graveycrd:

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graveycrd:

This is not what his night should be used for. It’s too dark outside and with the sky laying on the city like a cloak he should be taking advantage, doing his fucking job and getting out of Gotham before it devours him. Instead he’s here, feeding an addict until she’s like a lotus eater, feverish and wanting more, more, more.

Maybe he’s the addict, if this is such a god damn problem. He’s finding it hard to give a fuck about the job he was meant to finish. How can anyone taste a mouth like hers and give a fuck about anything else?

And this should be FRIGHTENING for other reasons. Mostly that any kiss that draws him in too deeply reminds him of a certain French witch that wouldn’t let him have his own body even after he burnt her until even her bones were ash. He’s wary of girls like her but something deeper than his fear says this one isn’t the same.

This one is used to men running, or she wouldn’t feed off him so desperately.

“Take off your panties,” he demands, or he’ll do it for her. His hand is already drifting from her hip down her thigh, pausing at her knee.

She hadn’t noticed , the the booze wore off and she’s left all raw ; exposed & made vulnerable by hands that touch softer than she deserved. See, she’s always been rough & tumble, gritty and tough to swallow. 

she’s liked it that way, an acquired taste meant less & less people could touch you, take you, roll your flavor between their lips — but she wanted to have him, she wanted so much of him, more than she could take, she’s almost certain he is this man filled with wile & wit.  some kind of beast molded like a man, only half-way through . 

his hands are hot irons but they spur her still, she slinks her own two, trembling , to slip the frail black fabric from between her thighs – far away, tossing them aside. she’s bare, then, before him ; more than she’d been & maybe it IS the sobriety that’s got her senses alight like a pyre, and he was happy to stoke the flames.  she’s always used something artificial to feel this way and he’s managed it with bearded lips and scars as thick as reeds on his palms, 

she links arms behind his neck, eyes shut tight, because they are dark ; deep pools, when usually they are someplace shallow and easy to swim in, she doesn’t want him to drown, she is cold water. 

“ don’t stop touching me.” a plea, maybe her lips trembles or maybe it’s another series of shivers that have locked her like ice, like stone. she cannot move, she doesn’t want to . 

graveycrd:

^{“Everything,” her, the very air she’s breathing, the sweat that’ll be dripping down her skin when he’s got her all worked up and at her edge. He’ll eat her moans and the honey between her thighs, he’ll feast on it all.}

^{His hands are large enough to comfortably sink against her sharp hip bones where curled fingers grip and knead and lift until the whole of her is rising and pushed against the edge of the bed. The mattress dips under her weight just barely, dips further when he slides a knee between her thighs and presses the rest of himself against her.}

^{“Gonna let me?” she could say no. He’d be okay with it. He’s not like the guys back at that party who have already assumed her teeth and tongue taking a taste of his mouth is an instant yes.}

       Her heart hiccups, drops, and then restarts at a dead run —- he was so hungry and she was a prime cut . Maybe her meat wasn’t going to be the sweetest , she wasn’t filled with good things, she didn’t do good things and her decisions made in recent times could only sour the taste of his tongue. She was bad, good and rotted but that doesn’t make her stop, doesn’t slow her needy fingers from puling on him, doesn’t keep her legs from hooking around his waist. 

          She’s a very bad thing, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t like her —- she knew all about drowning yourself in the worst stuff for you, but enjoying every second of gasping for air. God, she’s an enabler and he’s not even doing much , giving her an inch as she’s taking seven, it’s neighboring on narcotic, how deep & drugged her kisses are.

“ I’d hate you if I didn’t.”

graveycrd:

^{He’s not sure when he decided he’d end up kissing her. Was it back when she stole the cigarette she just gave him right from between his lips? Maybe when he spotted her in the first place, slinking through the crowd like smoke and slipping out the door like a ghost. He wanted her to haunt him, latch on to him like wandering spirits do, but she didn’t look at him because he wasn’t the escape.}

^{Is he now? When she kisses him does she taste something like her freedom on his mouth? Or is he too possessive when he kisses back? He tries not to be, even if he’s hungry and craving the taste of nicotine on her tongue. Instead, he kisses her like she’s something breakable or like she’s made of spun sugar that he can’t douse for fear of losing it.}

^{But Bod isn’t perfect. He can’t hold himself off forever. Maybe he looks like the huntsman but inside sometimes he feels like nothing but a big, bad wolf. He curls his lip back and drags a canine across her bottom lip, almost like he’s testing how breakable she is. It’s a soft enough motion to not draw blood but when he draws away he can see how pink her mouth as become and it only makes his mouth water for more.}

^{“I could eat,” he says, voice low and cutting like glass in his throat so all his words are raspy and scratched thick.} 

                    She doesn’t look for perfect , she wouldn’t have found it if she had — it’s like fine grains of sand and her hands are always open — too wide, too wanting, and while she’s got something to grab ( his face, his arms, his sides ) , they can’t hold on for too long, but she’d try like hell, while she can. 

          Her fingers dig deep, deep, kneading through the thick of his jacket and slowly prying it away — he can think she’s delicate all he’d like , and maybe its the bruises, the scrapes, the marks on her arms or the sunken bone beneath her cheeks but she Is far From Weak. She’s strong , & hungry and wanting as much as him — talk teeth from the big bad wolf ,she’s got fangs of her own , and they’re sinking in to the thick of it, until she can taste him inside and out. 

       Away, away ; she drifts , looking up now with swollen lips & a fire in her eye that’d been dormant all day —- she needed a fix , and her fingers twitching as they press against his side are a dead tell of it, but she’s trying & fighting and failing to focus on him, and him alone. He tastes so good, like warm amber spreading against the flat of her tongue , but it wasn’t enough, never enough, she wants so badly to have MORE, 

“ What to eat ?”

graveycrd:

^{These spaces between her words and his keep widening, everything solid between them crumbling from the weight of uncertainty. It sounds pretty fucking dumb when he thinks about it and he’s tempted to just stuff stories of his first job in these cracks and fissures. He’ll tell her all about how he’s put off fish and chip shops for life now thanks to that job. He’ll say, mate, you wouldn’t believe what the smell of fish fry does to me.}

^{But she’s quicker than him and races ahead of these little insecurities that come with being two beautiful strangers unaware of just how god damn good they might have it together. She takes his hand and he lets her lead, lets her take the card and slink into his nearly untouched room with the freshly made bed looking like he hasn’t even slept there yet.}

^{Her palms are sweating well so are his so who can tell which one is to blame? The second she drops his hand he slides his over his thighs and turns around to make sure the door shuts all the way behind them.}

^{“Dracula with Keanu Reeves count as really bad?” he suggests, stepping inward a little further.}

^{And then finally all that awkward quiet catches up with them and he’s maybe standing too close and when there is no wind biting at his skin, at his mouth and nose, he can catch her scent rising upward, curling around him and CLAIMING a place in his room that he’s sure no maid will be able to get rid of.}

^{Bod touches her hips. Fingertips first, then fingers fully gripping.}

             “ Keanu Reeves IS a vampire, but a film about it sounds….” She fakes a gag , “ Less than ground breaking. Lets watch it.” But she’s stopped short of turning to flop down on one of the beds, his touch sets her back straight & her skin slightly burning — but she’s use to that, to drugs being the causation and not a man she hardly knew ( and wanted desperately to know , more ). 

              She tilts slightly away , not to discourage him, but because she felt weak in the knees for whatever reason , making sure to anchor herself with her hand placed on the curve of his elbow, pulling herself closer to him while averting her gaze —- 

                “ is that a no …to pizza ?”  she stammers uncomfortably past a dialogue change, and presses her forehead against his chest, biting her lips as forcibly as is necessary to keep her damn mouth shut. Such an idiot. Her hands have both wandered up from below to hold either side of his face, thumb branching out to feel the scruff around his mouth – 

“ or uh … a yes to ….” She kisses him, because she’s making a fool of herself & porn was such a stupid, tired joke at this point that she’d much rather be touching him, then to see it played in HD on a screen. ( overpriced, anyways ). 

graveycrd:

^{“Short supply in my childhood home,” he laughs, a bark of it that catches on the metal walls of the elevator and hums it’s way back to their ears. He presses the number ten with his knuckle and drops his arm from around her shoulder.}

^{“Food should never need a solid answer. It’s always a yes. Who says no to food?”}

^{But then Bod’s not someone raised to be ungrateful about food. Granted, he’s not overly fond of bananas these days for good reason relating to his childhood, but he wouldn’t say no if it were offered. Just how he was raised.}

^{“You want lobster? Go right on ahead. You want caviar? Well I don’t recommend it but if it’s your thing, eat up.  Porn?” now he hesitates, only for a second while the elevator doors split and reveal an empty lobby that opens up to a maze like hall of rooms.}

^{Bod let’s her step off first, follows behind so she can’t see the cheek of his uncurling smile.}

^{“Sounds delightful, maybe the best date I’ve ever had. Go left, room 1026.”}

             “ I hate seafood.” Emphasis placed on the HATE , in case he couldn’t taste how repulsive she thought it to be — her tongue hangs out underneath a crinkled nose, and she waves away an imaginary plate . She’s picking and choosing the bits of his dialogue that didn’t set her hackles up , or her nerves a plucking with some song written in the bowels of her anxiety . She’s sober, and the bright lights are a staunch , unyielding reminder of that , so she’s hurrying as quickly as she can without be a Blatant Addict ( because , ya know – who wants THAT in their expensive hotel room ).

               She blazes down the hallway, her hand taking his and her feet taking flight – pitter pattering down the ornate stretch of carpet, until those four numbers pull into view. “ 1026. “  Repeated, and she holds her finger out all wiggly , in anticipation for the room key. Suddenly, though , she’s got butterflies a flappin’ and her palms are sweating an obscene amount ( gross ). 

“ We can order pizza, though. And rent a really bad monster movie ?” The pitch of her words heightens , and she looks to one side, & then the other, but actively avoids meeting his gaze once the door clicks, and opens, and she steps inside with the get-away haste, throwing her jacket on the nearest chair. 

“ sound good ?”

graveycrd:

^{You know how sometimes you could see the way mechanical things worked? Like their plastic shells didn’t hide enough of whatever made them tick? You could watch a clock’s gears spin or the way a wind-up toy’s innards twisted everything else until it did a creaky, robotic dance in place?}

^{This was how it felt looking at this girl with her jaw muscles twitching, her teeth coming together so hard that her insides practically throbbed like he could see the heartbeat just under her earlobes. Bod’s fingers twitched too, then curled gently around the ball of her covered shoulder when she leaned into him for warmth.}

^{“Christ, you’re just full of good ideas, aren’t you?” he mused out loud. None of those sounded particularly bad, though he paused at the last suggestion and tried not to look at her as if his expression would instantly give him away. He would look at her and she would just know he knew there was meant to be a joke there but it didn’t work right with someone like her.}

^{The idiot that he was, though, said something worse than looking at her like that.}

^{“Never done drugs before, actually. Well, besides a cigarette or drinkin’, I guess.”}

       She’s only half-listening ; eyes plastered to the inside of a gaudy lobby, & all the occupants within . Her stare falls to the floor, gilded marble under her muddy, ruddy boots — an appropriate metaphor for a diamond in the rough, only she’s the rough inside a diamond, and not a single person wanted her there. ( except for maybe the guy she’s now half-hiding behind , because he was tall, and pinch-face employees didn’t seem interested in him ) . 

“ Huh ? Really ?” Blinking back the surprise — maybe she’s just too desensitized, its been a normal occurrence for almost a decade , to think that anyone else had never been exposed to even pot, seemed ridiculous. But she wouldn’t berate him for it, god knows its the second worse thing to ever happen to her.  

           She taps unkempt nails on the smooth metal of the elevator panel, and looks up through wind-tussled curls ( falling in front of her face, his jacket pinning them all against the back of her neck ) , “ What floor ? ‘ Because now that she’s forced to think about it at length, she doesn’t want to talk about it any more. 

“ ——- and you never gave me a solid answer about the food.” She bites her lip, “ or the porn.” another joke, maybe — really she’s just rerouting conversation so it doesn’t trail over sore spots ( all of her was sore, aching, needing.) clenched fists have nails biting into her palms, one bleeds a little , and she wipes it away on her jeans.