"I'm not into oral," she answered in a low drone.
"I'm really tight," he beseeched. "I could make myself tighter, we could fuck right here in this stall. It wouldn't take long. I can make you cum in three minutes."
"Not interested."
"I'll let you cum on my face."
"You're getting a little desperate, aren't you?"
"I can be anyone you want, anything you want. Just show me a picture and say the word–"
Boring. He froze, eyelashes fluttering. And she supposed she must have said that out loud. But his smile only grew. The stiffness in his features was obvious, the muscle in his jaw twitched. She briefly considered her debt to him, but waved that thought off with a scowl.
"Boring?" he sniffed her, head cocked, the shadows cast over his strong profile, cut a strong jaw. The hearts vanished, revealing only the all-consuming primordial darkness of his eyes. His rage rippled over his features, sharpening the cut of his jaw. "I've never had to try so fucking hard for just a quick lay."
"If that's your best, I'm utterly disappointed," she answered, chuckling. "Everyone else must be indulging your useless flirting skills. I'm sure your flings go home and laugh at the mere thought of you. You'd do so much better if you just shut up, looked pretty and said please."
He growled, there was venom coating his voice now, a low caramel-like growl that rippled free. "Fuck you."
"In your dreams," she replied, rolling her eyes. "You'll just have to live with the rejection, cry and go back to your hordes of lovers who don't mind your inadequacies. Because you definitely need a lesson on language. Have you heard of the word consent?" Her nose twitched, wrinkling with disgust. "You seem to have a problem with yes and no, and I do know a class that you'll definitely benefit from. Could sign you up with the little kids." She shrugged, leaned back languidly. "They're five but you'll fit in, shorty."
"For Aphrodite's sake, I don't know why I even supported you," Altair hissed, and she blinked at his words. "Should have just let you die."
"Oh, I wouldn't even allow you the chance to fuck my dead corpse," she raised a brow, tapped at her neck. "I've got a chip, instant obliteration the moment I'm dead. You won't even get the chance." It was a lie, she didn't have the money for that technology, but Altair wouldn't know.
"I won't do that," he grimaced, face twisting into the ugliest expression she'd ever seen on him. "That's nasty as fuck."
"But you might," she leaned forward, closer. Her finger tugged on his chin, and she tilted his face upwards. His skin was soft, silky and they flooded her veins with strange soothing warmth. "You're only here because you want to eat me. We both know that. You'd relish in my death, savour every last morsel of my escaping, fear brimmed energy. But I'd take you down even when I'm dead. I'm that self-destructive, and I mean it." Her gaze deepened into a glare. "Try me." Her fingers left his face.
"Rue," he exhaled, hands running through his hair, seemed almost breathless. "I'm only here to suck your fucking cock. I'm not a monster. I just want you."
"And I've been saying no for a while," she replied. "I had the impression you needed a stronger explanation. You don't seem to be the smartest."His eyes flashed red, tentacles rising like the waves of a sea, growing sharper as they bristled behind him. There was a strange heat in his skin, a feverish rush as his tentacles seemed to grow larger and angrier. It reminded her of Valentino's craze. "And now you're going insane like your brother, don't you boys have some sort of self-control?"
"Oh,I'll show you self-control," Altair grunted, eyes widening into a daze. His tentacles rippled, spreading around her as if they were bars to a cage. They danced, crimson red. "I'll show you how much I fucking need you to guide me when I–"
She jerked her hips, and he was falling back, her hands were around his waist just before he tumbled off her knees. The shock brimmed in his eyes, surprise dancing free and breaking his insanity. She cracked a small smile this time. The space between them was a rush of cool air, the lack of the burning rod of his need gone from her belly. But she could see the obscene bulge of him in his jeans.
"Fuck," there was a curious sort of awe in his voice. "You're amazing." She narrowed her eyes, giving him a funny look. "You don't understand how much better I would feel if we actually fucked. How about this, I could help you with your Rut–"
"Altair, I meant…"Her voice deepened, dropped lower, no longer quite as pitched. The androgynous rasp of it rumbling in the air, and it would get her message across. "Exactly what I said." Her eyes narrowed when he shivered, and seemed strangely entranced by her face. "There's nothing that you can do to change my mind, not even a hissy little fit. So taste me and tell me that the flavour of honesty does not exist in my emotions."
Altair bristled, eyes growing dark—pitch black. His tongue flicked out, a scowl on his cheeks. He spoke, a little haughty, strangely childish now, as if she'd ruined every single one of his plans. She supposed she had. "Look, do you know who I am? Who my fathers are? Who I'm mated—"
She snorted, a burst of mocking laughter that had him growing quiet on her lap, almost huddling into himself as if she actually had the power over him, as if she were using some sort of aura on a big bad Alpha like he was. Rue wiped a fake tear, patting his hip, he quivered. "I don't care who you are, or what you are. It doesn't matter to me if you're famous, rich or a goddamn hero in the galaxy. Darling. If you treat me like shit. I treat you like shit. That's it."
"Aren't you scared?" he snapped. "I could fuck up your life. And I will. I will fuck up your life if you don't let me have what I want. I gave you this place, I can take it back. And you can go back to the hell hole you came from. You can sell yourself for twenty credits to some fat fucker instead of someone as beautiful and as powerful as me–"
She pushed him off her then, legs parted rapidly, and he stumbled back falling through the door of the bathroom with a loud squeak, losing his seat. His arms were flailing, feet struggling to catch his weight. But she stood and caught him just as he tumbled, her fingers around his wrist. There he hung, suspended in air, swaying with his hair just centimetres from piss and gunk on the tiles. The fall had been comical and she let out a bark of laughter.
"You should see your face!" she cried, snorting. How dare he threaten her?
"Rue!" he gasped out. His feet were spinning over wet tiles, shoes squeaking madly. She smiled. God, he looked like an idiot. Her grip on his wrist tightened, and he scrambled against her hold. "Rue! Let me go!"
"Do you want me to drop you?" she teased in a sing-song voice. "Look at that stain on the floor." Her brows furrowed. "Is that shit? Wouldn't it be nice to have warm shit on your head?"
"FUCK NO!" he squeaked, almost squealing with her words. "Rue, please!" He was sweeter this time, cuter. A little adorable wail that had her heart fucking squeezing. It had her looking at him again, her gaze dancing over the quiver of a pout. "Please!"
His tentacles were coiling around her legs, the feathers rippling, lilacs and rose. His eyes were wide, lips parted, moist and juicy. Beneath her, he was a picture of gorgeous submission. Something that had her mother's words pounding in her head, and her insides clenching.
It's all about the slow fucking burn.
Rue tugged him upwards, his body pressed against the sink. His tentacles slammed against the marble, and he squeaked, confused. Her hand was locking his wrists together, pulling them up above his head. He winced, blinked rapidly, confused but the blush dusting his cheek seemed to grow darker. And he seemed vulnerable in his embarrassment. Her heart skipped a dangerous idiotic beat.
And then her palm was pressed to his lips, the warmth of his breath ghosting over her flesh and chills erupted from where her skin touched his lips. Her hips were slotted between his thighs, and he let out a soft moan of surprise. His brows dipping down into a frown.
There she leaned forward, eyes closing to press a smooth kiss over where his lips should be–her hand acting as a barrier between them both. Her hips grinding up against his, one smooth body roll that would provide his cock with a long, generous stroke of pleasure. And she could almost feel his heart pounding from under her. The rush of it thundering on his lips. A strangled gasp escaped his throat, fanning against her palm.
And when she opened her eyes to stare down at him, he was a mess. His tentacles spilled like liquid down over the sink, dripping around him like cream. His body was loose and shaking as if she'd fucked him from monday to sunday and never allowed him the rest. His eyes were so dilated they seemed drugged.
She smiled. Just a palm kiss was enough to send him to heaven. What a little virgin.
"Please tell me you didn't cum like the last time I touched you," she whispered, dragging her palm down his neck, thumb touching his pulse. It soared, fluttering under her like the beat of wings. His cheeks grew red, flooding with blood. He quivered, blinked through unseeing eyes. He must smell sweet.
"You knew?" he whimpered, awakening from his high.
"Everyone's O face looks the same," she complained. "Unoriginal ecstasy. You'd look prettier if you practised in front of the mirror, liar." She gave him a look, and his cheeks dusted with a pretty rose pink. "How much?" Her fingers danced to his chin, tilting his face up to look into his eyes.
"J-just a little."
"You wouldn't last if we fucked," she tilted her head to the side, thumb over his lower lip. He shivered. "Your pants aren't even off, you know that right?"
"Fuck you," he whispered, but his cheeks were bright red. "Just give me some time to get used to you. I'll do better."
"Right. Why don't you practise and then you can come back and try to seduce me with your amazing party tricks, yeah?" She made a face. "I knew you were lying when you said all that shit. They always say when Alphas are all talk, they've got small dicks."
"I DO NOT HAVE A SMALL DICK. And I was not fucking lying!" he squeaked at her. "You're just really good for my Alpha. He loves you because you're as irresistible as an Omega but–"
"Yeah right," she interrupted, blinking wildly. He couldn't smell her slick could he? There was no fucking way. "Actions speak louder than words, look at all your dicks. They're flaccid."
He blinked then glanced down at his tentacles. A small gasp and he was struggling to sit up, tugging at his tentacles that had practically melted into the stone. "Let me try again–I'm ready! I can do it!"
She pulled back from him then, moving to wash her hands and check her short hair. There was nothing that pretty about the face before her, and she wondered why Altair seemed so utterly obsessed with her. But her lips pulled into a tight line. Perhaps, her skinny limbs made her seem like a fuckable Alpha. Or an Omega as he'd said. She grimaced. It was time to escape.
"Where are you going?" he asked, trying to sit up. His jeans had a dark spot at the front, semen crusting the fabric. He reached towards her, eyes growing puppy like. "Rue please–"
"We're still enemies," she reminded him, exiting the bathroom. "I haven't forgiven you, but if you play nice we might just become acquaintances." She gave him a long look. "Mister Premature ejaculator." He blinked, mouth opening into a snarl. She closed the door sharply, a smirk on her lips.
What a dumbass.