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Post by Pinkie on Sept 7, 2009 20:46:57 GMT
Gypsy did not take his refusal in any other way than what he meant it. She was not one to see ghosts or insults, shadows to people's words. She took people for their face value and Mark, at face value, was all kinds of amazing to Gypsy. He was obviously tired, more than likely he was sore, and he was going through something that she had no idea about but he still made her feel welcome. For some reason she always had the feeling that she was ... encroaching when it came to Mark. When she was with him it felt like he never wanted her company to be gone, that he never wanted to stop talking with her and laughing and joking with her - but when she was not with him and was thinking about him and wanting to make some sort of contact with him, she always felt that it would be ... intruding. Somehow. Which is why she had left teh door cracked just a little upon entering his room. As he commented on drowning in the tub, the young woman snorted in amusement and looked down at the cover on the bed, plucking at it idly with blunt fingertips. When she asked him if everything was ok the silence stretched until she had convinced herself, scathingly, that she aught not to have asked. That feeling of encroaching on him was there with gusto and a cold squirming in her stomach made her feel rather ill until... Until Mark stood up. Gypsy looked after him, seeing his shiver and she parted her lips, reaching out a useless hand to stop him as he walked away from her. She felt she had crossed a line, possibly she had hopped skipped and spat on the line on the way and felt true remorse for it. But Mark pulled the quilt tighter about himself and extended his hand back towards her. Gypsy's mouth snapped shut and she looked at the weathered hand in surprise. She took his hand. What else could she do? He walked her to the rug in front of the fire and sat down - Gypsy remained standing beside him, looking down at the orange shimmer on his dewy shoulders. Strong hands were clutched into the rug behind him and his neck was extended as he tipped his head back. The young woman remained standing, feeling a little awkward as she looked down at him. The question surprised her. To be honest she knew she deserved it. She had encroached and he encroached back. Immediately her defenses came slamming down and her stomach flipped. Her dark eyes lifted from the slick contours of his chest and she looked into the fire with the evidence of guilt across her young features. "No.." she lied and frowned, folding an arm over her flat stomach, pressing her other elbow against that forearm and tugging on her bottom lip nervously. Blinking quickly, she parted her lips and nodded her head - "Well, yes." she admitted, shrugging a small shoulder as she breathed an awkward laugh. "I mean I have a guy, a . . . a husband, actually." the woman said, her voice becoming hoarse and her forehead breaking out in a cold sweat at the admission. A brave smile curled her lips into a smile as she looked down at Mark, imploring him not to ask anything too much about that husband she had flatly denied initially. With pixie like grace, Gypsy's legs folded beneath her and she sat down on the rug with Mark. His legs stretched out between her and the fire but she didn't mind - she wasn't cold. Her wrists rested on her bent knees and her hands dangled downwards, fingers touching the plush rug idly. "What's that to do with those sad eyes of yours though?" she asked, hoping the impish smile on her face did not look too strained as she looked at Mark. The cares of his lfe were plainly coloring his gentle eyes and Gypsy fought hard not to reach over and touch the shadowed side of his cheek to comfort him. It felt a little wrong to pry on him when she was so reluctant to admit to her own attachments. Though her need to keep her husband out of her mind was more to do with her own sanity than anything else. She didn't want to think about him here ,she didn't want to admit to the things he did out here where she could pretend he was not in her life at all. "You can tell me to butt out if you have to Sir, you know I won't be offended. It just... I just..." she stopped and shook her head, short cropped hair dangling about her slender neck as she propped her elbow onto her knee and plopped her chin into her palm, smiling at Mark with a twinkle in her brown eyes. "My insatiable curiosity will be the death of me." she admitted with a half-groan, rolling her eyes at herself though quietly, secretly, she hoped he wuold tell her what was up. |
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Post by Bogwoppit on Sept 9, 2009 12:11:33 GMT
DJ was actually having difficulty believing this was really happening... it had all taken on a dreamlike quality the moment she had entered the room and found him in the tub. He wasn't a complete innocent - far from it, but his line of work and his dedication to the life he led tended to preclude chances of a relationship lasting longer than a date or two. Generally the women he met were through work, and they didn't tend to stick around long once they discovered his sensitive nature and poetic soul which always seemed so at odds with his soldiering abilities in the field. He was also well aware of the adulation the youg girl was feeling for him, and it made him on the one hand slightly smug, but on the other hand a little uncomfortable. It would be so easy to take advantage of her now, and by far the larger part of him wanted to do just that, especially as this whole situation seemed to be heading the way of one of the fantasy novels he enjoyed so much. He smiled into his bare knees where he rested his chin on them, sensing her shyness and inexperience where matters of this nature were concerned. That was what most appealed - her obvious innocence, the maiden who needed rescuing from the dragon, or in this case, the Ogre, the fairytale Cinderella to his prince... He laughed, his shoulders shaking as he tried to suppress it, his own foolish romantic notions amusing him. It was all just so unreal... any minute now he would wake up in a trench with the rain turning the ground to mud and bullets flying round his head as he tried to defend some god-forsaken island the government had taken it upon themselves to 'help'. He often had to pinch himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming when they were off-world, but this had to be the best one ever. Watching Mari move so lightly across to the bed he swallowed and narrowed his eyes. So bloody young... but she was also so bloody gorgeous... Christ if he was West he'd already have her in bed. He allowed himself to imagine what her body would feel like beneath him for a moment, soft and tender and yielding... brown eyes closed and head tipped back in ecstacy... A small whimper escaped DJ's dry throat involuntarily as she practically voiced his very daydream, and he gulped some air painfully to stop himself getting any more aroused. If she was walking back over here with that towel then at some point he was going to have to get out of the bath. Sure enough she approached him and held the towel out, and he thanked God that she was demure enough to turn her face away as he stood up. He didn't want to frighten the poor girl away... or worse, have her laugh at him. That would be more than he could bear. He stepped out of the now cold water and took the towel gratefully from her, rubbing his chest partially dry before wrapping it around his narrow hips. "Thanks," he said, smiling down at her. "Erm..." How could he answer that without having her think he didn't care about her personally? A scene which could have been from one of his favourite books flashed through his mind, and before he could reason with himself not to act upon it he did. "To tell the truth I would have done the same for anyone, it's what I'm trained for," he said, taking a small step towards her so that her face was mere inches from his damp chest. "But I wouldn't do this for anyone else..." He reached up a hand and placed one strong, blunt finger beneath her delicate chin, lifting her face up to look at him. Gazing for a moment deep into those arresting brown eyes, he slowly lowered his face to hers and kissed her softly on her full, soft lips. Part of him thought how cool this would look in a movie, but most of him didn't think at all now, acting purely on instinct. Pulling back for a brief second he studied her face, marvelling at the texture of her skin, the sweep of her dark lashes. And then he kissed her once again, light, slow, lingering kisses, on her lips, the corner of her mouth, her jaw, just beneath her ear lobe and down the fine muscle in the side of her neck to her collar bone. For perhaps the first time in this sort of situation DJ felt in control. |
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Post by Bogwoppit on Sept 9, 2009 14:17:31 GMT
There were two types of women as far as Joe West knew - women who had way too much confidence and thought they could have anything they desired by fluttering their eyelashes at the nearest good-looking man, and those who had no confidence in themselves, who needed taking care of and nuturing. Elendur at first he had placed firmly in the first catagory. Here was a woman who had always had anything and everything she desired, who was used to ordering people around and getting her own way, who did not need to try too hard. Tonight however he had begun to see a different side to her. Gone was the confidence with which she carried herself so proudly ever since they had arrived here. She still spoke with the superiority of genuine aristocracy, but he could tell she was lost, out of her depth, unsure how to react to all she had seen. He had seen it before in people who had come through a war, watched their loved ones get slaughtered, and he knew how disorienting it was. He pitied her, but he also knew she needed toughening up if she was to survive what was to come. Anyone else might have taken her straight back to her father, allowed her women folk to attend to her every need, but that would be too easy and she would learn nothing from it. Not to mention that West quite enjoyed having something pretty to look at, and her attitude amused him. All this he thought as he lay quite relaxed on the bed, eyes closed, arms loosely curved beneath his head. The tattoos on his upper arms gleamed soft black in the glow of the fire, and he was vaguely aware of the specks of drying Orc-blood on his forearms and face tightening his skin. He heard the rustle of fabric, and hid a smirk, then sensed her still and struggle with some inner conflict before her slight shadow fell across his prone body. West's smirk widened into a smile, and he opened his eyes to look up at her, taking in the bare pale flesh of her shoulders and her arm clasped across her breast. She tried so hard to appear in control... or perhaps she wasn't trying at all - all her life she had been in control, old habits died hard. He could tell from the set of her shoulders and the tension around her mouth that she was unsure of herself, and he knew a moment of genuine tenderness for this haughty, cold young woman. His skin flinched as she touched him, and he drew in a sharp breath at the feel of her small hand flattening against his sores. Before then he had hardly been aware of his injuries, used as he was to the consequences of battle. Now though her touch seemed to make his flesh super sensitive, and he felt his stomach muscles tighten, goose bumps rising across his ribs. "Yup," he replied, sitting up and putting his hand over hers where it lay against his side, thus preventing her from removing it. For a long moment he gazed deep into her marvellous azure eyes, rubbing his thumb softly against the tender skin of her inner wrist. Then he grinned, green eyes wrinkling at the corners as he glanced down at her ample cleavage and back up to her lips. "You wanna rub some ointment in for me?" He partly said it to break the tension that buzzed in the air around them, and partly because he thought it would do her good to have to perform some menial task, a task which no doubt she had always had performed for her rather than doing it for someone else. Because those bruises sure did hurt, and it was so rare for him to have someone to take care of his hurts that he was going to make the most of it, even if Elendur of Gondor was just about the last person to know how to take care of anyone else. |
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Post by Bogwoppit on Sept 9, 2009 20:34:18 GMT
For a minute Mark thought he had overstepped the boundary with Gypsy when she remained standing. After the night before, not to mention all the time on the road on the way here, he assumed she would feel as comfortable as he did in each other's company. But maybe it was a bit odd - him half naked and just out of the bath, inviting her to stretch out on a fur rug in front of a roaring fire... He smiled and let out a breath of ironic laughter. Talk about a cliche! Mark brought his head up so quickly that he choked on saliva as it slid down his throat he and coughed, staring at her wide-eyed. His amazed blue eyes followed her movements as she slid gracefully down into a cross-legged position beside him, the small initial denial forgotten in the revelation which followed. Married??? How could she be married for Chrissake? She was too young! Then he mentally shook himself. She was old enough to fight for her country, and indeed her planet, she was old enough to protect innocent women and children against monsters, risking her life for people she didn't even know... of course she was old enough to get married. But... but... he just couldn't imagine it... To tell the truth he couldn't imagine anyone on the Stargate program married and settled. The whole lifestyle didn't suit a family existence. Of course, that line of thought inevitably brought him back to Thrace, and Molly, and the sacrifice she hadn't been prepared to make for their daughter. No, that wasn't fair. Mark was lucky to have his mother to take care of Molly while he was away... having a daughter hadn't stopped him doing the job he loved. But then, his job didn't generally include risking his life... Mark continued to stare at the bright-eyed grinning face before him, but despite her smile he thought he could detect a hint of strain in her voice, a determination to change the subject, and his curiosity was piqued. What young married woman didn't want to talk about her husband whenever they got the chance? And it couldn't just be about her concern for him... But above his curiosity his sense of honor won the day. If she didn't want to talk then so be it. Maybe one day he could broach the subject again... maybe if he told her his problems then she might reciprocate. Eventually he shrugged and closed his mouth, looking down at his lap. He was more or less dry by now, and the quilt had fallen off his shoulders onto the floor behind him, leaving him bare from the waist up. He was not the sort of man to generally wander around half naked in front of women, but he didn't feel uncomfortable now. "Far be it from me to be the cause of your death," he grinned self-consciously, and reached up a hand to brush a piece of tickling hair off his forehead. "I think I probably did that enough today already." For a minute he was silent, thinking about earlier events, and also realising just how much more comfortable he was sitting here with Gypsy than he had been an hour before stressing with Katee. Their whole relationship had been stressy when he thought back on it. Everything so intense, too much too soon, a burn-out waiting to happen... and happen it had. He sighed, and turned his head to gaze into the fire. "Do you have any kids?" he asked without looking at her, and without really expecting an answer. "I have a little girl... Molly. She's... beautiful." He smiled as he pictured her blonde curls and happy smiling face, eyes so much like her mother's, smile so much like his own. "She lives with me - my Mom's taking care of her while I'm away... " He wanted to tell her about Molly's mother, about his falied relationship with Katee Thrace, but somehow he couldn't find the words, couldn't say what he wanted to without being disloyal to everything they had once shared. He didn't often talk about himself and his problems anyway, he was generally the one in control, the one who helped others with their own problems. This was weird... |
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Post by Pinkie on Sept 10, 2009 20:50:22 GMT
That he thought of overpowering her and having his way with her was one of the reasons Thrace was there right now. She wanted the challenge that he offered. With Lake he guranteed her something more to take away after they had finished fucking - because that was all it was, to both of them. There was no miscommunications or misunderstandings, he was not going to turn around tomorrow and pretend it didnt happen and she would not have to excuse that it had happened. He would accept this for what it was and he would be fucking happy with it too. The blonde atched as he closed his eyes and she looked down at his neck in that moment, at the throbbing vein in his neck as he took a deep breath. Her hazel eyes moved to is face and she pressed her hips down against his, fingers caressing the bulge behind his zip, also aware of the pain it might cause, but willing, darkly, to accept that pain as part of their coupling. He lifted his hands away frmo her and extended his arms above his head in an arrogant show of surrender. The beauty being... he wasn't all hers. For right now, for as long as what she wanted was the same as what he wanted they could be together. But he was not hers and she was not his. Thrace smiled at his surrender and gave a husky laugh, lowering her face so close to his that she could see the darker flecks in his blue eyes. "Oh I fucking will, Lake. I am going to take and take - and you know what? I intend to keep on taking even when you can't give any longer." she growled, sinking her lips against his and kissing him roughly. Her hand moved away from his cock and she slid them up under his t-shirt, worming up towards his shoulders adn shoving the material out of the way. Even before it was tugged off over his head she was leaning her pretty blonde head down to kiss and bite at the golden scattering of wiry chest hair that was hidden beneath. The scent of him was raw, pure and carnal - it was male. Smoke and sweat and dust and the bare suggestion of whatever soap he had used the last time he took a bath. Thrace lapped it up, skooching her backside down to sit on his thighs as she continued nipping relentlessly at his chest, flicking her tongue against the prominent line of his hip bone while her fingers pulled down his zip, her other hand undoing his belt and button. Sitting up straight the blonde whipped off her own t-shirt. The straps of her black bra criss-crossed her pale back as she bent her head once more, golden hair falling forward as she shamelessly reached inside the Captain's trousers and wrapped her sure fist around his stiff cock. She did not make eye contact once as she wordlessly slipped her mouth around the top of his rigid member and sucked... hard. As if in apology for the harshness of her lips she slid him further into her mouth and then slowly, sensuously, slid him out again, tasting the entire length of him with her shifting tongue. Hazel eyes were sharp and piercing, unforgiving and dark as she looked up the man's wiry strong body to his blue eyes. Thrace slid one leg off the bed, off Lake, and placed her foot on teh ground between his legs. She placed her other foot down then and, with her mouth still around his manhood, she shimmied off her fatigues, the matching black of her underwear contrasting darkly with her pale skin. "When were you last with a woman, Lake? Hmm? When's the last time you felt as alive as you do right now?" she asked, grinning at him darkly, a hand still around the shaft of his, admittedly, impressive cock, as she kissed her way from his hips to his chest and lay her warm, supple body down along hte length of his, pressing his manhood between her thighs, feeling the heat of his desire through the scant matieral of her knickers. There was a challenging tone to her voice, an arrogance that begged to be set to rights. She was gumming for a fight and was intent on stirring Lake to it, to make rile him up a little. |
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Post by Pinkie on Sept 13, 2009 21:12:09 GMT
Yes she was young and she incredibly vulnerable. Mari had one person in the world and that was her father who did not care a fiddler about her. That he had so ruthlessly turned his back on her, and repeatedly turned his back on her whenever she attempted to be a daughter, Mari had two choices - become a bitter, scathing and distrusting wretch of a woman, or become the sweet, vulnerable and loving girl that she was. It was never much of an option really. DJ had saved her life and proven himself brave and selfless. Mari was more than enamoured - she was starstruck and overawed by his consideration of her - a consideration that was far overdue in her life. The young woman looked at him with wide brown eyes full of adoration. She was putty in his hands and trusted him without a thought not to. All her life she had been searching for someone to save her and he had. In more ways than one. That she should serve him was without question! Mari heard the water splash as he stood and she shut her eyes, holdng her breath as he wrapped himself in the towel and murmured a thanks to her shy form. She blushed at that and half-turned away, almost embarrassed by what she had told him. It was silly - silly to think that he might not have done what he had for another. And yet Mari hoped that he would not have, she hoped that it was just her that he would have saved. A rampant, shameless cliche! ... on Earth. Mari was swept along on the romantic ideal of what he said, her momentary disillusionment at his admission to saving any other squashed by the touch of his soft lips on hers. His hand was against her jaw and Mari felt the skin prickle there. Her eyes fluttered shut and her lips parted willingly to his kiss. It sent a buzzing heat throughout her body and she felt her chest tighten, her body tipping forward until she raelised she was holding her breath and following his lips as he withdrew. Gasping a breath, Mari fell back onto the flats of her feet, her hands over his shoulders but not touching his skin. She rocked back onto her heels and placed a hand to her chest, heaving in a stunned breath as she looked directly at the man's chest before her. "Dj...!" she whispered in awe, glancing up at him. He was leaning in and kissed her again, gentle kisses, many little tiny gentle kisses that made her feel used to his touch, almost. But it was an entirely new experience for Mari - all of it. Men had no interest in her wistful tones and fancies nor her willowy body which held none of the allure and attraction that Elendur's did. She was thin, almost to the point of being scrawny. When DJ's lips trailed away from hers and down along her jaw and to her ear, Mari felt dizzy. She had no idea what to do with her hands and so they remained a few inches above DJ's shoulders until he kissed her beneath the ear. The sensation was electric and Mari gasped, dizzily falling in against the man's chest, her hands on his moist shoulders and her aproned body pressed against his. She could feel he was cold from the shower and ducked her head into the crook of his neck. Oh she was too shy to initiate a kiss upon him, even his shoulder though her lips were so close! Mari slid her hand around the back of DJ's neck, soft and uncertain in her caresses and she spoke against his throat in a whispery breath - "DJ I don't know what to do. I've never, .. " she began, fingers moving up into the hair at the nape of his neck without thought, her other hand smoothing along his strong shoulders. |
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Post by Pinkie on Sept 13, 2009 21:28:45 GMT
Elendur thought herself above needing a man. She knew men as patriarchs, as protectors and brothers and providers. It never struck the woman that there would be any other facet to men - that there might be some enjoyment out of their presence, or that her heart might be engaged by a man, or that a man could be anything other than patriarch, protector, brother or provider. She had never desired to be with men because she did not understand, truly, the relationships between men and women. Oh she knew what went on between the sheets of course! But the rest of the 'stuff' that a man and woman could share she was ignorant about. As she stood before Joe West, vulnerable and mesmerised, Elendur was learning. He challenged her but gently, and rather sweetly too if she was to think on it a little. Such challenges the steward's daughter was entirely unused to. When she reacted she felt... awkward. Clumsy. When his breath hitched at her tough the woman paused, glancing up at his face curiously. She had her head tilted to the side, a certain icy aloofness in her expression still. Her question had been serious - it had been about life and death and matters very heavy and grave. Elendur's tone and unsmiling face was testament to this - she expected Joe West to reply in the same mood. But her unsmiling face darkened as he quipped without too much consideration for the fact that he was agreeing that it DID hurt. Elendur felt annoyed by the flippant attitude he displayed when it came to his body and how it might hurt. Didn't he mind that it hurt?! Why didn't he mind?! The blonde's brows twitched into a frown and her lips pulled tight as she prepared to scold him for being so negligent of his body and feelings, not realising, of course, how silly her admonition would sound. But any admonition would have to wait - Joe West placed his hand over the back of hers as he sat up, holding her palm against his strong stomach as the muscles contracted and tightened until he sat up before her. The blonde's mouth hung open and her fingers stiffened - an automatic reaction to any man 'making a move' on her. Though his way of doing it was entirely out of the ordinary. He rubbed a thumb against the inside of her wrist. The hairs on the back of Elendur's neck stood up and she shivered in, what she thought was cold, but which undeniably was attraction as she met Joe's eyes. His question, however, rubbed her the wrong way and she gaped at him in shock that he would ask her, her!, to rub ointment into his hurts. Elendur pulled her hand away and stepped away from West, turning her back to him in an impressive show of snobby insult. "Joe West!" she declared in an affronted gasp. She pulled one strap of her dress up over her shoulder, still holding the rest of the matieral against her chest as she stalked a step away and whirled back around, taking two steps back to West, standing closer to him now than when she had started and looked up at him. Her eyes burned, her body burned and she put it down to anger at his insult - but in truth, and it was easily read in her blazing eyes, that what was going on was desire and attraction - not insult. "How dare you ask me to ... ! How .. What do you think I am? I am the daughter of .. of .. I am the daughter..!" her tongue was twisted and knotted and became worse the longer she met his smouldering eyes, her chest rising and falling hard with affront. And then to totally confuse matters she plucked up the courage to scold him for being so flippant about his body as she had intended to do earlier... "Have you no thought to taking care of your body instead of being so presumptuous?! You will find an early grave if you do not take more care in yourself - you cannot just go around being wounded and uncaring if it hurts or not. You say it hurts like it doesn't matter if you are in pain or something!" she babbled on, standing almost on his toes, her chin proudly uplifted and her hand, unknowingly, moving to lay flat against his chest, her tiny fingers dwarfed by the breadth of his body. |
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Post by Bogwoppit on Sept 14, 2009 22:13:18 GMT
Her aggression didn't surprise him in the slightest. What did surprise the fuck out of him though was his intense response. He wanted her. He really fucking wanted her, and Lake really desiring a woman had been unheard of for a very long time. Last night had been good, but it had been more of a punishment than genuine desire on his part, a chance to prove... something to her, although why he needed to prove anything to her when he couldn't give a fuck what the rest of the world thought of him was beyond him. He hadn't thought about it too much. Her lips crushing down on his mouth felt so bloody good, and his resolve to lay still nearly left him. He still held onto a modicum of control however, instead gripping the feather quilt above his head tightly with both hands as she kissed him. He growled low in his throat, nipping at her bottom lip as she pulled away and grinning wickedly as he felt her hands cool on his heated stomach. Lifting himself up slightly, he made it easy for her to pull his shirt off over his head, and hissed in a lungful of cold air as she grazed his chest with her teeth. His cock strained against his fly, he groaned at the thought of burying himself deep inside her, and his resolve broke... ... but just as he lifted his hands from the quilt to reach down and grab her she unzipped his trousers, freeing his iron-hard member. "Jesus Fuck!" he exploded as she sucked him hard, then groaned long and low at the gentler touch of her lips. Looking down along the length of his heated body to watch her, he marveled for an instant at his own ability to keep it up. That in itself had been unheard of for... longer than he wanted to remember. He had studiously avoided women for the past few years, preferring the company of a bottle. The few who had come on to him in bars had got short shrift from him, and on the odd occasions he had allowed himself to be persuaded home with someone he had been a complete flop... literally. A lot of his inability to perform had of course been due to being permanently pissed, but mostly it had to do with Marianne. He dragged his thoughts back to the present before they could even go there, and swallowed roughly at the sight of Thrace wriggling herself free of her trousers. Her pale, lithe figure seemed at odds with her attitude... she looked... feminine... His cock twitched again as she lifted her head from it to look up into his hooded eyes. He tensed, her question way too fucking close to the bone, his wayward thoughts of moments before crowding back to fill his mind. As she slid back along the length of his body he stiffened, his jaw clenched, his eyes dark. The last time he had been with a woman... well that would be his wife, at least, anything that counted. His wife who died because he was pissed at the wheel of their car, taking their two little girls with her. Lake grit his teeth to control the raging urge to grab Thrace by the throat and throw her off him. The tattoo on his chest over the place where his heart used to be prickled and burned, and his erection, far from shrinking at the memories, grew if anything even larger, pressing itself painfully against her hip. His anger had a life of its own, causing his hands to shake and his body crave a drink. Lake reared up and threw Thrace down on her back on the bed, holding her wrists above her head and crushing her with his weight as he glared down at her. "Don't ever fucking ask me that," he growled, ominously quiet, and brought his mouth down on hers in a crushing kiss that must have bruised her lips,grinding his hips against her equal roughness. |
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Post by Bogwoppit on Sept 15, 2009 15:00:59 GMT
DJ wasn't a wimp, he had had his share of women. Neither was he an absolute bastard who would take advantage of anything in a skirt that came his way. He was a little wary of women, partly because of his natural shyness and partly because of a couple of bad experiences, but he was on the whole a decent guy. He was definitely no angel though, and when an opportunity presented itself he wasn't about to turn it down. Here was an opportunity of the first degree, even he could see that. Here was an obviously innocent girl, maybe never having been kissed before, beautiful, grateful, soft and warm... And she was kissing him back. What sort of man could turn that down? Especially a man who was more used to being Robin to West's Batman than being the main attraction himself. He longed to be cool like Kawalsky, cute like West, even 'a challenge' like Lake, but all he had ever been was... nice. But now... now he was a hero. This pretty young thing gazed at him adoringly like she couldn't believe he was interested in her. How could that be? She was lovely... fine, delicate, vulnerable... all the things women on Earth tended not to be these days. Surely she had men flocking to her to take care of her? Even the way she breathed his name stirred him, although as he began to kiss her again a prickle of conscience nagged at the back of his mind. He should be careful... he didn't want to hurt her... they would be gone soon, and she was the kind of girl who was looking for true love, the forever kind. He couldn't promise her that. He should stop. But her skin was so soft, and smelled so good... She breathed softly against the crook of his neck as she snuggled against him, so trusting, and he lifted his head slightly to look sideways down at her through lowered eyelashes. So sweet, dark hair spilling loose from its restraint, long dark lashes sweeping pale, fine cheekbones. His hands on her narrow waist almost encircled her so thin was she, but that just made DJ want her all the more. He was warm now despite standing there with barely a stitch on, her delicate fingers causing shivers down his back as she ran them through his short hair. He closed his eyes and tipped his head back, breathing slowly in, then out while he tried to form a coherent thought. He. Should. Stop. "Oh God..." he moaned quietly, losing all sense of reason. He crushed her against him, big hands cupping the cheeks of her small round bottom through the rough wool of her dress. He tipped his hips forward, the erection which had been threatening since she came into his room fully fledged now and pressing against her belly. He didn't want to frighten her, but those words completely shattered what remained of his self-control. "Mari..." he breathed against her ear as he tipped his head forward to hers. He kissed her softly, flicking his tongue out to catch the tip of her lobe and running it up around the edge of her ear. "Let me teach you..." Another cliche...? Perhaps, but he was beyond caring, and if all the corny lines from all the movies he had ever seen had come back to him now he probably would have used them if it got him what he wanted. Of course, he wasn't aware of just how innocent and unworldly she actually was. He had a clue... the society here pointed at girls remaining untouched until marriage, at old-fashioned values and medieval prejudice. But he didn't know her background, he didn't know just how much she craved the attentions of a man... a father-figure... to make up for her own less than caring one. He began to walk sideways towards the wide bed, taking her gently in his arms to guide her. Not at all sure he would be able to remain gentle for long, he was determined to try, and if she would give herself to him he would make sure she didn't regret it. |
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Post by Bogwoppit on Sept 16, 2009 13:36:36 GMT
 Had West known Elendur's thoughts on his injuries, and his attitude towards them, he would have laughed, thus probably infuriating her all the more. It wasn't that he didn't care about his hurts, or had a cavalier attitude towards his health - the truth was that he had been near to death on so many occassions that he had stopped counting a long time ago. The injuries, illnesses and changes he had sustained at the hands of the Goauld, various alien technology, even the Wraith, not to mention more down to earth weapons such as, oh... guns, made these few bruises look like gnat bites. If she had chanced to walk around him and take a look at his back, she would have seen a bullet hole scar just above one kidney, an old knife wound which had just missed his spine and thus his spinal cord, and what looked like fang marks on his neck, but which were actually a scar from a Goauld electric cattle prod, as they called them back home. Yes, West cared about his health, but he had resigned himself long ago to being used as a punch bag for alien species. Her affrontery at such a suggestion made him smile, and he watched her almost indulgently, as a parent would watch a wayward child throwing a tantrum. His confident gaze swept down over her bare shoulders to the tantalizing glimpse of the dip in her backbone, the instant before she pulled up her dress. Her pale skin was perfect, as was her slim figure, and for a moment before she turned around his gaze was nothing like that which a parent would give a child. His green eyes glittered as she stopped before him, challenging her icy glare, just a hint of desire now touching the amusement evident in his steady gaze. He had her, of that he was sure. If he took hold of her now and threw her onto the bed she would succumb to his advances, and the short struggle with which she would attempt to cover her offended pride would make the prize all the more worth winning. He wouldn't force her course; Joe West had never had to force any female to make love in his life. He would merely use his charms and expertise to woo her, and he knew damn well she would never forget the experience. But maybe... just maybe it would be worth waiting a little longer. He knew she wanted him whether or not she had admitted it to herself yet. He could tell by the look in her eyes, the tilt of her chin and the set of her shoulders. But sometimes the chase was the best part, and sometimes the longer it took the better it was when they finally gave in. Her touch on his chest was electric, but to West it was just one more indication that she wanted him. That, and the smouldering look in her eyes as they flashed angrily up at him. He shrugged, and turned away from her, mirroring her movement of earlier as he sat back down to pull his boots on. "Oh I care about myself well enough. But today was nowhere near as close to death as I have been before, believe me," he replied casually as he stood once more, moving to the bath and dipping a hand in before walking towards the door. "Maybe I should take you back to your room, this water's cold now. Wouldn't want you to be catching a chill now would we... miss." He smirked over his shoulder at her as her pulled the door open, waiting for her to make a move. If she refused to leave he would be certain, although he was pretty damn sure already, that she wanted him. If she stormed out he would be even more sure. One thing he was sure of - that his indifference would throw her. She was used to men falling at her feet and treating them like dogs. But this was one man who wouldn't accept that kind of treatment so easily. He wasn't about to dance to her tune, and in any case, he was tired, more tired than he was about to admit. Yes, he could lure her into his bed right now, of that he had no doubt, but whether he would be able to perform to the best of his ability was something he wasn't prepared to put to the test. ((Ooc: I was beginning to think all my men (except Lake of course!!) were too nice!!!  )) |
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Post by Pinkie on Sept 19, 2009 15:29:15 GMT
Gypsy managed to grin down Mark's surprise at her admission of marriage. She knew precisely what he was thinking at that moment in time and merely continued to grin. In truth she agreed with what he was thinking. She was too young to be married - she had been too young. Had she waited a bit longer maybe she would have seen the true colours, or maybe she would have realised there were more men out there instead of settling on her first love or ... God but there were alot of 'ors'. The young woman cocked her head to the side and looked over at Mark, her brown eyes tinted with amusement but still somewhat shadowed. It would be easy to share with Mark, to open up to him about it all but ... didn't he think highly of her already? What would he think of her if he knew it all? He would think she was silly and weak. As he continued to stare at her with his mouth agape, the woman felt her cheeks heat a little and she continued to look at him, feeling absorbed by the kindness in his eyes, the genuine care he felt for her. Time ticked on and he still didn't speak. Gypsy's eyes dropped from his eyes to his shoulders, a little dewy from the bath still, but drying nonetheless. There was a lovely sheen to his skin in the firelight, an alluring warmth that made her want to lay her head against him. She didn't. Of course. That'd be dumb. Nice. But Dumb. With a capital 'D'. Eventually he seemed to come around and gave her a self-conscious grin... Whoa that came outta nowhere! It was Gypsy's turn to stare agape at Mark when he asked if she had children. Her eyes were unblinking and she held her breath wondering if he actually expected her to entertain that with an answer. Of course for Gypsy it was obvious she had no children - she failed to realise that her being married was probably as much of a shock to Mark as finding out she had kids too. She shook her head mutely as he continued, her shoulders sagging in gooey affection and her eyes softening in feminine admiration as Mark spoke of his little girl. "Oh Mark - I'd no idea you had a kid!" she said quietly, reaching out and touching his forearm briefly before rocking back to sit cross-legged facing his side. It was tempting, and it seemed quite natural, to ask about the mother, to ask where she was, who she was but Gypsy wasn't a total idiot. She could put the pieces together and knew that the mother was Thrace. What she didn't know, and which she'd never ask, was why he blonde Lieutenant was not ... in charge of the kid. As such. Biting the edge of her lip, Gypsy tried to find some neutral territory, something that wouldn't be prying and that wouldn't be awkward. "D'ya know - now that you mention it I can totally see you as being a dad." she gushed, "Molly's very lucky. And so's her mother." DAMN IT! Gypsy spoke the words without truly thinking them through and then tried to explain - "I mean, If I had kids, which I don't, I'd want you to be the dad... Uhm, not like that - I mean someone like you to be the dad." she had her hand lifted in the air as she spoke, a frown marring her pale forehead as she dug deeper. In the silent pause she merely looked at Mark, the fire crackling. And then she grinned. A broad, guilty smile and she shut her eyes, keeling forward over her crossed ankles and gave a squeek of laughter. "Ok ok- what I meant to say, honestly, is that Molly is very lucky to have a dad like you." Gypsy clarified, sitting up and putting her two hands out, palms forward, towards Mark in a pacifying gesture. Her shoulders shook with a laugh and she huffed out a breath of mock exhaustion. "Phew! How old is she? She must miss you when you're off-world..." the young airman asked, shifting her legs around so that she sat lengthways, a hand against the side of her head to prop herself up and her other hand draped over her hip casually. |
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Post by Pinkie on Sept 19, 2009 17:32:53 GMT
Forget him feeling alive - Thrace felt alive! She could feel the blood pumping through her youthful body, feel the heat of desire pulsing through her veins. It delighted her, it thrilled her. She had been feeling so held back, so stressed and under pressure since coming to this planet, since before! but it had been made worse by Mark showing up. Being with Lake the night before had just given her a taste of what it could be and tonight she did not plan on leaving until she had had her fill because this... this wasn't going to happen after tonight. With that in mind the blonde took it with great ease and complacency when Lake tensed beneath her. She grinned devilishly but her lips were pressed against his neck, against his shoulders, tasting his warm skin as if she had a thirst and only he could slake it. It was only a moment of blissful gloating before he reacted, rising up and twisting over so quickly she had no option but to fall onto her back, legs sprawled and her head bouncing off the mattress. She laughed. Her wrists were pinned above her head and the hard press of his hips down on hers made her groan loud and wantonly. He growled a threat at her and the blonde felt giddy, inexplicably giddy at the threat. Lake's kiss was hard and unforgiving and Thrace pressed back, lifting her head from the mattress and wrappng a hand around the back of his neck, feeling the short hairs there prickle against her palm, her teeth sunk into his lower lip and she laugehd again, her head banging back down onto the mattress. But her body did not still for a moment. Her hips gyrated against his, her feet hitched up against the backs of his thighs. Breathing raggedly, the blonde tipped her head back and caught her breath, giddiness still gleaming in her vibrant eyes. "Oh fuck Lake you are fucking sexy when you're pissed off." she told him breathily. "So.... fucking... ", she broke off in a groan of pleasure. The blonde slid her hand down along the prominent ridges of his ribs to his hip and up again, along his back, scratching her blunt nails against his warm skin. Her lips sought his again, hard. She tasted blood and gave another hoarse rasp of laughter as she realised her bite had drew blood. Thrace tipped her head forward into the crook of his neck and sucked at the skin over his collarbones, some part of her conscious that she aught to ensure any evidence of their coupling was not going to be visible the next day. West would fucking kill her. Kawalsky would never talk to her again. Mark would .... The thought of her former lover spurred Thrace onwards rather than putting her off. She clasped her hands against Lake's back and bucked her hips upwards. His trousers were still on but his rigid cock was free of it's confines. Thrace reached a hand inwards and undid the buckle of his trousers, plucking the buttons open roughly as she pushed the material away from his groin. She tilted her head to the side, looking down between their bodies to his manhood which she now held in her pale fist, stroking it confidently. |
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Post by Pinkie on Sept 19, 2009 20:34:21 GMT
Mari was truly innocent enough to not realise the effect admitting her purity would have on a man. She did worship DJ for what he had done to save her earlier, she found him to be amazing and awe-inspiring, handsome and intelligent - none of that was feigned, but the effect of her admiration on him, again, she was ignorant of. She did not realise it would prop up his confidence to such an extent. Mari assumed that all women would feel so endebted to a man who had saved their life, she assumed that women felt this way all the time. As he slid his hands down to her backside and pulled her towards him, Mari felt the hardness of his erection against her tummy and her eyes widened, her face turned into the crook of his neck still. She heard her name being whispered gently and tipped her face back a little, receiving his gentle kiss hesitantly, a flutter of bats in her stomach causing her to feel weak. Mari felt her breath hitch and her feet moved of their own accord. She nodded her head gently at his offer but inside there was a world of doubts. Not about DJ but about herself. In her head Mari was sure that DJ would stand by her, in her head this was a commital between them - not for one minute did the young woman think that DJ would be planning on upping and leaving her here. He would either stay or she would go with him - more than likely the latter. But she doubted whether or not she could learn, she doubted that she could ... please DJ. He seemed so world-wise to her, he was so confident and brave and ... "DJ -... " she breathed shyly against his lips as they arrived at the bed. Mari put her foot onto the edge of it and stood up onto the mattress, bringing her to a height above DJ, her hands on his shoulders shaking and her big brown eyes so trusting. "What if I can't...?" she ddn't know what she might not be able to do in all honesty. Her tiny fingers were against the side of the man's neck, her lithe body trembling with fear before him, her neck bent so she could look down into his face but her eyes did not meet his - she was far too shy for that. |
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Post by Pinkie on Sept 19, 2009 21:21:50 GMT
Of course he had her. Elendur was used to men wanting her, desiring her and endeavouring to capture her. She was protected by the position she held in Gondor - men would only take their advances as far as she would allow, which was never far. Anything more and men risked their lives. Denethor would have no man advance or harm or insult his daughter. But West didn't do things the way Gondorian men did. He did not respect the boundaries - and yet he did not spit on them either. He stood by the boundary of respect at times adn smirked at her with smouldering eyes, and other times he stood stiff with his back to the boundary lines so that Elendur thought he did not even see her as a woman. He had her in a tizzy of confusion. As she looked up into his eyes, feeling her heartbeat in her throat, West turned away from her as if ... as if ... He just turned away from her! The blonde's mouth dropped open and she looked after him astonished for a short time before composing herself as she whirled to face him, folding her arms under her breasts stiffly in a show of discontent - in truth it was to stop her hands shaking. The insane pity that she felt for him, the way her heart seemed to still and then ache at the thought of him facing worse battles than what she had witnessed today was overwhelming. Elendur hung her head as West walked past her towards the door. She half turned her head but her eyes did not follow him directly, merely watched him out of the corner of her eye. He opened the door and the blonde looked away, looking at the bed with the tendons in her neck strained as she held onto her dignity. Tehre was a certain sense of dismissal in the way he spoke to her, as if he... Well, as if he did not want her. As if her beauty had no hold on him or effect on him. Elendur felt quite weakened by West's mere goodwill. She was used to men falling at her feet and when West did not Elendur ... faltered. Licking her lips, the woman lifted her chin and turned. She walked stiffly to the door, past West without looking at him and stood in the hall for a moment, head bowed and body bristling with affront. But the truth of it was, she didn't want to leave him right now. She didn't want to go back to her own room right now. She didn't want to. Elendur, nostrils flared in pretty fury, turned back to West and stepped back into the threshold as he went to step out so that they stood toe to toe, chest to chest. She looked up at him with impotent fury, and lifted her hand up between them. Her heart was in her mouth as she spoke, annoyance tinging her voice. "Give me the ointment. If you have not a true care for tending to your wounds then I will do what I can and send a healer to you when I return to my room." she said, feeling somewhat cmofortable again in her role as voice of authority, making it her decision to rub the ointment into his wounds and bruises. She retained her outright dignity doing it this way. And she could remain a little longer with him. Even though he infuriated her, he made her blood boil. "I will not have your death on my conscience Joe West." she informed him haughtily, shaking her head to swish her hair over her shoulder. |
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Post by Pinkie on Sept 20, 2009 15:03:53 GMT
Kawalsky sat on the edge of his bed. His head hung low and his knees were set far apart. Two strong hands, veined and thick, hung down between his legs and shoulders which should have been the width of a horse were slumped. The fire crackled but it wasn't that cold in the room at all - not for him at least. His other self ensured he did not suffer greatly from heat or cold. The green fatigues about his thigh were tight where it was bandaged, and a dark stain showed through the blood that seeped from the open wound there. It was not sore and it would heal. It would heal within 2 or 3 days Such a wound would have disabled a normal person. The man's yellow eyes shut and he rose to his feet, wiping a strong hand against his face from forehead to chin and he groaned. The dark hair atop his head was longer than it should have been for a man who was such a stickler for regulations, but hair was yet another thing that didn't do what it aught to on a normal person. It stood in ragged spikes from rubbing against the pillow, and his black vest was rucked up his back. Walking to the washbowl, Kawalsky ducked his head into the water and blew out hard, bubbling the liquid around his ears and neck. Reaching his hands in, he rubbed at his skin hard and quick before whipping his face out of the water ad breathing in hard. It was nowhere near time to get up but he had taken to his bed earlier and he knew he would sleep no more. That meant he had to find something to occupy himself for a few hours. Leaving his jacket behind, the airman left the room, slicking his dark hair back into place as he walked the corridor. He stopped by Thrace's room and rapped on the door, leaning his ear against it to see if he could hear if she was there or not. It was silly that he wasn't hugely surprised that she didn't answer, and when he pushed open the door to see that she wasn't there either. He had been going to talk to her about .. stuff, because she was good to measure things by. Thrace was observant, as mistrusting as he was, but in a more human way. Standing by her door, Kawalsky's sensitive ears heard West who was down another corridor nearby. He couldn't see the man but he heard him, telling someone it was time to go home. The werewolf gave a wry grin and wondered which woman it was had thought to throw herself at the handsome Major. Rolling his eyes, Kawalsky headed the other direction and found a staircase. He sprinted up the steps and looked around, unsure of where he was. Following his nose, the man turned to trot up another staircase and then another - by the the time he had trotted up five staircases he was at a bolted door. With a heave he opened it and stepped out onto the battlements high above the city of Gondor. To the East there was .... a light, a ... scent. Kawalsky could not explain it but when he lifted his nose to the air and sniffed towards the East is made his hackles prickle and his lips pull back in a snarl. |
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