she is absolutely not cut off. she still has a mostly undrunk beer in front of her and she'll be damned if she doesn't try to nurse it. but to be quite honest, she's already losing interest in it, absorbed instead in that stupid grin in front of her. 

"but we can talk about it, surely. about your fantasies."

KING WAYLAND

☉

"hmm." she chuckles. "i still remember the look on your face 'hen i flipped you." wrapped her legs right around his face and tossed him backside. 

not that she'd won the fight, at the end of the day. 

"i thought you liked that."

KING WAYLAND

☉

her eyes narrow. didn't expect him to turn the tables around so quickly on her. it's hard to surprise him, harder still to make him blush.

she drapes her arms over the bar and cocks her head to the side, looks up at him through her lashes. "and what if i said i did."

KING WAYLAND

☉

it would be so much easier if they didn't have the whole stretch of bar between them. she knows better than to skirt behind it, though, especially when it's busy. and when she's had a few drinks.

well, there is one thing he likes.

but she hasn't had enough to reduce herself to begging just yet. instead, she sits back up and brushes her hair off her shoulder. 

"that's a shame, dear, because i was so excited to tell you mine."

KING WAYLAND

☉

and that's the most maddening part about all of it. he's not taking the bait. he is so ridiculously infuriating because she can't make him want her. maybe he wouldn't be able to stop himself from leaping over the bar if she started stripping her clothes off then and there, but he'd probably be more concerned for her sanity before anything else.

so she stops playing coy. she's never been very good at it. a dragon doesn't skirt around the sidelines, hissing about what it wants. no, a dragon takes. 

it's over, when he leans in. he's called her princess and he's entered her personal bubble and now it's over. 

because she is reaching for his jaw and she is twisting her head and she is biting into his lower lip and drawing herself closer, elbows up on the bar, back arched. 

just the two of them, everything else forgotten.

KING WAYLAND

☉

am not, she says, but it comes out as "mmmnnmm," instead when she parts her lips and presses her tongue to his teeth. he draws back and her eyes narrow, fingers curling tighter against his jaw to tug him back under. she's forgotten where they are.

he's talking to someone else and she really must be drunk because it takes her a moment to piece it together, another moment still to release him from her grasp. she grins wildly and slips off of her bar stool without another word.

he has to go around the bar to follow, so she has a head start. her hips sway. eyes follow her. of course they do. but she's ignorant of them. too ravenous for her own good, climbing stairs and waiting impatiently by the elevator to his flat.

KING WAYLAND

☉

at his exclamation, there's a roll of her eyes, annoyance and appreciation mingled together in a taut thread. it usually is, with the things he says and does. she doesn't toss a look over her shoulder; she knows he's behind her by the cast-aside glances of those nearest her. 

but still she gasps when his hands come around her waist, breath hot in her ear. her hands go back, brushing hips, still prepared to make him want her as the elevator doors close behind them.

she's not expecting it. the linoleum walls of the elevator show a distorted face, her lips parted in an oh of surprise. a hum in the back of her throat as he ravishes her neck. she stares hungrily at the predatory shape of his form in the mirror; the rough lines of his muscled arms, flexed to keep her wrists pinned above her; his hard back, arched as his hips push into hers. 

there's little she can do, pinned as she is, and so she relishes the heat on her neck. pulls uselessly at his hold.

"so i'm yours now, hm?" she says, breath hitching. color flushes her cheeks. "prove it."

KING WAYLAND

☉