Kings of the castle

[Oriena]

Amusement laced the brush of breath against her ear, tightening ripples of pleasure in her stomach, but she only answered with a wicked smile. Upon finding a worthy adversary Ori was a lascivious tease, although whether the whisper of her promises were built of steel or sand depended entirely on what she intended to get out of it. The burn of her gaze beneath the curve of dark lashes made no mistake of that; she offered him shameless fantasy tied with a bow, if he could navigate the barbed wire nestled sedately amongst the ribbon. Irrespective of her own whim, irrespective of her own intention, she’d brand him with reflection of his desire until his blood pounded like fire. And he wasn’t so complicated to read. Please tipped her tongue, shivering in the breath she pressed close to his ear, but it was a taunt of low, provocative laughter that left her lips. Such an easy weakness to exploit, such a fun weakness to exploit.

As Jaxen retreated she pushed herself up languidly on her palms, unhurried, and finally stood. She didn’t follow him from the stage though; instead she sank into the shadows of backstage. Karmen was already there, smoothing over the disruption to the schedule with the efficiency Ori had hired her for. The decadent interior continued beyond the stage door; brocade and velvet and heavy dark wood shamed only by the exquisiteness of the men and women who earned Kallisti’s golden reputation. Her gaze swept over them, inured to the beauty, until discovering what she sought; the ornate metal frame of a mirror.

“Playing nicely?”

She caught Karmen’s gaze beyond her reflection, and smirked. “Maybe just playing,”
she said, sweeping a waterfall of dark hair over one shoulder and checking the lines of her dress with minimal fuss before turning. By the look on her face, Karmen had more she could have said – if she’d thought doing so would have any impact on Ori’s unflustered exterior. She clearly knew better than that, though, and instead held out a Wallet. Ori’s. Which she’d left in Karmen’s office, with the rest of her stuff. And Ori didn’t need to swipe open the screen to guess why. Irritation bled treacherously into coiling wreaths of power, fighting retaliation against the frustration, until pain burned brighter than pleasure and she dropped her grip on it entirely.

“It keeps ringing.”

A short sigh, not aimed at Karmen, was the only indication of the stirring danger and its subsequent loss. She took the Wallet, powered it down, handed it back – all in one smooth motion. Then began to thread her way back to the others. Jaxen had already made himself comfortable – feet on the floor, fortunately for him – and the cut of his smile basked in self-satisfaction, though her gaze naturally sunk lower, to the distracting tease of flesh he had neglected to cover. Jon looked slightly bewildered, like the vodka was finally seeping sluggishness into his veins, though he roused himself quickly enough. “Satisfactory,”
she offered in answer as she slid back into her seat, the mechanical gears of her mind already pressing forward to the implications of another round. A final round, probably, given Jon's pass on another drink. These things were no fun without a lot of alcohol.

A devilish spark accented her retrieval of a card. No hesitation marred the scribble of her number, though she hoped to fuck she remembered the previous rolls correctly. Five to keep, one to go left. Should have listened more carefully in the beginning.

Ori's Number
Twenty