remiwarner

[remiwarner]

"Happy to get ya some gossip," Remi commented sarcastically, eyes tracking the other woman as she headed further into the club.

"O-kay," She dragged the word out, brows rising with approval. "That's the type of juicy stuff I like to hear." One of her girls passed behind them, and Iman leaned over her shoulder, grabbing the blonde's attention.

"Can you grab Mr. Warner's order in the back for me, please? Should be packaged already. Thank you!"

[remiwarner]

"Fancy kinda chick."

"Independent. Educated. Kinda repressed."

Imani sent a quick message from her phone, then redirected her attention to him, her friendly smile back in place. "So, spill. What kinda girl's got you stockin' up?"

[remiwarner]

"Well, I need the blockers. 'N like… twenty? Of those real… feel… deal… whatever-the-fucks."

"What does the reason matter, handsome?"

"Sentiment stands."

[remiwarner]

"Only sayin' that 'cause you're makin' money off me."

"A great tragedy averted."

[remiwarner]

"Please."

"No need for that sardonic smirk of yours!" Imani swatted at him, grinning to show she wasn't being serious. She'd get a genuine smile out of him soon.

"I missed you! You had me worrying you'd gone celibate or something!"

[remiwarner]

"I am."

"And I'll stay happy," she turned to face him properly.

"As long as you're here for me."

[remiwarner]

"Imani." Remi approached the woman, glancing around for some explanation as to why she was hanging around near the entrance.

"Happiest anyone's been ta see me in a while."

"As I live and breathe." Imani looked over her shoulder at a tall, dark-haired figure she'd spotted emerging from the gloom of the hallway into the light, a pink beam dancing across his face and casting odd shadows as he approached.

"Remi Warner? In my little corner of Battery?" He looked rougher around the edges than he had when she'd last seen him; rumor mill said he was single now, and his throat was covered in significantly more ink than she remembered. Must've been one hurricane of a breakup.

[remiwarner]

L I F E‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ S U P P O R T

Since moving out — which had been more sleeping in another apartment than any actual moving — Remi had not been back to his old place. Their… old place. He'd never intended to go back, but tonight — now — his key turned in the door just like it had for… if it hadn't been years then it'd sure as fuck felt like it. What did he know? He was still paying the fucking rent, because someone needed to come clean the place out, and he wasn't about to let the building's management do it, but it sure as fuck wasn't going to be him.

The lights were off, and the ghost-coat of dust everywhere made the room look like some fucked up museum, or like nothing physical at all but instead one of the dark, empty spaces in his head. Remi felt lazily along the wall for the switch until his fingers found it and he could actually see, which he regretted immediately because the light stung his eyes and because for some inexplicable reason he felt like throwing up a little bit. Everything was still where she'd left it. And then where he'd left it. Everything that didn't fit in a pair of suitcases and a fucking car, and it was almost funny. Though he fumbled a little, he was smiling as he pulled his phone out, squinting at the screen as he looked up the building manager and wrote him a text: srry fr the noise cmplaints — accompanied by a sum of money that was verging on inordinate. He didn't wait for a reply; it was four in the morning anyway, probably the guy was sleeping.

Remi continued his slow shuffle further into the apartment, attention drawn to the wall his hand had resumed its mindless drag across; pictures, mirrors, fucking mirrors everywhere— and damn, but he looked like shit. A flicker of a thought, gone (pale, hollow-eyed, dark ink he wasn't used to on both sides of his throat) as the mirror crashed to the floor along with the other frames, getting in his way so he had to step on them to move on. It crunched. Why didn't they have a fireplace? Completely unnecessary unless you wanted to burn something, which he kind of did, and he didn't think the building manager was gonna let that slide, no matter how much he paid him. Oh well. He could burn a cigarette. And he did, using one hand to smoke while the other flopped onto every surface he passed by and swept everything on top of it to the floor in his wake. The big screen in the living room was pretty easy to tip over, and it ripped a bunch of plugs out of the wall as it fell and yanked the other shit that was plugged into it along. Doing the work for him, really, which was good because he didn't have the fucking energy to start throwing shit.

Deeper in, toys already on the floor stayed ignored, but he'd lit another cigarette, and everything in the room he'd just entered was an ashtray. Shoes, bags, ridiculously expensive stupid-ass fucking dresses. He made scorch marks in them to match the ones on his arm and relit his cigarette, not caring that he kept putting it out because he had more cigarettes, and because it was fucking cathartic, seeing the pristine fabric marred with black, crumbling holes. Tugging them off the hangers and dropping them on the floor wasn't bad, either. Another ashtray. Jewelry box. Empty. He flicked ash into it, eyes darting without his instruction or intention to the high shelves across from him. Also empty. A fresh surge of hatred flared like a lick of flame somewhere between his ribs. He would've liked to have thrown those boxes. He would've liked to have opened them and thrown — one by one — every single piece of their contents at her fucking head. His hand was gripping the intricate silver jewelry box, knuckles whitening around it, and he caught a glimpse of himself again in the vanity, fucking mirrors, the box smashing into the glass a split second later, shattering it, then clattering off the makeup on the desk before landing with a thunk on the floor among lipstick tubes and brushes and whatever the fuck else.

Drawing a breath, Remi crushed his final cigarette out on a wig perched on a plastic head and went back the way he came. He pulled his hood back up as he let himself out, but thankfully nobody was rubbernecking in the hallway. If they had heard him, these upstanding-ass neighbors were probably too scared to go near their doors; if anything, they were looking at him through their hallway cameras. Not that they'd recognize him. Honey, look! Some criminal just came out of the Warners' apartment! That did make him laugh, a quiet snort somewhere at the back of his throat. He wondered if he'd get a call about it later. Hopefully he'd paid the building manager enough to come up with something clever on his behalf — and if not, well… what were a few more unanswered calls?

[remiwarner]

H O U R   A F T E R   M I D N I G H T

Delilah Khatri​.

      “I don’t want—” She paused, reassessing her words, “I think this is good as a casual thing, right? But… I also think if you want to sleep here, I wouldn’t mind. I just think…” Delilah pressed her lips together as they crawled into a slow smile, “I think too much. But yes. All of that.”

    She was turned over on her stomach now, propping her head up with her hand on her chin, watching Remi smoke with a blissful grin. “You’re fun.” And hot. He was really hot — especially now that she knew what he could do. She wanted water, but her muscles felt like they were made of jelly, and she simply wasn’t ready to move. In fact, she was almost tempted to ask to try the cigarette again, except she knew the result would be the same, no matter how good the sex. 

     A casual thing. Meaning she wanted to do it again. Remi smiled, dipping his head in a short nod as she spoke to show his assent. Staying over, though… He took a final drag, dropping the filter into the glass he’d brought from the kitchen, tongue darting out to wet his lips before he answered.    “So’re you. ‘N that’s why I’m’onna head out — I ain’t nearly as cute in the mornin’.”

     Not only would he be hungover and needing a fix whenever they woke up, but he didn’t trust himself in his sleep. Years of unconscious habit would probably have him spooning her the second he slipped under, or he’d do something else dumb like reflexively tell her he loved her when he was half asleep and she made some random noise or sighed. Then she’d either think he was batshit crazy, or she’d know that he’d lied about the ring. Maybe both.      Dragging himself out of bed, Remi started gathering his clothes, pulling them on as he found them, only stopping in the doorway to take in the sight of her sprawled out on the sheets one more time.    “I’ll see ya,” he promised, lips curving briefly before he ducked out, closing the door behind him.

[remiwarner]

H O U R   A F T E R   M I D N I G H T

Delilah Khatri​.

     His kisses were electric, pleasurable shockwaves radiating from every place his lips touched. She kept up her pace and position, finding it to be just right, in that she could already feel that volcano bubbling up, almost ready to erupt. A sharp inhale followed when he gently bit her earlobe, her grip on him tightening as the action sent more shivers down her spine. His sigh, the heat, the way it traveled along her skin, reassuring her he was enjoying it just as much as she was. 

     Then she slowed, making her thrusts deeper as she felt euphoria send her brain through a whirlwind, her head tipping back as she released a loud moan, followed by softer ones, a few whimpers. Their bodies were tacky with sweat, but she still didn’t want to separate, because this was one of the very best nights — best experiences — she ever had. 

     Even though he hadn’t done much of the work, when they both laid back down onto the mattress, Remi found he was still a little out of breath. His nerves tingled pleasantly, the muscles in his shoulders seeming to melt out of the knots they’d been tied into for weeks. Months, maybe. The only thing he was missing was another hit, but another cigarette kept his mind off it, along with Delilah, who looked like she’d worked out some tension herself. Even with her hair tousled and her makeup smudged a little, she was pretty — and her smile drew one out in him as well.    “Think I been slackin’ on cardio,” he joked, bringing the cigarette to his lips for a slow drag that he exhaled toward the ceiling. The smile lingered. “Fuckin’ wore me out.”

[remiwarner]

H O U R   A F T E R   M I D N I G H T

Delilah Khatri​.

     Everything had been so fun; their escapades were continuously punctuated by breathy fits of laughter between moans and sighs, and Delilah thought it was quite possible this was one of the best nights she’d ever had. She’d never felt so connected to someone outside of her family, which formed a certain discomfort in her chest that she chose to ignore for more pleasant sensations. Like this. 

     Once he had her situated in his lap, she kissed him back, slowly, sensually, allowing her hips to follow suit as she found her rhythm. In this position, he felt deeper, and she couldn’t contain the gasps that she breathed into their kiss with every roll of her hips. Before long, more passion took over, her kisses becoming hungrier as she picked up her pace a bit, her arms coiling around his shoulders to tangle her fingers in his hair. 

     With Delilah on top, Remi’s job was reduced to pretty much just enjoying it, and he was — utilizing the way his hands had free rein, and the way being in his lap gave her some height. He kissed her neck, the underside of her jaw, hands gliding up her thighs and over her ass for a squeeze as he helped her move, then along her waist before wrapping around her, pulling her closer as his kisses traveled up underneath her ear. His teeth closed softly on her earlobe for a moment, a quiet pant of pleasure escaping him that she probably wouldn’t have heard otherwise.

[remiwarner]

H O U R   A F T E R   M I D N I G H T

Delilah Khatri​.

     She couldn’t help laughing with him, a humored squeal escaping when he’d flipped her onto her stomach, because he was being ridiculous, but in the best kind of way; where she didn’t feel embarrassed or ashamed of her questions, or the fact that she was completely naked, vulnerable, and at his mercy. Delilah draped an arm over his shoulder when he’d settled into the final position, using the other to reach down between them to touch him with anticipation. “How about like this? So how about you get that condom quick?”

   “Yes ma’am.” They were sideways on the bed, so Remi laid on his back and reached over his head down toward the floor, stretching as he felt around blindly with his fingertips on the floor, around where he thought he’d dropped the other condom earlier when he’d freed it from the first. “Don’t lemme fall,” he warned Delilah jokingly, pleased when he touched and managed to grab onto something flat, square, and plastic. He waved his other hand around until she took it, then hauled himself back up with her help, sticking the corner of the packaging into his mouth and ripping it open with his teeth. After freeing his hands for a moment to put it on, he wrapped his arms around her waist, capturing her lips in a kiss as she lifted her hips enough to sit on him properly, her warmth encapsulating him once more in a fresh surge of bliss.

[remiwarner]

H O U R   A F T E R   M I D N I G H T

Delilah Khatri​.

      His moans pleased her, and the fact that he was warning her to stop if she wanted other stuff did so even more. It wasn’t as though she thought she’d be bad at it, mostly because she’d never even bothered to think about how she’d be in bed in general. So far, it seemed like she was getting rave reviews, and between how attractive she found him, and the fun they were having, she was flying high. 

     She took him out of her mouth, grinning up at him as she slowly crawled her way back to eye level, letting her body skim gently against his. Delilah leaned down to lightly brush her lips along his jawline, then his earlobe before she whispered, “So show me the other stuff.”

   “Kay.” A mischievous smile played on his lips and shone in his eyes as she buried her face in his neck, his hands coming to rest on her thighs. “Y’wanna be on top?” Remi didn’t wait for a response, laughter creeping into his voice as he flipped her onto her stomach on the mattress and positioned himself behind her. “Y’want it like this?” More laughter as he turned her onto her back again and grabbed hold of her ankle, draping her leg over his shoulder. “Like that?” He shrugged her leg off and pulled her into his lap so they both were sitting, facing each other, his smile long since transformed into a full-fledged grin. “Yes? No?”

[remiwarner]

H O U R   A F T E R   M I D N I G H T

Delilah Khatri​.

     She was looking back up at him as she did it, and she liked that he was watching her. It turned her on more, and she didn’t realize that with that, she relaxed more, able to take him in deeper than she had been so far. It took more work than she’d thought it would, arranging her jaw and minding her teeth, but it was easy to forget all of that when she wanted her partner this much. She couldn’t wait for the next gasp, or sigh, or moan, and she wanted to feel the passion she had earlier when they’d kissed — when she realized she’d memorized the color of his eyes. The eyes of the first man who’d ever given Delilah Khatri even an ounce of pleasure.

     After what they’d just done, every nerve in his body felt sensitive, every touch doubled or even tripled in intensity — and without the condom on, Delilah’s mouth felt better than the rest of her. Her lips, her tongue, the light suction when she drew her head back, and—    “Oh—” A stronger burst of pleasure caught him off guard as she took him deeper, surprise drawing a louder moan out of him, his voice half gone with his breath when he spoke to her again. “Y’keep this up much longer ‘n I’m’onna need another break ‘fore y’can try ‘ny other stuff.”

[remiwarner]

H O U R   A F T E R   M I D N I G H T

Delilah Khatri​.

    “Turns out I like a lot.” Your laugh. Your smile. “And well… this has been a definite winner.” Delilah tried taking him completely in her mouth, moving slowly as she tried to adjust to the new sensation, suddenly aware of her teeth and not wanting to scrape him with them. She’d never thought she’d want to do something like this, wouldn’t have even thought about it, but he made her want to please him. She wanted more breathy, throaty laughs, a chuckle lacing his words before it was cut off by a moan of pleasure. Not only did she feel sexy, but so was he.       Delilah was already picturing his hands on her again, the way he’d pinned one above her head, and now she was feeling the heat rush down again, desire igniting and burning bright between her thighs, causing a hum to roll up her throat.

     One more drag and the cigarette was spent. Remi stretched his arm out, squinting at what he was doing as he tried to reach the glass on the nightstand without disturbing Delilah’s explorative foray into oral sex. Maybe she wanted to return the favor. Maybe it was one of the things she genuinely wanted to try. He didn’t have any complaints either way. With a little flick, he managed to land the filter in the little murky splash of water, settling back into place so he could devote all his focus to her and the way her mouth felt wrapped around him. His hand wandered into her hair, fingers threading into it, and he was watching her now, lips parting for a soundless gasp at the faint vibration that accompanied her hum.

[remiwarner]

H O U R   A F T E R   M I D N I G H T

Delilah Khatri​.

     “Maybe I do,” she responded, watching him with a sultry stare, “Maybe I wanna know what you like. Maybe…” She kissed the bone of his hip, looking up at him as she allowed her kisses to get more dangerous, “I wanna try some things I haven’t gotten to…” Then her affection took on a different turn, her tongue slowly making its way along his length, and now both her hands were on either of his thighs to give them an unrestrained squeeze. “I bet this’ll be better than one of your cigarettes,” she suggested with a raised brow.

     So much for a water break. Desire bloomed anew somewhere deep in his abdomen, blood rushing down, a soft gasp escaping him when he felt the warm drag of Delilah’s tongue. He’d been watching her, but he let his head drop back onto the pillow, his eyes falling shut, the sensation sending a pulse of enjoyment through him.    “Y’can try whatever the fuck y’want,” he said, voice breathy with a hint of laughter and more than a hint of pleasure. Blindly bringing the cigarette to his lips again, he took another deep drag, the smile still tugging at the corners of his mouth as he exhaled. “I like this.”

[remiwarner]

H O U R   A F T E R   M I D N I G H T

Delilah Khatri​.

     The beam on her face didn’t leave for even one second, not even when he left to go to the kitchen, and especially not when he asked her what she thought of his cigarettes. “They’re terrible!” She laughed, tapping the ash off into the glass he’d gotten from her kitchen. It wasn’t anything special; not that she kept anything special in the kitchen. Most at her mother’s request, Delilah owned a china cabinet, and it contained all her more precious dishes. The kinds that came out when she had dinner parties for co-workers, or, when she was in school, professors and peers. Before that, her mother owned it, and they were presented whenever she had a new suitor in mind for her daughter. Briefly, Delilah’s smile faltered as she wondered what her mother might think of Remi. And then she looked at him, and it came right back, because who cared what her mother had to say about her life anyway?

     She turned on her side, the sheet having slid down to her waist, leaving her entire torso bare, and she propped her elbow against the pillow, resting her cheek in her hand. “So… do you do this with all the ladies? Charm your way into being allowed a smoke on… some insane thread count that I… didn’t buy.” She let out a breathy laugh, running her hand over the sheet between them. “Overbearing mother. Who cares?” Delilah leaned down to dust kisses from his shoulder to his chest, passively observing the ink and scar tissue that littered his skin. She’d listen to the stories, if he’d tell them, though she’d never pry — and that wasn’t exactly her intention anyway: it was to continue the trail of kisses all the way down to his right hip bone, a hand sliding down the same thigh as she did. She paused, peering up at him, “What’s your favorite? Position, I mean.”

     Contentedly smoking his cigarette that she’d handed back to him, Remi watched her smile and listened to her speak, laughing along with her when she broke off her line of questioning to talk about her sheets.

   “I don’t think ya really wanna hear about… other…” He got distracted, his concentration settling on her as her lips traveled slowly toward dangerous territory, her hand gliding over his skin, accompanying the line of kisses. Overbearing mother. It’d been a long time since Remi had wondered what his own would have been like, and he had no room to now, either, the thought gone before it even fully formed. She’d asked him another question.

   “I dunno… All of ‘em? Unless it’s some gymnastics shit ‘cause—” he laughed again, amusement shining in his eyes, “I ain’t that flexible.” Drugs and sex. Why pick a favorite when all of them were great in so many different fucking ways?