(Untitled)
THE (compulsory) SEX DICE GAME
For whatever reason, perhaps to spice up your love life, perhaps to spice up your day, or perhaps because you've been kidnapped or need to play it to save the world (we don't judge), you have before you a few sets of special dice, and an obligation to play the game out to some sort of finish.
Strap in and remember it's ( Read more... )
For whatever reason, perhaps to spice up your love life, perhaps to spice up your day, or perhaps because you've been kidnapped or need to play it to save the world (we don't judge), you have before you a few sets of special dice, and an obligation to play the game out to some sort of finish.
Strap in and remember it's ( Read more... )
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[Arianna had picked up a pair of dice, and upon examining their facets found they instead featured words -- specifically, body parts and actions. She had always been a bit out of touch, to put it nicely, and her face creased with obvious confusion.
She was new to camp, still a bit less than concerned about the whole end of the world thing, but she was a necromancer. It kind of came with the territory.
She was pretty, in a sort of "Addams' Family, like Wednesday all grown up" way, as Dean had off-handishly commented. She'd been directed toward Cas in her search for althea; an herb she needed for a spell. He didn't happen to have any, which had somehow led to her picking up a handful of dice from next to the Buddha statue.]
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[And better. Much, much better. He glances over from the drawer he'd been digging through, looking for her herb, and his lips twitch at her obvious confusion. He can remember being just as confused when he'd been introduced to them... As cliched and ridiculous as they are, he can't help but be a little bit fond of those dice-- they'd led to a few rather memorable nights.
Giving up the search on this side of the room- and his pride's a more than a little wounded at the fact that he doesn't have an herb when he's the resident herb guy- he makes his way over to the statue and another small box of miscellaneous things that might contain what she's looking for.
He glances over again; her attractiveness certainly hasn't escaped his notice, and he certainly wouldn't be against explaining how those dice work...]
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[Most magic might not work, but, that was because God had checked out and Hell was less inclined to offer up it's power these days. Death however, still walked the streets.
She scrutinized the dice in her hand at Cas' declaration that they were special. Sex wasn't something she really considered. She wasn't even making the connection just yet. Before the bloody end of the world she'd been something of a recluse -- attempted, at least, even if there was always one problem or another dragging her away from her books. Her mind wasn't exactly geared toward thinking of the connotations of the chosen action verbs in that way.
She rolled them, letting them clatter on the table with an idle flicker of long dark lashes over her eyes. She looked up from the dice and looked at Cas, as if expecting some sort of explanation of exactly how these dice were special. A few years before she would have stood nicely and waited to see if he could find the ( ... )
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[Necromancy isn't something he's particularly well acquainted with-- as an angel he'd done his share of resurrecting the dead, but that'd been different, at least in his eyes. Of all branches of magic, it's probably the type he's least familiar with; he'd been fine with that before, but now that their options are a bit limited, well... He almost wishes he knew more.
He blinks down at the dice and makes a face. 'Blow' and 'neck'- possibly the only combination involving 'neck' that does nothing for him. Really, 'bite', 'suck', 'kiss', 'tease', all fine, all winners but blow neck? It's always disappointment.
Not that it matters. He shakes his head slightly to derail that train of thought.]
Exactly how it sounds. Blow on your partner's neck.
[The lamest. He can see that she's still confused, and so he elaborates.]
It's a sex thing. You know. Foreplay. For those with little imagination... [A pause.] Or too much ( ... )
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[She said it deadpan, without a twitch of humor. It was supposed to be a joke, but she was really bad at them. She paused, listening to his explanation and clearly not putting it together at first. Blow on someone's neck? Why would you blow on someone's neck?
And then Cas spelled it out for her, and he couldn't help but flush a little. Arianna had rather pale skin, it was unfortunately obvious when she blushed, even a little bit. Sex was usually not her thing. It was so complicated, and once you took away her clothes, people tended to not find her quite so attractive.
But it was the end of the world. If there was a place and a time for learning to indulge...]
Well. I suppose I have something of a lack of imagination if you happen to have the alcohol.
[It was supposed to be flirtatious, but, it came out in that same frosty tenor. Arianna had never really done flirty before. But, it seemed like a perfect time to try. She'd heard his reputation, even if she'd ( ... )
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It's impossible to miss that flush; it's actually kind of endearing, and Cas can't help the grin that creeps across his lips.
He's also able to recognize flirting for what it is, frosty, awkward, or otherwise. He'd been there, obviously, and so the subtlety that comes with that awkwardness certainly isn't lost on him.]
I do, clearly it's meant to be. Any preference on the type of drink? Apparently I have no herbs but I know I have plenty of liquor.
[It'd been a good haul, last supply run, and so he's finding himself with more options than usual. Some of them are actually enjoyable, imagine that! He busies himself with grabbing a few glasses and bringing them over, more than curious to see where this goes.]
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[Her poisons run along the lines of Green Chartreuse, Absinthe, Creme de Menthe and Midori -- but mostly the first two. She has half a bottle of the former languishing amoung her things, but Arianna is quite certain that she'd lose her nerve if she left long enough to go get it. So, she'll gladly drink whatever he happens to have to offer.
She's never this forward, and she isn't exactly sure how this works, but do whatever the dice say sounds simple enough, even for someone who's as much of a failure at this sort of thing as she is. She'd always been the wallflower, always watched and never really understood. Then, she had had her books and her spells and the dead and an oversized family she wanted nothing to do with ( ... )
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In that case, I think it's an Absinthe kind of night. I might even have some sugar hanging around here somewhere...
[The benefits of Absinthe are twofold: one, it actually doesn't taste horrible; and two, they won't really need to drink all that much to reach a rather pleasant state of drunkenness. All good things, certainly ( ... )
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[Absinthe? Really? She hadn't thought she could get that lucky. She'd been counting mostly on some vaguely palatable breed of rum or flavored liqueur. Thankfulness for small miracles. She eyes the bottle, and while it might not be some secret stash that pre-dates the Absinthe Prohibition, it's definitely more than tolerable.
he can't help smiling a little awkwardly as she watches him try and dig up sugar and the best approximation of a slotted spoon they can manage. It might not be classy, but it will work, which is good enough for her.]
Classic, but with two sugars.
[She likes the traditional ritual, however she also happens to like it a bit sweeter than is exactly standard. But, Arianna has always liked her liquor so she can't taste the alcohol. Most things stronger than wine and she's searching for something sweet to hide it behind ( ... )
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Good taste, I like that.
[She indicates her preference and he gets to it, blowing through the ritual with a practiced ease that comes from the fact that Cas really, really enjoys this drink. He's also the type to prefer to mask the bitter taste of alcohol with better, sweeter things-- it's why he always has sugar in his cabin. Preparation, of sorts, in case he's lucky enough to stumble upon a drink to enjoy it with.
Tonight he has company. That's even better.]
Here you go.
[He hands Arianna her drink and raises his own glass. To good rolls of the dice! ...Or something like that. Taking a drink, he lets the flavour roll over his tongue... Yeah, this will definitely do.
He blinks down at the dice again. Nibble Lips... That'll do, too. He feels like they're glaring at him impatiently- calm down, dice, he knows he hasn't used you in a while.
...The fact that he's mentally talking to inanimate objects is a clear an indicator as any that a good night and some good company is way, way overdue.]
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[Arianna takes her glass when it's offered, flashing a slightly uneven smile at him. She raises her glass to his and takes a small sip of her drink that's rapidly followed by another much more sizable one. Her nerves likely shows in how quickly she finishes that first glass of absinthe, but she wants this, in some strange way, even unemotional creature that she tends to be ( ... )
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Definitely seems like it could be worse.
[He could have gotten something more like her initial roll, after all. She murmurs softly when his hands slide into her black hair, fingers curling against the side of her neck. And then their lips are pressing together again, and she leans into it this time, slowly at first. Tasting his lips, and then breathing his breath when he deepens the kiss. She seems to not know what to do with her hands at first, but after a few moments, she settles for resting them against his hips ( ... )
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He doesn't seem soulless. Not that she can tell like this for certain; the things she can tell in breath and blood are simple, general. It's not the more complete picture she could get by reaching inside him. Given how unpleasant that is, however, she thinks that would rather spoil the mood. And she likes the way that he touches her; the warmth of his hands that smooths over her shoulders and down her back, brushing against the laces of the corset she wears. His hands end up curling at the sharp jut of angular hipbones hidden in the folds of her full black skirt, and she leans into the contact ( ... )
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