nishka//loki (nishka) wrote in paxletalelogs, @ 2017-02-20 15:57:00 |
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Entry tags: | fenrir, loki |
My eyes don't need to see that ugly thing
Who: Abel & Nish.
What: Nish finds out that she's been assigned to the same case as Abel. Oh, joy.
Where: Orange County Superior Court Central Justice Center.
When: February 20, 2017, 2pm
Abel flipped through the case paperwork once more as he waited for this particular law breaker's attorney to make an appearance. He was waiting in a typical meeting space inside the Orange County Superior Court, like any other day. The papers in his hands were, unfortunately, nothing out of the ordinary for his work -- Cesar Gonzales-Mugaburu, accused pedophile. His case was especially notorious, as he'd managed to work the foster care system into his own mail-order delivery service for young, impressionable victims. Truth be told, Abel was impressed with the man's ingenuity, though the majority of the credit lay with the broken criminal justice system, the foster care system who didn't look after its charges, and possibly with the man's neighbors, who had continuously looked the other way.
Licking a finger, Abel paged through the contents of the report, his head down as Gonzales-Mugaburu's defense attorney finally made an appearance.
Nish had fought hard to not take this case. When it was dropped in her lap she had flat out refused, but there was no way to get out of it. The state wanted it handled, and nobody else would do it, including her. Finally, they’d just randomly assigned it to a staff attorney, and it just happened to be her.
“You could just throw the case,” Jessica had commented hopefully, while the two of them looked over the materials. The poor woman was white as a sheet, and she didn’t blame her.
“I’d lose my licence,” she murmured back, chewing on her lip, “which, at this point, sounds like a fair trade.” She sighed and rubbed her face with her hands, trying to will herself into being professional, detached. It was just a job, like any other. Just a different kind of asshole.
“You have a meeting with the psychologist this afternoon,” Jessica reminded her, looking at her watch. “In half an hour; you’d better go.” Nish nodded and collected the file, then looked back at her.
“Do me a favour...find me some absinthe while I’m gone. None of that fake shit, I want the real stuff.” Jessica smirked at her and waved her out of the office.
And twenty minutes later she was walking into the meeting room and staring directly at the last person she ever wanted to see. “Well shit,” she said, standing in the doorway. “This day is just getting better and better.”
Abel looked up, leaning back in his chair as a wide, exuberant grin spread over his face. His clean suit was well pressed, hair slicked back. He looked far more presentable than he had that night at CASKET, or in the hallway the following day.
"Good afternoon, counselor," he offered, the mocking tone easily deduced. He motioned to the chair across from him. "You're not really that upset to see me, are you? I thought we had fun."
She narrowed her eyes, pressing her lips together in a slight scowl at his tone. “I didn't know you worked here,” she said, not sitting down. Not acknowledging that she did have fun. Her discomfort with this case immediately heightened by his presence.
"Recent transfer from Suffolk County in Mass. I'm glad I'm getting a chance to get to know you better, Nish." Abel leaned back in his chair, making its front legs rise up off the floor. "You gonna come in and take a seat?" He tipped his head at the case file on the table in front of him. "This guy's a real piece of work. I'm surprised you'd take this sort of case." He had a good idea that she hadn't willingly taken the case; not many would, and Nish didn't strike him as the sort to have a soft spot for child molestors.
She frowned, but saw no reason not to sit down, her briefcase thumping on the table between them.
“I didn't,” she said with an edge in her voice. “The State requires that someone else defend this asshole, and I drew the short stick.” She took a deep breath and then leant forward. “Look, I'm going to do my job, to the absolute letter of the law, and then I'm going to break open a bottle of champagne when he's led away in chains. There are cases you lose sleep over, this won't be one of them,” She said, having no idea how wrong she was.
Abel certainly didn't believe that last bit, but he didn't deign to comment as much. Instead, he tipped forward, letting his chair legs hit the floor without a sound.
"I hope you'd invite me; I'm partial to Blanc de Blancs." He let his grin widen for a moment, meeting Nish's gaze squarely. Then his expression softened, as he bent toward the task at hand, and surely giving Nish a nice, tidy exit to move away from his self-imposed invitation. "So where do you want to start?"
She glared at him for a moment, but then decided to let it go. Professional.
“We need to play at finding some kind of defence for him, “ she started, but was having trouble getting the words out. “I'm..drawing a blank, but you've spent time with him. I thought you'd have some insight.” She had no idea it was him the file had referred to, but now she had to deal. The only thing that she thought she could use was the State's failure to check on the kids, but that that had nothing to do with the actual crime committed by her client.
Abel wet his lips, sitting up straight in his chair.
"Difficult is an understatement for this," he replied. "He clearly knew what he was doing. I'd need more time, but it's possible that he could be bipolar or schizophrenic, which applies to his uneven disciplinary measures with the children. The rest of the abuse... I'd have to dig more into his background to see if there's a history of sexual misconduct on the part of a parent, guardian, or someone else close to him, but that is another potential avenue." His words were clinical and dry, clearly separating himself from the emotions tied to the case -- or simply showed that he had no feeling about it at all. As he spoke, he watched Nish's face, reading it for every small reaction there was to be had.
As disturbing as this case was to her, she was struck with an unexpected sense of admiration for his expertise and obvious detachment. She could separate herself just fine with other cases, view her clients as idiots or assholes or victims of the system...but when she came across true evil, it was difficult.
"Is there anything in particular that you'd want me to follow up on?"
She'd been distracted while he spoke, looking at a picture in her file, of one of the youngest children involved. “Yeah,” she murmured. “How could anyone do that to another human being?” Inside, the voice sighed with impatience.
’Get over it, princess, do your job.’
‘I don't want to do this anymore…’
‘Look, you knew this job was hard when you started. You can do this.’
‘I don't think so. Not this time.’
At first, Abel wasn't sure if she was speaking to him, and he paused before replying.
"An eternal question," he finally said, his voice low. "Why do we do anything, outside of the bare minimum to survive? I'm certainly not saying that art or music is the same as, well, this," he gestured to the case papers. "But you have to admit, people find pleasure in strange places."
Her eyes met his without permission. Somehow, this guy had a knack for reading her perfectly, even in things that were the furthest from her mind. She supposed, knowing now what he did for a living, that made some sort of sense.
But now all she could think about was how he'd pinned her against the bathroom wall. She cleared her throat, banishing the thought.
“I guess...if you could find grounds for an insanity plea, that would make my life easier," she said, avoiding his eyes and going back to rifling through her file.
He tipped his head forward, her furtive movements to keep herself distracted amusing him. "I'll certainly try. It's more than what he probably deserves, but..." He shrugged. "It's our moral duty, isn't it?"
He was pinning her wrists to the wall, biting at her neck and shoulder.
She squeezed her eyes shut, swallowed the lump in her throat, and then closed the file on the desk in front of her, shoving it back into her briefcase. “Right,” she agreed, rising from the desk. “Just...don’t try too hard,” she added, barely glancing up at him before turning to the door.
Abel was on his feet, folding his own paperwork back into its manila folder. "Mind if I walk you out? I'm due for a smoke break, anyway. Or are you off to another case?" He reached around Nish, pushing the door around ahead of her, holding it open like anyone with good manners would.
'Leave. Now.' It sounded urgent, worried.
“I’m actually heading back to the office,” she said, in what she hoped was a casual tone, heading down the hall, away from the conference room and away from him. Up ahead she saw the public washrooms and her heart skipped a beat.
’If you do this, I can’t help you…’
‘What if I don’t want your help?’
‘Then you’re far more fucked up than I gave you credit for.’
She turned, opening the door to the private women’s washroom.
He followed her right inside, sweeping her into the bathroom in much the same manner he had back at CASKET. The door slammed shut behind them, and Abel left it unlocked this time. He set his manila envelope on the bathroom counter, one free hand going to unbutton his collar.
"Are you sure you don't need a break, Nishka?" He took two steps in her direction, closing the space between them, his reflection mirroring his movements so there were four of them in the bathroom; predator and prey, the stalked being cornered in a box of hard stone. "You seem very upset over this case."
The look in his eyes terrified her and thrilled her, and she wanted to turn away and walk out, put this behind her as a mistake, but couldn’t. As much as she couldn’t put down a glass of alcohol once it was poured, there was nothing she could do except grab hold of his shirt and pull him against her, her teeth scraping none-too-gently against his jugular, then soothing it with a hot swipe of her tongue.
’You did this to me,’ she accused the voice, ’I hope you’re fucking happy.’ It didn’t reply, but she would have sworn that it smiled.
He grunted in surprise, his throat pushing forward into that warm moisture, his eyes going half-lidded. Then his hand grabbed a thick handful of her hair, jerking her head back as he maneuvered her backward into the sink. She hissed in pain as she was forced back into the porcelain. Head held at an angle, one hip jutted forward to separate and divide her legs, pushing them apart with ease. Abel held his face mere inches away from Nish's, his hot breath on her skin a testament to his excitement.
"Not so scared after all, are we? You made it sound like you didn't like this...but I'm starting to get other ideas." She was trembling with a sudden rush of adrenaline and need, delighting in the sensation of him pulling her hair, exposing her throat.
“You’re a fucking asshole,” she murmured, “and I want you to fuck me like one.”
A half-amused, half-hurt expression crossed Abel's face. "That's not how we ask for things that we want, is it?" His mouth hovered over the corner of her lips, down to the jaw, teeth lightly nibbling the skin. "How do you ask?"
Her breath hitched as his lips made their way across her jaw, nipping lightly at her neck. Her eyes slipped closed and a soft moan escaped her throat. Like a cat held by the scruff, all of her earlier aggression, her brief flirtation with dominance, was now gone. “Please,” she murmured, her fingers digging into his shirt, trying to pull him closer.
"How do you ask?" He repeated, his free hand going between her legs. His touch pressed through her pants, feeling the warmth emanating through the cloth. She moaned unabashedly as he touched her, her fingers tightening on his shirt so that it exposed his chest to the bite of her nails. Her head fell back, but there was nothing behind her but the sink against her hips, her neck now fully exposed and vulnerable.
“Ohh god, please” she begged, tears stinging her eyes beneath the lids. He was so very different from Rafe to her - Rafe was warmth and pleasure and comfort like the sun, but Abel...he was the shock of electricity - dangerous, exciting and raw.
His grip tightened; his teeth descended, cutting into her skin to leave red, bruising marks. She gasped and cried out, the pain blending seamlessly with the pleasure shocking down her spine. His tongue laved her throat, the warm, hot pulse, the sound of her begging making his eyes nearly roll back in his head. He moved down, more bites along her neck to her clavicle, pushing her shirt back at the shoulder. He pulled back the barest inch, his breath hot on her skin and the wounds he was making.
"How badly do you want it?" Her breath shook, her mind reeled, fingers clamped tight around his mussed shirt.
“I want it...I’ll do anything,” she breathed, “just please, fuck me.” Because in that moment, all that mattered was this; her whole world had been reduced to them, here, in this bathroom, and what he was about to do to her.
Or rather, not do. Abel's hand was suddenly gone from between her legs, though his hip did not remove itself.
"Not yet," he whispered against her skin, pulling her hair taut with one hand for a moment before releasing it completely. He stepped back, smoothing faint wrinkles out of his shirt and dress jacket. A sharp grin played around his mouth, teasing and all too pleased with himself.
Abel turned to collect the manila folder with his papers in it, glancing at Nish. "You're gonna want a first aid kit for your neck, or maybe a scarf. Up to you on how much you wanna show that off."
And just like that it was over. Her eyes flew open when he let her go, one hand coming up to touch the marks on her neck. Suddenly pleasure gave way to anger and her eyes narrowed. “Bastard,” she spat, watching him casually straighten himself out. “I’m not your whore.”
’Then stop acting like it, darling,’ the voice mocked. She clenched her jaw and turned away, inspecting the damage in the mirror.
"No, you're not my anything. But just a moment ago you were begging me to fuck you, so I'd say that makes you more of a slut," Abel returned, that stupid smile on his lips unabating. Anger rose swiftly inside her and her eyes burned as she watched him, an epithet on her lips that didn’t find voice.
He tucked the folder under one arm. "Don't worry, I'm into that kind of thing. Maybe 'complicated' isn't what you need right now, huh?" She glared daggers at him in response, watching him gather his folder and act like nothing had happened. She wanted to scream at him, claw at him, hurt him like he’d hurt her, but deep down she knew he was right, and that only made it hurt all the more.
With that, he turned away as that black feeling swirled in his head; this time, having her ask for it, beg for it was something the thing had liked. And Abel couldn't deny it, either; it was always a rush when they played along.
He pushed out of the woman's restroom door, just passing a woman who jumped back in surprise to see a man exiting. He smiled at her, and held the door open, before making his way out to the front for his previously described smoke break.