Participants:
| Scene Title | So Much Pleasure That It Feels Like Pain |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Kincaid spends his birthday with Gina. The two don't know much about each other, but only one of them seems to mind. |
| Date | December 28, 2010 |
An Upscale Hotel
In many ways, the setting of this birthday celebration is itself a Birthday Present. And a Christmas Present. And a New Years Day Present. All wrapped up in one. Though it's from Kincaid to himself. It took more money than he's likely to make in a while, but like his snappy clothes, it disguises the actual amount of money he has available. It looks nicer than something he can actual afford.
The wine rack alone would probably be too much for him, but he asked for the key. It sits open already, the hard liquor favored above the more romantic wines, and he got started early— while waiting for his birthday date to arrive. The lack of coffee brewing may itself be a curious sight, but so is the glass of scotch in his left hand. It's the bottle of scotch he favors for the moment, though there's one of just about everything.
To say he's dressed for the occasion is only half true. The dress shirt is partially unbuttoned, and his slacks are looser and more comfortable than normal. Jacket and coat are both hung up, and there's no sign of a tie.
He left a key down at the front desk for Lorine Hawk, knowing if she had to flash an id to get it, that's the one she would.
When the cell phone rang, Jessica's brunette head lifted from the gun she was cleaning. Strode to the bathroom where she left the mobile on the sink.
Seemingly from out of the room, Jessica's own voice calls to her, "It's for me! I've got it!"
Just as soon as Gina's image catches up to Jessica's in the mirror, for all intents and purposes appearing as though she's jogging in just behind the surlier of the two, they trade places and it's Gina's hand that wraps around the phone and flips it open. "'Caid! I was hoping you'd call."
And so, Lorine Hawk stands in the elevator on her way to the room Kincaid August rented for the two of them, a smile on her lips that isn't reflected back to her in the polished surface of the door. "Don't give me that face, Jessi. A girl's entitled to her fun."
"Call me Jessi," warns the reflection, "one more time."
Gina smiles winningly as the elevator chimes and the doors part, leaving her own image on one side and Jessica scowling on the other. "Oh look, we're here! Buh-bye!" She all but skips out of the elevator and into the hallway, heading down to the room indicated when she picked up the key card. She doesn't knock before she pushes the door open, letting the quiet beep of the card reader announce her arrival.
"Lookit you," Gina purrs as she steps inside the hotel room, transferring the key to her silver clutch. Her white trench coat is cinched securely in front, hiding whatever she's wearing beneath. The strappy silver heels - they match the clutch - aren't practical, but they were never meant to be.
"Hey— wow, you look way better than me," Kincaid says with a hint of that playful smile he would get sometimes crossing his face. There's something darker about his expression this time, as if he's having two parts of a horrible evening. But that's what having a birthday present is for, right? If anyone can take the pain away… even for a little while…
The thought trails, as he sets the glass of scotch down on a nearby table, so that he can get to his feet. She does look better than him, for the most part, because his hair seems shaggy, like he didn't comb it, his trimmed stubble has grown beyond trimmed to the point of nearly being a thin beard, and…
His eyes are a dark blue.
Could explain why he's not holding anything with his hand, and it's twinging a bit.
"I'm glad you could make it," he adds, words genuine, as he reaches up to touch her cheek. With his left hand. For an instant, one of his eyes looks bluer than the other. Whatever that means.
"Wanted to look my best for you." Dismissing looking better than he does. Into her clutch Gina reaches again, procuring something she conceals in her palm. After setting aside the purse, she tilts her wrist back and forth, something rattles in her hand. "I got you a present. It's not much, but I thought you might appreciate it."
Gina opens her palm. It's a small bottle of caffeine pills, laid precariously over a gift card to Starbucks. "Happy Christmas-Birthday," she says with a smile.
Someone a long time ago said that with presents, it's the thought that counts most.
Kincaid's eyes lower to the gift in her palm, the Starbucks card, the caffeine pills, all of it. It's thoughtful, and in an odd way far more personal than anything he probably could have expected. "Thank you…" he says quietly, voice strained and softer than normal. Taking up the two small gifts in his left hand, he looks them over, and then sets them aside.
Not to push them away, or reject them, but because he needs good hand free for what he intends to do next.
There's not much of a lapse between those two moments, when he reaches for her, pulling her against his body until they almost seem to threaten to meld, if clothes weren't in the way. Where they touch, there's warmth and a kind of reckless desire in the way he's kissing her, like someone who might be expecting the world to end, or this birthday to be the last.
For a long time, it seems like the world may have, until he finally stops, to catch his breath, pressing the side of his face against hers. With her heels, they're close to the same height. It made what he did easier. Eyes closed, he mutters again against her ear, more breathlessly than before, "Thank you. They're very thoughtful gifts… You're a gift all on your own, but…" he trails off. "Thank you."
The intense lip-lock session leaves Gina flushed and taking in quick gasps of air, nuzzling against his head in turn. "You're welcome," she murmurs, breath washing warm over his own ear. She tilts her head back, lingering nose to nose for a moment before she pulls away enough to make proper eye contact.
"Can I be your girlfriend?"
It's not something Niki or Jessica would ever ask of a man. Especially not on the second meeting. But Gina… Gina is young in her own mind. And a romantic. Lacking in the sensibilities of her counterparts. Asking Kincaid to go steady seems a wonderfully romantic notion on his birthday.
When she makes eye contact, it may take some time to notice, but his eyes are two different colors. One is exceptionally lighter than the other, the left one, almost as light as when he was squat on the bathroom floor in more pain than he could handle. The dynamic may not be weird on it's own, but to add that there's gooseflesh rising on his neck, the small hairs standing up.
"Some ways I think you already are," he whispers after a moment, blinking a few times until his eyes become closer to the same darkness. Never quite all the way to near black that they were sometimes, but close. The arm around her is pressing her against him, but his hand is not. It's his lower arm.
"At least I'm not seeing anyone else right now… and not intending to…" Though there is a curiousity in the way he lowers his eyebrows. Girlfriend.
He had been pretty sure she was quite older than him, though it would have been considerably rude to mention.
And Gina would deny it categorically. She is young, and dating an older man! She just happens to be doing it the body of an older woman.
Not that she would dare accuse Niki or Jessica of being old. And besides, dudes dig cougars, right? Win-win?
"'Caidy, are you okay?" Gina asks with genuine concern, bringing her hand up from its lazy rest on his shoulder to cup his cheek instead. "Your eyes… They were…" Her focus flits from one eye to the other. "Different." Her brows furrow, unsure of how much she should say.
"I'm alive," Kincaid says quietly, with a hint of a laugh to his voice, as he leans forward to kiss her again. "Sometimes I wish… I'd lost the hand, though. You'd still want to be my girlfriend even if I only hand a stump, wouldn't you?" It's not a question he really expects her to answer, as he blinks a few times. That left eye is paler again, brighter in color. "It's my ability. I wanted to use the other aspect of it, to… spoil myself, I guess you could say," there's pain in his laugh.
"Too bad it's very difficult to do both at the same time." But from the two colors in his eyes, he must be managing it— at least a little bit.
"I've never… I can make myself more sensitive, as well as numb," he explains, hoping she understands. "It…" he runs his fingers against her neck. "I can feel every inch of you— I can even feel the blood moving under the skin. When I was first learning, that's what I did the most— I could read in the dark, because I could feel the words on the paper. I could feel the pressure of the air, the slightest change in heat… When I hurt my hand, I lost that. I have a friend who recently went blind— and I understand what she's going through more than I can explain in words. It was a couple years before I could manage to do this much without…" Curling up in a ball? Crying out in pain? "And I still wish to cut off my hand sometimes."
"F'course I would," Gina answers anyway. "It'd be very Luke Skywalker." Just without the awesome sci-fi prosthetic. She quiets and listens to the explanation, nodding her head appropriately between concerned, searching looks.
When he finishes, Gina tilts her head to one side, dark hair swaying in its high updo. "So… I should probably let you sit down and give you your birthday blowjob, huh?"
Classy.
There's something to be said for class. But Kincaid pauses for a moment as if startled by the abrupt offer, before he leans forward and kisses her right on the tip of the nose. Really, what guy would actually say 'no' to that? Even if it seems abrupt. One doesn't buy a hotel room to sit around and chat!
Normally.
A while later… he's standing next to the alcohol cabinet again, unlocking it and looking through the bottles. "What do you prefer?" he asks, as he pours himself another glass of scotch. That glass he had when she first entered had already been finished off. Alcohol and him aren't supposed to go well— but… he's not using his right hand much, as a result.
When he returns with her drink, he has a question he'd forgotten to ask on his mind. "Why'd you want to be my girlfriend?"
Without the aid of a mirror, Gina is fixing her lipstick. A shade of purple on the bluer end of the spectrum than the pink or red. She's obviously well practiced at the application, as it's not out of place when she glances up at him from her newly claimed place in the chair he occupied earlier.
To his second query, she smiles genuinely. It looks almost too innocent and girlish on Niki's face. But only if one knows Niki. "Because I like you. And you're cute and what better reason is there to be someone's girlfriend?" Gina pauses thoughtfully, her eyes cast upward to the ceiling. "Well, I suppose there's always money, but I don't care about that." If only because she's capable of getting it herself. (Even if it's through Jessica.)
His own drink left behind, Kincaid isn't in a hurry to walk back over and get it, because he's looking at the replaced lipstick— or perhaps the lips that she's replacing it on and listening to her answer. It is very simple. "You barely know me," he says with a thoughtful tone. He barely knows her for that matter. "I could be a crazy serial killer who escaped from maximum security prison, for all you know."
If only he knew how funny those words would be to certain observers.
With those words said, his left hand strokes her cheek gently, touching as to memorize it the texture, every line. Even closing his eyes, to allow for the full effect of his muted ability. When he opens his eyes again, he has a serious tone to his voice, "Is this important to you? Am— I important to you?"
The appropriate, but not quite so appropriate response could be Actually, I'm a killer that escaped a maximum security prison. In appropriate because it's a very poor argument for why anyone would want to date someone else. But Gina does have to press those freshened lips together to keep from giggling. "Dating is a great way to get to know someone," she insists.
When he reaches for her, she allows him to feel the lines of her face for a moment before turning into his hand so she can smile against his palm, letting him feel the curve of her lips against his skin. Let him feel the single syllable formed there. "Yes."
"You'll be the first official girlfriend I've ever had," Kincaid admits quietly, though his voice is barely a whisper, as if he's caught up in what he's feeling on her skin, on her face. The words that she says make his hand pause, a blink bringing his eyes closer to the lighter color all around, until he grimaces and the colors shift once again.
"Not that I haven't been with women, I have…" As she likely noticed, he was no klutz. "It just never lasted more than… that." Dates are new to him, it would seem. "There was never time for it… And I admit I probably wouldn't have been the best boyfriend in the world."
No emotional issues here…
"But thank you, Gina," he says quietly, once again. This time… when he leans in to kiss her it's far more affectionate, slower. Some of the most sensitive nerves are in the lips, and his are so sensitive it almost hurts. But somehow drowns out the throbbing in his hand at the same time.
In some ways, he has to shut it off before it drives him crazy, cause he's shaking a little when he pulls back, both in breath, and the hand that went down to her neck. "You'll have to tell me where you want to go for a first real date." Cause this— this doesn't count to him. Even if some would say it's nicer than a real date.
It's an exercise in restraint that Gina doesn't grab hold of Kincaid's shirt and drag him down on top of her. She meets his kiss with the same lingering sweetness, comfortably hooking her thumbs through the belt loops of his slacks. "Anywhere is fine as long as it's with you," she tells him. Sappy like a teenager in love.
"I've never… really had a boyfriend, either. There was one guy once, but… He was into drugs and guns. Never me. I was just… arm candy." Gina's smile is a little sad, but there's enough hope there to overshadow it. "Pasts don't matter, right?" They always matter, of course. They always come back to haunt in the end. In her case, her present is likely to bite her head off come morning. "Right now, this is perfect."
Kincaid doesn't need to be pulled down, cause almost as soon as she says pasts don't matter he laughs quietly, and leans over her, pressing a warm kiss against her lips, her cheek, and then down further, on her neck, to the neck line. "Pasts fade away," he says after one kiss. She'll feel the slight scratch of his stubble. "Futures change," he whispers, the kiss there coming with a grimace, as his injured right hand twinges. And the reason comes when he raises his head up.
His eyes are far more blue than they probably should be. Both of them. Sometimes pain and pleasure are so similar they can counter each other. As he leans in and kisses her again, this time on the lips, it might just be enough.
Because he has one more thing. She's worried about the present, but right now…
"Right now is all that matters."
And they have a whole night of right now to enjoy.