mental link

[justttkidding]

DISTANCE hammer at it long enough and fissures run through	TACTILE maybe what you want isn't so far after all
LOYALTY you're making this harder than it has to be	CONTRACTOR pay up

( CODE BY WHAMBAM )

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[sistershoggoth]

[ There's nothing quite as open and freeing as laughter in the midst of sex. She's extremely prone to it, she gets giddy and relaxed in a way that makes it obvious why she's after it as often as she is. She wants to tear down all of her restraints, to engage with someone on a spectrum that is devoid of anxiety for her. All movement and exertion and spiking, mounting, desire that will lead to a delirious, giggling release.

He may be so much more structured on the inside, but that doesn't mean it's not fun for her to make a mess of it. Assuredly, even, she leaves handprints of chaos and color on his lovely white things and then turns with coy defiance for the reprimand, challenging him to get her under control.

Or she'll just be here, making a mess of things. He'll have to clean up after her sooner or later.

What? Is he just going to sit there and watch her flick all his teacups off their shelves?

Laughter, warm skin sliding, all play grappling for a position that she'll settle into and keep, she can be a wretched, smirking tease. ]

[justttkidding]

( A whirlwind, aren't you? )

[ It's not said snidely, or even meanly. Almost like stating a fact, except for the hint of humor that edges it in. Calmly, he meets her chaos with an unperturbed air, watches as she leaves fingerprints on the crisp edges of white, billowing curtains. All along the countertops. Teacups come crashing down on the tiled floors, scattering ceramic and fine china into little colorful bits.

In reality, it should be upsetting, but it isn't. Not here, where he's charged with the logical reordering of his own mind. He'll fix it, eventually. Maybe the cups will be a different color, different pattern. The curtains– maybe he'll keep the colorful handprints. He sort of likes how they stick out on the white.

The ceramic cups are neither here nor there and a breeze blows in, cool to the touch, refreshing. It mimics how he blows a gust of air along her neck, follows it with a kiss. There's flashes of warm sun filtering in through the window, too hot to stand in for long, but sinking into the skin all the same.

She's intangible and tangible like this. In their connection, he laughs as he lifts her and all her colors and sounds off her feet, twirling. Some of his icy edges drip, cool water puddling under them. ]

[sistershoggoth]

[ She is an absolute natural disaster. It came with the territory, really, of being so much more than just a woman. She's also every particle of an ocean, every inch of growth in a forest, every decaying pile of bones, every quake in the earth, every breeze-- She's a very good choice for a host, in her way. She already knew how to hold many things in her mind, but... she was a force of nature; not a careful creature of logic the way the Nest really needed her to be. Her strengths were her weaknesses; her strengths were what made her dangerous to the hosts around her who did not have her immensity. She had warned him, that while this could assuredly be fun, it wouldn't necessarily be easy on him.

Not that he's struggling to keep up with her, retaining his composure beyond the sweat on his brow. She'd love to him really rumpled and absolutely fucking put out one day. Her grin is sharp, mean-spirited, at the thought, and she doesn't bother to hide it. How could she, at this point. Cruel little daydreams, but she's relented her struggle and settled comfortably across his lap, her sigh of breath a lot sweeter; liquid and warm.

She hadn't intended to get quite so comfortable. These kind of things were usually a lot more desperate but the smell of lavender and mint makes her breathing slower, eyes heavy lidded and content like she's complacent with a lover she's known a long time. Not that she ever stuck with any lover for long at all, that was a vulnerable business that might lead to something like an actual relationship--

An unwelcome thought, that one, and she shivers, huffs a breath and buries her face in his hair, more demanding than before. That's exactly the kind of shit he should be distracting her from. ]

[justttkidding]

( My apologies. )

[ He can tell she's not trying to be comfortable, content. But something in how she moves like a natural disaster clicks on all of his defenses, willing or not. Here, it's to subdue, to keep her from breaking too much. November isn't intent on doing it on purpose, but his mind rearranges and reorganizes to do it anyway. Contractor instinct.

But, he's also in charge of what his mind projects. So he leans down, kisses her neck, scrapes his teeth along the skin there. His hands are sliding up her small top, thumbs picking out her ribs and scratching with short nails. Instead of mint and warm breezes, the sun slips lower, hot and in their eyes from the mental window.

Shadows creep along the corners, spread up the walls, eating away at the details. The fog of it blankets the floor, curls around their ankles and sits there, an emptiness, a hunger. It thrums with an unnerving electricity, sparking at the nerve endings. ]

[sistershoggoth]

[ There's something interesting there in the way he both does and does not have control of that. Even more so as a new host. There are questions to be asked about what he really is and what he can really do, but... Well, the change in gears does the trick. Her next huff of breath is more from excitement than impatience, heat building low in her body. ]

( Shut up, sweetheart. )

[ And just let the dark hungry bits of themselves twine together. ]