Post by JR on Nov 5, 2015 3:36:24 GMT -8
Characters: Huck & Freya
Summary: Meeting for tea after a busy day apart, Freya fesses up to Huck on what she'd discovered upon meeting Derrick and getting a taste of something that was far too like Huck to ignore. Distractions and confusion ensue, along with high emotions that lead them from a quaint cafe to home. Or almost home, before trouble finds our couple again.
Triggers: A little language, sexual references.
when you're on top of the world .. then it just smacks you in the face.
Freya: How many days had it been since Huck had pulled her to his chest, both of them panting from the way they'd exploded together, nestled into the couch that had become the scene of a crime? They blended together for Freya, one by one, until she stopped trying to remember. It was Wednesday, wasn't it? Freya had a morning class, and decided she should probably go. She'd been missing several lately, and it was more than likely in her best interest. She was a student of the university, after all, even if she truly didn't give a rat's ass about her education. She never had really. She'd wanted to enroll at Auburn with an art history major, but her father had vetoed the idea without giving it any thought. He'd picked for her ( since he was footing the bill ) and even when she'd transferred to Sheperd -- under the assumption she'd be kicked out of Auburn if she didn't leave -- it'd been out of her hands. Who the hell cared about philosophy? Socrates could kiss her ass, truthfully. She just wanted to surround herself in beautiful things created by beautiful minds ( hello, huckleberry ) and call it a day. Which is why Wednesday was so important really. That morning class was over at ten, but it wasn't until closer to three in the afternoon that Freya sent a message to Huck to see if he'd meet her at a little cafe she'd found in the neighborhood known as Battersea, surrounding a big park close to the Thames. It wasn't too far from the South Bank where they both lived, and she arrived before he did. He'd find her in there, if he came, seated at a little two person wrought iron table at the front window in the cafe that looked as if it'd been pulled from the pages of a chic, vintage Parisian magazine. She had tea, in a wide and deep round cup, and a big fat fluffy beignet on a plate beside the elbow she had against the edge of the table. Seated with her back to the window for the most part, one leg draped over the other. The dark haired Alu-fiend had changed too, from the simple jeans and tee shirt she'd thrown on for class that morning when they'd left together. A complete change, too. All black, a neutral tone she knew accentuated her appeal in tenfolds; a sweater that fit like a glove up top, molding the plump of small breasts and fitting tight about her torso and long in the sleeves. It was tucked into a short pleated skirt that sat at her natural waist rather than her hips. Opaque tights bled down lengthy stems, and into ankle booties of a inky suede. Dark hair had been plaited into a thick and messily trendy braid that lay over the shoulder that carried it's mark; tendrils blocking the full scar where it peeked from the sweater at her throat from full view, while thicker locks were side swept to frame the loveliness of her round freckled face. Red was heavy at her generous mouth, and she'd done something cat eye and sooty at her eyes to make the silvery-blue of them pop. Speaking of magazines, she had one open on the table, idly thumbing through it while she waited, though often checking her phone to see if he'd texted. You know, that age old adage -- if you keep looking, it's never there. -d-
Huck: Things were different now. Better. And worse. The monumental event that took place leaving no doubt in the necromancer's mind that Tom had to go, that this wasn't working. Of course Tom denied any wrong-doing, claimed Freya had pretty much begged him to do it. She was setting him up. Splitting them apart.The ghost got angry, and then the ghost disappeared. And that was all good. For the better. But, it was only a few hours after Tom's disappearance that things had started to go back to the way they were before Tom. The ghost-magnet no longer muffled by the presence of the orange-haired wanker, and those lost-souls found the beacon that was Huck. Visits had become more frequent and more awkward, and the more he ignored the spirits the more volatile they became. Still, it was a hell he would endure, not only for his half-demon, but for himself. He could sleep when he was dead. Did ghosts sleep? Be there in ten. Message she'd catch at some point, and around twelve minutes later he was rounding the corner and wandering to the establishment she invited him to. Dark gray wool coat was worn since there was a bit of a chill in the air, and a pair of blue jeans (not the holey kind tonight, too cold). Hands were tucked into pockets of that coat and blonde hair looked a bit darker, it was still damp from the recent shower, and was slicked back only a couple of grouped strands of it hanging across pale face. Blue eyes scraping over dead-eyed faces, the drowned souls, staring out from beneath the black looking waters. White faces glowing through murky waters. Hand rose up to block the sun briefly, tilting chin towards the place where Freya sat. He checked both ways and then held his palm out to a cabbie that was already slowing to a stop and jogged his way across the road, slowing once he hit the sidewalk again and moved to join her. "Hey..." He tipped his chin and took a step towards her, hand reaching out to her scarred shoulder where hair was tactically placed. He slid thumb into the dark brown, and bent body low, pressing a kiss to her cheek before taking a seat across from her. "How are you feeling?" Concern etched on his face and laced in his voice as gray coat split some. Underneath an olive-green shirt made from some flimsy and thin material, it had only three buttons at the top and all were undone, spread and open to show the hollow of his throat and smoothness of chest. <done>
Freya: Ah-ha. There he was. Texted in a moment that she wasn't looking. Teeth scraped across the plump of her bottom lip, and Freya felt herself relax -- though she wasn't quite sure when she'd worked herself into the tension that felt too rigid between her shoulders. But it eased now, with the message, and Freya sat back some from the stiff way she'd been holding herself, and eased her cup of tea to her lips. Twelve minutes later, we'll call it women's intuition but it was probably something far more powerful than that, her head came up from the article she had lost her attention to, and the perfection of her face lifted and aimed his way, just as he was crossing the street. She watched, memorizing the way he moved; the hand that was lifted to the cabbie, the steps that he took, the look on his face. That very moment, and later she'd wonder how her heart didn't just fall from her chest and roll across the floor of the cafe to meet him with a little flag that said ``I'M YOURS!`` As it was, the organ inside her was a rapid fire of beats, enough that she lay her hand against the fluttering thing as he came closer and she could actually pick up the sound of his, could actually smell the blood rushing in his veins, and the scents that lingered on his skin that made him Huck. She straightened her posture as he came close; angling her visage up to his when he bent and gave it a subtle turn so that when his kiss landed on her cheek it caught the corner of her mouth as well. Freya closed the magazine, dropping it casually into the tote bag that sat on the floor next to her chair and the wall, and folded her hands together some with the way she leaned in and rested the tips of her elbows on the edge of the table. Tangled fingers came up, and made a stand for her chin. His question came, and so did the single waitress in the small place, wondering if she could get him something to drink, or eat. Frey had dropped her lips to speak, but went quiet until the waitress was gone and Huck had ordered, but then her mouth curved into a smile once they were alone again. "I'm fine, really, I am." A shift, just a small one, of the way she was angled beneath the table, and the inside of her ankle brushed it's way in an northern path along the outside of his calf. "And you? How's your day fared?" She knew Tom had left him, but had he told her that the disappearance had only opened the door for so many others? -d-
Huck: Most likely not. Huck wasn't one to burden people with his own issues, even when he knew they'd be willing. And lack of sleep wasn't anything new to him, painting eyelids with a deeper tint and painting darkened circles around eyes. Smile was soft that he gave her, one corner of his mouth riding up while waitress swung on by. " 'Ello there. Take a coffee black, thanks." Smile was genuine when it was given to the waitress, and then drew it to Freya taking the time now to respond to her question. "... it's been alright." He didn't have that same supernatural warmness that the demoness had, no, he was all too human and although it wasn't bitter cold, he knew it'd be a little uncomfortable outside of the coat. So he left it on. He shifted body forward and pressed elbows to the table, blues left to observe the freckled beauty's face set on the pedestal of her palm. And that's when he felt the drift of her limb, it made his stomach tighten and his throat dry. Even the most simple of touch provided from her, the most minor show of intimate affection immediately taking a biological affect on him. And brought him his own generated warmth. NOT THAT HE NEEDED IT CUZ IT WAS WARM INSIDE. Coat was wormed out of, right shoulder then left, and arms in unison slipping free. Good thing he didn't get stuck that way, he would've looked a fool. Huck tilting his body in the chair while decorating the back of it with the gray wool, speaking as he did so.. "I woke up earlier than I wanted." To some old women with a cut open throat and drooling ghost blood everywhere while she tried to say something. Took him a few minutes to send her off on her merry way, and after that he hadn't been able to fall back. He crinkled nose and tilted blues from that pristine beauty. "Your day... How was your day?" Brows lifted a little and head tilted, but his perusal of her interfered with when waitress arrived with his drink. <done>
Freya: Just alright. The sin-red of her mouth took on the softness of a pout, and the slope of her nose even scrunched a little bit. He looked too tired, and even as she thought it, he was making mention of his early morning. "Maybe we should get out of here, then. Go find one of our beds and curl up and not leave again until we absolutely have to." Escape. A thing that was very much not like her, but if it meant a moment of quiet, meant a sliver of peace for the both of them, she'd escape the world ten-fold with him. His question came, bringing the waitress who had impeccable timing, back to the table with his coffee and a smile, and one of Freya's shoulders rose up in answer -- but the words came when they were alone once more. "Nothing special. Class, when I left you. Philosophy of Mind," a little chuff escaped on a breath, and her fingers unfolded amongst themselves so she could pick up her tea again and take a slow sip; eyeing him over the white porcelain of the cup with a heady stare, until she swallowed, and let the cup cradle within her fingers. "Ironically, why the mind allows our bodies to behave in certain ways, how sometimes we have no control." That same half-laugh sound came back, but it sounded even bitter to her own ears, and Freya took another sip. "Oh, and I got a job," she tossed in there; setting the cup down gently, and laying both her arms flat down on the table, so that she could touch him. Her fingers were itching to touch him, especially now that he'd finally ditched the coat and she could feel the warmth of his skin through the thin fabric of his olive green sleeves. Her own heat simmered on a track down the sides of his forearms, until she could get her touch onto his skin; slipping fingertips beneath his sleeves at his wrists. Or one, if that's all he had close enough. -d-
Huck: That smile grew in size when she said they could escape. Voice left for Freya while eyes gingerly rose to the waitress till she retreated, and then returned heavy lidded gaze to his girl. "We can stay for a bit, babe. I don't want to be that lazy boyfriend who never goes out." Although it wasn't really about laziness, moreso just being worn down to a nub. Coffee was claimed and he lifted it with his left hand, right hand still on the table when she stretched for him and spoke more. He blew on the top of the in between words. "No control... huh?" He blew. The terms she spoke about probably didn't apply to him, or a different type of... 'no control' than being possessed by a ghost. "Oh, a job? What kind of job, love?" And then she was slipping beyond the loose hang of sleeve and drawing nails on his skin. He tilted face some to peruse the travel of nails and again he felt that fluttered in his chest. Felt his stomach twist and breath catch a little before being released in a sigh. Tips of his own fingers returning the idle touch, edges of his fingers given a caress to her thin wrist. lengths of fingers gliding up, down, and rolling in circles against silk skin. He could feel her pulse on his fingers. The steady rhythm and he touched tongue to the inside of his lip to match its beat. That is until he finally took that sip of coffee he held in front of his mouth. One sip. He blew on it again, and took a second sip. Mug set back down and then hand rising up to comb through the dishwater blonde. Slightly moist fingers dropping to his thigh to dry off on the denim. <done>
Freya: "You could never be that," the pressure of her nails on his skin dug in a little with the little bit of chiding in her voice -- after all, hadn't it been Huck who'd invited her to the beach that one night? Huck who'd set up the date they'd not been able to go on? The attempt totally counted. They didn't just lay about all day and night, and Freya found that if they did, she'd be a content fat cat about it. "Mhm. No control. Our minds trick us, like we do have it. Like we can really stop ourselves from doing certain things. Especially of a moral grey area. Taking money you find, because no one is there to see you do it. Eating that third, or fourth donut. Cutting someone off in traffic. Little things that seem harmless, but you don't really know the damage you might do." Raven's brows furrowed closer together a little, but the moment he began to glide calloused fingers along where her skin was so thin above the blue veins in her wrist, she cast him with the beguile of a soft smile coating across her lips "There's an art gallery, just 'round the corner. A bit like the one we met in. They needed some help coordinating openings, and making sales, that sort of thing. It's only part time, a few nights a week." She decided then, that he was too far away, so she made a bit of a show in scooting herself that much closer to the table, until the edge of it was against the flat of her torso. A heeled foot slipping between his jeaned knees and finding a place tangled between his calves. Her brows did that furrow thing again, and she watched him sip his coffee; making sure it was away from his lips when she spoke again. "I might have done something like that. In the moral grey area." -d-
Huck: The woman had a knack for making him smile, it was probably one of the reasons he enjoyed her company so much. She made him feel good in a world that always made him feel like shit. The weird and odd glances, the loneliness. It was a different environment altogether when he was with Freya, he didn't even notice the dark-skinned man with a gaping hole in his chest that stood outside the window staring at the back of his head. Sure, if he had been focusing he could've noticed the presence of the dead, but the subtle curl of nails and drift of her foot between his baby cows had him all centered on her. "Like... people following just natural instinctive greed, instead of reflecting on their actions, sort of?" That was pretty much the difference between Tom and Huck. A massive divide. Tom always doing what he wanted when he wanted without much thought, where Huck was often paralyzed by indecision and concern of what would happen because of his actions. Truth of the matter was that as much as he hated Tom, Huck may have squandered that first opportunity with Freya without him. That thought alone made him a little sick to his stomach, but he didn't let his mind go there for too long. How could it anyway with this alluring creature right across from him. He let hand raise up and out stroke of fingertips coming down the braid she still had resting on her shoulder. Curl of fingers gliding down silken rope, all the way till he met shoulder and shooed it aside. "Oh? Did you cheat on a test at school or something? I'm sure it'll be alright." Said while eyes lifted to meet hers briefly and then slide to shoulder, bit of hair slipped aside so thumb could caress the indentation of cross branded into her skin. <done>
Freya: "Very much like that," she nodded with the words, and dragged her fingers from the inside of his shirt, to trace along his palm. Riding and tracing the lines of his life -- heart, head, fate, and life. A slow exploration of the inside of his hand, while he did the same with the thickness of her braid and reassured her of how something he didn't even know about would be. "No, no, it wasn't anything like that." Of it's own accord, the dark of her crown gave an avian tilt, exposing more of her neck for his touch. She didn't even like touching the violent mark that her brother's double had left, but him? It only soothed and cooled the spot that seemed to still be more hot than anywhere else on her body. "Do you remember the other night," here, rain-cloud eyes dropped from the clear blues of his at the mention of that night in particular -- but it was only but a moment before they flew back to his again, "when we were at Joes? We met that guy, Derrick, right? You fell asleep, and Mira ditched almost immediately after that. I felt bad for the guy, that she'd brought him over and then left him, so .. I dunno, I tried to strike up conversation, but there was another reason behind it." Warm touch glided up the length of each one of his, five on five, from palm to tip, and then back down again, and Freya wet her lips a little before continuing on. "When he came in to the coffee house, before he'd even sat down with us he .. he smelled familiar. At first I couldn't place it, but then he sat with us, and it hit me. He smelled like you. Not your soap, or your washing, or anything like that, not anything you put on you -- but you. It was faint, though. Enough to make me curious. And I .. completely and totally flirted with him, until I could get him to touch me, so I could .. " Her nose scrunched. It was weird to talk about the schematics of how she succubused. "Sample. It was stronger there, in his taste, even the little nibble I took. But he was a cocky shit, so I did one of these." She did the same she'd done to Derrick at Joe's -- hit Huck with a surge of heat where their fingers touched that he'd feel straight in the groin; a pure shot of sex, that came complete with images of Freya in ways he already knew her; naked, spread against sheets, and arching in pleasured abandon written within the divine of her face. -d-
Huck: Blues remained big while he listened to her intently, using other hand to lift his coffee for another sip and setting it down when she asked a question. "Uh... a little, I.. was.. The bathroom extravaganza took whatever juice I had left though, I was pretty out of it." He remembered seeing somebody, saying hi, and then it was all foggy from there. Warm and cozy, curled up next to the succubus. She went on and nose again wiggled, tip of finger lifting to scratch at the crease of his nose. He wasn't sure what it was, maybe a pang of jealousy? He couldn't really place it, but it made his brow furrow a little and then unfurrow when she called him a cocky shit. Good. Don't like other people. Egh. That wasn't an appropriate response, Huck. He chided himself silently for feelings things that he had no control over, just like they talked about, but slightly different. "One of theeeeeese...? Mmm." Lips pursed firmly together and nostrils widened only slightly while he physically sat up more in his chair, chest expanding with the long drawn in breath. Eyelids fell shut and jean clad ass circled in his seat as blood rushed to fill the sleeping prick, and his skin flushing pink. Wait, wait. His train of thought was going in the wrong direction, what was she getting at... why would someone smell like him. Or taste like him.. or.. Ugh. "... Ah... mm.. is he like... bothering you now or something..? Like.. returning the flirting.. or something..." Wait, was that the train of thought? No. He was wondering why he would taste the same, but it was a little hard to focus. Lust poured in and left to simmer in his bones, or his bone, and throat gone way of the Sahara. Blues were re-opened and he sent gaze to her again, but flinched immediately when that dark-skinned ghost was now hovering behind Freya and staring at him. "Fuck." Face turned down into the black of his coffee and he raised it up for a hard hit, long sip taken and gaze sifting back to Freya and shifting over her shoulder, and then back to her. <done>
Freya: Way to make Freya into a cocky shit too. Mention of wearing him out in the bathroom pulled a grin across her cardinal sin mouth, one of those slow wicked ones, and she even gave a throaty laugh -- but said nothing, not even when the little shot she gave him of her power had him squirming in his seat. She could scent the arousal on him, and it flared her own nostrils and sent her nerves to fraying a little. Freya glanced over at the waitress, busy flirting with another patron of the cafe two tables away, but her attention returned to Huckleberry when he spoke up, his voice thick with the way she affected him. Shouldn't he be used to it by now? She hoped he never was. "No, no baby, nothing like that. It was just a little puzzling, y'know?" Pulsating touch ran currents up his arm with the way she swirled her fingers in the middle of his palm, but then Frey took the touch from him all together to pick up her tea again and take it's final sip; vision lifting back up to the waitress again, who was finally making her way back over. She missed the first glance he took over her shoulder, but that single expletive would shift Freya's attention back to him, a brow lifting curiously in the brief look, and it was back to the girl. "Maybe just the check?," she sent her a warm smile that was painfully obvious to anyone who knew her well it was forced as can be. The second she'd passed by though, Frey was leaning in over the table some. "He's not here is he?," her voice came out in a hushed rush, it's tone taking on an edge she didn't recognize. Panic, maybe. Anger, definitely. -d-
Huck: Again she sent waves of pulsing horniness through his body, that made his prick throb and stomach tighten and body ache. And then took it away. Well, not entirely, but the root of it. The constant thrumming stolen and left to ride the wave of heat that burned him at his core and stretched through his limbs. That combined with the spark of expected surprise left him with a hand coming to his face. "No, no, it's not him.. he's not.. around.. Hasn't been.. since... we spoke. I.. Yeah.. Check.. works though. I have to get some air... I'll meet you out there, yeah?" Paper money that was more than enough to cover his coffee was plucked from his pocket and he dropped it to the table. He didn't even give her much time to respond, but he really didn't want to give cornered indoors with a heartless spirit. It was obvious the guy had been speared in the chest with something, ribs protruding and blood leaking down the front of his shirt. He grabbed his coat, but didn't even put it on, just tucked it on his arm as he went right for the door and headed on outside. Sharp burst of wind made nipples hard and goosebumps race up in his limbs, head tilting a bit to figure out if the dead thing was giving chase. It wasn't. Still standing behind Freya and following Huck with dark brown eyes. "Fuck off." He said with only nearby passing pedestrians to accept the words and receiving a scolding look. "Not.. you... sorry." He just shook his head a little and frowned, stuffing fingers into the jeans' pockets, thumbs sticking out to sift along the leather of his belt. Head tilting again to put eyes and let light smile, somewhat forced, crawl on his face. "Sorry about that, just.. been seeing more dead people than usual lately. Lead the way." He shivered again, but didn't even bother putting coat on, instead he stuck elbow out for her to hook onto and pull them wherever she wanted to go next. <done>
Freya: It was cold behind her back, but Freya didn't look -- she already knew there'd be nothing to see, so what did it matter? He needed some air, and automatically she knew it was nothing she'd done to him. Not with that look on his face, or that chill behind her. His money was tossed, and the moment his back was to her, she picked it up -- slipping out a credit card from her purse instead. She'd invited him to tea, she'd pay for it. It took the waitress no time to run the card, but in the interim Freya did exactly what she hadn't done a moment ago. Stole a glance over her shoulder to see if maybe just maybe she could see what was back there, where the cold still lingered like a fog. Nothing. With her card returned, Freya was joining him quickly, her favored burgundy wool coat fitting around her body, with it's wide cowl collar tucked 'round her neck some. It was rather chilly out, even for the Alu-fiend. "No, no, don't apologize. I understand." At least she thought she did. Slipping her arm through his, she tucked against it and turned them towards the trains that would take them back to South Bank. "How much more is more?" Her other arm crossed over the front of her body, like she was trying to find warmth for her hand against his side, but it was more or less a way for her to slyly tuck his cash back into whatever pocket she could find. So much closer to his height in the stiletto heels of her boots, Freya kept close to him while they moved through the pedestrians that lined the sidewalks of this up and coming neighborhood already thick with the arts and culture that brought the people here. "Who was behind me?" -d-
Huck: Huck was thoroughly distracted with the bitter bite of November and the pretty girl on his arm to realize her wile, and leaned into the touch of hand at his side. Hand that was in his pocket, slid out, finding her hip and sliding around the small of her back until he gripped the other side of her body. Part of his hand on the shirt, part of his hand on the skirt, fitting middle finger right where the two materials met. "Uh, I don't know. Just.. more often. It's usually sporadic, maybe it has something to do with Halloween and all that.. I don't know. I was a bad student." There probably was some sort of pattern or reason as to what was happening, but he didn't know any experts to ask. Well, he did. He just... didn't. Not unless he really, really had to. Huck could suck it up. And, he was also slightly concerned that it could have been the absence of Tom that was making it easier for the ghosts to find him. And allowing him to return, accepting his presence even for his own benefit was not something he was willing to do. "I.. don't know. Tom is, was, the only dead person that I knew... who they were. I usually don't... ask.. it always gets weird. And, violent sometimes once you start paying them mind, and not really doing what they ask.." He explained more than he had before, but it wasn't anything like 'real' information. Just his experience, the way he saw it, and that was all that he went off of. He was supernatural 'street smart' not 'book smart'. Actually he wasn't even really street smart, he was pretty ignorant to most of how everything worked, and he preferred it that way. He tilted again and buried his face into those dark lengths, took in her scent. He could breathe her in forever. They continued to walk and he left his face planted into those locks, almost nuzzling his cheek in against the side of her head, and then tilting his cheek to the top of her head. "... you are the only thing that is good in my life, the only thing that I've ever truly cherished. I cherish every moment with you, hon, because every moment with you is bliss. You make me feel whole, and I don't think I've ever felt that way. I've always felt... lost.. and.. broken. Like I didn't know why... I was even here... And then... you..." He spoke quietly, mumbled the words in a shiver that crept along his spine and into his shoulders. Trusting her guidance to not walk him into anything, as he blindly stepped alongside her. Still lost with face pressed into her hair. <done>
Freya: The touch of his fingers against her skin sent little dashes of anticipation skipping across her senses, and Freya pressed even closer to him; watching their path, and him, all at the same time while he answered her questions. "Violent? Can they hurt you without a body?" The question felt thick on her tongue, but she refused to let herself think about the damages that had been done when a ghost did have a body. His body. Her body. But then she forgot she'd even asked, when Huck was suddenly filling his lungs with the scent of the flowers she constantly smelled like to him, spilling confessions that had everything to do with her against her skin, into her ear so softly in a way that she felt just as much as she heard. Walking? How was she supposed to even do that now? "Huck," burst from her lips just as quiet as his words, meant for him alone, despite the people passing by. Heels scraped on the concrete with the way she stopped; and Freya turned her body into his, stepping so much closer and with a sweep of her hand up his chest and to his jaw, she pushed his face up out of inky locks and fit her mouth to his. Up onto her toes she went, so she could fit that much better against him. Her free arm hooked 'round his neck, and the one heavy with her purse in the pit of her elbow came up and fisted it's fingers into the green of his shirt. Holding him close, and kissing him deeper while the crowd parted around them now that they've stopped in the middle of the sidewalk -- and then around the one foot of hers that popped up, all romantic movie like. -d-
Huck: Flood of faces wandered past, but they went unseen. Even when they made snide remarks or grumbled, he was too involved. Too consumed. He fucking loved her with every fiber of his being, and every nerve seemed to burn hot for her. Mouth smeared hard against hers, tongue delving through the portal of parted slivers and a hand was on her arse. Skirt was curled into and ass felt, clenching cheek and pressing that hardened shaft trapped in jeans right against her thigh. He moaned, deep, into her mouth and closed slivers around her lower petal, offering a soft suckle. The soft connection held firmer by their spit, an almost silent sound made when they parted and pulled just enough so they shared the same air. "I'll never let anything bad happen to you again because of me, never... Never." It was still eating him up inside, what he let happen. What happened.. It was his fault. Even as he blamed himself, she was right. He wasn't going to let that orange-headed fuck drive a wedge between them, never. He would never allow that. A hand was up and stroking her cheek, freckles smoothed over by the grit of thumb. He peppered her face with a few butterfly strokes of his mouth, fluttering on her mouth. He crushed her, pulled her, made her fit all snug and tight up against the front of him. Not even paying much mind to his coat that fell from the loop of his arm, it was fine there trapped between the press of their legs. <done>
Freya: Nobody else mattered, not the people who swept by too closely and threatened to displace our Fruckleberries in their heated embrace, or the asshole who tripped over her foot and told her them to get a room. Frey didn't even notice. Nothing existed, except Huck Dyer. A moan broke from her throat and into his mouth when his hand made it's purchase at the swell of her rump and he hauled her that much more firmly against his arousal. That moan met his, an octave higher than his baritone, and Freya shivered when he caught her lip and lashes slowly lifted, watching his face as he drank from her lip. Watched his beautiful mouth move for the hushed words that it leaked. And Frey went still, just staring at him. Letting him touch his fill, let him pull her closer in his zeal, and her hand unfurled from the way she gripped his shirt. Drawing up along his throat and to his smooth face. The pads of her fingers drifted along his lips, and she shook her head at him, air expelling audibly from her lungs. "Don't. It wasn't because of you. It was to you. He hurt me to hurt you. And neither of us will let that happen again." Her thumb drifted along his lower lip, pushed slightly in and then swept along the top formation; silverset blues dropping to watch the procession. "Take me home, Huckleberry. I need your skin against mine." -d-
Huck: Don't. It wasn't because of you. She could tell him that all she wanted, but there was no getting around the fact that he was to blame. If he wasn't so infatuated. If he wasn't so in love. If he hadn't been a part of her life, that would never have had happened. He knew Tom was risky business, knew that he had a wild side, and he kept her in danger's path. Still, he wouldn't argue. Not about that. It wasn't worth the time. Or energy. He'd take the blame, she'd relieve some of it, and he'd know that she loved him. They moved again, he plucked coat and returned it under his arm before they continued on their way down the street. It wasn't long until the were aboard a vacant trolley car and scooting through the town. Side by side in the glow of fluorescent ceiling, he had right arm swung along her shoulders and left hand found purchase upon her tight-covered thigh. Fingers curling to pinch at the material a little and pluck it off her skin, it was like an extra layer. "Do these really work to keep you warm? They feel so thin." He'd never worn tights. Never planned on it either. Maybe if he was ever had a role as Peter Pan, but he didn't see that coming in the near future. He didn't even act. From the train to the street to her home, that was their route, right? <done>
FADE FOR TROLLEY SEX!
annnddd we're back with the unexpected!:
Huck -- and our favorite violent ghost:
The trolley jostled a bit and he took a wavering step back hand reaching for the pole, and then a surge of cold air crashed up against his side. Body bouncing like it was hit by a car. Hips and legs crashing out from under him and going sideways, the open doorway of the moving trolley nearly met, but he lurched a hand and caught the edge. Hanging on just off a step. "... Jesus..." Surprise was followed by shocked relief that he caught himself, and his blues flicked to Freya. "... bumpy much, ha. That was close, I'm a klutz someti--." Double palm shove smacked hard into Huck's chest. Tom catching that wide-eyed look and parting of lips before Huck's body went rolling like a ragdoll across the street. <done>
