[It works. She's not picky (they've got construction crews on every corner and a handful of overseers manning the entire progress, but amenities like this don't see regular use the way the scaffolding outside does) and as a sharp pang of pain from the metal back of the elevator rides the curve of her spine, Nisha doesn't even bother with stifling a sincere laugh: teeth set, nails at his neck digging in half-circles around the very edge of his mask to bleed a few red, livid lines. All foreplay, all stupid little gestures while she locks up under those precise points where he's got her pinned.
There's something wild and hungry in her eyes - his work doesn't even begin to stop her from going for the latches keeping his mask in place.
It's why she wanted privacy in the first place, after all. The rest of it? They could fuck under the statue of him for all she cares.]
no subject
There's something wild and hungry in her eyes - his work doesn't even begin to stop her from going for the latches keeping his mask in place.
It's why she wanted privacy in the first place, after all. The rest of it? They could fuck under the statue of him for all she cares.]