"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.
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.
Dreams come in a size too big so we can grow into them.
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Wicked, Wanton, and Wired [Closed] - by Blade - 08-12-2015, 09:09 AM
Wicked, Wanton, and Wired [Closed] - by Blade - 08-12-2015, 11:52 AM
Wicked, Wanton, and Wired [Closed] - by danixiewrites - 08-12-2015, 04:31 PM
Wicked, Wanton, and Wired [Closed] - by Blade - 08-12-2015, 06:00 PM
Wicked, Wanton, and Wired [Closed] - by danixiewrites - 08-12-2015, 10:50 PM
Wicked, Wanton, and Wired [Closed] - by Blade - 08-12-2015, 11:56 PM
Wicked, Wanton, and Wired [Closed] - by danixiewrites - 08-13-2015, 02:43 PM
Wicked, Wanton, and Wired [Closed] - by Blade - 08-13-2015, 08:35 PM
Wicked, Wanton, and Wired [Closed] - by danixiewrites - 08-14-2015, 10:38 AM
Wicked, Wanton, and Wired [Closed] - by Blade - 08-14-2015, 11:58 AM
Wicked, Wanton, and Wired [Closed] - by danixiewrites - 08-16-2015, 12:17 AM
Wicked, Wanton, and Wired [Closed] - by Blade - 08-16-2015, 10:55 AM
Wicked, Wanton, and Wired [Closed] - by danixiewrites - 08-16-2015, 10:32 PM
Wicked, Wanton, and Wired [Closed] - by Blade - 08-17-2015, 06:05 AM
Wicked, Wanton, and Wired [Closed] - by danixiewrites - 08-17-2015, 04:52 PM
Wicked, Wanton, and Wired [Closed] - by Blade - 08-17-2015, 06:18 PM
Wicked, Wanton, and Wired [Closed] - by danixiewrites - 08-18-2015, 10:50 AM
Wicked, Wanton, and Wired [Closed] - by Blade - 08-18-2015, 07:23 PM
Wicked, Wanton, and Wired [Closed] - by danixiewrites - 08-19-2015, 05:14 PM
Wicked, Wanton, and Wired [Closed] - by Blade - 08-19-2015, 08:45 PM
Wicked, Wanton, and Wired [Closed] - by danixiewrites - 08-20-2015, 11:27 AM
Wicked, Wanton, and Wired [Closed] - by Blade - 08-20-2015, 01:15 PM
Wicked, Wanton, and Wired [Closed] - by danixiewrites - 08-21-2015, 03:31 PM
Wicked, Wanton, and Wired [Closed] - by Blade - 08-21-2015, 07:21 PM
Wicked, Wanton, and Wired [Closed] - by danixiewrites - 08-24-2015, 11:01 AM
Wicked, Wanton, and Wired [Closed] - by Blade - 08-24-2015, 05:04 PM
Wicked, Wanton, and Wired [Closed] - by danixiewrites - 09-01-2015, 08:32 PM
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
RE: Wicked, Wanton, and Wired [Closed] - by danixiewrites - 11-22-2015, 04:49 PM
RE: Wicked, Wanton, and Wired [Closed] - by Blade - 11-22-2015, 08:44 PM
RE: Wicked, Wanton, and Wired [Closed] - by danixiewrites - 11-24-2015, 04:07 PM
RE: Wicked, Wanton, and Wired [Closed] - by Blade - 11-24-2015, 05:52 PM
RE: Wicked, Wanton, and Wired [Closed] - by danixiewrites - 12-09-2015, 01:06 PM
RE: Wicked, Wanton, and Wired [Closed] - by Blade - 01-15-2016, 03:06 AM
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