☠ 050

[molotov]

Who: Molotov and you
What: infected and sick... with lust
When: 11/22, evening
Where: all over, wherever
Rating: probably... up to R

When the flu symptoms cleared up, Molotov shrugged it off. She figured it was just the castle fucking around with the residents, as she never got sick, and wouldn't it have lasted longer if she was actually getting ill? So she decided to go about her business without really thinking about it or digging into the journal -- if the castle was giving everyone temporary colds, then the journal would just be filled with a lot of useless bitching.

Which only made it a bonus that she recovered so quickly. It gave her plenty of time to roam the castle and accomplish the things that she usually didn't get to bother with, due to the overwhelming presence of the other residents.

She barely noticed any change at all, not until something in the back of her mind made her think that maybe she should go find her husband. But he'd still been sick when she left, so she just stayed out. Stayed out and... well.

Anything can happen in the castle.

Comments

[molotov]

Molotov again ignored his bad mood, and just worked her hand down his chest, walking her fingers along his midline and abs. "Nothing," she cooed, eyelashes fluttering a little as she looked up at him. "I am glad you are feeling better."

[samson]

Something about the way she was touching on him was making him furious. Which, somewhere in the back of his head, he thought was odd. But he quickly dismissed that thought, since it got swallowed up by this fury anyway.

"You should have stayed in bed," he growled lowly at her, grabbing her wrist.

[molotov]

His anger really did nothing except fuel her desire for him, and she let out a happy little twitter as he growled and grabbed her.

"But I feel better," she told him, pressing her hips to him and threading her other hand through his hair.

[samson]

Molotov's continued flirtiness was making him progressively angrier for whatever reason, but just because he was mad didn't mean he wasn't still into his wife. Inhaling deeply, he narrowed his eyes at her and pushed her back toward the wall, letting go of her wrist to grab for her throat instead.

"I can't stand you," he hissed, hating her a whole lot more than usual, but still wanting to be around her.

[molotov]

Molotov allowed him to pin her to the wall, her eyelid fluttering with happiness. But she wasn't deaf, and what he said was upsetting and mean!

"But I want you so much," she answered sadly, reaching to touch his face.

[samson]

"That doesn't mean you aren't pissing me off," he said, letting her touch his face for a bit, though he was scowling pretty heavily at her.

But this too very quickly got on his nerves, and he turned his head to bite her palm instead. He wanted to take her back home and slam her face into the headboard.

[molotov]

"I did not do anything," she murmured, watching him bite her. She took her other hand and started to work his shirt untucked, her eyelid low and heavy.

[samson]

Brock just growled unintelligibly in response, biting her hand harder. He stopped once he tasted blood, and pressed her hand forcefully to his cheek. It was suddenly very important that he smear her blood on himself.

"What are you doing," he said irritably, though he instinctively tilted his hips toward her anyway.

[molotov]

Molotov whimpered a little when he bit harder, although that kind of thing had never bothered her enough to make him stop.

"I want you," she said again, her hand sliding down into his jeans.

[samson]

He simply continued to scowl down at her, though he didn't take her hand out of his pants or anything. He was pissed off, not stupid!

"Then you should have stayed at home," he snapped, getting in her face a little bit, bending closer. "Let's go."

[molotov]

Wrapping her hand around him, Molotov easily fell into a fake pout of contrition. "You were sick," she said, trying to press her forehead to his as he got in her face. "But I am glad you are better now."

[samson]

Brock met her halfway as she leaned closer to him, though he smacked her in the forehead with his rather than pressing them together. Like a little headbutt, but not as violent. Because her hand was on his dick.

"You were sick, too. I don't want you wandering the fucking halls when you should be in bed, Molotov."

[molotov]

She whined when he headbutted her, and squeezed him a little roughly, still pouting.

"But I feel fine now," she said. "Why should I stay in bed and pretend to be sick? I should be in bed, da, but not like that."

[samson]

Brock snarled when she squeezed him that hard, pressing his forehead hard against hers again.

"You didn't feel fine before," he said, not willing to let this go, even as she said she was totally cool with boning him. It's the principle!!

[molotov]

"Well, neither did you," she answered, using her free hand to try and find his, so that she could move it to her breast. He was talking too much, they could be upstairs fucking already!

[samson]

"Yeah, and I stayed home," he said a little petulantly. He just wanted her to admit she'd been wrong, jeez! She was being so annoying right now, it was making him mad.

He did let her move his hand to her breast, though, even if he did squeeze her a little harder than she probably wanted.

[molotov]

She didn't want to admit anything, she just wanted to bang! Damn, stop it, Samson, you're being difficult.

Whining again, Molotov reached back up for his face, stroking inside his jeans now. "I didn't want to disturb you."

[samson]

He's all mad! And when Brock gets mad, sometimes he gets a little petulant. Especially when his lady is involved.

Despite his anger, Brock's expression slackened a little when she started touching him like that. Exhaling hard, he shook his head and leaned down to bite her mouth, then yanked her hand out of his jeans.

"Knock it off. You're not going to get on my good side with that."

[molotov]

She pouted when he did that, and her hand flexed uselessly in his grasp.

"I don't want to get on your good side," she said. "I just want you inside."

[samson]

Something about the way she said that just made him really mad. How dare she twist his words around or whatever she just did! Wordplay is annoying!!

So he pushes her back against the wall again. "Is that what you really want?" he hisses.

[molotov]

"Da," she gasped, happy, and smiled at him. "I really do."

[samson]

Abruptly grabbing her wrist (and casually zipping himself back up), Brock spun around and stalked over to the stairs, dragging her back to their room.

[molotov]

Molotov just followed, pleased and excited.

[samson]

And then they had some really violent, kinky sex and it was awwwwriiiight.