-> >> Thea to Here << <-==============================================
Rolled 1 Success
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=============================-> >> Empathy + Presence No Flags << <-
GAME: Thea regain 1 Glamour
GAME: Thea regain 0.3 Glamour
Glamour.
It's like a drug.
And Thea? Well, you might say she was addicted to the stuff. Addicted to the rush. "..mmph." Thea finds herself shifting in her seat, skin flushed. Dreamily staring out across at oh-so-pretty and oh-so-angry Mavis. The inside of Mavis' trucks' cab is practically humming with energy, it's thicker with the stuff than it's ever been thick with marijuana smoke!
Unseen to Mavis, Thea's tattoos crackle and flare, little coloured motes of light spitting out from the burning, sizzling trails. Sparks in the dark. She is, in fact, sitting there and basking in Mavis' fury.
Swearing a one-sided oath like this was a total power play, and she **knew** Mavis **knew** it. Yep, she was totally winning this argument, and owning this friendship. She was in control, in charge, and she was going to make sure that Mavis stayed SAFE damn it!
Those purple eyes look to Mavis as they pull up at the stop sign. Her lips are wet. Her hands are locked behind her head. She's not just gloating, she's.. utterly satisfied. And then she's surprised.
"Ah!" She exhales sharply, surprised by Mavis grabbing a handful of her hair. Her hands fly out, roughly grabbing Mavis' shoulders. And then that kiss.
Oh, this feels good too.
A rumbling groan passes Thea's lips, playing out against Mavis' tongue. Her hands shift to stroke over Mavis' shoulders, grabbing the mortal's shirt as she drags the woman against her.
She's breathing Mavis in deep. Her kisses, surprised as they were, might as well have been little -glps-, almost drinking in the other woman. She tries to lean forward, to continue the kiss, only to be jerked back in place by her seat belt. Restrained, not just by Mavis' hand in her hair, but the belt across her shoulder, across her lap. But.. still! Amused, the tattooed punk slides her hands beneath Mavis' shirt, aiming to unclasp her bra.
This is neither the first time, nor would it be the last either, that a Lost had skimmed the surface of Mavis' emotions and sipped from that mortal well. Being harvested for Glamour was just a hazard of associating with the fae. It was a rare thing, however, to find her in such a temper, such a tremendous fury, that surely her noble outrage must be a fine delicacy. So often, Mavis denied herself the agitation that most fell prey to, good-natured and compassionate.
But, even in that kiss she's angry. Thea would be able to feel that fury pouring through, unsubdued. Her teeth are rough, lips soft, chin hard. She's heedless of seatbelts or glasses or the hand twisting into Thea's white, neon-dyed hair. Her fist closes near the scalp, twists, and she grunts a high-pitched noise-- "Nn-mph!"-- as her own seatbelt snags her back. Her other hand is at the wheel, holding it as her boot pins down the brake pedal. Mavis' eyes are closed, if someone were to pull up behind them or drive by then she wouldn't know. Or care. She kisses Thea, prompted by the soft swipe of tongue to open her mouth and taste the Lost, drink her into herself.
Hands were under her coat, beneath her hoodie. Against her skin and she's sucking in her stomach for a quick, hitched breath at the warm fingers touching her. The deft hand sliding along her ribs, up her back, to her bra and the clasp there holding it together.
Mavis' eyelids flutter opened and she snaps back, squirming to untangle herself. What the hell is she doing?! The hand in Thea's hair pulls away as if she has been suddenly burnt and she leans back to stare at the violet-eyed Lost in shock, taking deep, panting breaths.
"Jesus," she hisses, glancing up into the rearview and catching sight of her own reflection as well as the headlights from the car that has pulled up behind them. "Shit--fuck. Christ."
She makes a dry sound in her throat and the truck rolls forward, Mavis driving as if nothing had happened with her shaky hands on the big steering wheel. Now she favors the side mirrors, recalling too keenly how her face had looked with cheeks ruddy, eyes dark, and mouth slightly reddened from how roughly they'd collided.
After a short bit of driving, she huffs, "I'm still mad at you."
(Just so you know.)
Thea's a mess too. Her hair's a mess. Her lips are wet. Her glasses almost askew. And yet, she's grinning when the mortal pulls away from her, swears, and their car pulls away from the stop sign. "Still mad at me, huh?"
Thea could push it. She's tempted to tiptoe a hand along Mavis' lovely thigh. To trace her fingers along Mavis' stomach, while the woman drives. To slide her hands beneath her shirt and to caress her sides. She's tempted to just push her hand beneath Mavis' bra and to see what happens. Pinch one of her nipples, perhaps.
But the white-haired punk does none of that. She's patient instead. And when their kiss breaks, Thea knits her fingers behind her head once more, eyes forward.. staring at Mavis in the rearview mirror. Oh, yes. Thea can be patient. She's patient and simmering, practically humming with pleasure as she lets out one long and satisfied "mmm."
"Oh, Mavis. Why don't you come upstairs when you drop me home, hm? I'll show you how very sorry I am." Her words practically drip with insincerity, that rakish grin broad. A flash of bright white wolf's teeth visible behind her full lips.
She tries to dull her awareness of Thea locked in the truck cab with her. Tries to pretend that her senses weren't acutely attuned to the fact that the Changeling was seated a few feet away from her, so nearby and reachable. It would be easy to find a place along the road to pull her truck over, too easy, and she recoils from that temptation to replace it with a focus on the road. Driving. Just the open view through the windshield in front of them.
Mavis dabs her lips with her tongue and finds them still wet, still tasting of Thea, and something low, low down in stomach twists. She makes an involuntary breath, a soft sigh, then bites her bottom lip and focuses on breathing through her nostrils. And, pointedly NOT meeting Thea's vibrant, violet eyes in the rearview. She didn't have to be magical to FEEL the suffering radiance of Thea's outward basking. That kindled her fury again, prickled her back in a way that causes Mavis to square her shoulders as she drives. Her jaw tightens, prettily, of course.
She makes the mistake catching Thea's eye in the mirror and hers narrow. Mavis reaches up, adjusts it so she can't see her. She wanted to kiss her stupid face again, bite her lips and throat, twi-- Stop it, Mavis Octavia Baines. Get it together. She realizes she's going 20 miles over the speed limit then cuts that in half. It felt good to break the law just now by those 10 extra little miles.
"Shut up," she rakes back when Thea extends that invitation. She's so mad again that Mavis hardly feels guilty about the harsh words. But, Thea deserved it. She'd baited her on purpose, she was basking like a snake on a warm rock with its pronged tongue flitting to taste the air.
Then, the truck slows down. The engine sinks into a lower gear. Mavis guides the truck to the side of the road, gravel crunching under the huge tires. The noise of the rumbly engine cuts off, the headlights wink out, and suddenly it's quiet. Very quiet. Still. There's the sound of Mavis unbuckling her seatbelt, her body sliding over the seat with a creak of old leather. She gets close, face inches away from Thea's. Her features are shadowed, the silvery light cast by the stars blocked by metal roof above their heads.
"You aren't, though," she says lowly. "Sorry. And, I don't want to come upstairs with you." Mavis looks down, gaze falling to land on Thea's lips so prone to that rakish grin she found so infuriating, yet inviting. Okay, that was a lie. She very much DID want to go upstairs to Thea's apartment, close the door, and be alone with her. "God.. I hate you right you now." She cuts a glare up into the Lost's violet eyes. The mortal closes her mouth to stop herself from demanding again why Thea had done what she'd done. She knew why, she knew Thea knew that too. It was a circular argument. If only Thea hadn't pledged, she'd have leaped on the offer. Leaped on Thea. "But, you're so... guh- stupid sexy. I hate you. I-- I want to _fuck_ you." Rough, screaming, pinning, hard. "And, also, I kinda want to slap that smug look off your face."
Thea's half tempted to wind her window down and feel the cool rush of wind in her hair. But it's freezing out, and clearly some sort of sense prevails! Instead, she just sits there. Humming a tune beneath her breath, staring at Mavis with some ill concealed adoration. Gods. She's so damned pretty, even when mad.
"You're right, I'm not sorry. You got me. What gave it away?" Thea asks, releasing her own seatbelt with a -click- when Mavis releases hers.
She's being a jerk now, and she knows it. In a way, she can't help it. Not really. She doesn't know how else to react. That's not to say she isn't loving every minute of this, oh, no. She enjoys being a jerk, and that shows, from her rakish grin to how she raises a hand to her lips, covering her mouth in a look of mock shock at 'being found out.'
Still. She has to wonder. Was gentle, caring Mavis like this to anyone who tried to 'look after her'? What was the mortal so afraid of? Thea continues to mask her concern with amusement. Not difficult, when Mavis blurts out that bit about hating her, and finding her super sexy and wanting to fuck her. "I know," Thea says, tapping her cheek, the action reminiscent of the first time the two met, back at the club. "You could, you know. Hit me right here. I even wouldn't hit you back, love. Promise."
She reaches out, trying to trace a hand against Mavis' jaw, to capture her chin between forefinger and thumb. To make Mavis look her way.
"I'd only ask you one thing, if you did it. What is it about someone wanting to protect you that gets you so riled up? What is it about me being concerned that brings out all your cruelty, all your rage?"
She aims to smudge her thumb against Mavis' bottom lip, her expression softening from the smug look to something uncharacteristically serious. "Mavis, I made the pledge because you can count on me. Admittedly, some of that's gonna be to annoy you t' the point of screamin'. But yeh can count on me to turn up when you need someone to help you get out of a bad spot, all right?"
That rakish, smug grin returns. "And, I mean, if you really need someone to work out some of this pent up sexual frustration you've got goin', well, you can count on me for that too."
Sweet moment ruined, she chuckles and leans back into her seat. "All right, yeh can take me home now."
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