[Natasha murmurs in approval, her eyes moving over his chest, lingering on the tattoo briefly before she reaches out to smooth her hands over the skin. Yeah, this will definitely do.
Her touch doesn't last long, though, not for the moment as she raises her arms so he can pull her shirt up.
Underneath, she's wearing a sensible bra—better for working our than showing off. Losing her shirt also reveals more than a few scars, including at least two bullet wounds, long healed, with both entrance and exit wounds. She's also slim and muscled, with soft curves. It's the body of a dancer.
Then she's free of her shirt, and she's hooking her hand in the front of his pants to pull him closer.]
Does that mean anything?
[Glancing at the tattoo again as she guides him near.]
[ She's lovely, really; Dean's not without marks himself, though he's lucky in that when he was dragged out of hell, all those hellhound slashes and previous scars and badly healed broken fingers -- good as new.
Thanks Cas.
He admires her for a moment before being pulled near, though he flicks his eyes down at the tattoo. Usually, he lies. No one would ever believe what it's really for back home (except Lisa, but we don't talk about Lisa), so it's easier just to make something up. A drunken dare, something like that.
Instead-- ]
It's an anti-possession symbol. Stops demons from slipping in and using me as a meat puppet.
[Natasha doesn't even look surprised. She hasn't dealt with demons, but if magic is real and aliens and all the other nonsense she's seen, why not those too.]
That would really put a damper on the mood.
[She doesn't ask if he thinks it's likely to happen here, without the tattoo.
Her attention moves to his scars, his collarbone, his throat, and she steps into him, kissing his chest above the tattoo. Then his shoulder. She closes her eyes and breathes in deeply.
No damper on the mood now.
She pops the button on his jeans, her thumb brushing over his zipper to feel him through his jeans—and oh, she can feel him. Hot and hardening, stirring under her touch.]
[It's not always the case. Not either way, she's sure.
But clearly that's not a problem here. The touch along her scar makes her shiver, putting the hair up on the back of her neck, making her whole body feel sensitive. Alive.]
Only ones I'm interested in.
[Currently, her interest seems to be getting him out of his pants, fingers deft on his belt buckle as she undoes it and pulls it loose.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
action; cw for consensual adult sex and things
Much better.
[Natasha murmurs in approval, her eyes moving over his chest, lingering on the tattoo briefly before she reaches out to smooth her hands over the skin. Yeah, this will definitely do.
Her touch doesn't last long, though, not for the moment as she raises her arms so he can pull her shirt up.
Underneath, she's wearing a sensible bra—better for working our than showing off. Losing her shirt also reveals more than a few scars, including at least two bullet wounds, long healed, with both entrance and exit wounds. She's also slim and muscled, with soft curves. It's the body of a dancer.
Then she's free of her shirt, and she's hooking her hand in the front of his pants to pull him closer.]
Does that mean anything?
[Glancing at the tattoo again as she guides him near.]
gettin all steamy
Thanks Cas.
He admires her for a moment before being pulled near, though he flicks his eyes down at the tattoo. Usually, he lies. No one would ever believe what it's really for back home (except Lisa, but we don't talk about Lisa), so it's easier just to make something up. A drunken dare, something like that.
Instead-- ]
It's an anti-possession symbol. Stops demons from slipping in and using me as a meat puppet.
no subject
That would really put a damper on the mood.
[She doesn't ask if he thinks it's likely to happen here, without the tattoo.
Her attention moves to his scars, his collarbone, his throat, and she steps into him, kissing his chest above the tattoo. Then his shoulder. She closes her eyes and breathes in deeply.
No damper on the mood now.
She pops the button on his jeans, her thumb brushing over his zipper to feel him through his jeans—and oh, she can feel him. Hot and hardening, stirring under her touch.]
Are demons how you got the scars?
no subject
[ His fingers find her lower back, walking up her spine, light and gentle. ]
Some, yeah. Wendigos, strigas, shifters, vampires...all of the above.
no subject
[Not that she'd trade it for vampires or demons. That sounds like swapping one headache for another.
And probably not an especially long life expectancy for either.
Still the idea gets a little bit of a smile out of her, especially as she explores the scars with her fingers, enjoying the sight of him.]
Luckily, chicks really do dig scars.
no subject
[ Hard to worry too much when he knows he probably has Hell waiting on him back home, but that's not something he's going to think about right now.
His fingers trace down over old bullet wounds, tipping his head a little with a grin. ]
So do dudes.
no subject
[It's not always the case. Not either way, she's sure.
But clearly that's not a problem here. The touch along her scar makes her shiver, putting the hair up on the back of her neck, making her whole body feel sensitive. Alive.]
Only ones I'm interested in.
[Currently, her interest seems to be getting him out of his pants, fingers deft on his belt buckle as she undoes it and pulls it loose.]