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[cold_dry_pieces]

[ooc; image posted without his knowledge. art is by Fernando Vicente, it seems more his style than an angel or something :3]

Comments

[synanthrope]

This is my space. She invited them. They make noise and leave mess and I cannot think.

Too much good behavior.

[cold_dry_pieces]

[He nods, and reaches for her wrist to pull her closer, if she'll let him. It's not a gesture of comfort. But he can offer a distraction.]

[synanthrope]

[She lets him, her skin a touch warmer than usual, and there is another click as her heels hit the ground]

Silence.

[cold_dry_pieces]

[He nods, runs his fingers up her arm. Somehow he always expects her to be cooler to the touch; it's not unpleasant, though.]

[synanthrope]

[She tilts her head and with her free hand, she moves her fingers across his jawline, across the arteries of his neck]

Sometimes I think you're like me.

[cold_dry_pieces]

[His other hand slips to her waist, sliding along the curves of her body. As familiar as she's become he always looks at her with an artist's eye, appreciating the length of her limbs, the strange way she moves. He speaks rather absently.]

Aren't I?

[synanthrope]

[There is something strange about every part of her, limbs that go askew randomly, the way her hips move less organic but no less natural.]

You are the most like me.

[Her hands slip to hover over his face]

I do not meet many men like you.

[cold_dry_pieces]

[His lip curls a little. Both his hands rest on her hips, then slide a little lower.]

There aren't many like me.

[synanthrope]

[Her eyes focus for a minute on his face, and she licks her top lip just once]

Most men can only have sex with me once.

[cold_dry_pieces]

Why?

[The question isn't simple prurience. He could say the same for women, and wonders if it's the same reason. He wouldn't try to kill her, but sex and murder are tangled between them all the same. It's a large part of the appeal.]

[synanthrope]

[She shrugs]

Some men are not interesting twice. Some find me odd and creepy.

[She takes his hand and puts a finger in her mouth, opening it wide, and something that isn't her tongue, something smooth and hard, brushes against it]

[cold_dry_pieces]

[He'd say something about odd not being so odd, though he can't speak for creepy, but stops dead at that inexplicable sensation. Not tongue nor teeth; which leaves no comprehensible options. It doesn't throw him into a panic-- he doesn't panic easily-- but he stays frozen, no longer certain of what he knows.]

[synanthrope]

[She slips her tongue against his finger, and her pedipalp scrapes along his finger once before daintily moving back into place. She takes his other hand and moves it against her inner thigh, higher and higher, pushing her skirt out of the way.

She's watching his face when high, right up against the juncture of her inner thigh and her body, a spinneret presses dully into his hand]

[cold_dry_pieces]

[Suddenly the question of being not like her is more than the cryptic murmur of an agitated obsession. He's always assumed her to be human (at least in the biological sense; people like them, at least like him, aren't precisely whole or human,) but here there's no reason that has to be the case.

He pulls back a little, to stare at her questioningly.]

[synanthrope]

[She looks at him, her eyes slipping from dark to darker. There is, undeniably, a lust in her eyes, a predatory look to her. She wants sex. But there's no smell of sex from her.]

No one knows. You.

[That is as much a compliment as it is a warning.]

[cold_dry_pieces]

[It's not the first big secret she's entrusted him with; but somehow it's different, since whatever she is, this time, he certainly isn't. It doesn't change what they do share.

Nor does it change why he came, or what either of them want. He presses a little closer, lifts her skirt a little higher. Knowing better doesn't change the fact that she's human enough in bed.]

[synanthrope]

[It's different because it's not a secret that she shares with him, it's something entirely her own. She moves her hand to his shirt now, her spinneret retracting back into her skin, and in a moment his shirt is in her hands, split in two.]

Good.

[cold_dry_pieces]

[He might be miffed about that, if he wasn't distracted. As it is he's more intent on getting the rest of their clothing out of the way.]

[synanthrope]

[Don't worry, she'll replace it. Her heels stay on, clicking against the floor]