( oh, he's a dick for this, and she groans in a needy frustration against his skin when she notices the speed decreasing from his hand. but despite it, the teen grins impishly over his words -- because god, she shouldn't enjoy him being in her head this much. but to have someone learning how she ticks without her needing to yammer in long drawn out explanations is downright amazing. it gets so tiring and boring having to answer the same damn basic questions. "what was your world like?", "what are your hobbies?", "what's your favorite food?", "why do you enjoy guns/explosions so much?", "why is it about you and wrecking havoc?", blah blah fucking blah! she wants to skip all of that and get to the good stuff. and that's what this is for her, the good stuff. and if quentin wants to know the nitty gritty of jinx, he can always ask or browse around freely in her head, whatever he wants to do. she is essentially an open book anyway. if there's something she doesn't want him to know quite yet, she'll slam the mental door at him. no big whoop.
but anyhow feeling just a tad bit aggressive thanks to that little comment of his, jinx tightens her grip on him with her leg and uses her body weight to roll the two of them over so he's more on top. her lips part ways from his neck but only briefly so she can hum into his ear, her words sweet with a dash of poison mixed in: )
Your funeral, Mister psychic extraordinaire.
( and with that, she digs her nails even deeper in his skin -- clawing harder from bottom to the top of his shoulder. her lips dives back into his neck, this time the bite she grants is harder too, although licks lovingly over the bite to soothe. )
'You oughta fuck me faster. I know you gotta be dyin' to hear how wet I am for you.'
( if he wants her to squirm, fine. but she'll play the game of talking dirty if she has to. )
no subject
but anyhow feeling just a tad bit aggressive thanks to that little comment of his, jinx tightens her grip on him with her leg and uses her body weight to roll the two of them over so he's more on top. her lips part ways from his neck but only briefly so she can hum into his ear, her words sweet with a dash of poison mixed in: )
Your funeral, Mister psychic extraordinaire.
( and with that, she digs her nails even deeper in his skin -- clawing harder from bottom to the top of his shoulder. her lips dives back into his neck, this time the bite she grants is harder too, although licks lovingly over the bite to soothe. )
'You oughta fuck me faster. I know you gotta be dyin' to hear how wet I am for you.'
( if he wants her to squirm, fine. but she'll play the game of talking dirty if she has to. )