me.” The Fae explained when the note had exchanged hands. “Deliver this to who I ask you to deliver it to, and we’ll be even. Completely square.”

“You throw close to a million credits at me, and you want me to deliver a note? Really?” Placing the object of interest on his desk, his palms rose to brush over his features. “Are you sure this isn’t like, I dunno, a hit notice? Fuck, you’ve got me panicking and I-”

“No, champ.” Chance replied, her demeanor calm and her voice remaining airy and light. “Nothing to do with anyone dying.”

“Then who am I gonna be giving this to?”

“Oh, you’re going to give it to Daddy, of course.” The mask of calmness split into an all too pleased grin. “I just heard he’ll be on the station in a few days.”

The air around them was suddenly thick with jealousy, which immediately sparked a sense of wanton deep in the Fae, though she would do her best to ignore it’s presence. “Why can’t you fucking give it to him?”

“That wouldn’t be nearly as entertaining. A woman must remain mysterious, after all. Besides, you can believe that he’ll find me when he reads it.”

Benji snorted before expelling an audible sigh of disappointment. “I know I can’t give ya anything you don’t already have, but couldn’t you give me a better job than tracking down some guy you haven’t fucked in a while? What makes you think he isn’t avoiding you?”

Chance clicked her heels with every step, hard against the off-white flooring, before resting her rear on the corner of the desk. “He has been avoiding me, actually… But when he knows I know he’s around… Well, that’s when the fun starts. He won’t be able to pass me up. Now, this is your side of the contract- can I trust you to deliver this to Eneru Killian?”

Begrudgingly, Benji nodded and waved a hand before lighting up a cigarette. “Fine. Fine? I’ll do it, alright?”

Quickly, Chance leaned towards the ex-boxer and placed a kiss on his cheek. “Check your email for the address. Just, you know, don’t fail me.” Or else.

Chance left the same way she had come, feeling accomplished for the first time in almost a year. Time moved so slowly here with the mortals, so when an event as important as Eneru’s arrival introduced itself into the mix, Chance felt obligated to put forth her best effort. Of course, she had never specified Benji couldn’t read what she had written, though the words would mean little, written in a language long dead. Still, Eneru would understand. If nothing else, he would appreciate the sentiment - or completely detest it. Either way, he would come to her.

‘Remember when I cooked for you? Let me do it again. I’ve gotten much better since the last time. I promise.’

---

RE: Momento Mori [Closed] - Chris - 11-12-2016

Benji wasn't notably thrilled playing Chance's messenger, conjuring storms of obscenities that left passersby staring confused. Remarkably agitated and visibly frustrated, Benji seemed unfit to expel that heavy cloud of jealously hovering his person. This was absolute horseshit - or so the ex-boxer liked to believe, vainly attempting to cling to optimism and the ominous blue light toward the end of his tunnel. Praying to whatever supremacy he disturbed did it get his employer's tight sex around his cock despite being the source to his predicament. A champion this side of the galaxy one day turned hired paranoid schizophrenic the next. A tragedy in the works, scrambling his sights to the furthest corners of his sockets for anything, or, anyone deemed abnormal. "You're the fucking champ.... You ARE the fucking champ," he chanted, placing emphasis and other inflections to soothe his crumbling psyche. Because no matter the countless attempts he analyzed his dilemma to the narrowest detail, Chance's plated morsel could not make sense regarding their agreement and her end of the bargain.

Who in their right temperament offered close to a million credits and a week of the most unbelievable, euphoric sexual intercourse, and in return, wanted a measly letter delivered? A lonely housewife? A hired gun? A vengeful spirit? Benji, in his famed days, was a suffering, pretentious asshole who hurt plenty of people, but the former professional believed he learned a thing or two about humility since the fall of his career. So who or what had been preying on his paranoia? A rabbit unaware of the wolf lying wait in the blades of the grass. How visible had the messenger's difficulty shaken him to the core? Once a man who confidently stepped into the ring with the strongest foes across the hub station now incapable of keeping his trembling hand steady.

"You're the FUCKING champ. You're THEE fucking champ..."

Reciting his chant had little to no effect on his diminishing confidence; a testament to the concealed firearm he kept strapped underneath his leather jacket. Benji swallowed hard, wiping the beading sweat accumulating on and around his forehead with his sleeve. The longer he reflected, the more unhinged he dangerously became, reaching a set of quivering digits within his jacket to retrieve the item in question. Chance hadn't given her mark enough reason not to suspect her, examining the content of her message the first opportunity he received. Only, he couldn't. Written in a language foreign to him, Benji tormented himself concerning his inattentiveness during Sunday school. Given his teachers taught this matter of importance at all, Benji did not remember. Raveled and desperate, poor Benji sought a promise, a hope, a wish, a prospect shining it's divine light to rid the malevolent distortions his mind played.

"I... am the fucking champ. I'm the fucking CHAMP."

"You waiting on someone?"

A heart skip. Subconsciously, within that brief lapse of reciting a therapeutic chant, Benji had closed his eyes and crumbled Chance's message. Lifting his lids from their shut state, the messenger started feet first before his gaze traveled upward upon the towering figure, tattooed up to the throat, that stood before him. In a sweeping motion of realization, it became a no-brainer why Chance called him Daddy.

"E... Eneru Killian?"

---

Eneru, by nature, was a curious spirit. Adventuring the far reaches of Mother Gaia for undiscovered places to see and new sights to behold. So when the convenience emerged to travel among the stars to lands unimaginable, the man gathered the little things he owned and took the first shuttle out with optimistic enthusiasm. Although, the further he strayed from Gaia, reflection crept to the forefront of his mind upon learning the presence of a particular individual he could still call his beloved. A buxom blonde with, in her words, "long legs, an ass to write anthems over, and the best set of tits anyone would likely see." The very same who Eneru had the privilege of penetrating over countless days and restless nights. Eneru couldn't recall a singular moment he releases as blissfully as he does in Chance. Envision that crafty smirk the mauve-topped male curled upon learning he'd be with her soon enough and the likeliness he'd be between supple thighs once more. His patience, naturally unlimited, grew thin and the Incubus distracted himself with what he could to suppress the immoral fantasies that plagued his given nature. One could imagine his excitement earlier when learning him and the newest arrivals aboard the craft would be docking soon. Hastily buckling into his seat, the final remaining minutes were seconds in the mind of Chance's beau, toying with scenarios he'd probably find himself in.

After docking smoothly into the spaceport, the hulk-size of man stood upright, smoothed out his black peacoat, and grabbed a sizeable gym bag he strapped around his neck and shoulder. Little had changed about him in last two-hundred and fifty or so years with the exception of a few noticeable differences. Most strikingly was the tattoo piece inked onto his throat and imaginably down his torso and arms and the light tan he unassumingly received during his time on a much warmer Gaia. It mattered not, confident his pale complexion would return naturally given the lack of sunlight in the hub metropolis. Lastly, a few more secrets he discreetly carried for inappropriate reasons. What those secrets entailed would be revealed later at more private setting that involved tangled linens and immoral noises. With that said, Eneru was more-or-less the same; recalling how far along it's been since his introduction to Miss Arden. Discussions saved for later at the hiss of the spacecraft's rear door opening.

And without warning... it struck him.

Observing the awaiting crowd, Eneru scanned foreign faces for the source of it. A smell undoubtedly belonging to his busty blonde. Narrowing his glacial gaze on the person far removed within this picture perfect moment, the Incubus marched without hesitation in his step. Reaching him, Chance's suitor paused momentarily to look over the man in question visibly rattled and fumbling over something in hand. His brow arched while tilting his head in question to what had the man so shaken? Curious and eager to learn, Eneru made himself known despite the primal instinct to amputate Chance's messenger limb by limb.

"You waiting on someone?"

Eneru's question appeared to have snapped the messenger out of whatever trance he was in, inquiring if the Incubus was in fact Eneru Killian. Benji's answer came in a nodding gesture, fixed on his silence and the crumbled paper he finally delivered at the request of Chance. Looking over the genuine request, the mauve-topped recipient fixed his eerie blues on the former boxer broken beyond repair had no one told him what was written. Flipping the letter for the stranger, he asked, "Do you know what this says?" Offered a head shake resulted a faint chuckle escaping the newest foreigner, formulating answers to soothe Benji's paranoia. "It says she wants to cook for me and how much better she's gotten since the last time we had dinner."

Palming his features, Benji inhaled deeply to absorb every bit of stress and anxiety coursing through his veins and released a heavy sigh of relief. Hand on his heart, Benji projected a beaming smile and the teeth he lost during his time in the ring. "Thank the man upstairs for that, huh?" A laugh that dabbled between comfort and nervousness erupted from the messenger, jabbing Eneru's arm regrettably so in that fleeing instance he withdrew his arm. "Sorry," he apologized, doing his most to recover from the awkward gesture.

"Solid jab. You box?" The Incubus questioned, collecting the pieces to his riddle that sounded most logical. Holding a keen eye for detail, what Benji was obliviously unaware of was the information Eneru drafted to conclude Benji's circumstance and where Chance fitted in the pattern. Y'see, Chance's beau knew the sort of victims she marked for Loe's appetite and Benji checked off every box on the list.

"Yeah, well, used to. It kinda fell apart after losin' to a guy called Leo Oskatar. Been tryin' to find my way back to the top ever since."

Lowlife. No surprise there. Still, Eneru put out a surprised face upon learning the revelation. Falsely playing the nice guy, Chance's Daddy hummed an inaudible growl regarding his future plan of action. Two steps ahead and never one behind, he perked upright after deciding his next maneuver.

"You can tell me all about it. Can I bother you to escort me to where Chance is living though?" The question seemed genuine enough, however, listening to his sob story on how his life got twisted, turned upside-down would be the real bore.

"Y-Yeah, sure man... Got a debt to repay, y'know?" Benji agreed, turning his back to the man one moment before the nurtured response to glance back kicked in to see how Eneru answered.

The Incubus followed at his side, displaying a smile here and there whenever Benji stole a glance, seemingly at attention and focused on what Benji spewed. Solely the importance bits were absorbed, his mind distant and elsewhere as they traveled across a plane of smog and other technicolored haziness in what he assumed was the lower sector's red light district -- the type of place accustomed to Chance who undoubtedly felt more at home portraying herself an immaculate street urchin in her shorter than norm' skirt, high stilettos, and top that emphasized her abundant bosom. Meanwhile, Benji continued mouthing his fight with Leo, why he didn't pace himself against a younger fighter, how his career fell into shambles, and what steps he took to step back into the spotlight. Eneru felt Benji purposely held out on information regarding his connection with Chance, but that could be answered by the Fae herself later.

After an hour or two commute, the pair arrived at the high rise tower Chance resided comfortably in the richest penthouse credits could buy; the timing couldn't be nothing short than perfect as Eneru was idly running out of things to keep their conversation from becoming awkwardly silent. Benji's mission may have finished, however, his presence was greatly required for the schemes Eneru plotted. Currently standing in the tower's main lobby, Benji was ready to escape the clutches Eneru precisely prepared -- A wolf concealed in the blades of the grass, masking his presence as the kill grew closer with every soundless step. As much as Eneru wished to do Benji harm, he rather enjoy his team slowly stealing the life from him. "Thanks again for your services. I'll be sure to tell Chance the fine job you did today."

Benji, relishing in his accomplishment, gave an acknowledging nod of approval. Nearing the finish line, Chance's messenger seemed more than happy to finish her bargain and never look back. After all, Benji IS the fucking champ and he couldn't imagine the shitshow that would ensue if Eneru ever found out he fucked his broad for a week straight. "Just glad I held up my side of the bargain." Rotating on his heel, Benji readied himself to exit without a word. Although, Eneru's voice surprisingly sprung out, requesting the messenger stay for a drink. Snickering, the former boxer thought longer than normally with a plan to exploit Chance for more credits to keep his silence. If Benji's intuition proved to be correct then he could safely assume the couple were an item - adding a stain in their relationship the pair would have to fix themselves for the meltdown he had earlier that evening.

"I wouldn't want to impose, but if you're offering... how can I deny?"

Bait taken, Eneru nudged his unruly mauve mane toward the elevator they had to ride up to the penthouse. Once inside, and what appeared to be an eternity of silence, the Incubus sighed as to what had to be done: install the horror Benji learned earlier. Simply put, "I know you fucked Chance."

Benji had never felt his heart drop quicker than it did in that moment, imprisoned by foolish arrogance and narcissistic greed. Dread reared it's ugly head back, learning the predator he blindly believed he avoided severed any chance of escaping. His quiver returned, catching Eneru from the furthest corner of his gaze removing his bag. An opportunity arose to back himself against a wall and withdraw the pistol he wished he needn't use. Recalling what he admitted to Chance regarding his lacking intent to murder, his primal instinct to survive made the decision a lot easier. "B-Back up man! I swear, I didn't know!" Benji pleaded, unsteady and desperate to get out.

"Look! This shouldn't resort to violence! Let's let bygones be bygones!"

"Afraid I can't." Eneru, surprisingly calm and collected, massaged the cramp in his neck and stretched the muscles with several head swivels.

"WHY NOT?!" Benji demanded, finger on the trigger should Chance's suitor made a move.

"I made a contract too. That she'd be mine forever and those who viewed her the same as I would learn the terrors of my rage." The Incubus turned his gaze on the messenger, lifting his leg to step forward and teach Benji the dreams in his m--

BANG!

Blinking, Eneru stared soundlessly at the smoke fuming from the barrel of the pistol down to the bullet casing rolling around their feet. Confusion settled in, calculating where Benji summoned his courage from and the orifice the bullet shot through. A set of digits arose to examine the damage done and smeared crimson against his fingertips. The Incubus's attention again turned to Benji displaying a mixture of emotions that ran from confusion to disbelief. But the question remained: weren't victims suppose to go down after landing a point blank shot? Eneru, still standing, shook his head disappointingly at the poor messenger before closing the mere inches that separated the two with a lead foot in.

Powerless, Benji squeezed out several additional shots seemingly ineffective in stopping the man's charge. In that fleeing second, Eneru's hand clenched Benji's features and blanketed his world in black.

---

"Oh God..."

Was his first thought upon waking from his unconsciousness. Bounded at his wrists and ankles, Benji swerved his head left then right then left again to evaluate his surroundings and the shapes that became no clearer despite his best attempts to concentrate. His head throbbed and pulsated with a swelling pain, sensing a substance beading down his temple and cheek from where the source of his pain originated. Deep breaths helped soothed his condition, shapes became sharper and bent into their natural silhouette. Perked at the sound of clicking heels, his muffled cries of assistance were silenced by a single silver strip of tape. No mattered how strongly he jerked to break free from his restraints, Benji gradually learned he was powerless in his hazed ailment. Minutes passed as he allowed himself to breathe, restoring his most advantageous sense: sight. After swallowing every bit of information, Benji concluded he was exactly where he needed to be for that promised drink: Chance's apartment. A door opened and Benji shifted to see who exited, predicting Chance tearfully mourning the lost of her beloved. Instead, Benji was treated to see Eneru alive and well, traveling across the hardwood floors with a towel draped over his mauve mane and his spaded appendage aimlessly fluttering behind him. What perplexed Benji however was the little to zero scarring his body adorned when he certainly fired several rounds into the Incubus.

Like the tail wasn't complex enough...

Eneru did not concern himself with Benji's condition, ignoring his muffled cries after fitting himself black spandex that placed emphasis on his rigid stature. Turning his back against his would be murderer hadn't he possess extraordinary healing factors, the Incubus carried himself into the kitchen his most beloved partner prepared the finishing touches on their dinner. Quietly did he traverse across the wooden planes, slipping his arms around Chance's hourglass figure as he left a kiss against her temple, dotting his trail down her neck and along her shoulder blade. "Smells amazing, dearest. But I have to ask," he paused, shifting his sights on her ample bottom he pressed himself again, "did your ass get bigger? You're fuller in places that get me hard just thinking about." Teasing was Eneru's strong suit, sliding a hand down to pull at the dress and knead his fingers into the supple flesh before offering a squeeze. Despite the centuries that passed the couple, Eneru was absurdly ill-advised to think Chance would learn to wear undergarments. Still, easy access shouldn't be frowned upon should he feel the need to ravish her sinful figure.

"Hopefully, the food shouldn't compare to what I most want to taste..."

Sliding an index along her entrance, her beau lifted the finger to lips to relish and savor the nectar only Chance could provide.

"Heavenly."

---

RE: Momento Mori [Closed] - Kat - 01-14-2017

A data screen was spread in digital compliance, an encompassing barrier of information tracking notes and various keywords the Fae had flagged as important. Some were as simple as 'bakery', 'cinnamon', and 'units of measurement', but others held an air of mystery, like 'Kali' and 'Exodus', with no explanation in sight. Regardless the purpose of the listed words hidden in the annals of countless forgotten tabs stretched over the face of the display, Chance wasn't focused on these secondary projects while her company was expected to arrive at any moment. She felt him approaching, infinitesimal hairs trailing the back of her neck rising in anticipation, and even while she felt Benji in tow, there was no mistake that any loose ends would be tied up without unnecessary incident. After all, Chance still thought highly of her long separated partner and knew he was more than capable of tending to business without her consent.

Whether Eneru arrived splattered in gore or not had no lasting effect on the felicity she would be overcome with by having been reunited with her Incubus.

In was in this vein of thought that the Fae tucked away her collection of clutter to clear the countertop of her kitchen, the instruments needed for the meal all gathered neatly next to the expanse of her intended work area. So thoroughly engulfed in the act of properly orienting her kitchen based operation, the buxom blonde heard only the faintest whisper from the gunshots. Her head tilted, seconds counted as they passed until the door to her apartment was opened and a hulking figure carrying what appeared to be a body slipped inside. "Oh." She said shortly, half expectant to receive a swell of emotional reaction from Eneru, but perhaps she was remembering their arrangement in a romantic sense. His decision to drop Benji into a messy crumple of disheveled unconsciousness in the hallway earned a few throaty tuts from Chance, her tongue clicking in disappointment, though she offered no further dialogue.

The shower ran in the background as the scantily clad creature traipsed toward Benji's miserable body, her bare toes skirting the bloody cloth outlining his muscled torso. Not his blood, she decided as her lashes narrowed scrutinizingly. Knowing Benji, he had considered a gun to be the proper method to dispose of Eneru with but learned through trial and error that his consideration was wrong. Circumstances like these reminded the Fae why she was lacking in connections. Her choice in brokerage decisions often left much to be desired, and in Benji's case, she had received nothing from his services but the roundabout invitation he delivered before loading the Incubus full of bullets. At the thought of the insult, threaded tendrils branched from the shadows, familiar hisses escaping the serpentine darkness as it wrapped lithely around the once great boxer. Propping Benji against the far wall, Chance returned to her task with a string of short hums dispelling the atmosphere of despair.

Eneru's departure from the back bathroom came in tandem with Chance preparing the final touches on her promised home cooked meal, the dishes served on sealed platters that had already been carried to the dining room table. With Laurie available as a personal assistant, the Vereaux often taxed the Arden to the extent of her capabilities with her countless objectives and limited timeframes for their deadlines. Tonight was a reprieve of sorts for Laurie, an opportunity to step aside when all the dust cleared and plans were in motion. A silent signal was issued from the blonde as Eneru padded closer, and when we rounded the corner to cross the hardwood flooring, Laurie's existence vanished back to the passage of the umbra parallel to Chance's apartment. Whether she waited to be summoned or watched the entire evening, Chance didn't care.

Honestly, with how excited she was to be in the company of the mauve topped demon, she hardly considered the outside elements of their environment. Even Benji had been forgotten, still snuggly captive in the obsidian tangle of obtenebration. All that mattered in her world was the immense relief his embrace caused her, strong arms wrapping her busty frame in a hug from behind that received a sweet sigh of affection from the Fae. "Says the one now built like a brick house." Also content to tease the handsome beast occupying her rear, Chance's head craned obediently for the line of kisses to be issued, their warmth an almost palpable decadence left hanging in the atmosphere. The tide of emotions felt swelled around the duo, an otherworldly clash of dueling psyches finding complacency in the intimacy of one another's touch.

"What a tease..."

As thick fingers coasted lower to delve between her thighs, Chance pushed the cheeks of her ass tightly against Eneru's outlined bulge to grind eagerly before she straightened again with the wave of one manicured set of digits. "Don't tempt me, Darling- you know I'm a slave to my instincts." Leaving her dismissal open-ended, a pair of champagne flutes were taken in her grasp to be carried to the spread dominating her dining table. "Let's play catch up, Eneru." Stepping away from the much larger male, the curvaceous femme led the pair to the room attached, offering him the first true exposure to her culinary plans. Traditional was best, she felt, with Blanquette de Veau as the main dish and a red Bordeaux for their wine. Red wine was preferred with a veal dish, after all. Taking a seat at one end of the table, Chance motioned for her beau to follow suit, her lips pursed in a small smirk.

"I'm happy you decided to come."

---