Allison Cameron (
as_damaged) wrote2009-10-15 08:10 pm
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☤ twenty-three
[voice;]
[For a moment there is nothing but quiet panting, someone trying to catch their breath. When she speaks it's in a low tone, stumbling over words. She's clearly just this side of a full panic.]
I figured I'd be fine as long as I just stayed in today, but I guess someone figured out I was at home. Every now and then I can-- [She pauses, and if you listen closely you can hear a heavy pounding in the background.] Can hear them trying to get in. I keep hoping they'll get bored and give up on me but so far...
[Cameron laughs quietly, obviously on edge.]
Midnight can't come quick enough... and it's not even Halloween yet. Can't wait to see what that brings....
[ooc; IT'S A TRAP. come and save her, she will try to eat you, and given that she's been taking self-defense lessons she might have more of a shot than otherwise expected >D If you are okay with being bitten/eaten/killed and tossed in the fridge for later munching, please to let me know ♥ ALSO PLEASE FORGIVE LATE POSTING I HAD A TEST. SOB.]
[For a moment there is nothing but quiet panting, someone trying to catch their breath. When she speaks it's in a low tone, stumbling over words. She's clearly just this side of a full panic.]
I figured I'd be fine as long as I just stayed in today, but I guess someone figured out I was at home. Every now and then I can-- [She pauses, and if you listen closely you can hear a heavy pounding in the background.] Can hear them trying to get in. I keep hoping they'll get bored and give up on me but so far...
[Cameron laughs quietly, obviously on edge.]
Midnight can't come quick enough... and it's not even Halloween yet. Can't wait to see what that brings....
[ooc; IT'S A TRAP. come and save her, she will try to eat you, and given that she's been taking self-defense lessons she might have more of a shot than otherwise expected >D If you are okay with being bitten/eaten/killed and tossed in the fridge for later munching, please to let me know ♥ ALSO PLEASE FORGIVE LATE POSTING I HAD A TEST. SOB.]
[come in to my parlor]
...Except when it comes to her. There's a moment of surprise at how casual the offer is, not that there's anything more to read into it, but he's been lucky to get more than a monosyllable thrown his way recently. If he'd known it would take cannibals to set them back on an even keel he might even have welcomed the curse this morning.
He's optimistic. He's tried to quit, but just keeps failing. "Thanks."
So he follows her into the relatively narrow confines of the apartment kitchen without a second thought, bag left carelessly behind at the door.
[come in to my parlor]
Now she's willing to use whatever works to get what she wants, and she smiles to herself as she pours a glass of wine, expression hidden as she turns to hand it to him.
"I appreciate it," she confides, tone guarded and eyes not quite meeting his. If the rest of her story were true, that would be as well; she resents the knight in shining armor act, but his loyalty is as endearing as it is infuriating.
[come in to my parlor]
She's grateful. It's nicer than a lot of the other emotions she's directed his way lately. He takes the glass and smiles around a sip.
"They didn't need me at the hospital," he explains, making his rush over here sound like a casual stroll to save her feeling like the damsel, "we can turn the TV on until it's over."
A glance at the wine as the flavour has a moment to sit on his palate, then he raises his eyebrows, "Is this Chianti?"
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Question answering question, a sly suggestion that she's more concerned with his pleasure than anything else. He should certainly be suspicious, but is there room in his mind for suspicion when she's standing this close?
And she is. Exactly how that happened is anyone's guess-- just a carefully careless step in his direction has brought her nearer than she's been since they fell apart, and though she isn't making any advances (yet,) she seems comfortable with this uncomfortable proximity. Cameron smirks, slightly, looking up at him.
[come in to my parlor]
Running his tongue across wine-stained lips, he looks back down at her from under his lashes, curious and unsure.
"Hi," he murmurs, soft, and lets the question of what she's doing sit obvious but unsaid. The explanation of what she wants is going to have to come from her side. Understanding her isn't always his strong point. Giving in, he's far better at.
[come in to my parlor]
She admires him like this for a moment, though the hunger in her gaze isn't the accustomed sort of affection. And when she stretches and leans to kiss his cheek, she's testing; tasting, savoring, trying to decide where to begin.
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He should stop her.
His hand goes to her shoulder, and then the other ruins all good intentions by moving to her waist. Still, he tips his head back. Out of reach, just.
"Maybe we should talk about this?"
[come in to my parlor]
she replies airily, lifting her hands to tug at his collar. Cheeks come highly recommended, but time enough for that later if he'd rather start elsewhere. The lips pressed against his throat are for his sake, to distract and mislead. The tongue sliding down, tracing the muscles underneath the skin, is for hers. So is the shove she gives his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders.
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"There are," he makes nervous excuses, giving her something she can latch onto so he doesn't have to ask are you sure? this time, "Cameron, there are cannibals outside."
The things she finds erotic are frankly terrifying, but not nearly so much as how easily he goes along.
[come in to my parlor]
And at last, starved and sick with anticipation, she bites down on his shoulder, the thick muscle above his collarbone caught up in her jaw as fully as she can manage.
[come in to my parlor]
Hand finally tugged from his cuff, he gently begins the process of nudging her back. "We should stop, you--"
Though not nudging her back enough that he avoids the clamp down of teeth into his flesh, much too hard to be pleasant. "Ow, bloody hell. That's not funny."
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She grabs his wrist, her grasp stronger and better place than one might expect from such a slight woman, and strains toward him again, lips pulled back from her teeth. It's a grotesque and uncanny sight, and if there was any doubt that she isn't joking, the fact that she's trying to take another bite out of him should dispel it.
[come in to my parlor]
Luckily for him, reality isn't too tardy about sinking in. "Oh hell," he growls, with the realisation that he's just been played two ways. Her grip on him is far tighter than it should be, but he manages to twist enough within it to present her with some solid arm muscle, rather than a spot near pressure points and arteries he'd sooner keep untouched.
"Cameron, you don't want to do this," he tries, grasping for something as he stumbles back against the cabinets.
[come in to my parlor]
As though that weren't assurance enough, she bends to snap at the arm she holds, still straining towards him. It's easy to see why he'd have misunderstood, why her act was so believable. She wants him against her, under her, in her; it's a parody of where they've been before. But for the first time he's right, and Cameron only wants him for his body.
[come in to my parlor]
"Fuck--" and although he's squirming under her, there's a concerted effort (through gritted teeth) not to pull away. While she's occupied, maybe he can just reach...
There. The syringe pen he'd tucked into the back pocket of his jeans, just to be on the safe side. Forcing his jaw to unclench enough to pull the cap off between his teeth, he looks down almost apologetically at her bent head.
"Sorry," he says, aiming for the most obvious patch of muscle to inject. It's lucky she wears thin pants. "You're going to be sore in the morning."
[come in to my parlor]
She stiffens and straightens at the needleprick, shooting him a wild, accusatory look that almost recalls sanity. Pulling away, she takes a wavery step backward, as though she's not quite sure what bit her. Or maybe she's just shocked to have been outsmarted.
Before she can gather her wits and poise to strike again, she sways, and begins to tumble.
[come in to my parlor]
"On the other hand," he comments, kneeling to lay her down before rubbing at the marks on his arm and shoulder. Think what she could do with sharpened canines. "Not as sore as I am."
[come in to my parlor] | some time later
She manages, shakily, to shove herself upright, stomach lurching from the motion and the memory of what she'd been trying to do when Chase managed to sedate her. Clever thinking; there are, after all, worse ways to wake up after a curse.
Hands over her face, all she can manage is a low, disgusted sound. Whether it's a reaction to her current state or her previous one is anyone's guess.
[come in to my parlor]
Two wine glasses and a glass of water sit on the table between them. Chase leans forward to nudge the water closer her way, asking the obvious question, "How are you feeling?"
[come in to my parlor]
Though muffled by her hands, she's perfectly comprehensible. Her fingers curl into her palms, uncovering tired eyes. She stares at him briefly-- surveying the damage, maybe, or wishing she could forfeit consciousness again. Though she suspects the latter wouldn't make her feel any better; sedation itself is somehow exhausting.
She doesn't reach for the glass until he's leaned back in his seat, kept by pride or embarrassment from saying thank you.
[come in to my parlor]
He should be allowed one little joke, right? It's not particularly dangerous territory, particularly as Cameron looks more in need of some hot cocoa and fluffy pillows than a mask and straitjacket right now. "Sedative will give you a bitch of a headache if you don't let your body sleep it off."
[come in to my parlor]
Maybe she really is overtired, because she almost smiles back. Almost. She places the glass down a little too heavily, sparing a faint scowl at the thick clank.
"Yes, doctor," she sighs, with a minimal amount of venom in her tone. In fact, with a bit of fondness. She bit him; he'd have been well within his rights to leave her passed out on the kitchen floor. But of course, he never would. He didn't. She owes a little civility for that.
"How much did you give me, anyway?"
[come in to my parlor]
He pushes up from the chair, working out a crick in his neck and testing how much he can move his shoulder without feeling the bruise. Then he offers an arm to her. "Need a hand?"
[come in to my parlor]
Steadying herself, she tries to stand on her own, lips quirking down a little when she can't. Her facade of helplessness seems ironic now, as she takes his hand to pull herself up. Cameron sways, but steadies herself, letting go and managing to stand alone. Damned if she'll lean on him.
"I'll see you to the door?"
[come in to my parlor]
"Why don't I see you to yours?", he indicates the bedroom, because he'd be happier knowing she hadn't cracked her skull on the furniture before he leaves her. "I wanted to ask you something, anyway."
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