Title: temperament

Prompt: Rose3 Bro: Remember that time when Bro had a female on his hands (and couldn't stop wanting to fuck that satisfied smirk right off her face)?

A/N: I'm actually surprised I could write this. XD I probably will never be able to do this again.

Summary: She smirks at him and he doesn't know if he's angry or aroused.

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It isn't going according to plan. Not that he has a plan—considering how the day started, he has no idea how he got here. How they got here.

But if he had a plan, it isn't going as planned. Not in the least.

"Is that all you got?" Rose asks, examining her nails. Her lipstick is smeared—he knows if he looked in a mirror, he'd find her mark all over him.

He left his own all over her neck, a trail of bites that he half wishes went lower. Her hair is mussed but the longer and longer he stares at it, the more it falls back into perfect shape.

And that smirk, that incredibly aggravating smirk, it hasn't left her face.

He remembers exactly how they got here now.

"Honestly, I'm a little disappointed," she confesses, still examining her nails. She has a file out now and punctuates her words with a small wave of it. "I expected more from a Strider."

A beat passes. He doesn't know if he's angry or aroused.

A mix of both, probably. She looks up at him now, her eyes dark and inviting. Her lips twist slightly, her smirk turning a tad bit crueler. "Especially from Dave's brother."

Her lips form her next words slowly and clearly. "I thought you could beat him in that department."

Aroused. Definitely aroused. She puts the file down now and gets up from where she's sitting. It's elegant, how she moves across the room to him. Just what would it take to strip her of that grace, to reduce her to a raw form?

"I had high hopes." Her finger traces his cheek and trails down his jaw. Onto his open chest and he suppresses a shiver as she stops just north of his pants. She leans close now, her lips brushing his ear. Her tongue flicks out, swiping the tip of his ear, and her voice is low as she adds, "I guess I was wrong."

The smirk is still on her face as she pulls back and next thing he knows, they're in the bedroom. Her damned lips are crushed under his and even now he can still feel her smirk.

"Better," she drawls in the morning, her limbs sprawled. "Much better."

The smirk hasn't left.

She hasn't either and he counts that as a small victory.