revolving door party member. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
bountyhead) wrote2019-03-17 07:32 pm
bountyhead) wrote2019-03-17 07:32 pm× ᴏᴘᴇɴ ᴘᴏꜱᴛ
→ STARTERS/OVERFLOWS/TEXTS/PROMPTS/PSLS ★
bountyhead) wrote2019-03-17 07:32 pm
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Still dazzled by his voice, she remains unmoving, all except for one hand; gentle fingertips creeping along the rounded dents and edges of his chest in a dance. She pretends that he can feel it, tracing and map out shapes; a subtle heart drawn over where his real, human heart would be.
When he says her name, Faye lifts her head and dreamily blinks. Her head spins and she avoids looking directly at the patches of neon, multichromatic and loud, begging for attention from the windows. She keeps her eyes on him and watches those colors spill across his face as they pass. How the hue alters only slightly when it highlights flesh compared to the smooth material surface. Fascinating.
"I'll always save a spot for you."
The bustle of the city eclipses her pregnant pause and her green eyes dart from his blue one, to his lips, and back again. ]
... thank you, Raiden.
[ She wants to say more but can't, finding her gaze drifting back to his lips again, shameless in their pursuit. She's so... drunk. But she's harmless. And she wants to show how thankful she is. Maybe he'll forgive her when she leans forward to press her lips against skin and metal in a soft kiss. ]
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Not much to feel, is there? [ an anxious kind of amusement tinges his voice as his upper lip curves into a remnant of a smile. he’s flustering, maybe, and in a rather boyish manner at that. her gaze is more imposing than it should be. humbling, even.
so raiden willfully interprets the gesture as alcohol induced affection. but there is something there, something he isn’t quite ready to acknowledge yet — dangerous and not unlike the edge of a blade. it isn’t her fault. it’s his. ]
I forgot to ask you where you were staying... [ the bright, golden glow of a chandelier beams through panes of glass. behind the glass is a lobby, the kind that’s all velvet and ivory, a decadent fountain serving as a typical centerpiece. ] My hotel’s over here, so... you can use my bed for the night. Not like I do.
[ the concierge is polite enough to not ask him why there’s a young woman draped around his shoulders. the door behind him clicks shut. ]
Alright. Off to bed with you.
[ and unceremoniously does he drop her onto the plush comfort of a bed that he seldom touches. raiden takes to pulling up a chair instead and emptying his suit jacket of the slapstick-levels of weaponry he keeps stashed in there, legs now crossed. ]
C’mon. [ he says with a glance from the corner of his eye. ] You heard me.
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By the time he reaches his hotel, she's tucked right under his chin again, listening but not saying much. She's reaching the tail end of inebriaty when you feel more tired than tipsy and it's more than obvious. When she's plopped onto the bed, she lazily rolls to one side and then the other. It's so soft and clean and she could fall asleep right here.
Except she needs to take her shoes off, so she manages to pull herself into an upright position, and all without toppling over. ]
Mhn... you don't sleep?
[ A delayed response; what she means to ask is: you don't sleep on the bed? But words are hard for her all of a sudden.
Much like the physical activity of pulling her boots off. She gets one off and drops it to the floor, moving onto the other and doing the same, although she seems to struggle with it at first. She ends up having to yank it off her foot, sending the boot flying across the room. Well. At least it didn't hit anything. Gravity then draws her body back to lie on the bed and from there, she starts stripping her legs of the pink pantyhose — is she getting naked??
No. False alarm. Pantyhose now on the floor, she crawls up to the pillows and drowns in them with a content sigh. ]
Raiden—
[ A sweet but muffled voice calls from under the pillows. Her head rotates so that she's looking at him, only her eyes are closed, and they remain closed as she tells him: ]
Come lay with me... please...
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I don't. Not often, at least. [ he rolls his sleeve back before holding the pad of his thumb over his left wrist. it triggers a flash of vital statistics that're exclusively visible through his optics. ] My blood sugar regulates automatically. Beats any shot of espresso the galaxy could offer.
[ the seat creaks beneath his back as he declines his head. an eye roves down her body, warmth flickering in a sea of blue. ] ...But I've always been bad at it, if I'm being honest. I used to, uh — have a phobia. Nyctophobia. Used to keep me up all the time... among other things.
[ his inability to sleep, be it now or back then, had always been rooted in his inhumanity. there's this growing insecurity in him like she'll realize that. maybe like him less for it. but instinctively, raiden's always prepared for that possibility. instead, he chooses to relish the humanity in her form and the way she curls up into herself as though she hasn't felt the comfort of a good bed in who knows how long.
when she does call for him, he takes pause. logically and morally? he should say no. he almost does, arms stretching back as his eye roves to the wall, to the wardrobe, to the floor, anything that isn't her. it makes its way back slowly. and then he rises to his feet, suit jacket sliding off as he settles next to faye and puts enough distance between them that he's hanging off the edge. in a brisk movement, the palm of his hand glides up her forearm and settles against her back as he holds her in place. still half sitting up, he urges faye closer until her face is centimeters away from his chest.
he truly did want to say no, he tells himself. but then it hit him — how long had it been since someone held her in her sleep? since someone kept her safe?
why, raiden wonders, did he think he of all people was fit to do either of those things? ]
You've got no excuse now. Go to sleep.
[ it's alright. she won't remember this the next morning. or maybe she will and spite him for it. because what he hadn't told her was that even if the fear is gone, he still doesn't know how to last through the night. ]
I'm here.
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At least she could sleep; a luxury that wasn't afforded to him the same way. Something elemental and unrestrained and yet it wasn't. Not for him.
The bed dips with the addition of his weight, causing her eyes to flutter open. She peers at him under heavy lids and watches through lashes with a sleepy and indulgent stare as he gets himself settled. Reflexively, she curls back up to him after he pulls her into his space, her willowly form soon flush against his cybernetic one. She should be uncomfortable, and for a second there she's shifting in a manner that says she is, but then a long leg drapes languidly over one of his and her arms seek to hug onto him and evidently... she's not.
Her eyes close and from thereon she doesn't move an inch. ]
Me too. I'm here.
[ Her smoky voice tells him after a small stretch of silence. ]
Hug me if you get scared... okay?
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what a troublesome woman, he muses, the corners of his upper lip now fighting the urge to quirk up.
"hug me if you get scared, okay?"
he huffs something out at that a little sardonically, as though he can't quite believe it. then the words settle and warmth blooms in their place. it's uncomfortable at first. he's never been told that before.
idly, a hand moves to brush her hair out of her face. ]
Okay.
[ the nightfall comes and goes. he falls into lulls, a lone eye closing shut as he tries to play his part; after all, it'd probably be creepy to lay there stiffly and observe as she sleeps next to him. rosemary had always hated when he did that. she wanted to see him asleep. she wanted to see him wholly human, vulnerable and at peace in the same way she was — the same way she could be. all of the women before her, too.
he stares intently at the flecks of light that play against the ceiling. faye doesn't mind.
"isn't that interesting?" is the question that riccochets through his mind. "isn't that something?"
raiden slithers out of her grasp in the early morning. there's a glass of water and a pack of aspirin set on the nightstand. ]
Figured you could use something for your hangover.
I hope I didn't wake you up. I had a job to get to.
The reservation for this room runs up tonight.
Feel free to make yourself at home until then. Left the key in there if you want to leave too.
P.S. Don't fight any ducks today.
- ⚡
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It's when she hits the ground with a hearty thud that she's forced to be awake. But the moment her eyes open she's mobbed by a stabbing pain that triggers them to squeeze shut again and she cradles her head, lying there, groaning in pain. What time was it anyway? Where was she? And a number of other questions that swarm her mind but the collective hum starts to sound like static and the pain seems to worsen from it. She needs water.
With enough mustered strengh, she pulls herself back onto the bed, and it's there that she notices the aspirin sitting next to a glass of water on the nightstand. Raiden, is her first thought, and with a smile. He was with her the entire night. It's difficult to recall much right now, supplied with only chunks of memories to partially fill the holes of what was most of her night, but what she's left equipped with is enough to keep her from rushing out of there.
She grabs two of the aspirin and uses the water to swallow them down, finishing off the glass in one go. A little more hydrated but now she has to pee. On the way to the bathroom, she brings her phone with her. His message is the only notification on the screen.
Don't fight any ducks today. Oh, god. Don't remind her. ]
I think you'll be happy to know I haven't run into any ducks today.
But that's probably because I've been busy fighting the sheets.
[ It's okay to laugh. She's as clumsy as she is troublesome. ]
Thanks for the aspirin, by the way.
I definitely needed that.
Hope you don't mind that I take a shower while I'm here...
What time is the reservation up?
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so he responds, like he doesn’t reek of blood right now— ]
You named the duck from last night “Asshole” so I’m gonna assume the sheets’ve been dubbed “Bastard”.
Sheets are tough though, yeah. You just gotta get used to them.
[ maybe she needs better ones. he’ll make mental note of that. ]
Don’t mention it.
And yeah go for it. The titanium polish in there is mine btw. I’ll be back in the next two hours and need one too so try not to take too long.
As for the room reservation...
Around 8 PM last time I checked.
Oh and before I forget
Make sure you eat. They have room service up there.
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I was never really great with animals.
I guess I'm not great with sheets either.
[ Bastard is a good name though. ]
And yes, dear.
Eat something.
No two hour showers.
Got it. 😉
See you soon.
[ Food doesn't exactly appeal to her at the moment but she dials up room service anyway and orders herself a few side dishes. Some variety to challenge her lack of appetite. She kills some time waiting by surfing through the small range of channels — it's all the same drab stuff you find on basic cable — and after the food arrives, she settles for a game show while she picks at fries, fruit, and a small order of meatballs. Nutritious.
She eats what she can before abandoning the food in favor of a shower. Although it's not two hours long, she still manages to cut close on the time. Raiden would be returning within the next half-hour and she was only just getting out. She slips on one of the complimentary robes and ties the belt around her waist, turning and facing the mirror to make sure she combs all her dark hair back and out of her face. Doing so allows the light to bounce off her skin and she looks even younger without the makeup. Sometimes she doesn't recognize herself.
Faye hangs out in her robe for the remainder of the time, casually flipping through channels, occasionally checking her phone, straight chillin' until he gets back. ]
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🙄
Later.
[ when raiden makes his way back to his room, the stench of blood follows behind — it's obscured by cologne and his suit is clean at a glance, but there are stray splitches of crimson here and there splattered against his dress shirt.
at the sight of her leisurely watching tv, lounging in his bed in a bathrobe without a care in the world, the corner of his lip twitches up. ]
You look cute without makeup. [ he remarks, folding his jacket neatly against the table. ] You've got nice features...but that aside, it shows how young you are. That's not a bad thing. [ a laugh sounds from him, airy and short lived. ] It's like... a face a person just couldn't say no to.
But maybe I just like it because it feels more like you.
[ he slips out of his shirt as he speaks — his trousers come off next, but the image of him without clothing on is the norm if anything, cyborg jockstrap on and everything.
or well, at least it is to him. the average human got a little weird about it sometimes. wordlessly, he hovers over her shoulder, observing as she flips through the channels. ]
Pick a movie before I come back out. We'll see how good your taste is.
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Her cheeks are next -- without makeup it's a lot more obvious. Heat swarms and there's a rosey pink that starts to spread. Can you blame her?? He's undressing and unloading all this flattery on her and if she just keeps her eyes on the television and plays it cool... ]
A face you "couldn't say no to"? Don't give me any ideas.
[ She tucks a few wet strands behind her ear, a charmed smile on her face, and continues flipping channels. Click. Click. Click. Now his pants are off and she finds her gaze drifting back for just a peek. That's it. That's all.
The moment she averts her attention is when he hovers in and she tenses up only a little but, again, plays it off in that cool way she always does. ]
I have very good taste so prepare yourself.
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[ it's said in jest — mostly. rolls off the tongue a little too easily to be nothing more than that. while the traces of bashfulness in her features are noted and written off as cute, he doesn't think to attribute them to himself. it's a willful kind of obliviousness, one that keeps whatever it is between them much easier to manage.
he looks at faye meaningfully, gaze lingering like he's thinking; say this is what he thinks (or rather what he knows) it is deep down. it's best to let it pass. it's best that she finds better, or at the very least recognizes that she deserves it.
and then his head turns back, craning towards the bathroom instead. ]
Heh. [ he huffs out again. ] I'll be the judge of that.
[ the shower takes an hour, more or less — when he does emerge, the metal plating that typically lines his shoulders and chest are off, revealing what what is sleek, ebony synthetic musculature beneath them. like a well built human torso that practically shines like a car, highly defined and colored an inorganic black. the only armor that remains is essentially his crotchplate alongside the suspenders that connect them to his shoulders.
yes, he is practically always fitted in tactical lingerie. no, sadly he does not have it in him to care. tactical thongs are useful in their own right.
there's a towel draped around his shoulders though, and he shakes his hair out like a wet dog. raiden hovers over her shoulder again before leaning down to narrow an eye at the tv screen. ]
This better not be about... cars or something. You mind if I sit here?
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Cars are dull. Dinosaurs is where it's at.
[ Truth is, there wasn't a ton of great options to choose from, most of them being rom-coms or musicals. Hopefully, those aren't Raiden's favorite. She's personally not a big fan. Out of the few left to pick from Jurassic Park becomes the winner, a movie that came out a year before she was born — she can't remember if she's ever seen it. Maybe she hasn't. Maybe watching it will spark a memory. She wasn't counting on it.
The first few scenes unfold and she's paying attention but there's something nagging at her, festering in her head and filling it with noise, making it harder to focus on the movie as it goes on. She waits it out at first, waits for something interesting to happen, waits for him to say something, tries to re-focus. When they reach a lull in the plot, it takes her a second to find her voice so she can tell him: ]
Hey, I... wanted to thank you again for taking care of me.
[ She's pretending to watch the movie now, not quite wanting to look at him yet, shame suddenly ballooning in her gut. Embarrassment. It's taken most of the day for her memory to trickle in and for that recollection of things done and said to remind her just how vulnerable she had been. How careless she can be sometimes. ]
I know I'm nothing but trouble but I appreciate you coming to my rescue. I couldn't have asked for someone better to do it.
[ A breathy laugh leaves her lips as she remembers the moment he swooped in and scared all the ducks away; how dramatic she had been in her gratitude to him. That gratitude still lives and it shows as she looks at him and smiles warmly. ]
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[ a pleasant surprise strikes him. the blue of his eye brightens, the ends of his upper lip furling up in amusement. and then a quiet kind of enthusiasm washes over him in a shockwave and he leans in, pulling his knee up as his gaze settles onto the television screen. ]
This was one of my favorites growing up... a real classic, even. It inspired so many different types of cinematography for the decades to come. Not sure if I'd quantify it as a monster movie, but I always felt kind of bad for the dinosaurs here.
[ for monsters in general, he intends to say. raiden watches earnestly as they fall into silence — it's easy to see how it pulls him in, absorbing him wholly, until her voice draws him back out. for a moment, he blinks as if he's processing what faye's saying. and then a touch awkwardly: ]
It's no problem. I didn't do much. [ a hand moves to the back of his head and idly rubs before raiden sets it back down against his side. that smile inspires a flutter of warmth in the pit of his stomach — an emotional response that he can't deny due to the nature of his body. ] Besides, I'd say you make the trouble worth it. [ a light chuckle. ] You've got a beautiful smile.
[ leisurely, he leans back against the headboard. admittedly, the movie's begun to drone out of his mind and fade into the background. huh. ]
Everything I said yesterday... I meant it. [ a beat. ] One day, you won't have to run if you don't want to. I'll help you get there.
[ instinctually and without thinking, his hand meanders towards her own, gently clasping over it. his bangs have loosened and frame his face, a sight that makes him look softer and more human. briskly, he speaks again: ]
You can hold me to that.
[ she was such a girl, he thinks. terribly young in spite of the appearance she put up. he'd been completely different at her age — a sociopath who feigned innocence and youthfulness despite being bankrupt of both. he thinks back on the feeling of her wrapping her arms around him in her sleep, on the delicate kiss pressed to the exoskeleton of a monster from that same night. it'd been as though the world hadn't quite drained her of that innocence just yet.
maybe the prospect of that in of itself breaks his heart. ]
this thread is killing me in the best way :')
The effortless tenderness he gives her only adds to it. She'll be as red as her jacket by the time the movie ends if he keeps on with the flattery like that. Against her best efforts, she can't seem to pin her smile down and so she slinks into herself abashed. He's really good at dulling her sharp edges — drawing out an innocence that, unbeknownst to her, still remains after everything. And, strangely, she lets him do it.
Her gaze retracts to settle on his face as the mood suddenly dips and things become a little more intimate.
I'll help you get there. You can hold me to that.
She wants nothing more than to believe that. Only time will tell if he really means it after she's retreated for the umpteenth time; runs off and refuses to let anyone know that she's alive until she shows up without warning. But those aren't waters she wants to test with him. Right now, sitting beside him, the current object of his warm affection — it was good. Whatever this was. What this had the potential to be, or not. It doesn't have to be anything. It was already good. ]
I'll hold you to it then.
[ Her gaze falls on their hands, absorbing the moment until she slips hers out and places it over his, squeezing it gingerly. ]
I meant it too. Hugging me when you're scared.
[ And surely he knew that but there's a depth to that which expands across many points of expression. Hopefully, somehow, he understands that without her having to say it. There's a pause and then, without any rhyme or reason, she reaches up and brushes a few of his silvery strands from his face. There's something almost loving about the way she does it. ]
I'm here for you. Whenever you need me. You can hold me to that.