Porn

Participants:

eve6_icon.gif ghost_icon.gif

Scene Title Porn
Synopsis Pillow talk. Shop talk. Same thing?
Date June 1, 2019

Seedy Motel, Outside of the Safe Zone


Dingy, kinda (not) clean motel rooms. Where you go when you're trying to make a drug deal, cheat on your partner with a prostitute. Or, where you go to bang your lover from the future whose mind sits in the body of a clone transformed to look like his original body… because you're afraid that an immortal psycho is watching your home and maybe even your friends homes.

It's been a wild few weeks.

That's not saying much for Eve Mas who seems to be wild incarnate.

The noises coming out of the room echoed down the hall have subsided, mostly. Inside the room smells like cigarettes, luckily Eve brought fresh sheets, candles with a cinnamon scent. The whole nine, there's a bottle of three different types of booze on a tiny table in the corner. A single lamp is turned on. It's also on the floor thrown away from the end table, who threw it or why exactly it was thrown is known only to the two souls laying entwined in soft white sheets, pristine. They don't belong here in a place like this. "This is better than potentially having your…"

The woman's doe brown eyes drift over to the ghost's body and down, "Burned. Disintegrated." There's a puff of the fresh joint the pale woman had leaned over to light before settling back on the firm mattress.

Clothes litter the floor. Her dress, some heels. Really spiky heels (in case of a fight of course, but she had her gun in her bag). Eve's pale hand lifts and she studies in the dim lighting. Negation medicine sits near the bottle of tequila. She didn't feel in pain, like she was constantly in flux. She could touch things, people. A night like tonight, before she's off to whatever answers lie in the bottom of the myths she's been reading about her whole life. It was something she knew she needed and had no problem with, she loved Ghost and their loose but strong relationship. She was a wandering spirit and so was he.

She loves to watch him leave anyway.

Those eyes continue to study the man's jawline, the curve of his chest. Ghost could be considered a mythical creature. Eve supposes she could be considered one too.

Ghost is naked right now, as comfortable in this state as he is moving through the other shady contexts of his life. Stretched out like a panther on top of the sheets, looking at the ceiling sometimes, then looking at her others. She has beautiful hair. For a woman who apparently regularly encounters dangerous levels of radiation these days (should he be worried?) (as a general rule: he isn't worried enough), she still has beautiful hair, a glut of coal smoke that picks up the dingy light from the lamp and plays with it.

He wonders if she's even less capable of a tan these days, too. So fucking pale. Like the witches they used to write about. There are different kinds, right? The prophetesses. The ones who lay curses. The ones who poison. The ones who defy the physics of inquisitorial tests and turn into red fire. He might be getting his tales mixed up, that last one.

"No sign of any fucker with golden eyes," Ghost says, presently. Pillow talk. Shop talk. Same thing? "No one with fucked up, telltale dreams. Talked to Gabriel, looked into what Wolfhound has, which isn't much. Do you think there are two of them? One an Asian, one a creepy little blonde girl." He scratches his own arm absent-mindedly, the sprawl of a half-finished cuff tattoo encircling the old ones on his bicep. These days, the boat that used to sail on his arm is wreathed in fire and stars with faces, instead of only water.

"It seems to identify as they, so perhaps. Spilt in two, trying to make itself whole. Maybe that's why it hasn't made hellfire fall." Eve takes another puff of her join and turns her head so those doe brown eyes can focus on him, sliding up his jawline like her tongue was just a little bit ago. She likes the new ink, wants to see it finished. A hand goes to lay on that bicep and she shifts her body to turn it towards him. "Jazzhands," singsong tone and light grin plays across her lips as she passes the joint over. "How is he?"

There's no surprise that Wolfhound doesn't have much information. "It's the gold rush for intel. Ever single one of us have been in the dark, blind little mice scurrying around, running into walls." The soft white sheet slips and her nipples are left out in the open, its a little cold in the room.

"How are you?" Eve asks the question and her eyes squint, she won't ask him if he's been staying out of trouble. That's an absolute no on every occasion. The sweat on her body is almost dry, they hadn't gone for a shower yet. Eve didn't plan on leaving this bed until the sun was risen the next day and neither of them could walk straight. She had brought toys.

The engineering of time has wrought some similarities across Teos, including: they all like having stuff in their butts sometimes. So, cheers, Eve. o_ob

"You know I prefer to be the only one with two or more of me running around," Ghost says. "You better give me a heads up if you find out that she — they — whatever, are working on their numbers." Little Does He Know there are any number of other clone sets threatening this dubious distinction. He rolls his muscular frame upright, into a sit. His elbows resting on the bulk of his thighs. The knobs of his spine stand only gently under the meat of his frame, shifting slightly when he twists his head to look at her.

"I'm a little hungry, a little horny. Thinking about how a gut full of steak and a cheesy carb load don't go too well with sex." Especially butt stuff, Ghost is graceful enough not to add aloud. Most adult humans are low-key lactose intolerant. He runs his fingers through his own hair, which is just long enough at the top to swoosh, off-blond. "Thinking about learning how to play the piano, realizing I'm too old, assuming I'm not a genius. Gabriel is…" he pauses, thinking about how best to describe the other man. "Steadfastly avoidant."

Ghost also matches this descriptor, probably.

He looks at her. "How about you? How's Eve?"

"Well butt stuff is fun." Calling out his thought without knowing with a look over at the man, the dip in her clavicle has a thin trickle of sweat trailing over it.

Eve rolls over on top of Ghost and leans in close, "Mio genio. I can teach what you need to know. Old. Never, experienced in other… skills. We're only as old as we feel. So go for younger," reaching to run her own ivory hand over his tan, calloused one. "You're good enough with your hands, the digits especially." But Gabriel is also on the subject of discussion not that it makes Eve want to pull away from the man, her breasts press against his pecs and she tilts her head, she still feels hot. Hasn't totally cooled down. "He needs more friends. We can trap him. Maybe you should go out for a beer. He can glam it up. Anyone he wants! Two peas in a pod, watch out New York!" She knew that New York has had to watch out for both of the gentlemen before. Because a classic bro date is what would make everything better for the two of them. Truth was, the former terrorist was just of the mind that at least having someone as broken as yourself around could lessen the pain. And deepen it. Double Edged sword.

They were big boys.

But how was she?

Raven dark strands of hair tickle on the Ghost's bare skin, "I… am pushing myself. Maybe more than I ever have before. Perhaps I'm over that hump, with the losing my eyes and gift for the time." Maybe she could break herself further though, "I'm confused! I'm certain! I'm hungry for this to be over. I'm hungry for it to never end." Eve had grown tired or moreso bored of life after Pariah, the war, all of it.

She wasn't ashamed, least of it in admitting that to the Ghost who wasn't as pale as a Ghost should be. She was more of the ghostly specter. Spectre. There's a hint of a dark grin though and a wild glint in her already lit up eyes. "I'm also, horny."

In the meantime, the man runs his coarse fingers up the bridge of his own nose, looking for the faint aftermath of old breaks in the line of bone underneath the skin. But the reality is, probably, the ghost's fucked up his hands enough in the past few years that the faded remains of old breaks might pass unnoticed beneath his senses.

Especially when there are a pair of boobs on and then near him. Ghost is vain, not quite Narcissus in his preoccupation.

"You're gonna fuck up my back," the ghost observes. "I'm getting old." He is splendidly fortunate, that his body on the other hand, isn't. He brings to this lab-grown meat suit thirty extra decades of experience, had long since learned how to break-fall and climb with less stress on his body, how to condition it. Someday, it will catch up to him, though. Maybe another fifteen, twenty-five years. Right now he is joking. He drops his fingers from his own nose, reaches to pull the inky locks of hair away from her cheek. "I'll get so far up Gabriel's ass he'll know what it's like to be with you."

He grins. Shows teeth. Pushes himself up in bed, his back hitting the headboard. The cool is pleasant against the plane of his back. Someday, he'll have to consult with the other Teos and get to the bottom of their emotional reactivity to temperature, the fact he's so much less bothered by cold. "You've always been pretty fucking good at living in the present, even when you were an oracle," he observes. "No retirement plan, no dreams of old age. I like that about you."

Or maybe the ghost is Narcissus after all. He likes how she is like him. "How high can you fly now?"

An outrageous cackle from the woman and she lays her head on his chest as he moves to sitting more upright. "He'd love that." Of that she can't say for sure but surely. Maybe she will sugg- "You know.. That could really work out for Bird and Jazzhands." That's it!

That's also another time. Not now, but maybe Ghost should be there so Gabriel doesn't try to kill one of his friends. Eve wants to say best bud but that might be a reach, MAYBE NOT! Maybe she should ask that question too. "Even with my face shoved down in the icy cold raging waters of the To Come! It's hard.. You wanna.. Escape. Not dwell. What will happen, will happen. You can stop a wave, even a hurricane! Ask Aquaman!" A snort and she leans in and rubs her nose along Teo's, "But you can't stop all of them." There's a beauty in that for Eve and something she misses about having her visions. Sometimes it was okay to just know and not solve and while some might argue she has never known how to not try to solve.

That was exactly how Eve liked it. Loud fuss over here. Distract from right there. She didn't believe she was all that clever. She just… went with it.

Flowed, much as she seems to flow over the ghost, her hair draping over them and then pushed back by Ghost's hand. Those doe brown eyes catch a glimpse of her own hand and she stares down at it. She didn't totally understand her new ability. Not in technical terms, hadn't reigstered it yet with SESA… she didn't trust doctors and science faries. All labcoats, images of dead eyes and gleaming blades burn onto Eve's psyche. Gently shaking her head it looks like she's answering Ghost's question but its a reaction to the daydream as well as a delayed reaction to his words. "I.. mmm.. I know it was high. Like.. very tall building. Maybe not as high as the Empire State Building." But.. "Maybe we should measure. If you like, shazAM into my brainpan while I'm neutered. Then my gift POPS back on," Quite literally and lucky for Ghost and all his body parts she made sure to pop more of those meds before there was any chance of her gift turning back on. "I fly! Bam we both remember, riding in the misty cloud of doom. Front seat." The best seat.

Any scenario where Ghost is reduced to sizzling biodegradable mush is one he prefers to avoid, at least for the time being. However, power experiments where his corpus remains safe in keeping — that, he'd be quite interested in. And he likes flying. The opportunity <i>to</i> fly, planes and all that, is far and few between anymore. Even if you have a valid pilot's license, which he never bothered to get, plane rentals haven't exactly been a priority in the rebuilding economy of the United States of America.

People are more interested in food and running water, medicine, shit like that. "'Shazam' isn't the applicable term," Ghost says. "But I like the idea. It's been a minute since I got to go up in the sky, and you'd be a pretty sweet co-pilot."

He smoothes on big, callused hand over her spine, his rough fingers riding over the smooth amplitude of vertebrates under her skin, down to the tiny dimples at the small of her back. The subtle swell of her tailbone right before her buttocks begin to crest. He really, really likes her body, even when it's doing in his old man back. "Can you feel the cold or the heat when you're in that form?" He draws a tiny circle around her tailbone, his middle finger tingly-light on the skin.

"But you shazam me all the time," Eve feels his fingers and shivers from the touch, closing her eyes and canting her head to the left.

A soft shake of her head sends her slightly damp midnight mane flying a little, "I don't feel like I use to, don't see or hear the same." It was a different world entirely sensory and Eve was still making her way around to understanding it all. "No cold, no heat. But what I do feel, is when I'm like this. Skin and bone and wild eyed. Pain, ripping, like I'm tearing into a million pieces." There's a laugh as her eyelids flutter open to reveal brown eyes. "But when I'm…" She had been thinking on a name for a while. "When I'm a Spectre, I feel… bliss. Complete. Free." Mulling it over with a slide of her tongue over her teeth. "Untethered. Do you feel like that, when you're 'traveling'?" The gifts weren't alike unless you counted that they were both rendered disembodied as a result of them.

Scooting in closer to feel his warmth the former seer lays her head on Ghost, She's often entertained a road trip or the better word would be escape with the man. On the road, room to room. Trouble, passion, trouble. Eve closes her eyes again, listening to his heartbeat in his chest. Counting in her head.

One two, one two, one two, one two.


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