Re: (After)life: Nel L & Lear L
"Hmm." He mimicked Nel, but it was teasing, almost cheeky. Lear wasn't worried about being uninteresting. He wasn't, and no amount of easy fucking was going to make him so, so he didn't really care. That said, he could recognize that maybe whatever his sister found interesting was something that lived (longer) in those who offered more resistance. He'd found some thrill in the chase, after all, depending on the prey.—He smiled when Nel allowed that the virgin she'd been with hadn't stayed a virgin (it wasn't a confirmation, but an implication, and that was enough for Lear). "Don't you like the experienced ones more? The virgins just lay there." In his experience, anyway. Which hadn't always been tender, to be fair to the virgins.
When she asked him about what had caught his fancy, Lear chuckled as he exhaled, the fingers of smoke pale white. He wasn't surprised she noticed. He could still smell the sex on himself, musk and sweat and pussy, even after a shower. "No one." Which was true. His fancy wasn't caught. "I fucked a girl who's supposedly cleaned up her life or something. Except when you dangle a couple bucks in front of her." He sucked on the cigarillo a moment, the end of it damp from his lips. Another exhale. "Did you know there's an entire 'hookerville' here? It's fucking insane. I prefer them anyway." He looked at Nel after she withdrew her touch. Her elbow was between them. He smiled. "You can get straight to it."
Lear's gaze dragged along his sister's smile, then flicked upward like an arc of sea-froth. She was looking at him through weave of lashes, and he didn't say anything for a moment. When she finally said it would inappropriate to use him as an erotic subject, he laughed, dropping his head back against the sofa's spine and finishing the dregs of the cigarillo. Nel stood, unfolding beside him, and Lear watched her go with an interest that simmered, rather than boiled.—Away and back, now with a camera, and she sat at the other end of the sofa. Lear leaned to tap his cigarillo out on the coffee table with a length of long, bare arm, then he rolled to sit back once more. He licked his lips, tasting ash, and asked: "So I shouldn't be inappropriate." He glanced around him, as if thinking.