albinomilksnake | OPEN RP PART II: ELECTRIC BOOGALOO

Easy there, cowboy. [The edge of her boot shifts against the heap to keep an even line to the curve of her lap where he's (now) resettled. Voice low, free hand still petting him to keep him down and content.]

Normally I'd say focus on the pain but seeing as how I'm still pissed off about all this, doesn't really seem appropriate.

[Her other hand skids low, tugging the edge of his shirt back down into place at his hip.]

Good, stay pissed off and maybe I'll let you kill him first so long as I get the first shot.

[He's never let an injury stop him from going after Nisha before, but usually, she's the one inflicting them. His pride stings like he's been hit, an settling down feels like letting that stupid bandit win.

So he continues to stubbornly try and sit up, even after she's grabbed his shirt to move it where it belongs.]

That's a big maybe.

[Back when she was his hired gun it wasn't really her place to stop him (didn't want to anyway so long as it meant she still got paid) but these days it's all a little more personal than paychecks, and he's one hell of a lot more banged-up regardless.

The hand that was at his hip settles heavy across the unburned center of his chest, pressing down with insistent leverage that translates to a very, very effective pin.] Damn right about that.

At this rate the only person you're gonna shoot is yourself. Probably in the foot.

[He exhales heavily when she puts pressure on his chest and struggles just enough for his arm to hurt again. His skin heats up out of reflex.]

Oh come on! I can't just lay here--

[He can't really move as well with her pinning him, so he shoves his head back into her stomach in retaliation.]

[The only thing that headbutt wins him is a derisive snort, her clawed fingertips curling up to scratch gently at his chest, which is, admittedly, kind of dickish given that she's adding insult to pinned down injury.] Fine. I like to think I'm not unreasonable.

You want up, you earn it. [Odds are if he can't shove her off he won't stand a chance in round II against what'd literally just hit him, after all.] Get yourself loose and you can do whatever you want to the sorry bastards-- I'll even cheer you on while you do it.

Screw up, and it's time to start counting sheep.

[The scratch makes him stiffen in anticipation, and Jack's face goes a bit deadpan. They both know he can't push her off if he has an injured arm. But if she's going to set him up with impossible odds, then he's not about to try and play fair.

So his skin starts to heat up even more, the tattoo glows blue (not purple this time -- he hadnt fed enough for that), and his yellow skin reddens violently where it is hottest.

Getting Nisha to give into pain wouldn't be easy, but its his only option.]

Aw. [She watches him go through the mental motions, waiting for that inevitable burn that starts to worm its way through the bindings on her fingers down into scalded skin. When it hits, she's ready: inhales only once post-cooing at him, grin widening by literal degrees.] Look at you.

Big, bad top dog takin' me down a peg.

Better watch it. You know better, buttercup.

[Jack keeps himself heated and broadens his own grin to reveal his hideously sharp teeth. He can't help but notice that her hand hasn't moved, so he keeps himself heated, moving the tattooed hand up to her face. He's mindful not to press his hand fully, but drags sharp nails across her jawline to remind her of exactly who she's messing with.]

As much as I love the view.

[He tries to lean up and snaps his teeth tauntingly just under the swell of her breasts.]

[The muscles of her jaw cinch under the scrape of his nails, an involuntary shiver working its way up her spine, gold eyes sparking with interest. He's cheating. He's cheating and he knows it, and admittedly it's not a bad tactic to take.

Shame it won't work on the monsters he's planning on tracking down if she decides to let him slide.

So she catches his fingers in her teeth, running the hand that was at the center of his chest up to his throat instead, bearing down enough to mean that any struggling or straining will have him choking himself out.] Mmm...so do I, apparently.

Give it up, Jack - make this easy on yourself.

[The hand around his neck predictably makes him stiffen. Instinctively, he tries to sit up against it and feels her squeeze, which just encourages a strangled noise of displeasure. His fingers curl in her teeth, torn between frustration and amusement.

The red color bleeds out of him slightly, but he keeps his hands heated in between her teeth.]

Nishaaaaa--

[Its slightly strangled, but he still wants up. Until she releases his neck, he can't continue his original plan. of action.]

[The temperature shift-- gradual as it is given the hardened edge of her teeth-- is enough to at least convince her to ease her mouth away from his fingertips, angry red still marking the edge of her jaw.

But her grip stays fast, even as her thumb smooths over an adrenaline-pressed vein in his neck the way someone might pet a frightened animal. Much as she might be coaxing him back towards contentment, behind that motive Nisha's entertaining the idea of just putting him under now and saving them both the trouble.

It's less fun, but given that he's far from top shape, there's not that much fun to be pulled from this from the get-go: an eventuality that's getting closer with every passing second.]

Speak up, Handsome. Can't hear you. [Every bit as much a jab as it sounds.]

Ok, that's enough. Up. Up!

[She's quite lucky he hasn't managed to figure out the rest of the elements yet. As it stands, Jack is getting frustrated, and its becoming less of a game by the second.

Ok, so maybe he can't go and set the jerkasses on fire right this second but he refuses to be treated like a cripple--

At least until she starts massaging the vein she's found, which immediately makes him dizzy and relaxes him in her lap for the time being. But if he knows one thing about Nisha its that she's not a homebody or a caregiver. The pampering never lasts long.]

God damn it.

[Definitely neither, though his frustrated surrender means she's easing off the thought of choking him out. 'Easing' being the key word. The slide of Nisha's thumb slowing as her hold on him goes light.]

You done?

[Jack answers Nisha with a defeated grunt, going completely limp in her lap.]

That depends. Are you? God, you don't let me have anything.

Thankless work bein' a tyrant. [Her free hand slinks back down to his scalp, thumb sinking lower underneath the edge of his collar - nothing salacious about it.] Thankless, hard work.

You know the drill.

[Still, rough as she is, rewarding good behavior's all part of the fun. Loving the feeling of a jolt of pain doesn't mean that like anything else it doesn't get old if it's all a constant. Suspense, tension, climax-- satisfaction: has to work hand-in-hand.]

Uh-uh.

[The reply is incredibly petulant, and his uninjured arm is swung over to lay across his own eyes. As far as he's concerned, this is an injustice.]

Tell you what. You have my permission to thank the hell out of me, OK?

[And she laughs at that, all genuine amusement as the scratching at his scalp goes sharp behind an ear, right where it'll do its magic on a particularly sensitive nerve. Handsome Jack never was one to skimp on the self-gratitude front.

She just also doesn't expect him to go easy on the martyrdom front when things get hard, either.] You saying I don't already?

[He goes sharp in her lap and makes a groaning noise when then tension aggitates his arm. Jack's face stays pressed against her stomach as he inhales to fight the sensation. If she keeps up that pressure, he'll pass out in short order.]

You can never thank me enough. Don't forget that.

Jack? [Her head tilts, shadowing him while her fingers ride down along the base of his neck. The hand at his chest is entirely still where it'd been left.]

What.

[Its said into her stomach and the fabric of her shirt. Its the only way he's willing to admit defeat. He's still tense, but whether that's a result of her or its because he's still upset, its impossible to tell.]

[It's the hand she's kept at his neck that makes bracing him easy, giving her enough room to dip down and set her mouth to the base of his throat where he's curled against her (a kiss that's all easy affection despite his hemming and hawing) nose scuffing across delicate skin as an afterthought. A nod from one feral creature to another that signifies a certain fondness beyond the familiar.

When she finally speaks up, it's muttered against the muscle of his neck:] Shut the hell up.

[Whether its the kiss, the scuff, or the comment that gets Jack to lift his face out of her stomach and fix her with the absolute most unimpressed stare ever is hard to say. But it sticks there for a few long moments before he complies and turns his head again to rest. He might even smile for just a brief moment because god damn she's hot when she tries to order him around.

He'll plan the kitten cookout later.]

OPEN RP PART II: ELECTRIC BOOGALOO

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject