Maryanne Elizabeth Walker (maryanne_walker) wrote in spinningcompass, @ 2013-03-28 01:23:00 |
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Entry tags: | !closed, maryanne walker (oe) |
Who: AU!Mitchell and Maryanne
Where: The club
What: Some comfort
When: Backdated to Monday the 25th
Rating: HIGH!
Open: Nope
Status: Finished, logged.
It wasn’t the best of days. It wasn’t the best of weeks. Yes, he had agreed that a relationship was too complicated. It simply wasn’t fair on her but a part of him regretted ever mentioning it. He wasn’t even sure if he wanted a relationship or actually the relationship. He liked Maria. He liked spending time with her and she was beautiful, sexy. But in the matter of feelings? He had no idea. Mitchell sighed and pushed his body back into the bench and let himself sink down. So far no one was around. The memories he connected with this place weren’t kind. But he still came back from time to time to catch Malcolm and Grey, then they thought no one else was around. They were quite the entertaining couple to overhear. Maryanne wasn’t really avoiding the pub. Okay, maybe she was. But it wasn’t because she was avoiding Mitchell, more than she was avoiding a place that Mac might show. She had done pretty good so far by avoiding the big farmboy. She didn’t want to take something that he might consider special. She didn’t want to see the look on his face after when she told him that there couldn’t be anything more between them. She’d seen it on Bruce’s face when she told him that Daryl was the reason she was singing. Felt it as he changed to Hulk. She had to shake the memory off. Like others, she pushed the door open to Grey’s Club to forget. To rid herself of the weight of the sorrow she felt. She’d gotten better with hiding it lately. To shield herself with flirtation, and teasing, building the wall she’d once erected long before she’d ever met Daryl. But people she knew, knew what she was doing. She couldn’t hide from everyone. Maryanne dressed in something she was sure Mitchell question why she bothered to wear anything at all. A simple short black camisol, short silky black shorts with laces that tied to pant legs that started at her knee, leaving her whole thigh practically bare. Black ‘hooker’ boots were hidden beneath, with only the toe exposed. She felt slutty and oddly enough it felt good. She didn’t expect to find Mitchell there. None the less she didn’t pause, didn’t lose that smirk that hid everything inside, as she strode over. “Didn’t expect to find you here.” Her natural southern drawl allowed her to purr the words without even trying. Making them sound a touch dirtier than they were, in that sultry alto tone. As Mitchell’s eyes fell on the woman who came in and took in her rather poor state of clothing, he couldn’t help but stare a bit. Wasn’t that his other self’s best friend? His suspicion was confirmed seconds later. Mitchell sighed at her question. “I’m not him. I’m the other one,” he stated simply. “And who are you? The new go-go dancer?” He usually avoided everyone that had anything to do with his other self like a pest. He wanted no part of that life and he didn’t want to wait to see them get hurt. He had screwed all of his friends over already. He wasn’t ready to see that happening again. But today was different. Today he just didn’t care. He was tired, alone and feeling like shit. Being on your own made you think, it let you take strolls into the past and regret your life. And knowing that his past was still lurking somewhere on the Island didn’t make things better. “Ah the ghostly one. Well I guess that explains a few things.” Why he was here, and not there. With a delicate sniff, she knew she didn’t smell Mitchell, she smelled that odd scent that the ghosts carried. Leaning against the wall she glanced down at her getup. “No, Mitchell told me to be free. Be me, if I wanted. I figured I’d take baby steps. Let this place get used to me first.” Though Mitchell hadn’t used those exact words. And neither had she. But they worked. “Is that your way of saying you don’t like what I’m wearing?” Maryanne forced a little pout. “Because I was totally going for almost stripper.” Sucking her teeth just a little. She knew a few things about ghosts, from knowing Annie, and Alex. “If you were to taste what I was drinking, what would you want to taste?” She was keen on Absinthe, but only because of the rush of it. How quickly she got a buzz. The lower quantity of need didn’t hurt either. But she was flexible. Mitchell listened to her, a smile giving away his amusement. “Does that mean I can push some notes in your hot pants?” His voice jumped to a flirty ring. He had had those conversations millions of times. “Ahh, I smell an offer I like very much. In that particular case I would go for anything that gets me drunk as quickly as possible,” Mitchell stated and got up. “So, what shall I get us two?” Maryanne let the tip of her tongue trail over the edge of her teeth. “I might let you get away with that.” There was no hiding the heat behind the words. She wouldn’t lie, before they’d become as close as they had, Mitchell had played in a few of her playtime fantasies. Or she wouldn’t lie to herself anyway. That wasn’t something she’d admit to either man. There was no point in giving one a big head, and making the other feel rather awkward around her. “Absinthe, then. With a little ice water and sugar if you please.” There was no harm in letting him get it was there? After all he did offer. “Oh, and a spoon, I’m not sure if they’ll have the slotted ones or not, but a regular one works just as good.” She didn’t want to get to drunk to fast and meet the green fairy after all. “So very kind,” Mitchell teased and gave her a wink. “Absinthe, it is.” With that he vanished and reappeared at the bar. The bottle, ice water and sugar were collected rather easily. He roamed one of the drawers for a special absinthe spoon and got some cash out of the cashier for good measure and put it into the back pocket of his jeans. With that he reappeared in front of her and gathered everything except for the money on the table. He looked back at the bar, focused on the glasses and made one appear in his hands. At least, he didn’t drop them anymore. The glass was put down in front of Maryanne and Mitchell smirked. “There you go, Miss.” Unable to resist Maryanne dipped into a very shallow curtsy, no more than a slight bend in her back, and a dip of her head. After all he was very polite in collecting it all. “Thank you sir.” Easing into the seat she wasted no time in measured out a good bit of the drink into the glass, perching the spoon filled with sugar over the glass, and ever so slowly she poured the water over the spoon. Once the sugar was mixed in, she gave it a little stir. She paused only long enough to give Mitchell a good long once over. “Ready?” She questioned with a slightly lifted brow. The invitation there, and she wasn’t going to revoke it. “Whenever you are,” Mitchell said and sat down next to her. The look wasn’t lost on him. Oh, he noticed. And he liked it. He could stop thinking, just forget about his life and enjoy himself. It was long overdue. “Sooo…” He leaned closer towards her, purring his thick accent into her ear. “What part of your skin may I have… your arm… maybe your neck… or your lower back… something else entirely?” Maryanne shivered just a little as he purred into her ear. What was it about his voice that could just light all her fires at once? A broad grin tugged at the corners of her lips. “Surprise me, anything is game.” It was a dare, and that was obvious in her tone. Where would he lay his hands? How bold would he be? She sat straighter in her chair. Waiting the feel of his touch, she dared to close her eyes. Oddly her body craved it. Almost ached for it. And that was all she wanted to sense. Mitchell glanced from one naked inch of flesh to the next. He touched her arm lightly. “Here?” He asked as he let his fingers brush over her skin. They travelled lightly up the arm before his touch jumped to her lower back. “Here?” he asked. Mitchell watched his fingers dance on her naked skin, taken in by the sight of it. The sensation of touch was a mixture of concentration and memories by now. He could feel it but it wasn’t as alive as it once had been. Maybe the vampirism made the difference here. He didn’t know. He didn’t remember humanity. “Or here?” he asked boldly before he moved his hand to her thigh. This time he looked up at her, eyes waiting for her to go with the daring question. The ghost wanted to feel again. If being a vampire had provided one thing, it was extremes. Passion, anger, frustration and lust had been so, so common. But ghosts simply existed. They didn’t live. The emotions were still there but not as vivid, not as full. He wanted to feel whole again. And Jesus, a good orgasm had never hurt anyone. Maryanne sucked in a sharp breath as his fingers began to caress over her arm. Oddly enough his cool touch was like nothing else over her naturally heated skin, and she liked it a lot. She didn’t know if it was the simple stroke itself or the fact that she was beginning to feel deprived and that supercharged things, but when his fingers moved to her back she did purr a little groan. Something that just barely parted her lips. When his hand dropped to her thigh. Her eyes jerked open. The need, and lust tidal waved over the rest of her emotions. A slow smile worked it’s way into place. “Why don’t you try a little higher?” Her gaze shifted from his, to his lips, and back, while her fingers plucked the top laces that held the pant leg on free giving an unhindered stretch of skin. Pondering what it would be like to kiss a ghost, hell being fondled by one was fucking amazing. Already her heart was working that heavy ‘turned on’ thud. She knew it already worked the circulation up, she could feel every caress of the fabric of her top, with each breath she took. And she knew that the size of her pupils would be a dead give away, if nothing else was. “I wouldn’t have wanted to be that provocative but if you insist,” Mitchell hummed. His voice had already dropped a few tones. Lust had started to sparkle in his body and welcomed it, encouraged it. Hers was clear as well. Mitchell let his hand slip a little bit farther up, his eyes dancing between her thigh and her very own eyes. He wanted to see her reaction as much as he wanted to explore that little bit of skin more. “Or would you like it just a little bit higher?” he asked, as his fingertips brushed the rim of her hotpants. Maryanne would have chuckled if it had been in her to do so. But all she could manage was clearing her throat. She didn’t dare try to utter anything witty, as it would have come out as nothing more than squeaky nonsense. And right at that moment, she didn’t want to sound like George. After a moment, and it was just that, of collecting herself. “A bit higher might be nice.” She managed without a single break, though it had been work to sound so cool about it, when nothing else about her screamed cool. It took every ounce of control not to shift his hand for him. Not to turn and take hold of his shirt and haul him closer. But god did she want to. How had this become so charged? Had it been when she walked into the room? “How daring,” he teased and moved his hand up a bit, pushing his thumb under her hot pants. He let his finger brush over her clit. Mitchell was starting to forget about everything else around him. Someone could have walked into the room and he wouldn’t have noticed it. He wouldn’t have cared anyway. He wanted her and he wanted her now. Maryanne didn’t hide the groan that purred in her throat. How enthralling that first touch was. It was enough to push her control to its brink. Without thinking about it, without anything at all really, she turned to face him. Taking hold of the open front of his shirt she brought him to her. Meeting his lips with her own. It was different. Kissing a ghost. But it was a good different, all the same. Her fingers stayed wound in his shirt. She was half tempted to crawl into his chair with him. Yet she held back. Kept this down to maybe a heavy petting make out sort of thing. But god she wanted to crawl into his lap, unzip his trousers, maybe drop her own. She didn’t care that they were in the club, where just anyone could walk in. Didn’t that sort of thing happen in dark corners in sparkly clubs all the time? Everything was just intoxicating. Her neediness, her sexiness. God, they barely knew each other. No, he barely knew her. But that had always been part of the thrill. No strings attached. No feelings he needed to keep in mind. Mitchell didn’t want to hold back. He wanted to fuck her. Right now. Feel her tightness around him. He took her hand and pushed it right onto his erection, moaning at the rush that went through his body. Maybe if he could find seconds to concentrate well enough, he could get her out of her hot pants. That was all the encouragement she needed. Her fingers stroked over the straining fabric, the enticing hardness just long enough for her to ease over onto his chair with him. Her thighs settled on either side of his hips. Pulling back only enough, once she was that close, so that she could look into his eyes. Her fingers curled into the bottom of the camisole. Pulling it up and off in one swift motion. Dropping it back not caring where it landed. Once that half was done, she eased her arms over his shoulders. She held her lips within an inch of his. The question hanging, if she could just simply unbutton and unzip, and possibly ruin the ‘short’ part of her pants, and give into what she wanted. So very badly. Unconsciously, Mitchell raised his hips when she settled over him. He wanted to feel her closer, wanted some sort of relief. There was close to no concentration left. His thoughts strayed and his mind went crazy as he continued to focus on her hot pants and tried to picture them in his hand. Seconds later he had done the trick. As if he had just won a trophy he glanced at them in his hands before he did something only few new champions did: he tossed the trophy away. His hands sprang to his trousers and zipped them open. The less he got undressed, the less he needed to focus. He unbuckled the belt and opened the button. And finally, he could release his erection. Maryanne only paused long enough to admire his handy work. Naked in just a few seconds and she didn’t even have to move. “That’s some skill you have.” She purred in admiration. But that was all the time she wasted, hand sliding down his shirt, shifting between them, she positioned him just so. If she wasn’t already aching, already wanting to the brink of insanity, she might have paused to admire. She might have given moment to ease down him and take his arousal into her mouth and savor the chilly flesh. As it was, though, it was painful enough to stop long enough to position him properly. Hands on his shoulders she eased her hips down. She didn’t stop until he was completely inside her. Heat clashing with cold had her panting, groans rumbling at the bottom of each breath. “Yeah,” Mitchell breathed. He wanted to add something witty. Something smart. But his head felt more or less like porridge. He didn’t feel smart. He couldn’t even think straight for a second. All he felt was horny. His hips buckled up as she began to move around him. The shadow of warmth and heat wrapped around him. But the tightness was there in its full glory and it was mindblowing. Suddenly, the ghost bit her neck. It wasn’t enough to hurt but firm nonetheless. There were no fangs that could sink into her flesh, no blood was drawn. It was a simple reflex. He didn’t need to control himself. He wasn’t dangerous anymore. It was enough that it urged her to cry out. “Holy fuck.” Hot enough that it caused her whole body to buck against his, even if he didn’t break skin. Maryanne was fairly sure, up until that point, that she’d never thought being bitten would be a hot button. But he wasn’t a vampire anymore, and in that moment it was a driving force. Like a lightening bolt clean down her spine. She was torn between leaning back, against the table, and staying where she was, just so he could do that again. Staying won out as her hands crept up his chest, pressing just enough to give her leverage to raise up and lower down onto him. Maryanne could see how that would become an addiction. She understood, just a little more, about what the other Mitchell had to fight. Hell she was fighting not to tell this one to do it again. Mitchell’s eyes widened in shock at her outcry. He let go off her immediately. Shit, what had he done? He wasn’t that thing anymore. Before he could stammer an apology, he noticed how unphased she was. She even seemed to like it. And then the sensations he felt told him to not care, to just do what he wanted because it felt oh-so good. Mitchell was free: here and now. Moments later he let his teeth press against her skin again. It was a gesture more sexual to him than fucking could ever be. Blood held no control over him anymore but the memories still lingered. The rush that normally followed the biting, greater than any orgasm. She hadn’t meant to startle him, though it had startled her, not the bite but the fact that it had a beeline straight for her nether region. Maryanne was quite glad that he only paused for a moment. That the shocked look seemed to wipe from his face rather quickly, in fact. She didn’t even care if there was a mark later, when he bit down on her again. She simply groaned out her appreciation. Her fingers moving to slide into his hair. It was much easier to move her hips at a faster pace. To ride against him. And in that moment she knew there was no way she’d be able to separate a feeding bite from a sexual one. “I think you’ve just ruined me for all vampire kind.” She teased, her voice breathy, tone throatier than usual. Leaning her head back so that he had better access to the rest of her neck. She gave permission without words. He could bite her wherever he wanted. Especially if it felt like that. “You can... thank me... for saving your life... later,” Mitchell mumbled into her neck, stopping whenever his mind blanked out.. “Fuck!” The word was added for good measure. He could feel his body getting closer. There was a warmth he rarely felt. A pressure that built up. He wanted it now and never. He craved to reach that point but didn’t want it to stop. Nonetheless, he picked up speed. His thrusts got needier, harder and deeper. His shoulder and neck nibbling just a little bit more intense. She had a witty response, but it died on her tongue the moment he picked up speed. The moment those teeth seemed to get a little more tight. “Jesus Christ,” she whispered. She was going to explode. Her fingers were already starting to tingle. Her toes already numb. Her arms shifted so that she could cradle his head against her. Not wanting the biting to stop. It was almost as if she needed it now. Or in this moment at least. She also needed the leverage to keep up. Especially if she wanted that glorious orgasm that seemed just at her fingertips grasp. Mitchell could bite back the orgasm for a couple of seconds. But one last thrust and he was over the edge. Sparks shot through his body. His arms clung to her a little bit tighter and his bite became a little bit harder. Holy mother fucking god! He had needed that. Whether it was his orgasm, or the bite, she wouldn't analyze it. All that mattered to Maryanne was that it was brought on, and with a cry it was obvious to the rest of the world that she hit that much needed bolt of orgasm. Or at least to anyone that was in the area. Slumping forward, after a few minutes of rigidity. She rest her forehead on his shoulder. “Holy fucking hot pants, batman, I needed that.” Maryanne shivered in the delightful after effects, while her body felt like it was nothing more than a mold of hot gooey jello. “Casper,” Mitchell mumbled. “It’s Casper now.” He leaned back against the bench, needing all the physical support he could get. There were red marks on her neck that might soon develop into more colourful spots. There was a slight feeling of guilt that was soon pushed away. She had wanted this, had needed it. What were a few bruises anyway? The mumble had her sitting up. “What?” She couldn’t help but chuckle with the question. “Here I thought it was Jesus.” Teasingly Maryanne pronounced it he-sus. Hadn’t he made her cry out Jesus Christ? It seemed rather fitting, seeing as he was a spirit and all. Far more fitting than Casper. Maryanne knew she needed to get up. She needed to move. But her legs protested, hell the rest of her protested right along with them. “So did you leave me with some awesome hickeys that I’ll be able to show off?” Again she teased, just to show that she was okay with what he’d done. Hell it had been awesome. And she definitely was not going to complain. |