02-05-2014, 08:49 AM
Jaxen didn't overlook the fact that the woman he was fucking was insulting him, but he was in no hurry to talk about it despite the way it made him grit his teeth. His focus was too divided otherwise.
But the way she was looking at him! Like she dared him to speak the truth one way or another. Who was really fucking who, here? The epiphany magnified the severity of his grip, a magnifying glass that focused a mere ray of sunlight into a flesh-shredding laser.
Oh, Oriena was enjoying herself. She made no effort to disguise it. Perhaps she made it a little too obvious? Suspicion festered. And the two of them together were twin assassins circling one another in the dark, both waiting for the merest breech in the shield before striking a killing blow.
Her showmanship wrenched questions all the way back to Kallisti. He'd danced his heart out. He'd paraded himself for her judgement. He'd been whimsy to her games: a prancing thief pulled to her strings.
The resentment seared his bones white-hot. Of course, he finished in good-time and at his own pace. The irony of it was not lost either, but the thought that a woman would hope he'd hurry and get it over with didn't split his determination for the goal. He wanted her again. So he was going to fucking take her.
Bubbles of bitterness slid through the rapture of success like oil in water. But Oriena was quick to cut his pride short. The sole of her foot against his freshly slicked chest literally shoved him backward. Graceful steps kept his balance but he strongly considered to punish with his own, more violent, retaliation.
Instead, he grabbed a hand-towel and chucked it at her lap. The smirk that came with it was a reminder of which of them was going to ride home with a reminder of the other between their legs. Unless she showered again. Doubtful she'd be interested in sticking around that long. "Wipe yourself off, sweetheart,"
he gloated, dark eyes gleaming victory.
Jaxen was not above abasing himself for a long-term goal when the need suited him. Despite the flesh-wounds Oriena's barbs inflicted, like nails biting into his back, the suspect of potential ignorance was too much for him to overcome. As he watched her slither from the counter, he took up sentry near the door, arms folded across his chest. "You ever going to tell me what you mean? Or keep up with the cute little euphemisms?"
Either way, he wouldn't give her the satisfaction of pleading for help.
Edited by Jaxen Marveet, Feb 5 2014, 08:53 AM.
But the way she was looking at him! Like she dared him to speak the truth one way or another. Who was really fucking who, here? The epiphany magnified the severity of his grip, a magnifying glass that focused a mere ray of sunlight into a flesh-shredding laser.
Oh, Oriena was enjoying herself. She made no effort to disguise it. Perhaps she made it a little too obvious? Suspicion festered. And the two of them together were twin assassins circling one another in the dark, both waiting for the merest breech in the shield before striking a killing blow.
Her showmanship wrenched questions all the way back to Kallisti. He'd danced his heart out. He'd paraded himself for her judgement. He'd been whimsy to her games: a prancing thief pulled to her strings.
The resentment seared his bones white-hot. Of course, he finished in good-time and at his own pace. The irony of it was not lost either, but the thought that a woman would hope he'd hurry and get it over with didn't split his determination for the goal. He wanted her again. So he was going to fucking take her.
Bubbles of bitterness slid through the rapture of success like oil in water. But Oriena was quick to cut his pride short. The sole of her foot against his freshly slicked chest literally shoved him backward. Graceful steps kept his balance but he strongly considered to punish with his own, more violent, retaliation.
Instead, he grabbed a hand-towel and chucked it at her lap. The smirk that came with it was a reminder of which of them was going to ride home with a reminder of the other between their legs. Unless she showered again. Doubtful she'd be interested in sticking around that long. "Wipe yourself off, sweetheart,"
he gloated, dark eyes gleaming victory.
Jaxen was not above abasing himself for a long-term goal when the need suited him. Despite the flesh-wounds Oriena's barbs inflicted, like nails biting into his back, the suspect of potential ignorance was too much for him to overcome. As he watched her slither from the counter, he took up sentry near the door, arms folded across his chest. "You ever going to tell me what you mean? Or keep up with the cute little euphemisms?"
Either way, he wouldn't give her the satisfaction of pleading for help.
Edited by Jaxen Marveet, Feb 5 2014, 08:53 AM.