He's tanned, too. But there's no red, because his genetic dictates that he be able to tan with a nearly obnoxious grace. Even with the tattoos. And even with the beach, which is too hot, uncomfortably sandy, and full of loud people, he is ... enjoying himself. Enjoying himself enough to presently be enjoying the view of the lit-up harbor from their hotel room, smoking a cigarette and finishing the martini - he had no idea whose it was - that was left on the low table.
"That's what room service is for," he says over his shoulder, flopping his head back even though he can't quite see her.
She knows all about this lack-of-burn he's got going on, and she loathes him for it in her own way, which means getting revenge in little ways that probably don't look like revenge to him at all. Most of her revenge is insubstantial anyway, and most of it involves being somewhat teasing. She's still trying to perfect it all, really.
Faye doesn't feel like sticking around in the bathroom anymore, so she comes out into the main room and tries to make it seem as though she isn't automatically gravitating toward where he's standing. But, hey, she smells smoke and he looks like he's drinking something interesting.
"Does that mean you grew a brain and called it or something?" she asks, next to him now and pressing her nose against the glass. There's the Merlion. And it works, too.
He puts out his cigarette and steps up behind her, wrapping his arms around her middle and resting his chin on her shoulder (lightly, and not where it's red). The martini is still in hand, held gently out of the way before her.
"I did." He kisses her neck, chaste, and then just watches the view. It really is beautiful. The fountain, he feels, is exactly what she needed to see.
It's still strange, all of this. Not Frederick, it's not strange anymore, it's anything but strange now. But Singapore in general, seeing it this way - she keeps expecting to wake up, moreso than she ever did in the City.
Faye makes a soft noise in the back of her throat when he kisses her neck, just enjoying it for what it is, before she lightly snatches that martini and takes a drink because she needs to distract herself. Then she turns, back to the window, facing him, and drops her arms over his shoulders, glass and all. "You know, if I didn't know better I'd say you were trying to keep me here. This is like kidnapping. I'm a prisoner." Her tone is somewhat haughty, but she's obviously playing games.
The shadow of a smirk crosses her face, especially as his thumbs wander over those parts of her that happen to be regretfully ticklish. Faye does her best not to squirm, because it is suddenly Very Important that she keep up appearances.
She anticipates the kiss but when it never comes she jerks her head back away from his lips, thankfully not bashing her head against the window, but rather just laying it back against it, which puts the rest of her body in an interesting position but she doesn't adjust. With her head against the glass, Faye inclines an eyebrow. She still has the glass in her hand and she brings it to her mouth to take another sip - it's almost gone.
"Then I guess you don't know me as well as you think you do."
Frederick leans in, nuzzling against her throat. He kisses along the arch of her neck as she speaks, slow. It's surreal, up against the glass like this, and his hands drift to the small of her back. He doesn't respond to her right away, too intent on finder her pulse with his lips.
"...S'why I kidnapped you. To find out." It's a low murmur, intimate and very nearly heated, but not quite.
Of all the things to realize, Faye realizes that she doesn't have anywhere to put the glass, and she's concerned that if he keeps doing that, she's going to spill it all over herself. But she doesn't want to break away to set it down, not with the new pressure of his hands against her back, which is also a little burnt but which bothers her... pretty much not at all right now.
Faye brings her free hand up to the back of his neck and curls her fingers in his hair, yanking just a bit, so that maybe he'll pull back to look at her. "There're more original ways of going about that." Her voice is just as low, perhaps lower, all things considered, but there's a leash on it.
She's so beautiful - she's more intoxicating than the drink could ever hope to be. The setting is like something out of a dream, or a movie, beyond anything even he could have foreseen. It's so easy to just let himself be taken in by it.
His eyes, when they meet hers, have an edge of intensity to them that's deep and meant only for her. "I could interrogate you."
And he does kiss her then, fully, arms pulling her close against him.
Faye isn't at all intimidated by the look in his eyes, and she's already grinning when he kisses her. Her fingers clench at the nape of his neck, nails scratching over his skin, as she allows him to pull her against him. Faye wishes she would have gotten rid of the glass and just--fuck it.
She drops it, thinks she hears it hit the table and then the carpet, but she doesn't care. Both her arms fully around him now, she gives up and one of those disgustingly embarrassing noises she makes in her throat creep out as she exhales hard for a moment.
There's a million possible things she could say to his comment, but this is more important. Them, here. Them, now. Them, period. Faye doesn't know where it's going - momentary or long-term - but she's not at all worried about it anymore.
After too long she pulls back, breath coming quick, and says, "You could try."
The sound of the glass breaking prompts him to pull her even closer, biting at her lower lip before she pulls back to speak. He doesn't move far from her, kissing the side of her mouth as she finishes.
He's rarely aggressive, and even now he's only barely so in the way his hands move against her clothed skin - the heat is simmering, contained, but if she's paying attention she might see it there just beneath the surface. He kisses her again, flush against her.
When he pulls back, he murmurs against her lips, "I bet I could get some excellent information out of you if my interrogation tactics included rubbing aloe on your back."
She actually snorts and comes forward to kiss him again, bunching his shirt at his shoulder up in her fist. Faye, on the contrary, is nothing if not aggressive, but there are things about her that force her to be unsure, namely the fact that she's been dicked over so many times in the past by other men. But she does trust Frederick, even though he's historically skipped out of town twice now, even though she can sense that simmering just beneath the surface. She trusts him enough to twist when he touches her
( ... )
He doesn't so much let go of her when she slinks away as lets his hands slide over her as she moves, watching her with that intensity still. He wants her, but he'd never pressure her in any way, though he'll rile her like this if he can. Because how is he supposed to pretend he's not as deeply attracted to her as he is?
He picks up the glass - thankfully there's no shards, just two large broken pieces - and leaves it forgotten on the table before following her.
There's a pile of her things on the other side of the low dresser that she actually just kicks through briefly, looking for a bright green bottle. So she's a little sloppy - can you fault her? And though she's digging through some things with particular interest, it isn't as if she's not paying any attention to Frederick whatsoever. That would be an impossibility, she's discovered, no matter how hard she tried.
"You don't sound very convinced," she says, crouched down next to the headboard now, going through the large bag they'd toted to the beach everyday. Success! "The first thing you've gotta realize about a challenge is that you need to be, you know, into it." Faye stands and tosses the plastic bottle at him without warning. "You can't be all laid back and apathetic."
There's a teasing tone in her voice, though some of that intensity from before has carried over as well.
He's already just in a button-up t-shirt and jeans, and he crawls onto the bed on the opposite side of her, catching the bottle easily. As if he saw it coming.
For a moment she just scowls. Faye doesn't like being ordered around to do anything, no matter how benign the task. But considering what was happening just a moment ago, watching him crawl onto the bed makes her brain fizz out and so she just smirks and does as she's told.
"Yes, sir," she says, very, very mockingly, flopping down and sliding across the bed. Faye doesn't even bother sitting. She just stretches horizontally along the middle of the bed close to him and pillows her head on her hands, looking up at him as if to say 'now what?'
"That's what room service is for," he says over his shoulder, flopping his head back even though he can't quite see her.
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Faye doesn't feel like sticking around in the bathroom anymore, so she comes out into the main room and tries to make it seem as though she isn't automatically gravitating toward where he's standing. But, hey, she smells smoke and he looks like he's drinking something interesting.
"Does that mean you grew a brain and called it or something?" she asks, next to him now and pressing her nose against the glass. There's the Merlion. And it works, too.
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"I did." He kisses her neck, chaste, and then just watches the view. It really is beautiful. The fountain, he feels, is exactly what she needed to see.
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Faye makes a soft noise in the back of her throat when he kisses her neck, just enjoying it for what it is, before she lightly snatches that martini and takes a drink because she needs to distract herself. Then she turns, back to the window, facing him, and drops her arms over his shoulders, glass and all. "You know, if I didn't know better I'd say you were trying to keep me here. This is like kidnapping. I'm a prisoner." Her tone is somewhat haughty, but she's obviously playing games.
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"I do believe you've found me out," he says, matching her tone. "But now that you know, I'll never let you escape."
He leans in as if to kiss her, but just ghosts his lips over hers, teasing.
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She anticipates the kiss but when it never comes she jerks her head back away from his lips, thankfully not bashing her head against the window, but rather just laying it back against it, which puts the rest of her body in an interesting position but she doesn't adjust. With her head against the glass, Faye inclines an eyebrow. She still has the glass in her hand and she brings it to her mouth to take another sip - it's almost gone.
"Then I guess you don't know me as well as you think you do."
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"...S'why I kidnapped you. To find out." It's a low murmur, intimate and very nearly heated, but not quite.
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Faye brings her free hand up to the back of his neck and curls her fingers in his hair, yanking just a bit, so that maybe he'll pull back to look at her. "There're more original ways of going about that." Her voice is just as low, perhaps lower, all things considered, but there's a leash on it.
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His eyes, when they meet hers, have an edge of intensity to them that's deep and meant only for her. "I could interrogate you."
And he does kiss her then, fully, arms pulling her close against him.
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She drops it, thinks she hears it hit the table and then the carpet, but she doesn't care. Both her arms fully around him now, she gives up and one of those disgustingly embarrassing noises she makes in her throat creep out as she exhales hard for a moment.
There's a million possible things she could say to his comment, but this is more important. Them, here. Them, now. Them, period. Faye doesn't know where it's going - momentary or long-term - but she's not at all worried about it anymore.
After too long she pulls back, breath coming quick, and says, "You could try."
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He's rarely aggressive, and even now he's only barely so in the way his hands move against her clothed skin - the heat is simmering, contained, but if she's paying attention she might see it there just beneath the surface. He kisses her again, flush against her.
When he pulls back, he murmurs against her lips, "I bet I could get some excellent information out of you if my interrogation tactics included rubbing aloe on your back."
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He picks up the glass - thankfully there's no shards, just two large broken pieces - and leaves it forgotten on the table before following her.
"...It might be."
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"You don't sound very convinced," she says, crouched down next to the headboard now, going through the large bag they'd toted to the beach everyday. Success! "The first thing you've gotta realize about a challenge is that you need to be, you know, into it." Faye stands and tosses the plastic bottle at him without warning. "You can't be all laid back and apathetic."
There's a teasing tone in her voice, though some of that intensity from before has carried over as well.
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He smirks faintly.
"Come sit down."
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"Yes, sir," she says, very, very mockingly, flopping down and sliding across the bed. Faye doesn't even bother sitting. She just stretches horizontally along the middle of the bed close to him and pillows her head on her hands, looking up at him as if to say 'now what?'
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