☠ 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]

"I do not have that here, and besides, I think you could do with a biology lesson," she informed him, completely misunderstanding, and pressed herself to him, giving his tie a light yank so that he'd bend down closer to her. "We could do it in the library... or the elevator... or the floor..."

[gottaknockhard]

He leaned easily when she pulled his tie, mostly because he was stunned into compliance. She wasn't going to beat around the bush, was she?

"Biology, huh?" Stalling seemed like his best option until whatever it was wore off.

[molotov]

"Do they not have that in your world?" she asked, beginning to unbutton his shirt without breaking eye contact. "That is nothing to worry about. You do not need to know the science."

[gottaknockhard]

Spike made a grab for he wrist when she got to the third button; like it took that long for him to take her seriously. Which meant that she'd gone insane and actually wanted to sleep with him in the middle of the lobby. Figured the castle wouldn't stop at kissing.

"I'm not really in the mood."

[molotov]

Spike may have grabbed her wrist, but Molotov released his tie and went for his fly instead, keeping their eyes locked.

"I can fix that," she purred, working to prove it, and moved to press her mouth to his.

[gottaknockhard]

That gesture shifted his focus pretty quickly. Spike dropped his hand and awkwardly pulled his hips back, but maybe not fast enough to discourage her. This was Molotov, for christsake, they could barely stand each other's company -- he was about to speak again to remind her when her mouth got in the way. Subtlety wasn't working, so he placed his hands on her shoulders and physically tried to pull her back.

"Down girl," he managed to say. "What's gotten into you?"

[molotov]

"Not you... yet," she easily shot back, advancing on him again. There was something different in her eye, something focussed and convincing as she watched him.

[gottaknockhard]

That reply seemed to be all it took to lift any lingering confusion, and a sly smile spread across his face as his gaze locked on her eye. Fooling around with his friend's wife wasn't such a bad idea; he always did enjoy a risk, especially when the prize was tantalizing enough.

"Nobody likes a tease," he murmured. The hands on her shoulders trailed down her arms in reluctance to let go and he leaned into her.

[molotov]

Plus, hadn't being involved in romantic triangles worked out so well for him in the past? Ah, magic, never stop making people ruin their own lives for no reason.

"I could be saying the same to you," she cooed, beaming now, and pressed herself back to him, sliding her arms around his neck.

[gottaknockhard]

He was starting to build a reputation. But he could worry about that at a time when there wasn't a beautiful dangerous woman wrapped around him. Who could blame him?

"That's something I need to work on," he responded while bending down to kiss her with renewed enthusiasm.

[molotov]

He should just wear a button, 'Don't leave any women you love around me'.

Making a terribly pleased noise, Molotov kissed back hard, her fingers curling in his hair as he returned to unbuttoning his shirt. What is patience!!!

[gottaknockhard]

Apparently he just can't control himself around forbidden women.

Which goes without saying as he made no more objections to her undressing him in the middle of the lobby. His hands eventually found their way to the exposed skin on small of her back, as he attempted to pull her in even closer against him, all while never breaking away from the kiss.

[samson]

Spike, do you hear that sound? The sound that's gradually becoming louder, like a freight train barreling toward you?

It's your imminent doom.

Actually it's Brock, who conveniently saw all this happening from outside, through the front doors, and is currently sprinting full-tilt toward the castle. Meanwhile he's doing this thing that can only be described as roaring in fury, grabbing the dagger at his hip as he crosses the threshold.

[molotov]

Molotov does not notice the mack truck of rage that is her husband coming toward them. It could be because, by this time, she already has Spike's shirt open and her hand down his trousers. No, seriously. Right there in the lobby. She was serious about the whole thing.

[gottaknockhard]

It's pretty unfortunate for Spike that he's paying more attention to the hands in his trousers than Brock coming right for them. In hindsight, it would have been a good idea to at least take her to the elevator, but Spike doesn't quite see it yet.

Case in point, he's helpfully pulling off the rest of his shirt and throwing it near Brock's feet around the time he approaches.

[samson]

Unfortunate, nothing! It's helpful of Spike to just keep standing there, making out with Brock's wife. It's harder to hit a moving target.

Did Brock ever mention that he played football in college? Because he just sort of lunges at Spike, the momentum from having sprinted all the way inside and across the lobby turning it from a simple tackle to a 250-pound flying projectile.

[molotov]

From the very corner of her eye, Molotov manages to notice Brock flying at them. She frowns unhappily, gives Spike a final squeeze, then steps away just in time to completely avoid her own husband soaring through the air to crash into the space she was previously occupying. Goddamn it, Brock, you're fucking everything up!

[gottaknockhard]

That really would have been the perfect time to sidestep Brock before he barrels into and crushes Spike's 155-pound body. As it is, he barely has time to glance his way, let alone come to his senses, before that happens.

The plus side, is among the worst kind of pain that comes from being tackled in the middle of what he was in the middle of, his brain starts processing again.

"Brock?" He sort-of says. It mostly comes out a pained groan ending in a question as he struggles to keep conscious long enough to avoid being pummeled to death.

[samson]

Ordinarily, Brock would probably just strangle Spike a little bit and then leave. You know, because they're bros.

But right now, his vision has gone literally red. He hasn't felt this pissed off in awhile, and it feels good. Which is pretty unfortunate for Spike, really, because he pulls back his fist and punches him hard right in the face.

[molotov]

Molotov, out of the line of fire, grabs the back of Brock's collar and pulls at him, trying to tug him off Spike for only the most selfless and angelic of reasons.

"Samson, stop!" she whines, yanking as hard as she can, which is still pretty strong. "I cannot fuck him if you break him into a million pieces!"

[gottaknockhard]

He's already fucked -- at least those are his dim thoughts as he lie there feeling like he broke half of his ribs and possibly his nose, judging from the rush of blood that comes streaming down his face at that first punch. Getting murdered may have been inevitable, but he really thought it'd go a different way.

Spike raises an arm up to signal that he's not fighting back, but he's not expecting that to do much, honestly. A couple more hits like that and he's not going to be conscious enough to care what happens.

[samson]

Maybe Spike should stop letting other men's ladies get their hands on his junk. Spike, what are your life choices. Really.

Brock is completely ignoring Spike's signals of surrender, and is about to jam his thumbs in his eyes when Molotov distracts him. So, he turns on her instead, leaving Spike to bleed over there and struggle for consciousness. He'll apologize ... later. Maybe.

It depends.

But right now he just grabs Molotov by the throat with both hands. "You fuck anybody else and I will kill everyone in the fucking castle."

[molotov]

Molotov honestly doesn't respond to being choked except to squeeze her thighs together and close her eye for a moment (she really likes being choked). But she frowns anyway, and opens her eye again to pout at Brock.

"You don't fuck me enough!" she informs him, her voice scratchy and strangled. "I need more, I need everyone else too."

[gottaknockhard]

Spike watches Brock turn on Molotov through half-closed eyes, vaguely wondering if he should do something about that. Moving would be a good start while he decides, so he sums up the energy to roll halfway over and props himself up with one arm.

He'd say something, but he needs to catch the blood coming out his nose before it stains the carpet. Even then, He ends up coughing up the portion he swallowed.

Keep arguing, sliding away is going to take a few minutes.

[samson]

Spike might want to take this opportunity to escape. Or stop Brock from strangling his wife to death, sure. They're both really good options.

Brock just keeps choking her, meanwhile, not even registering Spike's presence anymore. What was he so mad about? All he sees is Molotov and the red halo around her. "Maybe if you didn't piss me off so much --"

The joke is that everything pisses him off right now.