You're a mean one

[lady_fister]

WHO: Wu and Orson
WHERE: Fisting House
WHEN: Tonight?
WARNINGS: None Kissing. Adorable, saccharine kissing.
SUMMARY: All heroes in the City liked Christmas a lot

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[honorindeath]

He's sitting in a mockery of the lotus position, back slouched, legs folded, and a half-empty beer bottle resting on his thigh. Orson arches his eyebrow and shrugs, universal language for 'yeah, so?'.

"//Not possible,//" he replies briskly, capping the thought with a swig of beer. "//He is powered by sunshine and good will toward men. He could use some toughening up.//"

It's only half a joke. He feels that Wu should understand his position, being his elder and all.

[honorindeath]

"//If that was for you, that wasn't anywhere near a good enough taste,//" he says, as if it's just that simple. When she's like this, he can almost pretend that she's any woman, and not some kind of exalted pseudo-ancestor

[lady_fister]

A little thrill of excitement runs down Wu's spine when Orson tugs at her hair and she smiles with childlike delight.

"//Oh?//"

She lets herself be pulled back towards Orson, sliding her arms around his neck and climbing up onto the couch to straddle his legs so that she doesn't need to bend down awkwardly. Her position ends up being a little more intimate than she had intended it to be, but once she's there, well. She's not uncomfortable, so it seems pointless to move.

[honorindeath]

If he were the type of guy to let shyness get at him, he would've been rolling in it. There was the question of why him---which he had ten answers to, but none of them were acceptable. Even if he didn't understand why she chose him, there was no way that he would tell the Pirate Queen 'no' or 'stop' or even 'leave me alone'.

The kiss was for her, anyway.

She settles back into his lap, knees hugging his sides and bottle of beer definitely forgotten outside of his peripherals.

Orson spreads his palms over her hips, keeping her in place as he leans in to give her a proper kiss. This is one of those opportunities that doesn't come up twice in your life.

[lady_fister]

Wu sucks in a little breath of surprise when Orson deepens the kiss. She really doesn't have a lot of experience with this sort of thing. Her marriage had technically lasted for a long time, but she and her husband had been sleeping together for a very small part of it.

Rather than let herself be overwhelmed by the sensation, though, Wu leans into it, trying to enjoy as much of this as she can before it ends. She arches a little more into Orson and opens her mouth, trying to mimic what he's doing. She's always been a quick study.

[honorindeath]

She's clumsy but honest, hasty in her kiss but raw with the desire to poke around and investigate this new territory. It didn't surprise him that she was an amateur when it came to kissing---not exactly looked kindly upon for women to be virtuous wives and also sexually competent. She's not shy, though, so it doesn't feel (so much) like courting a young girl who doesn't have a clue how a man and woman fit together.

He's slow about the kiss, leisurely. Truth be told, he's still a little bit drunk. The beer had been a top-off drink, a little bit of alcohol to stretch out the scotch he'd had earlier. When she opens her mouth and pushes her tight little body up against him, he exhales noisily and cups her jaw.

Not bad. Not bad at all.

Maybe he'll rethink Christmas cheer.

[lady_fister]

The taste of alcohol lingers in Orson's mouth and Wu licks it away without a hint of hesitance. The flavour is a familiar one, but it's different, experienced second hand like this. She's not sure if she likes it or not, but then, she's sure that she'll have many chances to figure out. Underneath all the bristling, Orson is a good man. He wouldn't take advantage of her only to leave. Of course not.

The thought makes Wu smile as she pulls back from the kiss to breathe. She looks very thoroughly kissed with her hair mussed and her lips swollen and red. Suddenly demure, she tilts her head down and looks up at Orson through her eyelashes.

"//I... liked that.//"

Implied in her statement is the question "can we do it again?"

[honorindeath]

Her statement's stuffed full of meaning. He's not sure if it means again or more, just that it means something. He's not going to make it complicated. Orson's had his fill of complication, so he isn't going to ask any unnecessary questions.

Let it be, let it come. That's how she seems to live, at least, and maybe he can learn from that.

"//Not bad for a failure of a predecessor, right?//"

[lady_fister]

Lazily, Wu lets her taut muscles relax, flowing over Orson and sinking down a little so that her cheek is resting on his shoulder. There's a funny feeling in her chest, flickering like a candle flame. She doesn't know how to define it right now, but it burns brighter when Orson's voice rumbles through her.

"//No, not bad at all. And as a successor... maybe you are barely adequate.//"

She laughs a little, breath puffing over Orson's jaw.

[honorindeath]

He laughs a little at that as well, but it's as bitter as the poppies he's so fond of. It doesn't hold much humor because it's an errant strike that hits a little too hard. Barely adequate indeed.

"//Coming from you, adequacy is more than enough,//" he said, tucking a long hank of dark hair behind her ear and shifting his weight back. Not that he doesn't like having a girl in his lap, but she is very...near. Very real. When Wu trains her attention on something, she's intense. It's hard to be in the crosshairs for too long when that more or again question is still hanging overhead.

[lady_fister]

Orson pulls back, but Wu just lets herself fall forward with him. For all that it's an obvious fact, it's not until times like these when Wu realizes just how much bigger than her Orson is. It feels like she could sink into him, crawl under his skin and just have him surround her, protected and warm.

"//But why settle for it?//"

She hasn't felt that way with anyone before. She's never been in a situation like this with a warrior of Orson's caliber before, either. After all, she'll never admit it, but in terms of skill, he's not too far behind her.

"//I'm sure an attempt at better than adequate performance could be made.//"

The way she purrs her words gives them an obvious double meaning. She's still interested in more, but underneath it all, she's unsure about pushing too much. Let Orson pull back in return, even if only a little bit.

[honorindeath]

He wonders about the social norms of the 1500s, and whether or not she is an exemption or a prime example of the general attitude. Since K'un-Lun is basically a city stuck in time, he doesn't see it being much more sexually relaxed than China five hundred years back---which means that she's a strange one by their standards.

That, or she's just competitive. He doesn't feel like the notches in his belt are anything to want to mirror. Orson's hand is still loose around her hip; he traces the cradle of her hip bone with his thumb.

"//Are you asking to spar?//" Orson asks, arching a grayed eyebrow like he doesn't know better. "//I don't think our successor would be pleased if we damaged the apartment.//"

[lady_fister]

Wu knows that she shouldn't be moving this far or fast with Orson. It's not right, it's not proper, it's not what a lady should do... but sometimes she gets tired of trying to be a lady. By virtue of her title alone, she is already a failure at the pursuit of womanliness. She's too loud, too hard, to bright and bold. The Pirate Queen is feared and respected, but not loved.

And suddenly, here is Orson who comes from a time that is so close to her own and who understands exactly what she is... and he wants her anyway.

So while she knows that what she's doing is wrong on many levels, how can Wu risk the chance that he might slip away from her?

"//If you think I am asking to spar, you are more senile than I had first thought, Orson.//"

[honorindeath]

He wonders how much she knows about him, about his time as the Iron Fist. About his mental defeat during the war. About all the years running since then. About Wendell, his wife, and all that he gave to everyone around him just so that they'd leave him alone.

Even after all these years, losing face to that extent makes something inside him curl and blacken with shame. He wants to think that she does know and doesn't care, but that can't be the case. Danny's mouth doesn't run that much.

"//Shou-Lao doesn't choose the mentally infirm,//" Orson says as he runs light fingers from her hip to thigh. "//But it may choose the slow, once in a while. Daniel is proof of that.//"

He talks big words, still has enough of his head to joke, but he's still on the precipice of decision. The worst that could happen of this is that she, Wu Ao-Shi, would consider him a crass old bull and refuse to speak to him. The best case scenario had her right where she was, minus a few key pieces of clothing.

[lady_fister]

Wu knows very little about Orson's past, it's true, but he is an Iron Fist. To be worthy of such a title is to have a certain amount of worthiness already.

"//Now, now. He isn't that slow.//" Wu shivers as Orson draws his hands down her legs and blushes just a little bit more, tipping her gaze down and away as she feels the heat rising in her cheeks. Suddenly she wonders if maybe he's about to play a cruel joke on her in return for the playful trick with the mistletoe earlier. She hopes not, but decides to test the waters again, just to be sure.

"//And certainly he is not nearly as slow as you are being right now.//"

[honorindeath]

In the end, for all the dragging his thoughts in the mud and indecision, he decides what the hell: he's dead already anyway. What does he have to lose that he hasn't lost before? He's still careful though, quiet. He doesn't want to take this anywhere or at any speed that the indomitable Pirate Queen herself doesn't want it.

Orson kisses her again, the mistletoe and beer bottle long since discarded for better, newer things. She's small and soft and just about fucking perfect when curled up against him.

He'll figure out what this means later. Maybe. Or he'll just continue to not question it and let it---this---be.