hell_in_highheels | [oom] Coming Home

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[oom] Coming Home

It's still dark when she wakes, but dawn is already lightning the sky. She dresses in long skirts, her favourite wool sweater, and her grey woollen shawl. And her field boots. The lakeside is rocky, and they're practical.

She makes her way down the stairs to the bar, not really surprised to see a others who are still awake from the previous evening's carousing. She doesn't pause to socialise. She makes her way out the back and down the path to the lakeside, her eyes on the tree line. She walks the shore, rubbing her arms against the chill, putting more and more distance between herself and the bar.

This time it is she who is searching for him in the mist.

He told her not to come after him when the moon was up. But it had set hours ago. The sun was almost over the ridge.

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"All right," he rumbles back at her, nipping at her throat.

He scrapes the last bits of his eggs onto his slice of toast and crunches away.

She laughs, a touch breathless. Her chair scrapes on the floor, making Dam dance away from it as she stands to take their plates into the kitchen.

Her scent says follow me.

What else would she be expecting him to do?

Don't answer that.

Intrigued, he gets out of his seat and prowls after her, curiously sniffing.

Sometimes she doesn't realise what she's saying without words. This would be one of those times.

After setting the plates in the sink, she turns back and squeaks to find him standing right behind her. She laughs as her hands come to rest on his chest. "I should make the floors squeak or something, so I can hear you coming!"

"And spoil all my fun?" He leans against her hand, lightly, testing to see how much she'll hold him back with.

He cranes his head to one side to see the plates still in the sink. "I take it we're to do them ourselves?" Another soap to get that will be scentless.

"Don't worry about it, I'll take care of them," she says, her hand giving him no resistance at all. In fact, her arms slide around his waist and the playful scent intensifies.

follow me chase me hunt me

"Now, the office." He has her hemmed into the small space. "Is right over there." She smirks, gesturing with her chin.

How terribly rude of him.

"All right," he says simply, sliding to her left with one arm around her waist. "Show me what I missed." He was mostly looking for scents the first time.

And if he keeps his nose tucked into the crack between her hair and the towel, that's all he'll notice this time, too.

She leans into his nuzzling, her eyelids fluttering half closed, feeling his hot breath snuffling against the nape of her neck.

Mates can be very distracting when they want to be.

She makes herself take one step and then another, out of the kitchen, around the small couch into the office proper. "Yours," the desk on the left. "Mine," the desk on the right.

There is a light projection on the surface of her desk, a tiny image of the waning moon along with some other data, bar date and time, temperature, etc.

He's not even trying to distract her, really. He's just trying to keep her close.

"Is that your terminal?" He queries into her neck, watching the display out of the corner of his eye. That is something he noticed earlier, but if time on Ray's world taught him anything, it's that you don't go poking tech you don't understand.

Goosebumps flare at the feel of his voice against her skin. Mates that have been gone for three days can be especially distracting even when they're not trying. The follow me scent hasn't dissipated in the least.

"Part of it," she murmurs. Reluctantly, she leans away to reach down and key up the whole terminal. A series of screens, both in the surface of the desktop and hovering above it fly into place, creating a tiny amphitheatre of information. "There we are."

Pale blue text, vids, scans of old books, images and more text flicker past as she shuffles through the screen. He can tell by the glimpses he catches, she's researching lycanthropy again, as well as something about hardware. There's a full set of schematics for the sonic screwdriver she always carries with her as well.

Edited 2009-03-19 17:14 (UTC)

Richard leans with her, a bit.

"That's a lot of information," he observes, eyes flicking back and forth as he tracks the items scurrying about. "How does it work?"

She stands back up, the silk of their robes sliding between them for one really distracting moment before she leans back against him. "Small data core here," she points to the body of the desk, "Uplinked to the Library via Bar's feeds, and some other available data streams. There are so many to choose from, I just picked the highest traffic ones for now. We'll see what's useful out of them later. Music, games, vids, anything you could want, at the tip of your fingers."

"The interface is completely configurable, voice, text input, touch, you decide and it adapts to you." She turns her head slightly to speak to him. "There's another interface in your desk, if you were curious."

"I am, but," he turns to look at her, questioning, "data streams? Like reports?" He's not the most Internet savvy of wolves, even when he was alive.

It's possible that directly after a full moon is not the best time to teach him, either.

"Yes, something like that." She nuzzles his cheek. "I can show you later, if you like.." Her voice drops a bit and her scent tickles his nose.

"I'm in no hurry." The arm holding her slides down the silk, hand caressing, as he turns them so they face each other.

"Missed you."

There are no words. Her eyes close for a moment and she tries to find them, but there simply are no words.

She rises on her tip toes, brushing her nose against his, breathing him in. Little touches, her hand trembling just the slightest as she caresses his head, a light kiss on his lips.

"I missed you, too, love. I missed you, too."

He brings his other hand up, the one that isn't playing at the small of her back, to cup her cheek. One finger plays lightly at the edge of her ear, stroking the soft skin there, before his hand glides to the back of her neck. His fingers thread through the wisps of hair there as his palm curves itself to her.

Her pulls her back into a kiss.

She presses her head into his palm, her lips parting to taste him.

Slowly this time. As if they had all the time in the world.

She savours each moment, memorising everything about him. The feel of his mouth on her own, the scruff of his unshaven chin, the feel of his fingertips drawing spirals along her spine, the heat of his body bleeding through the thin silk.

The sound of Damocles whining and pawing at the bookcase.

Sir. Siiiir, my pig's ear is in here. Siiiiiiir. I waaaaant it, pleeeeeease?

Richard breaks the kiss off to rest his chin on River's shoulder and just look at the dog.

Please? It's more bacony than my kibble!

He gives in to the puppy dog eyes. "What's behind the bookcase, then?" He asks, sounding resigned.

It was a lovely kiss.

It was. And it can be again. After we liberate the pig's ear.

It was such a lovely kiss that it takes River a moment to return from it. "Oh yes, I almost forgot. Go and pull out the copy of Jane's on the top shelf, just a bit."

He's curious, but it's still with some reluctance that he disentangles himself from her and heads toward the shelf.

"I feel as though I'm in some mystery film," he comments dryly as he reaches up to tip the catalogue towards him.

He releases and steps back quickly when the bookcase starts to move. Damocles, however, is hovering at the opening, just waiting for it to grow large enough to let him through.

The bookcase opens out on a double hinge that lets it swing freely. It appears to lock from the inside as well, with a hefty steel bar on a pivot to seal it from outside intruders.

The room beyond is the size of a large walk-in closet, white walls, a white linoleum floor. It is a textbook SAS safe house arms room, complete with a bench for doing maintenance on the weapons. Long guns down one side, side arms down the other. The only thing out of place is a mud stained wooden box of grenades tucked into a corner, right next to his own ammo bag.

River stands back and watches him enter, a smug little smirk on her face. This is the one thing she thinks she got right.

Damocles grabs his pig's ear, just inside the door, and happily trots out again.

Richard, however, enters much more slowly not out of fear or caution, but simply out of awe. He can see his ballistics vest at the end of the room, the reinforced winter coat hanging next to it. On the long gun side hangs the old assault rifle, a new shotgun, and next to them, wonder of wonders, is an actual MP5. On the other wall is a new, spare P226.

He takes a few light steps towards the MP5, gently lifting it down and checking its condition. Factory new, in perfect working order, it's no wonder he didn't scent anything through the shelving. He turns to blink at her with a look of wonder on his face.

"Where did- How did you get all of this?"

"What, that old stuff?" she teases. "It was in the back of your closet. Just thought you might like a proper place to keep it."

She gives him a sly wink.

"Well- I mean- yes, but where did you get the MP5? The Remington?" He knows he didn't own those before, else he'd've been using them long before now. Oh, how he's missed his MP5.

Also, he's a bit flustered. Maybe she can tell.

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