Post by Emily on Oct 24, 2015 6:48:29 GMT -8
CAST: Crispin Wellings (crispingwellings@aol.com), Rose Sterling (siivergiid@aol.com)
SUMMARY: Unwitting -- and witless, it would seem -- mediocre thief, womanizer and plain ol' human being Crispin robs the wrong house. Rose stalks him with the intention of retrieving a stolen item and making an example of him.
TW: language, emasculation
[Rose] The eyes that followed him were the color of the English Breakfast tea in the tea cup hovering under her chin. Rose doesn't drink tea. She hates it, i fact, especially the way it dries up the back of her tongue and the old traditions her old-world family insists on observing around it. This cup of the warm, brown stuff was still full; for show, like the yellow floral painted around its lip. It was a slow late afternoon at Clary's in the market at Portobello Road. A young man in a black apron stopped to check on her as she sat in the front window, and after forced smiles and reassurances, she was able to return to her watching. Was he going to sell it at the market? Was that why he'd taken her mother's pendant? Of all the bloody things in that haven for excess he could have taken -- he took that. It didn't even look like it was worth much. It was just a stone, just a black stone wrapped in curls of silver wire and suspended from a silver chain, but Lilith Sterling had paled when it was discovered missing after the break-in. Rose intended to have it back. And that was why she slipped out of Clary's just like every other slim, petite brunette who had ever stopped for tea on her way while perusing the farmstands and artisan goods outside, high-heeled steps heavy with purpose. It didn't take her long to predict his route and to choose her vantage point. "Here, little fly," whispered the spider, just before an arm shot out in front of him, snatching him into a neglected, well-shadowed alley between brick buildings by the sleeve. She moved like the she was one of those shadows, quickly jamming the square toe of a boot behind his knee to force him down onto both of them with strength that was perhaps a little surprising. Just a little. All work, no play fingers crawled up the back of his neck, then curled into his hair with a violent tug backward. "Give. It. Back."
[Crispin] Easy money, courtesy of the five-fingered discount. That's how he thought of it, a crooked grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. When you were as talented a thief as Crispin, valuable items just had a way of ending up in your pocket. He'd heard rumors of this particular item from an underground trader, and though he was skeptical he went after it with the idea of a big pay day down the road. And now, it was his. Dressed in dark jeans, a black sweater and a light coat, he strolled down the sidewalk, occasionally casting a curious glance at some peddler peddling their wares. Having enjoyed a pint of ale not long ago, he had a pleasant little buzz going and a hop to his step; life was good. Clary's market was one of his favorite spots to pick up women, plentiful as they were down here this time of day. Smooth to a fault, he rarely had trouble in the love department. He just spotted a delicious looking blonde when suddenly, out of nowhere, he was yanked, unseen, into a dark alley by what felt like a 200 pound man. He cried out in protest as he was forced to his knees and then pulled back by the hair, forcing his back to arch. Imagine his surprise, then, when he heard the voice of a woman. "It? What it?!" he asked through clenched teeth, anger at the situation bubbling beneath the surface. Crispin, never one to be passive, took action. Without warning he pushed himself backwards, hair be damned, knocking into her enough to make her step back. He landed flat on his back, the back of his head thudding against the ground, right between her high heels. Fearing the likely prospect of her jamming one of those heels into his eyeball, he reached up and grabbed the backs of her legs at the knee, pulling downwards while lifting his own knee, trying to essentially make her fall atop him and crack her jaw against his knee bone.
[Rose] "It," she growled, impatient, as though he should have known exactly what she was talking about and was making her explain herself twice. "The pendant you took from Sterling Manor, last night." Make that three times. Rose released the hand full of hair in her hand so that she could issue a caustic slap to the back of his head, but in the instant before contact he'd flailed like a fucking epileptic and forced her backward. She caught her balance in time to avoid one fall, only to be pulled down into another. Dark denim and the lady-knees it covered hit the dirty cobblestone on either side of him. There was a loud click as her jaw introduced itself to his knee, top teeth colliding with bottom teeth, narrowly missing tongue and cheek that could have been bit bloody. An exhaled hiss slithered out from between those jarred pearly whites as she rolled to the side opposite his patellar roadblock. "Oh, of course you're going to make this difficult. Of course." The Brit in her sounded like it was scolding a petulant child for the half-second she was on her back. "Very well." She raised her hips, stomping a foot down on the other side of his so that if he tried to roll away from her, he'd only be met with a rough turn onto his belly. And a hundred and fifteen pounds of spry twenty-four-year-old sitting on his lower back, yanking one of his ankles in toward his ass. She won't make him say uncle if he just gives it back, you know.
[Crispin] Damn she was stronger -- stronger than she should be. He seemed to be making some good progress though, rolling to his belly to get up, but that's when things took a turn for the worse. He grunted as she dropped down onto his back and then let out a hair-raising scream, shrill enough to make fun of a man for making that kind of noise. Something in his lower back cracked as she grabbed his ankle and hooked it under her arm before leaning back, stretching out his stomach, threatening to pop the knee, and yes, doing some unknown damage to his back. Worse, her weight bearing down on him made it difficult to draw a full breath. "AaAaAaaahh...!" he wailed, his face twisting into a grimace of pain as he struggled beneath her. His other foot kicked and flailed as he tried to reach back and stop her -- but of course he couldn't. She had him glued to the ground. The side of his face pressed into the concrete and his hand slapped at it, like he was tapping out, signalling his submission. "Okay, okay!! Just stop..! Pleeaassseeee!" It would, of course, be quite amusing to anyone, had they seen this tiny British woman twist the American man into such a painful, humiliation position. Somehow, her accent made it worse. Again his free foot flailed, and it was apparent he was trying unsucessfully to kick her. As if that would save him.
[Rose] Rose couldn't help the snort of laughter she let loose as she reached for his other ankle, tucked it in tight between her ribcage and her bicep and got comfortable in the curve of his lumbar spine. "The bitch wail; impressive." How on Earth had this poor, helpless beast managed to get past Sterling Manor's security system? She'd imagined him more competent, for some reason. Maybe he was less brawn, more brain. Maybe. Skepticism was settling in. The roll of her eyes was audible in her exasperated voice. "The pendant, please," she repeated herself. Again. "And the how of it, if you don't mind." So that she could make sure what ever flaw he'd exploited to get himself into her family's home was addressed and rectified posthaste.
[Crispin] "Crispin's face went bright red as she snorted out a laugh at his expense before securing his second ankle the same as the first and reallllllly sitting back. This caused another shrill wail of agony to shoot out of him, even more impressive than the first; it wasn't his fault -- the hold was excrutiatingly painful, and as if on cue his back cracked again as she settled herself comfortably. Crispin was freaking out, fearing he might never walk again. Afterall, she had him in an almost C shap, inverting and bending his body a direction it was not meant for. He slammed his hand against the concrete again, beginning to feel the swell of humiliation even through all those waves of pain. It didn't help that she called it the bitch wail, as if to say he was a bitch. Her bitch, by all appearances. After she rolled her eyes and made her demand, he reached a trembling hand into his pocket and pulled out the pendant, offering it back to her miserably. "Pleeaassee..." he hissed through clenched teeth, his mind reeling. "Went in...through the window..disabled the alarm from outside...aargghh!"
[Rose] Rose turned her head to keep an eye on what he was up to when she felt him move for his pocket. Oh, he still had it on him! Wasn't that just good fortune! Hers, anyway. Not so much his. She released the first leg she'd secured, but it wasn't because she was pleased with his offerings or because she felt bad for him. It was to pull her cell phone out of her coat's righthand pocket, lift it slightly over her head so that she could capture the entirety of the moment and hit the big, red START button on its video recorder. It threw bright, white light over the two of them. Shadows began to crawl forward from the wall he was facing, snaking, winding, curling restrictive tendrils around his wrists. "Thank you for your cooperation." Disabled the alarm from outside? Ugh, and they'd just replaced the wiring. Those shadows, they weren't cruel, pain-induced hallucinations. They wrapped themselves around his torso and spiralled down his legs to keep him pinned cheek-down, which gave her the opportunity to dismount, so to speak. Rose sighed as she got to her feet, giving her jaw a little rub. That would be a nice bruise, in the morning. He got kicked in the hip for it. Eventually, she crouched down to get a good look at his face. Of course, that meant he could get a good look at hers: fair, high contrast. Soft, appled cheeks; full, painted lips; big, doe eyes with dark eyelashes. Not exactly what you'd expect a shitkicker to look like. Not even close. That was part of why she was good at what she did. "Don't be shy," she patronized him. "Give us your name."
[Crispin] What was she doing up there? Why wasn't she letting him go? His back felt like it was on fire, the kind of pain that made a person think very dark thoughts as to what it could mean. But then he realized she had grabbed her phone and was now...filming? A confused expression spread across his face. Maybe she wanted a video confession before handing him over to the police? But he couldn't really dwell too much on it, for much to his astonishment shadowy tendrils slithered across the ground like snakes towards his helpless form, wrapped around his wrists and securing them painfully behind his back, before wrapping around his ankles and legs. That was right about when she kicked the man while he was down. Now the shadows were around his arms and torso, wrapping him up completely. He gulped, flinching as the click of her heels carried her 'round in front of him, so that his nose brushed the tips of her boots. Then she crouched down to get a good look at his face, on camera. He looked up and seemed surprised to see how beautiful she was, which of course just added to his shame. It was so embarrassing he couldn't even meet her gaze -- he had to look down, still all red in the face. Her patronizing tone was noted. Already he thought she was an insufferable bitch, and they'd just met! "Crispin..." he said, still obviously hurting from the submission hold she had had him in. "And what do I call you?" She had powers, but he didn't know how supernatural of a woman he was dealing with yet.
[Rose] She's plenty sufferable, thank you! Not in that she's not insufferable, but in that most of those who spend any significant amount of time in her company are probably suffering. "Ah, Crispin," Rose mused, then reached out to lift Crispin's chin like she was examining a racehorse she was considering buying. Not bad. She'd certainly seen more attractive men, but he wasn't a total loss as far as the masculine gender of his species went. "Terribly English name for a Yank, isn't it? I'm Rose. Crispin, I'd like an apology." She paused, then remembered that he hadn't caught on to her first request very quickly. "For your having taken my mother's pendant, you understand." The video camera's light moved away from his face, down toward his hand, where he still clutched at what was not his. "Two, really. One for my mother, who you've upset very much, and one for me, because I've had to take time off from work to hunt you down and retrieve this." The pendant was finally plucked from his hand, and then the light returned, obscuring all in front of him but one side of her face.
[Crispin] "My parents were fond of this culture, thus the English name. If you were to ask me why I couldn't really say," he smirked bitterly. Sour grapes? The man shifted lightly as she lifted his chin, examining him. He averted his eyes and clenched his teeth, his body tightly wound, his hands clenched into fists. The indignity of it all was almost more than he could bear. Once the pendant was taken he let out a defeated sigh and swallowed, knowing what he had to do. Then hopefully that would be the end of this. "Fine. I apologize, to both you and your mother. I'm very, very sorry., Rose." He really thought this would be enough.
[Rose] "I couldn't really say, either," Rose muttered. Sour grapes. Crispin's discomfort didn't go unnoted, exactly, but it did go unreacted to and unaddressed. She let him avert and clench to his piddly little quick pulse's desire, ultimately only cocking her head to the left in response to his apology. "That was very sweet of you, but I'm afraid I'm going to require a little more... assurance, on your part, that you will never steal from my mother's home again." Or insurance, rather, as she was still recording. The dark-haired shadow-weaver looked thoughtful for a moment as she debated with herself as to what kind of assurance she'd be requiring, only then noticing that her scuffle with the thief had ripped at one of the pre-designed and factory-issued snags in the denim that covered her right knee. And that was bleeding. Plump, rose-red lips turned down into a scowl, at first. "Oh, look what you've done. That won't do. What if I scar?" The shadows restraining Crispin began to shift, again, as though they meant to give him up. Wasn't that nice of them? Nice of her? Looser and looser, they gave way until he could crawl to a knee. Then they stopped giving way. Trying to jerk free of them would have been like trying to break iron shackles. "I don't like scars." It may have seemed like she was prattling on about nothing, but she had her reasons for it. Rose always had reasons for everything she did. Her scowl turned itself upside down into the warmest, sweetest smile as she stepped closer, aggressive footfalls all but melting into feminine sway and playful whimsy. "There's only one thing that prevents scarring, you know. True love's kiss." The firm tap of her fingernails attempted to lift his chin. "You love me, yes?"
[Crispin] Every moment held in this strange, shadowy grasp was unnerving on a deeply spiritual level; just what was this woman? A demon? A witch? A vampire? Nobody took those legends seriously anymore -- and yet here he was, at the mercy of some power beyond his comprehension. "You said you wanted an apology. Well, I apologized," he said in a deflated voice, eyeing her and the camera phone in her hand with increasing apprehension. "You have my word I won't try to steal it, or anything else from you or your mother again." Of course, what good was a thief's word? That was his problem, as it always was: character and credibility. "What if you scar...?" he asked, half incredulous, his jaw going slack. "Lady, I'm already scarred from this whole messed up situation! Call your dogs off!" he growled, but then suddenly cried out in pain as the shadows he had just referred to as dogs pushed him up to his knees. "Aarghhh..! Please, my back! I think you really hurt it..." A thin sheen of cold sweat coated his forehead as he struggled to cope with the pain. Then he would simply blink up at her, glancing down at her right knee, scuffed up and bleeding just a little. "You...want me to kiss your boo boo? What are you, five? Quit fucking around...I said I'm sorry already!" he was beginning to lose his temper at this game. Behind him he could hear people, still ignorant of what was taking place in the dark alley, going about their business
[Rose] "And I accept your apology," her dark eyes brightened as she laughed. "But not your word. Honestly, Crispin; a thief's word? What value has that to me?" Oh. Oh, dear. He called her the 'l-word.' Rose's jaw fell just as slack as his had! Since her hand was still in the general vicinity of his chin, she gave the underside of it another, more forceful tap. It was more like a vertical backhand, if we're all friends and being honest, here. "Excuse you," she exhaled with offense. "I am hardly old enough to be addressed with 'lady.'" Apparently she had a small medium large issue with the word. "And that is no way to woo the object of your affection. Do you ever get laid?" Her eyes had widened dramatically. It should be noted, as well, that there was something just a little bit strange about the blood that rose up through the sheared milk-white flesh over Rose's owie. It was darker than usual. More... purple than it should have been. Or maybe it was just the scene's lighting. "Now you owe me another apology , an explanation as to your complete lack of game, an 'I love you, Rose' and a kiss." His to-do list was getting long, already. "There." With a firm point to her knee. "Go on; you only have so much time to do your talking before someone finds us, back here."
[Crispin] Her laughter only made her more attractive -- it was the sound of silver bells -- albeit mocking and infuriating. He shifted on his knees, struggling with the shadows, still a lot of fight left in him despite the sorry situation of his back, which he was increasingly convinced she had pulled or torn. The little backhand was absorbed with a grunt, and then his eyes narrowed and his chest and arms bulged as he flexed. "Have an age complex? What are you, barely 18 or something? Big girl can't go bar hopping yet? Honestly, what's your deal? And you are NOT the object of my affection! You were just an easy target...And I get laid plenty! Tons in fact! I can barely keep the women off me," he said with a scowl, getting all defensive. "But you're not getting another apology out of me, an explanation of how I got SO much game, or a fucking kiss. Quite frankly you can go to hell, you uppity, entitled bitch." Yeah..the gloves had just come off, and he was too worked up to realize how stupid his words really were.
[Rose] "Oh, there you go," was her cooed comeback. "Now you're on the right track! Barely eighteen; uppity, entitled bitch. Maybe you do have a little game." Her hair fell forward with the lean into Crispin's ear, mouth just millimetres from it. Rose smelled dark and sweet, all cocoa and plum. "But just a little." At least she'd lowered her voice. Her affection -- if it was really affection, it probably wasn't -- was short-lived. It hadn't taken her long to find poor Crispin's buttons and start jamming her fingers into them. He hadn't gotten anywhere near hers. Not even close. So much of who she presented herself to be was false; it would make even a Freudian's head spin. The crack of her open hand colliding with his left cheek echoed up and down the alley. "I haven't got all day. Out with it. Here, I'll make it easy for you. Repeat after me: 'I'm sorry for addressing you improperly, I have no game because I've never learned to fuck properly, I love you, Rose, and then the kiss." More pointing at her knee. The pitter patter of crows landing in the alley to peck at scraps of the day's leftover food and garbage added to the situation's oddly pleasant soundtrack. Ring, ring went the grocer's bell.
[Crispin] Oh, yes, she was pushing his buttons all right, though he'd never admit it. She had already bested him in combat and now had the upper hand -- he couldn't afford to be at a mental disadvantage now too. Though he was, of course. Jaw muscles tensed as he stared up defiantly at this woman who was tormenting him. "Addressing you improperly? Who the hell do you think you are? How about this. Ahem: Kiss my ass, you fucking cunt. I'm sorry you're such a stuck up bitch, but I've really had enough of this. Now make your little shadow servants here let me GO!" he shouted with a growl, his face red with frustration as his body jerked and twisted. And there she was, beautiful, poised, smiling mockingly down at him. Ugh!! "I apologized once, I won't do it again! Now this is embarrassing, sure, but if you don't let me go right now I WILL start calling for help. I'm pretty sure we'll BOTH get in trouble -- me for theft, you for assault. You've had more than enough time to turn me in if that was your intention, and there is video evidence to back me up."
[Rose] ... couldn't afford to be at a mental disadvantage now too. Oh, isn't that cute? He thought he had a mental advantage, before! Her eyes rolled again. "I told you who I was. Are you daft? A little vacant in the attic?" Rose's fingers were curling into Crispin's hair, again, giving his crown a sharp yank so far backward that his Adam's apple was front and center and he could only look up -- straight up. At her. All those dark eyelashes blinked slowly. Once. Twice. "I'd have let you get away with the knee if only you'd have told me how you love me madly, you know. Your reticence disappoints me." Fucking cunt, stuck up bitch; none of that seemed to phase her. "I thought that you were the one. Ah, well. Since you're not, I suppose I'll just treat you like I treat all of my other boyfriends." Wait, she was being nice to him? There was more? Oh, yes, there was more. She brought her injured knee up into Crispin's chest, patella to sternum, to knock the wind out of his sails. "They aren't my servants, by the way. The shadows, I mean. They're my friends." There would be no doubling over for him. Those cruel fingers were still curled into his hair like she expected his head to come off, shrink and go home with her an occult trinket from the market. They rang again, the silver bells of her laughter, this time in tandem with the grocer's brass one. "Call for help, then, if you'd like to." Delight glowed in those pretty, rosy cheeks of hers. "I'm a Sterling," she whispered. A Sterling. Anyone who was anyone knew what a nightmare London politician Poppy Sterling-Vox could make a life. She may as well have had local law enforcement on payroll. Not just law enforcement, but the banks, too. The municipal boards. Anything that Rose wanted to get her fingers into, she could get them into with the fling about of her aunt's name. "Your average bob will see me, little miss Sterling, and you, big, strong Crispin, and my skinned knee, and my sad eyes, and my mussed hair, and who do you think will go away before anything like a cell phone can be mentioned? Hm? Who do you think they'll believe?" Unfortunately, he'd given her a much more brilliant idea than she'd brought with her. "I'll tell you what; since you've been such delightful company and you're such a fan of the idea of ass-kissing, instead of the four things you owe me, I'll accept just the one. Would you like it pantied or bare?" And then, oh horror of horrors, Rose released Crispin's hair and reached under her sweater to tug at a button and unzip her fly.
[Crispin] A sharp inhalation of breath and a twisting of his face into a grimace as she jerked his head back by the hair. Hard. Enough to make his eyes waters and his body squirm. His breath became quick and shallow to cope with this newfound pain as he now stared waaaay up at the rather small woman currently towering over him. Adams apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed, detecting a shift in tone in the confrontation that set him on edge. She was still playful, in that mocking, entitled beauty sort of way, but he felt an element of fear he hadn't until just then. "Umph!!" he groaned as that knee slammed into his sternum, knocking the wind out of him, causing him to gasp. He wanted nothing more than to topple over, but of course she didn't let him. He remained upright, coughing and groaning and struggling in vain. But her whisper cut through all the noise he was making, making his skin go cold and his heart sink down into the pit of his stomach. A Sterling? Fuck! "I didn't...know..." he wheezed, still clenching his teeth. A nervous panic took hold. He began to wriggle and get all fidgety. He was in deeper shit than he'd realized. But what happened next literally made his jaw drop. "You can't be seriou..." as he stared up, only to see her begin to unbutton her pants. She was serious! "Stop! Seriously...please.." his voice cracked. Obviously his whole angry defiance thing had been a huge mistake. "I'm sorry...I apologize again...And I think you're very lovely. I love you, and I will never touch your property again. Okay?" Damn. But yeah, obviously the thought of puckering up was just a little too much for the still-proud Crispin to swallow. He had some pride, after all.
[Rose] "You didn't know? You didn't know that the home you violated was the Sterling House? Really?" That seemed to amuse her, even if she didn't completely believe it. Certainly this idiot hadn't broken into a lavish, old world manor and decided a fucking rock on a chain was the most valuable thing he could abscond with, completely ignorant to who and what he was meddling with. "Oh, you poor bastard." The warm, sweet tone of her voice might have suggested she liked a person she spoke to in it in some other, some luckier-than-Crispin's reality. "Poor, poor, Crispin." Aw. He loved her! But... she shook her head and smiled. A pillar of shadow rose up out of nothing so that she could set her cell phone on it and hook both thumbs under the waistband of her jeans. "I'm sorry, but that offer has expired." Down, down, down those jeans slid, and she was slow about it, too. "You didn't answer my question. Would you like it pantied or bare? It's chilly out here, now, don't keep me waiting with my knickers down, it's rude." Indigo gave way to a slick of shiny, magenta fabric triangled between thighs that only looked like porcelain; a convenient misrepresentation for weapons. Her turn around was a tease, at best and intentional torture, at worst. Crispin would soon find himself quite literally face-to... not face, with the prettiest little piece of supernatural ass he'd likely ever seen. Rose tugged at the waistband of her panties and let it snap back against her. "What's it going to be? Don't make me choose for you."
[Crispin] "Look...It's not like...I mean come on...Some houses are just that...I don't...You can't background check every single.." he stammered, his tongue tripping over itself as he tried to justify this major oversight, but it was useless. How could he not have known he was robbing one of the most powerful, influential families in the entire city?! Stupid! Red in the face, he sputtered like a damn fool, flounding to come up with some sort of counter to this woman who increasingly got the better of him verbally. "What're you...Wait, hang on...Stop.." he watched with a frown as she set the phone up to capture their intimate moment, his body still twisting and kicking within the grasp of her shadowy friends. "I can't believe this is real...What are you!? How is this possible?!" His voice once again shrill, denoting panic, desperation. "Come on, you can't be serious!" he let out a harsh, awkward laugh as she unbuttoned and lowered her jeans. His face went pale. It might have been the single most undignified, insulting moment of his entire life. She was serious! And so there he was, beaten up and on his knees, staring right at her perfect ass, inches away from his face. "Expired?!" he choked. "Please, Rose...This isn't funny.." And perhaps most embarassing of all, he was getting aroused, in a frustrating, against his will kind of way. He was a man, after all. But this was not the kind of thing he had in mind when thinking of getting some ass. "I do this and you let me go?" A crack in his armor. "At least turn off the video. I can't have that floating around out there....." his mouth felt dry. His nerves, on edge. "And pantied, for fucks sake!"
[Rose]"Background check?" Crispin couldn't see the way her nose wrinkled and her brow furrowed with utter disbelief. "Have you never heard of Google? Are you that old?" Rose turned her head so that she could look back at him over her right shoulder, dark hair following obediently and falling just so. "Really, are you? ... and is it true, what they say about aging men? Does it still work?" she whispered loudly, deadpan. And if he didn't know which it she meant by that (she wasn't talking about Google) well, he was going to make hopeless help. Her work required a certain degree of delicacy, after all. Cue Crispin's little panic attack. Cue Rose's lacklustre response to it. "You're being awfully difficult about this. It's beginning to make me think that you aren't sincere," she complained, bottom lip sticking out, hands angling into the curve of bare hips. Neverminding questions about what she was or how anything that was happening just then was possible, she sighed impatiently. "I'm quite serious, and so is my schedule, Crispin. If you'll kindly kiss my ass so that we can move on to other business...?" There was no rest-of-that-sentence. It was left open-ended with an upward inflection, like all questions that aren't really questions, but instructions, are. Look at that. She even warmed up a nice spot for him, rubbing a hand in circles over the hemline that separated magenta from skin over the back of her right hip. See, she's not so bad! "Mmhm. Pucker up, and the shadows disappear. And no, no, you're right. You can't have video of this floating around out there." She'd just... let that sink in, a moment, for him.
[Crispin] "Listen you little shit...!" he blurted, an emotional outburst that showed he was not quite as calm and collected as he liked to think himself. But goddamn if she didn't get under his skin in a primal, purely female kind of way. There was just something about the way she disrespected him as a man that set his teeth on edge; and oh, the way she looked down her nose at him, over her shoulder, with her hands so expectantly on her hips! The blase, almost bored way in which she casually went about emasculating him. It was enough to make a guy crazy. But as long as those damn shadows held him...Rage! And he wore his feelings on his sleeve, doing a very poor job of hiding just how bad this was eating at him. "I...I'm sorry...Fuck...What other business?" He blinked up at her, momentarily forgetting the pain in his back as he considered what she meant. Wasn't this going to be the end of it? But no sooner did he contemplate this than his mind began to dwell on her comment about the video. One word: blackmail. Can you imagine? A video of Crispin kissing her ass, on social media, youtube, and google? Any search would bring up that image, that video. He'd never be able to show his face again! It was then he realized this was checkmate. But what choice did he have? There was no getting out of this until he did it. And so....He leaned forward and closed his eyes, puckering up and pressing his lips against the warm spot of flesh she guided him towards, kissing her ass. On...film....Immediately his shoulders slumped and his face felt like it was on fire. He stared down at the ground, his heart thumping wildly in his chest. Was he about to cry? Scream? For a moment, he was utterly speechless. Quite simply, the guy was h-u-m-i-l-i-a-t-e-d.
[Rose] He must have become very fond of her laugh in the short time they'd been acquainted! He'd inspired it yet again with another one of his little pet names for her. Again, Crispin's questions were ignored, and Rose just watched him with every expectation that he accept the bargain being so generously offered to him. The cold sent goosebumps racing up the backs of her thighs, and she might have further complained had he not finally caught on. A pleasant, "Mm," hummed between her lips as a hand reached back to issue his abused hair a smooth back before she was hiking her britches back up with efficiency that had not been deployed while tugging them down. "There. Was that so bad? I thought it was sort of nice." Rose swiveled to snatch her phone up, stop its video application and tuck it not in her pocket, where Crispin might have thought to try to snatch it from once he was free, but down the front of the aforementioned britches. The shadows restraining him slithered back into the nooks and crannies they'd slithered out of. Rose crossed her arms over her chest and watched him carefully. "I trust you'll keep your cell phone on you," she commented dryly. "In case I need anything."
[Crispin] Her laughter was quickly becoming the sound he hated most in the world, for it usually meant she was getting the better of him. Slowly, Crispin eased back away from her, the look of shame undeniable on his face; a grown man, brought to his knees and made supplicant to a woman a decade his junior. He was a disgrace! Women, he knew, were naturally weaker than men, not the other way around! And oh, that smoothing back of his hair! It was all he could do to choke back a sob and repress any other revealing sound that might slip out. "Of course you thought it was nice...It was your ass being kissed....That can never happen again..." he said, kind of like a warning, but coming off more as a request. Finally the shadows released him. And yes, he eyed that phone like a hawk, obviously desperate to delete the footage saved in its memory. Crispin tried not to think about everything that had happened. Tellingly, he couldn't look her in the eyes after that. "Honestly, I was kind of hoping never to see you again, Rose... What's done is done. I learned my lesson." He rose to his feet. "Let's just end it at this.."
[Rose] That can never happen again. Rose just smiled. Oh, she smiled, even lifting a hand to give the side of Crispin's face a gentle pat once he'd pulled himself to his feet as though she held some great fondness for him. It was a stark reminder of how small, how feminine she was in comparison to him. "Don't be silly," she sighed. "You kissed me and told me that you loved me. You're mine, now." With that, she backed away, eyebrows riding high on her forehead in an expression that couldn't have been any more amused if it tried, hands finding the pockets in her coat and seeking warmth. "I'll be in touch, Prince Charming." Then Rose was gone.
SUMMARY: Unwitting -- and witless, it would seem -- mediocre thief, womanizer and plain ol' human being Crispin robs the wrong house. Rose stalks him with the intention of retrieving a stolen item and making an example of him.
TW: language, emasculation
[Rose] The eyes that followed him were the color of the English Breakfast tea in the tea cup hovering under her chin. Rose doesn't drink tea. She hates it, i fact, especially the way it dries up the back of her tongue and the old traditions her old-world family insists on observing around it. This cup of the warm, brown stuff was still full; for show, like the yellow floral painted around its lip. It was a slow late afternoon at Clary's in the market at Portobello Road. A young man in a black apron stopped to check on her as she sat in the front window, and after forced smiles and reassurances, she was able to return to her watching. Was he going to sell it at the market? Was that why he'd taken her mother's pendant? Of all the bloody things in that haven for excess he could have taken -- he took that. It didn't even look like it was worth much. It was just a stone, just a black stone wrapped in curls of silver wire and suspended from a silver chain, but Lilith Sterling had paled when it was discovered missing after the break-in. Rose intended to have it back. And that was why she slipped out of Clary's just like every other slim, petite brunette who had ever stopped for tea on her way while perusing the farmstands and artisan goods outside, high-heeled steps heavy with purpose. It didn't take her long to predict his route and to choose her vantage point. "Here, little fly," whispered the spider, just before an arm shot out in front of him, snatching him into a neglected, well-shadowed alley between brick buildings by the sleeve. She moved like the she was one of those shadows, quickly jamming the square toe of a boot behind his knee to force him down onto both of them with strength that was perhaps a little surprising. Just a little. All work, no play fingers crawled up the back of his neck, then curled into his hair with a violent tug backward. "Give. It. Back."
[Crispin] Easy money, courtesy of the five-fingered discount. That's how he thought of it, a crooked grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. When you were as talented a thief as Crispin, valuable items just had a way of ending up in your pocket. He'd heard rumors of this particular item from an underground trader, and though he was skeptical he went after it with the idea of a big pay day down the road. And now, it was his. Dressed in dark jeans, a black sweater and a light coat, he strolled down the sidewalk, occasionally casting a curious glance at some peddler peddling their wares. Having enjoyed a pint of ale not long ago, he had a pleasant little buzz going and a hop to his step; life was good. Clary's market was one of his favorite spots to pick up women, plentiful as they were down here this time of day. Smooth to a fault, he rarely had trouble in the love department. He just spotted a delicious looking blonde when suddenly, out of nowhere, he was yanked, unseen, into a dark alley by what felt like a 200 pound man. He cried out in protest as he was forced to his knees and then pulled back by the hair, forcing his back to arch. Imagine his surprise, then, when he heard the voice of a woman. "It? What it?!" he asked through clenched teeth, anger at the situation bubbling beneath the surface. Crispin, never one to be passive, took action. Without warning he pushed himself backwards, hair be damned, knocking into her enough to make her step back. He landed flat on his back, the back of his head thudding against the ground, right between her high heels. Fearing the likely prospect of her jamming one of those heels into his eyeball, he reached up and grabbed the backs of her legs at the knee, pulling downwards while lifting his own knee, trying to essentially make her fall atop him and crack her jaw against his knee bone.
[Rose] "It," she growled, impatient, as though he should have known exactly what she was talking about and was making her explain herself twice. "The pendant you took from Sterling Manor, last night." Make that three times. Rose released the hand full of hair in her hand so that she could issue a caustic slap to the back of his head, but in the instant before contact he'd flailed like a fucking epileptic and forced her backward. She caught her balance in time to avoid one fall, only to be pulled down into another. Dark denim and the lady-knees it covered hit the dirty cobblestone on either side of him. There was a loud click as her jaw introduced itself to his knee, top teeth colliding with bottom teeth, narrowly missing tongue and cheek that could have been bit bloody. An exhaled hiss slithered out from between those jarred pearly whites as she rolled to the side opposite his patellar roadblock. "Oh, of course you're going to make this difficult. Of course." The Brit in her sounded like it was scolding a petulant child for the half-second she was on her back. "Very well." She raised her hips, stomping a foot down on the other side of his so that if he tried to roll away from her, he'd only be met with a rough turn onto his belly. And a hundred and fifteen pounds of spry twenty-four-year-old sitting on his lower back, yanking one of his ankles in toward his ass. She won't make him say uncle if he just gives it back, you know.
[Crispin] Damn she was stronger -- stronger than she should be. He seemed to be making some good progress though, rolling to his belly to get up, but that's when things took a turn for the worse. He grunted as she dropped down onto his back and then let out a hair-raising scream, shrill enough to make fun of a man for making that kind of noise. Something in his lower back cracked as she grabbed his ankle and hooked it under her arm before leaning back, stretching out his stomach, threatening to pop the knee, and yes, doing some unknown damage to his back. Worse, her weight bearing down on him made it difficult to draw a full breath. "AaAaAaaahh...!" he wailed, his face twisting into a grimace of pain as he struggled beneath her. His other foot kicked and flailed as he tried to reach back and stop her -- but of course he couldn't. She had him glued to the ground. The side of his face pressed into the concrete and his hand slapped at it, like he was tapping out, signalling his submission. "Okay, okay!! Just stop..! Pleeaassseeee!" It would, of course, be quite amusing to anyone, had they seen this tiny British woman twist the American man into such a painful, humiliation position. Somehow, her accent made it worse. Again his free foot flailed, and it was apparent he was trying unsucessfully to kick her. As if that would save him.
[Rose] Rose couldn't help the snort of laughter she let loose as she reached for his other ankle, tucked it in tight between her ribcage and her bicep and got comfortable in the curve of his lumbar spine. "The bitch wail; impressive." How on Earth had this poor, helpless beast managed to get past Sterling Manor's security system? She'd imagined him more competent, for some reason. Maybe he was less brawn, more brain. Maybe. Skepticism was settling in. The roll of her eyes was audible in her exasperated voice. "The pendant, please," she repeated herself. Again. "And the how of it, if you don't mind." So that she could make sure what ever flaw he'd exploited to get himself into her family's home was addressed and rectified posthaste.
[Crispin] "Crispin's face went bright red as she snorted out a laugh at his expense before securing his second ankle the same as the first and reallllllly sitting back. This caused another shrill wail of agony to shoot out of him, even more impressive than the first; it wasn't his fault -- the hold was excrutiatingly painful, and as if on cue his back cracked again as she settled herself comfortably. Crispin was freaking out, fearing he might never walk again. Afterall, she had him in an almost C shap, inverting and bending his body a direction it was not meant for. He slammed his hand against the concrete again, beginning to feel the swell of humiliation even through all those waves of pain. It didn't help that she called it the bitch wail, as if to say he was a bitch. Her bitch, by all appearances. After she rolled her eyes and made her demand, he reached a trembling hand into his pocket and pulled out the pendant, offering it back to her miserably. "Pleeaassee..." he hissed through clenched teeth, his mind reeling. "Went in...through the window..disabled the alarm from outside...aargghh!"
[Rose] Rose turned her head to keep an eye on what he was up to when she felt him move for his pocket. Oh, he still had it on him! Wasn't that just good fortune! Hers, anyway. Not so much his. She released the first leg she'd secured, but it wasn't because she was pleased with his offerings or because she felt bad for him. It was to pull her cell phone out of her coat's righthand pocket, lift it slightly over her head so that she could capture the entirety of the moment and hit the big, red START button on its video recorder. It threw bright, white light over the two of them. Shadows began to crawl forward from the wall he was facing, snaking, winding, curling restrictive tendrils around his wrists. "Thank you for your cooperation." Disabled the alarm from outside? Ugh, and they'd just replaced the wiring. Those shadows, they weren't cruel, pain-induced hallucinations. They wrapped themselves around his torso and spiralled down his legs to keep him pinned cheek-down, which gave her the opportunity to dismount, so to speak. Rose sighed as she got to her feet, giving her jaw a little rub. That would be a nice bruise, in the morning. He got kicked in the hip for it. Eventually, she crouched down to get a good look at his face. Of course, that meant he could get a good look at hers: fair, high contrast. Soft, appled cheeks; full, painted lips; big, doe eyes with dark eyelashes. Not exactly what you'd expect a shitkicker to look like. Not even close. That was part of why she was good at what she did. "Don't be shy," she patronized him. "Give us your name."
[Crispin] What was she doing up there? Why wasn't she letting him go? His back felt like it was on fire, the kind of pain that made a person think very dark thoughts as to what it could mean. But then he realized she had grabbed her phone and was now...filming? A confused expression spread across his face. Maybe she wanted a video confession before handing him over to the police? But he couldn't really dwell too much on it, for much to his astonishment shadowy tendrils slithered across the ground like snakes towards his helpless form, wrapped around his wrists and securing them painfully behind his back, before wrapping around his ankles and legs. That was right about when she kicked the man while he was down. Now the shadows were around his arms and torso, wrapping him up completely. He gulped, flinching as the click of her heels carried her 'round in front of him, so that his nose brushed the tips of her boots. Then she crouched down to get a good look at his face, on camera. He looked up and seemed surprised to see how beautiful she was, which of course just added to his shame. It was so embarrassing he couldn't even meet her gaze -- he had to look down, still all red in the face. Her patronizing tone was noted. Already he thought she was an insufferable bitch, and they'd just met! "Crispin..." he said, still obviously hurting from the submission hold she had had him in. "And what do I call you?" She had powers, but he didn't know how supernatural of a woman he was dealing with yet.
[Rose] She's plenty sufferable, thank you! Not in that she's not insufferable, but in that most of those who spend any significant amount of time in her company are probably suffering. "Ah, Crispin," Rose mused, then reached out to lift Crispin's chin like she was examining a racehorse she was considering buying. Not bad. She'd certainly seen more attractive men, but he wasn't a total loss as far as the masculine gender of his species went. "Terribly English name for a Yank, isn't it? I'm Rose. Crispin, I'd like an apology." She paused, then remembered that he hadn't caught on to her first request very quickly. "For your having taken my mother's pendant, you understand." The video camera's light moved away from his face, down toward his hand, where he still clutched at what was not his. "Two, really. One for my mother, who you've upset very much, and one for me, because I've had to take time off from work to hunt you down and retrieve this." The pendant was finally plucked from his hand, and then the light returned, obscuring all in front of him but one side of her face.
[Crispin] "My parents were fond of this culture, thus the English name. If you were to ask me why I couldn't really say," he smirked bitterly. Sour grapes? The man shifted lightly as she lifted his chin, examining him. He averted his eyes and clenched his teeth, his body tightly wound, his hands clenched into fists. The indignity of it all was almost more than he could bear. Once the pendant was taken he let out a defeated sigh and swallowed, knowing what he had to do. Then hopefully that would be the end of this. "Fine. I apologize, to both you and your mother. I'm very, very sorry., Rose." He really thought this would be enough.
[Rose] "I couldn't really say, either," Rose muttered. Sour grapes. Crispin's discomfort didn't go unnoted, exactly, but it did go unreacted to and unaddressed. She let him avert and clench to his piddly little quick pulse's desire, ultimately only cocking her head to the left in response to his apology. "That was very sweet of you, but I'm afraid I'm going to require a little more... assurance, on your part, that you will never steal from my mother's home again." Or insurance, rather, as she was still recording. The dark-haired shadow-weaver looked thoughtful for a moment as she debated with herself as to what kind of assurance she'd be requiring, only then noticing that her scuffle with the thief had ripped at one of the pre-designed and factory-issued snags in the denim that covered her right knee. And that was bleeding. Plump, rose-red lips turned down into a scowl, at first. "Oh, look what you've done. That won't do. What if I scar?" The shadows restraining Crispin began to shift, again, as though they meant to give him up. Wasn't that nice of them? Nice of her? Looser and looser, they gave way until he could crawl to a knee. Then they stopped giving way. Trying to jerk free of them would have been like trying to break iron shackles. "I don't like scars." It may have seemed like she was prattling on about nothing, but she had her reasons for it. Rose always had reasons for everything she did. Her scowl turned itself upside down into the warmest, sweetest smile as she stepped closer, aggressive footfalls all but melting into feminine sway and playful whimsy. "There's only one thing that prevents scarring, you know. True love's kiss." The firm tap of her fingernails attempted to lift his chin. "You love me, yes?"
[Crispin] Every moment held in this strange, shadowy grasp was unnerving on a deeply spiritual level; just what was this woman? A demon? A witch? A vampire? Nobody took those legends seriously anymore -- and yet here he was, at the mercy of some power beyond his comprehension. "You said you wanted an apology. Well, I apologized," he said in a deflated voice, eyeing her and the camera phone in her hand with increasing apprehension. "You have my word I won't try to steal it, or anything else from you or your mother again." Of course, what good was a thief's word? That was his problem, as it always was: character and credibility. "What if you scar...?" he asked, half incredulous, his jaw going slack. "Lady, I'm already scarred from this whole messed up situation! Call your dogs off!" he growled, but then suddenly cried out in pain as the shadows he had just referred to as dogs pushed him up to his knees. "Aarghhh..! Please, my back! I think you really hurt it..." A thin sheen of cold sweat coated his forehead as he struggled to cope with the pain. Then he would simply blink up at her, glancing down at her right knee, scuffed up and bleeding just a little. "You...want me to kiss your boo boo? What are you, five? Quit fucking around...I said I'm sorry already!" he was beginning to lose his temper at this game. Behind him he could hear people, still ignorant of what was taking place in the dark alley, going about their business
[Rose] "And I accept your apology," her dark eyes brightened as she laughed. "But not your word. Honestly, Crispin; a thief's word? What value has that to me?" Oh. Oh, dear. He called her the 'l-word.' Rose's jaw fell just as slack as his had! Since her hand was still in the general vicinity of his chin, she gave the underside of it another, more forceful tap. It was more like a vertical backhand, if we're all friends and being honest, here. "Excuse you," she exhaled with offense. "I am hardly old enough to be addressed with 'lady.'" Apparently she had a small medium large issue with the word. "And that is no way to woo the object of your affection. Do you ever get laid?" Her eyes had widened dramatically. It should be noted, as well, that there was something just a little bit strange about the blood that rose up through the sheared milk-white flesh over Rose's owie. It was darker than usual. More... purple than it should have been. Or maybe it was just the scene's lighting. "Now you owe me another apology , an explanation as to your complete lack of game, an 'I love you, Rose' and a kiss." His to-do list was getting long, already. "There." With a firm point to her knee. "Go on; you only have so much time to do your talking before someone finds us, back here."
[Crispin] Her laughter only made her more attractive -- it was the sound of silver bells -- albeit mocking and infuriating. He shifted on his knees, struggling with the shadows, still a lot of fight left in him despite the sorry situation of his back, which he was increasingly convinced she had pulled or torn. The little backhand was absorbed with a grunt, and then his eyes narrowed and his chest and arms bulged as he flexed. "Have an age complex? What are you, barely 18 or something? Big girl can't go bar hopping yet? Honestly, what's your deal? And you are NOT the object of my affection! You were just an easy target...And I get laid plenty! Tons in fact! I can barely keep the women off me," he said with a scowl, getting all defensive. "But you're not getting another apology out of me, an explanation of how I got SO much game, or a fucking kiss. Quite frankly you can go to hell, you uppity, entitled bitch." Yeah..the gloves had just come off, and he was too worked up to realize how stupid his words really were.
[Rose] "Oh, there you go," was her cooed comeback. "Now you're on the right track! Barely eighteen; uppity, entitled bitch. Maybe you do have a little game." Her hair fell forward with the lean into Crispin's ear, mouth just millimetres from it. Rose smelled dark and sweet, all cocoa and plum. "But just a little." At least she'd lowered her voice. Her affection -- if it was really affection, it probably wasn't -- was short-lived. It hadn't taken her long to find poor Crispin's buttons and start jamming her fingers into them. He hadn't gotten anywhere near hers. Not even close. So much of who she presented herself to be was false; it would make even a Freudian's head spin. The crack of her open hand colliding with his left cheek echoed up and down the alley. "I haven't got all day. Out with it. Here, I'll make it easy for you. Repeat after me: 'I'm sorry for addressing you improperly, I have no game because I've never learned to fuck properly, I love you, Rose, and then the kiss." More pointing at her knee. The pitter patter of crows landing in the alley to peck at scraps of the day's leftover food and garbage added to the situation's oddly pleasant soundtrack. Ring, ring went the grocer's bell.
[Crispin] Oh, yes, she was pushing his buttons all right, though he'd never admit it. She had already bested him in combat and now had the upper hand -- he couldn't afford to be at a mental disadvantage now too. Though he was, of course. Jaw muscles tensed as he stared up defiantly at this woman who was tormenting him. "Addressing you improperly? Who the hell do you think you are? How about this. Ahem: Kiss my ass, you fucking cunt. I'm sorry you're such a stuck up bitch, but I've really had enough of this. Now make your little shadow servants here let me GO!" he shouted with a growl, his face red with frustration as his body jerked and twisted. And there she was, beautiful, poised, smiling mockingly down at him. Ugh!! "I apologized once, I won't do it again! Now this is embarrassing, sure, but if you don't let me go right now I WILL start calling for help. I'm pretty sure we'll BOTH get in trouble -- me for theft, you for assault. You've had more than enough time to turn me in if that was your intention, and there is video evidence to back me up."
[Rose] ... couldn't afford to be at a mental disadvantage now too. Oh, isn't that cute? He thought he had a mental advantage, before! Her eyes rolled again. "I told you who I was. Are you daft? A little vacant in the attic?" Rose's fingers were curling into Crispin's hair, again, giving his crown a sharp yank so far backward that his Adam's apple was front and center and he could only look up -- straight up. At her. All those dark eyelashes blinked slowly. Once. Twice. "I'd have let you get away with the knee if only you'd have told me how you love me madly, you know. Your reticence disappoints me." Fucking cunt, stuck up bitch; none of that seemed to phase her. "I thought that you were the one. Ah, well. Since you're not, I suppose I'll just treat you like I treat all of my other boyfriends." Wait, she was being nice to him? There was more? Oh, yes, there was more. She brought her injured knee up into Crispin's chest, patella to sternum, to knock the wind out of his sails. "They aren't my servants, by the way. The shadows, I mean. They're my friends." There would be no doubling over for him. Those cruel fingers were still curled into his hair like she expected his head to come off, shrink and go home with her an occult trinket from the market. They rang again, the silver bells of her laughter, this time in tandem with the grocer's brass one. "Call for help, then, if you'd like to." Delight glowed in those pretty, rosy cheeks of hers. "I'm a Sterling," she whispered. A Sterling. Anyone who was anyone knew what a nightmare London politician Poppy Sterling-Vox could make a life. She may as well have had local law enforcement on payroll. Not just law enforcement, but the banks, too. The municipal boards. Anything that Rose wanted to get her fingers into, she could get them into with the fling about of her aunt's name. "Your average bob will see me, little miss Sterling, and you, big, strong Crispin, and my skinned knee, and my sad eyes, and my mussed hair, and who do you think will go away before anything like a cell phone can be mentioned? Hm? Who do you think they'll believe?" Unfortunately, he'd given her a much more brilliant idea than she'd brought with her. "I'll tell you what; since you've been such delightful company and you're such a fan of the idea of ass-kissing, instead of the four things you owe me, I'll accept just the one. Would you like it pantied or bare?" And then, oh horror of horrors, Rose released Crispin's hair and reached under her sweater to tug at a button and unzip her fly.
[Crispin] A sharp inhalation of breath and a twisting of his face into a grimace as she jerked his head back by the hair. Hard. Enough to make his eyes waters and his body squirm. His breath became quick and shallow to cope with this newfound pain as he now stared waaaay up at the rather small woman currently towering over him. Adams apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed, detecting a shift in tone in the confrontation that set him on edge. She was still playful, in that mocking, entitled beauty sort of way, but he felt an element of fear he hadn't until just then. "Umph!!" he groaned as that knee slammed into his sternum, knocking the wind out of him, causing him to gasp. He wanted nothing more than to topple over, but of course she didn't let him. He remained upright, coughing and groaning and struggling in vain. But her whisper cut through all the noise he was making, making his skin go cold and his heart sink down into the pit of his stomach. A Sterling? Fuck! "I didn't...know..." he wheezed, still clenching his teeth. A nervous panic took hold. He began to wriggle and get all fidgety. He was in deeper shit than he'd realized. But what happened next literally made his jaw drop. "You can't be seriou..." as he stared up, only to see her begin to unbutton her pants. She was serious! "Stop! Seriously...please.." his voice cracked. Obviously his whole angry defiance thing had been a huge mistake. "I'm sorry...I apologize again...And I think you're very lovely. I love you, and I will never touch your property again. Okay?" Damn. But yeah, obviously the thought of puckering up was just a little too much for the still-proud Crispin to swallow. He had some pride, after all.
[Rose] "You didn't know? You didn't know that the home you violated was the Sterling House? Really?" That seemed to amuse her, even if she didn't completely believe it. Certainly this idiot hadn't broken into a lavish, old world manor and decided a fucking rock on a chain was the most valuable thing he could abscond with, completely ignorant to who and what he was meddling with. "Oh, you poor bastard." The warm, sweet tone of her voice might have suggested she liked a person she spoke to in it in some other, some luckier-than-Crispin's reality. "Poor, poor, Crispin." Aw. He loved her! But... she shook her head and smiled. A pillar of shadow rose up out of nothing so that she could set her cell phone on it and hook both thumbs under the waistband of her jeans. "I'm sorry, but that offer has expired." Down, down, down those jeans slid, and she was slow about it, too. "You didn't answer my question. Would you like it pantied or bare? It's chilly out here, now, don't keep me waiting with my knickers down, it's rude." Indigo gave way to a slick of shiny, magenta fabric triangled between thighs that only looked like porcelain; a convenient misrepresentation for weapons. Her turn around was a tease, at best and intentional torture, at worst. Crispin would soon find himself quite literally face-to... not face, with the prettiest little piece of supernatural ass he'd likely ever seen. Rose tugged at the waistband of her panties and let it snap back against her. "What's it going to be? Don't make me choose for you."
[Crispin] "Look...It's not like...I mean come on...Some houses are just that...I don't...You can't background check every single.." he stammered, his tongue tripping over itself as he tried to justify this major oversight, but it was useless. How could he not have known he was robbing one of the most powerful, influential families in the entire city?! Stupid! Red in the face, he sputtered like a damn fool, flounding to come up with some sort of counter to this woman who increasingly got the better of him verbally. "What're you...Wait, hang on...Stop.." he watched with a frown as she set the phone up to capture their intimate moment, his body still twisting and kicking within the grasp of her shadowy friends. "I can't believe this is real...What are you!? How is this possible?!" His voice once again shrill, denoting panic, desperation. "Come on, you can't be serious!" he let out a harsh, awkward laugh as she unbuttoned and lowered her jeans. His face went pale. It might have been the single most undignified, insulting moment of his entire life. She was serious! And so there he was, beaten up and on his knees, staring right at her perfect ass, inches away from his face. "Expired?!" he choked. "Please, Rose...This isn't funny.." And perhaps most embarassing of all, he was getting aroused, in a frustrating, against his will kind of way. He was a man, after all. But this was not the kind of thing he had in mind when thinking of getting some ass. "I do this and you let me go?" A crack in his armor. "At least turn off the video. I can't have that floating around out there....." his mouth felt dry. His nerves, on edge. "And pantied, for fucks sake!"
[Rose]"Background check?" Crispin couldn't see the way her nose wrinkled and her brow furrowed with utter disbelief. "Have you never heard of Google? Are you that old?" Rose turned her head so that she could look back at him over her right shoulder, dark hair following obediently and falling just so. "Really, are you? ... and is it true, what they say about aging men? Does it still work?" she whispered loudly, deadpan. And if he didn't know which it she meant by that (she wasn't talking about Google) well, he was going to make hopeless help. Her work required a certain degree of delicacy, after all. Cue Crispin's little panic attack. Cue Rose's lacklustre response to it. "You're being awfully difficult about this. It's beginning to make me think that you aren't sincere," she complained, bottom lip sticking out, hands angling into the curve of bare hips. Neverminding questions about what she was or how anything that was happening just then was possible, she sighed impatiently. "I'm quite serious, and so is my schedule, Crispin. If you'll kindly kiss my ass so that we can move on to other business...?" There was no rest-of-that-sentence. It was left open-ended with an upward inflection, like all questions that aren't really questions, but instructions, are. Look at that. She even warmed up a nice spot for him, rubbing a hand in circles over the hemline that separated magenta from skin over the back of her right hip. See, she's not so bad! "Mmhm. Pucker up, and the shadows disappear. And no, no, you're right. You can't have video of this floating around out there." She'd just... let that sink in, a moment, for him.
[Crispin] "Listen you little shit...!" he blurted, an emotional outburst that showed he was not quite as calm and collected as he liked to think himself. But goddamn if she didn't get under his skin in a primal, purely female kind of way. There was just something about the way she disrespected him as a man that set his teeth on edge; and oh, the way she looked down her nose at him, over her shoulder, with her hands so expectantly on her hips! The blase, almost bored way in which she casually went about emasculating him. It was enough to make a guy crazy. But as long as those damn shadows held him...Rage! And he wore his feelings on his sleeve, doing a very poor job of hiding just how bad this was eating at him. "I...I'm sorry...Fuck...What other business?" He blinked up at her, momentarily forgetting the pain in his back as he considered what she meant. Wasn't this going to be the end of it? But no sooner did he contemplate this than his mind began to dwell on her comment about the video. One word: blackmail. Can you imagine? A video of Crispin kissing her ass, on social media, youtube, and google? Any search would bring up that image, that video. He'd never be able to show his face again! It was then he realized this was checkmate. But what choice did he have? There was no getting out of this until he did it. And so....He leaned forward and closed his eyes, puckering up and pressing his lips against the warm spot of flesh she guided him towards, kissing her ass. On...film....Immediately his shoulders slumped and his face felt like it was on fire. He stared down at the ground, his heart thumping wildly in his chest. Was he about to cry? Scream? For a moment, he was utterly speechless. Quite simply, the guy was h-u-m-i-l-i-a-t-e-d.
[Rose] He must have become very fond of her laugh in the short time they'd been acquainted! He'd inspired it yet again with another one of his little pet names for her. Again, Crispin's questions were ignored, and Rose just watched him with every expectation that he accept the bargain being so generously offered to him. The cold sent goosebumps racing up the backs of her thighs, and she might have further complained had he not finally caught on. A pleasant, "Mm," hummed between her lips as a hand reached back to issue his abused hair a smooth back before she was hiking her britches back up with efficiency that had not been deployed while tugging them down. "There. Was that so bad? I thought it was sort of nice." Rose swiveled to snatch her phone up, stop its video application and tuck it not in her pocket, where Crispin might have thought to try to snatch it from once he was free, but down the front of the aforementioned britches. The shadows restraining him slithered back into the nooks and crannies they'd slithered out of. Rose crossed her arms over her chest and watched him carefully. "I trust you'll keep your cell phone on you," she commented dryly. "In case I need anything."
[Crispin] Her laughter was quickly becoming the sound he hated most in the world, for it usually meant she was getting the better of him. Slowly, Crispin eased back away from her, the look of shame undeniable on his face; a grown man, brought to his knees and made supplicant to a woman a decade his junior. He was a disgrace! Women, he knew, were naturally weaker than men, not the other way around! And oh, that smoothing back of his hair! It was all he could do to choke back a sob and repress any other revealing sound that might slip out. "Of course you thought it was nice...It was your ass being kissed....That can never happen again..." he said, kind of like a warning, but coming off more as a request. Finally the shadows released him. And yes, he eyed that phone like a hawk, obviously desperate to delete the footage saved in its memory. Crispin tried not to think about everything that had happened. Tellingly, he couldn't look her in the eyes after that. "Honestly, I was kind of hoping never to see you again, Rose... What's done is done. I learned my lesson." He rose to his feet. "Let's just end it at this.."
[Rose] That can never happen again. Rose just smiled. Oh, she smiled, even lifting a hand to give the side of Crispin's face a gentle pat once he'd pulled himself to his feet as though she held some great fondness for him. It was a stark reminder of how small, how feminine she was in comparison to him. "Don't be silly," she sighed. "You kissed me and told me that you loved me. You're mine, now." With that, she backed away, eyebrows riding high on her forehead in an expression that couldn't have been any more amused if it tried, hands finding the pockets in her coat and seeking warmth. "I'll be in touch, Prince Charming." Then Rose was gone.