cuddlecity | If you want blood

CHARACTERS: Faith Lehane and You!
LOCATIONS: The Deviant
WARNINGS: Currently none, will update if that changes
SUMMARY: Faith and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

Faith Lehane was having a day. It wasn't anything huge that marked the day in question as particularly awful. Instead, it was the myriad little things that kept piling up one on top of the other to create an avalanche of bullshit that was threatining to roll downhill at any minute. From the waitress that kept spilling drinks on paying customers, to the drunken idiot that had grabbed her ass before she'd tossed him on his... she was itching to punch something in the worst way.

Before the urge could overwhelm her she'd retreated to the manager's office and sat at her desk for a drink and a time out. The whiskey was strong but not strong enough as the burn of it barely took the edge off. She thought back to her time in prison, the things she'd done to get out of her own head and push the darker urges back into their boxes, and tried utilizing the methods that had worked then. Whatever calm she'd been working toward, small as it had been, was shattered when she heard a tray of glasses smash just beyond her door less than five minutes in to her cool down.

With a bitten off curse she stood to leave her temporary sanctuary so she could assess the damage. Her least favorite waitress was in the middle of the wreckage and Faith's eyes narrowed. Her fingers twitched into a fist, flexed once as she tamped down on the urge to let fly, and released.

Not trusting in her ability to resist a second time meant walking away with little more than a ground out order to clean up the mess. It was on her way up to the front that she decided it was in the best interest of everyone that she find a way to resolve the building tension sooner rather than later. Whether it was going to be a fight or something else was where she was still open to suggestion.

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There's a grunt when he manages to grab her and she curses the fact that his arms are fucking tree trunks. Lumbering giant has a grip like steel and she twists as best she can to try and break free to no avail. If this were a real fight to the death, she'd be pulling a knife, she'd be going for his eyes, she'd be doing whatever she could to escape.

Except it isn't. There are no consequences here if she can't get loose but she's not ready to give up that easily and drives an elbow between his shoulder blades once, twice, a third time in her attempts.

Thor cursed at the elbow between the shoulder blades. She was starting to not hold back, and now, so was he. Though he would still stop short of causing her any real damage. While still holding onto Faith he seized the opportunity to surge forward and pin her between his wall of muscle and the outside wall of the dock.

There was an echoing thud as she hit, but he had also tried to make sure his hand hit the wall first to ease her impact against it.

The breath leaves her lungs in a rush while her heart jackhammers in her chest. Her legs wrap around his waist and she squeezes with everything she's got, locking her ankles together for leverage, the flat of her palm striking out against his sternum. It's a controlled hit because she's not sure exactly what he can take and she's not so far gone that she can't recognize his status as friend, not foe. The distinction isn't blurry in the least when she can still feel the hand he'd used to cushion her meeting with the wall.

Her fingers tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck and she tugs to expose his throat. If things had been different, if he'd been a threat, she'd have cut his throat but her hand remains empty and his skin remains unbroken. Faith shoves the thought away with the rest of the darker urges she's spent the better part of the last few years working through but her grip slackens with her distraction and she re-applies the pressure to his waist.

There's something about Faith that reminds Thor of Loki, but he's never quite wanted to acknowledge it. Perhaps he can see that constant struggle within her of dark versus light, but where Loki seemed to want to embrace chaos, she is erring towards the light. Well, until now perhaps but all is fair in battle.

Thor rolled his hips forward, unintentionally taking advantage of their present position. It was starting to dawn on him just how long it had been, and how the adrenaline that accompanied a fight nearly always stirred up needs of another kind. Faith was attractive, and dangerous and he was beginning to like that about her.

Before he could get too carried away with just mindlessly grinding against her, he wriggled out of her hold and dropped her to the ground, trusting that she would land on her feet. Thor took a deep breath, hands moving to push back the loose hair that was obscuring his vision. This was not the fight he had agreed to.

No one knows better than she does what kind of appetites a good fight can work up. She hates him a little for the roll of his hips and almost hates him even more when he stops. It's not something she has too much time to dwell on when that need to tear something apart, while diminished, is still there. When she finds herself falling, she drops down into a crouch and watches him, calculating the next move. Is there a next move? Is he tapping out?

"You calling it quits? Because I'm not spent yet." She can't help the suggestive nature of the comment and wouldn't apologize for it even if she could. It's part of who she is.

There's a moment where her side aches as she rises to her full height again, it's just not enough to discourage her from continuing on. "I could do this all night."

If you want blood | OTA

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