eden dire (spearmaiden) wrote in emillion, @ 2014-05-24 18:49:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, !log, cian wilde, eden dire |
thread; cian & eden
Who: Cian & Eden
Where: Eden’s apartment
When: Friday morning, before word of the attack.
What: Is anyone really surprised that Cian’s answer to this fight was a one night stand?
Rating: PG-13 - references sexual situations, casual nudity, also Cian and his potty mouth are a thing
Status: Complete
Waking up in a bed that wasn’t his own wasn’t a particularly common occurrence for Cian, but it had been known to happen now and again. The half mug of beer he’d consumed the night prior wasn’t nearly enough to blur his memory -- the bouncy blonde, cheerful and too conveniently flirtatious to consider turning her down, especially in the pisser of a mood he’d been carrying such the princess sashayed out of his apartment, had invited him home, and hell, why not? He hadn’t pegged her for Fighters’ Guild until he’d gotten her dress off and gotten a better look at her physique, but she’d seemed amenable enough not to try breaking his neck for no good reason, and hell, he’d been feeling a bit reckless. He’d slept lightly even so. But she’d all but passed out on top of him once she’d exhausted her fairly impressive appetite, and it wasn’t like he hadn’t gotten something out of it. Satisfaction came in several forms, after all, and he was pissed at the princess, the twit, and most of the other women he knew for good measure; there was something satisfying about doing exactly what someone didn’t want him to do. Fuck them all. Still, with the sun peeking in through lace curtains (fuck’s sake, armor and skimpy dresses and lace curtains, seriously?), he thought it was about time to extricate himself from her grasp and get back to work. Too much of a good thing and all that. Eden had been on a streak since the last attack on the city. She had a lot of things to deal with and a lot of other people to deal with and had just escaped for a few hours with some wonderful mind-numbing orgasms. The man she'd picked up last night had been perfect for that. He was also a visual feast with all the artwork he'd placed on his already nice body. His skill was nothing to be ignored either. She'd passed out pretty hard last night and now as the light filtered into her home through the lace curtains, she became aware of the body beneath her. It was warm and she rubbed her nose against his skin taking in his scent. The feel of him was a comfort, even if she registered that it was most likely going to be a very short lived one. At least her bed wasn't empty. At least she hadn't woken up alone this time. His breathing had shifted when he became conscious. It's what had drawn her out of her own slumber. Her hand slid along his chest fondly before she stretched her fingertips wide and rolled off. "Good morning," she said cheerily, but still a little groggy from sleep. Sitting up, she let the sheet slide off her form. She wasn't shy, and why would she be after what they'd done. Her arms were extended above her as she stretched them. The ranger lowered a hand over her mouth to cover a yawn. "Want some breakfast?" she asked as she lowered her arms. "I have some left over cake!" He couldn’t deny the view as she stretched unselfconsciously was a pretty nice one. Her hair was a tousled mess, but she’d clearly woken in a good humor. And she addressed him in a casual way that implied that she probably did this sort of thing with some regularity, which made her probably unlike that other twit who’d been running her mouth about tying him down. Thank his luck for small miracles. “Cake for breakfast, huh?” It sounded a little sweet, but she’d worn him out and he was starving. Better cake than going out with an empty stomach. “I wouldn’t say no. You got coffee, sugar?” He didn’t recall her name (had she even offered it?) but that didn’t bother him in the least. He’d eat her cake and potentially drink her coffee and then thank her for the nice time and get out of her hair. Eden's hands curled into the sheets that pooled around her waist as she looked down at him. "I can make coffee. Just need to know how strong you like it." Tossing the sheet aside, she slipped out of the bed and gave another stretch. She scooped up the nearest shirt and put it on. The fridge was cold. It'd been a while since she'd used the coffee maker herself, but she remembered how. She filled the pot with water in the kitchen and poured it into the machine. Her foot worked the freezer open, letting the light fill the other room in the apartment. Once she'd set the pot in its place she turned to pull the plate of cake out of the fridge and set it on the counter. She then went to the cabinet and started to pull out plates with one hand and two glasses with the other. "I, uh, don't have any milk. I hope that's not a problem." “I take it black,” he said, barely stopping from finishing, like my soul. No need to joke around, and some people didn’t have a sense of humor. Who the hell knew what sort of person she was, other than full of weird-ass contradictions? He’d followed her to the kitchen, having given up his half-hearted search for his boxers. Whatever. Nothing she hadn’t seen before; if she suddenly got shy, she could tell him to put clothes on. “No worries about the milk, I’m imposing. Thanks,” he said. Taking one of the plates and a sizable slice of cake, he dug in. He was starving, so of course it was good, if a bit dry from having sat in the fridge. He’d definitely had worse breakfasts. "Oh good. I would've felt a little embarrassed otherwise," she said rubbing the back of the her head as she looked over the coffee. She made it a little on the strong side and hoped he didn't mind. She had forgone the utensils in favor of breaking off bits of the cold cake with her fingers. The sweet taste flooded her mouth and the sugar rushed into her body. Yes, this was a good breakfast. "And you're not imposing. I invited you here," she corrected him with a nod. The coffee maker had stopped brewing and she looked over at the half-filled pot. A moment later, she pulled it out and filled the two cups. Placing the pitcher back its place, she passed Cian his cup. She didn't take hers black. She wished she had some milk, but settled for three sugars and stirred gently. And that's when her communicator went off in the other room. "Hrngh," she pouted, much like a petulant child. She was sure it was Ceres with some sort of task. She shoved a sizeable bite of cake in her mouth before putting her plate down and going into the other room. "Fuck!" His fork was halfway to his mouth with another piece of cake when she shouted; by the time he’d swallowed the bite of cake and washed it down with coffee (no point letting it go to waste), a great deal of mysterious noise was coming from the back of the apartment. He set down the cake, kept the coffee cup, and followed to discover that she’d managed to go from mostly naked to mostly armored in about fifteen seconds flat. Pretty fucking impressive, actually. He moved aside from the bedroom door in case she decided to bolt out, then went back to his previously failed hunt for his boxers. It sort of seemed like breakfast was over. Sliding her leathers over her top, she snapped the buckles in place and took a brush to her hair, giving it a few passes to work the knots out. The woman hadn't even had the chance to properly rub the sleep out of her eyes, which she started doing as she moved around kicking things before her booted foot caught the butt of her spear and she kicked it into her hand. "Really sorry, but there's a monster just outside the palings," she informed him. The spear secured on her back, she slid on her gloves, the knuckles laced with a metal panels. A moment later her buckler followed, snapping into her grip. "Sorry to run out on you like this, but I really have to go." A moment later, she was by his side, placing a kiss on his cheek. "Thanks for last night, cutie." And with that, she picked up her communicator and spoke into it, letting the device transcribe her words into text. "On my way." The door closed behind her leaving him alone in her apartment. He stood there, bent over at the waist, his hand on what was probably his shirt, and looked after her. “Huh,” he said. Weirdest fucking woman, seriously. Or were lots of the fighters like this, and he just didn’t know because generally he avoided picking them up? It took him awhile to get dressed; stopping in the kitchen to drop off his coffee cup in the sink, he thought a moment before telling the empty space, “I’m not doing the dishes.” He did lock the door behind him, though. He was an asshole, but not that much of one. A monster outside the palings, huh? He felt a little better after sex, sleep, coffee, and cold cake but… Yeah, why the hell not? It had been awhile since he’d punched anything in the face. Cracking his knuckles, he set out in search of his bike. |