InsaneJournal

Who: Scud + Flemeth
What: Chatting and wrestling.
When: 4/12, after this thread.
Where: Flemeth's shop.
Rating: R for handwaved sexytimes.
Status: Complete.



To say it wasn’t like Scud to just go someplace to meet someone after random invitation would be a lie - particularly when it involved heavy flirtation with a person who was clearly confident. He liked confidence in a person (man or woman didn’t matter much, it just so happened that this time it was a woman), liked when people made fast, interesting decisions. He liked going on that sort of ride.

Scud didn’t have one particular car -- he worked at an autobody shop and just sort of shifted through vehicles that had been sold off -- working on them and reselling them as he liked. It worked well for him. This month he was rocking a particularly loud pick-up truck. He’d need to look into that noise, he noted, even as he shut it off and pocketed the keys.

Flemeth was her name, and Scud honestly didn’t know anything about the woman other than the fact that she was a bit older, and owned a shop. And she was confident. The shop wasn’t quite what he’d expected - then again, he hadn’t known what to expect so there was that.

The shop looked like it had been a house once, if only because it had been around the turn of the century. Flemeth hadn’t really bothered changing things much. She could’ve chosen to live on the second floor, but she kept those rooms open for when girls under her employ needed a safe place to stay. On the bottom floor, where her wares lived - that was just a front.

Flemeth worked in subtle ways, manipulating politicians and laws to suit her, as well as moving a variety of illicit substances. She also had a number of people working the world’s oldest profession for her, but that was mostly to help her with the politicians. Their weaknesses were easy.

When she heard a loud pickup truck outside, she chuckled, lighting a joint and sprawling out in her favorite chair. She wore a black silk kimono and nothing else. A cat drowsed on a windowsill. Technically the shop was closed, and her time was her own.

Scud liked the homey look of the place -- the little plants outside and the tiny set of steps leading up for the door. It was comfortable; the kind he liked - nothing corporate, nothing that made him think of getting up at eight am to get to work by nine. It was a little odd though -- because even though this place was a shop of some kind, it’s house-like appearance made him falter at the doorway, as if not quite sure if he was just meant to walk in, or if he was meant to knock. He hadn’t really lied when he said he wasn’t a creep. Sure, he was kind of rough around the edges, not exactly cut from any proper sort of mold, but that didn’t mean he was a barge in and dick around kind of guy. Scud was a people pleaser, thanks much.

He settled, in the end with a doorknob wiggle and a lazily called out “Hullo?”

“In the room to your right. Lock the door after you, will you?” She had hooked her legs over one of the arms of her chair, blowing lazy smoke rings at the ceiling. Nudity clearly didn’t bother her - she’d been just old enough to be more of a child of the seventies rather than the eighties - and she smiled when she saw a young man with broad shoulders enter her shop. “I’m closed, technically. Don’t worry, nobody will bother us. Would you like?” She meant the joint, which she held out to him.

Scud locked the door as was requested of him before finding his way into the aforementioned room. He looked out of place here, he was sure. Flemeth was lovely in that mature and certain of herself sort of way, nearly naked. And then there he was in heavy boots and too-baggy pants, tacky black t-shirt with a logo for something he didn’t even know what it was on it.

To his credit he didn’t seem awkward about the differences at all, only smiled a half tilt of a smile and took the joint with a hand that was clearly experienced in the art of smoking. It’d been a while, though he could no longer remember why. “Thanks,” he said, and saw no reason to not flop down on the floor in-front of her chair, and so he did. “The black tie would suit you,” he said after a toke.

Grinning, she reached out with one long leg, running her toe over his knee. “Maybe you can show me. later on.” She took the joint back, taking a hit and smirking. “So, what do you do, Scud? ... please, tell me that’s a nickname.”

Crossing her legs, she blew a smoke ring, beaming at him and smirking.

It was a rare day when Scud could find someone equally good in the art of blowing smoke rings. He approved wholeheartedly. Automatically, he moved his hands to her foot, massaging the pad of it with expert fingers. “It’s a nickname,” he admitted with another lopsided smile, although did not say how, why, or what his real name was. Just Scud. He liked it, even if it did sound silly, and a little sleazy. “I’m a mechanic, mostly.”

Mmph. She hadn’t been expecting that, and she wiggled her toes in pleasure. “Explains the strong hands,” she murmured, leaning forward to hand him the joint once more. Moving off of the chair so she was on his level, smiling to herself. “Thank you for coming over. I’m getting antisocial in my old age, it’s nice to have people visit.”

“Oh, you know,” Scud said, even as he took the joint back, “ain’t one for sayin’ no when a lady suggests a visit.” He inhaled again, held the smoke in his lungs for a time, and then let it out slowly, with a little ring trick of his own. He hadn’t really expected her to move to sit near him on the floor. It was her place, after all. “And you don’t seem all that antisocial.” He didn’t really think her old, either, but didn’t really need brownie points, so didn’t bother saying so.

“Ah, you’re like me.” Flemeth chuckled to herself. “I never did turn down a favor when the chance presents itself.” Sexual or otherwise, really. Purring, she leaned back against the chair, her blonde hair streaming down around her shoulders. “Never could get the tom cat out of me. It’s why I didn’t get married again after my first one went south.”

“Maybe,” Scud agreed easily, taking one more pull from the joint before handing it back. It was good stuff. “Never been married myself. Then, never much saw a reason for it.” Favors, though, she was right about. Scud never really said no -- then again, he’d never stuck in one place for long enough to have any of his good karma build up for redeeming, either.

“I was eighteen, nobody’s smart at that age.” She smiled, accepting the joint and setting it in an ash tray. She had loads more, she wasn’t too worried about it burning down. Moving to sit in his lap, she smiled at him. “Well. If you didn’t get married, then maybe you were smart back then.”

“Nah,” he said -- because nothing was a simple word of yes or no, because nothing couldn’t not be said lazily, and in his own strange style. He settled his hands on her waist -- fingers spread wide against half silk and half skin. “I was stupid then, too. Probably still am. Just in different ways.” His lips were a little torn from how much he gnawed on them, but that didn’t stop him pressing kissed down her neck.

“I don’t think you’re that stupid. You’re doing the right thing now.” She closed her eyes, sighing contentedly. Life was so much easier when people weren’t idiots and did what she expected them to. Her fingernails ran over the back of his neck, nails leaving little kitten scratches in their wake.

In response to that, he only gave another crooked smile and a half raise of his shoulders. Even his shrugs were lazy, comfortable. The right thing was always a questionable sort of thing -- then again, he suspected that since he knew that it was probably the case he wasn’t stupid at all.

The scratches, he would take and happily so; his hands moved -- his fingers practiced and his nails stained with oil enough that the color might never come out -- to remove that silk kimono from her shoulders and let it slide down her arms until it was more an afterthought of clothing than anything else. “Maybe,” he said again.

He was a bit like a cat, and Flemeth was very good with felines. She was expert at finding the best places to make them purr, so she set to unbuttoning his shirt. More skin, more places to explore.

Her long hair had moved over her shoulders instead of down her back, and she leaned in to nibble his neck in turn, liking that he tasted faintly of grit, of musk, of something dark.

In turn, he moved his head up slightly -- tilting it to give her a further expanse of neck to explore, even while he offered tiny harmless nibbles on her earlobe in exchange. For many people showing up to a strangers’ home for random sex would probably be awkward -- Scud was sure he didn’t feel that though. He seemed just as home doing this as he had been smoking the joint or might be working on a car. It was all in good fun.

Fun was fleeting, and best taken whenever it could be had. Flemeth knew this as well as she knew anything, and she sighed contentedly. “If you don’t mind rugburn, this place is as good as any, yes?” She didn’t really have sex in beds often. They were always far away when she wanted it.

Beds were overrated when it came to things like sex. Scud had hopped from car to car across the country for over a decade and rarely to never thought ‘This would be better if we were on a bed’. He wasn’t going to start now.

“Rugburn never hurt anyone,” the younger man said, because he was an agreeable sort. Between face earlobe nibbling and happily received scratches he cupped her breasts in his hands, brushing and circling against her nipples with calloused thumbs.

And he wasn’t shy, either. She sighed to herself, shrugging off her kimono and tossing it aside. “Ah, but rugburn does hurt, and that’s half the fun, you know that.” She gently tugged his hair, tilting his head back to expose his neck so she could bite at the hollow below his Adam’s apple. Then tugging his shirt off, she chuckled to herself. She was known for being terrifying toward men, yet she’d brought this man over just to sleep with him. If her detractors could see her now.

Scud did know that. And since she did too, he didn’t really need to say anything more on the matter. Her laugh made him laugh, although he wasn’t really sure why -- shared amusement? There wasn’t a ton he could do with her on his lap other than sit there and enjoy the moment and keep his hands wandering until they found somewhere that was equally fun for the both of them.

Moving off of him, she tugged his shirt and trousers off, smirking to herself. Really, some people had a nightcap after work. Flemeth had younger men.

Naked worked for Scud -- although the boy was never really naked since he was always wearing some tacky necklace or bits of string around his wrist. The necklace was made of that strange leather thread and was a bit chewed on. Sometimes, after all, he was a place he couldn’t smoke and so his fingers, lips and jewelry took the brunt of his oral fixations.

He half sat, half kneeled fingers finding balance on the carpet. And because, like he’d said -- he wasn’t a total creep, he rose his eyebrows and tilted his head to the side a little bit like a curious pet. “How do y’like it?”

It was interesting that he was so considerate. “Essentially every way. If I don’t like it, I’ll tell you. How’s a sweet thing like you single? I figured someone would’ve scooped you up already.”

She stretched out on her back, curling her toes and smiling at him.

Scud shrugged again, and at this point it was just kind of a default. He did it basically all the time, even when he had an answer for something. “I don’t really do coupling,” he said, although it wasn’t strictly true. More like -- he didn’t do monogamous very well. Or had yet to find a reason to bother caring to try it. He crawled over her, pressing kisses into her skin as he moved up -- thigh, hip, stomach, breasts, collarbone.

“Mmm, a sentiment I understand very well. There’s so much to be said for novelty.” She ran her fingernails over his back, smiling when he kissed along her skin. One of the nicer things about being of a certain age was not having to worry about getting pregnant.

“Right,” Scud agreed, but it was hissed out with the way her nails went over his back, the word elongated. “Novelty,” like different flavors of ice cream, or a different state to visit every few months. Scud liked change.

Scud was a fan of not needing to worry about pregnancy either -- he wasn’t the fathering sort, and much less a child-support-payment sort. He assumed that this was the case here, since she hadn’t said anything. For the moment, it didn’t matter though; his hands would suffice. Even though he had the air of a fellow who was casual and more lazy than not, his fingers spoke a different story even as reached back and did not ask permission before pressing experimentally into her. No need for permission when this was what he was here for, after all.

Closing her eyes, she arched her back into his touch and smirked at him, appreciating that he was trying to turn her on, at least. Some men just weren’t considerate, and she could already feel herself growing a little fond of this one. At least in the way where she could probably help him post bail if he ever needed it.

Knowing Scud, he probably would, eventually. Not even because he was an inherently bad person, or even really a troublemaker. More because he tended to like being around and hanging out with people who were. He had quite the personality, himself, but was a bit of a magnet for those who had even stronger ones. Hey, not everyone could be a leader of men and he wasn’t. At least he was aware of it.

He nibbled her jaw line with a bite that was nice enough to not leave marks past the hour, settled his free hand on her waist.

Smirking lopsidedly, she pulled him closer, kissing him firmly, not really caring that it was an intimate act for a one off. You could tell a lot about someone by kissing them, and it helped her get to know him.

It was intimate; Scud himself had been avoiding it for that very reason -- because it seemed oddly impolite to want to do it (even if he wasn’t the most polite of people, and it was funny to think things like that sometimes). But if that was what she wanted, he certainly saw no reason against it. It wasn’t like this was a random encounter in a public park. And just like that, his kiss went from hesitant to firm -- Scud liked confident people because it was a good a reason as any to be just that himself.

Flemeth showed him just how confident she was until he came; she could’ve gone longer, but she was a woman. That was just how nature worked. Rolling onto her back, she lit a cigarette and smiled.

“Wow.” Scud stared up at the ceiling for a moment, pleased as any sort of guy could be in a situation like this (pretty pleased, thanks), but sat up at the sound of her lighter. The siren call of nicotine was strong. He glanced around the room, looking for his pants and his own pack.

She handed his pants over, smirking and stretching her legs out. “Thank you for that. I had a stressful day, I appreciate you being here.” She smiled at him, running her fingers through his hair.

He gave a near purr at that, and wiggled into his pants as if there were no better way to get into his pockets than by wearing the clothes in general. Once he’d found his smokes, he lit up with an easy click of a scuffed looking zippo. “Oh,” he said, slow and lazy. “Any time, really.”

“You’re a good sort,” she smiled, sitting up and putting her kimono back on. “Feel free to visit more often.”

“Will do,” Scud said, half amused even as he found his boots and tugged them back on. He’d long since learned the art of talking with a cigarette between his lips.

Chuckling to herself, Flemeth returned to her chair, taking her BlackBerry out and tapping out emails.