#VERSE. ( pcuexpv2. annie. )

[fidelityfcrged]

Even expecting it, the rough spin elicited a shuddered gasp, hands flung out, one catching against the skittish holographic mirror display, the fingers of the other latching haphazardly onto the side of the sink. Hips drop at the pressure at the small of her back, the porcelain frigid against the bend of her hips and the front of her thighs slammed into it and she gasps with shock, and pleasure, and a little bit of pain, for good measure.

Her hand holds tighten, skittering for a better hold, her body bowing back as his fingers curl against her throat and she moans against the tightness of his hold, but not out of complaint. Lashes flutter closed, and she can hear the faint raspiness of her breath, can hear the taunt and satisfaction both, in his question and she can feel the color heat her cheeks with the same intensity that his touch ignited the rest of her body. "Yes-- " It's a gasp, a plea - a prayer.

Atta girl. He grins. If she's cut him up, he doesn't care. Barely feels the sting of pain; abuse litters his skin, and he's loved every single one no matter how he'd gotten it. Her claws? A needy kitten. Still, it draws a growl from him, and he's moving before she's done speaking. He spins her to face the sink, a palm on her lower back, flattened, urging her down. The other hooks into her panties, and he's almost tempted to tease her, make her beg, make her wait. She's lucky: he's already too hard now, and it takes half a practiced second to release his own pants.

Someone's knocking at the door. Cash tells them to fuck off in the same breath as he pushes in. A hiss sucked through his teeth. "God, you're so fuckin' wet." Fingers dig into her hip, wrap around her tender throat. His thumb shifts under her chin. He can feel the heartbeat pulsing, jumping as he moves again. "This what you want, Annie?"

[fidelityfcrged]

There's a sting of resentment at the taunt -- a rush of anger that adds itself to the mix of hormones and chemicals in her thoughts, but all that escapes at first is a hiss at the way he pulls her back, bending her further, and fingers clench against his shoulder, his waist. Lashes flutter, and colors sparkle behind her eyelids as pain and heat radiate from where teeth and tongue and lips drag and pinch against her throat and she can feel the shudder that traipses down her spine.

He made her weak, in a way that she hated, and reveled in. He didn't make her feel weak, or worthless, or incapable. He made her feel wanted, in a way she had never imagined possible. Fingers dragged, dug into the nape of his neck, without caring if she left scratches or dents in their wake. "Then stop talking so much and fucking do it already," Annie gasped.

A huff, brushing over her lips. "Good girl like you?" And he drags a palm over her as if to prove it, relishing the way her body reacts just to his hand over her skin. She thinks she's fooling everyone -- and maybe she is, but she ain't foolin' him. Annie is trying this life on for size, but sooner or later, she'll see it don't fit. He's still not sure if he's trying to open her eyes or keep her from seeing it.

"You'll want me to." A thumb tugs at the waistband of her pants, inching them a little lower. "When your legs are shaking, and it's too much? You'll be askin' me too." His hand grips her hair harder, baring more of her throat to him. He lets his mouth mark the skin; not gentle enough for kisses, but teeth and tongue, skin starting to bruise.

"And I'm not gonna listen."

[fidelityfcrged]

A crackle of fear, just a taste of it, and she savors it. More than she should. Part of her knows that. Part of her knows everything about this is dangerous. Maybe it's the same part of her that knows that's exactly why she's doing it. Exactly why she's here. The burn of adrenaline, and heat, and hunger, the warmth of the alcohol and the buzz of the stims, it's all artificial courage and freedom.

Her pulse is racing, and she wonders if he can feel it, in her wrist where his thumb pinches, if he can feel it where his lips tease against her throat. There's a low and needful whine, and her free hand clutches at his chest, digging into his shirt, into his shoulder, hips wriggling against his. "Who said anything about stopping you?" Annie manages, the words rough, and almost breathless.

Ah, too bad. Still, it's what he figured: she's not the type to let it happen out here where anyone can see. Not the type to be in the slums fucking him, either, but it ain't his place to say. He's a goddamn cautionary tale, and she's seen the warning label. Not his fault if she sticks around.

Doesn't stop him from having fun with it. The bathroom door shuts behind him, locked in place. He's still got her hand in his -- tugs her foward, hip to hip. Other hand moves to tangle in the hair at the nape of her slender neck. Threads it through his fingers. Pulls back.

"Bad move," he warns, words ghosting over her mouth. Keeps the distance with the hand in her hair. "Now who's gonna stop me from bending you over that sink?"

[fidelityfcrged]

Her breaths quicken, and shorten, as his hands roam and drag across the lines and curves he knows so well, and heat swells in her stomach and flushes her cheeks. A low whine, at his words, at the pull of his fingers against her, and there's ... a moment. A moment, where there is almost enough abandon. Almost enough loss of sense of self to not care. Heat floods her cheeks, at the thought of eyes on them, and she can feel the erratic, chaotic beating of her pulse.

She'd never won a game of chicken in her life. Her gaze ducks away from him, and she uses the excuse of downing the rest of her drink to extricate herself -- enough, at least, to catch him by the hand and pull him towards the back of the bar towards the restroom where they could continue this not conversation.

A low hum of unvoiced pleasure, relishing the line of pain. Hands, rough palmed, scrape roughly down her ribs, make well worn homes at her hips. “Nah, I can give it to you here.” Fingertips skim the line of skin showing just above her waist. Drift lower, grabbing her ass. “You wanna cause a scene?” And the dark eyed look he gives dares her to call his bluff. Think he won’t fuck her right here? Think again. “I’m game, love.”

[fidelityfcrged]

She tumbles into him without resistance, a bubble of a laugh as she leans into him, happy for the stability of his body against hers, though she wouldn't admit it in that moment if her life depended on it. Her head tilts, nose nuzzling into his jaw, his cheek, lips grazing along the hint of stubble, relishing in the warmth that coiled through her at his words. "You wanna show me a good time, baby?" A scrape of teeth, light, catching, pinching against his skin lightly. "What can you give me anywhere else, you can't give me here?"

"Buzzkill? Tch. Fuck off," he retorts, airily, no venom held in the words. Watches her for about half a second longer before tipping back the rest of his drink, hand free to reach out and catch hers. Finishes it too, before she can protest -- and snakes an arm around her waist, pulling her flush against his chest. Voice low, in her ear. "Want a good time? Let's get out of here."