❥ think you're funny, think you're smart;;

[trompeur]

 [It's pouring outside and LeBlanc is stuck inside of a shitty hut in the middle of a fucking desert until it stops. She had been heading toward Icathia in hopes of seeking out Malzahar, but the weather--oh the fucking weather.]

T'is a desert. Rain shouldn't happen.

[She throws her cloak over a dusty table that creaks even under the cloth's light weight.]

If the Prophet wasn't so entertaining I wouldn't even bother, but...

[LeBlanc sighs. What the Grand General wills must be done.]

Comments

[trompeur]

Oh, I forgive you.

Now hush.

[Leblanc presses her lips against his and bites down on his lower lip for good measure. She may not mind him being the more dominant of the two, but he's going to have to work for it. Besides, the rougher the better and Leblanc is rather certain that Loki won't like a woman trying to be the ringleader.]

[thispoisonousdream]

[The nipping on his mouth is awakening, almost energizing for Loki, and his hands grip at their hold on Leblanc in excitement. He figured that she would be a little feisty in bed, and really, he is glad for it. With such a lack of openness about his thoughts and feelings, channeling it through this is very possibly just what he needs...and he can only do so with her. Also, he likes the challenge.

He stands and steps closer to Leblanc, taking his place between her legs as she sits on the table. His hands glide up her ribs, palms grazing the sides of her breasts. If he can't have her indefinitely, he will make her his now.]

[trompeur]

[He's such a demanding man, it's hard to deny him. That's the fun part though, and god knows Leblanc loves to have fun. Leblanc tugs at the buttons on his shirt impatiently--she wants the clothes off. She's had to rely on her imagination, but goodness knows this man has a wonderful body.

Now she has to look up to him--it's a little irritating, she doesn't like feeling so small and breakable. Loki could break her so, so easily yet he chooses not to--perhaps it's because they have so much in common. Then again, what could a god and human possibly have in common? She's not so sure, but at the moment she refuses to question what she feels.

Leblanc pulls her corset up and over her head, casting it aside without a care in the world. Despite the bra, half of what appears to be a large bruise is visible on her chest. She never asks for men to be gentle with her--it's too easy to give into love and want if the sex is gentle.]

[thispoisonousdream]

[Leblanc's corset breaks their kissing and falls away to the dusty floor of the rickety shack. Loki takes the opportunity to formally introduce himself to her breasts, hands cupping them eagerly but gently, head leaning down to begin kissing and licking at the smooth, pale skin of her upper chest. He lets little of the open air between him and Leblanc's torso, but he wants to see her as well as indulge in her body. He'll need to paint a thorough mental picture for when they take their separate paths that will lead them far away from each other.

Loki thinks the bruise a shadow on her chest, but when it doesn't reshape and bend with the light, he pauses. It's first concern that waves over his face, then clarity...then jealousy. He straightens himself up.]

Quite the mark you have, m'lady. A wound from battle? [It is less of an inquiry and more of a challenge. Go ahead and lie to him, Leblanc. See what it will result in.]

[trompeur]

[She sighs as Loki kisses and licks at her breasts, eyes fluttering shut as she simply enjoys his touch. Leblanc wants to remember what his touch feels like--he seems to be so very good at knowing just the right places to kiss.

Loki's question breaks the trance and she blinks. Oh, is he looking for her to lie? Leblanc eyes him cautiously--he should know better than that.]

A rather roguish assassin and I had sex on a balcony. I've not seen you in months, Loki. That tone of voice you've taken is unnecessary.

[thispoisonousdream]

[Loki knows it's been an uncountable amount of weeks since they last saw each other -- with the greatest possibility of never seeing each other ever again; he knows that Leblanc jumps from man to man at will for nothing more than sexual release, and knows that she is not, and will never be truly his... Yet somehow, none of that reaches him as angry jealousy turns into adrenaline in his blood, because no matter what happens here, she will continue on without him, and he without her.

Ah, now he recalls why he has always kept his distance from people, placed his emotions and vulnerability into a fortress which no one could ever penetrate. No one except Leblanc.

His hands reach around Leblanc's back and grips at her bra before ripping it open roughly. His eyes are focused on hers as he tugs it off and away from her body, leaving her exposed.]

I'll take whatever tone I wish...m'lady.

[And he will take whatever he wants, have it to himself, claim it as his own, whatever the circumstances may be. He reaches up and grasps the back of Leblanc's head unkindly before pulling her in for a heated kiss, tongue demanding entrance into her.]

[trompeur]

[Her heart's pounding as she looks up at him, eyes wide and doe like. His anger makes the air around them feel heavy, but at the same time she feels petulant. How dare he speak to her like that. It's not even the roughness that bothers her, it's simply the way he speaks.

Leblanc tenses as he kisses her, blood rushing to her head as her world spins. Why is he being like this? He, of all people, should understand. He knows how soul-crushingly lonely the life she leads is, so why--

But then, through the confusion, there is anger. Pure rage. How dare he treat her like this when she trusted him. A low growl escapes her lips as they part, her nails digging into his chest as a sign of protest.]

[thispoisonousdream]

[Loki's tongue meets and melds with Leblanc's, but the sound that echoes out of her causes the Aesir a moment of mental pause. The hands on him are pushing against him, resisting him. It's enough for Loki to break the kiss, pull back enough to look at the mage before him. He forgets to censor the conflict on his face, the war between anger and pain strong within him.]

Do not resist me.

[He wants it to sound like a demand -- a threat even -- but he falters and there is an undercurent of something resembling a plea. He has never been too great at masking his emotions when they are as volatile as anger, or anything vulnerable.

His hand relaxes but barely; he has nothing else other than this, and he refuses to stop now.]

[trompeur]

If I was resisting you, I would be long gone.

[She smiles distantly, not really sure as to what this is leading up to. Leblanc hesitates before leaning up to press her lips against his neck, teeth suddenly digging into his throat. It's hard enough to draw blood, but not hard enough to leave any permanent damage.

Leblanc pulls away, red staining her lips as she smirks. She licks off the blood, a rather odd look in her eyes as she ponders:]

Should I trust you?

[thispoisonousdream]

[Loki has little time to relish in his relief over Leblanc's response before the woman leans in to grasp the flesh of his neck between her teeth. His mouth gapes open silently as he obediently takes the assault; it is a release to feel this type and level of pain. His body only tenses at the wave of arousal that sweeps through him as a result.

The sight of his blood on Leblanc's lips is alarming and beautiful, and he actually regrets her licking it away from her face.]

Perhaps not, depending on who you ask. And they might be right...

[He leans in to lick some of the blood that she happened to miss from below her bottom lip. With his array of abilities, he could heal from such a wound immediately, but he chooses the dull rhythmic pain and the blood trickling slowly down his throat.]

But I trust you. [And that says a lot.]

[trompeur]

[There's something about blood on such pale, flawless skin. It's a beautiful thing, especially where Loki is concerned. The fact that he trusts her--or at least claims to--means more to Leblanc than he'll ever know

She reaches over to brush her fingertips along his jawline, eyeing him with a sneaking sort of suspicion.]

Is the god--Loki--in love with a human?

[thispoisonousdream]

Of course not, m'lady. That would be silly...dangerous even. You're not interested in love, and I am incapable of such an emotion. You wouldn't want me to love you.

[It's spoken in irony, a mocking challenge to the truth of the situation. Yet there is a hint of disappointment in his tone, but he brushes it aside with a...kind smile. He doesn't want to say it; that is dangerous for him. Showing her, however, is much safer. It is up to interpretation that way.

He relinquishes Leblanc from his grip in favour to dislodge the decorative armor and straps from his torso, hands moving in an easy, flowing motion. Their attachments are intricate and he can nagivate out of them in his sleep.

The outerwear falls to the floor, kicking up dust on impact. It is so much more comfortable wearing just a shirt now, in the humid desert heat.]

[trompeur]

You cannot deceive the Deceiver, Loki.

[In other words, she loves you too, you scheming son of a bitch. Leblanc shrugs off the rather minimal amount of clothes she was wearing to begin with. She has some rather ugly scars here and there, many of them are on her back and stomach. She's died so many times, but she always comes back. ]

So, you do have a nice body under all that armor.

[thispoisonousdream]

Did you ever doubt me, a warrior and a god? Tsk tsk.

[Loki sheds the remaining shirt from his upper body and it slides off of his arms and into the void of the floor somewhere. His lips burn to be on Leblanc's again, and as he leans in to press their mouths together, his hands wrap around her ribs, just below her breasts.

Her body is warm and soft, sensations Loki is so desperately starved of. His hands stick to her in the wet air and for a moment, he feels like he is melding with her. He urges her back, to lay upon the table top, wanting to see just how close to melding to her he can get.]

[trompeur]

T'is never doubt, merely strategic cynicism.

[Leblanc smiles mischievously as he pushes her against the table, arms wrapping around him as she returns the kiss. It's been so long since she's felt this way--felt like she's actually wanted for more than just her power.

But the table creaks...]

Oh--

[And then proceeds to break! Leblanc manages to smash her head against the ground when she falls. Her head feels heavy as her vision blurs, blood staining her hair as she reaches up to touch a large gash on the right side of her head.]