Eve (oneaday) wrote in mythologs, @ 2011-12-26 12:35:00 |
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Current mood: | curious |
Entry tags: | !event #016, eve, samael |
[closed/complete]
Characters: Eve (oneaday) and Samael (andaclatter)
Date/Time: Christmas evening
Location: A hotel room
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Language, Samael
Summary: To Samael, paintball wars are foreplay
From the moment she first arrived at the hotel Eve was in an emotional tailspin. This was for a few reasons, most notably because of what had happened to her the last time she'd been mysteriously transported to some strange place, and the time before that, actually. There was a marked difference this time, she was happy to note, and that would be the paintball gear that she'd stumbled upon when she was trying to leave her room. For some reason she couldn't identify, from the moment she saw the paintball gun and ammo, she just wanted to shoot things. However, she knew she'd have to be slick about it, especially after finding out that Samael was also in a similar mood.
She hadn't been lying when she mentioned her affinity for hiding in games of 'hide and go seek' when she was younger, but what she neglected to mention was that there were a few times when her hiding spot was chosen so well that other players had forgotten about her. She knew once Samael was on the prowl the chances of him getting distracted from the task of finding her was minimal, but the good thing was that she figured if he assumed she was simply hiding he wouldn't think that she might be looking for him as well. Logically, Eve knew this was a fight she wouldn't be able to win, but she wasn't thinking all that logically right now. All that mattered to her was that Samael wanted to find her, disarm her, and then do God knew what to her afterward.
All it came down to was that he would have to catch her first, and as she crouched beside a wardrobe poised and ready for an eventual invasion, Eve was going to make that as difficult as she could for her foe.
~*~
Samael was in his element. This was positively wholesome by his standards. Oh, of course once he found Eve, events would spiral and conspire and she would find herself on the flat of her back, pleading mercy (and he was no merciful angel; he would show no mercy when he tasted her skin again). For now, though, he moved like an animal, sleek and smooth.
It was easy enough to avoid the other Blackwells; they were a thundering herd of laughter and swear-words. Eve was different, though; she was quiet. He knocked on every door and pushed them open, leading with gunpoint and checking every corner of every room. He rolled his neck, loosening up his shoulders and he smiled as he opened the final door.
~*~
Eve listened closely to the sounds around her, in no way as astute at reading the signs like Samael would be but still able to figure out that whoever was nearby was most likely working alone. It couldn't be one of Samael's mortal siblings, since they were acting like this place was their own personal paintball field complete with sound effects. No, whoever was coming for her was slick.
The breath she'd been holding in was released quickly as she peeked out from her hiding spot, the shadow from the opening door giving her all the warning she needed of Samael's impending arrival. Glancing towards the door that separated this room from the next, she sprang up from her crouching position and fired two shots towards the main door without looking, her focus entirely on getting into that next room without being caught.
~*~
While one of the paintballs hit the opening door, the other hit Samael square on the chest and elicited a soundless laugh. "Sweetheart," he called, his voice a luring sing-song. "I know you're in here."
By now, Samael was barefoot and the seat of his pants were paint-stained, thanks to a (damned lucky) strike from Patrick (who was cheating by acquiring so many offspring). He padded through the apartment and opened fire through the next open door.
~*~
Doing her best to run without making any sound, which was a lot harder when barefoot then a person might think, Eve would have been thrilled to know one of her shots hit him. Instead, she was scrambling like a madwoman in her quest to outrun him.
He was closing in, and Eve was starting to get sloppy. All the apartments had the same layout, and yet this time her haphazard path had led her straight to a bedroom. There was only one option - hiding under the bed. It wouldn't last, but it might buy her a minute while he looked around.
~*~
Samael walked into the room and looked around. The windows were barred and the bathroom door was open. He leaned against the door frame, resting the long barrel of the paintgun against the front of his shoulder.
"Sweetheart," he said, his voice a little reproachful as he took an educated guess as to where she had gone. "Do you want me on my hands and knees? You only have to ask."
~*~
Eve should have known better than to think she could fool him. However, desperate times called for desperate measures, and she wasn't in the mood for dealing with a smug Samael and his cute little nicknames even if he did look rather dangerous and disheveled in his current barefoot state.
"I have a name, Samael," she responded, injecting a little hardness into her tone as she shifted to get a better view of those familiar feet. "And I would appreciate your using it." As she spoke, she took aim and fired at his legs.
~*~
Samael swore softly as his feet became splattered with paint. He was going to need a shower, soon. Carefully, he stepped over to the bed and lay down on it, fluffing up the pillows behind his head. He didn't greatly care that he was smearing the bedspread with paint.
"Why is it," he asked, musingly, "that when brightly-coloured paints are mixed, they always turn into this rather ugly brown shade?" He hmmmed. "Perhaps it's a reflection of the human condition." He shifted on the bed, and it must be sagging down towards Eve, given his sheer bulk. "But I do rather look as though I've been wading in shit."
~*~
Eve couldn't stop a grin from coming to her face when she heard his whispered swearing. She wasn't often amused by such things, but this was different. He deserved to to get hit, especially because she knew that when she finally stopped hiding he would probably get her even worse than she got him.
When he settled down on the bed above her Eve couldn't hold back a soft grunt, already moving to try and find some place more comfortable. "Wait a minute, are you philosophizing about the human condition under the pretext of complaining about getting paint on your feet when you could be taking advantage of that nice, open shower and washing them off?" And giving her a chance to leave, as well? Eve couldn't hide the disbelief in her voice.
~*~
"Why would I go fucking anywhere, Evey?" asked Samael. "I have you right where I want you." He paused. "Well, perhaps not right where I want you but close enough." He chewed his lip and then reached out for the phone. Room service time. "I can stay here - Oh, hi. Yeah. Champagne on ice? Mm, best you got."
He relaxed again, toying with the gun (not a metaphor). "They are certainly very accommodating," he said. He wriggled his toes, pleased that the bed was a large one.
~*~
"Oh, I don't know, Samael, maybe so you can go join your family?" answered Eve, sarcasm creeping into her voice. She listened, aghast, as he very clearly ordered champagne from room service, not liking where this was going one bit. "...why did you order room service?" She paused, 'accidentally' pushing up against the mattress as she rolled onto her side. "Nevermind, I'd rather not know."
She hoped he wasn't expecting her to be coming out anytime soon, especially since now that she really thought about it she could probably hold out at least until the champagne arrived, since he'd have to let the waiter in, right? "They are quite accommodating, aren't they? Speaking of being accommodating, can you scooch over a bit to the left, please?"
~*~
Samael turned on his side too. He thought for a moment, lying very still. "I'd promised some time with you, hadn't I?" He smiled. The cheer was evident in his voice. "I do try to keep my fucking word, Evey."
He contemplated moving to the left but, instead, he moved to the right. Quick as anything (he was stealthy when he needed to be), he wedged himself in under the bed, next to Eve, his hand flashing out to close over her paintgun. "Bit fucking cramped down here," he said.
~*~
Eve cringed as the bed moved above her with his actions. She was regretting her choice of hiding place the more it became evident that Samael wasn't going to let her off easy. She brought this on herself, she knew this, hence why she wasn't complaining.
"I know you promised, Samael, but it's the Christmas season. I wouldn't hold you to that promise; family comes first," Eve stated in an exasperated tone, closing her eyes as she waited for some sign that he was going to move aside a bit. Her statement to Samael hit her more than she liked, reminding her that her mother would be alone this Christmas. She was so caught up in her thoughts that she didn't realize Samael had come under the bed until he had his hand on her weapon and was speaking. Jumping slightly, but enough to bang her head against the springs, she stared at him with wide eyes. "You weren't supposed to be able to fit under here."
~*~
"A promise isn't a simple fucking contract," said Samael, almost primly. He flashed a smile at Eve, dim in the darkness under the bed. He patted his stomach. "I've been working out," he said. It wasn't a lie, although the manner of working out was predictably unorthodox.
He smiled right back at her. "C'mon, Evey. It's Christmas at the end of a fucking shit year. Let's have a cease-fire. Let's have fucking champagne and maybe that shower you were talking about." His hand found hers, his long fingers curling around her wrist with room to spare. He felt her pulse beneath his fingertips, curious as to whether she truly felt like a caged animal (as though that was not his intent).
~*~
"Still..." Eve murmured softly, "I would understand if you would rather be with them." She knew that she should be thankful that he was honoring his promise, but she was the type of selfless sort who felt as though she was being a burden. If it wasn't for his comment about working out she probably would have told him exactly what she was thinking, but instead her fingers were itching to pat that stomach as well.
She took a deep breath. "Alright Samael, you're right. It is Christmas, and it has been a... well, a very bad year. I... suppose having a little champagne wouldn't hurt, and maybe the television here works and we can find a Christmas movie like 'It's a Wonderful Life' to watch." Her pulse was erratic, both because of his closeness and her earlier exertions, but she was trying to keep it under control. "I can't think you're really going to let me get off easily for shooting you in the feet, though."
~*~
"I'll spend time with them later. C'mon, let's get you out, and the retribution I'll exact ..." Samael hmmed as he took hold of her paintgun and laid it on the floor beside the bed. He wriggled out (it was harder getting out then getting in, it seemed). Once he was back on his feet, he reached down with a hand to help Eve up. It was no longer than three hours since his last exposure to the mistletoe, so paintgun attacks seemed less crucial than other ventures.
"Well. I think the least you can do is wash my back, no?"
~*~
"So long as you don't think they'll be mad at you for spending time with me, then I won't argue anymore," Eve agreed, her eyebrows raising when he mentioned retribution. She was aware that she had brought it up first, but his confirmation that there would be some form of revenge being taken wasn't exactly giving her the warm fuzzies. Shimmying out from under the bed, she gripped the hand Samael held out. Her heart started to beat faster at the contact as a blush bloomed in her cheeks.
"You want me to do what?" She blinked, leaning so she could peek at his back. "Your back isn't even dirty..."
~*~
Samael laughed. "How can you tell that while my clothes are still fucking on?" He peeled off his shirt and, yes, his back was perfectly clean but it didn't pay to be careless with such things.
He turned and looked down at Eve, lifting his hand and cupping her face. His hand looked huge, cradling her cheek, and he smiled down at her. He looked perfectly angelic in this instant, except that he was half-naked and he was Samael and he was the Tempter.
~*~
Eve shrugged. "Really good wild guess...?" Her voice was more breathy than she intended for it to be, but it was rather hard for her to deny his appeal when he was shirtless and standing so close. Rational thought was getting harder to cling to.
She whimpered softly when Samael's hand cradled her cheek, the sound filled with longing as her eyes slid shut. Bringing her hands up to rest on his shoulders, tongue darting out to wet her lips, Eve balanced on her toes as though driven by some unseen force, pressing her lips to his in a chaste kiss that was nevertheless full of promise.
~*~
Samael returned the kiss with something like delicacy, as though he was unsure how to continue (as though anything could be further from the truth). His lips curved into a smile and he lifted Eve up without any warning, encouraging her with gliding, roving hands to wrap her legs about his waist so he could hold her at a more comfortable height and kiss her more, and deeper.
It's A Wonderful Life and champagne and a beautiful woman. It was beginning to look a lot like Christmas and tomorrow would be time enough for repentance and celebration.