At the mention of his cologne once again he felt an urge to defend himself, to protest that perhaps he'd just changed it to elect a more festive scent (this being The Nutcracker after all), but got no further than opening his mouth before she distracted him with an unexpected pinch. "Ah," he gasped, and then she was off again, kissing and talking, and his window for protest had closed. (And it would have been a weak protest, anyway, so perhaps that wasn't the worst outcome).

Her description of his effect made the hair on his arms stand on end. Careless lust stirs up a desperate courage; if she was speaking truly, this was the stuff of poetry. How ridiculous that the thought thrilled him so.

"Don't make it sound as though it's my fault we ended up here," he teased, running his hands along her sides while he let her work through the laces on the dress. "That stunt with the cigarette was irresistibly intimate."

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The following 1 user Likes Ozymandias Dempsey's post:1 user Likes Ozymandias Dempsey's post
   Sophia Lissington

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MJ is the light of my life <3

That gasp sounded good enough to eat, and Sophia took careful note of the fact that she ought to draw that sound out of him at least a few more times tonight. But in the meantime his voice felt like it wrapped her in silk, even a comment so teasing. She had a cocky response on the tip of her tongue, but summarily lost it with the feel of his hands.

An involuntary shiver moved through her entire body once he dragged his hands along her sides, even through her clothes. Sophia tightened her legs around him, skirt bunching up above her knees in a pool of fabric between them. Finally the laces pulled away, and she released her arms from the sleeves of the dress to expose her top half and the lacey pale chemise she wore underneath. She took care to wear a prettier one of hers tonight, a slightly sheer and figure enhancing piece from France. Not that it needed to be worn for very long.

“I’m not sorry for my stunts,” she finally managed, pulling him as close as physically possible now that they’ve divested themselves of some of these unnecessary barriers. Both her hands found his hair as she kissed him again, intent on making him look quite disheveled once she was through with him. “Not when you reward me so handsomely for the result,” she continued. “Now what was all this you were saying about soundproofing the door? I see no evidence for the need,” she added the last as a playful barb, pulling away enough to give him a wicked look that dared him.

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thank you gin for the set<3

Ozymandias Dempsey was hardly the sort to let a challenge go unanswered. With a noise something like a growl he threw himself back into their entanglement. He kissed her neck hungrily as he tugged her chemise up, not bothering to be gentle — tearing it would only provide him an excuse to make a gift of a replacement. He broke away just long enough to get the chemise over her head and tossed it aside, then lifted her against him to set at one of her breasts with his tongue and his teeth. He listened for her reaction, prepared to press her harder if she had decided to take this moment not to be dramatic.

A belt buckle and one button were all that stood between his lower half and her. Keeping one hand on her thigh to hold her where she was, he used the other to inch the belt out of its buckle.

He pulled his mouth away from her just long enough to survey the dimly lit room and catalogue his options; he wasn't inclined to continue where they were. There was a sofa that would prove most comfortable, but there was no novelty in that. He turned back to her with one eyebrow raised, tone mischievous. "Shall we relocate to the desk?"

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MJ is the light of my life <3

Sophia taunted, and the reaction measured up exactly to what she hoped for. Incidentally, it also taught her what she might try in the future to shut him up effectively (a momentary lapse in judgement ignoring the fact that she already considered they may have future visits). At any rate, this new pace matched the flavor of their passion. There was nothing soft or vanilla about their affair, and no fun in pretending otherwise. A cunning grin pressed up against his mouth and didn’t fade even as he found a path down her neck or tugged her chemise aggressively enough to rip its delicate lace, the sound of it tearing muffled against the noises they made against each other.

Her head went back as his mouth found her breast, the pleasurable shock of it causing her nails to dig into his biceps. Remembering quite literally the only rule, she released as quickly as she’d grabbed on, and muted her groan with a fierce bite down on her tongue. Now that she’s challenged him, she had no intention to let him win so easily. Although, she may have her work cut out for her. The way her body writhed against his made it clear the impact he was capable of having.

Oh no, and now he leveled her a wicked look. One she matched with her front teeth worrying her lower lip, Sophia took exactly one second to consider his question. She rest her arms on his shoulders, joining her hands behind his neck.

“Well yes. Clearly we should.” Her voice sounded low, thick with lust. It would be fun to shove all that obnoxious paperwork on the floor.

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thank you gin for the set<3

The most effective thing to do would be to put her down and let the two of them walk to the desk, decoupling long enough for him to deal with his pants and shoes and her to remove her dress from around her waist, but he didn't want to indulge letting her separate from him for any reason. She still had her things wrapped around him and he held her in that position as he moved across the small room, navigating around the chair to place her on the edge of the desk. She could decide what she wanted to push aside when it came to desk clutter, since she was the one who would be dealing with the fallout in whatever form it took. Oz kissed her once more, then turned his attention towards flipping her skirt out of the way.

This was moving faster than he typically did, in these situations. He usually preferred drawn out seduction ripe with opportunities to take a woman's breath away. Oz could cheekily have claimed that they'd gotten the foreplay out of the way in July and were picking up where they'd left off, but the truth was he hadn't needed much in the way of foreplay tonight and suspected she didn't, either. He'd been hard since he followed her down the stairs several minutes ago. Even if he hadn't, one touch or kiss was a sufficient thrill to push him there. Just being with her was heady, even before they'd made contact: the way she swept her leg across the floor between them; the look in her eyes while she considered him; the shape of her lips while she smoked his cigarette.

(The cadence here had less in common with his typical methods of approaching and wooing his various affair partners; the urgency felt more like Thomasina).

He touched her once, to ensure she was ready for him (a force of habit, probably; he needn't have bothered to check) then pushed his way into her with a pleased sigh.

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The following 1 user Likes Ozymandias Dempsey's post:1 user Likes Ozymandias Dempsey's post
   Sophia Lissington

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MJ is the light of my life <3

They were relocating, and Sophia rewarded his grasp on her with fervent open-mouthed kisses along his neck, shoulders, and chest. Once situated, one hand anxiously grasped her skirt back to pin it away, while the other shoved aside whatever it was behind her for more room — books and paperweights and pens thudded to the carpet. Every inch of her ached for him, and yet she felt a bit nervous. It’s been nearly two years. What if he could tell she was out of practice? Of course, the silly thought dispelled as soon as his lips and fingers found the buttons that set her body on fire. Coherent thought went out the way her chemise did, and anticipation caused her breath to hitch.

“Ah,” she groaned in soft response into his ear, arm hooked around his neck. Was she still teasing him for making such a bold claim about loud sex? Perhaps. But to be fair on him, things were only just starting, and already Sophia felt herself losing grip over the reins. Her forehead found his when her hands moved to cup his face. Their gazes locked for a breathless moment as they tested these new waters. Maybe he recognized what she did, that somehow they’d stumbled on this exigent need to have each other, in a way she would have never anticipated.

Finally, “More,” her single syllable landed as a strained command rather than a plea. She couldn’t articulate what she wanted more of, though her body seemed to know. Eventually her arms disentangled from him, and she leaned back on her forearms to the desk to arch herself into his hips. They found an urgent pace together, building white-hot pleasure in her center and increasing the volume of her cries in the process. Damn this man!

Something he did with his hands brought one of her legs to rest against his chest, while her fingers curled white-knuckled on the edge of the desk. Already he had her dangling on the precipice. Only the faintest sense of self-preservation helped her vocalize a curse, then, “Don’t finish inside–” before her voice clipped and her head dropped back, body quaking with wave upon wave of ecstasy.

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thank you gin for the set<3

He outlasted her (and felt a little smug about that), but not by much. If he hadn't already been close to climax, seeing her body tremble like that would have done it for him. Her last directive was unnecessary, though he couldn't begrudge her for ensuring he was taking some basic precautions against a situation neither of them wanted. He'd been a rake without any bastards for a decade before he'd married, though, and he had a childless wife of five years. Pulling out wasn't something he needed to be told; it was as much a habit as the rest of the act.

After he finished he took a few seconds to catch his breath, then fished a handkerchief out of his trouser pocket. He cleaned himself up first so that he could button his pants again, then carefully wiped the mess off of her thigh. He folded the handkerchief so that the mess was contained and then tossed it towards the door, to be retrieved whenever he got around to dressing. That done, he at last turned his attention back towards his partner and offered her a tired but wolfish grin.

"I think now might be the time for that quality liquor you mentioned," he suggested. He ran his hand up along her body, cupped one of her breasts and rolled the nipple gently between his fingers. The gesture may have been the same as foreplay but the mood of it was different; not geared to excite or tease but rather to invite a certain comfort and intimacy in the haze of the afterglow. "And perhaps we can find you a slightly more comfortable location."

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MJ is the light of my life <3

Sophia lay there to catch her breath, one hand splayed across her chest and neck where her fingertips sought to feel the ebb of her racing pulse. Like it offered a direct conduit to the condition of her heart, she checked in there. Any pain? No. Any shame? Not at all. Any regrets? Not even a little.

Pleased with this outcome, Sophia met his idle touch with a delighted hum. “Mm, agree.” She sat up to appreciate the slight sheen of sweat their activities created, so much so that she couldn’t resist pressing another kiss to his lips. For good measure (and because she thought she earned it), one of her hands reached around to give his buttock a good squeeze. Then she slipped off the desk.

Soph let gravity bring her skirt down back into place as she pursued his first suggestion, musing, “I’m feeling celebratory…” (The second suggestion - as to where she’d be more comfortable, she had to think about.) She shook her mussed hair back and slipped her arms into her sleeves, enough to cover her forearms and just above her elbows, but she couldn’t be fussed with the laces yet. At the bar cart, she waved to light a few more candles to help better inspect their offerings.

The added light exposed little clues to their business littered all over for any who cared to look, like a large framed photograph to her left and below it, fancy script and a few rows of signatures. It showed the opening day of their theater in sepia tones, all investors lined up chummy on the theater’s front steps – every single one in tophats save for one Sophia Voss, standing at the center beside Seamus. (The man was nauseatingly cheap, so the picture did not have some of the modern enchantments that animated and memorialized such an important moment).

Sophia clinked around through the glasses and settled on a finely engraved crystal bottle with amber liquid. “There’s gin, and brandy. Though I am partial to this Irish whisky. Which do you prefer?” she gave Oz a cheeky smile. With whatever he agreed to she set about arranging them with two glasses, neat.

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thank you gin for the set<3

Oz may not have been as militantly political as his sisters tended to be, but he did still have mild nationalistic tendencies; he wouldn't chose gin if a high quality Irish whisky was on offer. It wasn't traditionally as much of a lady's drink as the others, but she wasn't traditional. She'd said it was her favorite and she was foregoing any cocktail mixers, so she must have meant it.

While she poured the drinks he sank into the larger armchair, presumably the one used by the manager (Oz didn't know; any of his business with the man had been conducted either through letter or in the more impressive theater space upstairs, which meant the first time he'd been in this office was to defile it). When she approached he reached for her instead of the offered glass, wrapping an arm around her waist and tugging her down into his lap. Oz leaned his head into the space above her shoulder, dragging his breath along the length of her neck before planting a soft kiss on the edge of her jaw.

"Do you expect interruptions any time soon?" he asked, thinking of Lennon. "Because what I would most like to do now is get slightly drunk and demand an encore."

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MJ is the light of my life <3

The feel of Ozy’s hands intoxicated her enough on their own, so she was pulled easily into his lap. She let out a small contented sigh as his breath ghosted over her neck.

“Let me see…” Sophia murmured, head tilted as she glanced around for the clock. It was nearly midnight. “Either he will arrive in about an hour, or he won’t come back here at all tonight,” she mused. “Odds are… fifty-fifty.”

Sophia reached forward to set aside his glass on the table before she turned to drink in the sight of him. Her smile curled into something mischievous because he asked for an encore.

“Ozymandias,” his full name rolled off her to tongue in playful shock. “Are you always this insatiable? Or am I just so lucky this evening?” She shifted gently in her seat, her glass balanced in hand as she moved one of her legs to straddle him on the chair.

“We can barricade ourselves in here,” she punctuated her teasing suggestion with a soft kiss near his ear, which she whispered into, “This would make it so that I cannot come into this room again without thinking of your naked body in this armchair, and the things you’ve done to me here.” She already had a few choice images in her mind’s eye, but it never hurt to expand one’s range. Though confident in what they could accomplish with an hour and their ability to stall intruders, she didn’t know Oz well enough to assume he would also enjoy the thrill. She would hate to cut a good thing short prematurely (again).

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thank you gin for the set<3

"You bring it out in me," Ozymandias replied with a sly smile, to her question of insatiability. It was a glib, thoughtless response, because expending any thought on answering her would have meant examining the current situation more closely than he wanted to. He did want to fuck her again, and that wasn't usual. The reality was that he didn't think he'd have another chance, so felt pressured to make the most of whatever time they did have together. This liaison probably oughtn't to have happened at all, and although they'd found themselves here the moment still felt fragile. Maybe it was only some lingering sentiment from the abrupt ending of their last set of private moments. Maybe it was the half-lies he'd told himself about the intoxicating atmosphere of the performance being responsible for leading him this way. She had given no indication that she intended this to be an isolated incident — and to that point, neither had he, once he'd dropped the pretense of being aloof with her. Did he intend this to be an isolated incident? Did he have any articulate intentions at all at this point, or only vague feelings? It ought to have been inconsequential to cut the affair short; he'd saved his pride with his letter and their conversation at the opera, so he needed nothing from her now. He could have been anywhere else, with anyone else, and it would have been simpler, stabler. Yet here he was.

The glib, thoughtless response hadn't done its job; here he was thinking about it anyway. Very well, he might as well be honest with himself. He wanted her. It wasn't sexual, or at least not purely sexual. The sex was good, but he could get that elsewhere. He wanted to flirt with her backstage after her performances and send her little gifts. He wanted to be enchanted by her. He wanted to spend time thinking of new ways to seduce her.

Oz fondled her breast as he chewed the matter over, then used his other hand to reach for his glass. "I can't change my cologne all the time," he said, eyes on the whiskey. "My wife would notice sooner or later."

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MJ is the light of my life <3

Sophia laughed, always flattered at the suggestion she could draw out something no one else could. Though even as she did, she could not help a twinge of guilt that wound its way through the far reaches of her mind. As if she was too greedy and didn’t deserve to feel this good. A damaging thought (one she had to dispense quickly, lest he pick up on it). A sip of the whiskey’s vanilla-laced oakiness coated her palette as a welcome diversion. It even helped mediate the quirk in her eyebrow over what her companion said next.

Given her train of thought, it was hard to not hear his words like a confession. Such uncharacteristically poor timing for Ozymandias. Surely this was not his first affair? No, she didn’t believe that for a second. This didn’t ring with intent to make her feel jealous either, not that it would be an effective tactic anyway (though mentioned playfully earlier, she knew he wasn’t hers to claim). Maybe he shared the same selfish desire she did, then. To guard something that felt precious and easy in this hazy lull after sex. Uncomplicated. 

Problem is, the two of them seemed to have a knack for inviting complexity with guns blazing. If they were a work of literature, this was their shared character flaw.

Mercifully, Sophia’s mind settled on a more important note to underscore – he wanted to meet again. This swept away concerns. Already the idea of “next time” took some of the edge off her impulse to prolong what felt fleeting. So rather than respond right away, Sophia drained more of her drink. Maybe the root of his problems were bigger. But in the interest of simplicity she wasn’t about to dig deeper.

“I wish I could predict how your cologne will impact me,” she set aside her glass with a shrug. “It seemed fine when we first met. But something changed when sex and drugs became involved.” Only two of life’s most enjoyable things. Coy fingertips hoped to give him a persistent reminder of this with an idle graze along his chest and abdomen. What happened before was not an experience she wanted to relive, even if she knew what to expect. Her reaction might be less extreme, but it would sour the mood. No, they need a more creative solution.

“I suppose it would be too convenient to run out of your cologne or a key ingredient?” she mused, letting her loose hair cascade down to cover the shoulder his movements exposed. “My schedule is strict, you know. I’m certain we could manage our timetables so that you are at less risk. Or,” her expression brightened with a smirk, “If it’s the spontaneity you appreciate, I can douse you with water upon arrival? Then you simply must have some on hand to reapply before you go home. Hmm. I like that. Hosing you down like a dog,” she teased. Before he could conjure a reply she reminded him what the hassle was for. A passionate, insistent kiss, one that deepened with the volume of her desire.

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thank you gin for the set<3

Ozymandias felt a twinge of exasperation at having been misunderstood, but as he returned her kiss he had to wonder if it hadn't been intentional. She must have known he wasn't merely talking about avoiding a reaction, but rather wondering at what the reaction implied. (Or, fine; it wasn't that she must have known. As intimate as each of their interactions felt, she didn't know him well enough to discern whether he was the sort who would only care about the relationship to the extent that it impacted him or whether he was more considerate. The letter he'd sent and their conversation at the opera were the only pieces of evidence in his favor, but those might not have been indicative of his general character.

And, if he were being honest, maybe it wasn't indicative of his general character. If someone else had been in his shoes, a friend relaying the story rather than him living through it, Oz knew what advice he would give them: cut and run. This is too messy. You can get the same thing elsewhere for less trouble, and nevermind her feelings. In any other setting he would have only been focused on the impact to himself, and he'd bruised women's hearts before for less. What was different about this — about her?)

In any case, the message behind her kiss was clear: she didn't want to talk about her fragility. He couldn't blame her. If he had exposed that kind of weakness, he wouldn't want to talk about it either. Particularly not with someone he hardly knew.

He returned the kiss; ran his fingers lightly down the curve of her neck. "We'll think of something," he murmured. A dismissal of the topic, perhaps an implicit apology for bringing it up.

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MJ is the light of my life <3

Perhaps the kiss was more for her than for him. With eyes closed, she could feel her body lean forward in its selfish need to prolong his touch, to maximize it. This new frisson felt hard to define; at first she was sure it was because she had gone without intimate touch for so long. But after her pent-up frustrations from weeks back led her to the warm embrace of another, she was less certain this was the case. That time felt nice, but decidedly one-dimensional.

Nothing like the longing that rooted in the pit of her stomach now.

These thoughts weren’t helpful, and quickly dismissed. But as their lips parted, Sophia sensed something amiss in his soft murmur. Not all that different from taking a misstep out of a song’s rhythm. There’s nothing you can do when that happens, save but carry on and try to smoothly move back to the beat. So Sophia forced herself to lean back a bit, blue eyes searching his expression for a clue. Had she misread him? Would he say what was on his mind? Do I even want to know, she wondered to herself, as her fingertips absently moved to brush one of the loose tendrils of his hair back from his forehead.

I don’t, she decided firmly. Who knew what was on Ozymandias’ mind, but she was no legilimens. He would have to tell her if it was important enough, and more likely than not, it wasn’t.

“Hm, do let me know how I can help,” she said, smile suggestive, though her tone might imply that she wasn’t much bought into his response.

With a sidelong glance she noted their glasses were running low, and used this as an excuse to extract herself from her seat. Maybe Ozymandias needed a minute (a convenient thought to ignore that maybe she needed a minute).

“You know, though I used the patents as a ruse to have you to myself, they are quite real,” she shared as she moved back to the bar cart. With a wandless charm the bottle of whiskey moved to refill their glasses on the desk. This freed her attention to rifle through some of the drawers at the desk beside Ozymandias in search of nothing in particular, just something of interest. “If your interest was genuine, this is the room where we’d find them. Aha,” Triumphant to have located cigarettes, Sophia pulled one to her lips. 

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thank you gin for the set<3

There was a moment when she looked at him and he wondered if they were going to delve into a discussion of something deeper, but then it passed. She broke eye contact then physical contact, and the tension behind the moment seemed to dissipate as she refilled their glasses. He was struck by the thought, apropos of nothing, that he ought to take this opportunity to leave — but before the thought had even fully formed he was aware that he would not. He didn't know why. There wasn't anything lingering in the back of his mind that he wanted to accomplish with this liaison, necessarily; he had arrived to it without forethought or agenda, so there was nothing holding him here except whatever had drawn him in the first place.

Sophia was discussing patents, and Ozymandias pretended only casual interest until she said aha. Thinking she had found them in a drawer, he sat up straight and leaned forward, eager for a look — but she had only found a cigarette, and then he was left feeling a bit sheepish about how he had reacted. He tried to brush past it by moving towards her and taking both a cigarette from the drawer, which he waited for her to help him light, and the refilled glass, but though he had brushed past it physically he was still feeling slightly self-conscious about his interest in the patents when she had stated quite plainly they were a ruse on her end.

"I did try to recreate the effect," he admitted. "Though I don't know what I planned to do with it if I'd gotten it to work. I just couldn't stop thinking about it. Reliving that trick of yours in the catwalks. The feeling of it." He leaned against the edge of the bar cart. He was looking off at the corner of the room rather than at her, but they were close enough that he could feel the way she was standing and get a sense of her body language without having to look. "I didn't know if it was the powder that enchanted me or if it was you," he continued, deliberately. Oz didn't know when or why he had decided to say this, but he was certainly only going to say it once, so it was important to be clear. "Given the way we left things I couldn't admit to being obsessed with you, so — I turned to invention."

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MJ is the light of my life <3

This reactive interest in the contents of the drawer only delighted Sophia, who didn’t deliberately lead him on... it just so happened. Thoroughly satisfied with what turned out to be perfect bait, she threw him a devilish little smile and would have left it at that.

Although, he seemed embarrassed about bearing his cards. But why? It's only natural for an inventor to be preoccupied with novelty. So when he eased over to stand beside her, Sophia firmed up her spine. Fun turned into anticipation that the shoe will drop, now that he worked up the resolve to say whatever he thought about earlier. If she were lucky there might be a few more rules defined. But more likely, the shine of something novel between them faded, and there might be a few words to smooth over his inevitable exit. 

Yet, none of this came. Tension eased from Sophia’s shoulders enough for her head to tip curiously to the side as he explained himself, with all the bashful indications of a schoolboy asking a girl to dance. Sophia drew in a sharp breath without realizing it, at the word obsessed. Her disbelief tempered only by the way his eyes fixed elsewhere, like this admission stole all his concentration to say. Like it could possibly be the truth?

After a ponderous drag of her cigarette, “I don’t know that you’ll ever be able to recreate that effect,” she agreed quietly. Not for lack of trying. But the charms in that powder were the least complicated factor in what created this feeling. A feeling she expected, at least until now, to exist only in her head. Now that it clearly wasn’t, she - the shameless Sophia Voss - blushed.

The moment felt too precious to break, the way it certainly would if she closed the distance between them the way she wanted to. So Sophia leaned back against the wall, one hand acting a buffer between her lower back and the wall’s edge, the other letting her cigarette burn idle coils of smoke between them. She worried her lower lip over what to say. A distant part of her mind noticed these were clove cigarettes.

“And where we leave things tonight…” she finally ventured. Because she had to know. After what happened between them during his last visit. The distance he put between them after the opera. Even the reservations he had earlier tonight, before she purposefully shook his resolve. “Will you still be turning to your inventions?” Or are you, like me, possibly still a bit obsessed?

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thank you gin for the set<3