You Are the Antidote That Gets Me By

[Damien Renton]

This seemed to be the only place he deemed safe. Damien, Allena in tote, stumbled back to the infirmary. He didn't expect Emily to be around, although he doubted she'd care. Unless in a sudden she'd grown attached to him, thanks to their few romps. But he doubted that.

Taking her back to his quarts, he opened the door and flipped on the dim light. Pulling her in, he shut and locked the door. Pulling his wallet out of his back pocket, he tossed it on the dresser and undid his belt, discarding it toward the floor.

He turned back to face her and a smirk escaped, amused that their drunken and [his] horny state. All he wanted was his owl to return- who would hopefully be smart enough to go to the owlry-and here he was now.

Damien grabbed her wrist and forced her into his body, taking her lips like they were still his and stumbling slightly into the same dresser his wallet resided on.

"Sae...Ah won't have tae worry aboot waking up with iny regrets, aye?"

[Allena Delarue]

Allena followed him unsteadily, allowing him to lead her around like she was his pet. She affixed herself to his side, holding tightly to his hand. Immediately she decided she liked his quarters, although this may be because they were new territory for her to enter. New things were always fun, although she felt like it lacked the familiarity of the boy's dormitory. But she couldn't make history repeat itself. This was the best substitute she had.

She watched him do away with his things in something like a habitual manner and was admittedly surprised when he pulled her close, like he used to, and kissed her in his familiar way. There was no denying the fact that she enjoyed it immensely, and she put her arms around him with her hands in his back pockets so that he could not get away. This unfortunately ended with her fingers hitting against the dresser, but the alcohol numbed the pain she anticipated.

"Zat depends on what you define as a regret-- you may very well regret leaving me after tonight, or you may regret not doing zis sooner. I do not see any ozer possible types of regret zat you may 'ave for tonight." Of course, she did. But she didn't want to let him know that. Was it better to have a fun romp, though, and then be neglected again for whoever else he found appealing, or to not have any fun at all and not be damaged for it?

She didn't know exactly where doing this would lead them. Her only assumption was that he was going to take her to bed with him, enjoy her, and then resume their witty bantering and fantasies with no further participation. If anything else spawned from it she'd be happy--not a child, of course, that would have quite the adverse effect-- but she would not object if he wanted something again. This time she would not be surprised when he chose his drug over her, and thus less damaged by the outcome.

Granted, that was entirely hypothetical. Who was she to say that he wasn't telling her sweet things as a result of being drunk and horny and knowing that she was easy so that he could satiate his sex strive in a more convenient way for himself?

[Damien Renton]

Damien snorted at her response. He didn't plan on having any regrets- at least he hoped not. Shaking his head he corrected her, "nae, Ah meant you. Ah dinnae forsee me having iny regrets taemorrow."

He hoped that didn't make him sound like a complete lecherous asshole, but it was the optimal plan. Women were generally the ones who got attached.

Granted, sleeping with an ex who you've got feelings remaining for could make a man have the same attachment, but Damien was sure he could handle it.

The edge of the dresser wasn't appeasing, and he decided he'd move this to where it belongs- either the floor, a wall, or his bed. Considering his intoxicated state, he probably couldn't balance her against a wall. The floor she would surly think was dirty, and could cause rug burns.

The bed was generally fool proof.

Twirling/tossing her over in that direction, his body waved in following until he forced her to lay back. He moved atop of her, arms streched out on either side of her head. He was careful to not pull her hair- it had happened before, and, if he recalled, her squealing was not a noise of pleasure.

[Allena Delarue]

Her. Of course he meant her. Allena frowned, a bit estranged from herself at her lack of vanity. Generally, she was the only person she thought about, and she hadn't much expected that to change. "Me, of course. I never 'ave any regrets." That was a lie as well, but it was one she believed. Her regrets were not her own, however. They were regrets for other people's actions, usually, and she didn't know if that counted.

He spun her around more quickly than her intoxicated brain liked to be spun, and after only a brief moment of discourse she landed on the bed. Her legs kicked softly in order to shimmy herself better on to the bed, particularly so that she was entirely on it. Having her legs dangling off one end wouldn't do.

Soon enough he was on top of her, and she found herself looking up at him with a happy, inebriated smile. "I've missed this," she admitted softly, her own arms pinned somewhere under his body. She didn't make any effort to move them yet, enjoying her present placement. It had been a long, long while since she'd had this view, and she was not quick to disregard it.

Finally she got the notion that she needed to actually do something. Lifting her right arm she let it run up his side and along his chest, then to his shoulder and neck. Her cool, petite fingers dipped around to the back of it, pulling him down to her briefly as she leaned up, kissing him slowly on the mouth. His style always seemed a bit rushed, and she wished to slow him down before they got into an impassioned frenzy. Her eyes closed as she let her own mouth feel around his, her tongue suggesting calmly that it be allowed entrance to his mouth.

She didn't let him go for some time. She was as selfish as she was vain, and she was enjoying herself too much to relinquish the moment with no further ado. But finally she did let her fingers slide away until they rested back on the bed. She lowered herself back down, having sat up slightly in order to ensure his comfort and make sure that she didn't strain his neck, for that would have been awkward and certainly displeasing for him.

Slowly she opened her eyes, smiling slightly. At this point she was ready for one of two things to happen--either he was to ravage her or be sweet with her. She supposed she was prepared for either one-- perhaps even both, if she got lucky.

[Damien Renton]

No regrets. Damien wondered if such a person actually existed. He didn't by that for a moment- someone might not regret about what they did do, but that would only make an allowance for people to regret what they didn't do.

But, he figured, it wasn't his problem to deal with tomorrow morning. Or so he hoped.

"Missed this?" He asusmed she was speaking of the sex and the chase. "It never went anywhere..." he informed her lightly under his breath. But he hadn't much time to elaborate for she was apparently an eager beaver tonight.

In fact, she had a hold on him. He was only growing more and more excited as time went by and he was unable to really stop her teasing tongue and take what he wanted. So Damien went along, growing more and more excited and the anticipation was worse than normal.

While she was occupying the upper half of his body, Damien felt like an animal when it came to his lower half. He couldn't help but rub himself against her and he felt very dog-like. It was only a matter of time before he started humping the girl exactly like a dog would, only to come prematurely then roll over and fall asleep.

Damien did not want that to happen.

He kept his hips stationary- well, as stationary as they could get- before he finally parted from her lips and he sat up, now feeling like a prairie dog. He glanced down at her after licking his lips, trying to decided how to take this. Pound the living shit out of her or be a bit more passionate.

He figured he could start with one and end with the other.

Taking his shirt off and almost falling back on the floor, he stood and pulled her small body up with his, removing her shirt before she had a real opportunity to do so. He was hard enough to be seen through denim and he realized that if his penis played cards, it'd have a horrible poker face.

"Don't leave me hanging here," he was horny but not horny nor drunk enough for foreplay. If she didn't agree to get naked, the passionate card was going to be tossed out for the evening and the man-handling mode would kick in and wouldn't be able to stop it.

He pushed her lightly back down on the bed and undid the button to her jeans, then followed by his own button and fly. However he found his hands unable to stay away from her and the visuals he was receiving was too much for a man not to have to feel.

Lifting her ass up, he pulled down her jeans and again slid his body between her legs, pelvis to pelvis and lips to lips.

[Allena Delarue]

Allena murmured something unintelligable in response, but didn't feel too pressured to answer with any degree of ...well, anything. He seemed elsewise preoccupied, and she felt as he seemed to her to feel. Maybe she was just assuming that he felt that way, though, in order to make herself feel like less of a sleazy whore.

This, not surprisingly, was a difficult task.

He began to hump against her and she grinned despite herself. She couldn't imprison him in a kiss for too long without him getting excited, apparently, and so she settled for this. In the end she didn't mind much-- it kept her realities in check. What he really wanted versus what his drunken pseudo-promises disillusioned her with. She wasn't exactly comfortable with it, but she found that there was little that she could to to really change it, and so she let it persist.

More suddenly than she would have thought possible, he had begun to undress her. She was being tossed about like a practice doll, but she'd never much minded that. It was nice to be out of control--she got a kick out of the whole idea of being ravished. Perhaps that was why it was difficult to put the shades on the skanky whore paradigm that she maintained about herself, or at least part of the reason.

"Never," she replied, sitting up as he pulled her up to take off her shirt, and then pushed her back down onto the bed to get her clothes off. He was suprisingly quick about it, or else everything she was feeling seemed to be on speed. At a point he did seem less capable to take his own pants off--a surefire sign that he had spent more time undressing women and being undressed by them that self-service. Ah, well. What more could she expect? Certainly she couldnt expect him to just turn into a hermit after their break up.

She reached behind herself and removed her own bra, recalling briefly his ineptitude when it came to bras. Tossing it aside with little care to see where it landed she arched her back, pushing up against him with a soft, feline purr. She took his hands in hers, pushing his hands to the side of her as she kissed him, forcing him to hold off for a few more moments as she leaned up, kissing at his lips and then down to his neck, enjoying herself already.