A Blind Eye

[Oriena]

The world hazed at its edges, but she was lit from within by anticipation of a feeling more intoxicating than any drug she could think to stream through her veins. The room received even less of a scan than it had the first time, its detail all soft blur and light. The pretentious ornamentation of her surroundings was inconsequential at the best of times, but mattered even less now. Even Jaxen’s red suit was less offensive when it slid off his skin and crumpled forgotten on the floor. Granted a captive audience Ori was an intent performer, and unabashed at taking exactly what she wanted, how she wanted it. A devilish gleam accented the sharp, ungentle tugs that removed that expensive suit. And the slower way she stepped back to undress herself.

She held back from touching the power, teased herself through the build-up; lost herself in the heat of desire and lust until it raced like sunrise through her body.

Jaxen’s recoil was abrupt. She might have found it offensive, but given the unusual circumstances it only piqued a predatory curiosity. Her heart hammered hard in her chest, the ache of absence magnified more than she was willing to betray. Playful as a kitten, she waited for him to piece it together - wondered if he could, and if so how. She felt nothing, but he made obvious the moment a reciprocal connection hit a deluge to his senses. Throaty, delighted laughter rolled from her throat, cut short by the reigniting of his hunger to more of a sly smile; she bit her lip, felt like losing herself again, but after a moment spoke.

“Did you think it was your charm?”
Her voice was a husky murmur, but it was sharp, burying little splinters of discord amidst the passion. “Or your pretty face? The reason I stuck around?”
Scorn barbed her cruel whispers; she took malicious glee in dismantling him at such an intimate moment. Jaxen was spoiled and arrogant, childish and disloyal. The sort of man Oriena usually took wayward pleasure in frustrating, in humiliating. Only one thing marked him out from the rest: the power that enhanced every sense, made gods from mortals, and added a new dimension to an old world. That was what made him different. That was what made him worth it.

*

Habit woke her early. Brief disorientation greeted a blink at unfamiliar surroundings, but she was more perturbed by the faint gnaw of a headache behind her eyes than for a moment not being completely sure where she was. A languid stretch eased the dullness of a hangover, and she got up without pausing to check on Jaxen. Her mouth was dry, her head hollow, but a self-satisfied smile softened her lips as she sought out the bathroom, running fingers through the tousled mess of her hair. The air was regulated warm, quick to cater to the whims of comfort, but the apartment barely looked lived in - aside from the odd out-of-place embellishments amongst the modernity. Ori glanced at them as she passed, more languorous than interested. She was in no rush to sneak out, but neither particularly sentimental about the morning after. A hot shower. A hot coffee. Beyond that there was little to keep her. Whether Jaxen woke, slept or pretended to sleep until she’d gone mattered little, though he’d probably be gratified to witness she’d woken smiling.