albinomilksnake | OPEN RP PART II: ELECTRIC BOOGALOO

[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.

[Had it been anyone else who had said that to him, they'd be on the floor with a pair of busted kneecaps and possibly worse. Even Nisha gets a little bit of lip from him in the form of an 'OK I'll play along I guess' scoff.

The cord is tight, and it doesn't need to be much tighter to make his heart immediately start racing. He's strangled a fair share of people -- he knows how little effort it takes once you've got something around their neck. He's already half way down from having knelt to pick up his mask, so he simply completes the motion with both knees hard on the elevator's metal grate.

Its not comfy. He holds out his hands expectantly, making light as always (she would have to be a husk to not feel how hard his heart is pounding, how hot his skin has already gotten from nerves).]

Anything else, your highness?

[Yeah, she hasn't missed it-- any of it-- as the makeshift noose she's tied off around his neck slides into place along with him, catching on itself only slightly once he's settled down on his heels like a leash. One that's tied off on the elevator railing so that Nisha can step easily out into his office without having to bother dragging him along.

She drops her hat first. Jacket second. Back to him for all the slow, easy steps that it takes to find her way to the front of his desk.] Highness. Like the sound of that.

[The shirt comes off after she's turned to face him, small of her back set lazily against the edge of his desk, dark hair wild from the pull of fabric as it frames her face. He could pull himself loose if he wanted to now. Easily.]

Stay.

Yeah well, don't get used to it.

[He feels more like himself now that the mask is in place. When she gives that command, every inch if him wants to defy her -- she's probably expecting it. Or maybe she knows he'll react that way and is purposefully trying to goad the reaction out of him.

His head rubs circles around itself, which let's him sit there and stare with a slight furrow in his brow. She's all the way over there and she isn't touching him anymore.

This isn't fun.]

I thought you wanted to know how close I wanted to be near the action, Nisha. Close. Not far. You're literally across the room right now.

[Column A column B - is there really any difference? The buckle at her waist that sits low across her hipbones lets out a little metallic clink as she unlatches it, slides a few fingers down along the seam of her zipper to undo it right after with minimal effort. Boots off, holsters next, jeans right afterwards so that her contours are a sharp silhouette against stark, controlled daylight.]

Anticipation, Jack. It's typically a big deal for most people. [And just because you can have everything at the snap of a few fingers doesn't mean you should.]

I know what anticipation is. What the hell do you take me for, huh?

[Jack balls his fists in his lap, much like a pouting child who got told he couldn't have a cookie by his mother. That doesn't mean she doesn't have his attention though. His eyes are tracing what he can see from her silhouette and filling in the blanks with imagination when he can't.

Which is why his witty retort takes a second to deliver, straightening his shoulders from their half-hunched position.]

And I'm not most people.

If you were [She starts, leaning back on her palms and feeling out the frigid, mirror-glass surface.] I wouldn't be here.

[But it's the fact that in spite of all his protesting and huffing, he's still settle there with his knees to the floor, hands clenched, teeth set, whip lashed around the low point of his throat.

God, she loves it.

Handsome bastard set himself up in the seat of an empire, ready and capable of wiping the entire slate of Pandora clean, and he's there under her thumb waiting for permission to run wild. Who wouldn't want that kind of control? Devotion or loyalty or respect or pure admiration-- whatever you want to call it in any amount it's the facts that matter to her mind more than motivation: if he's not getting off to it, the moment's still not wasted.

She's sitting down now, hip raised just slightly to one side where her posture's more open. Accessible despite the fact that the line of her bare thigh's only limned with light.]

Come on, then.

[Jack doesn't scramble to his feet when he's given permission to rise. He carefully reaches for the whip around his neck, removing it in a slow and far too dignified manner. As he stands, he spends time unhooking it from the railing and rolling it back up neatly.

Nisha's features only become clear when he finally reaches the front of his office. By this point, he's found the handle of the whip and waits until he's generously in range to suddenly lash out with it toward one of her forearms. The idea of waiting until he was closer than he needed to be was to have the recoil tie a knot, so he could pull her toward him.

Whether he picked that up from watching Nisha or taught himself just in case...well, that was anyone's guess. Either way, he looks pretty pleased when he does it.]

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