Vertigo (VivifiedVanityxSeven)

RE: Vertigo

Lisa's hand shifted, twisted, pushed beneath his and held the handle to prevent him from touching it; her hand went to his chest and there was a dull ache from the gunshot wounds, but it was overshadowed by some other strange ache that was lurking deeper. She was annoyed and it was showing now, coming through in spiteful words, throwing his own actions back at him. She wanted him to step back, to acquiesce and to sit back down and wait for everything to heal before he went anywhere - and he knew it wasn't unreasonable, not for her - but for him, it felt like an impossibility.

He needed to leave the hotel room; the hand on his skin felt like it was burning him.

His jaw clenched, muscles working visibly just below high cheekbones; he stepped in closer, so close that their chests nearly touched, his voice low, the dead calm before a storm,

"I will grant that you've read enough Dr. Phil books to be able to handle yourself in high-stress situations, but let's not forget something here, Leese, there are certain things you can't learn from a self-help book, so when you step out of this hotel alone and armed with the knowledge of how breathe deep when you're upset, it's not going to be very helpful if Malevre's hand is holding your windpipe closed," Jackson said; his eyes flicked over Lisa, taking in her features,

"Courtesy of that strategically-placed mirror, I've had no choice but to look at myself, and while I might need a shave and a couple of drug-free coffees, I'm exactly the same as I was before - neither of us are stupid, you know what I am and what I do."

He moved her hand from his chest,

"Stop touching me, Lisa, and get out of the way."
 
RE: Vertigo

Lisa held his gaze without flinching, and she didn't shrink away when he stepped towards her, bringing their proximity even closer as a familiar feeling fluttered to life in the pit of her stomach. She was once more where she had been when she'd woken up this morning to his head on her stomach and the feeling of the fuzz that covered his lower jaw tickling against her skin. Only this time it didn't register on her face, nor did the fact that his scent had washed over her when he'd stepped closer, nor that the slow blink she'd just made coupled with a soft inhale was her breathing in that scent... It shouldn't have been comforting. Not in this situation or in any other, but just as it was comforting... at the same time it was disquieting. He was reminding her again of what she'd done in that emotionless voice he had -- that subtle jab, intentional or otherwise... twisting that knife... And she looked away at that, across the room, her eyes angry, even angrier as he told her -- for a second time -- to stop touching him. But she sealed that emotion up, pressing her lips closed along with her eyes. She let her hand fall to her side, moved by his own.

That was the problem, wasn't it...? Who he was and what he did. Why she should have just let him walk out the door, do whatever it was he wanted to do -- why she shouldn't have cared. Why she shouldn't have fussed over him as she had or as she intended to keep doing... and why the feel of his warmth shouldn't have been so inviting.

He deserved everything he'd been given according to any sense of the word karma, probably even worse than what he was being given... But some part of her wanted to push past all of that, to wrap her arms around what was left, and keep it warm and safe against her... and that thought scared her more than the man in front of her...

"That's not an answer to anything," She bristled as she turned back to him, "and no, I've not forgotten any of that. Not who you are, not what you do, not what you know, and not what you've done... I've also not forgotten what's going on around us and why we're here..." She took a breath, settling herself and unintentionally breathing more of him in. "Why do you think I don't want to carry that damned knife? Because I know that I'm completely inept with what we're dealing with. Armed. Unarmed. Whatever weapon I step out of this room with isn't going to protect me, it's essentially going to be me handing whoever a means to kill me."

"You don't need to waste your time trying to impress that upon me -- I know what's out there, Jack, and it scares me... I'm frightened, and I can't handle what's out there alone." Her words sounded almost contradictory with her tone, her voice a cold hiss. "And you freaking out like this -- demanding just to leave for no apparent reason when someone in your condition shouldn't be on his feet at all isn't something that's exactly helpful to either of us," He wasn't going to harm her, she seemed to know this now.

If he was going to do anything to her, he wouldn't have been standing there telling her to move. They both knew what he had done.

The dance around her childhood bedroom with the hockey stick came to her mind... a flight of stairs... the airplane lavatory... Him tearing down a door to get at her... Her head tilted forward slightly as her slender brows lifted -- ignoring the proximity he'd instilled, and she showing him she wasn't afraid of it, "I'm not moving," the three words were drawn out, each one spoken clearly, her eyes challenging, "and you're not leaving." Frustration towards the man in front of her bubbled to the surface, and her hand found his upper arm; she tried to both push him away and turn him away all in one, "Go sit, stand, play with your knives, pace the room even... but I am not letting you through this door," if he didn't want touched he shouldn't have gotten so close.
 
RE: Vertigo

Lisa's frustration and anger was showing through now, showing in the way her brows were tensing, the way she cocked her head back to meet his eyes - everything about her body language screamed of challenge, a proclamation that she wasn't about to step back, that she wouldn't back down or move - even as she admitted to being frightened.

And for that reason, it made the situation even more uncomfortable, yet again throwing a harsh light on the fact that she was like no other, a fact that he tried not to think about too much, but once in a while the thought surfaced, unbidden, and he would find himself examining the facets of the rare creation that was Lisa Reisert. Her rage was understated, her passive defenses were overstated, and her willpower might very well have driven him up the wall if she had been anyone else.

"This isn't freaking out, Leese," Jackson replied, voice remaining in that state of dead calm, "This is me placidly trying to walk ou--"

He stopped mid-speech when her hands took hold of his arms, coupled with her frustrated tone, the closeness of her body, and the smell of her hair, Jackson reacted before he could think; his hands snapped up and took hold of her little wrists and he forced them back against the door, up over her head, almost completely closing the distance between them, so close that their noses brushed together. For an instant, Jackson was frozen that way, blue eyes flicking briefly down to her mouth, then back up to meet her gaze again.

And then his mind caught up with his reflexes and he dropped his eyes away from her, releasing her wrists and moving his hands back to his sides, his fingers curling in against his palms,

"I need to step out of this room." Jackson repeated, his tone changing to something a little quieter; he took a step back, giving her the space to move, though his entire body remained visibly tense, shoulders squared, "And you need to stop touching me."
 
RE: Vertigo

And there it was. The aggression she knew, and it exploded suddenly. She flinched visibly, her eyes closing as she sucked in her breath; the backs of her hands brushed the door behind her as her arms were forced up over her head, her back arching with the position... and then there was a pause. Her eyes opened, and she knew they were close because she could feel the rise and fall of his own chest pressed against hers, but she didn't see what she expected to see... His eyes, those blue pools weren't looking to her own eyes, they were looking down towards her lips, and they were filled with something that didn't match the icy temper she'd expected to find there... Her own temper flooded away from her, leaving her with nothing; no dizzying thoughts about what had just happened, no trying to reason out what happened... and no aversion to it. No negativity... no... this shouldn't be happening. No, that shouldn't have happened... And no 'I should just let him leave...'

Blues flicked back up to her hazels, and she watched him collect himself. She felt his hands leave her wrists, and her own arms hung there over her head for a minute while some strange sort of shock still crippling her. This was the 'why' behind his wanting to leave... and this was why... Since the first night...?

His warmth faded noticeably as he stepped away from her, and her arms lowered to her sides with that disappearance. His scent too... Eyes that had been gazing absently away from him flicked to him; his tone of voice was different... from something almost dangerous... to something... Something... pleading?

It was in the silent parting of her lips, in with in her eyes -- wide and almost attentive as they were... It was in how she hadn't quite straightened herself out from how he'd left her. She understood, and she was processing it... It started slowly, she shaking her head -- her eyes had turned away from him, they flickering side-to-side as if reading something. She didn't want him to leave. She'd managed to process the situation along that far, and then she'd stopped... caught on that thought, and she found herself coming back to it as the answer for everything... The problem was what to do with that answer; she should have resolved to just let him leave. It would have been simpler.

Lisa shook her head with more conviction this time, and she pushed herself away from the door tentatively so she could take a step up to him. She hesitated at first, not quite breathing as she tilted her head up enough so that their cheeks touched -- a gentle brush, "You don't have to leave..." Her forehead pressed to his temple as her head turned, eyes closing, nose grazing his cheek, "And I... don't want to stop touching you." Her words were whispered at best, her breath felt against his lips while her fingertips found his hands and trailed up his arms. They stopped at his elbows, curling in the sleeves of his shirt a little ways as she pulled his arms towards her.

It was a touch, the slightest bit of pressure of her lips against his; not quite a kiss, but nothing accidental.
 
RE: Vertigo

The gentle but insistent shake of Lisa Reisert's head indicated that she had realized what had just happened - and Jackson wished he could attribute it to instincts, to just being a man reacting to spending too much time close to a female body. He wished he could tell her it was only because there had been too much contact and it was just biology that made him interested, that it was nothing personal, that it could have been any woman in that room with him and he would have done the same thing.

But it wouldn't have been true.

And at that juncture, even if it was in his nature to lie, she likely wouldn't have believed him, because he had done everything in his power to avoid the topic, and if it had just been physical, he wouldn't have felt the driving need to get away from her. He had wanted to avoid this, and for the second time that day, he felt aggravated with himself for his mistakes, for slipping up so obviously, for being exposed enough to be drugged twice, and now for being obvious enough to let this happen, it was unprofessional.

And it was pathetic.

His jaw was held tightly as he waited for Lisa to step aside, but that wasn't what she did - instead, she did what he was sure was the worst thing she could have chosen to do and she stepped towards him; he felt her face brush against his and for the first time in a very, very long time, Jackson Rippner felt his heart rate increase. His eyes snapped upwards, head shifting as he looked at her, finding her close in a way that suddenly seemed unbearable, like he would have to carve her out of his skin if he wanted her gone.

Her words registered and Jackson's expression remained cold and guarded as he met her eyes; her found feel her hands crawling up his arms, her fingers twisting into his shirt.

He wanted to accuse her of insanity, to tell her that she had lost it at some point during their stay, maybe he had headbutted her too hard - because it felt like she was forgetting what he was, despite the fact he had cruelly reminded her only moments ago. Despite the fact he had continued to remind her in the hopes she would be repulsed enough to stop touching him.

Their lips brushed together; she was soft and warm; Jackson's hands twitched at his sides; he shifted, enough that their lips brushed along eachother's, the softness of his facial hair following after and grazing her mouth as he leaned in enough to bring his mouth to her ear, voice low,

"This is going to be the last chance you get." Jackson warned; one of his hands hung in the air, hovering near her hip, fingers curled inwards as though just stopping himself.
 
RE: Vertigo

They shouldn't be doing this. She knew that, and before they'd found themselves locked in their tiny prison of a room, she probably wouldn't have... That was the reason her approach had been somewhat hesitant, and why the reason for his wanting to leave had hit her so suddenly when she finally understood -- she hadn't factored something like this in... They shouldn't... but they were...

Lisa sounded once at what he'd said, her head turning towards him somewhat even as he moved -- following after. Fingers released the sleeves of his shirt and continued their progress up his arms a little less tentatively than before. She'd suppressed a shiver at his voice touching her ear and the feel of that soft fluff against her face. Her head tilted downwards, and she nuzzled him slightly, urging his own head back a little ways so as her lips could find his neck. "I've been warned enough, Jack..." She whispered against it before kissing it once. Her arms found their way over his shoulders and her right hand found its familiar place with fingers tickling through his hair. Lisa's left hand touched to the side of his face, her fingers trickling their way over his ear while her thumb brushed through the fluff that covered that jaw.

"Please..." Her head tilted again, and offered a kiss to his jaw, it just as soft as the first.
 
RE: Vertigo

Hands were moving up his arms, along his shoulders; through the material of his shirt, he could feel each individual digit and the warmth of them carding through his hair; as Lisa spoke, Jackson came to the realization that short of knocking her out a second time, there was nothing that would deter Lisa Reisert from the course she was on - and while some part of Jackson was sure this shouldn't be happening, that this would complicate things -

- well, her mouth was at his throat.

He had no defense for that.

A rush of heat passed up his spine and Jackson's hands were on Lisa's hips, they slid up her waist, feeling the curve of her body as it met with her lower ribcage, the material of her shirt folding under his hand, the hem pulling slightly up, enough to reveal a strip of pale skin. Jackson moved one arm up to curl around her, his injured hand settling at her shoulderblade while the other one slid up the back of her shirt, fingertips trailing up her bare skin and his hand settling flat againt the middle of her back, fingers splayed out and spanning her skin.

He secured his arms around her, stepped in close and walked her back against the door again, their bodies pressed flush before he claimed her mouth, a kiss that was hardly gentle, but was short of being rough, a controlled burn.
 
RE: Vertigo

Eyes were kept closed while his hands trailed, she kissing the side of his face again; it was the hitch of her breath that was the only outward response to feeling his hand as it found her skin. The hitch was followed by a deep inhale -- his scent being taken in -- her arms comfortably wrapping over his shoulders as she was walked backwards. And then his lips found hers; it wasn't the slow, gentle kiss she'd expected, but something else altogether... And she didn't shy away from it. Her lips pressed back against his; tasting him and feeding off of his intensity. She didn't shy away from his touch either, and instead pressed herself against the length of him; inviting him... It had been over two years since she'd had anyone this close to her -- since she'd been in this sort of position... While it should have unnerved her that he knew that side of her, she found it was oddly reassuring. They didn't need to discuss it. He knew her secret. Jackson Rippner... The man she shouldn't have been doing this with -- the man who shouldn't have smelled so good to her, who shouldn't have been so invitingly warm... who shouldn't have tasted so suddenly addictive...

Her lips pulled away from his only at length -- she was breathing heavy due to a nervous sort of excitement, and one of her hands massaged at the back of his neck, "Be careful with yourself..." He was still in bandages, after all... Her body moved further away from the door, sinking against him instead; sinking against what she shouldn't have felt any sort of safety from and finding comfort there.

Complicated. They were going for complicated. The intensity of his kiss had told her that.

Her lips returned to his, parting slightly, her teeth catching his lower lip gently -- only once before softness returned to it. One of her knees moved up the inside of his leg instead of what probably should have been the outside, and her skirt hitched slightly with the movement, allowing her partially bare thigh to eventually find his still fabric-covered one. It continued upwards a little ways, offering a very careful sort of knead to that sensitive organ between his legs in a less obtrusive way than a hand.
 
RE: Vertigo

It had been a while.

Jackson was no stranger to sex, in fact, it was one of the few indulgences he allowed himself, and while his social interaction tended to be limited to the conversations he had on the job, it had never been difficult for him to pick up a girl for a one-night stand. And even then, it was never just about getting off, Jackson enjoyed sex for everything it involved, the raw energy of it, the sensation, the smell of a woman - but it wasn't the sort of thing he could properly articulate, even now.

Sex, Jackson had long ago decided, was something he could definitively say he enjoyed, and during those occasions he would seek out the physicality, it never ended quickly - like everything Rippner invested himself in, he did it for the long-haul. Even one-night stands took all night, and why shouldn't they?

But even with all of that in mind, he was uncomfortably aware that this was - different. Lisa wasn't a woman he had picked up in a bar, some girl who only had a first name, who he would part ways with and never see again - he was going to wake up the next day and they would still be sharing the same motel room with eachother, they would be travelling with eachother for however long this took. On top of that, they had already seen eachother at their worst. It was - strange.

And as Lisa's thigh moved between his legs, Jackson recognized exactly how vulnerable he would be - sex made people stupid. Sex exposed people.

His eyes fell closed for an instant and his bandaged hand found its way to her thigh, fingers splaying out on her bare skin as she moved her leg against him; he took in a small, sharp breath before he slid his hand along her outer thigh, beneath the material of her skirt, just up until it reached the edge of her panties, fingertips sliding just beneath it. He dropped his head down, bringing his mouth to her throat while the hand on her back slid up to the back of her neck. He mouthed at her throat, breath hot on her pulse before he used his teeth, nipping at her skin with surprising gentleness before trailing his lips down the cord of muscle that led to the juncture between neck and shoulder.
 
RE: Vertigo

When that tiny reaction from him was felt against her lips, Lisa smiled, the expression small but honest as it curled. Her hips pressed upward when his hand found the outside of her thigh, and her head thudded gently back against the door when his head dropped, his soft lips kissing against her neck. It was his teeth against her skin that brought the first sound from her, a soft, shrill intake of air. However she'd expected this to play out -- however skilled or unskilled she thought he would be... She almost didn't expect this sort of intensity from him. Not so suddenly at any rate... The hand sliding beneath her shirt lifted it more so, exposing part of her back and a section of her stomach which teased against his own; the caress of skin on skin as she moved slightly, relishing that subtle sensation. Her hand worked its way from the back of his neck back to his hair, fingers kneading slowly, applying a slight bit of pressure as they worked their way upwards; once she felt the strands of his hair, her fingers curled towards her palm and worked themselves in slow circles against his scalp -- she was careful of her nails, but used them just the same, trading off sensations from the soft pads of her fingers to those well-rounded edges. Her thigh continued to work against him, undaunted by where his hand had ventured to, pausing only once as fingertips slipped.

A hand dropped, covering his hand on her thigh, a sudden action that would have been viewed as her trying to halt his progress if not for how the pads of her fingers moved along the back of that hand. It explored the grooves made by his knuckles, tickled against the soft flesh covering the back of his hand, studied the delicate bones of his wrist as it moved -- her lips explored to, her head dropping forward so as they could find the very edge of his jaw before stilling. She inhaled him, deeply, nuzzling the side of his neck, and she took a moment before exhaling that scent, wanting to keep it as close to herself as he was to her right then.
 
RE: Vertigo

Jackson's mind worked - differently. Most people went through their day without truly observing the world around them, but Jackson had made it his job to absorb details, sort them, and arrange them in a way that he could utilize them in the future - and as cold and calculating as it sounded, he was doing the same thing as his mouth and his hands explored Lisa. Without thinking to, he began to categorize and memorize her reactions, a shift of the hips at the feathering touch of fingers over her thigh, the way her head fell back when his lips brushed along her neck - and the more obvious gasp when his teeth found her skin. Teeth. Lisa liked the use of teeth.

He felt her hand on his thigh and for an instant he thought she was asking him to stop, halting his movements - but no, her fingers were touching along his wrist and his broken, calloused knuckles, her mouth was at his jaw, and she audibly took in his scent, and Jackson couldn't help but notice the parallel when he had done the same thing not so very long ago.

Lisa's leg moved against him again; there was no hiding the fact that he was effected by her movements, no plain expression could keep her from noticing what was pressing against her thigh, but he moved his hand down her leg, just to above her knee, moving himself to get away from the way she was shifting her lean limb against him, instead holding it up, bent, and shifting close, moving his hand along her inner thigh, trailing his fingers up until they came close to her heat, but never went beyond, his fingertips feathering painfully close, feeling the softness of her skin. He moved his other hand down her back, following the curve of her spine with the fingers that could feel, the roughness of his thin cast trailing along for the ride.

Some part of Jackson's mind put forth a simple statement:

This is insane.

And he didn't disagree with it.

But it also didn't stop his hand from moving away from her back, around to her stomach, feeling the firmness of the underlying muscle built from her morning runs, and the softness of her pale skin. Jackson's eyes dropped to watch his hand move along her torso, bringing the hand from her leg to assist with the motion, dragging the hem of her shirt upwards, eyes flicking up to meet hers.
 
RE: Vertigo

Her exhale was soft and sudden as his fingers teased dangerously close to that heat between her thighs, and her fingers clenched gently at him. He'd moved her thigh away from him, but not before she'd felt what she'd been doing to him. It thrilled her, knowing that he wanted her -- knowing what she was doing to him, knowing that he wanted her just as much as she'd realized she wanted him... and then his hands were moving again; her fingers released him, finding their way back down his arms a little ways from where they'd settled on his sharp shoulders... to her own lean torso. Further down to his hands they sought, rubbing against his digits as they worked her skirt upwards. Her panties were black... matching her bra... which matched the dark hue of her shirt. For the first time in a long time, Lisa was happy she held herself to those small little nuances women did. A light flush covered her face, brought on not by embarrassment, but the act of what they were doing -- what they would eventually be doing.

It was only her breathing that was somewhat tense, nervous even, but heady as it slipped by gently parted lips. Her eyes met his when his flicked upward; she wanted this, it was clear from those hazel pools... but she was having the same thought as him. We should stop. We should both go about our merry ways and pretend this never happened... But they weren't going to. The ache between her thighs told her that she wasn't about to try and make them, and the look in his eyes seemed to tell her that he felt the same way... Holding his gaze, her eyes seemed to search his for an answer even as her knee dropped slowly back to the floor and shifted position, finding the outside of his leg this time. Digits moved up his forearms, stumbling over bandages, his small cast, and his sleeves before reaching for him.

Her left tickled against the bare skin of his stomach, fingers teasing their way into the waist of his pants while her leg worked its way up the outside of his. She pulled him towards her gently, her other hand having found its way to the back of his head. Her eyes closed, giving up on puzzling out what lurked behind his eyes.

Someday... she would figure it out. Pressing her forehead to his, she seemed to find a pause as her inner thigh brushed just below his hip; it was her heat she was teasing against him, and it was his excitement she was teasing against herself.

"I might fall for you a little bit after this..." She murmured, against his lips, "When I shouldn't... I know I shouldn't..." Jackson was the sort of man she couldn't exactly take home to introduce to her father... Her lips pressed to his, lips parting slightly, her tongue flicking across the lower one, and her hands touched over his bandaged chest, being careful of his injuries... Little feathers, caressing and studying over the scars she'd only looked at until now. She could feel his ribs too, muscles rippling slightly as he moved, the bumps of his spine as her hands found their way to his back. His shirt, unbuttoned as it was, didn't hinder the exploration of her hands, and quite the opposite, that fabric teased over the backs of her arms and her little knuckles, its hem even kissing against her knee.

Some time after this... after they'd both settled down and finished... whatever this was... She had to get something solid in him.
 
RE: Vertigo

The subtle twitches of Lisa's body might as well have been neon signs; her hands jumped and skipped over his arms and fingers, moved up to his chest and grazed his torso - she had touched him before, but the context had been different, a platonic contact when she was repairing him. This was something else entirely; as her digits trailed over his stomach and up his chest, he felt a trail of heat follow her touch, twitching very slightly as she touched at a spot just below his ribcage.

She took hold of the waist of his slacks and pulled him closer; he didn't resist, but the movement brought their hips into alignment and he could feel the warmth of her, even through the cloth barriers and he supressed a shudder. His hands continued en route up her sides, moving over her ribs and stopping just at the bottom edge of her bra, thumbs moving over the material. His eyes met hers when she spoke and Jackson felt a wave of something strange pass through him, something that was warm and not unpleasant, but he found he couldn't properly identify it, nor could he find the words to respond - instead he pressed forward into a firm kiss, sucking gently on her top lip for a moment, then her bottom, and pressing his tongue into her mouth, brief but thorough.

And then he was dropping his kisses down again, down her chin, her neck, and then he was pushing her shirt up enough that he could kiss her sternum, just above and between the swells of her breasts, his breath warm against her skin.
 
RE: Vertigo

There were those eyes again, and this time they weren't filled with the familiarity of the unfeeling gaze she'd come to know him for... They hadn't been since they'd started this endeavour... Passion. An almost frightening amount when coupled with the gentleness of those hands of his, with how attentive he seemed to be with her, zeroed in, like the rest of the world had very nearly melted away all except for him, her... the door she was pressed against, and what they were doing against it... There had been a pause when his eyes found hers, brief, tempting her into thinking he was actually going to say something -- the first real sound from him since they'd started down this course... but instead his lips pressed against hers. Those warm, supple lips... and eventually his tongue, which hers greeted, wrestling against, tasting, intensifying that maddening ache between her thighs with its play... And then those lips of his were moving onward -- downward -- when she'd wanted them to stay... His hips inadvertently doing the same, moving away from hers when that gentle press was serving to quell the need she'd had pressed against him.

He was doing everything but touching her where she most wanted him to, and a shaky breath escaped her, her teeth finding her lower lip when he pushed her shirt up -- the reveal of flesh strangely unobtrusive despite what it was for... His lips discovered that flesh, and the softness of his hair tickled above the warmth of his lips while his facial hair offered a different sensation below it... His hair... She'd offered to trim it for him... Or maybe she'd only thought about it.

He wasn't allowed to look as unintentionally attractive as he was right now... And then there was his silence...

Any other time she would have pressed him to say something -- even his single word answers. Blunt and to the point... Something, anything... but for this... She was being given nothing but the silence of the room to listen to, disturbed only by the sounds the door made with their activity against it, the sound of fabric on fabric, the almost-sound of skin against skin, their lips, kissing, tasting, and their breathing slightly quickened... It was just the two of them, alone in that little room, and in a very short amount of time that room had seemed to get all the smaller.

The inside of her thigh had felt the waist of his pants move against it, disappearing to be replaced with the surprising softness of his flesh, and that thigh now rubbed against what it had been offered. Lisa's eyes closed and her back arched up, away from the unforgiving door in an almost feline gesture, answering the call of his lips and the sensation of his breath as it warmed her exposed skin. Her fingers stumbled over her own body, seeking his hands, those digits lacing with his where he'd left them at the edge of her lifted shirt... and guiding them to where she wanted them... over those modest swells... kneading... slow circles... The supple flesh beneath the bra that separated her breasts from that touch responding more quickly than she would have liked even though his touch had been guided by her own. She also didn't like how quickly she was responding to all of this, to him, dizzy from what he was doing to her, she still somewhat confused by all of this as she'd never quite finished sorting it all out. But once he'd made it clear what'd he'd been talking about, simply shoving him out the door and pretending it wasn't there wasn't an option...

Her scar was partially visible from how he'd lifted that shirt, something accidental, and something that... while she was painfully aware of that fact that it was exposed to a degree... she didn't shy away from him because of it. He knew about it. She hadn't shown him; instead, he'd found it... Found a piece of her she never told anyone -- let alone showed them. It was something she'd once loathed him for, but it saved her from questions now, it saved her from needing to explain... and it saved him from needing to ask.
 
RE: Vertigo

Lisa's scar came as no surprise to him just as his scars wouldn't shock her - both of them were aware of the violence in eachother's lives, though his was more obvious, a life of brutality while hers was meant to be - average. Perfectly calm and average, but she had still suffered at the hands of a sadist, another statistic in a crime that would occur every single day, an unfortunate reality where stepping out the door each day was like spinning the barrel of a gun and hoping you got the empty chamber each time.

There were many reasons that Jackson Rippner would never function in normal society - but the most glaring one was the fact he knew what it all looked like underneath, when you dusted off the niceties.

But at least there were some things that he could still connect with - and the form of communication that he and Lisa were engaging in was one he was much more articulate in. Here, he could understand her responses without question.

She gripped his wrists and guided his hands to her breasts and Jackson responded instantly, his palms pressing to the soft flesh, his thumbs edging down the material of the bra enough that the pads of his digits could brush against the sensitive pink aereolas underneath, his lips grazing along the tops of her breasts, almost tickling with his facial hair. A moment later, and his hands were tugging her sweater off, pulling her t-shirt off entirely and not even giving her the chance to do it herself, lifting it up over her head, down her arms and discarding the clothes off to the side. He paused for only an instant before his hands slid down her arms, his unbroken one taking a firm hold of her wrist and insisting her along, striding towards the bed, glancing back at her only once with a look of intent.
 
RE: Vertigo

Lisa sounded softly at what his fingers were doing; the sound edged on being just a gasp, but its pitch made it a bit more than a mere intake of breath. Her breathing too intensified, deepening, arms lifting over her head as her own fingers nudged into the boring design on the door behind her to hold herself steady. It was when his lips grazed that her breath because a soft shudder, only once, and when he went about removing her sweater and shirt, she went along with it, revelling in the brief lull that happened after. Her eyes found his face while his touch trailed down her bare arms, an almost cooled gesture compared to what had been happening moments before -- if not for how her skin heated at the contact. The bed... he wanted her on the bed... Lisa followed along almost dumbly, and she missed his eyes when he looked back because of where hers were trained. In the few steps that it took for them to near that suddenly inviting piece of furniture she came out of her daze, her hazels flicking up to him. She didn't shrug off his hand on her wrist, but instead used her other hand in its stead, that limb searching out his hip to urge him to turn to face her.

It slid slowly up his torso, eventually reaching his shoulder... Maybe if he'd been further along in his mending, maybe if she wasn't still trying to shake off a bit of her daze... and maybe if she wasn't still so worried about what could happen with his injuries if she wasn't careful enough with him, her push would have been enough to drop him off his feet and onto the bed... But she was painfully aware of all of those things, and so the pressure behind her hand was more of an instruction at best... Sit.

Lisa's knees found the bed on either side of him, and she was careful of his thigh when she eventually teased herself against his arousal.

The hand that had been on his shoulder lifted, brushing once, lovingly through his hair before fingers curled, forcing his head back in a movement that somehow managed not to be rough, and soft lips touched to his throat above his bandages. Fingers released his hair and her other hand came up, both touching to the side of his neck as she offered one single kiss to the centre of that gauze... firm enough that the pressure of her lips could be felt gently, before her hands slid away from his neck and along his shoulders. They hooked in the neck of his shirt, pushing it back over his shoulders and staying with it as it travelled down his arms... And kept it there when it reached his elbows, pinning his arms to his sides even though it would have been something that was easy to shrug out of.

Her lips has returned to his skin, kissing below the bandages this time, her hair allowed to trickle against what was exposed of his chest and shoulders as she moved her head... The hollow of his throat was found and marked before she worked her way around to the curve of his neck. Tilting her head back, her cheek replaced her lips, brushing along the length of it until she found his own cheek, and she nuzzled it with her own at the same time her body lifted... Her heat rubbed against him, slowly, tantalizingly, and not in a way that would create any sort of usable friction for either of them.

...And with how her lips were suddenly against his ear it was impossible for him not to hear her verbal response to this, a sweet little moan that mixed with the warm breath that covered that ear.
 
RE: Vertigo

Jackson didn't protest as Lisa's hand moved to his chest, pressing him back to sit on the bed; he dropped back onto it and she was climbing on top of him, her every movement careful, and though Lisa wasn't saying it, he knew she was being mindful of his injuries - he might have even protested to it, but his attention was quickly diverted when she pressed her hips down, and even through the material of his slacks and the thin barrier against her body, the heat of her couldn't be ignored.

He moved to touch her, but then her hands were tugging his shirt down, leaving it on him at mid-forearm, enough for it to be rumpled and awkward around his limbs as she kissed across his collarbone, an act that left him immobilized only for an instant while he worked his cast-adorned hand out of the material and pushed it aside, his hands moving to her thighs, sliding up until they were settled on her hips and her skirt was pushed up revealingly, though his fingers continued to linger just near her most sensitive area.

He turned his head to meet her mouth with his, but then her lips were at his ear and she was moaning, rocking her hips against his; Jackson's eyes fluttered in reaction, an audible breath escaping him before his hands slid away from her hips, up her rib cage, and around to her back; his fingers slid to the clasp of her bra and he unhooked it with his thumb and forefinger, hands sliding around to push the straps away from her shoulders. He ducked his head to her neck, testing her skin with his teeth for a second time.
 
RE: Vertigo

Teeth. He was using his teeth again. Her body rose from him slightly as she inhaled sharply, and that breath was but a whisper. One of her hands rubbed at the back of his head, her fingers working through those locks; she didn't pull or hold him against her, she was simply reaching for what was there. It was her other hand that held to him; it had returned to his shoulders, and her thin little fingers clung to him until she settled. Her arms released him, sliding from him so she could shrug out of her bra and drop it onto the floor behind her -- he'd done that without looking at the clasp... The thought was absent, but telling, and not entirely abstract... Either his hands were that dexterous... or he knew his way around women's clothing, which wasn't so farfetched a thought if she took a moment to consider what those hands were doing to her -- or even what the rest of him was doing to her. She wasn't mad or even jealous of the implication of that thought. They were from different worlds, and had led different lives...

Her hips continued to move against his, fuelling that ache between her thighs, and eventually her hands dropped, fingers fumbling with the buttons of her skirt. Her palm found his chin, lifting his head so that her lips could softly press to his; eyes were closed and her kiss was slow, her lips parting, tongue inviting as she slid off of him. Her thumbs hooked the waist of her skirt and panties, pulling both down together so she could step out of them while her forehead kissed against his...

Complicated. She reminded herself. They were going for complicated... and she was alright with that.

She returned to his lap as she had been, only now without anything separating them on her end; she was naked, exposed, and made slightly uncomfortable because of that fact, but she hid it away well enough. Her hips hovered above his, no longer working their way against him, and hands were warm when they touched to his cheeks, tilting his head back, helping her lips find his. The passion behind that kiss seemed to be trying to murmur to him that his pants would be next...
 
RE: Vertigo

Lisa's reaction was dramatic, back arching and her lips parting in a soft gasp that influenced him to leave a mark on her neck, sucking on her pale skin until it left redness that would turn into a dull bruise by the next day, a small mark over her pulse.

Her bra was discarded and Jackson's hands moved to touch the newly-revealed flesh without the barrier of clothing in the way, palms covering part of her breasts while his thumbs stroked across her areolas; he dragged his lips across her chest, facial hair brushing against her skin until her hand came to his chin, pulling his head up, their mouths meeting. He could feel Lisa moving, could feel her shift away from his body enough to remove what remained of her clothing, though she maintained the kiss throughout - and some part of Jackson couldn't help wonder if shyness was fuelling it, as though she was trying to prevent him from witnessing her nudity just yet.

But then she was back on his lap, straddling him, and the warmth was more pronounced; he moved his hands down her back and over her hips, lingering there, fingers stroking her skin for a long moment; he opened his eyes then, but he didn't move them from Lisa's face. Instead, he secured his arms around her, leaning himself back on the bed and pulling her down with him before he rolled them with astounding ease - Lisa was light, easy to move, and once he had her pressed back on the bed, he propped himself up on his elbows, bringing a hand up to move her hair from her face, eyes searching her expression.

He shifted a hand between them then, trailing deft fingertips down over her stomach, over the ridges of her ribs and the dip of her navel, splaying out on her abdomen, his thumb sweeping lightly across her pelvis, almost teasing.
 
RE: Vertigo

Lisa's eyes were closed at first, hands caressing the sides of his face, resisting the need to guide his hands towards what they'd been edging around to an almost maddening degree. And then his arms were around her, they were moving, rolling, he was above her, a slight bit of his weight comforting her as he brushed the hair from her face. Her eyes had closed when he'd leaned back, but now they opened, meeting his with an absence of breath.

He was edging again -- eyes never quite leaving hers; those eyes were maddening with how quickly they were to watch, how they seemed to see through a person without even trying... and even though now they were something quite different than what they usually were -- an entire creature altogether... Those eyes were still very near maddening. And she couldn't quite tell if he hesitant because he was searching her for permission... or if he just wanted to take in her reaction. Her teeth found her lower lip, spine arching away from the bed a little ways; her face was flushed, breathing somewhat shallow, like she was forgetting she had lungs and they needed air... and her hand was reaching for his, pushing those deft fingers further down....

Her thighs tightened on his hips only a little, a squeeze, please... followed by her lips finding the side of his face, his cheek, his jaw, beneath his chin after a bit of nuzzling from her, while her other hand worked gently through his hair.

She'd been memorizing him... a blueprint that was still in progress... The hand that had been begging him left his and turned, the heel of her hand touching to his stomach first before fingers found the waist of his pants; they teased their way beneath it, the pressure they offered only the barest of whispers, following the softness of his skin down a little ways before re-emerging and easing open the button of his pants.
 
RE: Vertigo

Jackson couldn't have denied his desire even if he'd tried and he supposed there was really no disguising it from Lisa at that point, not with her hand grazing along his abdomen, pushing just beyond his slacks and feeling the way his body had reacted to her - and though Jackson wasn't having second thoughts about what was happening, he was finding it difficult to ignore a persistent internal narration.

The logical, fact-based one that told him what they were doing could only have a bad outcome in the long run, the one that told him he had bared his neck too many times already, reminding him that it wasn't during his bouts of fever or intense pain that he was at his weakest - but that it was now when he was the most revealed. It was this thing that was happening between them that was more dangerous than anything they had encountered in the days they had spent together.

This was different.

Lisa knew what he was.

Her hands were flicking open his slacks and Jackson took that moment to finally slide his hand downwards, completing the trek; his fingers brushed along her sex, a light touch as he trailed the calloused pads of his digits along her inner thighs and over her labia, dipping into moisture at the very core of her but not penetrating, dragging the same finger back up to brush against her clit, his touch light. He brought their mouths together again, pressing his tongue into her mouth more intently this time, his broken hand lingering near her hair, working fingers toying almost absently with a lock of it.
 
RE: Vertigo

Lips parted and the rise and fall of Lisa's chest stopped all together, her breath catching audibly as her body tensed. The fingers of her hands curled, the one tangling in his hair -- careful not to pull those beloved locks -- while the other clutched to the front of his pants. His mouth covered hers before she could say anything -- if she was even going to -- and her tongue pressed back eagerly against his. Her brain had turned to mush at his touch.

He was over her, his warmth seeping into her, his scent surrounding her -- he flooding her senses with himself without intending to, and she was drinking him in...

The arch of her ribs kissed up against his skin as her hips lifted slightly, revealing how much she wanted him... and fingers that were still somewhat clumsy with what he was doing to her managed to work his zipper down. And there was absolutely no disguising it from Lisa at this point... She'd felt it even before they'd gotten to this point, brushed against it with her thigh when they were still at the door, felt its dull heat pressing against her own through the fabric that had been between them... and now it was her palm ghosting against the length of him outside of his briefs, the clumsiness of that hand gone. That palm continued upward, touching more firmly to the bare flesh of his stomach as his calloused finger offered a noticeable friction against the smoothness of her...

...That wasn't altogether unpleasant, and she whimpered, the sound losing itself in their kiss. Lisa knew what those callouses were from -- and she knew why he needed those knives, and what he did with them... She needed to erase that thought, forget it had happened, and sort through things after... Her self-help books would be so very proud...

She was trying her very best to remain quiet, and aside from that whimper, she was succeeding; she'd remembered she needed to breathe as soon as the life had returned to her hands, and as she forced their lips to part, that breath coming from her as a needy little pant. Hazels remained closed, parted lips soon brushing against his but not quite kissing; fingers were moving through his hair, inching their way down to the base of his neck and back up again, and her other hand slipped beneath his briefs. He wanted her... as if there was any doubt... It was only the tips of her fingers that she allowed to touch that engorged organ, kissing over the head of it in a lazy circle before brushing their way down its length.

One of her thighs lifted a little ways, rubbing once against his hip, saying a silent this is what I want... at the same time as her fingers were inching back along him towards his tip...
 
RE: Vertigo

Lisa was already adept at verbal communication, a woman who worked on the principle that discussion was key to everything, and it seemed to extend to the physical; as Jackson feathered his fingers over her most sensitive part, Lisa was lifting and rising and pressing against him, slim hips rolling upwards to try and get closer.

Jackson's eyes dropped downwards to observe, taking in an expanse of milky white skin and soft curves, a body that was normally covered in layers of dark, conservative clothing. He found himself committing her to his memory the way he did with everything else, unclear on whether this would occur again.

And then there was her hand; Lisa's fingers worked their way beyond the last barrier of clothing between them and the slim, pale digits brushed up against him. Almost instantly, Jackson tensed - the light touch sent a wave of heat through him, his hips twitched responsively -

- and then he was kissing his way down her neck, over her throat, but unlike the last time, he didn't stop there. As Lisa's fingers began back towards the sensitive tip of his length, he was drawing his body away, downwards as he began to move along her body, kissing down her sternum, over her flat stomach, and along her abdomen. As he reached her hipbone, he nipped lightly at the protrusion and kissed along her inner thigh, his hands trailing along her sides and her hips.

He moved himself back, eyes flicking up to meet Lisa's as his hands went under her legs, gripping her thighs, pulling her towards the edge of the bed as he moved off of it, pausing while he stood just long enough to look her over, his slacks partially undone, hair rumpled from their activities. After a moment, he was dropping down, moving onto his knees on the floor, ignoring the way his thigh stung in protest. There were things in life that were more than worth a little pain - this was one of them.

He ran the scruff of his facial hair along Lisa's right inner thigh, trailing his fingers along the other one before he leaned in and used his tongue to draw a single, teasing line along her sex.
 
RE: Vertigo

He'd responded to her touch, visibly. She'd felt it in the few places their bodies met, and it sent a strange sort of thrill through her... but then he was moving away, his lips trailing down the length of her slowly, and she knew, even as he began drawing that slow line with those lips that this downward progress would be different than before, because he was slipping out of her reach. She inhaled deeply, and a hand brushed along his back as far down as she could reach without her sitting up; she was trying to cling to him, to keep him with her -- but that desperate touch didn't leave a mark on his pale skin, because her fingers never quite curled enough for the rounded edge of her nails to be felt. Lisa remained still, shifting suddenly only at his gentle nip at her hip. He was dragging this out... Why...? And more importantly, why did he feel the need to...? She felt his weight shift on the bed and his hands found her thighs after their slow progresses over her skin; her eyes met his, a flutter of nervousness there before she felt herself being moved. Her hands found his, and she looked away, feeling those horribly clear blue eyes trail over her -- that image of him would be the one that stayed with her, replacing all the others... She knew that even before it had imprinted itself within her memory. A pleasantly ruffled and scruffy Jackson Rippner, who desired her...

And who was no longer something to be afraid of. Wouldn't he just love to know that. Her head remained turned as her eyes closed, hands dropping to the bedding on either side of her as she felt that facial hair contrasting to the sensation his fingers delivered to her opposing thigh. Jackson was drawing this out, and with him very nearly out of reach for any manner of holding on to him that would possibly have settled her...

Fingers twisted in the sheet near the edge of the bed at that suddenly sharp-warmth of his tongue; that grip halted her back from curling away from the bed though her head rolled back, her eyes still held closed, but it didn't stop the sound that escaped her lips -- a soft, desperate sound that would have probably been something much more if she hadn't been expecting that at some point... Knees that had been spread first because he'd been between them then, only because she felt she knew where things were headed, parted a little bit more. She was going against her almost innate urge to draw them together once he'd moved away.

She wasn't comfortable being so exposed -- she didn't bother trying to hide that fact, but she didn't make a production out of it...

With what they were engaging in, that would have been absolutely silly of her.

"Jack...?" She breathed out, his name more a question that a mindless gasp, "It's almost like you're..." Dragging this out... Maybe she was picking up on the fact that every time her hands reached for him in any way that would reveal a side of him he seemed to progress things away from that direction, or maybe she was remembering a connection she'd made earlier... that Jackson Rippner hated to be vulnerable... all of this done without her mind even realizing... Or maybe it was just as simple as her having tried her very best not to sit there in a dizzy stupor with what those gifted hands of his could do to her, and still feeling like it anyway... It felt one-sided...

It had been a while; maybe she wasn't any good at this anymore -- if she ever was considered good in the first place -- and she just didn't know what to do...

Eyes opened, and those orbs instantly focused on what was before them -- that damned mirror... She didn't need to watch this. Her hair was dishevelled slightly, spilling around her in a messy pool... Her face was stained with a slight colour, and her gaze... lost... She made a point of turning her head away again; she was refusing to watch herself when she was so... vulnerable, exposed, intimately so with where his tongue and lips seemed to want to go.

She'd put herself in this position -- or more correctly, she'd allowed herself to be put in this position... but it still felt like...
 
RE: Vertigo

Jackson had the misfortune of being privy to conversations about this sort of thing with other men - he was never clear on why, but it was a topic that his gender tended to focus heavily on when they were gathered for something that was usually referred to as 'guy's night'. Jackson's appearance at these social events were always directly related to his work, but that didn't make it any less mind-numbing; what he had gathered from a series of bawdy discussions through the course of his life was that a disproportionate number of men at those sorts of parties were less-than-fond of giving oral sex, and only did so to avoid breaking some sort of unspoken rule of fairness. Some of them had even called it disgusting.

It was a view that Rippner did not share; as far as he was concerned, there was nothing disgusting about the female body and most certainly nothing disgusting about what he was doing to Lisa right then - he felt her shift at the first touch of his tongue, heard her soft gasp, and he couldn't fathom why a man would ever avoid doing this.

She spoke, and though her words were broken up, Jackson recognized an amount of discomfort - and he found himself understanding it. Lisa's past dictated she would be nervous and he couldn't be certain if she had been physical with anyone since she had been attacked years before - and now she was naked, exposed, and under that fucking mirror. Unclear on how to ease her discomfort, Jackson placed another kiss on her inner thigh before, after some consideration, letting his broken hand crawl up to where one of Lisa's was gripping at the comforter. Recalling how many times she had reached for his hand prior to this, the action made sense - he tangled his functioning fingers with Lisa's, a movement that was so awkward that it seemed as though he had never done it before.

He trailed his mouth along her pelvis and over the soft, sensitive spot where thigh and hip met before he moved himself back to kiss at her core, his tongue running along her heat before he brought his other hand down to stroke at her entrance.
 
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