Fate imagined she spent quite a lot of her time laughing, when she wasn't panicked out of her mind at the bottom of a pit. So when she began to do so more easily, less edged by hysteria, he felt some relief lighten the tension in his muscles.
"I'm not at all hard to get," he admitted with a wry smile, still sending both voice and text simultaneously. "To get to, maybe. But my pants unzip just like any other pair in front of a naked, willing woman." He chuckled. "Fast and a little bit desperately, oh baby, yeah."
Probably he shouldn't have been talking to her about unzipping his pants and probably he shouldn't have been getting hard thinking about doing so in a bedroom. With her. Wet and juicy and ready as those pictures. But damn. His mind couldn't seem to stop circling back to the very personal porn she'd shunted his way.
"Wearing? You really need to focus on getting out of there, not getting me out of my jeans." He almost choked around the words. Jeans, yes. Very uncomfortable jeans. A short-sleeved T that was feeling as overly warm as his face and that made him think he must have been blushing. Fuck, why was he blushing?! Maybe he shouldn't have felt bad at all. Dirty talk certainly seemed the most likely to bring her around. "Rage. Focus up, hotlips. I'm sending you an assist but it's really difficult to tell an android which direction to go when I can only think filthy, filthy things."
Fuck, he shouldn't have admitted that. FUCK, why was that word so prevalent around Rage? She had no way of knowing just how riled she got him--and it was five thousand times worse now that he knew the reality of Robin Goodfellow. All those times they'd played tag in the field, all those ops she'd screwed with...to get his attention? Just because? "Why would you ever make me think you were a man?" Fate blinked at his screens and the folder of pics came up. For research purposes. And then because it seemed his theory on distracting her from her surroundings with, well, him, was working..."This toy that you're playing with in the last one...you got that on you?" he asked absently, as if she weren't fighting for air and sanity. "Course whether you do or not will depend on you getting out of there..."
Hazel eyes honed in on the code tenderly working its way across his screen, like she was playing with his code from any and every angle she could. Unraveling, multitasking like he did but on a more...organic level. It wasn't exactly feminine per say...but it was art. Is that how she sees everything I send her? Is that how she writes everything she sends me? "Stars, Rage," he breathed. "Your brain is infinitely fascinating."
He laughed as she called him out. "I'm not sending you dick pics. It's just not happening."Right this second. At the name-calling burnt orange eyebrows went up and he nodded as he recognized her trying to talk herself through the fear. "You've got this."
Evidently she had--and she was also very, very well-armed. "Fuck," he said quietly, almost reverent for all that he was swearing at her--again--and hadn't gotten any more creative about it since his brain cells were functioning somewhere between porn and rescue modes. Unsuccessfully focusing on both. "Have you been carrying those the whole time?" What a dumb-ass question. If he hadn't been standing his head would've smacked against the top of his desk. Luckily she asked a more intelligent question, and his fingers clamped around the edge of the workstation as he answered, "It's a tiger. Rawr."
Which was not at all the elaborate backstory she was probably hoping for.
"I'm not at all hard to get," he admitted with a wry smile, still sending both voice and text simultaneously. "To get to, maybe. But my pants unzip just like any other pair in front of a naked, willing woman." He chuckled. "Fast and a little bit desperately, oh baby, yeah."
Probably he shouldn't have been talking to her about unzipping his pants and probably he shouldn't have been getting hard thinking about doing so in a bedroom. With her. Wet and juicy and ready as those pictures. But damn. His mind couldn't seem to stop circling back to the very personal porn she'd shunted his way.
"Wearing? You really need to focus on getting out of there, not getting me out of my jeans." He almost choked around the words. Jeans, yes. Very uncomfortable jeans. A short-sleeved T that was feeling as overly warm as his face and that made him think he must have been blushing. Fuck, why was he blushing?! Maybe he shouldn't have felt bad at all. Dirty talk certainly seemed the most likely to bring her around. "Rage. Focus up, hotlips. I'm sending you an assist but it's really difficult to tell an android which direction to go when I can only think filthy, filthy things."
Fuck, he shouldn't have admitted that. FUCK, why was that word so prevalent around Rage? She had no way of knowing just how riled she got him--and it was five thousand times worse now that he knew the reality of Robin Goodfellow. All those times they'd played tag in the field, all those ops she'd screwed with...to get his attention? Just because? "Why would you ever make me think you were a man?" Fate blinked at his screens and the folder of pics came up. For research purposes. And then because it seemed his theory on distracting her from her surroundings with, well, him, was working..."This toy that you're playing with in the last one...you got that on you?" he asked absently, as if she weren't fighting for air and sanity. "Course whether you do or not will depend on you getting out of there..."
Hazel eyes honed in on the code tenderly working its way across his screen, like she was playing with his code from any and every angle she could. Unraveling, multitasking like he did but on a more...organic level. It wasn't exactly feminine per say...but it was art. Is that how she sees everything I send her? Is that how she writes everything she sends me? "Stars, Rage," he breathed. "Your brain is infinitely fascinating."
He laughed as she called him out. "I'm not sending you dick pics. It's just not happening."Right this second. At the name-calling burnt orange eyebrows went up and he nodded as he recognized her trying to talk herself through the fear. "You've got this."
Evidently she had--and she was also very, very well-armed. "Fuck," he said quietly, almost reverent for all that he was swearing at her--again--and hadn't gotten any more creative about it since his brain cells were functioning somewhere between porn and rescue modes. Unsuccessfully focusing on both. "Have you been carrying those the whole time?" What a dumb-ass question. If he hadn't been standing his head would've smacked against the top of his desk. Luckily she asked a more intelligent question, and his fingers clamped around the edge of the workstation as he answered, "It's a tiger. Rawr."
Which was not at all the elaborate backstory she was probably hoping for.
Dreams come in a size too big so we can grow into them.
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RE: Wicked, Wanton, and Wired [Closed] - by Blade - 11-20-2015, 10:50 PM
RE: Wicked, Wanton, and Wired [Closed] - by danixiewrites - 11-21-2015, 07:12 PM
RE: Wicked, Wanton, and Wired [Closed] - by Blade - 11-21-2015, 09:43 PM
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RE: Wicked, Wanton, and Wired [Closed] - by danixiewrites - 02-22-2016, 07:24 PM
RE: Wicked, Wanton, and Wired [Closed] - by Blade - 03-04-2016, 05:08 AM