albinomilksnake | OPEN RP PART II: ELECTRIC BOOGALOO

[She snorts out a breathy little response. A laugh, from the way her mouth tugs at the edge as she leans in to set it against his hand, just over the curve of her own. Maybe a scoff. Maybe both.

But it's her lips and the heat of her breath against his skin, the scent of worn, familiar leather front and center with every inhale. Every careful, teeth-scuffed kiss. Quiet. Simple. Almost caring, if Nisha ever knew how to be.

She doesn't though. Never had it from her mother, her father was too afraid-- she understands nothing of affection the same way she understands nothing of a pristine, sparkling city full of pristine, sparkling people. He can promise she'll have a place all he likes, but Nisha? Nisha isn't certain that's a promise he could keep, even if he wanted to.]

Sounds perfect. [Her profile noses in across his knuckles, eyes lidded for a brief moment or two.]

[This is where he'd roll his eyes, if only because she knew exactly how to get back into his good graces. Jack uncurls his fingers from her's to allow her better access and simply smiles. In spite of the fact that he should know that Nisha is one person he doesn't have to look after, he can't help but do it anyway. The world is full of terrible people after all. Terrible, lying, backstabbing cowards all trying to get a piece of the action without putting the work in.

That's why he had body doubles. That's why Nisha was here in Opportunity now where he had to focus his attention. That's why he was trying to change the shithole that was Pandora. That was why he wore the mask--]

I know.

[His ring finger strokes her cheek. He could ignore the bots. They'd be on their way soon.]

[Nisha never feels the urge to go toe-to-toe with him over the trivial. Petty bullshit better off plugged up like open wounds instead of picked at till it festers. Her fingers tug the whip from his hands as his grip goes lax, cheek replacing it, sliding down so that she's settled like a solid weight against him.] You worry too much.

[All cool confidence while her arms move to bracket his hips, while she parts her lips and marks the fine bones of his wrist with her teeth to end where her kisses have left off.] We've got the key, we've got the bandit trash on the run - Pandora's my turf: they get too close for comfort, I'll take care of it.

I always do.

[Because he might not be saying it out loud, but he's on edge. Has been for a long time. And with scars like that under the edge of his mask, Nisha doesn't stop for a second to blame him.]

Excusez-moi, I worry just the right amount.

[It isn't that he doesn't trust her to get the job done, but she knows first hand what too much trust does to a person. He had trusted so many people, and every single one of them had tried to kill him.

And that was before he had a taste for bloodshed.

Whether Nisha knows it or not, she still matters to him as much as people could matter. He uncurls his fingers and gives her the access she requests, exhaling just a little. Maybe she doesn't know the worth of affection, but its occasionally a nice novelty.

Novelty. Not a constant.]

OK? OK.

Mmm. [Her grin widens when she offers up a purposefully indifferent little noise, inching in away from his arm, nails at the small of his back, profile set against his own. He's tall. It's one of the many, many things he has going for him, but so is she, and the bridge of her nose isn't all that far away from the line of his own.] Not sure if I buy it.

[A point she punctuates by chasing his lips with a sharp, familiar sort of bite. Sup, hotshot.]

[Jack the bite makes his jaw set firmly, but the facade falls away to the little tickle that sits at the base of his spine. He chuckles with some delight and falls back in step to what Nisha had started in the first place.

She's already got a grip on him, and he let's her keep it. This time he leans into her nails, brings his hand down to the rear pocket of her jeans and squeezes her close.

The other hand slips under her jacket, but not the shirt beneath it.]

Call me handsome again.

[Pressure not at all unwanted where the curve of her hips is set against his own, teeth moving across to find the low seam of his mask where it traces the jut of his jaw. Experimental in the way that she tests it with scuffs and scrapes to see exactly how much he can feel through the artificial. It's not the first time, but it's a fascination that never wears thin.

Nisha waits until her mouth finds his ear to whisper off what he wants to hear.] I changed my mind.

I want privacy, Handsome Jack. [The slow roll of his name nothing more than an easy purr under her careful drawl.]

[There it is.

The chuckle turns deeper, a sort of sadistic delight that is mirrored in his movements. He digs his nails in and reaches for the back of her neck to drag her back to the elevator around the corner. He isn't going to wait until they're in his office though.

Jack slams her straight into the wall of the elevator without much mercy and kicks the button to send them up. By the time they are moving, his hand is already down her pants while the other holds the back of her neck to keep her under his thumb -- literally. It sits at a pressure point, but doesn't push. Not yet.

He has a feeling he'll need the leverage.]

[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.]

[He doesn't register what she's doing until she's already figured the latches out. and he immediately stutters with some stiffness when the elevator jerks to a stop. It doesn't kill the mood like the cleaning crew had, but it catches him uncomfortably in the middle of foreplay.

Handsome Jack wears the mask for a reason, after all. His breathing is heavy and angry and though he's gone a bit sharp under her hands, it hasn't stopped him from manhandling her.

His voice is all skeptical humor to hide his discomfort. Its not like she hasn't seen him without the mask before, but there was a sort of unspoken agreement that they'd never mention it again.]

What're you doing?

[Unspoken for him, maybe. He's indulged in those insecurities for the most part, but Nisha loves pain-- the thrill of unearthing what's underneath skin and flesh-- and the mask is...tempting to say the least. Has her curious after all this time to see what's healed and where.

To map his features with her mouth instead of retracing old memories.

One of the latches at his temple is carefully unlocked. She's even more careful with her answer, lips still drawn up into an easy smile:] I want to see you again.

[He's obviously still resistant, judging by the way his fingers dig, but there's no verbal demand to stop her or any actual reach for her hands. There is a dangerous sort of venom in his green eye in particular. Its much more obviously artificial when the latches come loose, as it doesn't move from Nisha's face.

He knows what is under the mask. He had checked for so long in hopes that it would heal on its own, but it never had. Not even skin grafts would've fixed the horrid brand, and his eye -- well.

He won't understand her curiosity, so he doesn't try. He'll just get mad...more mad. He twists his nails the second he feels like she's looking at him for too long.]

Can we move on?

Mmhm. [Mouth finding his temple, mask still in-hand and no closer to being replaced. She can feel him anxiously bearing down, but it's not the reason Nisha's pressing the limit by breathing low over skin that's stayed too long in the shadows.

Of course that doesn't mean she's not enjoying it, either.

Besides, there's a certain tension to the fingers he's left tucked well below the edge of her waistband, and she'd have to be numb five times over not to notice-- or care. The elevator doors stuck open at his back reflected in the glint of the arm she's draped over his shoulder, just where the edge of his mask catches the light.]

[Jack has kept his temporary holdings in Opportunity clear of CL4P-TP units this time around, which makes him less inclined to worry about the door open at their back. This office would eventually be given to a body double if things when according to plan and on schedule.

But that's for later.

Feeling the air whisk across otherwise shrunken and burned skin might have been relaxing, if it wasn't for the fact that Nisha was taking her time in following the indents made from the mask placement. It isn't relaxing when she's thirsting for a response from him.

He can't figure out if she's pursuing him for the response or because she had been genuinely curious. Probably both. His inability to figure her out was part of the reason she was so attractive, and also very dangerous.

But she gets the reaction. Another harsh shove backwards and upwards, pulling at skin and making it raw, forcing her mouth away from where it had been so he can fight for her neck instead, like he had earlier. The wall is used as a brace to hold her off the ground.]

You think you're freakin' hilarious, don't you?

[It's unexpected enough (and pleasantly so) that Nisha chokes out an involuntary gasp before settling back into laughter again. Mask dropped just behind him so her fingers can move up to catch and pull at his hair, hips arced up into his hand for the sake of bracketing his sides with her legs. Cool metal digs into her shoulderblades through the fabric of her shirt and-- god, she loves it. He was always handsome enough to at least have her attention, but after Helios...

Goes without saying she loves it when he's wild-- and submissive for that matter. It's all pretty much a constant so long as they've got people to kill and places to fuck.]

Best damn comedian on Pandora. [Is all she manages to get out, thumbs scuffing the edge of his sideburns where the magnetic bolts keep his mask steady.]

[What Nisha gets out of him is a drawn out raspberry into her neck as he tries to hold down an exaggerated scoff.]

Ha ha ha. Oh boy. You have some pretty steep competition for that title, kiddo. Some prit-tea funny stuff happens on Pandora.

[But the humor is a cover-up for his discomfort. Luckily, the fingers pulling at his hair is a perfect distraction. He scrapes the lower line of his teeth roughly against the corded muscle at the front of her neck, loosening his grip on her just enough to make it easy for her to settle in over his hips. Its not much contact, but its enough for him for now.

The anticipation would just make it better.]

[Well it certainly doesn't stifle the laughter on her part, at least, half-cringed as her chin drops down to try and block him off from snorting against her skin. Her collar at least blocking off some of it, though the scrape of teeth he follows it up with helps ease her back off the defensive, helps her relax her spine so that her weight rests in part against the high point of his hip bones while the rest stays supported by the wall itself.

But he hasn't dropped her to retrieve the mask - there's something peculiarly charming about that, despite the fact that she'd never begin to expect it. And it means her nails at his scalp are more a comfort than just dug-in pain to spur him on.]

--Mm. Speaking of, you really ought to pay a visit to Lynchwood sometime. [She rolls against him, using leverage to apply pressure. He wants anticipation, he can have it.] I killed this guy the other day? Choked him out with barbed wire. Real slow.

And just-- the noises he made, I swear-- [Guess who's amused by her own inside joke enough to be on the verge of laughing again? Just guess.]

[He plans on going for the mask as soon as he puts her down, but for now she has her hands in just the right spot and he's got her pressed against a wall.

Jack pauses briefly when she starts to tell her tale, pausing to let the visual form. His imagination was always overactive, and where Nisha manages to suppress her chuckle, he does not.]

No kiddin'. Did he cry? Bet he wet his pants when you brought it out.

[He removes his grip from her hips entirely then, leaving her to support her own weight against the wall and his waist. Jack's hands immediately start to wander under her shirt, dragging his nails, practically begging for more detail.

If he focuses on that enough, if he keeps his face close enough to her, he can forget the mask is off. Maybe.]

[She almost tells him then, half out of pride and half an instinctive itch to just get the rest of the story out, but his nails are a sharp, crystal clear focus, and it drags her back to the more important bottom line:] Might have. Moral of the story is it's better than the entertainment you've got here in your ivory towers.

[And supporting her own weight means rutting up against him is a process that's entirely under her own control: slow and steady and with enough pressure that the buckle at her waist bites into him at the lowest point.]

Oh come on, you can't start a story like that and not finish.

[His weight presses into her's when she starts to move, but this dog isn't dragged off its t-bone quite so easily. He drags his nails down her back and burrows his face in her cleavage with a heavy sort of inhale--

The skin on skin contact gives him pause, and a shaky exhale. The mask was enhanced to act like a second skin, but science and engineering could only do so much. The sensation just reminds him that the mask isn't on, and its enough that he squints his eyes slightly against her.]

Did you strangle him to death, or did he bleed out first?

Bled out. Was doing fine till he started really struggling for air. [The hesitation's easy to spot. Probably not a good sign, but part of her still wonders if he's half-enjoying the feeling of cool air and warm skin. Breath and sweat and a lack of pressure from the looks of it.] Tore somethin' before I could stop him - real shame.

[Her eyes flick over towards the skyline behind him. Skyscrapers and sand. Ocean beyond that.] Fun while it lasted, though.

[None of the memories associated without the mask are good, and the lack of mask doesn't feel different enough to block them out. But to get at the mask, he has to put Nisha down -- something he knows won't be a task she'll approve of or necessarily cooperate with.

He keeps the image she's provided him with at the front of his mind as he pulls them off the wall. He gives her just one last bite where shirt meets skin before he pulls his hands away and tries to let her down. His intentions are clear, as he's turned to face the mask she had dropped.]

I wouldn't be opposed to a repeat showing.

[Nisha doesn't fight him on it (again, him getting his way isn't exactly uncommon or difficult) dropping her grip so her heels can find the floor before he's fully turned away. To a certain extent she gets it; has that thick collar over deep, deep scars that've long since tried (and failed) to heal entirely. So if he needs his security blanket, he can have it and she'll be happy for what few minutes without it she'd stolen without backlash.

That and bending over gives her a real A+ view of that ass.

Meaning that once he's done and working to secure the latches, Nisha unhooks the whip at her side, slipping behind him along the curve of his spine to wrap it neatly around his throat; the difference in height between them's so minimal she doesn't even have to strain to set her teeth to Jack's ear.] How close to the action do you want to be, sweetheart?

[The latches dont take long to secure -- its the way the cybernetics latch and seal to keep the illusion that it wasn't a mask at all that takes the longest. There's a loud snap of metal on metal in triplicate, but that's after the whip has found its way around his neck.

He's completely stiff under her teeth, but not entirely in a bad way. He was a paranoid man always guarding his own life and interests, true and true, but--well there's just something about the danger that gets the adrenaline flowing, that turns him on.

And she'd already started the job with her hips and lovely imagery. He manages to keep himself from laughing at his own joke, but barely.]

Not "barbed wire" close.

[He turns his head just slightly toward her, though his movement is restricted because of the teeth at his ear and the noose holding him in place.]

[The bite she leaves behind gets finished off with the slide of her tongue, grip shifted so the whip's held in place via her left arm and what corded leather of its tail is currently wrapped neatly around her wrist. It gives him room to breathe, but only just, and how much is a factor Nisha clearly plans on leaving more flexible than defined.] Not until I've perfected it, anyway.

[Her lips move to the base of his neck, voice a low whisper that pools against the collar of his coat.] On your knees, Hyperion.

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