milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Okay, he's back. Jittery, (though he knows better than to show it,) and watching the bar from a place in the corner (where he can have his back to a wall) and fingers curled tight around his glass.

But he is here.

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Beautiful, says his voice.

"Pity."

The smile only widens in contrast to the words and she shifts closer, utterly pleased.

"Perhaps it is unfortunate that most people do not do well with me to begin with."

She'll work on it, she really will.

He flags for a waitrat, with a small grin.

The subject of family is one very easily dropped.

Especially with such favorable ones to replace it.

"I wonder," she murmurs lightly, fingers tracing an idle pattern down one of his arms.

"Like you wouldn't know a thing about it, dear."

Quiet pride, and affection, and his hands wrap around her waist and draw her near.

A low purr of laughter and she goes willingly - eagerly, even.

"Very still, sweet thing."

He smirks.

"More than, dear."

A thoughtful pause, and she grins in return - utterly shameless.

"Not that I would object to further fulfillment, love."

A small leer.

"Do you now?"

Leans forward once more - eyes dark, noses brushing.

"Going to make me blush, dear?"

Lips so close to hers.

Eyes closed to slits, watching him through dark lashes.

"Might take more than once," she whispers, words hot against his lips.

"Wouldn't want to miss anything."

His tongue darts out, to brush her bottom lip, in a quick swipe.

Teeth pull at her lower lip - tongue following slowly, purposefully - smile curving.

"Always good to be thorough."

With such a creature as her.

She leans forward for a rather thorough kiss before tracing a set of fingers down his jaw.

Attention before talking. She is, after all, still a greedy thing.

"What happened?"

Easily now - settling once more, fingers lazily curling at his neck.

Quiet and bemused.

But that's not the important part of the story, though she can pretend it is if she wants to. He feels like his throat is bared, and doesn't let it show.

She blinks and it's something like fear for the briefest of moments - fear and some creeping, unfamiliar sort of pleasure.

It's something like the word perfect. She likes it - but she only likes it when he says it.

Another moment of consideration - eyes dark, appraising - before she pauses, smiles. Tilts her head and bares her throat in turn, all pale skin and black velvet.

"Yours, Frost."

Pleasure, relief, and his head dips to press a kiss there, just above the necklace he gave her.

She hums in an entirely pleased manner and lets her fingers resume tracing idle patterns.

"Though I will have to meet your sister before killing her, dear."

Teasingly, sulkingly into her skin.

"Smiting is generally frowned upon here, sweet thing."

She pouts sympathetically, smooths his hair.

"And it is much more fun to play with your toys first."

He sounds utterly amused.

"Your Satan, yes?"

She grins, bites lightly at his jaw.

"Should all be in the same place, dear. I'll even find my miserable little sister, drag her by the ear - have a grand time of it."

Oh, family.

Not that he's seen.