[ It's one of these days. Too hot, too humid, too many customers at B-Sides being shitty, hours going by too slow. Baby feels like he's going to break out of his own skin, an itch he can't scratch underneath it, and it's too long when he finally makes it home.
He's hot, and cranky, and he's found out the best way to make himself feel better these days. It's not something he's proud of, and not something he's ever going to tell anyone, but damn if it doesn't do the trick.
He's barely home that he's got his phone out of his pocket and his jeans undone, hanging open over his hips as he thumbs over to the small folder he has of pictures of Isabelle. They're not even - they're friends and nothing more, but he isn't naive. He knows he has feelings for her but she's also - unattainable, too gorgeous and fierce and amazing.
And so she's become sort of a guilty secret. He opens a picture, breathing deeply as he walks over to his bedroom, falling over in bed as he lets his brain take him away - following the melodies of songs about love and sex burning him up, images of Izzy touching him, her hand instead of his. He shuts himself out from the world, losing himself to the music and the Izzy in his head. ]
( it's a rare night in which she doesn't find herself ridden with an edge to be relieved at sucker punch, where she's not wavering behind a bag suspended from the ceiling, knuckles wrapped and far too many things to purge with each sharpened breath and centered hit. she's softened, since she'd arrived, since she'd spent time with him, something she may otherwise feel need to tuck herself away from luring her toward it, instead.
she hadn't messaged him prior to her arrival, nor did she think anything of the few raps at his apartment door going unheard. it was few and far between that he wasn't raveled in some sort of music, earbuds in place which enabled the slightest startle whenever she'd gently attest for his attention. doors unlocked, however stepping inside greets her with no more than a crisp quiet, glancing about the entry before treading further.
there's enough of a comfort built between them that letting herself in wasn't entirely unwarranted, though perhaps it should have been, given the moment she's setting hand to his bedroom's doorframe to check inside, she's instantly stunned by how she finds him. it's wicked of her, unforgivable that she doesn't turn away, doesn't apologize, merely lets pink lips fall into the slightest of gapes as hues fix to the sight of that familiar hand working against his length, something on his screen delivering what he needed to find reprieve.
a soft exhalation, mind whirring, pulse a thunderous opponent in the cage of her chest as he notices her in return-- ) I— was going to call...
[ There are only a few times Baby can remember feeling this kind of mortification. Blurry memories when he was younger, but usually involving girls. The first time he had sex and came too fast. The first erection he's ever had in public.
But it's nothing like right now. It might be the very worst moment of his life, when he opens his eyes, barely undressed, a picture of Izzy open on his phone, his face flushed down to his neck. He stops moving, freezes up entirely, unable to even reach out and cover himself as he just stares at her, in the worst 'caught red-handed' situation he's ever been in.
He has no idea what to say that could make it better. He can't hear anything over the storm of his heartbeat, eyes focused on her lips to be able to read them and the disgust he's sure will come out. ]
( perhaps this should serve as any indication to leave him be, allow him back the privacy he rightfully owned given he was nestled into the confines of his own apartment— but she doesn't. doesn't turn in means of an opportunity for him to find decency, doesn't even deny herself the option to look. she knows the look of embarrassment when she sees it, but it's far from capturing her focus.
she could leave, still, and by the mixture of both panic and defeat marred along his features, she's sure there's some part of him that's desperate she does. instead, pearled teeth are left sinking into the plush of lower lip, his words muffled by the heat thrumming up her figure, ringing in her ears. isabelle was by no means a woman shy of her intent, nor was sex anything she was anything but ineffably comfortable with-- but it's a line they hadn't yet crossed, one she'd be bold to dip her toes into given the circumstances. and then she sees her picture on his screen.
well. she never claimed to be good. so rather than heeding his apology, than fluttering her gaze away, she's sauntering closer. slowly, each click of her heels thoughtful and decisive, a signature flush of her own rising to the apple of her cheeks. ) You don't have to stop.
[ His eyes are absolutely fixed on her, and he can see, enthralled, the heat rising up to her cheeks, the upturn of her lips and the way she looks right back at him. It's like his brain short-circuits when she talks, when she walks closer, his chest constricting.
Is he dreaming? Did he actually just fall asleep, and is now deep into a fantasy? It doesn't feel like it should be real, but everything is too vivid, from the goosebumps to the sensation of his hand still wrapped around his erection, which, albeit flagged, is still definitely happening. ]
W-what?
[ He pushes himself up to sit, his free hand propping him up as he looks up at her, the thrumming in his ears dissipating, leaving the usual ringing. ]
( Listen, they just appear and turn your world upside down. Clary knows, they did it to her too. )
so i was thinking i'd like to get a car here. because the public transport could do with some work and it'd be cool to have my own ride anyway, you know? but it's been a while since i drove anything and i know that's your thing so i was hoping you could help refresh my skill set a little? i'll buy you dinner.
you don't need to buy me anything It'd be a pleasure - you want to use my car? It's a bit of a beast, and can be temperamental. Might be easier with something a little less bottom heavy.
Got something for you, [ is the first thing he says as he hands Debbie an earbud, fingers poised on the wheel of his iPod. Today, the errand involves groceries shopping and Baby driving the shopping cart. There's a lot of pasta and salad in the cart, and Debbie's hair is down.
When she puts the earbud in, Baby clicks the song play, and waits for her to put her feet on the cart's axle before pushing the two of them down the coffee and tea aisle. ]
[ The air smells of wet cabbage, the aisles as borderline chilly and Baby is driving, one way or another. This is as close as it gets to heaven, Debora thinks. Cruising through the aisles with a song that has her name (how can he take such sharp turns with a squeaky wheel? She'll never understand), it's hard to think of anything negative, so she doesn't. ]
You're still winning the song game though.
[ She leans back against him. It's okay, she'll let him have that win. ]
[ He goes for a sharp corner into the canned goods, and stops in front of tomato sauce, hooking his chin on Debora's shoulder, mouthing along to the lyrics of the song as he tries to remember what they need. ]
I'm still going to keep on searching.
[ He's been working on finding any and every song featuring a Deb, Debbie, Debora, Deborah, or Debra in it, and has been pleased to find more than the two they'd started out with. With a crooked grin, he kisses her neck, and starts the cart again. They have to be good on canned tomato sauce. ]
Where do you want to drive to, when we're done here?
I found religion at the record store. I found heaven on your kitchen floor. You be stunning, baby, I'll be stunned. Keep glowing, I'll follow your explosions.
[ The store bell jingles, and Baby looks up from the racks of vinyls he's been kneeling in between. He has to lean to the side to see who walked in, and when he does, he stops for a moment, staring from his mostly-covered position.
The girl is beautiful, and she is lost in her own world, which gives her even more of an ethereal quality, an aura of music and aloofness. She reminds him of Debbie, of course, with the oversized headphones and the barely there humming under her breath, but at the same time, she's also a complete 180 from Debbie. Short and strong looking and dark haired and just. Beautiful, in a way that makes Baby want to reach out.
It takes him a while to take himself off this slight trance of his, and stand up, making himself seen and known in the small store. He takes too much space as is, but now it's even more evident, as he strides towards the girl, his badge shining in the sunlight coming from the windows, his name engraved in, Baby. ]
( the words are sharp, quick; the syllables practically crack against her teeth as she spits them out, the sound rich with barely repressed laughter at her own joke. her fingers never quite still, either. they dance along the edges of record covers, skimming over exposed words and pictures as she contemplates which one to pull. there's a pile haphazardly stacked on one end of the row, seemingly forgotten; she'll have to go back for it before she moves on to the next.
eventually, though, daisy reaches a point in her inner monologue where she can stop, allowing her to look up at the man attempting conversation. which, in all fairness, isn't the worst view in the world, even if it does mean she has to crane her neck a little to get in all of him. )
Hello yourself — ( a bit of a squint as daisy leans forward to catch a better view of his nametag, and a bark of a laugh when she does. ) — Baby.
[ She seems to still be lost in her own world, like he's not even there even though she's talked to him. Which is endearing, in a way, because Baby can relate, all too well. After all, he is still wearing earphones himself, Nirvana blaring in his ears - rock helps him when he's stacking in the store.
The way she says his name is mocking, a sharp edge to the name that makes him want to reach out and cover the nametag for a second. He frowns, before smoothing out his features to his customer services face. It's not the first time his name is being mocked by a customer. ]
It's just my name. Are you happy to browse, or would you like me to direct you towards a genre or an artist you may be looking for?
( college. it's not the thing she wants to do, but it's a thing she does nonetheless, funded by guilt-ridden parents with more money than sense. for a moment, she considers ucla — something close to home, familiar — but the allure of anonymity draws her to the east coast instead.
why she chooses athens is a mystery. (trini goes to savannah for graphic design. the two cities aren't that far apart. far from home doesn't have to mean totally alone.)
today, the campus is empty, most of the school gone on the last week of winter break; she's opted to ride the train an hour south into the busier streets of atlanta, where she can wander and shop until her feet give in.
or, at the very least, until she's in desperate need of caffeine. like she is now, standing in line at a coffee shop downtown, listening to the bass pumping from someone else's headphones. she's not sure whose, but at least it makes a good beat. something to dance to while she waits. )
[ Baby is late, which is something he usually never is. It makes his shoulders tense, his fingers beat in time with the song he's playing, drowning out everything else in the coffee shop with its angry political message. His head bob with the beat, as he checks his watch once more.
Might as well cancel altogether. He's not going to make up the time, now, and the good thing about not being indebted to criminals anymore - he can actually reschedule things without worrying for his - or his loved ones - lives. He's just getting his phone out to send a message when he feels a rush of air at his back and turns his head, raising an eyebrow at the girl behind him, who's looking to be swaying to music - without wearing any kind of earphones. ]
Huh.
[ He follows the noise with a chuckle, even if can barely hear himself over the music blaring in his ears, spewing about not doing what he's told. And maybe the fact that his music is so loud is why... after a second, he pulls out one of his earbuds, with a question on his features. ]
(she's scrolling through something on her phone — a feed of images, some of which she taps at with her fingertips to save for later, while others she just skims past — so she doesn't notice the stranger's appraisal of her single-attendance dance party right away. it takes a moment. more specifically, it takes the cough of the girl behind her in line, a pointed noise intended to draw kimberly's attention away from the world and social media and up into reality, in the hopes that she might notice the large expanse of open space that has so far gone unfilled. it seems neither of them have managed to follow the queue very well.
with a bit of a wry smile, kimberly steps forward, closing in on the man's personal space; when he extends the earbud, she accepts with little hesitation. ) Yeah, okay, ( and she takes it, just like that, between slim fingers that make easy work of nestling the white piece into her ear. the short cord means they're now connected in the queue, two people sharing a small footprint of space in the shop as they wait for their turn to order.
the song is loud, of course, but she's used to that. music blares in gyms, and she's never been one to listen to things quietly when she does put in her own earbuds. better to have the music loud to drown out the sounds of her shoes hitting pavement on a run, or to ignore the sounds of interrupting strangers on her train ride into the city. )
I like this, ( she murmurs; she realizes as soon as she does that he can't possibly hear her over the track. a tug at the connecting cord, and when he pulls his own out again, she repeats, ) I like this. It's good.
[ She repeats herself, probably thinking he can't hear her over the loud bass, but he doesn't need to. Most of the time, he doesn't hear anything, anyway, and that is how he prefers to live his life. Better than the constant ringing that drives him to insanity when he's not listening to anything.
The song switches, from Killing In The Name Of to Guerilla Radio. Baby just smiles, looking at the girl. Man, she's tiny. ]
Yeah? [ He nods. ] Rage Against The Machine. Still not sure that rock has ever got better than it was in the 90's.
[ Sad, that the band fell apart as badly as it did. ]
[ Baby's not exactly fond of surprises himself. When he was younger, he found that it was too much, too startling for him when he couldn't always say where the noises were coming from. He preferred plans, executed them to the letter, and while he could always deal with surprises on the road, he didn't enjoy them. Always better when things went according to plan.
But when he was the one planning the surprise, well. That was another story. And this surprise, he'd been planning for a couple of days - he wasn't supposed to be able to get back to New York for another week, but his job had finished early. It only took a bit of cajoling Alec to be let in the Institute without Clary knowing, and...
Here he is, walking into her room to surprise her. He closes the door behind him, careful, slow, not wanting to wake her up, but when he turns towards her bed - ]
Oh.
[ Clary's not sleeping. Her eyes are half open, her legs moving under the sheet she's half-covered with, her breasts exposed as she squirms. ]
Well, I wanted to surprise you, but turns out I'm the one - Clary.
( She doesn't hear him come in. Maybe that's a bad thing, considering she's a Shadowhunter and all, but she can be forgiven for being more occupied with other things. She's been frustrated lately, bickering with Jace over missions, the Clave breathing stubbornly down her neck, Baby being out of state and therefore far too far away. Tonight had been something of a godsend, Alec giving her the night off and Clary having nothing to do but take a long bath and then curl up under the sheets. She'd figured she might read, or sketch, but after an hour of trying to be distracted by something she'd just given up.
It had been easy to strip her pajamas off, to give into the buzzing under her skin. It was quiet anyway, and she wasn't needed anywhere. And so she'd touched herself, slowly, not wanting to rush when she so rarely got time to herself. Her thoughts had turned to Baby so easily, that when he first speaks she thinks it's part of her imagination. But then he continues and Clary goes still, heat flaring into her face. )
Baby.
( She sits up quickly, sheets pooling around her waist, hair a mess. Her hands move to steady herself on the mattress, fingers glistening wetly. )
What --. I thought you weren't back until next week.
( But there he is. The flush deepens a little, this time losing the embarrassed edge to turn to something more heated. She moves so that her hair falls over her back, smirk tugging up her mouth. ) This is definitely the most vivid fantasy I've ever had.
[ His tone is soft, his voice low and affected as his eyes take in the flush in her cheeks, the look in her eyes, the way her fingers grip the sheets. How she's not trying to cover herself up, and how her chest is heaving a little with each breath, how hard her nipples are. He takes a step forward, almost involuntarily, his whole body yearning for hers as he tries to find words, and fails mildly for a moment.
He does manage, after taking another step, and another, eyes completely fixed on Clary, and how incredible she looks, and how much he wants to touch her. ]
Not a fantasy. You can check for yourself, I'm here.
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killertrack) wrote2017-09-01 07:34 pm
>> Izzy; NSFW
He's hot, and cranky, and he's found out the best way to make himself feel better these days. It's not something he's proud of, and not something he's ever going to tell anyone, but damn if it doesn't do the trick.
He's barely home that he's got his phone out of his pocket and his jeans undone, hanging open over his hips as he thumbs over to the small folder he has of pictures of Isabelle. They're not even - they're friends and nothing more, but he isn't naive. He knows he has feelings for her but she's also - unattainable, too gorgeous and fierce and amazing.
And so she's become sort of a guilty secret. He opens a picture, breathing deeply as he walks over to his bedroom, falling over in bed as he lets his brain take him away - following the melodies of songs about love and sex burning him up, images of Izzy touching him, her hand instead of his. He shuts himself out from the world, losing himself to the music and the Izzy in his head. ]
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she hadn't messaged him prior to her arrival, nor did she think anything of the few raps at his apartment door going unheard. it was few and far between that he wasn't raveled in some sort of music, earbuds in place which enabled the slightest startle whenever she'd gently attest for his attention. doors unlocked, however stepping inside greets her with no more than a crisp quiet, glancing about the entry before treading further.
there's enough of a comfort built between them that letting herself in wasn't entirely unwarranted, though perhaps it should have been, given the moment she's setting hand to his bedroom's doorframe to check inside, she's instantly stunned by how she finds him. it's wicked of her, unforgivable that she doesn't turn away, doesn't apologize, merely lets pink lips fall into the slightest of gapes as hues fix to the sight of that familiar hand working against his length, something on his screen delivering what he needed to find reprieve.
a soft exhalation, mind whirring, pulse a thunderous opponent in the cage of her chest as he notices her in return-- ) I— was going to call...
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But it's nothing like right now. It might be the very worst moment of his life, when he opens his eyes, barely undressed, a picture of Izzy open on his phone, his face flushed down to his neck. He stops moving, freezes up entirely, unable to even reach out and cover himself as he just stares at her, in the worst 'caught red-handed' situation he's ever been in.
He has no idea what to say that could make it better. He can't hear anything over the storm of his heartbeat, eyes focused on her lips to be able to read them and the disgust he's sure will come out. ]
I - shit, Izzy, I'm sorry -
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she could leave, still, and by the mixture of both panic and defeat marred along his features, she's sure there's some part of him that's desperate she does. instead, pearled teeth are left sinking into the plush of lower lip, his words muffled by the heat thrumming up her figure, ringing in her ears. isabelle was by no means a woman shy of her intent, nor was sex anything she was anything but ineffably comfortable with-- but it's a line they hadn't yet crossed, one she'd be bold to dip her toes into given the circumstances. and then she sees her picture on his screen.
well. she never claimed to be good. so rather than heeding his apology, than fluttering her gaze away, she's sauntering closer. slowly, each click of her heels thoughtful and decisive, a signature flush of her own rising to the apple of her cheeks. ) You don't have to stop.
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Is he dreaming? Did he actually just fall asleep, and is now deep into a fantasy?
It doesn't feel like it should be real, but everything is too vivid, from the goosebumps to the sensation of his hand still wrapped around his erection, which,
albeit flagged, is still definitely happening. ]
W-what?
[ He pushes himself up to sit, his free hand propping him up as he looks up at her, the thrumming in his ears dissipating, leaving the usual ringing. ]
Izzy, what are you doing?
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text |
( Hey Baby, just so you know Shadowhunters are rude af and just appear to ask questions without context. )
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Looks like I do now. What have you got in mind?
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so i was thinking i'd like to get a car here.
because the public transport could do with some work and it'd be cool to have my own ride anyway, you know?
but it's been a while since i drove anything and i know that's your thing so i was hoping you could help refresh my skill set a little?
i'll buy you dinner.
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It'd be a pleasure - you want to use my car? It's a bit of a beast, and can be temperamental. Might be easier with something a little less bottom heavy.
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[[ yep, that's the prompt ]]
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When she puts the earbud in, Baby clicks the song play, and waits for her to put her feet on the cart's axle before pushing the two of them down the coffee and tea aisle. ]
Found it in one I don't use that much.
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You're still winning the song game though.
[ She leans back against him. It's okay, she'll let him have that win. ]
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I'm still going to keep on searching.
[ He's been working on finding any and every song featuring a Deb, Debbie, Debora, Deborah, or Debra in it, and has been pleased to find more than the two they'd started out with. With a crooked grin, he kisses her neck, and starts the cart again. They have to be good on canned tomato sauce. ]
Where do you want to drive to, when we're done here?
[ On the road, whenever they can. ]
▸ surprise.
I found religion at the record store.
I found heaven on your kitchen floor.
You be stunning, baby, I'll be stunned.
Keep glowing, I'll follow your explosions.
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The girl is beautiful, and she is lost in her own world, which gives her even more of an ethereal quality, an aura of music and aloofness. She reminds him of Debbie, of course, with the oversized headphones and the barely there humming under her breath, but at the same time, she's also a complete 180 from Debbie. Short and strong looking and dark haired and just. Beautiful, in a way that makes Baby want to reach out.
It takes him a while to take himself off this slight trance of his, and stand up, making himself seen and known in the small store. He takes too much space as is, but now it's even more evident, as he strides towards the girl, his badge shining in the sunlight coming from the windows, his name engraved in, Baby. ]
Hello! Do you need any help?
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( the words are sharp, quick; the syllables practically crack against her teeth as she spits them out, the sound rich with barely repressed laughter at her own joke. her fingers never quite still, either. they dance along the edges of record covers, skimming over exposed words and pictures as she contemplates which one to pull. there's a pile haphazardly stacked on one end of the row, seemingly forgotten; she'll have to go back for it before she moves on to the next.
eventually, though, daisy reaches a point in her inner monologue where she can stop, allowing her to look up at the man attempting conversation. which, in all fairness, isn't the worst view in the world, even if it does mean she has to crane her neck a little to get in all of him. )
Hello yourself — ( a bit of a squint as daisy leans forward to catch a better view of his nametag, and a bark of a laugh when she does. ) — Baby.
Let me guess: Killer was already taken?
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[ She seems to still be lost in her own world, like he's not even there even though she's talked to him. Which is endearing, in a way, because Baby can relate, all too well. After all, he is still wearing earphones himself, Nirvana blaring in his ears - rock helps him when he's stacking in the store.
The way she says his name is mocking, a sharp edge to the name that makes him want to reach out and cover the nametag for a second. He frowns, before smoothing out his features to his customer services face. It's not the first time his name is being mocked by a customer. ]
It's just my name. Are you happy to browse, or would you like me to direct you towards a genre or an artist you may be looking for?
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what if. an au.
why she chooses athens is a mystery. (trini goes to savannah for graphic design. the two cities aren't that far apart. far from home doesn't have to mean totally alone.)
today, the campus is empty, most of the school gone on the last week of winter break; she's opted to ride the train an hour south into the busier streets of atlanta, where she can wander and shop until her feet give in.
or, at the very least, until she's in desperate need of caffeine. like she is now, standing in line at a coffee shop downtown, listening to the bass pumping from someone else's headphones. she's not sure whose, but at least it makes a good beat. something to dance to while she waits. )
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Might as well cancel altogether. He's not going to make up the time, now, and the good thing about not being indebted to criminals anymore - he can actually reschedule things without worrying for his - or his loved ones - lives. He's just getting his phone out to send a message when he feels a rush of air at his back and turns his head, raising an eyebrow at the girl behind him, who's looking to be swaying to music - without wearing any kind of earphones. ]
Huh.
[ He follows the noise with a chuckle, even if can barely hear himself over the music blaring in his ears, spewing about not doing what he's told. And maybe the fact that his music is so loud is why... after a second, he pulls out one of his earbuds, with a question on his features. ]
Wanna share?
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with a bit of a wry smile, kimberly steps forward, closing in on the man's personal space; when he extends the earbud, she accepts with little hesitation. ) Yeah, okay, ( and she takes it, just like that, between slim fingers that make easy work of nestling the white piece into her ear. the short cord means they're now connected in the queue, two people sharing a small footprint of space in the shop as they wait for their turn to order.
the song is loud, of course, but she's used to that. music blares in gyms, and she's never been one to listen to things quietly when she does put in her own earbuds. better to have the music loud to drown out the sounds of her shoes hitting pavement on a run, or to ignore the sounds of interrupting strangers on her train ride into the city. )
I like this, ( she murmurs; she realizes as soon as she does that he can't possibly hear her over the track. a tug at the connecting cord, and when he pulls his own out again, she repeats, ) I like this. It's good.
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The song switches, from Killing In The Name Of to Guerilla Radio. Baby just smiles, looking at the girl. Man, she's tiny. ]
Yeah? [ He nods. ] Rage Against The Machine. Still not sure that rock has ever got better than it was in the 90's.
[ Sad, that the band fell apart as badly as it did. ]
I definitely recommend when you're feeling angry.
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i. ii. iii.
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But when he was the one planning the surprise, well. That was another story. And this surprise, he'd been planning for a couple of days - he wasn't supposed to be able to get back to New York for another week, but his job had finished early. It only took a bit of cajoling Alec to be let in the Institute without Clary knowing, and...
Here he is, walking into her room to surprise her. He closes the door behind him, careful, slow, not wanting to wake her up, but when he turns towards her bed - ]
Oh.
[ Clary's not sleeping. Her eyes are half open, her legs moving under the sheet she's half-covered with, her breasts exposed as she squirms. ]
Well, I wanted to surprise you, but turns out I'm the one - Clary.
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It had been easy to strip her pajamas off, to give into the buzzing under her skin. It was quiet anyway, and she wasn't needed anywhere. And so she'd touched herself, slowly, not wanting to rush when she so rarely got time to herself. Her thoughts had turned to Baby so easily, that when he first speaks she thinks it's part of her imagination. But then he continues and Clary goes still, heat flaring into her face. )
Baby.
( She sits up quickly, sheets pooling around her waist, hair a mess. Her hands move to steady herself on the mattress, fingers glistening wetly. )
What --. I thought you weren't back until next week.
( But there he is. The flush deepens a little, this time losing the embarrassed edge to turn to something more heated. She moves so that her hair falls over her back, smirk tugging up her mouth. ) This is definitely the most vivid fantasy I've ever had.
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[ His tone is soft, his voice low and affected as his eyes take in the flush in her cheeks, the look in her eyes, the way her fingers grip the sheets. How she's not trying to cover herself up, and how her chest is heaving a little with each breath, how hard her nipples are. He takes a step forward, almost involuntarily, his whole body yearning for hers as he tries to find words, and fails mildly for a moment.
He does manage, after taking another step, and another, eyes completely fixed on Clary, and how incredible she looks, and how much he wants to touch her. ]
Not a fantasy. You can check for yourself, I'm here.
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