[Memory] Gimme the Benny Stuff (Benton)

Aziza meets a drug dealer

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Anaxas' main trade port; it is also the nation's criminal headquarters, home to the Bad Brothers and Silas Hawke, King of the Underworld. The small town of Plugit is nearby.

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Aziza
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Joined: Wed Jul 04, 2018 6:29 pm
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Sat Jul 21, 2018 7:51 pm

Loshis 15, 2715
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He seated himself in the nearby chair, drawing out a cigarette and lighting it. She leaned slightly closer, silently inhaling some of the scent as the dried leaves ignited. It would be cheeky to ask for a puff, she knew that, and in any case, she preferred to smoke a particular sort of substance; she doubted he was smoking anything hallucinogenic anyway. He sat smoking and watching her, thinking the matter over but she didn't miss where his eyes went, the girl unthinkingly following his gaze to her skin. When she looked up again, she caught his eye for a moment, saw the brightness there, the excitement. She blinked, dark brown eyes widening even as he averted his grey ones.

Well.

She bit her lip again, rolling it back and forth between her teeth, changing to a frown as he explained how little her trade was truly worth. One month for three Chroven Hearts. Oh yes, sure, he'd give her more because of where they came from, trust her on that, but it was disappointing to learn all the same. It was disconcerting actually. How little were some of the things in her kint worth? As it stood, the new kenser they'd gotten or possibly the kint itself were the most valuable things she possessed - for her lifestyle and trade both. Hopefully, she could acquire some things that were worth trading, or maybe it was these humans who undervalued what she held. She liked to think that wicks had a better sense of what was valuable.

The witch didn't like the idea of cutting it and losing a quarter of what was there. Half a month was a fair chunk and she really had hoped to get the whole lot. She suspected he was being somewhat kind, offering her extra in the hopes that she'd be hooked, more likely to be a return customer. If she promised him custom in the future, the young woman didn't think that'd cut it. Another half month for a few words. He didn't know that her word was good, didn't know that she was trustworthy and reliable.

Aziza considered him closely, his manner bringing a darker hue to her cheeks, a flutter in her belly as he looked at her from under hooded lids. She licked her lips, dark gaze dropping to her lap and the bright, multi-coloured patches of her skirt. She traced a dark green leaf pattern on one of the pale green segments, puffing her cheeks out before letting the air rush out from between her lips.

"Creative, oes. Maybe," she murmured, letting her fingers walk to a new section closer to the bottom, a red-orange shade that complemented her skin tone. She rested her hand there, splaying her fingers as she found the hem, tips teasing it as she recalled the brightness in his gaze. The hemline crept up, the spoke's expression thoughtful as more of her skin was exposed. The young woman moved her legs slightly, one angled in a new way so that if he looked that way, he would likely see up the garment.

Her eyes found his face once more, head tilted as she considered him. There was nothing coy about her expression, especially not when she leaned closer, perched above him as she was he was likely to have quite a pleasant view. However, he might not have expected her to reach out, hand tilted as if she might stroke his cheek but shifting at the last moment to attempt to pluck the cigarette from his grasp. If he didn't stop her, surprised as he was likely to be, then she would place it between her own lips, drawing from it slowly before she turned it back to him.

"I have a kint, I'll be on the move soon. I can get ye information, move things around for ye but ye ent got reason to trust me like that, have you?" Aziza murmured, pausing with her skirt covering mere inches of her thighs. "Business is good, kov, I get that. But I told you: ent nothing wrong with a bit of pleasure."

She felt the suggestion was clear, far from subtle and she knew it. She wasn't good at this sort of thing, far more inclined to be aggressive and simply push. He was no wick though and she wasn't in a good position to negotiate, she felt. His desire to cling to business made things difficult. She could offer herself and it could spook him. However, the witch couldn't forget that light in his eyes, the giddiness, the excitement.

"Am I worth your half month, Eon? Feel free to look over the product. I won't bite... less ye want me to, o' course."

She stretched a leg out, moving to place one heel on the arm of the chair he occupied, chewing her lip as she waited, wondering, expectant.

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Benton Borteillo
Posts: 99
Joined: Mon Jul 09, 2018 11:15 pm
Topics: 8
Race: Human
Occupation: Mr. Drug Dealer Drug Man- retiring.
: aka EON, Roswell Godfrey
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Sun Jul 22, 2018 4:26 pm

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Loshis 15, 2715....
Business before pleasure, Benton.

Yet, this was business, wasn't it? She needed to pay, he needed payment. If this was the payment, well, he wouldn't protest. He certainly wasn't a man of many morals. Whatever happened tonight wouldn't haunt him the next day, nor would he find himself thinking about it weeks in the future. It was just another night.

Another night of business.

He watched her fingers move with such an assured purpose along the hem of her skirt, observed it climbing her thighs with a warm amusement projecting color into the skin of his face. The fire that had ignited in his belly grew, and he let it grow. Now sure of her intentions, he watched her hands and legs without any shame, the corner of his mouth playing upwards as the cigarette hung loosely in between his lips. He leaned an elbow onto the arm of the chair closest to the counter, spreading his legs widely in both a relaxed and, daresay, welcoming way. He didn't move to hasten her act, however, as she toyed with her skirt. This was her payment to him, after all. He wouldn't work until his work in the barter was necessary. He could wait; he was a patient man.

Benton's eyes only trailed up her body to her face as she leaned forward on the counter towards him, slowly, everso slowly. His left brow raised inquisitively as he watched her, letting her take whatever lead and liberty she needed to as her hand reached out for his face. The cigarette, however, was easily pulled from between his lips. A slight surprise gripped him momentarily, enough to leave him defenseless. He exhaled a huff of near silent mirth, his smirk spreading to reveal a playful smile as he ran his tongue over his teeth. He shook his head as she drew on it, taking it back gingerly as she handed through the smoke and began to break the absolutely terribly long silence that teased him.

"Worth half a month, hm?" he pondered seriously, eyeing her leg as she placed it on the arm of the chair, directly before his face. His eyes ran the length of it until they reached her own face as she gazed at him, her intentions so clearly painted now if they hadn't been earlier. He took a final drag of his cigarette before grinding it into the arm of the chair not occupied by her foot.

"We'll see what you're worth in a bit, won't we?" he inquired softly, not looking up from his cigarette. He flicked it away before placing a hand on her ankle softly and watching his fingers trace her dark skin, smooth and warm, as he stood. His hand didn't lose contact for a moment as he closed the distance between his body and hers on the counter. His other hand occupied itself on her other leg as he wetted his lips with his tongue subconsciously. His hands rested on the top of her thighs while his thumbs continued their exploration. He took his time meeting her eyes, now taking in her body their intentions in mind before settling on her flushed face. He tilted his head to the side, a lopsided grin revealing the lonely dimple on the left side of his face beneath his peppered scruff. There were mere centimeters of empty air between their faces, and Benton could feel her breath like the first snowfall on his face and neck. At this distance, he could readily appreciate the vast drama brought to her face by the flickering shadows as the light of the sconces licked every edge and dip of her face. Her face was not one to be forgotten.

"Show me what you're worth," he commanded softly. He wasn't a man who thought, for the sake of his masculinity, he needed to be in charge of such situations. No, he'd found plenty of pleasure in both passive and aggressive approaches; it all depended on his partner. Now, however, he simply hoped the wick wouldn't disappoint.
Last edited by Benton Borteillo on Tue Jul 24, 2018 7:36 pm, edited 2 times in total.
In hell I'll be in good company.
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Aziza
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Sun Jul 22, 2018 6:53 pm

Loshis 15, 2715
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He wasn't oblivious to what was on offer here, not judging by how open his appraisal of her had become. His eyes were as good as a physical touch, a shiver passing through her body as readily as if he'd trailed a finger over her skin. It made her genuinely feel like she was up for sale here. It wasn't like the idea of being with him was anathema to her; hadn't she thought about it even before she'd found it necessary to make this offer? In truth, she hadn't needed to make this offer. The witch could simply have taken the month and a half's worth of Coca Tea and parted ways with the drug dealer. She couldn't deny that she was attracted to him and at least a little curious. The man seemed inclined to keep people at arm's length and she was tempted to see if she could tempt him to drop his shields. Again. She'd already had a glimpse behind them when she'd read his palms earlier after all.

She was pleased to see his surprise when she took his cigarette but was glad that he seemed to find the humour in it. It was a good sign, a sign that he wasn't as wooden as he was trying to make himself seem. He'd certainly been trying to distance himself but she wouldn't allow such a thing. No, she would simply have to see about coaxing him out of his shell.

His hand on her ankle provided an interesting contrast, his skin seeming ludicrously pale beside her own, wan and sickly, but in spite of their look, they were full of life. There was a pleasant warmth to his fingertips, hands exploring her legs in a casual, unhurried manner. Aziza didn't know whether to be offended or impressed by the fact that he wasn't simply flinging himself at her. True, he had her now and she wasn't going anywhere so Benton could take his time but he was a man; he might be intentionally controlled but she'd still expected some eagerness.

She reached out, fingers lightly circling the single dimple before she cupped his face, palm firm but gentle as she leaned in, lips brushing his own. She drew back, a scant inch or two between their faces, dark brown eyes heavily hooded.

"I do hope I can show you a thing or two," she murmured against his mouth, moving to wrap her arms around his neck and twine strong legs around his waist. "I'd hate to be the only one getting something out of this, hama," she added, a smirk quirking her lips even as she returned them to his face.

Her hands moved to the back of his neck, creeping towards his hair, eager to wind her fingers into it as she simply allowed her instincts to take over. It wasn't like he was the first person she'd been with but she didn't necessarily make a habit of this sort of thing either. If her mother could see her now, she'd be far from approving but to the deep waters with her mother! Nazia couldn't stop her from doing what she wanted and by Hulali, she wanted this. To drink in his scent and warmth, to feel his flesh against her own was wonderful and she wouldn't be letting him go until she'd drank her fill. One hand trailed down, ready to fumble at the buttons on his shirt, to slip inside and explore the new terrain by touch alone, curious to discover if he was one of those exceptionally hairy men or merely downy. She wanted to know if he was as solid as he looked or if that was all demeanour.

Aziza wanted most of all to elicit a reaction and as she kissed and touched him, doing her best to draw him into her curvaceous figure, she doubted that he would be able to resist, no matter how much self-control he might wish to maintain. If those walls could be toppled she'd do it or damn well make them tremble in the trying!
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Benton Borteillo
Posts: 99
Joined: Mon Jul 09, 2018 11:15 pm
Topics: 8
Race: Human
Occupation: Mr. Drug Dealer Drug Man- retiring.
: aka EON, Roswell Godfrey
Character Sheet: Character Sheet
Plot Notes: Plot Notes
Writer: Quix
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Contact:

Tue Jul 24, 2018 9:13 pm

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Loshis 15, 2715....
The warmth of Aziza's body against his and the kiss that sent a forest fire raging down the branches of his neurons melted all of the cold that slipped under the door of the fabric shop. He had pushed her skirt up the few short inches that it still covered, revealing the rest of her dark flesh, the areas of her body typically forbidden to eyes revealing themselves at the pressure of his hands against her body. His touch became more aggressive, and, when she finished speaking, his return of the kiss was his only, buy clear, response. It was passionate, hungry, his face crashing into hers. He wasn't in a hurry, no. He liked to draw things out, test the patience, endurance, and limits of both himself and his partners, to build the suspense, the pressure of such a vivid emotion and experience as lust. Yet, he found talk and idle prattle unnecessary. His body could tell her all she needed to know, whether his responses were intentional or simply instinctive, animalistic, and uncontrolled. He would hold onto what little control he had over his body as long as he could.

The distance that had once existed between their bodies was nonexistent as her legs pulled him flush against the counter and his own desires drew him into her body, to take in the heat radiating off of her, to take in her smell and the way her hair, skin, and clothes felt against his body, and let it all soak into his very skin, his very essence. His skin buzzed with electricity just under the surface of every inch hers came into contact with, his neck burning as her hands moved to grasp the back of it. The edges of his mouth rose like wings to smirk against her lips as he felt one of her hands trail down his chest to fumble the buttons of his shirt. In response, he took the opportunity to run one his hands up her body, up over her hips, under her shirt to lift the fabric up, to release the heat there emanating from the furnace of her fluttering stomach. The hand would travel around her body like a conquistador to brace her back as he leaned further into her. His other hand would find itself entangled in her braids.

She was hungry for him, but he didn't mind. It wasn't typical for someone trading their body for drugs to be so absolutely aggressive, passionate, and seemingly genuine in their lust, their attentiveness, their want. Usually, they were void, blank, and just wanting to get it over with. Perhaps Aziza was simply a good actor or a whore, but Benton would dismiss the notion and easily convince himself otherwise as he pushed his waist harder into her open legs. He exerted himself into the deal. He may as well enjoy it tonight. One night, nothing more. He had to get his fill. When her hand would finally manage to open the vault of his shirt, he'd shake it away to the floor, allowing her hands to explore a spattering of dark hair across his pectorals. Her initiative signaled to him to take his own; he broke away the long-lived kiss to leave a few light ones on her jawline before moving down to her neck, drawing long, warm kisses down her neck to its deep crook, putting slightly more aggression into each one, a nip or pull at her skin accompanying now and again. Not enough to leave a mark, no; this girl was not his, and he wouldn't brand her as such. Neither of them needed more than a memory of the night and the drugs they traded to follow them in the coming days.

It was sex, not love, and that fact was clear in Benton's mind. There were no strings attached, not if he could help it. He would feel nothing for this girl other than the lust that pulsed through his belly and his groin, the lust that powered his greedy fingers in that moment and every moment of the night that followed. This was just another girl he'd kiss, another girl he'd spill himself inside, another girl he'd never see again neither before his eyes or embedded in the folds of his mind. She meant little to him except for the feelings of euphoria and pleasure that her body provided to his. He had played this game before, and he had always won.

Yet, as his body held onto the heat of her body as if it were haunting him, as the smell of her hair clung to his hands and clothes, as the way the shadows and his fingers had touched every edge of her face replayed and immortalised themselves in the scrapbooks of memories... well, he only hoped this girl would return to being just another face in the sea of eyes staring back at him.


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a_PoCGDfxHs
In hell I'll be in good company.
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