by Anonymous
/\nother tiresome night in the hills. Big raindrops, only slightly odd for Southern California this time of year, beat down upon the windows in a rhythmic tune. Lounging about the couch, legs flung over the back, head lulling towards the ground, Jessica Tear continues to read a torn an’ tattered copy of Burning Chrome, William Gibson’s book of short stories, until the faint sound of footsteps divert her attention. Luminous orbs of a chocolate hue shift towards the hallway.
*Thud-thump*. As they near, the sound became louder, the steps heavier. Until they deposit a spurred boot in the woman’s view, dangerously close to stepping on the chestnut tresses that swept the floor. The corners of her mouth curve slightly upward and expressing the utter amusement which overcomes her as she takes in her lover’s appearence.
; "You know, Einstein… The Ren Faire isn’t for awhile yet," her voice but a soft chuckle.
"Hmph." His grunt being the only response she gets, save his hand swatting her feet with such force it causes her legs to hit the floor, sending her body into an upright position.
"I’m bored, baby. Lets do somethin’." How could he deny that exquisite pout? That’s right. He couldn’t. No matter how hard he tried in the last few years, when the woman wanted something, she got it. However, it was rarely without some form of pointless arguing and witty banter.
After slowly raising herself, cat-like purrs befell the lucious tiers gracing her tanned countenance as she stretched her limbs. Her gaze never averted from the captivating man who was, without a doubt, the other half that made up the whole. So very different, so much the same. Never, in her two centuries plus, has she been as sure of anything as she was of him. Of who they were, and what they were.
A well-kept brow was raised at the sound. How precious she was. Nothing short of adorable did he find her adamance about keeping her humanity, especially the little things, such as her previous actions and their accompanying sounds. Although he must admit, it thoroughly annoyed him when they had first met.
Two precise steps carried his much larger frame beside Jess. A faint bow of the head allowed his distended canines access to her jaw, just below which he offered just enough pressure to allow two puncture wounds to be made.
As his lips molded around the droplets arising from the tiny holes, a soft gasp caught in her throat and quickly replaced by moans derived from the ecstasy of the pain, if that was indeed what it was. With those two, pain was always a relative thing. So very different, so very much alike. The book slipped from her grasp, and bounced from the couch to the floor, at their feet. The slender arms that had been previously raised high above her head find themselves draped on his shoulders, nimble digits embedding themselves in his short, dark hair.
Too quickly had he pulled away, the tip of his tongue gliding over the tiny breaks in her immaculate flesh. With but a smirk, his body retreated and was ascending the stairs, leaving Jessica to compose herself. Several minutes later, he returned. Clad in everyday street clothes, looking for his jacket.
"Jess, have you seen…"
"Last time I saw that thing we were in Pittsburgh." He loved when she did that. "Check the closet behind the stairs." An’ sure enough, that’s where it was.
Returning to the double sized doorway leading into the living room, he watched her as sat bent over, tying her newly acquired 8-eyed Docs. And when she was finished, she stood up an’ watched him for a moment. Watched him watch her.
"Hmm..?" Soft footsteps carried her to his side.
His eyebrows raise as his head shook. A familiar look of bemusement danced across his angular features.
"Do you have something specific in mind, or are we wingin’ it?" This question asked as he slung the trench onto his arms and across his body, sending a tiny, forgotten vile, which had been nestled deep within one of the pockets, skittering across the floor.
The quick movement coupled with the small racket the glass container makes was enough to capture both parties attention. And while it causes one a look of curiousity, it provides the other a delighted smirk.
"Oooh, I suddenly have something in mind." Knowing what his response would be, she again turns her head to him. How could he deny that pout?