Post by Eira on Sept 13, 2014 2:55:46 GMT -5
Flipping through her CD collection, Eira finds herself wondering why so many people were fond of mp3 players these days. Sure, they were useful, and convenient, but they lacked a certain je ne sais quoi... the enjoyment of actually being able to touch and feel individual objects for individual albums maybe?
Or maybe I’m just being nostalgic. I mean, why the hell ELSE would I have an Aqua CD In here? I mean, I was *cough* years old when that song was released, haven’t listened to it since *cough* school. THERE’S a band for Kelli Starr - it’s all dolls and electro and sex described with candy. I’d be worried about her being one of my partners for this upcoming match, but she DID manage to fight her way out of the Underground. Then again, it was her fault she was there in the first place. Throw a temper tantrum, get put in time out. Most of us learn that sometime BEFORE our twenties. But you know, it’s whatever I guess. So long as she helps me and doesn’t get lost making googly eyes at Nathan. There’s another thing, and my other partner for this match.
Nathan Saniti. I can’t think of any music I listened to that would fit the guy, but then again I wasn’t really into the obscure “calliope played by homicidal yet brightly colored mimes” genre. Why mimes? Well, why not? They’re a little over the top, a little ridiculous, and really disturbing. Kind of like he is. I think he’d creep me out a whole lot less if he didn’t have that whole “alternate reality self” thing going on like what happened before. I still wonder where the hell Q went to - I kinda thought the weirdo was getting all sweet on Kelli, but then he left. Then SHE got weirder, which I didn’t even think was possible.
THEN we’re facing the Black Hand. Otherwise known as the Three Guys Who Seem to Really Want to Kick My Ass. For whatever reason, I really can’t tell what. I mean, yeah, I beat Showtime recently, but after that Grimm beat ME, and Sadistic beat Murdoc, so wouldn’t that kind of even out whatever I did to piss them off in the first place? Don’t get me wrong - 3 on 1 doesn’t scare me in the real world. There are contingency plans and cover-ups I have available to me in the event that I’m outnumbered and need to kill several people in the time it takes them to draw their last breath to scream with. But in the ring, in front of cameras? Not so much, no. Gotta do it all on the up and up.
Shoving the giant CD binder away from her, she reaches over to the bedside table and grabs her iPod, rising smoothly to her feet as she goes. Wandering towards the master bathroom, she idly scrolls through her music selection, stripping clothing as she makes her way to the spacious shower.
CDs aside, some of my best music is on this thing, and I need the good stuff for what I have planned tonight.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Tribal drumbeats blend with throbbing bass and interwoven melodies, winding their way through the incense laden air to where Murdoc sits in his chair. A lesser man might consider the heavy framed, black leather monstrosity a throne; to Murdoc, however, it was just a chair. Long arms draped along the armrests, he reclines comfortably as he enjoys the show - which is indeed a show to be enjoyed.
Eira, clad only in body chains and the briefest of unmentionables, was treating him to one of the more erotic dance recitals he’d ever had the pleasure of attending. With movements like a high priestess of some long forgotten temple, twirling and gyrating, writhing and undulating for his personal enjoyment. Her pale, honey-colored skin lit with the warm oranges and golds of the flickering candles, the shadows a dark counterpoint on her moving form. A few steps closer and she was within reach, sliding forward and slipping into the chair above him.
Knees on either side of his powerfully muscled thighs, she arches herself into a backbend, affording him an impressive view of her nearly-nude form. The delicate chains draping across her bare breasts glitter subtly in the candlelight while the sheer, clinging material of her lingerie leaves not a single detail of her most intimate contours to the imagination. The low, rumbling growl of stirring desire all the invitation she needs, Eira lifts her body in a single sinuous wave; the very picture of a serpentine goddess of sensuality -
HELL.
- and abruptly drops her forehead onto his shoulder as a wave of vertigo knocks her momentum cold.
“Are you ALRIGHT?”
Hiding her mortified blush against his chest, she nods a little, blurting out a muffled reply.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Sometimes hormone shifts can cause weird changes in blood pressure with sudden movements.” Every muscle in her body tenses as she sits up, staring down at him in consternation. “Wait, I mean, I just -”
“Hormones?” His eyes widen. “You don’t mean...” Murdoc’s hand glides down her belly, resting possessively on the nearly imperceptible curve of her lower abdomen, the question clear in his eyes. Tugging at the soft swell of her lower lip with her teeth, she stares down at his hand, silence her only answer. Of all the ways to balls up a seduction...
“Amba?” Glancing back up at him, she can’t help but respond to the barest hint of vulnerability in his gaze, a truly alien display from PCW’s masked monster.
“I don’t know. It’s only been a few days, far too early to tell.”
“But sweetheart, your match. I can’t let you - “ Eira cuts him off with a kiss, already hearing his trademark 'this is not a polite suggestion’ tone coming to the fore.
“Far too early to tell. There’s really no way of knowing for sure outside of a blood test, and we don’t have time for that. If not, nothing to worry about, right?”
“Eira, if - “
Chuckling quietly, she placing an elegant finger against his lips. “If it is, it’s early enough that another few matches won’t do any harm. It’s not like I’m going to be in there alone against the Black Hand.”
“Can you really trust Nathan and Kelli? They’re hardly the most... stable people that PCW has to offer.”
“Maybe they aren’t, but they’re good people. I’ll admit, Nathan seems a bit changeable and capricious, but I don’t think Kelli is even capable of being mean. Angry, sure, but I’ve only really seen her do it in defense of her friends. Except that one time she lost her mind on Maize, but I don’t plan on slapping her across the face.” Eira offers Murdoc a conspiratorial smile at the antics of their fellow fed-mates, but he characteristically refuses to be distracted from the subject at hand.
“Eira, I don’t like it. This isn’t just some slap-dash match between a few disposable talents in the lower card. I refuse to grant them their pretentious name, but let’s go ahead and break this down. First there’s Showtime: decorated, tenured PCW veteran.”
“But I’ve BEATEN Showtime. More than once.”
“He also won’t be ALONE. Then we have Sadistic: you can argue all you want about how he’s just the Farmer’s brother, but all else aside he recently defeated ME. Then there’s Grimm, PCW’s International Champion, who you VERY recently lost to.”
“Lest we forget.” With the scowl on her face more a sulk than any proper display of bad temper, Murdoc threads a few fingers through her hair to tug her back down to him. Resting his forehead against hers, his eyes close, basking in the precious intimacy.
“I just don’t like the idea of you walking into that match if this is a serious possibility. It’s been more than once now that something bad very nearly happened to you at the hands of these men.”
“Beloved, please relax. Mother Nature is smarter than you think. If things could be so easily sabotaged, the human race would have died out centuries ago. Kelli and Nathan are going to be there, it’s not like I’ll be standing in the ring alone against the Black Hand.”
With a smooth, fluid motion, she slides further into his lap, his hands slipping down her back to rest low on the back of her hips. “I don’t want to talk about PCW anymore. Please, I’ve been so patient these last weeks -”
Lowering herself against him, she angles herself closer, color rising on her cheeks as his grip on her tightens. The last vestiges of concern in his eyes gives way to a familiar, predatory gleam as she presses hard against him, a pleading whimper escaping unbidden from her throat.
Ever the Gentleman, he assiduously grants her unspoken request.
Or maybe I’m just being nostalgic. I mean, why the hell ELSE would I have an Aqua CD In here? I mean, I was *cough* years old when that song was released, haven’t listened to it since *cough* school. THERE’S a band for Kelli Starr - it’s all dolls and electro and sex described with candy. I’d be worried about her being one of my partners for this upcoming match, but she DID manage to fight her way out of the Underground. Then again, it was her fault she was there in the first place. Throw a temper tantrum, get put in time out. Most of us learn that sometime BEFORE our twenties. But you know, it’s whatever I guess. So long as she helps me and doesn’t get lost making googly eyes at Nathan. There’s another thing, and my other partner for this match.
Nathan Saniti. I can’t think of any music I listened to that would fit the guy, but then again I wasn’t really into the obscure “calliope played by homicidal yet brightly colored mimes” genre. Why mimes? Well, why not? They’re a little over the top, a little ridiculous, and really disturbing. Kind of like he is. I think he’d creep me out a whole lot less if he didn’t have that whole “alternate reality self” thing going on like what happened before. I still wonder where the hell Q went to - I kinda thought the weirdo was getting all sweet on Kelli, but then he left. Then SHE got weirder, which I didn’t even think was possible.
THEN we’re facing the Black Hand. Otherwise known as the Three Guys Who Seem to Really Want to Kick My Ass. For whatever reason, I really can’t tell what. I mean, yeah, I beat Showtime recently, but after that Grimm beat ME, and Sadistic beat Murdoc, so wouldn’t that kind of even out whatever I did to piss them off in the first place? Don’t get me wrong - 3 on 1 doesn’t scare me in the real world. There are contingency plans and cover-ups I have available to me in the event that I’m outnumbered and need to kill several people in the time it takes them to draw their last breath to scream with. But in the ring, in front of cameras? Not so much, no. Gotta do it all on the up and up.
Shoving the giant CD binder away from her, she reaches over to the bedside table and grabs her iPod, rising smoothly to her feet as she goes. Wandering towards the master bathroom, she idly scrolls through her music selection, stripping clothing as she makes her way to the spacious shower.
CDs aside, some of my best music is on this thing, and I need the good stuff for what I have planned tonight.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Tribal drumbeats blend with throbbing bass and interwoven melodies, winding their way through the incense laden air to where Murdoc sits in his chair. A lesser man might consider the heavy framed, black leather monstrosity a throne; to Murdoc, however, it was just a chair. Long arms draped along the armrests, he reclines comfortably as he enjoys the show - which is indeed a show to be enjoyed.
Eira, clad only in body chains and the briefest of unmentionables, was treating him to one of the more erotic dance recitals he’d ever had the pleasure of attending. With movements like a high priestess of some long forgotten temple, twirling and gyrating, writhing and undulating for his personal enjoyment. Her pale, honey-colored skin lit with the warm oranges and golds of the flickering candles, the shadows a dark counterpoint on her moving form. A few steps closer and she was within reach, sliding forward and slipping into the chair above him.
Knees on either side of his powerfully muscled thighs, she arches herself into a backbend, affording him an impressive view of her nearly-nude form. The delicate chains draping across her bare breasts glitter subtly in the candlelight while the sheer, clinging material of her lingerie leaves not a single detail of her most intimate contours to the imagination. The low, rumbling growl of stirring desire all the invitation she needs, Eira lifts her body in a single sinuous wave; the very picture of a serpentine goddess of sensuality -
HELL.
- and abruptly drops her forehead onto his shoulder as a wave of vertigo knocks her momentum cold.
“Are you ALRIGHT?”
Hiding her mortified blush against his chest, she nods a little, blurting out a muffled reply.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Sometimes hormone shifts can cause weird changes in blood pressure with sudden movements.” Every muscle in her body tenses as she sits up, staring down at him in consternation. “Wait, I mean, I just -”
“Hormones?” His eyes widen. “You don’t mean...” Murdoc’s hand glides down her belly, resting possessively on the nearly imperceptible curve of her lower abdomen, the question clear in his eyes. Tugging at the soft swell of her lower lip with her teeth, she stares down at his hand, silence her only answer. Of all the ways to balls up a seduction...
“Amba?” Glancing back up at him, she can’t help but respond to the barest hint of vulnerability in his gaze, a truly alien display from PCW’s masked monster.
“I don’t know. It’s only been a few days, far too early to tell.”
“But sweetheart, your match. I can’t let you - “ Eira cuts him off with a kiss, already hearing his trademark 'this is not a polite suggestion’ tone coming to the fore.
“Far too early to tell. There’s really no way of knowing for sure outside of a blood test, and we don’t have time for that. If not, nothing to worry about, right?”
“Eira, if - “
Chuckling quietly, she placing an elegant finger against his lips. “If it is, it’s early enough that another few matches won’t do any harm. It’s not like I’m going to be in there alone against the Black Hand.”
“Can you really trust Nathan and Kelli? They’re hardly the most... stable people that PCW has to offer.”
“Maybe they aren’t, but they’re good people. I’ll admit, Nathan seems a bit changeable and capricious, but I don’t think Kelli is even capable of being mean. Angry, sure, but I’ve only really seen her do it in defense of her friends. Except that one time she lost her mind on Maize, but I don’t plan on slapping her across the face.” Eira offers Murdoc a conspiratorial smile at the antics of their fellow fed-mates, but he characteristically refuses to be distracted from the subject at hand.
“Eira, I don’t like it. This isn’t just some slap-dash match between a few disposable talents in the lower card. I refuse to grant them their pretentious name, but let’s go ahead and break this down. First there’s Showtime: decorated, tenured PCW veteran.”
“But I’ve BEATEN Showtime. More than once.”
“He also won’t be ALONE. Then we have Sadistic: you can argue all you want about how he’s just the Farmer’s brother, but all else aside he recently defeated ME. Then there’s Grimm, PCW’s International Champion, who you VERY recently lost to.”
“Lest we forget.” With the scowl on her face more a sulk than any proper display of bad temper, Murdoc threads a few fingers through her hair to tug her back down to him. Resting his forehead against hers, his eyes close, basking in the precious intimacy.
“I just don’t like the idea of you walking into that match if this is a serious possibility. It’s been more than once now that something bad very nearly happened to you at the hands of these men.”
“Beloved, please relax. Mother Nature is smarter than you think. If things could be so easily sabotaged, the human race would have died out centuries ago. Kelli and Nathan are going to be there, it’s not like I’ll be standing in the ring alone against the Black Hand.”
With a smooth, fluid motion, she slides further into his lap, his hands slipping down her back to rest low on the back of her hips. “I don’t want to talk about PCW anymore. Please, I’ve been so patient these last weeks -”
Lowering herself against him, she angles herself closer, color rising on her cheeks as his grip on her tightens. The last vestiges of concern in his eyes gives way to a familiar, predatory gleam as she presses hard against him, a pleading whimper escaping unbidden from her throat.
Ever the Gentleman, he assiduously grants her unspoken request.
