Open RP: Smutty nonsense

[avali]

 DIRTY THINGS GO HERE

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-Deposit prompt and/ or character.

-Receive terrible things in return!  

  


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Muselist

Open RP (non-smutty version)

Comments

no no it's fine :3 i'd been writing in past before tagging and didn't even top to think. braiiiinz

[neverfirst]

Sucking in a breath at her touch - it shouldn't feel like he's been hit by a truck. Or maybe that's the injuries from the grenade - he swallows a groan. It's not like she hasn't touched him before. She's touched him loads of times. But this is different. Maybe it's his intent. Maybe it's because they're in an ancient ruin surrounded by crazy natives that want to kill them.

"If you're screwing with me, Chloe," he grits out, shifting into her space and crowding her with his body. He'd like it if she'd just be biddable (that's not true at all; he's just not the type to be honest with himself) and throw herself into his arms with a happy cry. But no. Not Chloe. Never Chloe.

[totallytrustworthy]

Her thumb slips under the sleeve of his jacket, brushes across delicate skin with enough care that he might as well be made of glass. Or at least the civility of this conversation is, and one wrong move could shatter that easily.

She is screwing with him. It's either that or bare her teeth and pray to god he's not livid enough to forget whatever selfish attraction he has (not bloody likely) and keep his finger from tugging back on that trigger.

"Christ, Harry. You can't tell me you'd rather stay here and get yourself torn apart by Lazarevic-- or worse." There's a pressure point nestled down between the fine bones of his wrist. Chloe hones in on it without applying force. Skirts the pad of her finger over it in light, lazy circles. "Forget About Nate for once."

[neverfirst]

Of all the things she could say in that moment, "Forget about Nate" is probably the worst.

With a snarl, Harry shoves her against the wall. He doesn't care that the stones might cut her or scrape her through her shirt, doesn't care that Lazarevic's henchmen and the strange monkey people somewhere behind them. It's another world out there, and one he simply couldn't care less about.

His mouth covered hers in a brutal facsimile of a kiss. There was nothing gentle or seductive or plying about it, just his hard lips on hers making demands of her mouth, her body. His fingers slackened on the gun, and his other hand grabbed at her shoulder, not quite shaking free of her hold as he held her to the wall, pinned between it and his body. His teeth scraped over her lower lip, bit down and held for a second. His tongue swept over the bite to inflame instead of soothe. Pressing closer to her, he shoved his thigh between her legs, forcing her to all but plaster herself to the wall.

[totallytrustworthy]

It was, admittedly, a gamble. Unstable as he is by now, she shouldn't be so surprised to feel the sharp dig of stone in her back, of his teeth cutting into her lip enough to taste bitterness on her tongue. It's the press of his leg between her thighs-- hard and sudden enough to spark a jolt of sensation low, low in her belly-- that also sparks the urge to abandon diplomacy and go right for his throat instead.

Gun be damned, he's going to remember exactly why Chloe Frazer isn't meant to be taken lightly.

A point she makes by bearing down on those weak wrist bones with the pad of her thumb.