The Train Tracks, New York, New York. - September, 2003.
One finger lazily traced the tattoo on his arm. They were long, these feathers that decorated the human foliage, and drawn with a skill that she could never hope to reproduce. Tink smiled, her hair covering her expression from Owls Cry, as the words of another rushed through her mind. The drawings, the scars, the willing pathways drawn onto his flesh, thrummed under her fingertips.
She kept her hazel eyes on his arm. His gaze was burning into the top of her head, drawing her very being to face him. Without looking, she could see his face -- the same dark, smoldering eyes from the bar earlier, the carefree smile he had tossed her when they stole the car, and the nimbus that reeked of a world wild and free. His person would not be resisted. There was only so long she could trace the tattoo on his arm, sitting here in the back seat of the stolen car by the railroad tracks. She knew why she had come, why she had agreed. The words of Eris rushed through her head: this was to be magical, amazing, deeper than anything she had felt, to open up a whole new world. Belle had the perfume on that Sevens had given her; she said it could seduce any man in the world on its own. The teenager wasn't so sure, but the expensive bottle had helped raise her courage. She knew, after watching the older teen for several nights, that tonight would be the night that she bent to his will. His gaze upon her head reinforced that truth, pulling at her mind and some hitherto unknown part of her soul. Blushing, she raised her eyes to meet his.
They were deep and entrancing. His lips came down on hers hard, yet still gentle and careful. Belle had this moment explained to her over and over, yet the words of the older women, and all the practice in the world on pillows, did nothing to prepare her for the powerful crush of a peer who wanted her. His Life and her Forces combined, sending shocks down her in waves. She gasped under him, trying to pull him into her, and heard Owls Cry's chuckle in response. He pushed her back, brushing the air from her face, and cupped her chin. Belle shook her head, trying to free her chin from his grasp, and return to the exploration that he had interrupted.
His voice was full of warmth. "Easy, little fairy," he reassured as a playful smile curled his lips. "I want to know your mind is here too. I want to know you," he moved his hand to the back of her neck and she relaxed into it, resting her weight into his strong grasp, as his other hand tapped against her forehead, "you - your mind - is here with me."
The Thyrsus almost hissed at him. Her eyes were unfocused as she again strained forward. His good humor did not leave as he waited for thought to return to her eyes, ignoring her kitten-like kneading on his chest. As her hazel eyes slowly returned to their normal clarity, the blush started running up her cheeks. She started to pull back, but he again caught her in his strong embrace. This time the kiss was quick, reasserting the moment without drawing her into his abyss. He tapped lightly on her forehead once more.
"Yes, yes." Her rarely used voice was horse, ragged. "I know what I'm doing." She blushed bright red and attempted to pull away, but his arms were strong around her. She settled for burying her face into the crook of his shoulder. Her voice was the slightest whisper when she again spoke. "I want you."
Now it was his eyes that blazed as he pulled her demure withdrawal out of his shoulder and onto his lips. Her blush faded from embarrassment to passion as his mouth found her lips, her throat, sending her reeling against his grasp. Owls Cry's hands tightened in her hair, and for a moment panic rose in her throat. Eris' words came to her; panic would come, but it was okay, apparently she should simply let it pass over like a wave, and enjoy what was happening. He seemed to sense her discomfort and slowed, kissing lightly upon her hairline and cheeks until her eyes again shone for him.
Belle struggled to pull his overshirt off. In the backseat of the car it was hard; there was no room to properly stretch or pull of the onerous piece of clothing. She growled passionately when she discovered his undershirt, but it proved no match for the fires her magic commanded. She tossed the ruined fabric aside and traced his tattoos onto his chest. They spiraled over his muscles, accenting and highlighting his lean frame. He stopped kissing her long enough for her hands to trace the patterns up his arm, down his chest, and onto the broad, flat plane of his stomach. The young blond blushed as the tattoos danced below the waistline of his jeans, darting her hands back as if they had been burned. Owls Cry's smile was calm and patient as he watched her return to the exploration of his chest.
Her wide eyes met his again, and he pulled her against him. This time his hands tore at her clothing. Belle moaned against his mouth as his hands slipped under her shirt and bra, gasping as he found her nipples. She grasped against him, biting at his lip, the passion overtaking her. He pulled back once again. "Fairy, you sure this is what you want?"
Her gaze was dark, almost murderous. "If you stop again, I will kill you."
He chuckled into her mouth as his lips again found hers. "Fair enough."
Owls Cry's words were lost in her murmurs, his hands exploring her body as she latched onto his lip. Belle moaned and ground against him as he pushed her back upon the cheap vinyl seat of the stolen vehicle. Her hands curled over his ass as he rubbed fully against her. Pulling up, he was able to both look down at her writhing form, as well as give his hand access to the buttons of her jeans. With one firm pull, her 501's snapped open, and the blood rushed to Belle's face. He was instantly on her, kissing and reassuring until she was again clinging to him.
His hand found its way down her pants. Looking down into her eyes, he found the anticipated blossom of passion -- but the electricity running through them was a bit unexpected. Owls Cry kissed her again, only to find it flicker through his body. It felt like his very blood was on fire, as his little fairy's mixture of Life and Forces played bloody hell with his senses. She gasped, her breath coming in ragged spurts, as her magic carried her passion through his veins. Belle was lost in him, aware of his presence even through her closed eyes. As she arched into him, her body screaming with its final passion, her magic got away from her. It flooded him with her passion, her nascent freedom, her joy...it became almost painful, the experience shared between them, and then, as her voice screamed ragged under him, the power ripped through him. All the horror of a teenage girl on the streets, all the pain of a lifelong mage, all the revulsion of a child of crime, came flooding through Owls Cry at once. As she found the peak of her passion, he found the depth of her pain.
When her breath settled, her senses slowly came back to her. Belle could feel the sweat of Owls Cry's chest against hers, the smell of his shampoo as his hair fell across her forehead, the sweat murmur of his breath in her ear, and the horrific banging on the window of the stolen car. It took no time at all to locate the black blur smashing against the steamed up back seat window. The condensation blocked all visibility, so she attempted to button her pants and shake the man with her into some kind of action. He seemed groggy when he looked at her, and from his point of view, it was difficult to tell even where she was. His head felt like it had been put in a vice, and his worst hangover felt better than this slight girl's orgasm. Seeing her concerned look, he smiled reassuringly at her.
In frustration Belle wrenched his head to look at the window, just in time for it to shatter. Glass spilled inwards, causing both of them to shield their faces. She glanced around the sheltering body of Owls Cry to look at who their intruder was. Tink's spells died in her throat as she saw the lumbering form of her brother staring in. Her expression was familiar, but it was the first time she had ever been on this side of it. He was going to kill someone. There was no question in her mind; tonight, something would die.
Nimbly, she pried herself out from under her partner and flung herself in front of her brother. He still had the glock raised that he had broken the window with. Veronica, Belle's mind supplied unhelpfully. Pausing for just the slightest moment, she threw herself forward at him.
"Smoke, please. Please, please, please." She'd later hate herself for not being able to find real words. He had no reaction, ignoring her as if she was not there. If anything, his face darkened slightly as he looked over her at the young man pulling himself out of the back seat of the car. "Please, please, please, Smoke. Please. Vince, Vince, please."
He took a step forward and she latched onto his gun arm. His attention finally shifted to her. "Go home, Tink."
She shook her head wildly as she stayed latched onto his arm. Smoke sighed very slightly and pried her off of it. Gently, but exceedingly firmly, he pushed her away from him. "Go home, Tink."
Belle went to leap at him again. Smoke, very calmly, raised Veronica as if to backhand her. Baffled, she froze, watching him. He held the gun there and turned his attention fully on her. "Go home, Tink."
She stared at the gun for a moment before she seemed to realize that he was threatening her. His eyes were dark, darker than she'd ever seen them. Belle paused, looking between her brother and Owls Cry, before making up her mind. She screamed at her brother before running off into the night: "I hate you. I hate you. I hate you."
Smoke watched her go, before turning his gaze back to the tattooed covered man still pulling himself from the car. The echo of earlier made Owls Cry appear drugged as he attempted to pull himself together. His state mattered little to Smoke. The worse he was now, the easier Smoke's job would be.
Owls Cry was still struggling to see straight as the first blow hit his jaw. More effective than ice water rushing over him, the pain jolted him out of his daze. Sporting a grin much darker than the one he had gifted to Tink only moments before, he went to fight back. The earlier experiences handicapped him; Owls Cry's mind was still disoriented and screaming. Part of him was still with the girls pleasure, another part with the pain, but mostly he was here with Smoke...getting his ass kicked.
The fight wasn't very long, nor was it very fair, as Smoke beat Owls Cry down with the but of his gun. Smoke's rage at this...creature...touching his naive little sister was overwhelming, and that played itself out on Owls Cry's flesh. There would be no pretty boy incubi to seduce poor innocents once Smoke was done with the sinner before him. And, indeed, when Smoke placed the tattooed body into the trunk of the stolen car, there was little other than the owl feathers on its forearms to pronounce its identity. When Jou found the unconscious body hours later, it was only by Belle's vague description of the car, and those distinctive markings, that she could even recognize the young mage.