As his lips delicately caress the skin of her neck, he pushes her down to meet the cool touch of his desk. His hands move slowly down her sides until they reach her waist, where he slides his thumbs under the brim of her jeans. She feels them begin(more) to massage her hips, eliciting a shiver through her that runs up her spine.
His mouth engulfs hers, his tongue dancing across her lips as his fingers move to unbutton her pants. She lifts her hips up and his cool hands tantalize her warm skin as they slither down her legs, pushing her jeans out of the way. Slowly they make their way back up, his fingers tracing circles on her skin. Her thighs clench with anticipation.
It is all she can do to remember to breathe.
His forefinger moves up to stroke against her, tease her with her underwear acting as a thin wall between them. His mouth slides down to trace the outline of her chin and she gasps for air, feeling his smirk engrave itself onto her skin. Her arm involuntarily flicks outward, hitting something, and she hears the sound of rustling papers falling to the floor.
She feels her face flush at such a small reminder of where they are. This is unprofessional in every sense of the word. They shouldn't be having this kind of... interaction at all, let alone in his office, and yet...
All thought leaves her mind when he pushes her underwear to the side as his mouth joins his hands in their conquest.(less)
on the table is my report card, all As. it’s from eighth grade. dad updates the fridge with evidence whenever we accomplish something particularly remarkable, but he decided to take down the display two weeks ago and pieces of it are littered on the countertop. “you’re getting older, and(more) sticking up paintings doesn’t mean as much anymore.”
on the table are keys – two actually, because my mom was so excited she bought another one for backup. they operate my brand-new car, but instead of opening the heavy car doors and fishing around for a license, I strap a ratty cardboard box onto the stand of my bike.
on the table is a one-a-day calendar. the pre-dawn darkness conceals finer details from view, but it’s the cheesy kind, highly decorated with stickers and Sharpie. there’s a blue graduation hat scribbled on today’s page that i’m sure is bleeding through the pages.
on the table is a bowl of fruit, and i shove an apple deep into the folds of my heavy-duty jacket. i don’t feel like eating, or, to be honest, like wearing the jacket, but one does what one must. besides the fruit is a handful of change in a shallow dish, and i pocket it all.
on the table is a note that i jot out in harried-looking letters. it reads: ‘don’t bother trying to find me.’
on the table is the truth, but i won’t be around to see the aftermath.(less)
one of my friends saw you with her, and i don't know what to make of it. i don't want to be one of those people in the movies who overreact and smash everything to pieces, but i don't want to be the naive girl who is oblivious to(more) everything until it falls.
but i don't know how you'd react if i wrote my feelings out. i've never done it before. would you brush them off the table like stray bread crumbs or would you address them like you should?(less)
Kreeda was gone. The cries were replaced with silence and his weariness receded. A gentle wind drifted through the slit in the stone wall in front of him and it cooled the sweat on his brow. His body shivered as the energy from Kreeda's departure scuttled through his body. It had(more) been a long time since his last send off and this one was particularly difficult. She would be ok. Kreeda was stubborn as cliff rock, it would take a lot to wear her thin. He began to open his eyes.
Beyond the slit he could see the the stars shining in the purple sky, the moons lit like small suns, and the silver leaves of the Alta Trees shimmering in the breeze. The world had a beautiful glow this evening. Across the the plain, The Mountains rolled away into the distance; a distance he now had to travel to pick up his latest Arrival. A fresh faced Arrival who he hoped could be sent back quicker than the last he watched over.
A knock on the door. Never late. The speed at which the Alta Guards arrived after a send off always amazed Somnus, he thought they could predict it. They would come to give the Watchers their latest Arrival's parchment and to escort them to Alta. The half of Kreeda's parchment he possessed would also go with him. It had been on the table since the day she arrived. He put it in his pocket before opening the door.
"Somnus, come with me," said the Guard. He didn't have a parchment.
"What is the matter?" said Somnus.
"Your girl never left," replied the Guard.
"Alta is under attack, come with me."
The Guard had them leave in a hurry. Kreeda's red eyes watched them all the way. (less)
1) A bonsai: he keeps watering it, day after day, waiting for it to grow large enough so that he can bury it above Totsuka's grave. Dead bodies are nutritious and good for plant growth, apparently. Yata had looked at Izumo with something lik(more)e horror when he'd said that, but here's a reminder: they're dead.
Izumo has always been the practical one, just because no one else was willing.
Anyway, he thinks Totsuka would enjoy the sentiment.
2) An ashtray: Izumo's been meaning to quit for long enough that it's a knee jerk reaction more than anything else at this point. Every time he lights one up, he thinks to himself 'I should probably quit'. He remembers telling Mikoto, 'we should probably quit'. He thinks the reason he hasn't is because he knows he'll die long before the lung cancer has time to set in. He's kind of glad of that. Lung cancer sounds like a bitch.
3) A framed photo of the last time everyone was smiling, unashamedly on display. That one's obvious.
4) The leftover of a cocktail drunk, the remnant of Seri's daily visit. She's taken it on herself to personally keep an eye on Homra. He knows she feels obligated, both to herself and to her former boss. Ah, and to Fushimi, of course.
It's times like these Izumo is reminded that Homra and Scepter 4 are far closer than propriety dictates. Maybe that's why…
There's still red bean past stuck in the bottom of the cocktail glass. Izumo shudders a little as he picks it up.
5) A camcorder, with its last roll of film still inside.
Izumo idly wonders why it is that everything on his bar-top reminds him of dead people. Then again, it's not really all that surprising.(less)
On Monday morning there is little on the table. Laptop, closed. A plastic lunch container with a sandwich and a banana. The minutes tick by, but the bedroom door stays closed.
Tuesday's table is empty, save for the gin and vermouth bottles, and the martini glass. An an(more) olive. The olive is important.
Wednesday evening sees a table plated with a lack-luster dinner. The pasta was made from a package with milk and a pat of butter, and it has congealed quickly on the plate in the cool of the apartment. The martini glass is full for the third time, favorable to dinner.
Thursday sees a table empty until five in the afternoon. A mug takes the place of the martini glass, which broke the evening previous. Tonight, the liquor stays on the table.
Early on Friday morning, the cat picks his way over the sleeping occupant of the sofa and onto the table, looking for something to eat. His dinner bowl is on the table, but there hasn't been much in it of late.
Saturday morning's table is much like the others, but there are glasses that belonged to many mouths. Scattered peanuts and other nibbles, some playing cards. An olive.
Sunday afternoon there is a woman on the otherwise bare table, on her back and gazing at the ceiling through her intoxication. She sighs and wonders if the cat has had his supper.
"I want to know everything. Now, Domraro. If I get the feeling that you might be holding back, that you deceive me for a second with anything so much as the tiniest white lie, I call in the entirity of my order", Jrogan demanded, slamming his fist down on(more) the stone.
The walking-dead shamanistic rogue named Domraro Shokazeda took a deep breath, palm to his face. "Fine, but don't say I didn't warn you. You don't help me, everyone in this city will die. The man that did this to me is not, like EVERYONE", he shouted briefly, "thought, beyond dead. He has laid the groundwork for a spell that will take the life from everyone in this town, except for me. All week long, I have been dodging IDIOTS like you who have been playing into his hands", he stopped for a moment to let the confusion play over Jrogans face.
"Let me guess. You got the tip to my whereabouts from a concerned citizen that saw something suspicious, and his exact words were ' you were the first person I thought I should tell'", his words kept trampling over the alarm that grew on Jrogans face, "This man also seemed to talk to you when you were alone, the moment you left shouting distance from the rest of your comrades. If you had shown the slightest deviation from his plan, you would be dead right now. Fact is you already would be if, today alone, I hadn't taken apart seven different phylacteries, " Domraro leaned forward, palms down and sliding with a slow scratching noise as he brought his face closer to Jrogans.
"So, that's my whole deck of cards on the table. If you can't help, the least you can do is get out of my way" (less)
"You are so full of shit," Winry said, as Ed rolled the car into park. "We are in the middle of nowhere. Are you two squatting in an abandoned hovel again, because I am not peeing in a bucket-"
"Jeez, Winry, relax," Ed said. "Would I lie to(more) you?"
"In a heartbeat."
Ed rolled his eyes and sighed. "Okay, maybe that was the wrong thing to ask, but I'm not lying to you, I swear." He opened the door and swung his legs out, stretching as he exited the vehicle. Winry watched him suspiciously as he popped the trunk and pulled out his duffel, slinging the strap over his head. "You coming, or what?"
Truth was, Ed did not like leaving Al alone in the lair. Al had been acting stranger and stranger, and with Rian AWOL and most of their allies out of contact, he had had to reach out to someone to help keep an eye on things.
There were very few people the Elrics would trust with a secret of this magnitude - and Winry was right at the top of that list.
There were clumps of dead leaves still pushed against the insides of the stairs that led down to the heavy old iron door. Winry stood at the top of the stairs, arms crossed over her chest because despite the warm spring day, it was chilly in the shade. "You're joking," she said, as Ed unlocked the door.
He held the door open and bowed. "After you, princess."
"You're not joking, you're just fucked in the head," Winry said, and walked through the door. "Is Al really in here?"
"Probably sleeping on his laptop in the library," Ed said, pulling the heavy door shut behind them both and locking it. "AL! We're home, wake up!"
"Don't tell anyone," Ann said, " Swear on your soul that you won't tell anyone else." I looked at her and knew she was serious.
"I swear on it." She stared at me for a while, as if to measure that I'm someone worth trusting. Finally after what seemed like(more) a minute, she nodded and threw off her backpack, unzipped it, and took out a small brown paper bag.
My instant thought was drugs, but then I noticed the faint glow. A blueish aura seemed to radiate within. What's more was that there was a silhouette of something. Glowing drugs?
She shot me a look, " No, it's not drugs," as if she read my mind.
"What is it then?"
"I was about to get to that."
She pulled out a jar from the paper bag and I nearly toppled over. In the jar was a person, no more than the size of my finger, a glowing person. "This is what it is,"Ann said," a fairy." She placed the jar on the table so I could look at it better. It looked female as far as I could tell, it had short blue-ish hair that and, as I am a guy that's been through puberty, I observed that it had no breasts.
"Is it a boy or a girl?" I asked.
She thought for a bit and shrugged. "You tell me Professor Oak."(less)