LUCKY CHRISTMAS
Psychic
Posts: 101
Played by:
Julia
Last seen Nov 16, 2024 23:24:26 GMT
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Post by LUCKY CHRISTMAS on Nov 13, 2022 17:58:52 GMT
 ━ i'm something bad ━
It’d happened on a few occasions now where she tossed and turned in bed, desperate to get a good night’s sleep (so she could be more than a quarter-conscious when she got Lucy to school) and had her peace interrupted by him. The ghost-like feelings of his hands spreading over her━not so much like a phantom extension of herself, but rather hitting the places she could feel, and drumming up memories of their more productive time together. Y’know, when he wasn’t running his fucking mouth. Lucky eventually relented and rolled over to text him, desperate to put an end to the wanting. It was always more straightforward than an already-obvious “U up?”
Waiting for his response wasn’t like it’d been with Patrick. He’d made promises and no longer wished to deliver on them━they meant something to one another━Mitch was just… convenient. Or, actually really fucking inconvenient, depending on how you looked at it. She felt his flash of reluctance, then probably the inability to care that much, before she got a text back. She always said she’d left when she didn’t, waited ten minutes, then snuck out of the apartment and into the elevator.
Mitch didn’t need to know they lived in the same building now; it’d just cause unnecessary problems. There wasn’t much choice in this fucking Hicktown her sister chose, and they weren’t gonna live out of the motel forever. Plus, living only a few floors below him helped with the discomfort.
And then there was the club again. She’d done her best to steer clear of him, but then Mitch was there, and it seemed stupid to pass up on the opportunity to go home with someone you already knew. Plus, it was always better with him (because of the link). She wouldn’t get that anywhere else, try as she might━not that her “husband” had been a disappointment; it just wasn’t the same.
Speaking of, his “defamatory article” seemed to feature all of the shit she’d shared, and yet, Cat’s Dickhead Boss remained in town. And, yes, she blamed JJ for not doing enough━but why hadn’t Cat learned? Lucky had already figured out that all the brains in the family had trickled through, saving themselves to pour into the last child, but even Charlie and Viv had to have some sort of self-preservation skills. Did Cat not even have a survival instinct anymore?
Did Mitch? Hopefully, otherwise that wouldn’t make tonight any fun. Lucky had gone easy on him the last few times they were together, but this time it was back to the fun, the bullshit that made his (and subsequently, hers) blood rush, adrenaline thrumming through their veins. She didn’t have an idea of what they were gonna do yet; all she knew was that she’d texted him to meet her at Campbell’s, where she was already a few drinks deep, testing whether or not it would even have an effect if he wasn’t drinking, too.
The minute he entered, Lucky felt him. Her skin shimmered all over, sparks igniting beneath the surface, her body’s indication that he was close. She didn’t turn to look at him from her seat at the bar, just busied herself with draining the rest of her glass and wondering what good this fucking ability even was. Reading minds? Yeah, that made sense. It wasn’t offensive, but it helped, just like tearing through all of someone’s memories did. But Cat’s second ability was telekinesis, which could definitely help in the worst situations, even if she only wanted to live out the rest of her existence like Matilda. Being able to change your fucking face helped, too. Especially if you were that ugly.
She didn’t so much sense his presence as feel his warmth at her side and, before he could order, Lucky swivelled around in her stool and slid off, chest brushing against his as she did. “Let’s go.” She practically commanded, tone bored, and reached up to grab a fistful of his shirt. ‘Cause, yeah, Lucky had asked him to meet her at the bar, but she didn’t intend on staying━it was just convenient; she was already here.
Tugging him from the sternum, as though his shirt was a leash, Lucky only let go once they were outside. She felt a little looser, a little better, but his influence of clarity lingered in the background of her mind. “Talk to Daddy lately?” She started walking━leading the way down the sidewalk, heading towards the edge of town. It wasn’t far, and she didn’t want to repeat their last event and steal another car. Most of their meetups since hadn’t involved a ton of talking, though she’d done her fair share of shit-talking at the club before he took her home━surprisingly, he hadn’t fallen asleep any of those times. Lucky cocked her head up at him, smirking like she couldn’t wait to twist the knife. “He still bugging you at all? I’m sure you’re just taking whatever shit it is, though; can’t lose that inheritance… even if the exchange is a pair of balls. Good thing he didn’t find out about your little grand theft auto stint, huh?” Good thing no one had. Lucky secured a babysitter for tonight, but anything more than that? Oh, God━would Cat and Cameron raise her kid? She was gonna be sick.
MITCHELL DAVIS |  |
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MITCHELL DAVIS
Shapeshifter
Posts: 63
Played by:
Ange
Last seen Oct 23, 2024 18:07:47 GMT
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Post by MITCHELL DAVIS on Dec 6, 2022 20:27:25 GMT
Tipping his head back, his finger stroking back that rough red edge of beard, Mitch stared at himself in the mirror. Was that a bruise around his throat? Might as well have been for how tight the leash was around it these days. There’d always been one there, waiting for someone to yank on it: the old man first, Jnr dragging him around events like some sorta show pony (my son the war hero, joining the family business soon, you’ll see); the Army, although that one had rarely been yanked on enough for it to choke; the current, tiny vicious hand on it (although that one felt as though it was wrapped just as tightly around some more delicate part of him as much as it was on the choke chain round his neck. She knew it too.
He flashed his teeth at his reflection as though Lucky was right there instead of heading over to Campbell’s, probably at that marching clip that would’ve had the Drill Sergeants in basic busting with pride (that, ladies and gentlemen, is proof that size don’t matter). Maybe he shoulda slipped the chain that first night, kicking her out next morning instead of repurposing the kitchen. He’d caved though and every single damn time since she’d had him doing it again. Mitch grumbled under his breath, pulling on his shirt. Every single time she tossed his weaknesses in his face, a red rag to the shackled bull, cackling like a damn lunatic when the bull charged. Straining at the leash, just straining.
Jnr would’ve been apoplectic over it, that flush rising up to the dark slash of brows that was always set in that disapproving line. He wouldn’t have set an ounce of blame at the woman’s feet, although Mitch was willing he would’ve done if the roles had been reversed. All of this was her though, those shoves that wouldn’t have budged him back an inch - always sending him tumbling forward. Proving a point like he had to fucking make one. It had started to bleed into his work too, a new villainess, one who had no problem with dragging the hero around by the small of his brains either.
Fingers rubbing a little too rough after his jaw, smoothing on the aftershave, like that would last longer than the slick of sweat that beaded on his spine every time Lucky yanked. He turned away, yanking on a jacket, scowling his way down in the elevator, not bothering with the car to make that trip across the square. Why take your own when there was a good chance you’d be goaded - because you had to prove her fingers weren’t still clamped right there - into just taking someone else’s? It was a good fucking thing she didn’t know about the weapons safe under his bed, she’d have had him robbing a fucking bank right there in town just to prove a point. The little lull in the twisting didn’t leave him trusting her anymore. She was a sucker punch, a mean little pinch that’d bring tears to your eyes. And yet he hadn’t told her to go fuck herself when she’d sent that message, hesitated yeah, but he was trottering across the road to the club wasn’t he?
The club was always an easy bet. Once you got past the bouncers you felt that buzz in your blood. Mitch would’ve laid money on the owner haven’t bespelled the place to make people thirst - for booze, for that thudding rhythm of the music you could feel all the way down to your toes when you closed your eyes, for fumbling your way into the ladies (with the queue that was always outside at those places bitching you out when you strolled out smirking twenty minutes later. Campbell’s was a different animal though. No trouble. The place’s tenet would keep Lucky at least semi-under control. Was the owner a spoilsport? In her eyes, sure, but in his, maybe this was a lucky save (pun fucking funny, even if it wasn’t intentional).
Tension snapped like a live wire across his shoulders as he walked in. Head on a swivel, anticipating that first whip crack of laughter and a shit eating grin that just … He grimaced, fingers curling into his palms as he saw her at the bar, hopped on a stool, downing what was probably her sixth drink - all the better to blame him for after, cause who could stand him without a buzz on. The blonde behind the bar caught his eye, the one who’d taken the place over just a couple of months after he’d left town. She’d never bitched about Sadie commandeering the big table over by the fire for meetings of the club, not when they tended to close the place down. Mitch’s lips curled in a smile for her that faded the moment Lucky swivelled off and into him. Brushing up close enough to have him sucking in a breath. ”Hi to you too,” he mumbled. ”Would you like a drink before I drag you out of here? No? That’s fine then, let’s go.” Like a man heading to the gallows he went.
Dark brows beetled as Lucky yanked him with that grip she’d gotten on his shirt. The leash tightened at his throat, cutting off his complaints. If that was all she wanted she could’ve come right over, but where was the game in that. His upper lip curled in a sneer, his beard bristling around it. ”Oh yeah, a half dozen times. Had to fill him on the latest … see if he’d actually have a heart attack from it all.” Sarcasm coloured every word, his hand coming up to smooth down his shirt, metaphorically brushing off the hand leading him.
They were heading away from the centre of town, undoubtedly looking for trouble. ”Fishing to see if I’ll take it? You’re shit out of luck,” he growled. The inheritance as she called it, had stopped coming the moment he’d turned away from that job. The military had paid decently enough, but there’d been a few months spent wondering if he’d have to go home at first. ”You didn’t wanna screw me over and tell him? I’m sure he’d love to hear from Bonnie Parker here. You want his number? You can tell him wherever … where the hell are we going anyway?” Away from civilisation, certainly, which was a bad fucking bet in this town.
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LUCKY CHRISTMAS
Psychic
Posts: 101
Played by:
Julia
Last seen Nov 16, 2024 23:24:26 GMT
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Post by LUCKY CHRISTMAS on Dec 27, 2022 20:32:42 GMT
━ i'm something bad ━
Once they were out of the bar and into the street, Lucky felt a chill rush over arms, making all the little hairs stand on end until… a warmth washed in from the other direction. It stretched over her body, smoothed down the peach fuzz, and she only enjoyed it until she realized where it was coming from. Who. The big fucking ginger heater standing next to her.
“So sarcastic when you’re the one without a spine. You’d actually do it if you had one.” Lucky muttered absently, almost as if she didn’t care. Like that wasn’t the entire reason she kept doing this to him in the first place.
She could see for herself whether or not Daddy had called and what Mitch’s responses were, but the last few times she’d done that to non-humans (who weren’t sleeping), they seemed to be aware of it. Lucky wasn’t gonna let Mitch figure that out now.
“Wait, wait,” Lucky glanced up, smirking wide and deviously. “Did you think I was talking about taking cash from him? I meant taking his shit.” She scoffed, “So you are taking both, huh? Or at least hoping for some cash. That why you never stand up for yourself?” She didn’t really have to read him again, though. She knew he was still a little bitch━if he wasn’t, she wouldn’t be out here with him searching for some kind of backbone.
As they walked, the space between street lamps grew longer until there were periods of thick, extended darkness. “I’d do it, but you’d never hand over his number. And the point is, it’s supposed to come from you.” Lucky looked over so he saw her eye roll. “We’re going where I say we’re going. Keep up.” As if those unnaturally long legs wouldn’t put him miles ahead of her in a few strides. She wasn’t spilling her secrets to this douche, though.
Finally, just past one of those few-and-far-between lamps, Lucky could see the slight twinkle of a railroad crossing sign. “You ever see any trains come through here?” She asked, stepping onto the tracks and turning right, beginning to follow them down the pitch-black trail surrounded only by greenery. She was pretty sure this was near some rail yard, like if they kept walking, they’d get to it. Who knew why Mystic Falls had one, it wasn’t like anybody would wanna come to this fucking town or store anything here. It had no prospects. God only knew why some author nobody knows about would wanna move here, like he had to hide from big hoards of fans or whatever the fuck. Or why some idiot would open a luxury hotel in Mystic Falls when there were plenty in Charlotte, and drag her fucking sister along with him.
Somewhere in the back of her mind━maybe she was imagining it, or maybe it was Mitch’s super-powered senses━she felt a rumbling beneath her feet. If it was real, then it was far off, and they probably had more than enough time to get to the yard━unless the train was coming towards them. Then they’d probably have a close encounter with poison ivy or whatever was in the darkness around them. Maybe one of those furry fucking things, ‘cause apparently changing your face wasn’t the only ability in Mystic Falls. People could turn into fucking animals, too.
MITCHELL DAVIS | |
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MITCHELL DAVIS
Shapeshifter
Posts: 63
Played by:
Ange
Last seen Oct 23, 2024 18:07:47 GMT
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Post by MITCHELL DAVIS on Jan 9, 2023 22:05:50 GMT
Of course, it wasn’t gonna be as easy as a few drinks at the bar and a trip back to his bed. Been there, done that, healed the damn nail marks on his back and put up with her yapping while she’d given them to him. He shouldn’t have been tempted by around round of it, but apparently masochism had started to rot his brain until he’d lost all fucking sense. What was left of it shoulda had him sinking down on his stool as she vacated the one she’d been on, ignoring that mouth until he’d had a couple of his own. He wouldn’t be fussy, just give him the damn bottle and he’d take his dose of patience right from it. He didn’t have an ounce of sense left though, did he?
Remembering where she’d pushed him to the last time, he cursed under his breath as she streaked ahead, tiny apparently having an easier time breaking through the crowd than huge. They were probably already working their way into the space she’d occupied at the bar, the place never staying quiet for too long. Shocker, people in this town seemed to need their buzz to tolerate the place, and honestly, right now he could see the appeal. Mitch cast one glance back over his shoulder as she started walking, giving it one last longing look before she started yapping again.
Oh yeah, there were the sore spots she thought she was finding. Fingerprints she’d tried to paste on like bruises when he had hold of her outside the restaurant. Lucy woulda been the sweet sort, laughing at everyone of his anecdotes during dinner, before he’d let her down with a real friendly ’I had a great time, you know, maybe we should do this again some time’, before they didn’t. Lucky had tried to take his balls, holding onto them in her purse until he’d broken the damn law just to get her a few kicks.
Now she was trying again, a finger fitting over one of those marks again to try and screw into his heart. Boo hoo for her, it didn’t work this time. ”I’d borrow yours, but I’d need one a little longer than that.” His nose wrinkled though, the shittiness of his retort stinging more than the comment had. Yeah, yeah, he hadn’t fucking manned up to destroy what was left of his relationship with his parents. He didn’t want one with the one man, had been slowly severing the cord since he’d seen him stumble out of that car, but he’d clung onto those last few strands of it, hadn’t he? And she fucking knew it.
His brows slammed together as she smirked up at him. Hazel eyes rolling away from her. She’d misunderstood the reference, of course, probably hadn’t read anything since the fifth grade. ”No, I’m not that hard up,” Mitch assured her. ”I’m not a trust fund baby, and I can guarantee you I’m not gonna make the will, if that’s what you were actually angling for.” Jnr would’ve had it all locked up tight for the girls who hadn’t flipped the family legacy the finger and walked away to head into the trenches for a living. ”You wanna show me how not to take the other? I’m sure he’d love to try and give you a little.” And she’d have Jnr by the balls in the same way, leaving a man not used to hearing the word no – in any form.
Maybe he should’ve used it a little more often himself. His wariness groom as the pockets of gloom between the street lamps started to grow. In this town poking around the dark was like taking a stroll in a minefield. You couldn’t see what was coming, even if you knew you should’ve been looking out for it, and it seemed as though Lucky didn’t want to look, she was too busy trying to play Jiminy Fucking Cricket for him – fitting since they were about the same size. Mitch dipped his head, smiling acerbically as she rolled her eyes at him. ”There’s a thing called Google now. You plug a name in and it’ll get you a number real quick.” Not that she’d apparently use it, when it was his mouth she wanted flapping. Mitch waved the suggestion off, tipped his head back to let out a booming laugh. ”You want a piggy back, get this moving fast?” he asked, as he stepped ahead of her, turning to walk a few steps backwards, like he had to score the cheap point.
He still let her lead the way, resisting the urge to glance over his shoulder to see just how far out of the centre of town they’d gotten. In the end he stuffed his hands into his pockets, kicking at the dusty berm of the railroad line as Lucky strutted up onto the tracks. ”You looking to hitch outta town?” he asked with a snort. ”Or were you taking that Bonnie and Clyde shit seriously … you know it takes more than a big mouth to stop a train right?” C4 had worked outside of Kabul though.
At this time of night there probably wasn’t much running through town, what passenger trains did run through middle of nowhere already stopped for the night. Maybe there were some cargo trains running, but you’d hear them coming. ”Sometimes,” he admitted in the end, following her with his boots squarely on the sleepers instead of near the rails that’d make him real fucking miserable even if they didn’t kill him. Her, they’d throw halfway to Charlottesville. The rumble started off real faint beneath them, easy to ignore until he it began to rumble in his bones. ”You wanna see one up close?” he asked. Mitch tipped his head back, catching a flash of the lights in the dark behind them. Still plenty of time to scramble out of the way, if you were too chickenshit to risk it. And he wasn’t chickenshit. Spreading his arms, he pirouetted on the track, eyes locking on her as he came to a stop. The vibrations were inescapable now, a wind seeming to pick up as it curved through the woods, barrelling towards them at 50MPH. What was faster – a train or a woman who believed her balls were probably big enough to stop it in its tracks?
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LUCKY CHRISTMAS
Psychic
Posts: 101
Played by:
Julia
Last seen Nov 16, 2024 23:24:26 GMT
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Post by LUCKY CHRISTMAS on Feb 7, 2023 21:32:18 GMT
━ i'm something bad ━
He probably wouldn’t make the will, but that was a lot of cash to leave his sisters, no? His dad seemed to still have some stock in his only son, like if he kept being an irritating asshole, Mitch just might come around. And Mitch hadn’t completely cut himself off, either, which was her entire point. “So, you let him mouth off to you, and you don’t get anything in return? You’re dumber than ya look,” She cackled, glancing his way. “I’m sure I’d love to chat with him.” But this wasn’t her fight, as she reminded him.
Wait, ew, was he trying to say his dad would wanna bone her? Was that supposed to be a compliment? All she could think about was his dad changing his face into Mitchell’s, and then they… alright, gross. She didn’t particularly enjoy his company━it was only that she had to be around him━so the idea of two Mitchells was nauseating (on top of the inc-st thing).
“Yeah, like I could Google the personal cellphone number of some politician.” Lucky muttered sarcastically, and didn’t let his sudden movement change her stride. He was in front of her now (as if she wanted to look at him for the whole journey), walking backwards and going on about his abnormally large body. “I’d rather not, thanks. This is the perfect view to watch you trip backwards and bounce your head off the pavement.” She smirked as though that would be at all fun for her. Even the idea of it had the back of her skull radiating with phantom pain.
Stepping onto the tracks had him falling behind again━thankfully━and Lucky resumed her steady pace to the edge of… wherever this track led.
She only wished she could leave. Not only was Cat here and working under a boss who’d likely put her in an early grave, but she couldn’t stay too far from Mitch without experiencing the same shit she swore she’d never put herself through again.
“You’d know.” Lucky smirked to herself, getting another dig in━she knew it bothered him that she was aware of shit he’d never told her, though his military history was a little more public than the face-changing shit. She wouldn’t lay it all out, though━the subtlety worked well enough; she didn’t have to say “That box of explosive shit in Afghanistan or wherever-the-fuck.”
The vibrations only grew stronger, and she definitely felt it there━not just because of him. “Maybe. You know it takes more than an abnormally-sized, face-swapping bitch to━” Lucky had put on a voice to mock him, but when she turned and saw Mitch mid-pirouette, she dropped her terrific impression of him. “What… what the fuck are you doing? I swear you get more queer every time I see you; it’s supposed to have the opposite effect, no?” She scoffed, standing only a foot or two away with her arms crossed.
“Try your best not to dance off the tracks, huh? Don’t bitch out.” While her game here likely didn’t need an explanation, Lucky explained it anyway to assert her dominance. She was in control always, mostly because he didn’t do anything to deserve it. He could take it if he wanted, but it was up to Mitch to accomplish growing a pair.
She could see the train speeding in behind him. The lights crept up while she remained in his shadow, nerves beginning to grow in the pit of her stomach. Those were definitely hers.
How long did they have before it got too close? Even if they hopped away, there was some shit about getting sucked in by the train's sheer speed, wasn’t there? Like physics shit, where it’d grab you and force you underneath even if you weren’t directly on the tracks.
What if they didn’t get off in time? Mitch might survive; it seemed like his body would just knit itself back together, but would she? It should kill her, but would his beating heart keep her alive? She doubted it. She’d feel their combined pain, and then she’d be gone, leaving Lucy without a mother.
Lucy. Fuck the rest of them; her daughter was really the only person she’d live and die for. She still loved her sisters, but it was nothing compared to the daughter she’d fought for since the moment she knew she was pregnant. What was she gonna do, die now that Lucy was old enough to remember her, then let her get raised by Cat and Cameron? No fucking way.
The train felt like it was on top of them already, but they still had some time. Lucky wasn’t dumb enough to waste it, though. Lurching forward, she grabbed his shirt in both hands and hauled them both off the tracks, stumbling far enough away that they’d be safe from whatever suction shit she was scared of━far enough to feel a tree branch poke uncomfortably into her hair. The train whirled by seconds later, and even though she’d technically lost, she wasn’t ashamed to stay alive because of her fucking daughter. She just wasn’t gonna tell him that.
“Fuck,” Lucky couldn’t feel herself panting, or how her knuckles ached around the fabric she wouldn’t release (likely because of the numbness throughout her legs). She watched the neverending freight train go by, more than a dozen cars following before she stopped counting.
Her heart kept thundering in her chest as she looked up at him, knowing his was beating just as fast. She could feel it under her hand and in her ribcage, knowing she and Mitch were keeping time with one another. Adrenaline rushed through her, spreading a tingling sensation all over━which one of them was that?
Whoever it was didn’t matter in the end. Lucky started to claw at his shirt like she could tear it off with blunt nails alone, trying to get his body as close to hers as possible. To bring back the sensation, and to find somewhere to expel everything else. She wanted to feel something other than the lingering fear under her skin.
MITCHELL DAVIS | |
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MITCHELL DAVIS
Shapeshifter
Posts: 63
Played by:
Ange
Last seen Oct 23, 2024 18:07:47 GMT
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Post by MITCHELL DAVIS on Feb 22, 2023 19:55:56 GMT
He couldn’t wait to get out from under his father’s roof, his father’s thumb. By the time he’d seen Jnr with the blonde in the hotel lobby he’d already been itching to tear off the black tie and the wingtips. McGill would’ve given him a little bit of freedom, even if he’d have been choking down legal statutes and economic profiles every damn day. Just slip on someone else’s face, party like everybody else without the photos ending up front page news the next day. He had seen though and that one little glimpse at the mask of piety slipping to reveal the man underneath had removed any desire to try and please the man. He was 18, Jnr legally no longer had any say and if he happened to have a damn stroke over his son enlisting then it would’ve been just fucking desserts.
The stroke hadn’t come, although he did wonder if locking him in a room with Lucky for an hour would bring one on. It’d be like watching a jackal savage its prey – something small and innocuous looking turning into an aggressive killing machine in a heartbeat. The change from her savaging him would be welcome, even if he had to hear about how he didn’t have the balls to do it himself – he’d have said it was tough to have them when she’d cut them off and tucked them in her purse that first night, but it wasn’t even that. He’d been continuing to kowtow to the man, letting him dictate his career, not just telling him to stay the fuck out of his life.
Mitch smiled sourly at Lucky, his lips pursing into a puckered little rosebud in the centre of the scruffy surround of his beard. Oh, he got something in return, he just wished he didn’t. ”I get you,” he drawled. Her, this, the cackle he wanted to pierce his ear drums to avoid hearing. ”We’ll arrange a date, you can be the pain in his ass instead of mine.” It was never going to happen, he was too enmeshed in that choking, invisible net, and dipping his hand into his pocket for his phone would just wring another cackle and a ‘weak ass bitch’ out of her.
There were far worse things – far truer things – to label Jnr. Cheat, philanderer, manipulative son of a bitch who was obviously trying to make up for some sort of short coming. Mitch snorted at her, the pucker of his mouth stretching out into that acerbic grin as he corrected her. Who was the pussy now? ”Did I say his cell phone? He has an office, some assistant’ll probably even pick up for him.” Unless Jnr was between them again. Most didn’t last more than a couple of months, why would they when they were constantly being letched over. It wasn’t hard to imagine Lucky’s tolerance of it running out in a heartbeat. She’d drive Jnr to his knees and then she’d cackle, probably recording it to prosperity the same way she would do if he did fall on his ass know. ”That’s just wishful thinking.” Smug as ever he took another couple of those loping steps backwards, as though he was pushing his luck. He probably was, the turn back coming soon enough.
Splitting his head open was gonna be the least of his worries on the damn train lines. Mitch glanced over his shoulder, barely about to trace where the lines went in the dark. She coulda picked daytime for this, goaded him out onto the rails the way she had done into stealing the car – allowing Lucky to pick at him with her nails and that razor tongue until he fucking broke. Smug woulda pulled at her lips no matter what time of day it was, and he’d sneer right back at her the way he did now, his teeth gleaming in the dark. ”Too damn right. I’d blow your socks off.” The frown creased his brows faintly though, a glance cast sideways at her like there was some double meaning to those two little words. It wasn’t only her nails and that tongue she picked at him with, that attitude … christ … and the psychic act like she was able to pluck the truth right out of the air.
Maybe the train would finally shake whatever she was up to out of her. The vibrations steadily grew stronger, like they were rolling up out of the ground and straight into his bones. It could’ve been a dozen yards away and he’d have stayed rooted, had done in similar situations. You held your ground if you needed to, trusted your training and reactions to save your life. Mitch could feel it approach, danced at the feeling of it, a playful show that he had the balls for this little test. He paused though, standing there with his arms still up in the air, flat hazel eyes fixed on her as she mouthed her way right into another of those what the fuck moments. Face-swapping … ”Playing chicken my way.” Whether that was queer or not. ”Looks like you don’t wanna play though. Too scared to stay put? Worried the drag’ll pull you right under the wheels?” A possibility, but they weren’t gonna let it get that close.
His smile widened, confidence oozing out of him as he dropped his arms to shoulder height, keeping them spread there as Lucky puffed her suggestion at him. There was only gonna be one of the bitching out and finally it wasn’t going to be him. Mitch could feel the air tugging at his clothes now, a shrill sound filling the air as the train’s wheels squealed their way around that long curve. ”Do you want a count down? See how close you get to one before you cave. 10, 9, 8...” The lights spilled around him, illuminating the edges of her expression, leaving most of her in the shadow he cast. Close, rushing in without a fucking clue the two of them were there.
Long legs spread shoulder width apart were braced. Another five seconds and he’d grab her, send them both rolling down the berm, away from the tracks. Maybe she’d get a little banged up, but he’d take the brunt of it if she didn’t fight him off. ”... 5 … 4 … can you feel that?” Mitch puffed out an amused breath. He hadn’t been talking about the earthquake like feel of the tremors running through the ground. Adrenalin, singing in his system until every single cell felt like it was burning with life. The first time in a while, eclipsing anything he’d felt when he’d driven that hit wired car out of the restaurant parking lot.
2 …
He didn’t get to 1. Lucky’s fingers were snatching at his shirt as she threw them both away from the tracks. Not rolling like he’d planned to, stumbling down that slope on rubbery legs instead, feeling that drag almost catch the back of him as the train rushed by. It wouldn’t have been as close as he was even making out in his head. There’d been enough time, but she’d saved.
Mitch pressed in, his hands at her hips, his head bent slightly under the screen of branches. Close enough to feel her breath panting out against his throat. Each car that passed was like another tug, although with Lucky’s hands knotted in his shirt he wouldn’t have gone anywhere, not even if the train could’ve snatched him off of his feet from this distance. The adrenaline was a tidal wave in his system, speeding everything up to a fever pitch. Fireworks in every nerve, shooting off until he could’ve exploded with it. ”Chicken,” Mitch puffed, lowering his head a heartbeat before those hands started clawing at him.
She’d have told him there was only one of those standing there, but he didn’t give her the chance. Fuck indeed, truer words couldn’t have been spoken. You always ended up like this when the rush of endorphins was at its height, hair on the back of your neck standing on end, that feeling rushing down to set other things rising. You didn’t mention it, didn’t do anything about it, but you couldn’t just will it away. Now he was catching it between the two of them, his hands clawing at Lucky’s hips the way hers had at his chest. Boosting her up against the tree before he turned, staggering back up the slope before he tipped them both. He caught her as she went down on the wooden ties of the track, hands already at the waist band of her jeans, his mouth hot against the pulse in her throat, kissing, nipping until he had to hold himself back. Gentle wasn’t in her vocabulary but it didn’t mean she had to turn him into an absolute animal – especially since his talents didn’t lie that way. Fingers shaking, he got her pants down to her ankles, enough. With his mouth on hers, Mitch let that adrenaline start to bleed into her with shift of his body.
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