A Quiet Night In

[Hood]

He secretly enjoyed the brief flicker of dissaproval that ghosted Spectra's features when he corrected her. She enjoyed her won little games at his own expense; he had little doubt she had shared many a steamy glance with the driver. Hood crossed into the side of the room devoted to serve as the kitchen, and produced two bottles of water from the fridge, then turned to examine her as she straddled his weight bench.

The view was, of course, stunning. Made all the more striking for how dangerous he knew her to be. She could easily ruin him, and quite possibly might some day, if it were of value to her. That made it all the more tempting though. It was not her physical form that tempted him (although her body was certainly appealing), but the mind that inhabited it. Devious, sly, cold, and calculating. Perfectly adapted to survive and thrive in her element.

He crossed the room towards her and tossed the two bottles to the floor next to the bench, where they would likely lay forgotten, lost from sight as his shirt was dropped atop them.

She held his undivided attention for the evening and well towards morning. For that time, she was the only point of interest in the world, a puzzle to be understood. He knew there had been many before him, and did not care that lesser hands had soiled her flesh. It was his intent to be the one she would remember most clearly, and he had no intentions of letting the opportunity she had provided him with go to waste.

The patience he has shown earlier in the evening returned over time, but when they first came together it was all hunger and impulse. But in time he slowed and his focus shifted to be focused solely on her desires and sensations. He would not be satisfied till the memory of 'better' men were burned from her mind. Unsatisfied till any man she deigned to allow her this opportunity, past or future would be compared and pale to this night.

When exhaustion finally took them, he slept only a few restless hours before rising quietly to leave her curled among the blankets that had been thrown on the floor in what passed as the master bedroom. The cot that was one of the only pieces of furniture in that spartan room simply would not have served their purposes.

Restless, he busied himself with tasks unfinished or imagined; when she would rise, the weight bench sported a heavily loaded bar, the fading smell of fresh paint was rivaled with a hint of gun oil, coming from a kitchen counter where three different pistols sat cleaned and readied once more. And the scent of breakfast was heaviest in the air.

He doubted she would have any interest in the bacon and eggs and beans-n-molasses, but there was fresh fruit and yogurt and granola. Coffee was fresh made, and he sipped from a small cup. He wore a simple pair of gray sweatpants and little else, and for how little sleep he had he seemed rested and alert. Always alert, in fact.

"Morning." He sounded rested too, no hint of exhaustion in his voice or his stance. He was a man ever wound tight, but it did not seem to wear him down. Not yet, at least. He turned to face her as breakfast simmered on frying pans behind him, one hand on his hip as he sipped his coffee, boldly memorizing her from head to toe and back again.

[Spectra Lin]

Spectra curled her finger that Hood come, and he approached soundless but for the dropping of his shirt on the floor. She smiled with devious victory. How many women on this planet could make him obey so effortlessly?

Such was the theme of the evening. Obedience and submission tangled themselves as viciously as arms, lips and legs. Every primal cringe that he dared to allow to show itself, she devoured with cabalistic prejudice. He was her servant in their passions, and she made the understanding clear. In the filth of Bogotá slums, she was a different, shier beast. The jaguar he had to coax from the limbs of its shadowy home, but now Spectra's claws came out, and more than once they dug into Hood's back, and swirled the salt of sweat and reddened flesh into four stinging lines. Her teeth pinched upon tender flesh, until he groaned barbarous pain. His thresholds were high, but Spectra did not pull back until she found sadistic pleasure in his moans. She made up for the brutality, however, until he was begging for release. She wanted him to crave her as an addict for their next hit. She was not unsatisfied in this goal.

The bench. The counters. The wall, the floor. There was no place beneath them, but it was upon the density of his chest she eventually fell asleep. Her hourglass figure fit into his frame like carnal lock and key. Even asleep, Spectra stirred magnificence like her finger swirled through the sands of a distant beach. The last sound she heard was that of his heart slowing its pace. Proof that he had one, she guessed, but she could forgive him for having a heart.

She woke with a blanket draped across her body as though she'd tangled herself in its arms while warmer ones were absent. She stretched in what light streamed within. Scents touched the front of her mind. The smell of food was strongest, but mixed with the lingering presence of sweat and pleasure. She ached between her legs. A reminder of those blurred hours she didn't mind bearing the rest of the day.

The things she had worn the night before were long scattered. So she stole a shirt of his and emerged as the classic, exotic beauty adorned in her lover's dress shirt. The white of his shirt barely covered the tops of her thighs, she buttoned it at the naval and rolled the too-long sleeves to her elbows. Her hair was loose and touseled, having been tangled many times in his fists.

There was a smile on her lips when she saw him. Hood set the bar high, having also beat the previous version of himself to a distant memory. They were different, better people now, and their match was quite apparent as they studied one another in this morning-after.

"Buenos días."


She ran a finger up her stomach, along the buttons of his shirt, and made to arrange the collar around her hair. It seemed she was then distracted by the presence of breakfast. More so in surprise than hunger. "You cook, too?"
She chuckled merry amusement as though poking fun at his provincial ways and joined him for water. The fruit burst cold and juicy in her mouth, and she leaned on the counter enjoying the sensation and his presence, the same counter upon which were arranged guns and cleaning gear. She gestured at them, "Are you trying to turn me on again?"
She bit into a strawberry.

If so, it was working.

Edited by Spectra Lin, Mar 29 2014, 02:05 PM.

[Hood]

The lingering trail of those fingers had a far more immediate affect at waking a man up then the coffee in his hand, but he wasn't complaining. She swayed deliciously as she drew closer and took up a haunt against the counter, and he appreciated the valiant job his shirt did to shroud her, giving devilishly teasing hints to the perfectly feminine curves beneath, and he studied her quietly as she busied herself with a piece of fruit.

He knew his way around a kitchen well; one learned such things over time when you lived alone. Self sufficiency in all things was how he stayed alive as long as he had. Of course, knowing how to work in a team had certainly helped.

"There are no beautiful surfaces without a terrible depth."
The quote was from a German philosopher of the 1800s, Friedrich Nietzsche.

Of course, it was those very depths that he enjoyed so much about her company. She was a dangerous woman, competent and a queen of her domain. Hers was a world he did not belong, and she to his, which made these painfully rare encounters they shared all the more glorious. There were few women he had met in his life that so well understood him, and those few who did could not stand what they had glimpsed.

He stepped towards her, one iron-gripped fist tangling in her hair, the other sliding down her thinly clothed side, pressing a warm hand into the small of her back. He pulled her head back enough that he could lean in and kiss her, tasting the fresh fruit on her lips and tongue, then carefully freed his hand from her raven locks, carefully smoothing a few errant strands from her eyes.

"Have I aged so poorly that I have to rely on toys to get a rise out of you?"
He smirked slightly, referring to the weapons that sat on the counter behind her. He was not the most handsome of men, but looks alone were not what he relied on to draw a woman's attention.

[Spectra Lin]

Spectra did not recognize the quote, but she adored it anyway. Did he make it up, or was there a straight-laced book worm beneath the chiseled, brutish façade? Her musings quickly disappeared when he tilted her face and dominated her every thought with the fierce kiss that followed.

She didn't fight him, he had her undivided attention, certainly, but neither did she wilt weak and swooning in his arms. She enjoyed him the way a goddess enjoyed the worship of those utterly devoted to her. His demands gave her life and flowed through her like the power of the universe she so frequently coveted. When released, she did not step away, but instead looked into his eyes and twirled a fingertip along the ridge of his collarbone, down his side and up the coursing muscles of his back. She'd never noticed the color of his eyes before. Or perhaps she had, and forgot, but for the moment she made the effort to try and remember. There was a very real possibility that after this morning, she would never see them blinking with life again. His work was dangerous, after all, and even he was mortal.

She purred a content consideration for his question, looking up and down the sinew and ridges of muscle pressed against her. She itched with the desire to tease him about the way stress and the years etched itself into his presence, but contentment made for a generous mood, and she offered a compliment instead. "There's one toy of yours that gets a rise out of me,"
she briefly pressed her hand between his legs, waited a minute to see what he would do, then smirked and stepped away.

She busied herself with the rest of the fruit afterward, pausing only for water between bites and studying the surroundings she'd largely dismissed the night before. "I assume you've already called me a car?"
She glanced at him. She'd not be offended if he had, nor take it as a sign to get rid of her, but going their separate ways was only natural.

[Hood]

He smirked slightly at her come-back, and her wandering hand would find all the evidence she needed to know she had her own desired affect on him. He held her gaze for as long as she was giving him her undivided attention, studying her eyes and pondering the wonderfully sinister intelligence that was hinted in their depths. In all likelihood, the two would not be crossing paths again, at least in this lifetime.

He had already made that call, and a Pervaya Security staff car waited not two blocks away. No unmarked secretly armoured SUV waited her this time. This was the pride of their fleet, a gleaming white Rolls Royce limousine with the company symbols, and of course hidden armour plating, bullet proof glass, sup'd up engine, reinforced bumper, and hidden panels in the driving compartment for small arms. Just in case.

She pulled away and he allowed her; she had a schedule to keep, he was sure. No doubt she was already thinking of interesting ways to spin the previous night's incidents to further increase her mystique and fame, and he would not impose further. They had both gotten what they wanted last night.

He leaned back against the counter and took a fork full of his own breakfast, downing it in quick, controlled movements. "The company limo can be here in ten minutes. My boss contacted your people, and there is a fresh change of clothes with the driver and escort. And, I am told, a basket of your preferred soaps and bath oils."


As spectacular as she looked in his shirt, it was a cold morning. Sending her out in that and her soiled fur coat probably wouldn't sit well with her. Better that she remember he was one that enjoyed covering all the bases. The better she looked getting out of that limo, the better Pervaya Security would look in comparison, and whether in the world of fashion or security, image was very important.

[Spectra Lin]

She might have been impressed with his foresight, until his naiveity showed itself. It was charming in a way, to see that everything Hood guessed about her was so wrong. "Soaps and bath oil? Dear one, you don't think I would bathe here, do you?"
She looked around her like she found the idea revolting. Interestingly, it had nothing to do with pride; she'd already demonstrated willingness to get her hands dirty, much to his pleasure. They may have done things to each other the night before that spoke of intimacy, but she was above sharing a shower, unless of course he were in there with her.

After finishing the last of her breakfast, she popped the collar and turned a coy shoulder. She did have her own agenda today, and it did include more than wearing Hood's shirt. "I'll be counting down those ten minutes and see how accurate your people are."
She turned at the edge of the room, "Unless you're interested in showering?"
Of course they both knew what she meant by that.

[Hood]

"Once you have left."
He pulled his phone and sent a quick message to the team waiting to deliver her back to the spotlight that was her life. He grinned sarcastically at her distaste to the idea of bathing in his house. She had climbed very far up the social ladder, so such a derision should have come as no surprise to him. She was used to much, much better, after all.

He watched her cross the room and pop the collar of his shirt, and shook his head with mild amusement. She was insatiable, but that was part of her appeal. Instead of falling for the pleasant trap she offered, he set what dishes that had collected with making and eating their breakfast and delivered them to the sink. He would deal with the mess once she was gone; he wasn't so dispassionate as to leave her to her own devices while he washed dishes.

Instead, he crossed over to her and rested his hands on those coy shoulders, powerful grip carefully bent to the task of massaging her shoulders and neck while his cold gaze focused on the lone window that overlooked the front approach to the collection of sea-cans that made his house. Some part of his mind was counting the time from the moment the message was sent, expecting the team to arrive exactly on time, not too soon or late.

"Pervaya liniya Security employs only the best. Quality over quantity. There is a reason I work for them."
It was less that he met their strict requirements, and more so that they met his, and his employers were fully aware of that distinction.

Nine minutes and fifty seconds later, the expensive staff car pulled into Hood's driveway, drawing more then a few confused stares from his neighbours, although few were foolish enough to actually wander outside to watch what was going on. Mr Koloman stepped out and approached the door with a piece of expensive luggage provided by Spectra's people.

He was let in and handed the case to Hood, gave Spectra a nod of his head that allowed him a pleasant eyeful, and was out again before he overstepped his bounds. Hood stared at the door coldly when it fell shut, pondering a few words for Koloman later.

[Spectra Lin]

Spectra pat him on the hand that squeezed her shoulder. The brief massage twinged all the way down her back, and she vowed to seek a professional before the day was through. "Suit yourself, mijo,"
and disappeared for the subsequent nine minutes.

Spectra waved hello to Señor Kolomon, bit behind a playful pout of the lips, but made sure to take note of Hood's reaction. His jealousy made her gleefully happy, as did, upon further inspection, the selection of clothes he delivered.

Tight black leggings paired with red spiked pumps drew Spectra all the taller while a voluminous red furred vest would keep her warm while dipping in and out of Moscow's air. She was surprisingly swift to arrange herself. Her hair was brushed out and fell with perfect balance of wild dishevelment and an exotic sheen. Her lips she painted with pale pink gloss, and designer sunglasses were perched across her eyes.

She let the boys carry the luggage back to the car, but made a show of stopping on her way out the door for one last moment alone with .. dare she call him a friend? No, it would be foolish to confuse familiarity with friendship.

She pulled the glasses from her face so to look into his eyes unfiltered by the browns of a lensed world. She stroked the back of his neck and wrapped her arms around him one last time without ruining the moment by speaking. She kissed him lightly on the cheek, as one might their priest, family or a recent acquaintance. "Mi papacito rico."
Her tone was teasing, but did not quite cover the term of endearment to follow. She quite thoroughly doubted she'd see him again, which would be a shame for both of them. "Cuidate mucho."
She shook out her hair and returned her sunglasses to her face with a perfect smile. "Chao."
And left.

[Hood]

Her things were stored neatly in the expansive trunk so as not to clutter her in the far more expansive interior of the vehicle, and Koloman waited next to the door, ready to open it for her and let her in when the time was right, all the while scanning their surroundings and boldly meeting the gaze of anyone he caught peeking at them. Curtains fell shut anywhere the large black man's gaze settled. Koloman had apparently picked up on Hood's displeasure.

Hood gave the area a brief survey of his own before allowing Koloman to be the man on watch, and turned his gaze to her, leaning in so she could better reach him and laid his hands gently on her as she kissed him farewell, flashing her an amused grin. "I would tell you to take care of yourself, but I know that's what you do best."
He meant it endearingly; it was one of the reasons he respected her so much.

He remained in the driveway as Koloman opened and shut the limo door for her, and nodded to the man and driver before they pulled away. Scant minutes later one of two Pervaya liniya Security ghost cars was shadowing the limo, an added layer of protection to see her home safely. They'd pulled out all the stops for Miss Lynn. She was a very well known figure, after all.

Once they were out of sight though, Hood moved back into his abode, shut and locked the door, and got to work on figuring out who had attacked them the previous night. Someone was playing a dangerous game, one that came uncomfortably close to involving the police. And that was a big no-no in the world his kind lived in.