zhampagne | ic inbox

[oh he was totally waiting for this text]

Hi yourself. Love to. Can't promise I won't smirk a little, though.

I'll allow a little smirking.

[ there's a slightly too long pause before the next message. A this-is-taking-all- her-willpower kind of pause. Is this too much? She has no frame of reference for sexting, ok. ]

You know. Until we find better uses for your mouth.

Oh, it's like that?

[Because he's very, very into this vibe.]

Drop a pin and I'll bring the wine.

[ Just like bossing around local law enforcement on a case. Except it would be deeply unethical to boss around local law enforcement in this particular way. ]

See you soon.

[ Location attached. She'll be waiting, pathologically straightening up an apartment that is already painfully neat, no big. ]

[That's not what we mean when we say fuck the police, Dana.

David shows up within the hour, freshly showered, and for once he's given up the constant struggle against humidity and let his hair air-dry into its natural curl. He turns up outside Scully's door holding a very nice bottle of white wine, smiling down at her when she opens the door.]

Special delivery.

Excellent service.

[ With a smile she lets him in, locks the door behind. Freshly showered, she looks softer than usual; hair faintly waved, her cheekbones dotted with a constellation of freckles. Putting makeup back on seemed like too much. Not the effort, but the effect, the expectation; makeup is a method of self-defense and the whole purpose here is to learn to let down her guard.

Inside, the lighting is low and warm; there are wine glasses out on the small coffee table, indistinct music playing low in the background, the alien equivalent of easy listening radio. Her apartment doesn't exactly have much personality, but it's comfortable and welcoming in its way.

She's not nervous, but she's a little self-conscious; she has to keep reminding herself to relax. Sitting on the couch, she gestures invitingly. ]

How have you been?

Mm, yeah, I pride myself on that. [David follows her inside, appreciating his first glimpses of a softer, less put-together Dana. It's nice. He's the same, in a lot of ways; he wears dark sunglasses and immaculate designer clothing because it's easier to hide yourself from people if you put on an intimidating front.

But now is different. They don't know each other well, but David has enough sense to know that now's not the time for all that. So he's dressed in a soft, fluffy cream-colored sweater and black jeans, and sneakers that he toes off in the door before following Dana to the couch. He drapes himself into the corner of it, the bottle of wine placed beside the glasses, leaving his body language open and non-threatening.]

Good, [he replies with a considering nod.] Significantly less terrible than last month, actually. [He hasn't turned into a vampire yet, so he has no idea how wrong that's about to be.] You? Did you start your new job yet?

[ Softness, she thinks, is a good look on him. More approachable, without question, though he cuts a figure in his usual somewhat eclectic wardrobe. She’d noticed, even if she might not have made a move if he hadn’t offered. This is, so far, more comfortable and less awkward than she’d feared. ]

It’s good. Not much like field work, but it’s at least reasonably interesting. And keeps me busy.

[ which is important because idleness is not good for her. Workaholism: always the answer. . . Right? ]

And it means access to better equipment for my own research. Though that hasn’t translated to progress, yet.

[ with a shrug she leans over to open and pour the wine. ]

[Despite David being an edgy bitch a good chunk of the time, he is actually pretty good at this part. Flirting, seduction, putting people at ease...all skills he's cultivated over the span of his adult years with impressive voracity. He nods, slow and even, as Dana talks about her work.]

What kind of progress are you trying to make? Going to...find a way to get us all out of here? [His tone is wry, almost joking. He's pretty sure if that were a thing someone would've figured it out by now, but he's not trying to sound defeatist about it, either.]

I mean, I'd like to.

[ She's got a life to get back to. One with just as much chaos but slightly more comprehensible rules. People she misses. ]

To start, I'm just hoping for a better understanding of the gems and what they do to us. How it all works.

[ It's not, she knows, much smaller of a goal; she punctuates it with a wry smile, a sip of wine. ]

I admire your ambition, [David says truthfully, reaching for his glass and bringing it to his nose for a casual whiff and a quick sip.]

Some concrete answers would not go amiss. Do you think they're going to give you the access you'd need? The Gems can be...really weird about Gembonded, I've noticed. There are a lot of places we're not even allowed to go.

[He stays in his own lane, because he's not an answers man by nature. Leave that to the scientists and superheroes. David Rose is more than happy to hang out while someone else figures it out.]

There are certainly things I can't access. I have to assume there are areas I don't even know I don't have access to. But I'm hoping what I have is enough to make progress. And maybe building up some goodwill won't hurt.

[ She's good at what she does. And she's used to working with this kind of constraint-- searching for answers being specifically withheld from her, as opposed to the general scientific unknowns.

Taking a moment, she looks down at her glass, before looking back up through the fringe of her lashes. ]

But we're not really here to talk about work, are we?

[ she leans just a little nearer. Forensics makes for godawful dirty talk. ]

[David listens, nodding between sips of wine, but the corners of his mouth curl up delightedly when Dana fixes him with that look. He shakes his head, slow and sure, his posture straightening just a tiny bit as he leans nearer, too.]

Mmm, no we're not. You saw past my ruse. [He clicks his tongue.] Honestly, I was really hoping to hear more about the ideas you had for my mouth.

[Shameless. He's shameless.]

[ it feels like he's calling her bluff, except she's not bluffing.

Her smile curls deeper but her bottom lip catches in her teeth as she considers the next move. Probably it's obvious that she doesn't quite know how to be forward, to be casual. Should she kiss him? Is that too intimate? (Isn't that the aim here, though, some sort of intimacy?)

She decides, in the moment, to come back to that question and (for now) err on the side of boldness. The part she doesn't want to admit makes her a little nervous, because she's lost count of how many near death experiences it's been since anyone saw her like this. Because she's still too conscious of the barely-healed gunshot scar that creeps up the side of her belly. Even the gold ring in her navel doesn't do much to distract from it.

In one deliberate motion she arches her spine and pulls off her loose knit blouse, letting it fall to the floor; she unhooks her bra to give him a helping hand but doesn't slide out of the ivory satin, trimmed with lace. She leans back, arching a brow, her expression a little bit challenging. An invitation to show her what he can do. ]

[He's expecting her to kiss him. It's the easiest first step, the first bridge to cross. But she throws him a curveball, lifting her blouse off in one fluid motion, and David feels his mouth go a little dry. His dark eyes dart over the exposed skin, the pale satin just barely covering her, and then back up to her face.

It's been a long while, a couple of years, since he's been with a lady, and while he does enjoy his slutty gay gem adventures, there's something about being with a beautiful woman that just hits differently. He smirks appreciatively at her expression, liking the challenge in it, and then sets his wine glass down so he can lean over her, an arm propped on the back of the sofa.

He could say something witty, but that's not an optimal use for his mouth, in his opinion. So instead, David just leans in and kisses her, a hand cupping her jawline. He doesn't linger long on her mouth, though, exhaling a soft, satisfied sigh as he kisses down her jaw and neck, intent on showing her the good time he feels she deserves.]

[ Oh, but it's gratifying to be looked at that way. The little thrill of it helps unravel her nerves. Her expression shifts into a decided smirk as he leans in; and when he kisses her it's like breaking the surface of still water, uncovering an unseen depth. She leans into it hungrily, with a soft hum of satisfaction.

Her head tips back, eyes shut, as he moves down her throat, and she slides a hand up his shoulder to bury her fingers in his hair, nails dragging lightly across his scalp. ]

[Scully's hungry response is exactly what he'd hoped to find, and it spurs David on a little more. He tongues delicately over her pulse, tasting clean skin and finding it, absurdly and impossibly, comforting. Like there's something normal and human in this huge, insane gem world. He can't really explain it so he moves on quickly enough, encouraged by Scully's fingers in his hair. David makes a soft sound of approval into her collarbone, his stubble brushing over delicate skin, a thrill going down his spine at the nails on his scalp.

Eventually, his mouth finds his target: the strap of her bra, which he takes between his teeth with a devilish grin and begins to tug the whole garment the rest of the way off. He's confident he could've unhooked it himself, but he's grateful for the assist nevertheless.

[ As always there's a wide gulf behind theory and practice. The idea of seeking people out for this-- sex, synchrony, companionship-- has had her tied up in mental knots; Catholic guilt and questionable experiences and the strangeness of her own life making a tangle of quiet uncertainty.

But in the moment it isn't complicated at all; just her and a handsome man, the heat of his mouth on her, a pleasant shiver running down her spine.

She smirks back approvingly, fingers running down to stroke the back of his neck as he bares her breasts. ]

I knew you'd get the idea.

[As he peels the garment away, David lets the strap fall from his teeth and into his lap, his hands curling at either side of her ribcage. He pauses to give her a long, admiring look, drinking her in like he had the wine now abandoned on the coffee table.]

I'm very clever, [he reminds her in a low voice, gliding one palm up beneath the curve of one lovely breast to cup her, the air leaving his lungs as he gives her a soft squeeze. God, women. Nothing quite compares.

He doesn't say anything else, just bends to lap his tongue across her nipple with a low, pleased groan. As he does, he begins to feel Synchrony wash over him noticeably, a buzz he doesn't think he could ever tire of.]

Hmmn, [ she watches him through half-lidded eyes. ] I never doubted that.

[ God, that's good. She gasps as his tongue touches her, arching her back with involuntary eagerness. In the moment it's so much easier than she expected to let go of her self-consciousness; to trust his hands on her and not worry about what came before or what happens next.

Fist tangled again in his hair, she relaxes into the swell of Synchrony; it's not as distinct as when she's tried in other situations. More an augmentation of the natural intimacy of the moment.

For a long moment she lets him work the tight bud of her nipple before she strokes his jaw, reaches to drag him back up for another kiss, all hints of shyness banished. ]

[The way Scully arches into his mouth sends a triumphant thrill lancing down his spine, his lips closing around her nipple to suck firmly until she draws him back up to her mouth. He lets his weight settle a little more fully over her as they kiss, letting her feel the way his body has taken a definite interest.

He kisses her thoroughly, not in any particular rush, happy to take his time getting to know this part of her. His hand stays on her breast, though, rolling and pinching the spit-slick bud of her nipple between his thumb and forefinger.]

[ Look: Scully is a small woman. There is no arguing about it. In day-to-day life it's a frustration, a constant effort to match others' stature with the force of her willpower.

This, though, is a sort of guilty pleasure; she relishes feeling so much smaller than a partner, being pressed into the sofa by the heat of him. Whimpering softly against his mouth at the attention he's lavishing on her sensitive breasts, she clumsily slides a palm under the hem of his sweater, too greedy to pause long enough to get it off but eager to touch as much as she can. ]

[Those little whimpers that issue against his lips have David that much more keyed-up than he already was, and he can't help but let his hips press into Scully's briefly. A soft groan issues from his throat, too, feeling her palm slide up under his sweater. He's lean but muscular; turns out having a boyfriend with super-everything is a really good motivator to hit the gym.

After a little more of this, he pulls back to ask breathlessly,] Can I go down on you? [It's been ages since he's had the pleasure, and he's decided he'd really like to hear what she sounds like once he's gotten his mouth on her properly.]

[ She might protest him pulling away... But that question makes her gasp sharply instead. ]

Yes, [ she breathes, eager and shameless, his words more than enough to spark a throb of desire deep within her. It would have taken her a lot more to work up the nerve to ask for it, but yes, it's an easy answer. ]

[Dana's eager response has David splitting into a devilish grin, and he gives her one more enthusiastic kiss before he resumes kissing his way down her body. He noses into her sternum, gives each pale breast a wet kiss, before meandering lower. His body unfolds down the sofa as he kisses and nips at her lower belly, his fingers pulling down the waistband of her bottoms and underwear all in one go.]

God, [he breathes as he takes in the sight of her, dark eyes flickering back up to her face. He pauses only to strip off his cardigan and the plain white tee underneath, before he's settling back between her thighs and encouraging her to prop her knees over his broad shoulders.]

You can pull my hair all you want. Tell me if you don't like something. [That's all he can manage before he's leaning down to drag his tongue up the length of her, moaning as the taste and scent of her floods his senses.]

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