Author's Note: This chapter took me several weeks to write (love scenes- so tricky!) anywayz- this chappie feature's mr manson's favourite drink (absinthe) and white chocolate. Go on- read it, you know you want to ;)
Disclaimer: hmm... I don't own the Matrix
Green faerie party
There in the centre, Wynter lies, simpering and moaning like a crazed whore while arching her back to expose her small, exquisitely shaped breasts and erect nipples. Above her is Neil, heaving himself into his woman; every slick thrust is met with groan from both parties as the pleasure encases their groins. His crimson eyes are lustfully concentrated on her, lips slightly open as his breath is pushed out in small, pale clouds.
'You-' Neil whispers huskily, 'are so beautiful.' Wynter moans in reply and pouts her lips seductively.
'Then kiss me.' She says, 'Kiss me.' Neil moves in for a passionate kiss, tasting her lips as he strokes her tongue with his. He begins to softly tease her nipples.
'I love you. Love me?'
'Of course darling. Now bite me- bite me hard.' Wynter purrs. Neil proceeds to trail his tongue just above the breast and begins to suckle. He works harder and harder as pleasure mounts higher and higher. Soon, the skin breaks and blood begins to trickle out. It pools on the skin before separating into finger like streams.
Neil raises himself for air as he climaxes with the bounty hunter, both screaming and wailing helplessly. He raises Wynter up and places her between the silky pillows. Slowly, he trails his hands down her breasts, onto the hips, smoothing her thighs, ending at her muscular calves. Still keeping her gaze, kisses inside the knee and works softly down to her crotch.
'You certainly know how to please a girl.' She mumbles while she grips her supple lips with her teeth.
'Oh! And I don't?' A voice replies in playful jealousy.
'Adrian- my silver stag! Come to me darling!' Wynter calls, looking over her shoulder to see the second twin. He smiles, giving her a passionate kiss.
'What have you been drinking?' She asks gazing into his beautiful eyes. He dips a finger into his cocktail glass and sweeps it across her swollen lips, watching intently as the green liquid seeps into the crevice of her mouth.
'Guess.' He whispers.
'Mmm...Absinthe.' She moaned, moving her tongue out her mouth to lick the rest of the flavour from Adrian's finger. Adrian withdraws his digit and scrapes white chocolate from a crystal bowl. Teasingly, he hold it up above her face- just out of reach. 'Awwh!' Wynter wails, 'Give it to me!' she deftly moves to catch some of the melted confection.
'Ouch! You nipped me!' Adrian cries.
'Poor baby- want me to kiss it better?'
'Yes, it hurts.' Wynter takes his hand and suckles at the candy-coated finger like a baby; she doesn't stop until all traces of sweetness are gone. In the meantime, Adrian nuzzles her jaw affectionately while toying with her breasts.
Merovingian stared at his sleek, clear screen. Fingering a small glass of green, pungent liqueur. Licking his lips of the harsh liquid, whispered-
'Nice, very nice mmm...' he laid back in the comfortable red chair and purred at the growing sensation between his loins. 'Beautiful, machine-created perfection...'
'What are you doing?' A quaint french voice called from behind him. The jealousy flowing out with every uttered syllable.
'Looking.'
'At what?'
'You talk too much dear wife. Away with you! Go out shopping, get your nails done- do something that doesn't involve you moping around ze place.'
'Bastard!' She growled, storming away burying her manicured nails into her palms.
'Fare thee well my sleek, white princes.' Wynter purred to the henchmen as they floated away. They looked as flawless as two quaint china dolls; no bruise, nor blemish graced their fine figures. Grabbing her clothes, she makes her way to the bathroom and feels the painful, chilling bite of the still, absinthe-stenched air against her moist flesh. She needs hot water to cleanse and bring some warmth into her numb, frozen fingers. Upon drying herself, Wynter realises that her magazine is empty.
'Oh shit!' She whispers, 'God, I hope I have some spares...' she rummages through her purse. 'Mirror, lipstick, digital camera, swiss army knife, razor but not one bloody bullet- shit shit shit!' Wynter knew she could easily get by without her gun- her private stash was down a couple of blocks; that was no problem. Her problem was agents, agents who were constantly on her tail. She would never be able to defend herself against them. 'Hang on!' She thought. 'I have an idea...'
'Damn! None in here either!' She closed the drawer, all seemed lost. That was until- she saw the Merovingian's prised pistol secured in a glass cabinet. Carefully, she prised the weapon from its translucent tomb. 'Sorry Mero, I'll return it. But now, I really needs this...' She whispered quietly in the dark room. The silence was broken when the gun fell from her grasp and landed with a metallic crash.
'I don't think you'll be needing that.' A cold, superior voice spoke. Wynter's screams and yelps were subdued by a pair of large, strong hands. Within an instant, she releases a forceful, calculated kick and drew her razor.
'What the hell do you think you're doing? Who are you?' She hisses,
'Whatever the hell I like.' the intruder replies.
She lunges a stab at the invisible adversary. With inhuman finesse, he hits her hard across the cheek. The cold snap of vertebrae contrasts with her high-pitched scream before she passed into unconsciousness.
'And you're coming with me...'
What happens next?