He hadn't brought in any light with him when he'd entered, and she hadn't left any lamps burning, so there's nothing by which she can see his face — or most of his body, for that matter, in the darkness. Most of her knowledge of his present arrangement is based on what she can feel before her eyes have had time to adjust to her surroundings, and before that she'd kept them shut. Even now, the sensation of his mouth at her throat prompts them to flutter closed again, and she rocks into him with a tensing squeeze of her thighs at either side of his hips.
Of course, any words that might have transpired between him and Grayson are unknown to her, let alone what they could have conversed about. She'd left Grayson in the ruin of their making, a bedframe collapsed under something that couldn't even be described as mere fucking for how ravenous it had been — but a part of her is still irritated by the fact that his bite had injected her with something, brought her to a state of ecstasy that has since worn off and left her more infuriated than she was before she chose to poke her head into that room.
"A few? Tell me of at least one," she murmurs, her own lips hovering nearer to his ear; she'd intended to goad Grayson before, when talking about how she and Erik might find a way to occupy themselves within full range of his hearing, but now she derives a twisted sense of pleasure from the thought of him knowing Erik's come to her like this, that the sounds they make will inevitably drift down the hall to where Grayson struggles through his experiments.
His lips turn up into a smile and he drags them across her chest from one collar-bone to the other, letting her feel the shape of his grin before his tongue flicks out to taste the other side of her. Where Grayson can be hard and unyielding, as Erik well knows, he seeks to be sensual, soft and reverent.
"I could spend the next hour devouring each and every inch of your skin with my lips and tongue, tasting you and worshipping you. I could wind you up tight with nothing but kisses, until it takes only a flick against your clit to send you over the precipice at last."
"Only an hour?" It's a coy remark, when they both know full well that he could likely endure for much longer between the splay of her thighs; she'd put that partially to the test in the wake of the event they'd attended at the Scratch, where an unexpected meeting in the showers had led to much more exploratory hours back in this very apartment and she'd learned exactly how enthusiastic he could be about devouring her cunt with his mouth.
Whereas her encounter with Grayson had been... quick, rough, almost unforgiving of them both, Erik is the sort who will readily lay her out and build her up slowly, worshipping every part of her with his tongue until she's too impatient to allow him to do so any longer and decides to steer how the next hour plays out herself.
She hums quietly, thoughtfully at the images he creates for her solely through answering, and finally rears up over him in the semi-darkness, bracing palms against his chest and smoothing them upward until her fingers bump into something firm — and then her entire body stills where she's straddling him, as she feels over what's actually wrapped around his throat.
"I wouldn't want to keep you from your beauty rest too long," he quips. They both know he could go longer than an hour, but he was thinking of her health, of course~
He's ready to prove to her just how dedicated he can be, while enjoying the way this cuddle had turned so sensual with her mounting atop him, running fingers over his chest and up... until they meet the collar around his neck.
"Nothing to worry about. Why are you even wearing it, then?"
She doesn't vacate his lap, or even so much as surrender her straddle across his hips — she wants to be in the perfect position to witness his attempts to explain this to her, rearing up over him from the waist above until her hands are braced on his chest and she's looking down at him with a carefully arched eyebrow.
They'd never specified the necessity for collars in their own contract — even if it would likely keep him from being hassled unnecessarily by the guards in the Up were he to wear one, she'd had the keen sense then that it wasn't an idea he was greatly fond of, and now he's wearing something thick and clunky, leather with a metal ring jutting out of the center. She hooks her index finger through it, giving it a sharper tug.
"Did someone else put this on you? Was it Grayson?"
The sound of horrified disgust that grunts out of him at the very thought of Grayson collaring him leaves no doubt that he'd sooner die than ever submit in such a way. He'd laugh if the thought didn't make him feel quite so much like vomiting. And there goes his erection like a burst balloon. Not even having her reared over him and in his lap like this can save it.
"No. It was not Grayson." Though, he's not about to admit Grayson saw it already and that the disappointment he'd seen in his peers' expression was partially the driving factor for his seeking her comfort. Look where that's gotten him.
His eyes flash dangerously when her fingers hooks the metal loop. Oh, that he does not like.
"It was the city. A punishment for a citation received. That's all. It will be gone in two weeks."
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no subject
Of course, any words that might have transpired between him and Grayson are unknown to her, let alone what they could have conversed about. She'd left Grayson in the ruin of their making, a bedframe collapsed under something that couldn't even be described as mere fucking for how ravenous it had been — but a part of her is still irritated by the fact that his bite had injected her with something, brought her to a state of ecstasy that has since worn off and left her more infuriated than she was before she chose to poke her head into that room.
"A few? Tell me of at least one," she murmurs, her own lips hovering nearer to his ear; she'd intended to goad Grayson before, when talking about how she and Erik might find a way to occupy themselves within full range of his hearing, but now she derives a twisted sense of pleasure from the thought of him knowing Erik's come to her like this, that the sounds they make will inevitably drift down the hall to where Grayson struggles through his experiments.
no subject
"I could spend the next hour devouring each and every inch of your skin with my lips and tongue, tasting you and worshipping you. I could wind you up tight with nothing but kisses, until it takes only a flick against your clit to send you over the precipice at last."
no subject
Whereas her encounter with Grayson had been... quick, rough, almost unforgiving of them both, Erik is the sort who will readily lay her out and build her up slowly, worshipping every part of her with his tongue until she's too impatient to allow him to do so any longer and decides to steer how the next hour plays out herself.
She hums quietly, thoughtfully at the images he creates for her solely through answering, and finally rears up over him in the semi-darkness, bracing palms against his chest and smoothing them upward until her fingers bump into something firm — and then her entire body stills where she's straddling him, as she feels over what's actually wrapped around his throat.
"What the fuck is this?"
no subject
He's ready to prove to her just how dedicated he can be, while enjoying the way this cuddle had turned so sensual with her mounting atop him, running fingers over his chest and up... until they meet the collar around his neck.
Shit.
"It's... nothing to worry about."
no subject
She doesn't vacate his lap, or even so much as surrender her straddle across his hips — she wants to be in the perfect position to witness his attempts to explain this to her, rearing up over him from the waist above until her hands are braced on his chest and she's looking down at him with a carefully arched eyebrow.
They'd never specified the necessity for collars in their own contract — even if it would likely keep him from being hassled unnecessarily by the guards in the Up were he to wear one, she'd had the keen sense then that it wasn't an idea he was greatly fond of, and now he's wearing something thick and clunky, leather with a metal ring jutting out of the center. She hooks her index finger through it, giving it a sharper tug.
"Did someone else put this on you? Was it Grayson?"
no subject
The sound of horrified disgust that grunts out of him at the very thought of Grayson collaring him leaves no doubt that he'd sooner die than ever submit in such a way. He'd laugh if the thought didn't make him feel quite so much like vomiting. And there goes his erection like a burst balloon. Not even having her reared over him and in his lap like this can save it.
"No. It was not Grayson." Though, he's not about to admit Grayson saw it already and that the disappointment he'd seen in his peers' expression was partially the driving factor for his seeking her comfort. Look where that's gotten him.
His eyes flash dangerously when her fingers hooks the metal loop. Oh, that he does not like.
"It was the city. A punishment for a citation received. That's all. It will be gone in two weeks."