stuff us in boxes that's where you want us

cardboard is boring, we brought our matches - look how it burns

When the pair reentered the kitchen, she seemed to look at that home with new eyes. Perhaps it was the intention of it that made it feel different or was it simply twilight that saw to its transformation? The forbidden thoughts that danced within her mind, thoughts he so easily placed there. Her mind didn't linger on vampires, things of the past, or those far heavier topics that would surely threaten this rare peaceful embrace. But her mind seemed fixed on that renewed game. A game they seemed to continuously revisit, each time seemed to press ever further, building on the last. How quickly they indulged in it and yet how equally abruptly found its end. She had not expected.... Of all things cake.

Yet the baffling man seemed so content to indulge her in ingredients from his farm, to tempt her with rich flavour.... And while she could definitely eat... her appetites hardly were focused on that. His scent filled the kitchen, if it were not for the breeze to lessen it, she was not entirely certain what she would do. It was hard to focus on the creation of cake he seemed so suddenly fixated on. To watch the french man dance around the kitchen with such practiced ease like any ordinary day. It would seem all of it... was some misunderstanding. How she questioned her own sanity... Maybe she needed more sex. Maybe she was simply far from sated. How long had it been? Oh better not think of that. Perhaps it was his alluring scent that her feline seemed so smitten with, that had to be it. But his hands.. Fuck she was in trouble. Instead... he might as well have hummed a perfectly innocent french tune as he prepared dessert.

It was a rouse she had fallen for too easily. It was so drastic a shift to the one they held in that chamber of memories. She took that act like a cold shower, an awakening of her senses that were quickly coming back. Right? She hardly knew as she watched the fae move, with a purpose that was clearly not her.. The bafflement persisted as she leaned against the kitchen cabinetry, far enough away, arms folded loosely across her chest.

How that conversation shifted to milking cows. It seemed to chase those lustful thoughts further away, back into the recesses where they belonged, only for that sudden suggestion to confuse her more. What an oblivious creature he was, or at least he pretended to be. His expression regained an impishness that should have alerted her. Just as quickly as he had made her believe one thing, he spun around and abruptly changed course.

Oh, she knew what he could do with his hands should he desire it. How she refused to give him the satisfaction of.... Recalling that night again. Yet she was not one to not seize an opportunity for the banter to continue. "Hmm.. I think that depends. Are we speaking from my personal experience in the matter? Or the cows? I cannot speak for the cow... for me.. well...I think we will leave that to be determined." There it was... that flirtatious baiting, that seemed to get them into those predicaments in the first place. Would they ever learn? Her vivacious light purple eyes met his mesmerizing silvery ones as her own mischievous lips curled upwards, that look almost daring onto itself. She hardly moved, all the same as if unwilling to trust her own actions.

Matteo suddenly moved and she was acutely aware of him. Including the way he tasted the whipped cream. How she could hardly help but watch those hands. How she was certain he planned it that way all along. He drew those fingertips to his lips and in an instant she was nearly envious of.. He really did have nice lips. That taunt to taste it had her unfurling her arms, it was just a taste and he had spoken so.... Highly of it. The dark haired woman soon pushed away from the surface she had leaned upon unflinchingly. Perhaps that was where their comfort remained. Harmless flirtation. It was not a bad thing, far from it, she enjoyed his company, his wit.. Most of all... the strong willed woman found she trusted him. She had not yet met another to keep up with her, let alone set new levels in which to explore. One he intended to set now. In an instant the Frenchman disappeared only to reappear before her. There was no such thing as personal space, that moment of startled recognition barely allowed to settle before he kissed her. That kiss was eager and yet spoke of an unfurled forbidden passion. A promise if only she just reached for it. She tasted that cream and yet it was mixed with him, a perfect blend that sent her poor conflicted body to respond. How she could have sunk into that kiss, to allow her tongue find his own, to urge that press of his body against hers. Yet... that would be far too simple. It was hardly their way. He had set the field and she was willing to oblige.

The fearless woman pulled away from that all too alluring kiss, allowing her tongue to once more taste where he was. Her heart refused to relent its increasing beat even though she remained entirely controlled or at least the illusion of it. That utterance that she needed to be sure of that flavour. It took but one glance to plan her route, for that idea to form within her mind. She allowed her hands to wrap within his own, this time leading him to that bench, knowing if she hesitated too long her face might betray her. Her fingertips sunk into the cool velveteen cream, scooping far too much. His lips parted just before like she was to offer him another taste. How it was his time to fall into her trap, the woman refusing to be predictable in any sense. She drew her hand upwards as if she were to do just that when suddenly she smeared it along the side of his devastatingly handsome face and neck. Her laughter returned that admittance that she had him there, his eyes rolled as his own warm chuckle warmed her. That sound alone could devour you if you let it, there was a richness to it, much like that cream. "Defeated so easily? That is not the Matteo I know." She peered at him with a curious look, almost disappointed, her words dangerously close to playful chiding..

Did he truly think she merely wished to toy with him as he had done to her? Yet.. just as he was to speak she shifted just so, allowing her lips to find his own, to allow the softness of her own lips to savour the taste of his. They parted as if she wanted to deepen it as he responded in kind. His hand reached to settle at her waist, that action only pressed their bodies closer, her hand pressed upon his shoulder to lower him upon the bench she had positioned him at, soon to perch herself far too easily within his lap. That cold whipped cream was soon replaced by her lips and tongue, moving in perfect unison to draw patterns against his sensitive skin. After all, she had desired another taste of that whipped cream and she refused to waste any.

She felt the sensation of his arms to encase her to pull her body closer, a sensation she found she wanted. She heard that rewarding sound of his softened inhale, his composure a thread in which she all but tugged at. How far did it go? She hardly stopped, enjoying this new game and its taste he rewarded her with. How she wished to return to his lips and yet... wasn't it just a taste she was after?

She seemed smug like the cat that got the cream, diligent to even savour the cream that still lingered upon her own mouth she traced languorously with her own tongue.

That question sounded far more innocent than it truly was as she pulled away, still content to linger upon his lap. If only he knew the thoughts that dared to enter her mind. Her hand toyed with his skin so idly as she said it, enjoying the feel of it beneath her finger tips. How distracting his smiling lips were... now that she had tasted them she wanted more. His own finger tips seemed to lift the edges of her shirt so his hand to slip with ease beneath the forgiving fabric. The feel of his hands upon her altogether was a distracting thing as he claimed he hardly had his fill. She found herself anticipating that very answer. Just as his hands found her he leaned into for yet another press of their lips she wanted to linger within. That was until he lowered it. She had forgotten all about that stupid cake of trickery. Matteo didn't even bother with any more of that cream he had been so boastful about moments before, it had all been a rouse. Who got who first? What even was that score? It hardly seemed to matter now with his mouth on her.

It was instinctual, the way she tipped her head to offer him more of her neck just as she couldn't help her eyes that softly fluttered closed with parted lips, feeling the exploration of his hands along with those kisses. If not her heartbeat, it was her breath that hitched which gave her away, losing herself to the sensation of him. His touch was torture. The best kind. The response he elicited with mere touch alone. She felt consumed, her receptive body becoming a needing thing beneath his trained touch. It was like he knew her body better than she knew herself, to make her skin want to reach for him, to tingle when he found the right spots that were distinctly her own weaknesses. It was easy to bring forth the pleasure that could have easily remained dormant and yet impossible with his assault. How she hardly realized she altered her own body to arch and give him more access, that shirt riding higher. She wished there wasn't fabric in the way. That thought occurred in perfect time for his fingertips to brush the fabric of her bra. He pulled back and the raven-haired woman nearly cursed his name.

He would be her destruction if he stopped. His mouth curled into that impish gleam as those taunting french lyrics spoken so fluently, a pleasant sound that she hardly knew what he had meant. How maddening he was! Was it about cake? She looked confused as he had probably intended.. "Are we still going on about cake?" She questioned, curious as to what those words meant. How it was almost cruel to suddenly stop touching her now. At least she could begin to think and yet... how she didn't want to. It was the sudden wave of his hand that drew her curious eyes to it. In an instant... there was a release to her chest...and the absence of her bra had set her breasts free within her shirt. It was sudden, barely feeling anything. She all but gaped to see it delicately in his own hand and yet she could not deny how impressed at the finesse of such a smooth transition. Damn. She could hardly stop the sound of amusement, her own hand pressed to her chest as if unsure it was just an illusion. "That's quite the.... Magic trick. I have to give you points for ingenuity and some for showmanship." The Frenchman seemed all too fascinated by that very bra. What was he examining it for? She wondered.

He fortunately switched back to english only to puzzle over her choice in bras. What? She stole it from him to look at it in consideration. What did he think she would wear? Certainly not pink! Harley scoffed, tossing it behind him away from his scrutiny. "It matches my..."

Matteo stole her lower lips into his own, successfully silencing her, allowing the gentle brush of his teeth that drew across them in an all too appealing kiss that she could feel all the down to her toes. Her hand trailed so it found his back gently sliding upward to weave her fingertips within his own locks, seeking to deepen that kiss as his hand slid to cup her freed breast. It was almost a surprise to feel that intimate contact of his hand, his thumb expertly brushing across its sensitive peak which obediently hardened. How sensitive she was to his touches that she murmured a soft sound of desire, that was all but lost to his mouth. She was not used to this kind of patient treatment, with an equally gentle touch. All she had known was demanding. A possessive kind of sex that rarely remained gentle. She moved her hips to shift. Her skin was tingling, charged with excitement. Just... before he pulled away... of course he did. It was like he lived to torment her. It was hardly far enough where she couldn't follow. She was left with her breath deepening and her heartbeat taking on a frantic pace of its own. How aware she was of the heaviness of his desire within his thickly accented words, the compliment about her eyes when his hand was so clearly examining something else.

How little fun existed in the plain. There was fun to be had in the concealment of meaning behind those words. She leaned in, her positioned hand with his hair tugged to tilt his head to the side. Her lips seeked to find the crook of his neck, content to press that exact spot that had caused his breath to hitch before but on the opposite side. Curious if she could produce the same reaction.

Her kiss allowed her tongue to taste that flesh. Only him, no sweetness of sugar and cream. Perhaps she preferred it that way. She pulled back just so slightly, her lips moving against his skin. "With you.. An apple is never just an apple.. Or dessert is not just dessert.." She lowered that kiss, until she reached his collarbone having to nudge that shirt aside with her free hand. Her teeth skimmed that taut skin. How tempting it was nibble that skin, to bite it, it was near instinctive. The thought surprised her. But she had not been with a man since before she was turned. "And eyes are not merely eyes." Her hands fell to the hem of his shirt, her intention clear. After all. He had taken something from her, it was only fair. She pulled it upward, the act sadly would result in the absence of his touch. Yet she wanted to feel more of him. "Oh look.. An eye for an eye.. almost." There was a sarcastic cheekiness to the way that she said it as she pressed a finger to his chest that she allowed to feel..

Harley allowed the fabric to fall aimlessly before she lightly pushed him back as if to allow her fingertips to trail down and feel the taut muscles she had only been allowed to see before. The fae determined for her to look and not touch. She trailed downward, unable to feel any lower even though she toyed with the button upon his pants. There were limitations of the bench and this particular position and yet she was not complaining. "You have me craving cake now.." She uttered like a jest filled curse... That desire within her words was entirely clear. Apparently cake didn't have mean cake either. They could speak in riddles, but sometimes.... Actions spoke wonders. In a moment, she suddenly stood, sliding reluctantly off his lap to remove her own shirt. "Eyes are for gazing at are they not? Or am I getting things confused?" She peered at his own toned body, entirely distracted by him to notice the warm breeze that whispered across her now exposed creamy skin and the perky swell of her ample chest. Harley was nothing but willing to change the rules of this game if only to see his reaction. Yet nothing could deny that craving want for skin on skin.

Harley Westward