08-27-2023, 02:01 AM
(This post was last modified: 08-27-2023, 02:02 AM by Jaxen Marveet.)
When Jaxen took a drag, he orchestrated a deliberate recline, immersing himself in the present moment and enjoying the view. A sinuous slice of shadow had laid herself against Mikhail’s broad shoulders, reminiscent of a feline finding a perfect perch on a swaying branch. An unexpected twinge of tension coiled within him when he realized who she was, uncomfortable but fleeting for its disturbance. Oriena couldn’t breathe without putting on a show; but nobody was better at performances than Jaxen.
Which was why when Mik winked following an astute observation of Jaxen’s fine ass, he leaned over, balanced a hand on the man’s knee, and placed the roll back on Mik's lips himself. Oh so intimate; so seductive. With a flickering glance at Oriena’s hovering face, of course. Jax said nothing in the moment. Just made a nice little hum and leaned away. He had some interest in making Oriena jealous, because that’s always a fun thread to pull, but really he was curious to see her in her own kingdom. The night they met at Kallisti felt absurdly fake. Oriena didn’t belong in burlesque no more than she belonged in the ballroom at the Kremlin. Somehow, oozing out of wood paneling seemed more her. Or perhaps it was the smell of blood on the air that she wore like perfume that placed her at home. The woman was a predator, and Jaxen loved to see what made her twitch her tail. And maybe share some of her claws back with her. She did like to scratch.
Yet it seemed Mik and her already had a history. So how to play it? He glanced between each of their faces, studying the expressions, their pupils, the sheen of their skin.
“Hey Oriena. Good to see you. What’s he talking about? Did you fall and bump your knee?” He leaned far to the side to look for himself, but all he did was shrug afterward and offer an explanation to Mik.
It was a mockery of being subtle since he didn’t lower his voice, and he was staring at the woman in question as he spoke. “She’s all yours, Mik. We’ve already fucked like three times. Or was it twice? I can’t remember.” His air was smug with the sort of dare that promised she’d lose in any contest between them. At a game only Jaxen and Oriena could possibly understand.
Which was why he slipped from the stool on the motion of wetting the vodka to his glistening lips and attempted to get Mikhail to follow him away. “The real action is always down below.” He said as he flashed a dismissive smirk for the company.
Which was why when Mik winked following an astute observation of Jaxen’s fine ass, he leaned over, balanced a hand on the man’s knee, and placed the roll back on Mik's lips himself. Oh so intimate; so seductive. With a flickering glance at Oriena’s hovering face, of course. Jax said nothing in the moment. Just made a nice little hum and leaned away. He had some interest in making Oriena jealous, because that’s always a fun thread to pull, but really he was curious to see her in her own kingdom. The night they met at Kallisti felt absurdly fake. Oriena didn’t belong in burlesque no more than she belonged in the ballroom at the Kremlin. Somehow, oozing out of wood paneling seemed more her. Or perhaps it was the smell of blood on the air that she wore like perfume that placed her at home. The woman was a predator, and Jaxen loved to see what made her twitch her tail. And maybe share some of her claws back with her. She did like to scratch.
Yet it seemed Mik and her already had a history. So how to play it? He glanced between each of their faces, studying the expressions, their pupils, the sheen of their skin.
“Hey Oriena. Good to see you. What’s he talking about? Did you fall and bump your knee?” He leaned far to the side to look for himself, but all he did was shrug afterward and offer an explanation to Mik.
It was a mockery of being subtle since he didn’t lower his voice, and he was staring at the woman in question as he spoke. “She’s all yours, Mik. We’ve already fucked like three times. Or was it twice? I can’t remember.” His air was smug with the sort of dare that promised she’d lose in any contest between them. At a game only Jaxen and Oriena could possibly understand.
Which was why he slipped from the stool on the motion of wetting the vodka to his glistening lips and attempted to get Mikhail to follow him away. “The real action is always down below.” He said as he flashed a dismissive smirk for the company.