[Oh. That takes her by surprise, and she sinks back a bit.]
That's not something you have to worry about. I don't do things I don't want to do, it's that simple. And my rule is this: Remember that this isn't a favor. We see eye to eye and we've got an opportunity to help each other out. It's a friendly agreement, and I do mean friendly.
[When a man asks for help, you help him—she's just saving them both the trouble of asking. Or, rather, she's offering instead of asking. Both of them could get by without the other, and she'd put money that she needs him more than he needs her. At least her knack for charming others can actually be useful, here. There's gotta be useful stuff in that gift shop.
She stands up on tiptoe to plant a kiss on his cheek.]
This isn't the Hunger Games, is what I'm saying.
[For the moment, she retreats, but not before tapping a finger to the bottom of the water glass.]
Pitter patter. I'm off to clean up, so you focus on sobering up.
[And with that she heads off to the bathroom. She's still covered in blood and I keep forgetting about it so now she's just gonna shower rq.]
[He grunts in reply, a wordless acknowledgement, but he does drink up-- and further, gets another glass, so by the time she returns, he's far more stable. The good thing about being a drunk: not only can you think through it pretty easily, but you sober up fast too. Sometimes way too fast, honestly, but that's neither here nor there. It means he's up and standing, idly staring at his clamshell of a phone, waiting for her.
Are they going to fuck tonight? He honestly isn't sure. He isn't opposed, actually, now that she's said all that. It feels far less like taking advantage.]
[She appreciates the effort, good buddy. She laughs to herself, still in the shower as she wrings her hair out. God, she needed that.]
You've got more, do you? Hmm...
[She lets the pause linger until she's back in the living room, all clean and toweled off and, well, in a towel. Of the two sets of clothing she has here, one is soaked through with the blood and the other... eh. A towel is about par for the course when you're factoring fabric-to-skin ratios, anyway.
Oh, good, he drank the water. Or just poured it down the sink, maybe, but he's not wobbling as much as he was a few minutes ago. That'll do.]
One is probably that I don't call you "daddy", right?
[JUST SAYING. God. He grimaces as he looks at her, and yes, okay, it's . . . far more appreciatively, let's say, than before. She's wearing nothing but a towel, and he's not blind. Her skin glistens in the low light, her hair wet and sticking to her skin, and yeah, okay, he's definitely paying her attention.]
But if you're dying to call me that, sweetheart, all you gotta do is ask.
[Is that a joke??? Who knows. She grabs her clamshell off the counter, but opens up the rulebook instead.]
You know, I had a thought about the rules, now that you mention it. That recording said everyone turned on each other or something, right? I'm not seeing a reason for that to happen yet. One of these rules is probably meant to shake up some conflicting opinions... Maybe one's about the sex bucks system.
I want to test out that app, the one that gives you money for sex. If we're lucky, maybe we can get ahead of the rules and figure this out faster. To start: What counts as sex?
[She glances over to one of the living room chairs and nods for him to make himself comfortable. She just assumes he won't be opposed to this plan.]
Masturbation's out. Not shocking, but still worth testing.
I can be anything I feel like. You're still getting a freebie.
[She gives him a smirk and then glides over to straddle him, the towel still clinging to her, but just barely. It'd be easier to drop it now, but she's testing him as much as the app. It's one of her favorite parts of sex, making a move just to see how her partner will react. Everyone's a little different. How long before he rips off the towel himself? We'll have to see.]
But for the record, this will be well worth your time.
[She breathes the last words against his lips and lingers there a hair too long before kissing him. She did promise to let Nathan in for a shower and a couch to sleep on after she's done here, but she's the one doing him a favor. If he has to wait outside for an extra few minutes because she wanted to take her time, so be it. On with the preamble.]
[There's no hesitancy to the way he gathers her up, one arm wrapping around her waist and the other bracing on her hip. No hesitancy, too, to the way he kisses: tasting of drink, yes, but with enough finesse that she can't possibly call him sloppy. Slow to start, but quickening the longer she keeps at it, and her official answer is this: a minute and a half before his hand rises, rough fingers tracing over heated skin, pushing that towel up and away. It falls in a satisfying heap, but he doesn't pull back right away.
No, instead: he kisses her hungrily, his teeth nipping at the very end, just so he can be the one to draw back slowly. If she wants control, he's more than content to give it to her, but she's not gonna get away with being bossy all the time. His hand rises, gripping her ass tightly, hips rocking up pointedly. He's already stirring beneath his trousers, but that's not much of a shock, is it?]
[She gasps as he scoops her up, but good, he's not all talk, either. He's every bit as confident as he should be, and fuck if it isn't a welcomed change. He holds her steady with strong arms and practiced hands, and there's none of the fumbling to tug his cock out at the first opportunity, the rush to see her naked—he takes his time with the towel, but she gasps again as his fingers brush her bare skin.
Mm, it's tempting to say fuck the plan and let this happen. She's gone over a week now with just a shitty vibrator and her fingers to get the job done, and now that she's in his lap, it's going to take real effort to leave. He's warm and rough and sharper than he should be by the taste of him, but it's not as if her head isn't swimming, too. It's the scratch of his beard against her lips and the weight of his arms around her that keeps her tethered.
With the towel gone, she rises on her knees, arching to press her body flush with his. Her hands splay over his chest to relish the feel of him under her, the heat of him, and as her hands dip, the stiffness gathering between his legs. Atta boy. She's warming up herself.
Which means it's time to dial it down, before she really loses her way. It's perfect timing, too, as that's when he pulls back. She lets him, running the back of her hand over her lips before returning to his chest, his shoulders...]
You're gonna be trouble, I can tell.
[It's meant to pad his ego, but she's not lying. At this rate, he's going to be as useful as he is distracting.]
[The sharp grin she gets in response suggests she'd padded his ego nicely either way. Honestly, she probably is being honest; he has a feeling she'd tell him if he were lacking in any way. She presses herself forward, and his first thought-- shy?-- before realizing that she's trying to keep this from going too fast. Which, shit, talk about padding his ego . . .]
You sure you want this to be your skimp out session?
[He stares up at her, chest rising and falling beneath her wandering hands, taking a moment to do nothing but look. Her skin's already flushed, and the curve of her chest leaves him aching to do nothing but put his mouth to her.]
I could still fuck you against the wall, you know.
[She bites her lip with a petulant little groan. No, she's certainly not sure now, thanks, asshole. She's more pent up than she realized, and the prospect of him trapping her between his body and the wall is... Yeah, he's trouble. Already. Fuck.
It takes effort, but she shakes her head and gives his shoulder a half-hearted punch.]
Careful, I might start to think we're not just here in the pursuit of knowledge.
[She unfolds herself from his lap and slides down to kneel between his legs, her hands trailing after her, nails scraping their way down his torso. She'll get him properly naked next time... For now, her fingers move for his trousers, tracing the outline of him against the fabric—which doesn't help to quell the thought of him railing her against the wall.]
[The next exhale he lets out is shaky, and he smooths a hand over his mouth, his legs spreading accordingly as she kneels before him. At what point had he done anything to deserve something like this? A woman way more attractive than him not just willing and eager to blow him, but eager to get naked before doing so, just so his eyes get as much of a treat as his cock.]
I bet you would.
[His fingers slide against the curve of her cheek, but though he's definitely jerking beneath her hand, nor is he overwhelmingly desperate just yet.]
[Yeah, she's been awfully benevolent in this transaction. But, hey, it was her idea to test the system. It's only fair that she be the one to pay up. Her fingers make quick work of his belt, his zipper, and then she's got him in her hand. This offer isn't entirely selfless, though; she does love sucking cock, so she'll happily take his urging to heart.
She starts out by just stroking him, but she dips in to run her tongue up the length of him just to feel him twitch. It seems she wasn't fibbing about her experience—she knows her way around a man's horn, that's for sure, and she's going to prove her worth in this equation.
Does it matter? No. He's already made it clear that it doesn't, she's not obligated, etc. But her contributions matter to her, even just as a way to show off. Not even to him, necessarily, but there's some around here that seem awful full of themselves. This will be cathartic, if nothing else.
When she finally takes him into her mouth, it's a steady, smooth motion that ends with his prick rubbing the back of her throat. It's a struggle to accommodate all of him, but it's worth the effort to see the look on his face. Her lips wrap around the base of his cock, and her tongue works him for a long few moments before she comes up for air again. He's good and hard now, and her mind briefly flashes to the notion of him pinning her against a wall, slotting himself into her, rough hands locking her in place, stubble scratching her cheek, her neck—no no, not tonight.
But it will happen, and until then, she'll have to content herself with slipping her free hand between her legs. The point is to test a one-way fuck to see if that registers with the app, but that doesn't mean he gets to have all the fun.]
[It's a low moan, a curse that's equal parts reverent and lazy. His fingers slide up slowly, smoothing through her hair and sweeping it back, pushing it out of her face as she works. Honestly, she could do nothing but those teasing little kitten-licks and he'd be just fine. All she'd have to do would be to stare up at him with those eyes and he'd be gone, just like that.]
Now . . .
[His fingers tighten in her hair, and he tugs her forward lightly, more firm suggestion than quiet demand. His voice is drawling, not an honest inquiry so much as filler as he watches her. ]
. . . if the whole point is to test the system, shouldn't you not be getting yourself off right now? Not that I'm complaining.
[Oh, that earns him a look. It's a fair question, all things considered. But. How dare?]
A little fun is hardly getting myself off. Besides, weren't you listening? Masturbation doesn't count.
[Masturbation in front of the guy you're blowing probably does, and she knows this, but let her live. Maybe he'll be too distracted to notice.
She runs her tongue over him again, making sure to take her time. God, if she doesn't love the feel of his hands in her hair though, not so subtly urging her on without any real sense of urgency. That's the difference between him and her usual lays, she realizes. Reilly, Jonesy, Stewart... They fawn over her. She's in control, without a doubt, and they'd do damn near anything to keep her around... As evidenced by that little showdown at the farm before she left. Ugh.
But Haymitch? There's something rewarding in knowing she still has to prove herself to him. Her reputation hasn't followed her here, so he's not shy about giving her shit even as she's got her face buried in his lap. It's not like it'll scare her off. He knows her better than that, and after, what, a week? It didn't take long, but honestly? It's pretty fucking simple.
She wants to be here. It's a concept she and Haymitch have addressed thoroughly by now, yes, but it's a closed issue. It's not something that needs to come up again, and he knows full well he doesn't have to waste time convincing her to stay.
Few other men seem to grasp this concept.]
Or is this just more of you trying to convince me to let you fuck me?
[It's scoffing, a disbelieving little echo even as his fingers curl tighter, tipping her head back so he can look at her properly, lips all red and swollen already.]
Like your mouth wasn't watering at the thought. Nice try, sweetheart.
[But hey: talking is well and good, he'll talk all night, but there's also other things she could be doing with her mouth. Like finishing what she started; like not leaving him aching and just a little desperate for her to start again. His hips rock forward pointedly, his hand smoothing through her hair again.]
[Those swollen little lips of her curve into a pout as he calls her bluff. She's been caught. Of course she has, because of course the thought of him fucking her has a leg up on just sucking him off. She wants those hands on her, that mouth of his...]
Oh, you'll get that chance. You're the one getting lucky tonight, but this isn't over.
[Mark her words, she is not going another week without sex. This is already pushing it. Suddenly, the experiment doesn't sound all that important. What a stupid excuse to get into his pants, since clearly that's all this was. What had he said? Stop trying to understand and start trying to survive? Hm. Which of those categories would outright fucking him fall under...?
Hm, nevermind, it doesn't matter one way or the other. She's too proud to admit he's right and too patient to cash in this early. After tonight, he'll owe her, and he's the type of man to care about that sort of thing.
She takes him in again, this time more slowly, one hand sliding over him as her tongue swirls. She's done with the teasing. Her head dips down in long, measured pulls, her pace gradually quickening as her fingers matching the rhythm. She wants to see him squirm, now. ]
[He doesn't get overwhelmed stupidly quickly, spilling off like some teenager, and that's something he bets she hasn't experienced in a while. He's sure she gets whoever she wants, but that probably means they're all just a little too eager for her. No, instead: it's a slow-building heat, steadily rising the longer she works at it.
His breath goes unsteady, that's the first sign. His fingers flexing tightly in her hair, pulling her in as his hips slowly roll forward. It's an easy gesture, one easily fought off, but he has a feeling she's not gonna mind his fucking her mouth a little.]
Shit, that's good . . .
[The sensation, sure, but the sight, the sounds, god, the fucking situation, as unreal as it is insane, and yet right now he doesn't have to think about that, he doesn't have to think about anything but what they're doing right in this moment, overwhelmingly pleasurable and perfect.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
polyapathy) wrote2019-10-12 09:47 pm
no subject
That's not something you have to worry about. I don't do things I don't want to do, it's that simple. And my rule is this: Remember that this isn't a favor. We see eye to eye and we've got an opportunity to help each other out. It's a friendly agreement, and I do mean friendly.
[When a man asks for help, you help him—she's just saving them both the trouble of asking. Or, rather, she's offering instead of asking. Both of them could get by without the other, and she'd put money that she needs him more than he needs her. At least her knack for charming others can actually be useful, here. There's gotta be useful stuff in that gift shop.
She stands up on tiptoe to plant a kiss on his cheek.]
This isn't the Hunger Games, is what I'm saying.
[For the moment, she retreats, but not before tapping a finger to the bottom of the water glass.]
Pitter patter. I'm off to clean up, so you focus on sobering up.
[And with that she heads off to the bathroom. She's still covered in blood and I keep forgetting about it so now she's just gonna shower rq.]
no subject
Are they going to fuck tonight? He honestly isn't sure. He isn't opposed, actually, now that she's said all that. It feels far less like taking advantage.]
Any guesses on what those last few rules are?
[he calls it as he hears the water stop.]
no subject
You've got more, do you? Hmm...
[She lets the pause linger until she's back in the living room, all clean and toweled off and, well, in a towel. Of the two sets of clothing she has here, one is soaked through with the blood and the other... eh. A towel is about par for the course when you're factoring fabric-to-skin ratios, anyway.
Oh, good, he drank the water. Or just poured it down the sink, maybe, but he's not wobbling as much as he was a few minutes ago. That'll do.]
One is probably that I don't call you "daddy", right?
[IT'S A JOKE.]
no subject
[JUST SAYING. God. He grimaces as he looks at her, and yes, okay, it's . . . far more appreciatively, let's say, than before. She's wearing nothing but a towel, and he's not blind. Her skin glistens in the low light, her hair wet and sticking to her skin, and yeah, okay, he's definitely paying her attention.]
But if you're dying to call me that, sweetheart, all you gotta do is ask.
no subject
Not on the first date.
[Is that a joke??? Who knows. She grabs her clamshell off the counter, but opens up the rulebook instead.]
You know, I had a thought about the rules, now that you mention it. That recording said everyone turned on each other or something, right? I'm not seeing a reason for that to happen yet. One of these rules is probably meant to shake up some conflicting opinions... Maybe one's about the sex bucks system.
[She shrugs.]
Where's your head?
no subject
[So not sober, per se, but at least able to hold a conversation.]
You ready to sleep?
[Meaning: he can fuck off and not get lost or die, which is a very real fear now, apparently.]
no subject
[She slaps at his arm and passes over her clamshell.]
I've got a theory to test before you go. But if you've got somewhere to be, by all means, don't let me keep you.
no subject
[Let us pray that isn't misunderstood.]
no subject
[She glances over to one of the living room chairs and nods for him to make himself comfortable. She just assumes he won't be opposed to this plan.]
Masturbation's out. Not shocking, but still worth testing.
no subject
If you're that eager to be generous . . .
[A beat, and he offers her half a grin.]
You better not be all talk.
no subject
[She gives him a smirk and then glides over to straddle him, the towel still clinging to her, but just barely. It'd be easier to drop it now, but she's testing him as much as the app. It's one of her favorite parts of sex, making a move just to see how her partner will react. Everyone's a little different. How long before he rips off the towel himself? We'll have to see.]
But for the record, this will be well worth your time.
[She breathes the last words against his lips and lingers there a hair too long before kissing him. She did promise to let Nathan in for a shower and a couch to sleep on after she's done here, but she's the one doing him a favor. If he has to wait outside for an extra few minutes because she wanted to take her time, so be it. On with the preamble.]
no subject
No, instead: he kisses her hungrily, his teeth nipping at the very end, just so he can be the one to draw back slowly. If she wants control, he's more than content to give it to her, but she's not gonna get away with being bossy all the time. His hand rises, gripping her ass tightly, hips rocking up pointedly. He's already stirring beneath his trousers, but that's not much of a shock, is it?]
no subject
Mm, it's tempting to say fuck the plan and let this happen. She's gone over a week now with just a shitty vibrator and her fingers to get the job done, and now that she's in his lap, it's going to take real effort to leave. He's warm and rough and sharper than he should be by the taste of him, but it's not as if her head isn't swimming, too. It's the scratch of his beard against her lips and the weight of his arms around her that keeps her tethered.
With the towel gone, she rises on her knees, arching to press her body flush with his. Her hands splay over his chest to relish the feel of him under her, the heat of him, and as her hands dip, the stiffness gathering between his legs. Atta boy. She's warming up herself.
Which means it's time to dial it down, before she really loses her way. It's perfect timing, too, as that's when he pulls back. She lets him, running the back of her hand over her lips before returning to his chest, his shoulders...]
You're gonna be trouble, I can tell.
[It's meant to pad his ego, but she's not lying. At this rate, he's going to be as useful as he is distracting.]
no subject
You sure you want this to be your skimp out session?
[He stares up at her, chest rising and falling beneath her wandering hands, taking a moment to do nothing but look. Her skin's already flushed, and the curve of her chest leaves him aching to do nothing but put his mouth to her.]
I could still fuck you against the wall, you know.
no subject
It takes effort, but she shakes her head and gives his shoulder a half-hearted punch.]
Careful, I might start to think we're not just here in the pursuit of knowledge.
[She unfolds herself from his lap and slides down to kneel between his legs, her hands trailing after her, nails scraping their way down his torso. She'll get him properly naked next time... For now, her fingers move for his trousers, tracing the outline of him against the fabric—which doesn't help to quell the thought of him railing her against the wall.]
I'll take a raincheck, though.
no subject
I bet you would.
[His fingers slide against the curve of her cheek, but though he's definitely jerking beneath her hand, nor is he overwhelmingly desperate just yet.]
Go on. Finish what you started, now.
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She starts out by just stroking him, but she dips in to run her tongue up the length of him just to feel him twitch. It seems she wasn't fibbing about her experience—she knows her way around a man's horn, that's for sure, and she's going to prove her worth in this equation.
Does it matter? No. He's already made it clear that it doesn't, she's not obligated, etc. But her contributions matter to her, even just as a way to show off. Not even to him, necessarily, but there's some around here that seem awful full of themselves. This will be cathartic, if nothing else.
When she finally takes him into her mouth, it's a steady, smooth motion that ends with his prick rubbing the back of her throat. It's a struggle to accommodate all of him, but it's worth the effort to see the look on his face. Her lips wrap around the base of his cock, and her tongue works him for a long few moments before she comes up for air again. He's good and hard now, and her mind briefly flashes to the notion of him pinning her against a wall, slotting himself into her, rough hands locking her in place, stubble scratching her cheek, her neck—no no, not tonight.
But it will happen, and until then, she'll have to content herself with slipping her free hand between her legs. The point is to test a one-way fuck to see if that registers with the app, but that doesn't mean he gets to have all the fun.]
no subject
[It's a low moan, a curse that's equal parts reverent and lazy. His fingers slide up slowly, smoothing through her hair and sweeping it back, pushing it out of her face as she works. Honestly, she could do nothing but those teasing little kitten-licks and he'd be just fine. All she'd have to do would be to stare up at him with those eyes and he'd be gone, just like that.]
Now . . .
[His fingers tighten in her hair, and he tugs her forward lightly, more firm suggestion than quiet demand. His voice is drawling, not an honest inquiry so much as filler as he watches her. ]
. . . if the whole point is to test the system, shouldn't you not be getting yourself off right now? Not that I'm complaining.
no subject
A little fun is hardly getting myself off. Besides, weren't you listening? Masturbation doesn't count.
[Masturbation in front of the guy you're blowing probably does, and she knows this, but let her live. Maybe he'll be too distracted to notice.
She runs her tongue over him again, making sure to take her time. God, if she doesn't love the feel of his hands in her hair though, not so subtly urging her on without any real sense of urgency. That's the difference between him and her usual lays, she realizes. Reilly, Jonesy, Stewart... They fawn over her. She's in control, without a doubt, and they'd do damn near anything to keep her around... As evidenced by that little showdown at the farm before she left. Ugh.
But Haymitch? There's something rewarding in knowing she still has to prove herself to him. Her reputation hasn't followed her here, so he's not shy about giving her shit even as she's got her face buried in his lap. It's not like it'll scare her off. He knows her better than that, and after, what, a week? It didn't take long, but honestly? It's pretty fucking simple.
She wants to be here. It's a concept she and Haymitch have addressed thoroughly by now, yes, but it's a closed issue. It's not something that needs to come up again, and he knows full well he doesn't have to waste time convincing her to stay.
Few other men seem to grasp this concept.]
Or is this just more of you trying to convince me to let you fuck me?
no subject
[It's scoffing, a disbelieving little echo even as his fingers curl tighter, tipping her head back so he can look at her properly, lips all red and swollen already.]
Like your mouth wasn't watering at the thought. Nice try, sweetheart.
[But hey: talking is well and good, he'll talk all night, but there's also other things she could be doing with her mouth. Like finishing what she started; like not leaving him aching and just a little desperate for her to start again. His hips rock forward pointedly, his hand smoothing through her hair again.]
I just wanna see you squirm, that's all.
no subject
Oh, you'll get that chance. You're the one getting lucky tonight, but this isn't over.
[Mark her words, she is not going another week without sex. This is already pushing it. Suddenly, the experiment doesn't sound all that important. What a stupid excuse to get into his pants, since clearly that's all this was. What had he said? Stop trying to understand and start trying to survive? Hm. Which of those categories would outright fucking him fall under...?
Hm, nevermind, it doesn't matter one way or the other. She's too proud to admit he's right and too patient to cash in this early. After tonight, he'll owe her, and he's the type of man to care about that sort of thing.
She takes him in again, this time more slowly, one hand sliding over him as her tongue swirls. She's done with the teasing. Her head dips down in long, measured pulls, her pace gradually quickening as her fingers matching the rhythm. She wants to see him squirm, now. ]
no subject
His breath goes unsteady, that's the first sign. His fingers flexing tightly in her hair, pulling her in as his hips slowly roll forward. It's an easy gesture, one easily fought off, but he has a feeling she's not gonna mind his fucking her mouth a little.]
Shit, that's good . . .
[The sensation, sure, but the sight, the sounds, god, the fucking situation, as unreal as it is insane, and yet right now he doesn't have to think about that, he doesn't have to think about anything but what they're doing right in this moment, overwhelmingly pleasurable and perfect.]