The first brush strokes of dawn found her languidly stretching. An extremely rare late morning and slow start for Thorn's part. Her smile was decidedly self-satisfied, very female, and completely sated. The shadows of the previous night's ... adventures painted themselves across every line of her, settling most heavily in the slumberous quality around and within the depths of frosted amethyst eyes. Very much the cream-fed-cat of a redneck.
Slipping into an abbreviated robe that barely skimmed her upper thighs, she padded through the house, humming snippets of a song from the evening before. Down stairs, in the kitchen, she took the cup of coffee Dae held out to her.
"I don't want to know do I?" The years he'd been in the woman's employ made the occasional lack of knowledge or clarity, blessings really. In too many things she was entirely too open for her own good.
"Hmm?" A purr, thick and throbbing. When he merely arched a brow knowingly, she chuckled and cleared her throat.
"Had a few issues come up that set me off." The boneless grace of the evening before still rode her limbs, turning the shrug that rolled a shoulder up and back into something other than a simple gesture of neutrality.
"I can see that." Snorted with sly humor. "The clothes you were wearing, are trash. You smell like you've had another unpleasant introduction to the floor of a bar, and ... well." He knew her too well, as most in his position came to know their employers. The single word held more innuendo than she'd ever been able to stuff into one syllable. And she'd tried.
Wry curve of lips pressed lightly to the rim of the cup when it was brought up for a long sip. "Got bent outta shape over som'thin' I've really no control or say in I don't think. Heart-hurt over pain caused to someone I'd like to think may become a friend. Couple minutes after that, someone thought it'd be a good idea to, give me advice on something else. And tell me what condition to be in when he came back from handling something with his man." Carefully she sat the cup down on the counter.
Though, in truth the temper she'd been riding the night before had been burned off in the most ... enjoyable of ways possible.
.........
The redneck had a temper, a more than formidable temper, and she once she was beyond sight of the Inn, she indulged in more than a few pithy comments. And some well timed kicks to inanimate objects.
Kicks that she'd pay for later as she'd been barefoot when she arrived at the Inn, and barefoot when she'd left it as well. Something she was already beginning to regret.
With her spine straight, nearly every muscle loose, the almost arrogant saunter that carried her forward was anything but the stalk she wanted to indulge in. From the Inn to certain seedier sections of the Slums she went, letting heart-ache and insult push her on while keeping firm hold on the slippery reins of her anger.
She'd found a bar with Metallica blaring, rough and mean male voices working hard to drown out the song. It had been, wonderful.
While he majority of the patrons were busily posturing, preening, or simply leering at the barefooted little pretty who'd sauntered into their midst, she'd beamed a dimple flanked smile to all of them. Laid a hefty pouch of gold on the bar, "y' might wanna hold ont' that."
With that over-bright, now sharp edged, smile in place, she'd driven a short-armed punch into the face of the (very) dirty haired man sitting on a barstool to her left. Pivoted just far enough to give treatment in kind to the man on her right.
Really, it hadn't taken much to set off a bar fight there. And it'd been so satisfying to find a bar full of men who had no compunctions about hitting a woman. Especially when she'd started it.
An hour, several broken bones, countless bruises, and a few thousand in damages paid later, she hadn't been as satisfied as she'd wanted to be. And no one had felt like dancing with the redneck anymore. Limping and wobbling like a drunk who'd forgotten what gravity was, she'd hobbled outside.
Gated to a preferred establishment in the Skin Block of a different city on a different world. And found what she'd needed there.
The Patron bustled one of his best customers into a private lobby, tsking for the condition of her clothing, the state of her hair. The damaged skin on her pretty little feet that completely detracted from effect of toe nails painted to match what was left of the sweater.
Within minutes she was being bathed by a pair of her favorites. Dark haired women that were mirror images of each other. With pale skin and green eyes, and curves in absolutely the right places. Heart shaped faces with eyes up-swept at their corners, pouting lips that warmed and gave in the most exquisite of ways. Each with a set of feathered wings on their back, and twin horns above their ears. The blood of an Erinyes, diluted just enough for the two to be considered Tieflings and not Baatezu.
Who didn't want to toy with something that looked like what some would call an angel? It would take someone with a stronger will than the redneck to not be roused to conquer by the run of their hands across her skin. And by the gods she took her time in plundering them both
By the time she'd finished with both, one after the other, there was a fourth in the lavish bathing chamber. A male, darkly pleased with the tableau before him.
Heavily muscled, though surprisingly agile and limber, the former gladiator's skin was marked by the scars of the trade he'd been so good at. Freedom, in the end, had done nothing to put food on the table or a roof over his head. This though, did both and gave him ample opportunity to spend his passions.
With most clients, they were in charge. With the human there, he was in charge, she'd made that clear from the beginning. They never failed to satisfy each other, no matter how tiring the effort turned out to be.
And that skin of hers, bruised, so beautifully.
.........
Thoughtful, with a slight wince, Dae rubbed his chin lightly. "I should assume you were told to be unmarked?" Just a guess really.
Narrow eyed, she looked at him. "What makes you say that?" Wasn't exactly denying it, more stalling than anything else really.
"Because, you're anything but." Laughingly said, a hand lifted in a gesture that took in the whole of her. "The bruises on your throat, those'll be the first to fade as they're light but the rest? You'll be sitting light for a while yet I'm sure."
He was still laughing when she reached across the kitchen island to swat at him. And nimbly danced further out of reach.
"So, m' passive-aggressive's showin'." With a sullen pout while turning to go find clothes for the day.
Slipping into an abbreviated robe that barely skimmed her upper thighs, she padded through the house, humming snippets of a song from the evening before. Down stairs, in the kitchen, she took the cup of coffee Dae held out to her.
"I don't want to know do I?" The years he'd been in the woman's employ made the occasional lack of knowledge or clarity, blessings really. In too many things she was entirely too open for her own good.
"Hmm?" A purr, thick and throbbing. When he merely arched a brow knowingly, she chuckled and cleared her throat.
"Had a few issues come up that set me off." The boneless grace of the evening before still rode her limbs, turning the shrug that rolled a shoulder up and back into something other than a simple gesture of neutrality.
"I can see that." Snorted with sly humor. "The clothes you were wearing, are trash. You smell like you've had another unpleasant introduction to the floor of a bar, and ... well." He knew her too well, as most in his position came to know their employers. The single word held more innuendo than she'd ever been able to stuff into one syllable. And she'd tried.
Wry curve of lips pressed lightly to the rim of the cup when it was brought up for a long sip. "Got bent outta shape over som'thin' I've really no control or say in I don't think. Heart-hurt over pain caused to someone I'd like to think may become a friend. Couple minutes after that, someone thought it'd be a good idea to, give me advice on something else. And tell me what condition to be in when he came back from handling something with his man." Carefully she sat the cup down on the counter.
Though, in truth the temper she'd been riding the night before had been burned off in the most ... enjoyable of ways possible.
.........
The redneck had a temper, a more than formidable temper, and she once she was beyond sight of the Inn, she indulged in more than a few pithy comments. And some well timed kicks to inanimate objects.
Kicks that she'd pay for later as she'd been barefoot when she arrived at the Inn, and barefoot when she'd left it as well. Something she was already beginning to regret.
With her spine straight, nearly every muscle loose, the almost arrogant saunter that carried her forward was anything but the stalk she wanted to indulge in. From the Inn to certain seedier sections of the Slums she went, letting heart-ache and insult push her on while keeping firm hold on the slippery reins of her anger.
She'd found a bar with Metallica blaring, rough and mean male voices working hard to drown out the song. It had been, wonderful.
While he majority of the patrons were busily posturing, preening, or simply leering at the barefooted little pretty who'd sauntered into their midst, she'd beamed a dimple flanked smile to all of them. Laid a hefty pouch of gold on the bar, "y' might wanna hold ont' that."
With that over-bright, now sharp edged, smile in place, she'd driven a short-armed punch into the face of the (very) dirty haired man sitting on a barstool to her left. Pivoted just far enough to give treatment in kind to the man on her right.
Really, it hadn't taken much to set off a bar fight there. And it'd been so satisfying to find a bar full of men who had no compunctions about hitting a woman. Especially when she'd started it.
An hour, several broken bones, countless bruises, and a few thousand in damages paid later, she hadn't been as satisfied as she'd wanted to be. And no one had felt like dancing with the redneck anymore. Limping and wobbling like a drunk who'd forgotten what gravity was, she'd hobbled outside.
Gated to a preferred establishment in the Skin Block of a different city on a different world. And found what she'd needed there.
The Patron bustled one of his best customers into a private lobby, tsking for the condition of her clothing, the state of her hair. The damaged skin on her pretty little feet that completely detracted from effect of toe nails painted to match what was left of the sweater.
Within minutes she was being bathed by a pair of her favorites. Dark haired women that were mirror images of each other. With pale skin and green eyes, and curves in absolutely the right places. Heart shaped faces with eyes up-swept at their corners, pouting lips that warmed and gave in the most exquisite of ways. Each with a set of feathered wings on their back, and twin horns above their ears. The blood of an Erinyes, diluted just enough for the two to be considered Tieflings and not Baatezu.
Who didn't want to toy with something that looked like what some would call an angel? It would take someone with a stronger will than the redneck to not be roused to conquer by the run of their hands across her skin. And by the gods she took her time in plundering them both
By the time she'd finished with both, one after the other, there was a fourth in the lavish bathing chamber. A male, darkly pleased with the tableau before him.
Heavily muscled, though surprisingly agile and limber, the former gladiator's skin was marked by the scars of the trade he'd been so good at. Freedom, in the end, had done nothing to put food on the table or a roof over his head. This though, did both and gave him ample opportunity to spend his passions.
With most clients, they were in charge. With the human there, he was in charge, she'd made that clear from the beginning. They never failed to satisfy each other, no matter how tiring the effort turned out to be.
And that skin of hers, bruised, so beautifully.
.........
Thoughtful, with a slight wince, Dae rubbed his chin lightly. "I should assume you were told to be unmarked?" Just a guess really.
Narrow eyed, she looked at him. "What makes you say that?" Wasn't exactly denying it, more stalling than anything else really.
"Because, you're anything but." Laughingly said, a hand lifted in a gesture that took in the whole of her. "The bruises on your throat, those'll be the first to fade as they're light but the rest? You'll be sitting light for a while yet I'm sure."
He was still laughing when she reached across the kitchen island to swat at him. And nimbly danced further out of reach.
"So, m' passive-aggressive's showin'." With a sullen pout while turning to go find clothes for the day.