[Marc] This was his new neighborhood. Lakeview. So, it is not a castle in the south of France. But all things considered? It could have been worse. The bold young kinsman has left his car in the garage and instead taken to the streets of lakeview on foot. Hands stuffed into the pocket of his fine slacks, a simple dark blue shirt, the top two buttons open. A nice striped jacket over it, open to the chill breeze. Dark clouds move above, threatening, and winds buffet the perfect disarray of blonde curls that frames a very handsome face.
He is tall, standing a nice 6’4, with lean frame. People who get real close to him get surprised at how hard is body is underneath those clothes. He takes good care of his body, as well as he should. In his own way, he is a warrior of Gaia and tribe, but his weapons are not claw or fang, but rather himself, the blood of kings and lunatics in him, the bold self-confidence of presence, and that charming smile that is like the sun.
He is in no rush, no hurry to get anywhere. Simply strolling to take in the neighborhood as he moves from the tall scrapers near the shore, further into the lakeview district. There is no fear in him to pass through alleys or cut through dark passages. Why would there be? He has a right to be there after all.
[Marni] Lakeview is where the rich folks live, really, which leads one to question, often, why a certain curvy gnawer would search and search until finding a small place – very small – in an apartment building that at least has some -very loose- security in such an area. The simple fact is – she promised, and so she makes good on it. The small studio apartment isn’t much to speak of, but it is clean, and fresh, and recently remodeled, and she’s making use of the benefactor’s card to make sure she has what she needs – which leads us to this…
…One Curvy Gnawer, traipsing down the street toward her apartment, carrying what certainly isn’t a very light box that contains a new four drawer dresser, waiting for her to curse at it as she attempts to put it together.
The box? Is almost bigger than she is, but she valiantly continues on, muttering under her breath as she does so. Just a few more blocks. Just a few more…
[Marc] [Do I have a clue?]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 6, 6, 7, 9, 10 (Failure at target 10)
[Marc] Marc is perceptive. Not to the point where he can always pick Garou out of a crowd? But perceptive enough to spot the box with two legs that stumbles up along the street. He slows his pace, glancing around, and then back to the struggle that takes place in front of his eyes.
Marc is many things. He is a charmer and a manipulator. He is a Silver Fang and a rebel. He is also raised with manners and with training to be of service. So it is only a moment it takes for him to decide to speak up as he approaches Marni with her burden.
“Excusez-moi miss…”
His voice is soft, friendly and questioning.
“Do you need a hand?”
Clear blue-green eyes on the curvy woman as he tries to get her attention.
[Marni] Someone asks if she needs a hand, voice soft and questioning, and Marni lets the bottom of the box fall to the ground, narrowly missing her toes as her eyes – dark, and sparkling with suppressed mischief – peek over the top of it at Marc. A brow arches to hide under an abundance of curls, and she dimples into a grin.
“That? Would be awesome. Fuckin’ thing’s almost as big as me, and not exactly light either, and I got like 3 more blocks and 4 flights of stairs to go… wanna grab an end?”
Marni’s rage is not a hot and heady thing – more like a simmering under the surface, a hint of what she is, simmering under the goodnatured mirth always seen in those dark eyes, and mischievous grin.
She looks over him, slow and easy, and then chuckles. “That is, if Princess Kate doesn’t mind you helpin the likes of lil ole me….”
[Marc] He is smiling and already bending down to give a hand when Marni speaks about princess Kate. It freezes the young kinsman in his tracks. There had been that feeling about the woman. Something that drew hi attention that had tickled at his nerves and along his spine, but something he had not reacted to. When she mentions princess Kate, recognition literally explodes down along his spine. Rage.
However, the surprise is brief, barely noticeable, and he glances up at Marni, grabbing one end of the box. There is a touch of humor in his voice.
“You know, I doubt she would concern herself in the slightest with who I decide to lend a helping hand to.”
Those clear eyes alight, looking at Marni, and his smile is easy and inviting.
“So shall we?”
[Marni] She snorts. “You’d be surprised, then, to find what Princess Kate and her Alpha think of me.” But she grins at him anyway as he grabs the other end of the box and nods. “Ready.”
She starts them in the right direction, walking faster and easier now that someone has taken half of the burden – though she certainly doesn’t slack on her half of the carrying either, clearly stronger than she appears.
Now, however, he can see that she’s dressed in tattered jeans, and a tank top that sticks to her skin in a very enticing manner, as she clearly has nothing on underneath it. It’s too fuckin’ hot for a bra, so she didn’t bother at all – and those curves are defined by the stretch of material and the way the jeans fit over the curve of her ass. She’s not stunning, by any means, but Marni certainly has it going on in all the right places.
“I’m Marni, by the way.”
[Marc] He chuckles softly with a small shake of his head.
“Oh trust me, she is to occupied with explaining to me that she has no interest in a rebel like myself to bother to tell me about what she thinks of others.”
The kin is by no means a Herculean man, but he is weakling. Kinfolk may be less then their true cousins, but they are so much more than human.
“I’m Marc.”
Marni is once again given that smile. Whatever princess Kate’s opinion of Marni is? It is clearly not shared, or a concern for the young kinsman. His gaze slide up and down Marni’s form, quite openly, and the curve of his lips becomes a little stronger as he takes in those luscious curves that needs no underwear to hold in place.
“So what exactly are we carrying? If this turns out to be a box with a body inside, I am so going to charge extra you know.”
His tone and expression show the joke for what it is meant to be.
[Marni] She chuckles. “I’m sure her Alpha would be happy to wax poetic on my personage given the chance. He likes to throw shit around like – what was it… oh yeah! Honorless thief that should be gutted… yes. That was it.” She smirks, and shrugs, and continues on their walk.
She knows that Marc is looking at her, and she doesn’t really seem to mind, or care that he does. She’s hot and uncomfortable and well, she’s also well aware of what her curves do to others, and not afraid to show it. She smirks a little, as his smile widens, and then outright laughs.
“Nah, no body. Not tonight anyway. S’a dresser.” a beat. “You don’t by any chance know how to put these things together do ya? There’s a 6pack of beer and left over pizza in it for ya if ya do…”
[Marc] ”Honorless thief huh? I shall keep it in mind.”
He chuckles, rolling his eyes a little. He is jaded towards such things. The Silver Fang courts would be abound by opinions and rumors, and you quickly learned to form your own opinions about people.
“Oh, beer and pizza. How American. It shall be a pleasure… As for putting it together? How hard can it be, right?”
The young kinsman really doesn’t have a clue, and is quite happy about it. He hefts the box up a little more as they walk, but his eyes are mostly on the curvy woman, and his smile does not falter in the slightest. That self-confidence and boldness so clear in those direct looks he gives the woman. He appreciates what he sees, and she knows it. Strangely enough, it is hard not to take it as what it is, a compliment.
[Marni] She grins and lets her eyes slide over him before she chuckles. “Nothing shiny. You’re safe. And what I supposedly stole from him… well. There’s no danger of that happening again for a while.”
She snorts. “American as can be. I’d offer fresh pizza, but well, this tapped me out for a while. Least the leftovers are relatively fresh.” If only he knew her tribe – he might be more frightened of the prospect. Relatively fresh could mean oh so many things. She nods up ahead though.
“It’s that one up there. 915.”
[Marc] ”Oh really? That’s disappointing.”
Said with a hungry smile. Then his gaze goes to the house, looking up. He nods and changes direction to start towards the door, into, and starting up the flights of stairs.
“Relatively fresh eh? Tell you what, you bring the cold beer and I shall order the pizza. Once we get this thing up those stairs!”
The tall kin finds himself bent in an almost uncomfortable position, trying to keep the box level up the stairs with the shorter woman holding the other end. Finally, he angles so he walks behind her. Easier for him to lift his end higher, then trying to carry it bent over.
[Marni] She chuckles and arches a brow “Disappointed that you’re safe, or that I can’t steal the same thing from you I allegedly did from him…” Dark eyes dance with mischief as they get into the door, and she waves to the doorman before heading toward the stairs.
Right past the elevator. “It broke this morning – supposed to be fixed tomorrow. Anyway – here we go. It’s only five flights…”
Only, she says…
She takes the lead, as it’s easier for him to lift higher than to stoop. She turns so she’s holding her end behind her back, and starts up the stairs at a pretty good clip, figuring he can keep up. He is, after all, kin, and likely up to the challenge…
Up and up and up and up and up… and finally she stops at the door of 5B, and sets her end of their burden on the floor. She wipes her brow with the back of her hand, curls damp with sweat as she heaves a sigh. “…whew.” She digs in the pocket of her jeans for her key, and opens the door to the small studio apartment within, holding the door open with her foot as she hefts her half of the burden again and leads him inside.
“Home sweet home.” There’s not much too the apartment, all told. There’s a kitchen unit along the right side of the largely empty room, which ends in a door that slides open to the bathroom beyond. Along the far wall there’s a mess of blankets on the floor, and a small pile of clothing strewn next to it, draped over her pack. The window is open, next to a fire escape which leads up to the roof (and, presumably, down to the ground) though it does little to ease the heat, so when she puts her end of the box down in the center of the largely empty room, she goes to her other prized possession, the first thing she bought – a standing fan – and turns it on full blast.
“Fuckmeit’sHOT…”
[Marc] He gives a low laughter as he takes the position behind the curvy gnawer. The young man spends at least a few hours each day conditioning himself, but some things are still tiresome, especially in the heat. By the time they reach the top, he is happy to shrug out of the thin jacket, casually throwing it over his shoulder as Marni opens the door, and then they are in once more.
“I have nothing worth stealing, so I go with option one.”
Once they are in, Marc looks around, slim brows raised, but quickly enough, his gaze is drawn to the curvy woman as she stands in front of the fan, and that smile is wide.
“Indeed. Quite hot.”
The jacket is thrown aside without care that it might become dirty or disheveled. The young kinsman moves to the window, hands on the edge as he leans out, looking first down, and then up before turning to lean against the frame, his eyes quickly finding Marni once more.
“Nice place.”
[Marni] She chuckles as she looks over at him, the fan sending her curls into complete tangled abandon. She doesn’t seem offended by his suggestion that she is just as hot as the room – in fact, it seems to amuse her, really, if her grin is any indication. He tosses aside his jacket, and it joins the pile of her things on the floor, as she doesn’t have anything else for it to land on – at least not until the dresser is put together.
He leans on the window frame, and she chuckles, letting her gaze drift over him […its been a long time, after all…] before she turns to the fridge to him a beer. She tosses his to him, and then empties her pockets onto the counter. Change, a battered beat up old out dated cell phone, a couple crumpled one dollar bills, a bank card, a tissue and a folded up piece of paper. She scoops all of it except for the phone into an empty drawer, and then opens the fridge again to grab the container of orange juice, drinking deeply right out of the carton.
She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, and shrugs. “It’s not bad. A little too fancy for the likes of me, really, but certain parties insisted that sleeping in a box is not a good idea, despite the fact that I’ve survived on the streets since I was oh, 9.”
[Marc] He catches the beer easily, popping it open and taking a mouthful. The cold beer slides easily down his throat, and he makes a pleased sort of sound in the back of his throat at the sensation.
“Ahh…”
Then his gaze returns to Marni.
”I must say, the streets seemed to have shaped you quite well.”
He is foreign. It is possible he meant to say it had shaped her up. Then again, going by those looks? He probably said exactly what he meant.
“So, shall we work up an appetite?”
It takes a moment before his gaze moves from Marni, that smile turned to the box with the drawer inside it.
[Marni] She just… grins at him. Because Marni is a lot of things, one of them being completely incorrigible. She arches that brow again, takes another long swig of her orange juice, and sets the carton on the counter. She opens the drawer again, and rummages around before coming up with a small tool kit. Only then does she move past him at the window, headed toward the box.
“Absolutely. Here, wanna screw…” a beat, where she grins, wickedly, up at him before completing the question… “…driver?”
She holds it out for him, and then settles to the floor and starts to open the box, pulling out pieces of the dark woodlike substance. It’s not the most expensive kind of dresser, more like the Walmart Special, but it’ll work.
[Marc] She moves to the box with the tool kit, and he straightens from the window, moving over to join her by the box. She holds the screwdriver out for him, and teases him as his hand comes to take the tool. His fingers close around it, catching the tips of her fingers in his grip, and he returns that wicked grin.
“Absolutely…”
He takes the screwdriver from Marni then rolls up the sleeves of his shirt.
“Right tools for the right job.”
He settles down next to the curvy woman. Not close enough to actually brush up against her, but close enough that when they reach for the different parts, there is more than one touch of skin against skin as they begin to figure out the mystery of do-it-yourself furniture.
[Marni] Absolutely, he says, and she just grins at him. She doesn’t pull away when he catches her fingertips, simply dropping her gaze to their hands and back up again, until he turns to help her with the dresser. He rolls up his sleeves, and she kicks off her shoes, and grabs the directions.
After a few minutes, it’s clear that she’s done something like this before, as she doesn’t have to look too often at the directions, simply directing him to the right pieces and parts and helping get it all put together right.
“So.” She says, conversationally. “Where ya from?” each brush of her arm against his, skin to skin, brings her just a little closer. she’s been without companionship for quite some time, and it shows, as she seems to glow under each little bit of contact, every tease.
[Marc] He knows well what a temptation he present for the garou. He has been taught to use it from an early age. Of course, his house had not quite expected him to take what they schooled him with, and go with it quite so freely, or with such an independent mind. He does it naturally now, the teasing, the contact of skin against skin, or stolen glances and appreciative smiles. He does it because he enjoys it, not because someone tells him to do it.
His experience with things like this? Well, there are some first’s left for the kinsman. This would be one of those. He knows how to use the tools well enough, and he follows Marni’s directions easily. She moves closer and closer, and he seems to have nothing against that at all.
“Here and there… But I was raised in southern France, and schooled in England before I got the hell out.”
He takes a long drink of the cold beer then places the can back on the floor next to the drawer as it starts taking shape.
“But I have to say… Doubtful as I was coming here, I am beginning to find it a comfortable place. A tribal leadership that wants no knowledge of my personal life, and… Warm and friendly people.”
[Marni] He uses what he has – and she is not immune to it. She, too, though schooled in a much different manor, is well versed in getting what she wants, in teasing and touching, and smiling in a way that makes it quite evident that she’s aware of the temptation, and is a willing participant in the tempting, herself. After all, she doesn’t have to stretch across him tor each that screw, or handle, or anything else. She doesn’t have to make sure the swell of her breast brushes against his arm, she doesn’t have to let him hear the soft intake of breath as he brushes his hand against hers….
She doesn’t have too -but she does. She knows exactly what she is, and what she’s doing…
“That so? And how long do you think her disinterest will last? Her alpha’s kin thought the same thing, and well…” she snorts, but simply shrugs.
[Marc] ”Oh, I think it will last as long as I keep her interested in me, without bending to her like her other peons…”
A game that the young kinsman is quite adept at playing. His gaze on Marni for a moment as she speaks of Lukas, and his kin.
“Lukas have no expectations of me, beyond helping the other kin with my skills, which I am quite willing to do.”
He rises up, one hand down against the floor, pushing himself upwards. His other hand brushing past her shoulder and her neck as he stands and moves to the fridge, glancing over his shoulder at Marni with a smile.
“Are you worried you will get into trouble with them?”
Slim brows raised slightly as he takes another cold beer from the chill compartment and then the carton of juice Marni had drunk from. He moves back to where she is sitting and retakes his place next to her, this time close enough that the heat from his skin mixes easily with the sensation of her rage. He offers her the juice, waiting for her to take it before he opens the beer.
“More then you already are I mean.”
[Marni] She chuckles at his description of what he’ll do to Kate, the game he’s playing. Then as his hand brushes past her neck, her shoulder, her eyes close and she catches her breath, holding it for a long moment before she turns to watch him walk across the room. He takes his beer, and grabs her juice, which she takes from him as he sits close enough for her to feel…
She chuckles softly, darkly. “I will forever be in trouble with him. I’ve committed the ultimate sin, apparently, and anything I do that could be twisted to be wrong, will be so twisted. And I’ve got months of said treatment to look forward too.”
A shadow passes her eyes as she looks around the small room, room paid for by the man she’s forbidden to see, to be with, and she shakes her head, slightly, before she takes another long swig of the juice. “Fuckin’ lords, man. Seriously.”
[Marc] He holds on to the cold beer, letting the chill seep into the tips of his fingers.
“Well then… If you are already forever in that hole…”
He shifts the can to the other hand, then reaches up to run cold fingertips, moist from the condensation of the can, across the skin of her upper arm slowly, his eyes locked on hers.
“Then I say you should at least have fun in the depths.”
That smile is undisturbed by the shadow on her features.
[Marni] She arches a brow, slightly, but lets a soft moan fall from her lips as chilled fingertips slide along her skin… she is a creature of touch, of sensation, and she shivers under the exploration in a way that has nothing to do with the moist chill… and everything to do with the way he’s looking at her, and his suggestion… it has, after all, been two months without any form of cuddling but from her packmates… and that’s just not the same.
“Don’t you even want to know what I did, first?” Curious, really… even as she knows that by saying ‘first’ she’s suggesting that she very well will have fun in the depths with him.
[Marc] ”Would it change anything for you, if I know what you did?”
He continues to trace his fingers, slowly up along her arm, to her shoulder, and slowly out over her collar bone.
“My curiosity about you… Has nothing to do with the Shadow lord.”
He gets to his knees, moving easily to slide behind her. His hand moving from her collarbone back to her shoulder, soon joined by his other hand on her opposite shoulders, to put gentle pressure against skin and muscles beneath. He tilts his head forward as he begins to massage her, his voice a low whisper as his breath caresses the back of her ear.
“But if you rather discuss what you did to earn Lukas Ire… I will listen.”
[Marni] She doesn’t stop the traveling of his hands, and has no intention of doing so as he moves behind her. He begins to massage her shoulders and her eyes close with a soft moan, and she lets her head fall foward, curls sliding away from her neck to bare it to him and his whims as he slides his hands over her shoulders…
“It won’t for me…” she says softly, the sound trailing into a soft moan as he hits a particularly tight spot on her shoulders… “but might for you… depending on your views of fucking around with knocked up gnawers…”
Not so much that she wants to discuss it, but that she wants him to be aware of her condition before his hands – ooooooooooh his hands – travel any farther…
[Marc] ”Well, that does pose an interesting question….”
Her revelation does not stop the massage. The kinsman is doing what he does best, offering comfort in the form of that massage, easily finding and working at those tight spots. His hands firm. With her neck bared, he takes the opportunity as he shifts his head around to the other side of her head to brush his lips against warm skin before whispering again.
“Am I likely to be chased down by a jealous man for what I am about to do?”
His hands slide slowly down from her shoulders, over her shoulder blades, and around to her sides. Experienced hands and fingers keep the touch firm, following the lines of her ribs without tickling. Slowly sliding around her body to rest against the top of her belly, just brushing past the swell of her breasts.
[Marni] He doesn’t stop, and his lips against the back of her neck, the whisper of words across her skin causes her lips to curl into a hungry smile… his touch is firm, and he slides over her ribs, hands resting along the top of her belly that has not yet begun to swell, hiding the life within under the smooth, still flat lines of her abdomen…
“Mmmmmm I don’t think so – I’ve not chased down his other girlfriends… though I’ve no right too just yet, anyway as Lukas refused my claim.”
She takes a deep breath, arching her back, the heavy swell of her breasts straining against the tank top as she lifts a hand to slide it up and around the back of his neck… “So… what is it, exactly, that you’re about to do?”
[Marc] He tips his head forward as she slides her hand around her neck, tilting it down to where his lips are just brushing against her neck, his words against it, breath warm against her skin and rage.
“Good enough for me…”
She gets the feeling as his lips curve into a smile against her neck, that even if she had said that he would be chased down, by a man or a garou or both? It would only have spurred him on. Like her, he does not seem the least bit afraid to reach out and take what he wants. The tank top strains against her breasts, and it allows him to feel those soft swells as he moves one hand up from her belly, slowly over her breast and then up over her collarbone and finally to her throat to gently tip her head backwards to lean against his strong shoulder, also serving to trap her raised arm between his biceps and his neck.
He smiles as he nips at the side of her jaw, along the line, taking his time before he answers.
“I am going to work up a thorough appetite.”
[Marni] She laughs, softly, allowing him to trap her arm, to move her as he will – for now. He isn’t afraid to take what he wants, and in that he reminds her of Ray, though there are marked differences too. He teases his teeth along the side of his jaw and she closes her eyes with a softly delighted sigh…
“Ooooooooh I was so hoping you’d say that…”
Nails tease along the back of his neck, her free hand sliding down to caress along his thigh, willing, it seems, to let him have his way with her however he wishes… “Just be warned that my appetite is greater than most…”
in oh so many ways…
[Marc] ”Oh really?”
He lets his other hand drop down over her firm belly, fingers teasing just above the line of her jeans. He is pressed up against her back, holding her there as he kisses and nips at the line of her jaw. She can feel the lean muscles of his leg as she teases fingers over his slacks.
“Then I will have to fight to keep up…”
His fingers catch the top button of her jeans , deftly opening it before drawing his fingertips along the new line of exposed skin.
[Marni] “Ummmmmhmmmmm…”
She chuckles softly, her skin soft under his tracing hands, and she watches his traveling fingers through dark lashes even as she tilts her jaw into his kisses and the nip of teasing teeth. Her fingers slide over his thigh, feeling the muscles underneath, sucking in her belly to let him more easily unlatch the button of her jeans…relaxing into his touch….
Her thighs part in blatant invitation as she shifts her position slightly to allow him that more access to her small, yet deliciously curvy frame. It seems as if she is at his whim, when they both know she could (and just might) reverse it at any moment…
…its part of the thrill of fucking werewolves…
She changes the angle of her free arm, sliding her hand along his inner thigh, upwards over the material of those expensive slacks, teasing nails in little circles, teasing him as much as he teases her…
[Marc] She sucks in her belly, and his fingers find the next button, popping it open. Enough room now to slide his hand down between jeans and her warm skin. Guiding it down slowly, fingers teasing and exploring. His gentle kisses and nips against her jaw become a little more enthusiastic, a little hungrier with each caress of her hand against his slacks.
Part of the thrill. That excitement that her curvy frame offers. That inferno of her rage bubbling just underneath her skin, warming it, fueling her passions and his. There is no hesitation in the kin, even knowing the gnawer is the one with strength beyond measuring. She is a creature of power and instinct, and he is a kin. Yet (for now) he leads her, teasing her, building the excitement in her with willing hands and hungry lips.
His hand drops from her throat to slide down over her tank top again, cupping the generous breast for a moment before fingers catch the fabric, pulling it upwards until the fabric no longer contrains her curves, baring her breast to the warm air.
[Marni] He slides his hands farther into her jeans, and she sighs a soft moan of encouragement, shifting her position slightly to allow him easier access to warm, sensitive skin. Her eyes close as she aches her neck into those kisses and nips, a new hunger that has nothing to do with the promised pizza building in the pit of her belly…
He slides his hands over her breast, and she arches her back into his touch, another content little sigh escaping as he peels the tanktop from her curves, letting the warm air slide over her skin, followed by his fingers – her nipples crinkling instantly in anticipation and delight…
her hands are not still, either – one teasing nails along the back of his neck, staying out of the way so that he can continue to play unhampered about her curvy form, while the other searches and caresses against his inner thigh, higher until she is able to slide her hand along his length, all but purring a soft moan once she does…
[Marc] His excitement is no secret, and she can feel it as she runs her hand along his thigh as it strains against his slacks. He presses his hips forward a little into her touch. She can feel his reaction at her touch in the exhale of breath against her neck.
As she shifts her position to allow him to explore, he takes full advantage, sliding his hand further down in her jeans, long fingers sliding down into that delicious, sensitive warmth. He slides it down to part skin, finger moving in tight quick circles, searching and teasing.
She can feel his smile against her skin as he works his lips down the side of her neck, teeth catching skin in bites that are just shy of leaving marks, mixing with touch of lips so soft that it makes her doubt they touched at all.
[Marni] He presses his hips forward, and she smiles, pleased, and her fingers continue to explore, sliding along his length, teasing with every stroke through his slacks, even tightening briefly against him as his fingers find oh so sensitive heat, a soft cry falling from her lips with the first of those circles, her breath caught and held and released shakily again as he teases her…
She adjusts the position of her arm, again, in order to find the fastening of his slacks, blind fingers searching for his belt, his button, the zipper, eagerly tugging to get at the heated throb within in…
She can feel him smile, and she is not shy about voicing her pleasure her soft sounds and sighs just a hint of what may come if he continues to tease and touch her… hips curl into those teasing fingers, and she bites her lower lip with a soft moan…
[Marc] She gives him the little things. The way she moves into his touch, the way she sounds and catches her breath. It all helps to guide him, to push him on to new things, never letting his fingers rest in their teasing exploration. Not until his hand slides down as far as her jeans will allow, fingers curling around the sensitive skin, parting it to let a long finger slide into her. Only then does he stop the teasing, if only for a moment, as if he enjoys the sensation of her moist heat enclosing his finger. A moment of holding inside her and then he pulls it out to tease against sensitive folds again. A taste of what is to come.
She has no trouble finding his belt and getting it open. Slightly less trouble with the button or the zipper, and before long, she can reach inside his briefs to find the swollen length of him, almost throbbing at the touch of her fingers. He might not be as vocal as the woman trapped against him? But he hides nothing in the way his body reacts to her, pushes against her touch, or the way his breath catches in his throat.
[Marni] She slides her fingers around his shaft, his body reacting under her fingertips, his breath catching against her neck, giving her the little reactions every bit as freely as she offers her own to him… and when his finger slides deeply within her, she cries out softly, slick muscles rippling in welcome, tightening against him in promise of her accepting what will come…
“ohfuuuck…” She turns her head then, her fingers tightening in the hair at the back of his skull, pulling his face from her neck as she ducks her own, capturing his lips in a kiss that is as ferocious as it is promising – hungry, almost bruising as she claims him as her own for the night, sealing what they both know will happen with her kiss…
… all the while her fingers continue their teasing stroke along sensitive skin…
[Marc] She grbas him by the ahir, and he meets that kiss. The hunger in him, at least for the moment, near enough to match the gnawers. He holds the kiss, enjoying the roughness of it, of her reaction. When he does break it, it is to slide his hand up from her jeans enough to open them fully.
There is no softness in either of them. No sensitive touches. It is simply pure, unadulterated passion allowed to run free. Once he gets her jeans open, he leans forward, using his body to push her forward. Moving to get her to lean forward, either to catch herself, or just lean down to press her own chest to the floor to allow him to slide her jeans down off her hips, to lay her completely bare to his every whim.
Whims that are not hard to imagine.
[Marni] He breaks the kiss, and she allows him too, her hand sliding from his hair to fall to the edge of her tank top – as he pushes her forward, she strips it from her curvy form, tossing it aside and letting him push her to the floor, the carpet an added sensation against sensitive skin, even as she wriggles to help him free her of those jeans, laying herself bare, there, for his every whim…
and some of her own, of course, as well…
free’d from her clothing, she stretches luxuriously, thrilling in the scratchy softness of the carpet as it slides under her skin, her back arching, hips lifting into the air in blatant display and invitation… she stretches her hands out above her head, as far as she can, and then pushes up a little with a little wiggle and grin, just enough to allow dark eyes to peek over her shoulder at him as a brow arches into those curls…
[Marc] She knows exactly how to show off those ample curves of hers. Even before she looks, she can hear him slide out of his slacks. When she looks over her shoulder, he had his hand on his shirt, working one of the buttons. As he catches her gaze, the way her hips angle up? The buttons pop as he simply pulls the shirt open. The small pieces bounce on the carpet around them.
His hands find her skin again, sliding over the curve of her round ass, sliding around the dip of her slim waist as he moves up behind her. She can feel his length as it presses against her thigh. Marc is a tall guy, and he leans over her, one hand sliding up along her spine up to her neck where fingers curl into her hair at the back of her head, tightening into a firm grip. Slowly, he pulls her up by that grip, making her back arch further as his lips find her shoulder. He bites at her skin, playful almost in the way he nips at it.
His other hand sliding from her waist, down and around to tease fingers over her belly to her belly button, and then down in between her legs, searching out the heat between her thighs.
[Marni] Oh she knows. She is no stranger to this, the coupling with a virtual stranger, the seeking of satiation within the caress of skin and collision of bodies… she is open and free with her teases, with her reactions, hiding nothing from her partner of the evening… there is a lot of Marni to love, and she loves showing it off…
the popping of those buttons makes her laugh softly, even as she curls into the slide of his hands, pressing back against him with a softly delighted, eager sigh… his fingers slide to tangle into her hair and she pulls her up, finding her limber form moving easily at his urging, the bite causing her to catch her breath in a way that encourages even more…
his free hand finds it’s way between her thighs, thighs that willing part for his welcome invasion, her own fingers sliding back to find his hips, and explore what skin she can reach, while she presses back against him with an eager little moan…
[Marc] She loves showing it off, and she finds him a willing enough partner, not once bothering to hide his appreciation for the curvy gnawer, the stranger that submits (for now) so willingly to his guidance. She drags nails across his hips, rewarded by a shiver from the kinsman, and a shift of his hips, raising them to slide his shaft up along the inside of her thigh. His hand against sensitive skin there finding good use as agile fingers spread her open even as he draws his hips back. There is a moment when she feels the tip of him brush against moist heat, and he straightens up from where he was leaning forward.
Then he thrusts inside her, deep and hard. Only his hand that slides to catch the curve of her hips, and his fingers tangled in her hair make sure she doesn’t move too far ahead but instead is held against that thrust to let it go as deep into her as it is possible. His hips pressed against her, and he holds her still for a moment, once again as if just savoring the sensation of her around him.
[Marni] Agile fingers spread her, and then… then he slides deep into her, pulling a soft cry from the curvy gnawer, her back arching to accept him as deeply as possible into her moist heat, not moving away, letting him hold her as hips settle against hers. Slick muscles ripple and grip against him, signaling her delighted welcome even as she pulls slightly against his hold, only to press back against him again…
her eyes are closed, her nails dig lightly into his hip, the other hand curling into the carpet for some steadying hold, her breath a soft moan of delighted need…
“Ohgooodyoufeelgood…”
It’s been a long fucking(fuckless) two months…
[Marc] She moans that soft torrent of words as he holds her, and his reply is a low near growl of native French.
”Je vais…”
He begins to pull his hips back slowly, further and further until she is sure he is going to pull himself out from slick, warm embrace. Just as she is sure there is no doubt he is just teasing her, he thrusts back, as hard and sudden as it had been slow and teasing pulling away, pulling her right back with that grip of her hair and around her waist, the sound of skin against skin nearly enough to overpower the explosive exhale of breath from the kin, his words deep.
“Vas te faire encule à dur.”
This time, she is not given a moment, as he begins to roll his hips, each gyration pulling out almost fully before pushing right back in, his grip on her tight. There is no doubt. No second guesses. This is Fucking, with no wish or desire for anyting different then slaking that hunger and thirst that ravage them both.
[Marni] “ohfuckinggod…” he speaks to her… in french… a growl with an accent and words she doesn’t understand exactly the translation – yet somehow, knows exactly what he means anyway… she may not speak another language, but the song of two bodies melding together in desperate need, in the quest for fulfillment, for the full on satiation only found within the arms of another..
He pulls out, so far, teasing her, and she responds with a soft whimpering laugh, a chuckle that’s forced from her mere seconds later as he’s rocking into her deeply once again… this is not lovemaking, this is nothing tender.. this is a pounding fuck…
…and exactly what she needs.
exactly what she wants
…exactly what she demands with every rising moan, every desperate cry for more…
[Marc] You can say many things about the kinsman known as Marc. He can be rebellious, or stubborn or impossible. He is all of those things. And it does not change the simple truth of his being. He is made, from the lean, strong lines of his body that he works so hard at keeping just perfect, to the purity of his blood that sings to the garou
To bring pleasure.
He delivers on those promises.
He holds nothing back as he pounds his length into the curvy gnawer over and over. A change of pace here, a switch of direction there until he feels the woman (Because face it, in those arms, for the moment, she is just a woman) give in to a first climax, sweat gleaming on their bodies. As it passes, he finally lets go of her hair, breathing deep and hard as he handles her with surprising strength, turning her to her back and laying down on top of her, moving in between her thighs.
He crushes her down against the carpet soon enough with her legs wrapped around his hips, thrusting into her. His lips on hers as she claims them with fierce, bruising kisses. This time, the kin moans, eyes nearly rolling into the back of his head as they find orgasm together.
Sweat slicking their skin, pressed tight together, taking a moment to breathe, bodies shuddering and quivering. A moment’s pause, a strange stillness from the rough sex. But only moment as the kin catches his breath. Soon enough, he is on his back, the luscious woman sitting over his hips, grinding back and forth, her hands pressing his chest down, even as he stares at her with those vivid, blue-green eyes, his hands against her body, roaming free over breasts and sides.
Then it is up against the fridge, the cold metal of the door a searing counterpoint to bodies that burn fever bright.
Leaned over, face pressed against the glass of the half opened window, only her hands against the sides of the wall stopping him from pushing her out on to the fire-escape with each thrust.
The kitchen unit.
The shower.
The kin’s trade is giving pleasure. He does it with a stamina and exuberance of youth. She shows him exactly how much she enjoys it, taking out those long months of frustration on the young kinsman that is more than willing to submit to her whims as she submitted to his.
The sun is down, hours since when the worst of that thirst is finally slaked. The apartment showing signs of that wild abandon, as do their bodies. She claimed him for the night, and that is what she gets.
When she wakes with the rising sun, only a few buttons of that blue shirt remains. That, and his scent clinging to her.