As he saw the unbroken red of Claire's eyes, Darien grinned.
One of his insufferable expressions, as if he controlled the world and loved watching it dance at his whim.
Claire snarled. Her hand flashed up to his throat. She clenched her fingers until the knuckles went white.
"You think you've got this all planned, don't you?" She lifted up with a madwoman's strength, swinging him around until it was she pinning him against the wall.
His grin stayed put, even as his face began to flush from the restricted blood supply. "You want it rough? Huh? I can handle that....bring it on!" His voice, though barely a whisper, was confident and in control.
That grin was infuriating Claire. Her hands busy with his throat, her lip curled and she leaned forward to bite it off his face. His lips evaded her snapping teeth, opening wide to envelop her mouth in a kiss, and her erratic emotions were spun in an entirely different direction. She couldn't see the grin any more, after all.....and his lips were warm and soft, his body lean and firm and so close to hers.
Her hand loosened and slid around to the back of his neck, pulling him closer. Her other hand slid beneath his shirt and across his chest.
Stage four was erratic, unpredictable, easily distracted or redirected. She knew that. She'd used that. Taken advantage of it. But she'd never understood it before. Never understood how powerful the impulses could be, or how suddenly and completely they could turn.
She wanted. She needed. She took.
She wanted his flesh. She pulled at his shirt, stretching it, almost tearing it before Darien calmly slid it up over his head.
He began working at the buttons of her blouse. Yes, good idea. She wanted his hands on her. He was too slow. She pulled until threads tore.
She could feel the grin under her mouth. Smug. Self-satisfied. It reminded her she was angry with him. She dug her fingernails into his back. She wanted to hear him gasp, to cry out, to hurt.
Stage five was beyond pain. He pulled her shirt downward, the sleeves trapping her arms, and did something to tie it behind her. "Oh, yeah, I can do rough...."
The restraint frustrated her, angered her. She wanted to feel him, to hurt or to enjoy. But she was also free to feel the excitement of it. The danger. It turned her on.
She struggled to free her arms. It wasn't a serious restraint and she could feel it give. But the fight was a part of the game now. She couldn't take him, before, when she was sane, but now? Now, with her own mad strength, she could fight him. Her foot swept behind his, to the back of his knees, and he tumbled to the floor, but he was still holding her and she couldn't use her arms to catch her own balance as he pulled her down on top of him.
This was good. This was fun. She straddled him, pushing him against the hard cement floor, freeing her arms and pressing down on his shoulders. His head lifted, and she brought her mouth down to his. Warm, sweet, tingling lips.....
She pulled away, laughing at the way his mouth followed hers as far up as it could. Maybe her control was only an illusion, maybe he could topple her any time he chose and was allowing her to force him down, to keep her interested. She didn't care. She only knew it felt good.
She pulled his wrists up above his head, held them down with one hand as her other felt behind her for a torn piece of clothing. Nothing was within reach.
She allowed his hands to wander back to her skin, trying to feel her breasts but meeting the satin of her bra instead. Frustrating to both of them. He worked the clasp loose, pulled it along her arms, the elastic and cloth holding them a foot apart. She held them up over both their heads, straightened out all the way, so that by the time it reached her hands and was free, his arms were also stretched out almost to their full length.
Seizing the opportunity, she pulled his wrists together and tied them. It would have been painfully tight, but there was no pain for Darien at this point. Only sensation.
He tried to pull away, to sit up, but for the moment, her angle and leverage were better. After a couple of teasing attempts, he stopped trying and waited to see what she'd do next.
The handle to the fire door was so conveniently close. She snaked cloth through it and tied tightly.
Darien was sitting up partway now, his back against the door. It struck her as an awkward, vulnerable position. Her hands ran down the inside of his wrists, his elbows, across the soft flesh of the inside of his upper arms....yes, very vulnerable.
They continued across his ribs, down, down, until they met that frustrating cloth. It was in her way. She shoved at it roughly before remembering there was an easier way. First the belt, then the button, then the zipper. That gave enough slack.
She tickled and teased around his belly button with her lips and tongue while her fingers found a solid grip at his waistline and began pulling down.
A sudden sound distracted her. It took her a moment to realize it was an electronic chirping. Coming from his pants pocket.
She worked the cell phone loose, pressing it against his skin as she did so.
"Is someone happy to see me?" she joked as it chirped again.
Crossed impulses. Curiosity to see who it was, and a desire to hurl it across the room and smash it so they wouldn't be interrupted again.
She flipped open the display. Caller ID. "Ooh, Darien....it's Bobby. Can Bobby come and play too?"
Bits of frozen cloth and elastic fell to the floor, and Darien shook his hands to shed them of their flakes. "Sure," he said, the grin firmly back in place. "Why not?"
"Ooh, shh, shh, let me!" Claire was grinning too as she hit the pick-up button.
She whispered, putting a little tremor of fear into her voice. "Hello? Hello, is someone there?"
"Claire???" Hobbes' voice was staticy with layers of parking garage surrounding them. "Claire, are you with Darien?" The fear in his voice told her that he knew. Knew about his partner, anyway....
"Bobby, thank god! I'm so scared, Bobby....."
"Has he hurt you?" That protective side. So predictable.
"I'm hiding....please, help me....." she whispered, her lips brushing the mouthpiece. She winked broadly at Darien. "I think he's getting closer...."
"Where are you, Claire?"
Darien had eased the door open as far as the chain would allow. "A parking garage....I think...." He let the door swing shut, closing with an echoing slam. Claire gasped theatrically. "Hurry, Bobby!"
Darien called her name, quietly, just loud enough for the cell phone to pick it up. "Claire...."
She punched the button, cutting Hobbes off, and dissolved into giggles.
Claire drew her arm back to hurl the phone across the room, but Darien caught her wrist and took the phone away gently. "He can't trace it if it's smashed. I mean, c'mon, Robert's good, but he does need *something* to go on."
He set the phone down, safely out of the way, with one hand, while the other one, holding her wrist, guided her empty hand back down to the muscles of his abdomen.
"Now, where were we?"
One of his insufferable expressions, as if he controlled the world and loved watching it dance at his whim.
Claire snarled. Her hand flashed up to his throat. She clenched her fingers until the knuckles went white.
"You think you've got this all planned, don't you?" She lifted up with a madwoman's strength, swinging him around until it was she pinning him against the wall.
His grin stayed put, even as his face began to flush from the restricted blood supply. "You want it rough? Huh? I can handle that....bring it on!" His voice, though barely a whisper, was confident and in control.
That grin was infuriating Claire. Her hands busy with his throat, her lip curled and she leaned forward to bite it off his face. His lips evaded her snapping teeth, opening wide to envelop her mouth in a kiss, and her erratic emotions were spun in an entirely different direction. She couldn't see the grin any more, after all.....and his lips were warm and soft, his body lean and firm and so close to hers.
Her hand loosened and slid around to the back of his neck, pulling him closer. Her other hand slid beneath his shirt and across his chest.
Stage four was erratic, unpredictable, easily distracted or redirected. She knew that. She'd used that. Taken advantage of it. But she'd never understood it before. Never understood how powerful the impulses could be, or how suddenly and completely they could turn.
She wanted. She needed. She took.
She wanted his flesh. She pulled at his shirt, stretching it, almost tearing it before Darien calmly slid it up over his head.
He began working at the buttons of her blouse. Yes, good idea. She wanted his hands on her. He was too slow. She pulled until threads tore.
She could feel the grin under her mouth. Smug. Self-satisfied. It reminded her she was angry with him. She dug her fingernails into his back. She wanted to hear him gasp, to cry out, to hurt.
Stage five was beyond pain. He pulled her shirt downward, the sleeves trapping her arms, and did something to tie it behind her. "Oh, yeah, I can do rough...."
The restraint frustrated her, angered her. She wanted to feel him, to hurt or to enjoy. But she was also free to feel the excitement of it. The danger. It turned her on.
She struggled to free her arms. It wasn't a serious restraint and she could feel it give. But the fight was a part of the game now. She couldn't take him, before, when she was sane, but now? Now, with her own mad strength, she could fight him. Her foot swept behind his, to the back of his knees, and he tumbled to the floor, but he was still holding her and she couldn't use her arms to catch her own balance as he pulled her down on top of him.
This was good. This was fun. She straddled him, pushing him against the hard cement floor, freeing her arms and pressing down on his shoulders. His head lifted, and she brought her mouth down to his. Warm, sweet, tingling lips.....
She pulled away, laughing at the way his mouth followed hers as far up as it could. Maybe her control was only an illusion, maybe he could topple her any time he chose and was allowing her to force him down, to keep her interested. She didn't care. She only knew it felt good.
She pulled his wrists up above his head, held them down with one hand as her other felt behind her for a torn piece of clothing. Nothing was within reach.
She allowed his hands to wander back to her skin, trying to feel her breasts but meeting the satin of her bra instead. Frustrating to both of them. He worked the clasp loose, pulled it along her arms, the elastic and cloth holding them a foot apart. She held them up over both their heads, straightened out all the way, so that by the time it reached her hands and was free, his arms were also stretched out almost to their full length.
Seizing the opportunity, she pulled his wrists together and tied them. It would have been painfully tight, but there was no pain for Darien at this point. Only sensation.
He tried to pull away, to sit up, but for the moment, her angle and leverage were better. After a couple of teasing attempts, he stopped trying and waited to see what she'd do next.
The handle to the fire door was so conveniently close. She snaked cloth through it and tied tightly.
Darien was sitting up partway now, his back against the door. It struck her as an awkward, vulnerable position. Her hands ran down the inside of his wrists, his elbows, across the soft flesh of the inside of his upper arms....yes, very vulnerable.
They continued across his ribs, down, down, until they met that frustrating cloth. It was in her way. She shoved at it roughly before remembering there was an easier way. First the belt, then the button, then the zipper. That gave enough slack.
She tickled and teased around his belly button with her lips and tongue while her fingers found a solid grip at his waistline and began pulling down.
A sudden sound distracted her. It took her a moment to realize it was an electronic chirping. Coming from his pants pocket.
She worked the cell phone loose, pressing it against his skin as she did so.
"Is someone happy to see me?" she joked as it chirped again.
Crossed impulses. Curiosity to see who it was, and a desire to hurl it across the room and smash it so they wouldn't be interrupted again.
She flipped open the display. Caller ID. "Ooh, Darien....it's Bobby. Can Bobby come and play too?"
Bits of frozen cloth and elastic fell to the floor, and Darien shook his hands to shed them of their flakes. "Sure," he said, the grin firmly back in place. "Why not?"
"Ooh, shh, shh, let me!" Claire was grinning too as she hit the pick-up button.
She whispered, putting a little tremor of fear into her voice. "Hello? Hello, is someone there?"
"Claire???" Hobbes' voice was staticy with layers of parking garage surrounding them. "Claire, are you with Darien?" The fear in his voice told her that he knew. Knew about his partner, anyway....
"Bobby, thank god! I'm so scared, Bobby....."
"Has he hurt you?" That protective side. So predictable.
"I'm hiding....please, help me....." she whispered, her lips brushing the mouthpiece. She winked broadly at Darien. "I think he's getting closer...."
"Where are you, Claire?"
Darien had eased the door open as far as the chain would allow. "A parking garage....I think...." He let the door swing shut, closing with an echoing slam. Claire gasped theatrically. "Hurry, Bobby!"
Darien called her name, quietly, just loud enough for the cell phone to pick it up. "Claire...."
She punched the button, cutting Hobbes off, and dissolved into giggles.
Claire drew her arm back to hurl the phone across the room, but Darien caught her wrist and took the phone away gently. "He can't trace it if it's smashed. I mean, c'mon, Robert's good, but he does need *something* to go on."
He set the phone down, safely out of the way, with one hand, while the other one, holding her wrist, guided her empty hand back down to the muscles of his abdomen.
"Now, where were we?"