01-20-2019, 05:42 PM
He snaked closer and plucked the bottle from her grip. Predictably covetous. Part of her welled with the eternal mother’s scold for how eagerly he took that gold wrapped gift. He had no reason to mistrust her, of course, having believed her duly invited by his own hand, but did he truly think tonight’s antics would not come with swift retribution? It’s not only crones who come bearing poison apples, sweetie. A pleased smile teased her lips, like she glowed beneath his approval
How fortunate for him he didn’t have to fear for his life. Not tonight. It would have been too easy.
“Infamy has its perks.” She winked, and watched unseen currents prepare the drinks.
Lessons came in many forms. Technically she only need impart how consequences rippled around him, and would continue to do so the longer he strayed along this defiant path. But that easy arrogance suggested it might not be enough to connect the dots. Would he care that his irreverence cost a friend his life? Even faux dismissal would be disappointing. And personal peril had a bit more bite -- not the inelegant sort that left bruises, but the kind that wrapped shadows in the mind. The kind he would be inclined to remember.
The luxury he reclined in. The vodka he savoured. The whores he fucked. It was the hand of the Custody that kept him so well fed.
That he would do well to remember.
She laughed and wrapped a slender palm around the glass, twisting it in her grip as though expecting strings. “You’re a channeler,” she accused, tone more charmed than afraid. A little pressure eased the barrier of his thighs enough to claim space on his lap, knees straddled snug against his hips. “Is that really a question, or are we making small talk first?” She leaned to deposit her drink within easy reach, then trailed her thumbs around the neck of his tshirt; one deliciously warm, the other chilled from the glass. “What else can you do with that power, huh?”
How fortunate for him he didn’t have to fear for his life. Not tonight. It would have been too easy.
“Infamy has its perks.” She winked, and watched unseen currents prepare the drinks.
Lessons came in many forms. Technically she only need impart how consequences rippled around him, and would continue to do so the longer he strayed along this defiant path. But that easy arrogance suggested it might not be enough to connect the dots. Would he care that his irreverence cost a friend his life? Even faux dismissal would be disappointing. And personal peril had a bit more bite -- not the inelegant sort that left bruises, but the kind that wrapped shadows in the mind. The kind he would be inclined to remember.
The luxury he reclined in. The vodka he savoured. The whores he fucked. It was the hand of the Custody that kept him so well fed.
That he would do well to remember.
She laughed and wrapped a slender palm around the glass, twisting it in her grip as though expecting strings. “You’re a channeler,” she accused, tone more charmed than afraid. A little pressure eased the barrier of his thighs enough to claim space on his lap, knees straddled snug against his hips. “Is that really a question, or are we making small talk first?” She leaned to deposit her drink within easy reach, then trailed her thumbs around the neck of his tshirt; one deliciously warm, the other chilled from the glass. “What else can you do with that power, huh?”