drums-on-skulls: .11.23.02. - you still owe me dinner [rune]

November 23, 2002

.11.23.02. - you still owe me dinner [rune]

[north jersey, condo]

(rune)
Morning. Afternoon. Evening. Whatever. The days ooze together, without the definition of the workaday world, and half the time the only way to tell what day of the week it is is by the network schedule (or, more often, five-day forecast on the weather channel.) So: morning, or afternoon, or evening. Evening, to be sure. The windows are dark voids by the time she wakes up, stained by the white glare of the security floodlights beyond. There's still some fragment of dusk coloring the western sky as she slips from the bed and stumbles (aching) into the shower, but the long hot blast of pressurized jets goes a long way toward soothing her aching muscles, and a couple of Xanax popped into her mouth as she emerges from the steaming shower does wonders for the rest.

By the time she saunters back into the dark bedroom, the last vestiges of sunset have vanished from the sky, which nevertheless glows vague, dull orange from all the light pollution. Silk (only the best for Rune) boxers whisper a quiet song against hips and thighs, as she circles the bed (dark eyes trailing over him, strange half-grin unseen on her red mouth) and settles cross-legged on the floor at the foot of the bed.

Rune runs a pale hand through the disorder of dark, wet hair, shaking it free and away from her face, then drags the discarded laptop into her lap.

Play.

Dark brows rise in a simultaneous arch - oh my - and in the clarity of aftermath, a wry little grin crawls across her lips. When she left the house yesterday, that wasn't exactly her plan for the evening.

(james)
strangely
he's gotten used to the sound of the shower as opposed to the rising flood of morning traffic as an alarm clock
the ways in which we change
though just because he wakes
doesn't mean he moves
it takes quite some time to reconnect the absent limbs to body
and a far cry longer to make them obey conscious demand

even after the severity of many of their nights together
last night discovered new places to ache
and even though he's quick to heal
he's. still. damned. sore.

sloooooooowly drawing long limbs beneath him
if only to end up curling tighter beneath the warmth of blankets
that was supposed to be the warm-up exercise to moving
but to hell wi'that
unable to stop the silly little grin forming at the echoing sounds drifting from laptop speakers
unable to stop the silly little thought of not -quite- believing he did what he did last night
he hadn't exactly planned it either
though spontenaity isn't always a bad thing

finally gathering the troops and moving to reverse himself on the bed
arms crossing beneath his chest on the waterbed's frame
curve of cheek skimming to hollow of his eye skimming to bridge of his nose in caress against damp inky hair
peeking at the screen
oh. my.
indeed

(rune)
Beneath the slow caress, Rune twists her head to the side. By the time he's peeking out through the wet strands of hair caught across his face, her mouth has found his cheek. He can feel the gentle sliiiide of fresh lipstick across his skin, and beneath the soft pressure of her lips, parting into a wider grin, more than a whisper, not quite a kiss.

"Good morning, sunshine. Or should I call you something else, now that you're a star?" He can hear the affection thick in her voice, and the amusement dallying there too, rich and dark and tinged with a fine blade of irony. She adjusts the screen back by a small angle, allowing him a better view, then lowers the screen by thirty degrees, so that the tangle of bodies is little more than a strange amalgam of modern art. "I'm not sure whether to erase the file or preserve it for posterity."

(james)
the laughter is soft, sleepy and warm
affection just as clear in the sighing sound
though the flush rising beneath his skin isn't only from her touch
it would be associated with the bitten lower lip smile, there

one arm snaking from beneath his chest to wrap around her shoulders
some loving cuddle or another opportunity to hide his face against her skin?
perhaps a little bit of both
spontaneous or not, this is definitely a new experience
(on screen and it's not a security camera?)
sinking further against the bedframe and her as the other arm reaches out to tilt the screen back again
he can't help the slight fascination
(that's you! that's me!! on screen!!!)
he's quiet, a moment's consideration

"It could get you into a lot of trouble if you kept it...."

you, not us, not me
you
he's not concerned about himself
just about her
just about the pack

(rune)
"It could get us into a lot of trouble if I kept it," wryly, dryly, she reminds him. She puts him back in the pictures, she recreates him when he erases himself. "which I won't."

Before he hides his face against her skin, she catches that bitten lower lipped smile for a passing kiss, half-murmuring something not quite apprehended, never quite heard, against his mouth.

"...we can always make another."

He wraps an arm around her shoulders, and she settled her free hand upon his forearm, just below the elbow. Dark red nails graze the sharp line of her collarbone, palm curves over muscle wrapped in skin still deliciously sleepwarm, as she lolls back into his embrace. Her torso rolls outward, spine curving in a vertebrae-popping stretch - smooth and easy and sinuous - extending his wrapping arm outward, and then back down when she settles against the bedframe once more.

"That reminds me, though," This time, she doesn't tilt the screen down, but she does half-turn to catch a glimpse of his features, obscured by the angle of her glance. "if Decker says anything to you, let me know?"

(james)
that smile, warm and sleepy like his laughter
remains in the mumbling, obscuring kiss
knowing how the wicked wicked red red paint will grant itself on his skin
the vestige memory of delicious sin

in her stretch
he wiggles
just a little
so that when she settles back into the curve of his arm
the other can wrap around her
greedily gathered to share the sleepwarmth that still soaks from his skin
dreads spilling towards the floor
tilting as best he can to look at her within this proximity
the movement something of a nod as well
embrace loosening only enough so their eyes don't cross

"He did, right at the beginning.... the night the Fang broke all the glass..... said to keep it quiet because if Erik ever found out he'd skin us both."

(rune)
Dark eyes half-lid in lowering acknowledgment of his statement, head tilting further back making their mutual glance that much less awkward, though still obscured by their relative positions.

"If he says anything more..." she's not quite looking at him anymore. Her focus has drifted down from the curve of his cheek, the half-a-mouth, the one dark eye visible, and the other little more than a shadowed hollow, down to his muscled arms wrapped around her shoulders, down to her body upright beneath, one arm curled at the elbow to touch his flesh, the other holding the laptop stable on the knot of her crossed legs. "...let me know."

That was more quiet than she intended, the words almost whispered, and folding into a sigh drowned by the sounds spilling from the speakers. Her falling gaze glances across the screen, then abruptly up away. The wall is neutral enough.

"Okay?" her mouth has found his arm, grazing it with a lingering kiss, breathing the word across sleepwarm flesh, warmed further by the humid breath.

(james)
he watches her gaze fall away
he hears her voice drift softer
and he lets them sit/lay in silence for a few, precious moments

concentrating on the blood red touch against his arm
concentrating on the humid spill of breath across his flesh
concentrating on the showerfresh scent of her hair now beneath soft nuzzle
concentrating on the sound of her pulse as it reaches his ears
concentrating on her taste that still lingers on his lips

"What did he say to you?"

(rune)
Mmmmph. The negating sound lingers in the back of her throat, barely voiced, mostly swallowed right back down as she draws in another long, slow breath. The breath lifts her shoulders and his arms in tandem, holds them high as she holds it back before releasing it again, necessarily.

Otherwise, she doesn't move. Her hand is still settled over his arm, her hair spills over her skin, and his, her cheek grazes the smooth curve of muscle flexed beneath flesh, and her eyes remain focused on the far wall.

"It's not important - " movement, then, an eloquent shrug, half-a-glance to the side, and a wry level curve to her red mouth - "he's not pleased, that's all. If he gives you shit, I wanna know."

(james)
against the flexure of the waterbed, his chest fills to speak
the words begin forming in protest that it's not important
if it wasn't, he knows for damned sure she wouldn't act this way
whatever the Modi said bothered her
or else she would not be this contemplative

but something rationalizes silence better than pressing the issue
even if he's sure she knows he thinks otherwise
(damnable conflicting emotion)

of all things a Gnawer knows how to do
they're quite adept at accepting
and that's what he does now
whatever her reasons, he accepts he's not supposed to know
she can feel it in the sink of his chin against smooth, pale curve of her shoulder
she can hear it in the quiet, easy tone of sighing exhale

"Okay. I'll tell you if he says anything about it."

(rune)
"Thank you." Her voice warm again, and burred with - relief, or something like enough to it - a long exhale released mostly through flaring nostrils, on a trickle of breath enough for the words spoken finding its way from her mouth to his skin.

And she stays there, silent then. Silence then - the sound turned down, the bodies on the screen still moving, their bodies now moving much more slowly, only the rhythmic surety of breath stolen in slow almost-tandem from the cool air. Silence, until her chin drops lower and her mouth opens and her teeth graze lightly across his skin, palm flexing closed - pressure, warm - against his arm.

"I'm going to erase it - " shame, really, she thinks as her gaze falls from the wall to the screen and heat begins to coil in her belly, distinctly different from the body-sleep-warm-goodness he shares with her, but delicious and familiar in its own way. "unless you wanna watch. Don't get too distracted, though - " another nip, teasing now, as dark eyes shadowed by smudged lashes slide from the screen to his arms folded just beneath her gaze, folded warm around her shoulders, smeared red from the passage of her mouth. " - you still owe me dinner."

(james)
as if he would have denied her anything she asked
for reasons far more personal than that she outranks him
for reasons he will never have the chance to say
maybe only the faintest whisper of it spoken through the tighten of muscle beneath her teeth
the rise of skin from flexing bulge into the warm touch of lips
the half-hide against disarray tips of her hair dangling around her neck

"Of course I want to watch."

one arm keeping her snugly embraced, keeping him trapped in her touch
the other falling to let his hand and wander slowly down silk covered curves
shy smile waxing seditious

"What good is dinner if you've no need to refuel?"

Posted by james at November 23, 2002 12:00 AM

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