RP: Abandoning Her Resolution Who: Jani and Rick, with a couple Dawn cameos What: With no idea her life is about to drastically change (again), Jani has her last human affair… When: Monday, May 20, 2000 Where: Hollow Hill Tavern, then Rick's home Warnings: Adult-ish Completion Status: Complete
The first time she had stepped into Hollow Hill Tavern, the tall, handsome bartender had flirted with her while mixing her a cocktail, one she'd never heard of before, but Jani had told him to surprise her, so she'd been delighted he'd obliged her. It was only her third night since making it to Tarrytown, and several people she'd talked to had mentioned Hollow Hill Tavern. It had certainly lived up to the hype. In the nearly two weeks since that first night, she'd stopped back in no less than a half dozen times, limiting herself to only two drinks per visit for the sake of her bank account.
She hadn't run into the bartender outside his role behind the bar, not until now, when she walked into the bar and spotted him sitting on a stool in front of the bar, a glass of whiskey in one hand as he talked animatedly to the blonde behind the bar. Rick and Dawn, Jani reminded herself. She had always made it a point to learn names, especially for people she was likely to run into again. Walking up to the bar, she took the open stool next to Rick's, and her smile was friendly as she looked at Dawn. Rick didn't always hang out at the bar on his nights off, but if he were being honest with himself, he was hoping to run into the leggy brunette new to town. It didn't hurt that Dawn was working, and he enjoyed an extra dose of flirting with her, especially since their rather fantastic threesome with Grant a couple weeks ago. Luck was on his side when the woman waltzed in and sat right next to him. He tossed her a lazy smirk before looking back at dawn.
"She'll have an Antilles," he told Dawn, certain that the spunky blonde would remember how to mix what had become his signature drink, especially now that Lysette was keeping actual orange flower water on hand for it. When he ordered for her, without even bothering to greet her first, Jani snorted and looked at him incredulously. "Oh, will I?" she said. "You're awfully sure of yourself." Perhaps it only rankled her so much because it actually was the drink she wanted tonight. She wanted to to be annoyed with him, with that stupid smirk on his stupidly handsome face, and yet she felt a wave of attraction wash over her instead.
Rick chuckled, smirking at her again. "Tell me I'm wrong," he dared her.
Jani stared him down for a long moment before huffing out a breath. "Bastard," she accused without any real heat. Looking back at Dawn. "Yeah, I'd like an Antilles," she confirmed, annoyed at herself as much as she was at him. Dawn watched the exchange with amusement, shaking her head as the newcomer, Jani, confirmed her drink order. “He’s always sure of himself,” she supplied, grabbing a mixing glass to assemble the drink. “You get used to it.”
This was a new cocktail for her repertoire, one Rick had taken the time to show her, so no pressure with him watching now! Only the best brandy, of course, and carefully stirred with the other ingredients - not shaken - to chill the drink without diluting it. It was fun to break up the regular orders of beer and wine with cocktails like this, but Dawn wouldn’t want to make this sort of drink all night. She strained it into a rocks glass and garnished it before putting it in front of Jani with a friendly smile.
“Here you go.” To Rick she added sweetly, “I’ll put it on your tab.” If he was bold enough to order for a lady, he could pay for it too. “Let me know if you need anything else,” Dawn told Jani, spotting another customer who needed serving and happy to get a slight reprieve from Rick’s flirting since he had a new target to keep him occupied. Jani snorted a short laugh at Dawn's words, thoroughly amused and having no trouble believing that. She also suspected that Rick's reputation was well-earned. When Dawn set the drink down in front of her, she said a quiet 'thank you' and had been about to get her wallet out, when she added that next bit. Laughing again, she turned to smirk at Rick. "And thank you," she said, lifting her drink in a mock toast to him.
Taking a sip of the drink, she hummed approvingly. "She makes them better than you do." Dawn wasn't wrong; it was only fair to put it on his tab since he'd ordered it for her. And it certainly wasn't going to bother Rick, who had more money than he knew what to do with most of the time. Money provided him with the freedom to travel freely, but he wasn't particularly materialistic otherwise. Oh, certainly, he had his sexy car, a 1969 Chevy Camaro Convertible in a vibrant shade of blue that he'd bought brand new off the lot that year, as well as his motorcycle. And his clothes were generally higher quality. But he didn't feel the need to constantly throw his money at things, as proven by his roommate situation, he rather thought.
Rick let out a laugh at Jani's words, reaching over to pinch her thigh through her jeans, wondering what it might take to get her to let him peel them off her tonight. "She does a few things better than I do," he said, wiggling his eyebrows at her, not minding at all if Dawn happened to overhear him. She didn't seem to be embarrassed by the night they'd shared with Grant, after all. Jani's eyebrows shot up at that, and she glanced at Dawn briefly before looking back at Rick. "Oh yeah? Sampled her, have you?" she asked, though she wasn't sure why. Maybe it was hanging out with Ram last week, but she was feeling looser and freer and yet also wound like a fucking coil just waiting to spring free. The surge of lust she felt was attributed to thinking about Rick and Dawn and the pretty picture they'd probably made together. She wasn't even into women, but she wasn't blind.
Rick's smile took on an edge of something that reminded her of a hunter who'd just spotted the prized prey, and damn if it didn't speak to something deep inside her. He didn't say anything though, instead just lifting his drink to his lips to take a sip.
"What? Now you can be quiet?" she asked, perhaps trying to taunt a reaction out of him. What was wrong with her that she, apparently, wanted to poke the bear? There was something wild and barely constrained lurking under the surface of this woman, and it drew Rick in like a moth to the flame. Usually he was the flame, so the feeling intrigued him. His eyes danced with amusement at her rather transparent attempt at riling him up, and he lowered his glass, leaning toward her and letting his free hand rest fully on her jean-clad thigh.
"What? Wondering if you can make me scream? Usually that's my job," he said, his voice silky and full of promise. He pushed his magic toward her, finding that tight ball of lust already coiling in her and stoking it, pushing sensual, explicit images into her mind. "Fuck," she breathed, her cheeks flushing at the way her imagination went wild with just that hint of implication in his words. Arousal pooled between her legs, and she had no trouble believing he could make her scream. He practically dripped sex, and a part of her couldn't believe he was flirting with her. Although Ram had implied he would happily invite her to a threesome if he had a third in mind. It was just ridiculous that she'd only been here for two weeks, and already her resolve to swear off men was crumbling. How was it that one small town had so many fuckable men?
The way he smirked at the single word was as annoying as it was arousing, and she lifted her glass, downing half of it in one go.
"I have no trouble believing that," she finally said when he didn't say anything. What the hell; why was she bothering to resist? He was hot and clearly willing. Maybe an enthusiastic round of no strings attached sex was exactly what she needed to put the whole Ben thing behind her. And with the way his hand was rubbing up and down her thigh, those gorgeous blue eyes dancing, it was very clear that was exactly what it would be with him.
"Fuck it, my motel room isn't far from here," she said, because imagining him spreading her out right there on the bar and having his wicked way with her was not doing anything to cool her down. She was putty in his hands, and Rick couldn't be happier. All he had to do was keep looking at her, keep his hand moving over her leg, keep encouraging the deliciously explicit images floating through her mind, and she was bound to beg him to take her somewhere to properly fuck her. And then… Yes, there it was.
His expression turned decidedly impish, and he shook his head slowly. "Neither is my place, and I guarantee my bed is far more comfortable," he pointed out. He didn't avoid motels all the time, but he did prefer a certain level of comfort in his temporary lodging. Watching as she considered it, he marveled at how open she was with him. She wasn't fully human, he could sense that much, but she was more open than most supes he interacted with.
And when she finally spoke, he tipped his head back and laughed. "I don't know. You're not a wannabe Ted Bundy, are you?" It seemed to be her go-to question whenever guys wanted to do anything with her since she'd got to town, but she rather thought how they reacted was a good barometer for their character. It had seemed accurate with Eric and Ram, both of whom she'd ended up in their homes and neither of whom had done anything remotely threatening toward her.
The fact that Rick laughed, seeming thoroughly amused by the question rather than offended, was promising, indeed. What he did next encouraged her even more. As the laughter subsided, he leaned in toward her, blue eyes still sparkling. "Definitely not. I'm into a lot of kinky stuff, but necrophilia is definitely not on my list." He chuckled again as she groaned, and then he glanced over at Dawn, motioning her back toward them.
"Dawn, love. I, Rick Allen, am taking this gorgeous young woman–" He paused, looking at her pointedly to encourage her to introduce herself.
"Jani Matthews," she supplied, playing along.
"--Jani Matthews, back to my place for a debaucherous good time. She will be free to come and go as she pleases. And now someone else knows, so her mind can be put at ease that I'm not some devious serial killer," he explained to his co-worker, thinking she might get a kick out of it as well as putting Jani at ease. “Rick, darling,” Dawn replied dryly as she was called over, amusement building in her expression as he proceeded with his oh-so-formal speech while she finished polishing a glass.
Her gaze cut to Jani as she put down the glass so that she could close out Rick’s tab, not with any kind of envy but knowing exactly what it was like to be at the receiving end of Rick’s flirtation. “Well, have fun, kids.” She smirked a little, hoping Jani would have as much fun as she had. “I’d say don’t stay up too late, but little Ricky has no trouble staying up.”
She passed Rick back his card. “Have a good evening, Rick Allen and Jani Matthews.” Mmm, yes, he was definitely going to find more opportunities to play with Dawn. It was entirely possible she would become one of his favorite playthings in this area for this chapter of his long life. Especially because he didn't sense any interest from her in anything more than he was willing to give. He took the card back and slipped it away in his wallet before signing the credit slip, leaving a generous tip, as he always did.
Sliding off the barstool, he held his hand out to help Jani to her feet as well. He was intentionally not commenting on Dawn's little quip, certainly not insecure in his physical self anymore than any other part of him. Let Jani wonder and, perhaps, be even more pleased when she saw just how not little he was. It was a quick ride back to the house, and Rick was pleased when Jani hadn't balked at climbing on the bike behind him, her thighs pressing tight against him as her chest pressed against his back, wearing his helmet. He wasn't worried about himself, but he suspected she was human enough to feel better with one. When they pulled up to the house, Jani pushed back before swinging her long legs over to get off the bike. It only took her about two seconds to place it, pulling the very recent memory forward with a delighted laugh.
"Fucking hell, you're Ram's Rick," she said, tipping her head back as the laughter pushed out a little more enthusiastically. She couldn't wait to tell him! Assuming this went as well as advertised, of course.
Rick leaned back on the bike, but he didn't get off it yet, and she glanced back at him as the laughter faded, raising her eyebrow at him. "Ram's Rick?" he asked, the question written all over his face. Just why was he being referred to in the possessive like that?
Snorting, Jani shook her head. "I just mean that I've been here before. To Chez… fuck, let me see if I can remember it right. Chez Nate-Ram-Cris-Rick? I might have got the order wrong. But Ram told me about you guys." And she was going to have to eat her words, because Ram had been right. He was hot, totally, but Rick was… Fucking hell.
When he finally got off the bike, Jani practically launched herself at him, jumping up and wrapping long legs around him, feeling that pure feminine thrill when he caught her with ease. "Now, I seem to remember you making some pretty big promises," she said, stretching the truth of it a little, but she didn't think he would mind. Ahh, yes, context. Ram sure did know how to make an impression, didn't he? Rick knew he'd liked that guy. He still wasn't sure how he felt about the possessive term, but at least he was less inclined to believe Ram had referred to him that way.
He didn't always bring people back to the house, if only because he liked variety and didn't always necessarily want them to know where he lived. There may have been a time or two… dozen people throughout the years who had become obsessed with him. Not that he could blame them, but it just wasn't always worth the risk of them knowing where he lived. The longer he lived in Tarrytown, however, the more comfortable he became with the odds that it wasn't going to happen here.
Rick caught Jani easily, chuckling as his hands dug into those tight, toned ass cheeks he'd so admired in the tight jeans she seemed to favor. "So I did," he said, walking them up to the house. As they reached the front door, she dropped back to her feet, draping her arms over his shoulders as she leaned up to kiss him.
Naturally, he happily obliged.
The trip up to his room was full of wandering hands and lips, and when he finally had her spread out on his bed, all toned muscles and sharp lines with subtle curves. Rick was not a man that discriminated harshly on body type but rather found confidence a better drive for attraction; there was something to appreciate about most body types, after all. But it was the thick, pink, puckered scars around her left hip that drew his attention momentarily away from the lust thrumming through the room.
As he leaned over her, kissing up her legs and then that delicious little dip below her hip bone, he reached out with his magic, touching at the edges of her own. He couldn't read anyone's nature or their minds, not in the way his father could, but sometimes he could get a sense of it. What he was sensing now was that she was oblivious, and he tried to shake off the strangeness of that, to remind himself that he didn't really care.
Still, as his lips trailed over the scars, he lingered, looking up her body to meet her heated gaze. "What happened here?" he asked.
Her expression seemed haunted for the briefest moment, her eyes glassy with a deep pain that she couldn't quite hide in that moment, but then it was as though a wall shuttered down around whatever memories were plaguing her. She reached out, long fingers stroking over his shoulders and through his hair.
"Nothing near as fun as what's about to happen here," she said, and Rick took that as his cue to make sure they had the most enthusiastic, borderline acrobatic night of sex that she'd ever have.