[John Thornton] ((You can start. :) ))
[Izzy Montoya] (*Mutters* that’ll learn ME to talk to mei before logging in…)
[Izzy Montoya] All around the park there are little coffee shops, and at some point or another, Izzy’s sampled each of them. She’s chosen her “favorite” by virtue of the folks that DON’T look at her insanely when she asks for coffee, cream and sugar, no not a fru fru frappalatte or anything – just coffee. In a cup. Simple.
Which is why she’s in said shop now, at the counter, emptying 3 sugars and 2 creamers into the cup, and stirring with little stir stick before she lifts it to her lips, and tkes a swig – and promptly burns her tongue.
“JesusMaryMotherofFUCK – hot!” Duh, Izzy. Duh.
[John Thornton] A hazel eyed gaze rises from a quiet distance, as it tried to read the future not in tea leaves, but in the swirls of color as black coffee met the white wax paper of the cup steaming before him. A curious brow had risen upon his forehead, as the wan not-a-grin that spreads across the untelling facade seems just near enough to be almost real.
After a moment watching Izzy flail in pain, John raises a hand and speaks just loud enough for her to hear from his seat.
“Over here, Iz.”
[Izzy Montoya] She looks up, the back of her hand pressed against her lower lip, as she hears someone call her name. Oddly, he’s the only one that shortens it even farther – though, on the other hand, she’s not sure he’s ever known her full name. He knows practically everything else about her, though – so likely the name is just icing on the cake for another time.
Her lips fall into their normal smirk, as she nods, and grabs a napkin before turning to head toward his table. She sets her cup on the table first, before bending to brush her lips lightly across his cheek, her fingertips warm along his jaw, before she settles into the seat opposite him. “Hey.”
[John Thornton] John’s jaw is smooth, freshly shaven that morning, but without the gristle or five o’clock shadow that tended to follow most guys around. He had the [mis]fortune of a baby face… In spite of the way that events had aged him lately.
“Hey…”
He takes a swig of too hot coffee, still steaming, a serpentine trail of water vapor cutting a sinuous curve across his features as he does so.
“You look nice.”
[Izzy Montoya] “What, this old thing?” It’s said with a chuckle, though she’s wearing what she does every day on the job – dark slacks, a lighter blouse that is tailored to fit her slim form well, and that long coat – which she sheds now. At the small of her back the handle of her weapon gleams in the light from where it is holstered, and she runs her hand briefly through her hair to smooth it briefly.
She studies him a long moment, and the smirk – well, it warms, the way it only does with him. “You do to. Though you could use some more sleep…” As always.
She reaches inside her coat, and finds her notebook, and sets it on the table next to her with a sly little smirk. “So we can pretend its official business, if needed.”
One more day, Izzy. One more day.
[John Thornton] John nods, taking another swig of too hot coffee.
“The 311 boys are still trying to prove they’re not just some cut-rate gang and becoming more aggressive. I know they’re technically a gangs problem… I’ve told Gordon about them, but if somebody doesn’t slow them down soon they might go into full fledged homicide.”
Gordon, as Izzy would know, is the dark haired detective in Gangs who had come over shortly after John from Pittsburgh. Once upon a time, he and John had been close, like brothers or nearly so…
Now… The job got in the way. It did that with so many things. The thawing of his once close friendship with Gordon had been one of them. True, they were still friendly enough, but… Now it was more a question of acquaintances than friends. The infrequent run-ins between departments hadn’t helped that situation at all.
“And you are a fine one to tell me about sleep, Izzy Montoya.”
[Izzy Montoya] She nods, slightly, listening. “Might want to let Vaako know too, at some point. He’s put a couple other major gangs in the area on lockdown through sheer tenacity I think. He might could help before they start hitting my desk.”
Things always get in the way when you work for the Department – no matter which department you work for. It’s one of the hazards of the job – and who knows how they would have ended up had she not been shuttled off to Miami. Sometimes, she mourns the lost years. Others, she’s pretty sure that its only made them closer now – for all they’ve had a single [amazing] night together.
She chuckles softly at his tease – knowing he’s right. At least the circles under her eyes are no longer due to bruising, and simply due to lack of sleep. “Hard to sleep in an empty bed.” A pause, and then a grin. “Daniel said the next phase of my release will begin tomorrow. No more nights at the Broho, so that might help.”
[John Thornton] John nods…
“That’s good, Iz. You’ll certainly be more comfortable. I know it can’t have been easy on you staying there.”
He’d seen her worry about tightened spaces, had seen her cringe at the idea of an alleyway that was way too narrow, at flying in an enclosed metal plane with few windows. In a place like the Brotherhood, where Rage beset you at every turn, boxing you in… certainly few places could seem so chokingly enclosed.
He takes another swig of coffee, and after a long sigh, decides to speak to the elephant in the room.
“I got your phone messages.”
[Izzy Montoya] Her expression is wry, bemused perhaps as he mentions it couldn’t have been easy. Se takes a breath, and then simply nods. “It was hell. Not so bad once he let me have my days to myself – then I just slept after my shift at home. My sleeping schedule is so fucked up…”
She doesn’t mention the meltdown the first night, how she couldn’t force herself into te room, how he wanted her to sleep [aspotonthefloor] in a small space surrounded by rage and that his only concession was to move the bunk he’d made close to the window. She doesn’t mention how he’d called her weak, how he’d said she would simply get over it, how he looked at her like she was throwing a tantrum worthy of a two year old. She doesn’t say any of it – though it crosses through her gaze, and shows in the tightening of her lips briefly…
But then he addresses the elephant in the room, and she chuckles softly. “So I gathered. You mentioned questions…” a beat, and then, softly. “I’d never trap you into anything, even if it meant my own freedom. You know that, right?”
[John Thornton] “Of course I do, Iz. Of all the people I have left in this world, you’re one of the few I’d tell anything.
One of the few I truly trust.”
John sighs deeply, and takes another swig of coffee.
“I’m just cautious. Nothing I’ve ever seen with regards to what I’ve learned where our distant relatives are involved is exactly as simple as they make it seem. There’s always something they forget to mention, something that makes all the difference in the world.”
John takes another swig, his expression contemplative, before he continues.
“I guess I just want to make sure I understand what it means to mate… Specifically. Does it imply exclusivity? What exactly are the terms? What’s the part they won’t tell me about?”
[Izzy Montoya] That smirk of hers.. well, it softens again, as she reaches across the table to slide her fingertips across his knuckles where they hold his cup. Just a touch, just a moment of connection that expresses her appreciation, and the knowledge that he does, indeed, know that.
She takes a drink of her coffee as he expresses caution, and chuckles wryly. “There’s always something hidden.” She tucks her hair behind her ear, and then… “I can only tell you what I know of the mated couples that I’ve seen before – usually, though, it’s between one of them, and one of us. Us mere mortals simply call it marriage.”
She studies him for a long moment, though it seems she’s seeing something else, something in her memory instead – just for a moment. Then shes back from the distant thought and nods. “My mother was mated to my father. They were both kin, and they simply did things the human way, with a justice of the peace and witnesses and the like. Before that though, my grandfather was a Philodox – a keeper of the law. He was an exasperating man, and how my grandmother put up with him, I never understood. He was – oddly – a lot like Daniel. Set in his ways, determined, and all duty with very little else that ever got through to him – including, sometimes, my grandmother. In short though…” she shrugs, and studies her cup. “It’s supposed to be for life, supposed to be exclusive, supposed to be everything and more than a human marriage, because the very basic instincts are to mate, and breed more warriors for the cause. Its why someone with my breeding is shamed because I’ve not mated, or at least popped out a kid a year since my first cycle. They feel I’m a waste – despite the measures I’ve taken to ensure my line can continue.”
A pause, and another long drink of her coffee. “That’s what it’s supposed to be. I think that a great many of us – born true or not – make our own definitions, between the two involved.”
[John Thornton] John finishes his coffee, nodding… Hazel eyes intent on Izzy. And as she studies him, looks at him…
There’s something gnawing at him, deep on the inside. Something that made a difference. Something that mattered to him.
“Izzy… I don’t know that I can be what you need me to be. I’ve lost so much… I sometimes wonder how I haven’t been killed yet.”
He begins digging for a cigarette, and after withdrawing one, lights it up there in the restaurant. He knew it was against the law… he knew he shouldn’t. He didn’t care.
So, in spite of the dirty looks they shot the pair of cops from behind the counter, John began to smoke, and scrubbed weary fingers through his mop of brown hair.
“What… what would it be, between us?”
[Izzy Montoya] Something is gnawing at him, and she can see it, as if it’s written across his face in large letters. He lights up, and she pulls a battered pack from the pocket of her coat, steals his lighter and lights up herself. If they don’t like it, they can call the cops.
The lighter clatters on the table between them, and she doesn’t answer right away. Then, softly… “I know.” She knows what he’s lost, but more importantly, she understands it on a far deeper level than he knows. “I’ve loved them, and lost them too. Granted, not recently, because I’ve always kept them in my bed, but at a distance, since…” Them, not him. He knows what he saw that night, the parts of her that only he has access too.
She takes a long drag, and when his fingers fall from scrubbing through his hair, her hand is there to catch it, to hold on tight, to rest against the table as if they’re any other couple – though they’re far from it…
“I could tell you what Daniel said he saw, what he would hope it would be – but to be honest, I couldn’t give too shits what Daniel thinks of anything. I toe the line so that I can get out of there. I toe the line for you. John, I..” She stops, and she chuckles softly. “Of all the men I’ve ever known, there’s only one that I trust at my back, only one I’ve ever let see… well, me. All of me – good and bad. Why you keep hanging around after seeing that is a mystery..” There, her trademark smirk returns, though it’s still warmer than it would be for anyone else.
And finally, softly… “What it would be between us is… well, up to us. Up to you.”
[John Thornton] ((paused here for now.))
[John Thornton] “Up to me…”
John smokes, taking a deep drag from his cigarette… A beat passes, and then another deep drag…
Then, the hazel eyed gaze moves away from her, off to the side, as he speaks.
“Iz, you know me as well as anyone… Better even than Gordon these days. You know, for all that the job makes me judge people, it’s not my place to tell you your business whatever I think of it. And whatever bad is part of you is nothing beside the good parts. You are more than the sum of your faults… Whatever Daniel has to say on the matter.”
Another moment passes, as hazel eyes remain elsewhere… As if he couldn’t bring himself to look at her, to be so vulnerable… Though whether it was for her sake or his was a question even unto him.
“If we do… mate. Does it mean he’s not free to beat you anymore? Does it give me any say in what happens, in their eyes?”
[Izzy Montoya] He doesn’t quite look at her. It’s not her to be so open, so vulnerable, and he knows it. If he looks away for his sake – to not face that – or her own, it’s not clear. Either way, it’s noted, and her hand doesn’t pull from his. In stead, her thumb slides over his absently, as she concentrates on her cigarette instead, on the illegal activity they both enjoy in the restaurant.
He tells her she is more than the sum of her faults. She knows that there is so much more than he knows, than he could ever expect. He doesn’t know that Daniel’s beating is not the worst she’s endured. He doesn’t know what happened in Miami, what happened in Chicago before he knew he was kin. There is so much more that she’s had to endure… but he believes her better anyway. He believes there is nothing that could sway his belief that the good parts are more.
It’s moments like this that brings her feelings for him so much closer to the surface, despite how long they’ve been hidden away.
Unfortunate, that she has to answer the next question, this way… “The only thing that could curb his right to beat me when he feels it is needed is the word of the Jarl, someone trueborn, his superior.” She sighs softly. “I don’t know if it would give you more rights, to be honest. But I do know that my choosing you would stop them from forcing me to mate another.”
She lifts the cigarette to her lips, and takes a long drag, and then.. gives him a way out. “It doesn’t have to be decided now. As of tonight I’ll be out of the brotherhood – with most of my freedom back.” A slight wry smirk. “Bet you can guess what he’s still holding tight to…”
[John Thornton] John exhales, and shakes his head slightly… And now his eyes do go back to her. The look is haunted, the look is hurt… The look is for once the sum total of the turmoil he’s felt in recent weeks and months. She could read his discomfort that they would force that issue on her by the slight narrowing of his eyes, his trepidation at feeling so powerless by the lines in his forehead. His faith in who she is, in her motives, in the way that his look seems so unguarded. The haunted cast and darkened sockets the result of pain and sorrow, and a long time spent covering them up with alcohol, cigarettes, and whatever other manner of distraction he might have at hand. In short… He looked like Hell, and not even the wan smile, the ironic humor in Izzie’s statement, can completely erase the all-encompassing nature of that look.
“I imagine I can. I suspect it’s something to do with how you spend your nights…”
John takes a deep drag on the cigarette, as the hazel gaze watches her.
“Iz… I’m… not a good man. Not good enough… And somehow, I have this sense that if things go as others would have them, I may end up dead sooner than later. Given that… My recent track record with women…
I… just don’t see how you aren’t scared away. I don’t understand why you’d want anything to do with me, knowing all of that.”
[Izzy Montoya] “That’s not fair.” She says, though the smirk is still here, and shows she is a little amused. “I already said the ‘you should run from me’ line. Pick another.” The tease is brief, though, as she looks up to meet his gaze, to see the openness of his look, of his fears, of love and loss and so much pain. Hers remains just as open, even as she nods to the fact it has something to do with how she spends her nights. She doesn’t clarify the rules though. Not just yet.
And with Izzy, there are always rules it seems, though these are not ones she imposed. Instead, she squeezes his hand, and meets his gaze, her voice soft, and filled with the honest she never would show anyone else. Just him. Only, always, him.
“I can’t believe you don’t know, somehow, somewhere the answer to that. It’s always been you, John. It’s always been you.” She stops, and part of her wants to pull away then, let the shutters fall, hide behind her mask once again. It’s easier that way. It’s simpler. It’s what they’ve always done. “When we partnered, back in the day… it was duty that kept us from crossing that line – but I always knew that if you pushed it even a little, I’d give in and be happier for it. When I got caught covering that… when I was given the choice, it wasn’t my career I saved – it was yours. I left for Miami so that they couldn’t pin anything on you. And when I came back… it was for you.”
She shakes her head, slightly, with a brief amused chuckle. “Even if all I ever have is your friendship, and occasional romp in the hay, for now until one of us is gone – it’s worth it. Because for me – Chicago is home because you are here.”
And then, she meets his gaze again, briefly, before turning to look out the window, instead – as if she can’t quite face whatever reaction he has to that… “And knowing all that, I won’t be shocked if you run out of here screaming now.”
[John Thornton] Running, screaming, whatever reaction Izzy expected from him, she likely found herself surprised at what he does. A brow rises, then the other joins it, as he realizes what she says… Not about the time when they were partners.
About the time she left for Miami.
So, maybe in spite of the things that have come before, John finds himself just a little bit touched. And even though a glint of hope, the merest hint of a ray of it, grows within him…
That brings with it a sense of shock and to some degree, fear, such as he has seldom known. It was happening again. All over again. And there was nothing he can do about it.
John looks at Izzy for a long time before speaking.
“Iz… You mean more to me than you’ll ever know… More than you’ll ever imagine.”
He scrubs a hand through his hair, sighing deeply…
“If… if this is something you want, I will. But only on one condition.”
[Izzy Montoya] He doesn’t run. Not yet. He pulls his hand back to scrub through his hair, and she takes the time to put out the cigarette in her hand, using the last bit of her coffee in the paper cup to do so. It was once too hot, and now it’s too cold to enjoy, so she drops the butt into it and slides it to the side of the table out of the way.
She leans forward then, her elbows on the table, a table that she seems to watch more than she meets his gaze – not because she’s afraid of what she’d see in his eyes, but more so what he might see in hers, even as she lays it all on the table… so to speak.
She starts to answer… and then, needing to hear it all first, she pauses with “And what’s that?” the condition, she means…
[John Thornton] John squeezes her hand gently, and his expression becomes the untelling deadpan anew, save perhaps that his smile is only slightly more genuine. Still, for all his attempts to hide what he’s feeling, sorrow and fear are near to the surface…
His gaze is level, unflinching, not unkind in any way… But his tone belies nothing.
“You can’t ask me why. Anything else… is yours. Why I keep for myself.”
[Izzy Montoya] She’s not sure what she expected, or if this was close or if it came from left field. Her hand is still in his, and she feels the light squeeze, even as he closes himself off from her again, trying to hide what he’s feeling – the sorry and fer so close to the surface.
There are things she could ask, things she would want clarified, and in typical Izzy fashion, she takes an amused way about it instead. “I can’t ask you why about anything? Or just this…” The corner of her lips hook upwards in a brief little grin, but then it falls into the more comfortable smirk.
She takes a breath, and then, softly. “I would hope, that if we decided to take that step, it would be for one reason only – and not because it saves me from anything, or even protects you. If that’s not the reason…” She shakes her head, slightly, and drags her hand through her hair before letting it fall to curtain her face, knowing full well that she’s using it to hide, but unable to look up anyway. But she leaves her hand in his. She doesn’t pull away.
She takes a breath, and then softly. “The new rules state that I can live at home, and my time is largely my own, aside from my mandatory weekly interrogation. Part of that, is that I still only see you for work related things – which we already get around, clearly. And if I” and here, she mimics Daniel’s tone, with a smirk. “…must know the touch of a man, it’s to be only one. And if it’s you, he’s sure that I’ll find a way, and did not forbid me from it. Just told me that I can’t make him regret that freedom or I lose it again.”
She finally looks up again – her expression still open, naked in a way he’d seen first that night he took her to bed at last, vulnerable in a way that no one ever sees. “Even if you don’t want me for more – if that’s the why you’re keeping hidden, and you’re doing it just to try to save me… even if we don’t do that and it never happens, and we pretend this talk of mating didn’t happen, and nothing ever happens between us…” a pause. “Even if all that… I chose you.”
[John Thornton] ((Paused here for now. Thanks for the rp))
[Izzy Montoya] (NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!)
[Izzy Montoya] (mutters, kicks rocks.)
(oh and thanks for playing too. Even if you’re an EVIL EVIL MAN. *L*)
[John Thornton] ((Why do you think Edwin makes so much sense to me? *chuckles*))
[John Thornton] John shakes his head… and after a deep sigh, he stares at Izzy with those hazel eyes. He seems on the verge of saying one thing… Then perhaps another… Before what he finally does say is heard.
“Iz… I… I just don’t understand. I’ve taken to heavy drinking, smoking… I never really sleep, and when I wake…
All that baggage.
You still want me? Any other woman would run and not look the other way, and I can’t say I would blame you for doing likewise. I’m damaged goods…”
He squeezes her hand, looks away… before looking back.
“How can any of that appeal to you?”
[Izzy Montoya] When he finally says something, it’s almost.. well, it’s almost amusing, and would be at any other time. It bring a soft chuckle though as she looks up at meets his gaze. “I’m not any other woman, John. I never have been. And I’m not without baggage of my own – AND I can drink you under the table any day of the week, and I stole your lighter.”
She squeezes his hand, her fingers sliding over his, smoothing across his hand in absent caress. Then, softly.
“You’re the only one that I can let see me… all of me and know you won’t… you won’t hate me for the shit I’ve done, or what’s been done to me…”
She looks at their hands, then.. “It’s always been you – and I’ll take whatever part of you I can have.”
[John Thornton] John squeezes her hand, and when he looks at her, it isn’t with the simple affection of a former partner. Or rather, not only that. It held a note of that moment they’d shared, not so long ago… The moment where they consummated what they perhaps should have done ten years hence.
“I could never hate you, Iz. No matter how messed up I become, you…” He stops, scrubs that hand through his scalp again, his other remaining upon hers without pulling away even a little. “I will never hate you. Not even if you come to hate me, someday…”
He speaks in a way that almost leaves her the impression he thinks that a very real possibility.
[Izzy Montoya] “Why can’t you see that it’s the same for me? I’ll never hate you. You could put a bullet in my head and I’d probably STILL hang around and haunt you, and I’d certainly forgive you for it. Hell, with my mouth it’d be more likely that I deserved it anyway.”
She looks up, and sees the note of the moment they shared, and the smirk that she so often wears softens into something few ever have seen; a smile. “I won’t hate you. I’m far more stubborn than you, John Thornton, and you know it.”
She won’t say it – the depths of what she feel, she won’t say it just yet, but it’s there in her gaze when she looks at him, and maybe he on some level, realizes that it always has been. He’s just never seen it. She’s never let him, not completely.
[John Thornton] It was strange, these detectives… So good at discerning the nature of others. So bad at discerning between themselves. Maybe John hadn’t noticed it before, maybe he had and hadn’t said anything. Whatever the case may be… Izzy finds that look reflected in the dark socketted hazel eyes that stare back at her.
Even as he smiles that wan not-a-smile… A smile that’s perhaps a tad less wan tonight, as he answers her.
“Keep telling yourself that. It might come true, someday…”
He sighs deeply, and a curious brow rises upon his forehead.
“So, we aren’t to see each other outside of work, but… We’re cleared to have relations of the closed door variety… Those seem somewhat at odds with logic, but I won’t complain.
Did… he… say how it would work? How he wanted things handled?”
Inwardly, some part of him was screaming and raving. Fool his mind said. Haven’t you learned by now? Yet… Whether he chose not to listen or were simply incapable of doing so, John found himself asking how they could be together again.
[Izzy Montoya] She studies his gaze, those hazel eyes, and then – then he smiles, or at least more of a smile than usual, and she finds she can breathe again. If there were any doubt that she feared telling him any of this, it’s clear in the relaxation of her shoulders, the way the tension leaves her spine, now. He hasn’t run, he hasn’t turned her away, he hasn’t told her t fuck off.
A good night all the way around.
“Daniel isn’t the most logical of creatures.” It’s said with a snort of amusement as she leans forward to rest her other elbow on the table, her chin in her hand, as she watches her thumb slide over his. “He simply said that he was sure I’d find a way. I’m pretty sure that the key to my place is going to find a way to your pocket, for one.”
A beat, and she looks up at him again, and arches a brow, slightly. “I’m equally sure that the hotel on the corner is closer…”
[John Thornton] John feigns a moment’s consideration, before a curious brow again rises.
“A betting man might suggest they have vacancies… And a prudent man might have a car parked nearby.”
He squeezes her hand and holds it tight for just a moment…
“Just promise me, Iz… Promise me, whatever happens… You’ll remember that my actions, even those you might not agree with, have no other goal than making things better for everyone.”
With that, John stands, and winks…
“Perhaps I’ll see if I’ve been prudent tonight. Wait here, and I’ll bring the car around…
And don’t forget about the tape either.”
Strangely, as John mentions tape, it’s not a sex tape as some people might think a guy heading to a hotel with a beautiful woman and mentioning tape would mean, it’s a certain microcassette… Stored safely in a safe deposit box at a bank. Inside an envelope to be opened upon his death.
With that, John leaves to go warm up the car and bring it to the door.
[Izzy Montoya] She chuckles, and then when he holds her hand tightly, she looks up to meet his gaze again, and her fingers tighten around his, equally tight. “That’s a promise we’ll have to make to each other, John. I trust you. You’ll have to trust me too.”
He stands, and winks, and she pulls his hand to brush her lips across his fingers briefly, and nods. She won’t forget, and she knows exactly what tape he means Not that there won’t be a sextape at some point, but that’s a different story.
She lets his hand slide from hers, and watches as he walks out the door. She can’t help the little grin that remains in his wake, even when she digs a couple bucks for a tip to leave on the table behind them. She stands, straightens her coat, and moves to the door, waiting for him to bring the car around…
[…or come to his senses and run away…]
[John Thornton] It’s not more than two minutes, perhaps three, before the characteristic black Crown Victoria pulls to the front door to pick Izzy up. The sound of electric door locks unlatching is next heard, as the quiet loll of the souped up engine provides an inconstant background noise to the quiet of Grant Park at night.
The man within just happens to be prudent. And tonight, perhaps he’s betting a hotel has vacancies. Then again, with a car… Anywhere was within reach, almost. As Izzy opens the door, the wan smiling detective asks over the sound of jazz music from the stereo, “Where to, Miss?”
[Izzy Montoya] She slips out the door as the car pulls up, and opens the car door once the locks open. She leans in, a brow lifting slightly, as he calls her Miss, and she moistens her lips with the tip of her tongue, before her smile leans decidedly suggestive. “You sure you can afford me, Mister?”
Without waiting for his answer, she slips into the car and pulls the door closed after her, rubbing her hands together briskly to warm them. There’s Jazz on the stereo, and a smiling detective behind the wheel. Izzy slides over, slips her arm around him, and leans close to murmur across his ear. “Wherever you want, sir… but make sure it’s close enough I don’t get caught doing this…”
‘This’ seems to be her fingers sliding up his thigh, teasing in little swirls and circles, until fingertips walk up along the zipper of his slacks, before tugging it down… slow and teasing. A soft chuckle breathed against his neck. “I wouldn’t want anyone to call the cops…”
[John Thornton] John shakes his head and smiles…
“No, because that’s what they call solicitation. Let’s just call it a date…”
A call comes over the police radio, the jazz music turning quiet momentarily. Then, as John pulls the black car away from the curb, his pants straining against the swell of his anatomy as her fingers walk his zipper down, he speaks breathlessly.
“Somehow, I think they’re too busy for us right now.”
Funny thing though, as John drives… He doesn’t seem to be taking his time necessarily. Then, with a quiet laugh, he adds…
“By the way, just call me John.”
The irony strikes him with amusement; most who acquire dates of that sort were referred to as ‘Johns’ by their escorts.
[Izzy Montoya] “A date it is…”
She kisses her way down his neck, teasing with lips and teeth through his crisp dress shirt as fingers slide into his slacks and tease over that swell gently, but oh so achingly briefly as she pulls her hand back, in order to unbuckle his belt, the button quickly giving up it’s job holding the material closed as she lifts her head to press a kiss under his jaw, playful.
They’re too busy, those cops, and she chuckles. “Good. Because they just might arrest me for this, John…”
He’s not taking his time, though she doesn’t seem to notice, too intent on teasing him, mercilessly. Her fingers are cool as they slide under the waistband of boxer briefs, sliding over his length, encouraging that swell as she frees him from confining material. The car is warm – but not very, as winter’s chill clings to the air, but she’s a solution for that too. She simply rearranges herself, lowers her head into his lap, and pulls him deep into the heat of her mouth.
[John Thornton] “I doubt it….” John’s breath comes in a rushed gasp as she pulls him deep into her mouth, his head leaning back a bit as he sighs. Strangely, the engine seems a little louder, as the rpm’s out of the engine increase. He is warm to the touch, the coffee providing at least some relief from the freezing temperatures to his extremities. Still, whatever parts of him were cold all of a sudden are not… And it has nothing to do with the warm air from the heat vents either.
In between deep breaths, trying his best to focus on the road, John manages to get out briefly… “If they started to follow… I’d just… put in a call for backup nearby so they’ll divert… Oh man, Izzy…”
John is hard and erect… Excitement clearly visible upon his form.
[Izzy Montoya] Her fingers are a contrast to the heat of her mouth, sliding along his length as she lifts her head, briefly, pulling back to slide her tongue around sensitive glans, teasing across his skin before pulling him deep again. He’s trying to focus the road, on a plan B if they were followed, and she does her best to cause him to forget anything but the heat of her mouth, the eagerness of her touch…
He’s hard against her tongue, at the back of her throat, and she moans softly across heated skin, her fingers sliding under those briefs to tease nails oh so lightly across sensitive skin as she moves languidly, slowly, drawing out the sensations with the press of her tongue pressing against the vein underneath the shaft, sliding up to circle the tip, only to flow downwards once again..
Her name on his lips music to her ears…
[John Thornton] Then, the car starts to slow… Not because there’s a hotel in sight necessarily, but because even in this state, it’s all John can do to keep the car on the road. Eventually, with Izzy’s attentions, he decides he can’t even do that. The car pulls off and into a parking garage that’s all but abandoned. Wordlessly, the car spirals ever higher until it reaches the top level. The all but abandoned top level.
Nobody parked there this late at night; the employees of the hotel all parked on the lower levels at this time of night. John knew this, as well as the security layout of the cameras as a result of Vice investigations and stings… Just as he knew there was a blind spot in the cameras that nobody would notice in the very spot where they’d stopped.
He puts the car in park, and lets his hand move to the back of Izzy’s head. “Oh man… Izzy…”
[Izzy Montoya] She doesn’t know where they are, but she has a very good idea of why they stopped, when they eventually do. John has the presence of mind to get them into a blindspot at least, but all that’s on Izzy’s mind is the way he says her name, and the touch of his hand in her hair.
She has done questionably lewd things in a number of places – but this is the first she’s done in a police car, unmarked or otherwise. That’s not to say the thought never crossed her mind back when they were partners, spending countless hours in the car alone, daily, but no, this.. this bit of rebellion is for him alone.
The slide of her lips, the press of her tough, even the languidly gentle tease of her fingers are steady, slow, and focused solely on his enjoyment. There’s a soft moan at the back of her throat, as she slides fingers and lips in tandem along his length, a torturing tease as she works him, encouraging the moans, taking her cues from him…
She is often a selfish lover, demanding her satisfaction above anything else – but this has none of that selfishness she has been known for… It’s as if for right now, this moment in time, there is only one thought on her mind… pleasing him in such a way that he’ll only want more…
[John Thornton] As for John, he has just enough mental faculty left to pull the lever on the side of the seat, leaning the back of it down… Giving Izzy more room to work. This was something he’d fantasized about way back when… Before garou, before Chicago… Before he even met Izzy.
He never told her the one time he’d dreamt about her in exactly this situation, back when they were partners.
He groans and moans loudly, almost unable to keep his hips from pushing up into her, almost unable to keep himself from pulling her atop him. His voice is as quiet a whisper as ever he’s spoken… Barely more than a breath.
“Izzy…”
Just her name… It was all he could manage, as words failed him. It was a plea of need, of desire, of trust…. Of a million and more emotions indescribable.
Perhaps it was the moment. Perhaps it was her reputation, and his realization of how special this is… Of how exclusive she was being in her affections. Perhaps it was in how she looked at him, without guarding or reservation, sharing freely with him things the world didn’t get to see.
[Izzy Montoya] He lowers the seat back, and part of her is glad for the freedom it gives her, as her eyes close, the whole of her attention on his taste, the sensation of him sliding through her lips, pressed against her tongue, the back of her throat as she pulls him deep and deliberately swallows, the muscles of her throat constricting against him before releasing once more as she pulls back again. His need, voiced in moans and the breath of her name across his lips works a tremor through her slender frame, his plea heard and answered as she wraps her fingers around his length, to work in tandem with talented lips and tongue…
This moment, this gift means so much more here and now – something special offered in the act itself, solidifying everything she’d said to him in the diner. She’s his for the asking, everything she has, everything she will be – he has but to lay claim and she would be his, completely.
There is no hesitation, no reservation, though she does lift her head to look up at him, her fingers sliding over the tip of his cock, caressing before moving back to stroke him evenly… and it is then she gives him a final murmured gift – something only he will know now, for sure (though he’s likely suspected)…
…her first name. “Isabel.”
And then she lowers her head once more, and pulls him deep into her throat, eagerly encouraging him to give in to her, completely.
[John Thornton] There’s a part of him that should be terrified. There’s a part of him that should be convinced not to let things get too far. Not to let her get too close.
There’s a part of him that realizes it’s far too late to make that attempt.
So it was, as she caresses his cock, as she gives him this gift, as she tells him the one thing she’s never told anyone in his recollection, John finds himself unable to resist.
Gooseflesh rises upon his skin, his muscles all tightening at once… As a wave, a surge of sensation scalds his synapses like surfing on pure energy. His head falls back, and he lets out a loud, long groan…
And his sweat slicked form convulses ever so slightly as the orgasm carries him away.
[Izzy Montoya] She can feel it coming, under her touch, the way his body reacts, muscles tighten, and he cries out… she doesn’t back off, she doesn’t let go, she doesn’t pull away as thickened shaft jerks across her tongue, and spills deep into her throat… she swallows against sensitive tip, her fingers slowing into a gentle caress that allows him the freedom to press deeply against her, as she swallows reflexively again, again…
again…
Only when it fades into ultra-sensitivity does she caress his cock a final time with a slow slide of lips and tongue – only then does she lift her head, touching using the back of her hand to wipe her mouth as she twists in the seat to curl against him, sliding her arms around him, and burying her face against his neck with a softly content sigh.
He’s not the only one who frightened, who knows part of them should be terrified at this prospect, but knows… knows that she’s already let him all the way in – and in that, there’s a trust there that’s so complete, it leaves her trembling against him.
[John Thornton] John holds her tight, and in a tentative, frightful whisper.
“Izzy… My dear Isabel…”
He kisses her on the cheek tenderly, and just continues to hold her tightly…
“You can trust me.”
And somehow, the way he says it… he means more than that. She could trust him to do what needed done. She could trust him not to hurt her. She could trust him to make it okay in spite of their fear. She could trust him to lay claim to her…
And yet… There is a part of him, even as realization dawns that he was falling in love with her, assuming he hadn’t already, that fears Fate will take from him yet again.