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Scuttle's Things and Stuffs

one half of his mouth pulls up, a sly grin as her body finds his and his hands reacquaint themselves with the curve of her hips. he leans closer as their lips meet, catching her bottom lip momentarily between his teeth before releasing it

Curiosity can be such a dangerous thing, freckles. You never know what position you could end up in..
 
she sighs ever so softly at the tug of his teeth against her lip, her hips flexing momentarily against his...she doesn't doubt that he felt it

her expression is now nothing short of mischievous as their eyes meet once again


You say that like it's a bad thing, Daddy.

But then I guess that would ultimately depend on the final position...wouldn't it? Although the positions experienced in order to get there should probably be taken into account too.

So many questions. So much curiosity.

So much trouble....
 
his expression mirrors her own as their eyes meet, blue on blue, light shining in both pairs. his fingers curl slightly at the movement of her hips, gripping tighter, pulling her body more firmly against his own

The trouble is the best part, freckles.

he pauses, as if considering, his voice dropping low before he continues

Although making you crawl for me may be a close second.
 
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Ooooh looks like I wandered back in here just in time. There's been mischief afoot. * settles in and gets comfy*
 
They had been riding for days, pushing themselves and their horses to the limit, and still on the horizon behind them the plume of dust rose. The land was flat and open, wide and sparse, and there was nowhere to lose their pursuers. No twists in the path, no switchbacks to cover their change of direction; just the tiny dots of creeping certainty behind them, and the shabby collection of buildings in front of them, and hardpacked nothing all around. They could stop here for a break, give their horses some water, give themselves a chance to breathe, but then where to? Salvation did not lay ahead, only more hardscrabble nothingness. Was it better to die in the middle of the wide open nothing? It didn't seem an improvement. It didn't seem an option, really.

He glanced over at her, his eyes taking her in through quick glances here and there: her hands curled tight around the reins, the strong outline of her thigh against the horse under her, the curve of her back as she leaned forward, urging the beast onward, the narrow slits of her eyes against the harsh setting sun they seemed to be trying to flee towards. He wanted to tell her he was sorry in that moment, wanted to say he didn't mean to pull her into this, that he never should've taken her away from the place he found her. He knew she'd probably shoot him herself for even uttering such a thing, and it made him all the more sorry. This was always where he would end up, he had known that for a long time, but her...

She would say he is where she would always end up, and maybe she was right, and for that he was all the more sorry.

Turning his head slightly more, he glanced over his shoulder and saw what he knew he would, the same dots on the horizon that had been following them for what felt ages. He thought they could outrun them, and for a time they had, but in the end their speed wouldn't matter. Fucking tortoise. Stupid hare.

He faced forward again, pressing his heels into the side of the horse that carried him to the end of his story, pushing for more speed. In the back of his mind, on the fringes of his consciousness, a calculation was happening. Speed meant time; every second sooner they arrived at the ramshackle town ahead of them was a second longer he'd have with her. If the end would come then let it, but he would go out with the taste of her mouth on his, the final stolen thing they could never take back from him. They may only have half a day, but he would spend it lost in her the way he had been for months now.

Together, just as they had the previous dusty miles, they thundered across the last hundred yards and slowed as they entered the small town that seemed to have no reason to exist except as a last stand for those on the run. They exchanged a glance, her dark eyes finding his green-blue gaze, and knew in that instant they were on the same page together. There was no earthly way anyone here should know who they are, or why they're here, or who pursued them, and yet caution was still called for. Not because they expected to survive, he saw in her eyes that she'd come to the same conclusions he had, but because neither was willing to let some go-getter asshole with a gun steal away their time. Besides, they were probably nice people out here in the great empty, and he didn't want to have to use every last bullet he had turning the place into a ghost town for robbing him of his time with her. Christ help them if she was the one left behind, instead.

He couldn't help but smile at the thought, and he turned away from her before it found his face. Better not to have to answer the question that it might prompt. He'll tell her tomorrow.

If there is a tomorrow.

Together their horses moved as if they knew their destination, as if they'd made this trip hundreds of times before and were simply ferrying the latest to their final stop. Charon with hooves. They stopped in front of what seemed to be the largest building in town, in that it had a second floor on it, and took a moment to secure their horses to the post. They could send them on their way, of course, make them run on into the nothinginess beyond in the vain hope that they'd act as a decoy and send their pursuers along after them, but both horses had done their best to facilitate their escape and they couldn't leave carrying their unnecessary suffering on their conscience. Let them rest.

Once his horse was secured he removed a saddlebag and slung it over his shoulder, listening to the coins clink together inside. Fighting the urge to step towards the back of the horse so he could look at the horizon - a pointless waste of time, they'd still be there - he instead moved around the post and stepped up onto the uneven boards that made up the porch of what seemed to be one of very few business establishments in town. Pausing, he waited for her to join him and they walked inside together without a word passing between them; as was so often the case, nothing need be said for them to move together.

Three people were inside the large main room of the building, though only two seemed to be conscious. The third lay with his head on the bar, snoring softly with his hand still closed around a glass. The other two, presumably the owner and another man who sat at the other end of the bar, appeared to be watching the sleeping man and waiting for him to fall off his stool. Both seemed surprised at their sudden intrusion, the man behind the bar casting an awkward glance down at the sleeping man as if he was unsure how to react to being caught in the midst of their game. Neither of the new arrivals cared.

Together they walked to the bar and filled in the space between conscious and unconscious, and at his side she turned and leaned back against the bar, her elbows resting on the top. Her appearance was casual, relaxed, and that was purely due to how many times they had repeated this same thing, together covering all their angles. No one caught them by surprise. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the upright man at the end of the bar sweep his eyes across her body, and he felt an unexpected surge of jealousy rise in his throat. He was not the first man to look at her, not by a long shot, and a part of him couldn't help but to enjoy their looks as she climbed the stairs with him to the room they shared in those random towns; perhaps knowing it was the last time she'd follow him up those stairs made him feel more possessive. He wanted to put a bullet between the man's eyes, but instead he swallowed the urge and focused instead on the proprietor that approached him.

"Room for the night?" he asked, his left hand withdrawing coins from his pocket, "And would you have the horses outside taken care of?"

"No plumbin'," the man replied, as if there were many options to choose from here, "But I kin bring up wat'r for ya'two if ya like."

"Yes, thank you," he said, placing the coins on the bar and shifting the pack on his shoulder carefully so as not to move the contents within, "Food and drink would not go amiss either."

Beside him, dark and thoughtful eyes scanned the mostly empty room endlessly, as if it was full of people and any of them could be a threat. She'd never let him say it, but the truth was that she was the reason he made it this far at all. More than just a nice set of eyes (among other things), she was careful and observant and a better shot than you would ever think looking at her. The first thing that registered on the face of most that she had put down was not pain or fear or anger, but surprise: no one expected the pretty woman with the waves of dark hair tied behind her back to be the one pulling the trigger.

"Top o' the stairs," the man behind the bar said with a nod towards the stairs on the far side of the room, "Pick either, theys both 'em are empty." The coins were swept off the bar and disappeared into his pocket, and he moved away to collect water for them. With arrangements made she straightened from the bar and moved towards the stairs, but he hesitated a moment and watched the eyes of the man who had not touched his drink since they walked in. They were affixed firmly to her ass as she moved until something in him realized she was the only one to move away from the bar, and his face flushed crimson upon realizing his wandering eyes had been caught. Extending a finger to the brim of his hat, the man was given a nod - less in greeting than acknowledgment that he had, indeed, been caught.

"Evenin'," he said with a hint of a grin, and then he turned away from the bar and followed her to the stairs, and this time his eyes were the ones on her ass.
 
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