the ►dating/sexing/married since FOREVER◄ meme 1. Post with your character(s) 2. Comment to other threads after going to random.org and randomising a number between one and five. 3. ??? 4. PROFIT!(stolen from
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"How about I strangle you with that water hose over there, huh?"
Not that he was going to be getting up and moving around any time soon. Thank God his jacket was within reach, on the off chance she aimed a pitchfork for certain anatomical parts; he had enough knives hidden in its many pockets to hold her off if need be.
"Jesus. For a fucking Heart, you sure are a bitch." But Lord Almighty, if she were in the Spade suit, one of them would either be dead already, or neither of them would get an ounce of sleep.
"How about you try to get close enough to me to even start to attempt that?" she snaps back as she adjusts the many knives she usually has stowed away under her clothes.
"And you sure as hell didn't seem to give a fuck ten minutes ago." She carefully gets to her feet - no, they're not wobbly, don't be ridiculous - and looks around for her shirt and bra.
He finally shoved up on his elbows and leveled her a look that sent lesser numbers fleeing for their lives.
"If I did, hellbitch, you'd never see it coming." Ethan snatched his jeans out of the haypile and shoved in one leg after the other, staggering to his feet to finish pulling them over his hips. God, he felt like shit.
Hunting around for his shirt, he spied it hanging somewhat haphazardly from the top of the stall. He snatched it down, shoving his arms in the sleeves. "Ten minutes ago, my options were either kill you or fuck you." Not bothering to button the shirt, he raked hands through his hair, dislodging bits of straw.
She counters it with a glare of her own. She goes on to say sarcastically, "Oh, I'm sure. Asshole." She finally finds her bra, pulling it on as she scowls at him.
"I don't have to be glad about anything. You couldn't lay a finger on me." She hikes up her jeans a little as she finally spies her shirt halfway across the stables. Why. "And it's not like sex with you is any great anyway. I've had better." What lies.
Ethan's snort startled the horses nearby. "Oh, I beg to fucking differ." He stalked across the stall, took her by the shoulder and spun her around, looming over her darkly. "If that's the case, then why didn't you wipe the floor with me, little Heart?" Blue eyes flashed but his mouth remained in that stern line.
"Why don't you kick my ass all the way across the grounds, if you're that good? Maybe it's because you just can't keep your hands off me for that long." Now that mobile mouth slanted in an evilly knowing smirk. "...ain't that right, Blythe?"
She put a finger to her chin in mock-thought, tapping it a few times, then said sarcastically, "this is more fun."
And then she scoffed as he went on, rolling her eyes. "There's nothing about you that's remotely attractive, Ethan. You're just an okay fuck. On your good days. I can definitely keep my hands off of you. What am I doing right now?"
Ethan snickered. "Your pupils dilate when you lie, did you know that?" He touched a long finger to the indentation of her collarbone and trailed it with deliberate slowness down between her breasts, catching on the edge of her bra, the exact same path his tongue had followed not so very long ago. "And you want me to believe you followed me down here for an 'okay fuck' when the only thing you know how to 'ride' is me."
His expression became so saturnine. "Gonna have to get better at that fabricating, mi cara. If you really want to play with the big kids."
"You're lying to me," she immediately snarled in retaliation. "I'm not a fucking dumbass. And I didn't follow you down here." She grabbed at his hand, yanking it away from her chest and look up into his eyes. Damn being 5'2" in times like these.
"You're such a bastard, Ethan. And for the record, I am a big kid."
He jerked away, all but growling in seething irritation. "Whatever, Blythe. Still, nothing else explains why I keep tripping over your tender little ass every time I fucking turn around."
Ethan snatched up his boots, swinging them at the stall door to jolt it open. He stepped out, saying over a shoulder, "Be sure to clean up the mess. Mel'll be pissed to see that tack all over the floor."
"Maybe you should just stay out of my way for a change, huh?" She spat back at him.
When he picked up his boots and headed towards the door, she lunged at him, hand clutching onto his shirt and tugging him back with surprising strength. "Like hell you're going to leave me to clean all of this shit up. You pick it up, you fucker."
Caught off balance by her sudden vehemence, Ethan stumbled backwards a pace but twisted like cat, dropping his boots and sliding out of his shirt, leaving her holding the abused fabric. He spun behind her, snatched her by the waist and all but slammed her against the side of the stall, pinning her with his heavier body and immediately closing both hands around her wrists, no fool he.
Flush behind her, lips brushing her ear, breath stirring the tendrils of her hair, he snarled in a low growl, "Fuck. You, you bitch. You started this shit, I gave you what you wanted, end of story." He wedged a knee between her thighs, not about to give the first inch.
Her breath left her in a whoosh as her body hit the wall, her fingers only managing to curl slightly before he pinned her wrists.
Turning her head to one side, she glared straight into his eyes. Her lips were a bare few centimeters from his as she spoke. "I never wanted anything, you bastard. You're the one who thinks you're such a fucking superstar when you're not." She wriggled a little, trying to slip out of his tight grasp.
Her breath left her again, but this time, for a completely different reason. She swallowed, then asked, "what are you talking about? You're the one who practically jumps me every time you see me." Though in reality, she would say it was about half-and-half.
God, he couldn't help it. Lips brushed her ear and hands formerly tight as a vise eased, sliding slowly down her arms. His body molded against hers, hard planes to soft curves. The knee between hers hitched a bit higher, knowingly suggestive.
"Give it up, Blythe," he breathed harshly, teeth grazing skin behind her ear, nose nuzzling with firm surety. "It's fucking addicting and you damned well know it."
He slithered to the other side, breath a little too ragged, voice a bit too harsh. "You want it...you want it just as much as I do, mi dolce cuore..."
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Not that he was going to be getting up and moving around any time soon. Thank God his jacket was within reach, on the off chance she aimed a pitchfork for certain anatomical parts; he had enough knives hidden in its many pockets to hold her off if need be.
"Jesus. For a fucking Heart, you sure are a bitch." But Lord Almighty, if she were in the Spade suit, one of them would either be dead already, or neither of them would get an ounce of sleep.
Reply
"And you sure as hell didn't seem to give a fuck ten minutes ago." She carefully gets to her feet - no, they're not wobbly, don't be ridiculous - and looks around for her shirt and bra.
Reply
"If I did, hellbitch, you'd never see it coming." Ethan snatched his jeans out of the haypile and shoved in one leg after the other, staggering to his feet to finish pulling them over his hips. God, he felt like shit.
Hunting around for his shirt, he spied it hanging somewhat haphazardly from the top of the stall. He snatched it down, shoving his arms in the sleeves. "Ten minutes ago, my options were either kill you or fuck you." Not bothering to button the shirt, he raked hands through his hair, dislodging bits of straw.
"Be glad I picked the latter."
Reply
"I don't have to be glad about anything. You couldn't lay a finger on me." She hikes up her jeans a little as she finally spies her shirt halfway across the stables. Why. "And it's not like sex with you is any great anyway. I've had better." What lies.
Reply
"Why don't you kick my ass all the way across the grounds, if you're that good? Maybe it's because you just can't keep your hands off me for that long." Now that mobile mouth slanted in an evilly knowing smirk. "...ain't that right, Blythe?"
Reply
She put a finger to her chin in mock-thought, tapping it a few times, then said sarcastically, "this is more fun."
And then she scoffed as he went on, rolling her eyes. "There's nothing about you that's remotely attractive, Ethan. You're just an okay fuck. On your good days. I can definitely keep my hands off of you. What am I doing right now?"
Reply
His expression became so saturnine. "Gonna have to get better at that fabricating, mi cara. If you really want to play with the big kids."
Reply
"You're such a bastard, Ethan. And for the record, I am a big kid."
Reply
Ethan snatched up his boots, swinging them at the stall door to jolt it open. He stepped out, saying over a shoulder, "Be sure to clean up the mess. Mel'll be pissed to see that tack all over the floor."
Reply
When he picked up his boots and headed towards the door, she lunged at him, hand clutching onto his shirt and tugging him back with surprising strength. "Like hell you're going to leave me to clean all of this shit up. You pick it up, you fucker."
Reply
Flush behind her, lips brushing her ear, breath stirring the tendrils of her hair, he snarled in a low growl, "Fuck. You, you bitch. You started this shit, I gave you what you wanted, end of story." He wedged a knee between her thighs, not about to give the first inch.
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Turning her head to one side, she glared straight into his eyes. Her lips were a bare few centimeters from his as she spoke. "I never wanted anything, you bastard. You're the one who thinks you're such a fucking superstar when you're not." She wriggled a little, trying to slip out of his tight grasp.
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"Give it up, Blythe," he breathed harshly, teeth grazing skin behind her ear, nose nuzzling with firm surety. "It's fucking addicting and you damned well know it."
He slithered to the other side, breath a little too ragged, voice a bit too harsh. "You want it...you want it just as much as I do, mi dolce cuore..."
Reply
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