katyafeline | (no subject)

Katya has gradually become used to the idea of calling Milliways a home, of sorts - and now her room reflects that. The anonymously boring bedsheets and blankets have been replaced by ones with riotous colors and textures - silks and velvets and thick wool. Bookshelves have slowly crept their way in, filled with second-hand books in a veritable United Nations-worth of languages, all rubbing elbows together with no sense of general organization, interspersed with various trinkets - a long white feather, two floppy-eared cloth rabbit dolls with shiny black button eyes, a slightly chipped china teacup with a delicate design in blue and gold.

And of course the swords - several swords, of various ages and descriptions, hung up on the walls. Her old collection is now long lost, but no one said she couldn't start again.

Of course, Katya isn't much in the mood for giving a tour and explanation at the moment.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

i_am_your_host

He lies still, sprawled and spent, panting heavily, his eyes closed to the world.

His hand loosens in her hair to gently cup the back of her head. It's an unconscious gesture, almost instinctual.

Her body simmers now, cooling down. He slides his fingers through the sheen of sweat on her back, and purrs deeply under her kisses.

From:

katyafeline

She smiles, one hand shifting to rest over his chest, over his heart, feeling it settle slowly. And if she mutters softly in her mother language, words and intent learned more from the babushkas on her patrol than from any trainer - what of it? Such energy is easy to spare, and she can bask in the feeling of well-being she lets sink slowly into his bones.

Oh shush.

Clearly it's all just an excuse to cuddle, sharing his warmth as the sweat dries.

From:

i_am_your_host

He's not a cuddler, but... It's not as if he could do anything about it. It's not like he's going to move or anything. That would be rude. And plus he can't. Too comfortable.

He curls his fingers in her hair, over and over. Tracing the curve of her ear. Gently scritching the nape of her neck as if she were a cat.

"That was wonderful, Tiger Cub."

His voice is a deep, rasping velvet.

From:

katyafeline

Perhaps it is too much of a tell, but she truly doesn't give a damn - she's practically boneless for petting, her plans to find her cigarettes (and a lighter, mustn't forget that, she's... pretty sure she has one around here somewhere, drat) put on temporary hold.

"You have a talent, Emcee, for inspiring one's best effort." Her own voice is still hoarse, the sound of it making her wonder about her neighbors. Maybe they got some good inspiration. "Like begets like, and that sort of thing."

From:

i_am_your_host

"Mmmm," he agrees, playfully smug even in this state of euphoria.

"But I could say the same for you."

He's suddenly overcome with the need to stretch, as one often is, and he does so, arching his back and shifting his legs against hers. They get tangled in the bedcovers, and that's just fine with him. He slumps back onto the mattress, as boneless and languid as she is.

From:

katyafeline

She huffs a laugh against his shoulder, pressing a kiss against his skin before pulling just far enough away to scrabble one-handed in the nearest bookshelf... there. The crinkle of cellophane and (hurrah!) the heavy rattle of the lighter sliding under questing fingers heralds her victory.

"Since we are both simply marvelous, care for a cigarette to celebrate?" She asks, wry humor in her tone.

From:

i_am_your_host

"Mmm, yes, a cigarette would be perfect, darling," he purrs, opening his eyes to pluck one from the pack.

"I must say, your vices are just absolutely lovely. They're just like mine."

From:

katyafeline

She holds the light steady for him, before lighting her own cigarette.

"What vices?" Katya asks incredulously, blowing smoke at the ceiling, "Don't tell me you feel guilty for any of this, I'd just have to find a way to correct that and frankly, I'm all fucked out for a bit."

From:

i_am_your_host

He tips his head back and laughs through a cloud of smoke.

"Guilty? Of course not. I'm merely using the term that society ascribes to the things that we do for fun."

From:

katyafeline

"Ah, society." She doesn't much pay attention to what society is up to in Skellig's world - she did more, when she was in Moscow, mostly so she could bemoan the state of affairs and how people were continuously and creatively messing up a good thing, and to gripe about ever-higher stiletto heels.

The wardrobe department had a deviated sense of humor and liked to see the Watch's hoyden stumble around like a baby giraffe.

"Best thing about this bar, I can tell the naysayers exactly what I think of them, and I get the pleasure of watching them splutter. It's fun."

What's even more fun is seeing just how many people she's failed to shock. People are so much more fun, here.

From:

i_am_your_host

He tucks an arm behind his head and slants an admiring grin at her.

"You see? We both have the same idea of fun. It's quite refreshing."

A beat, as he takes a drag off his cigarette.

"Speaking of refreshing, why oh why did I put the vodka down so far away? Fuck."

From:

katyafeline

She sighs at him, shaking her head in mock disappointment.

"You had one job..." Since she's the one with the socks (and lo, the socks are awesome), she decides to take one for the team and go fetch the half-finished bottle. She hisses when she stands, stretching abused thighs, gingerly prodding what's going to be some spectacular and fascinating bruising later.

But hey, she gets to drink the vodka first! Win.

From:

i_am_your_host

He pouts and shrugs helplessly, hiding behind his cigarette and a puff of smoke, but really, all the better to keep lying there on the bed to watch her delightfully naked form (except for the socks) get up and cross the room.

"Oh, darling, you are a martyr for our cause," he declares.

From:

katyafeline

She poses for a moment, trying for tragic (Ignat would manage it better, she's sure, but one sort of expects that from an incubus), before sauntering over to hand over the bottle. Of course, now that she's up, the draw of a shower is becoming equal to the draw of the bed.

Hmph. Such are the 'rewards' of industry. She goes to fetch the teacup (which is now serving its second life as an ashtray of sorts).

From:

i_am_your_host

She is adorable and sexy and he would eat her up, and he will probably do that later if she wants him to.

"Danke schön," he says as he takes the bottle and drags himself up to sit with his back to the headboard, where he lounges amongst the bedcovers like some Bacchanalian offspring. Aptly enough, he takes a swig straight from the bottle.

From:

katyafeline

"You are a picture of a well-spent day." She laughs, and clambers back up onto the bed. Who is she to go against such an impressive example?

Besides, he has the vodka.

She fumbles through the bedclothes for a moment before finding the packet of cigarettes so she can fish out another.

From:

i_am_your_host

"I have you to thank for that," he says with a lazy grin. "Or blame. Thank, blame, interchangeable, really. And the vodka as well, mustn't forget the vodka."

He passes the bottle to her.

From:

katyafeline

She wobbles a hand, unsure which term is more appropriate but willing to take on both.

And then she takes the bottle, because vodka is awesome.

"You're going to have to teach me German, though. And hope it isn't as fickle as my English." She points out before drinking, tossing the package of cigarettes between them.

From:

i_am_your_host

"English is always fickle," he remarks. "It's why I like it. But if I teach you German, you must teach me Russian. I have not met enough Russians to have a decent conversation in the language. Or better yet, an indecent one. But you might be able to help with that, I think."

From:

katyafeline

"That, I think, is a fair trade." She agrees, then laughs, a bright bold sound in the confines of the room. "And then, when a lonely Russian beauty comes into your club, you can offer to..." She leans over to whisper her suggestion in his ear, her Muscovite accent making the words roll like thick honey in her native language.

From:

i_am_your_host

He hums a pleased chuckle, her warm breath and lush words making his skin flush like a shot of vodka.

Turning his head so that there is very little space between their faces, he murmurs,

"I have no idea what you just said, but it sounds absolutely delicious. Is it something that you would like me to do to you or have I done it already?"

From:

katyafeline

She hums, considering for a moment.

"Perhaps some of it counts, but there is nothing wrong with repeating a favorite, no?"

From:

i_am_your_host

"Of course not. Favorites are meant to be repeated. That's why they're called favorites."

He smirks and runs the backs of his fingers along her jaw.

"I'm sure I can repeat your favorites a few more times tonight. And I can show you some of mine as well."

From:

katyafeline

"That is certainly a plan I can get behind." She smirks, leaning into the touch of his fingers, "One must be diligent in ones studies."

His lips are just too tempting to leave alone, really. She closes the distance, the kiss curious, questioning - yes?

Eh, perhaps this kiss was meant to come before all the other stuff. She's never been good at getting things in the right order.

From:

i_am_your_host

Yes is the unspoken reply as he encourages the kiss, leaning into it, the shared taste of cigarettes and vodka renewed on their lips and tongues.

And as long as they're having fun, he couldn't care less in what order all the other stuff was meant to happen. They'll get to everything in time.

[OOC: Head toward a fade here or continue? I'm good with either!]