Who: flying_squirrel - Eliza Dushku, remanufacture - Chino Moreno
Where: Chino's private workshop
When: Current



The parts Chino had been waiting on were delayed in shipping - something about them not meeting weight standards for their size - and he takes off from work early for once, skating home to where he knows Eliza's waiting. It's something he's gotten used to, something he looks forward to now. Funny how it happens so fast.

All day, she's kind of stared at that one door that's always closed. She hasn't even tried the knob, though she's wanted to. It's not even that she thinks he's hiding anything from her. It's just that there's been this closed door and if her life at Lindemann taught her anything, it's that closed doors are Bad News.

So, she just stops by the door, just touching the knob, just for a second, when it twists and opens and she realizes what it is. A workshop. Of course.

She shouldn't go in. She knows this. If Chino wanted her to see it, he'd show her. And he hasn't.

But.

Just for a second, that's all. Just a second and she'll shut the door and it'll be like nothing ever happened. She just opens the door wide enough to slip inside. Just for a second. A minute, tops.

Chino shoulders up his board, resting his wrists on the edges of it like an old set of stocks. He's even humming when he gets off the elevator, finally swinging his board down so he can get his keys out of his pocket. Unlocking the door, he calls, smiling just a bit, "Hey? H- hey, I got off early..."

With the door mostly shut, she doesn't hear him. The room is kind of an organized chaos, she thinks, as she walks slowly and carefully toward one of the long tables littered with papers and drawings and parts that she has no clue what they go to. It's kind of totally fascinating to see the kind of stuff he works on, she thinks. Evidence of how his mind works.

She isn't anywhere that he can see in his condo. But- fuck. Jesus fuck. His workshop door is open, just a bit. Oh god, she didn't. He forgot to lock it. There are things in there that are functional, are dangerous, are reminders of what Chino should be doing with his life, instead of destroying his life with. "Eliza." Flat. "Get out."

The small ... something... she's holding gets dropped and she freezes, feeling the equivalent of a cold wind down her back. "Shit," she mutters under her breath, wiping her hands on her sweatpants. She knew she shouldn't have done this. She knew it. Shit.

Quickly, she eases back out the door and shuts it behind herself, only looking at him in passing; her eyes keep veering to the floor. "I shouldn't have gone in there-- I'm really sorry--"

Chino speaks slowly, doing his very best to keep his tone calm. "Eliza. What were you doing in my workshop?" He makes sure the door's firm-shut, jamming a key in the lock and twisting it sharply closed. Not that it matters... she's been in. She's seen what he's working on. She's seen what he can really do, in nights strung out with no sleep, and his calm falters. "G- go huh- home."

"I was just looking! I was only in there for a second and then you got home. I won't go in there again." Eliza can't help frowning. She'd apologized. What's going on? "Why? Why do you want me to go home?" Home? That shit apartment? Which isn't home. This is home.

To be completely honest, Chino doesn't know. He just knows that he can't look her in the eyes right now. She could be telling the truth (and why wouldn't she, comes the voice that believes in her, that loves her), but the voice that's wary, that's paranoid of what her intentions could be, speaks the opposite. What if she'd been in there all day? What had she touched? What had she seen?

The lack of an answer gets her to look up, to take a step closer. "Chino? I said I was sorry. I said I won't go in there again. I want to talk about this. I want to talk about that room. I don't want to go home." Her hands are only shaking a little when she puts her hands on her hips and shakes her hair from her face.

"Didn't you t- trust me? D- did you have to g- go in there?" He doesn't even know how to feel, angry or upset or relieved. "Wh- what do you want to know?"

For a moment, Eliza doesn't answer because she doesn't even know what to ask. "Of course I trust you. Me going in there has nothing to do with trust and you know it." With a sigh, she pushes her hair back from her face. "What was on the walls in there?" She finally says. "It looked like something out of a sci-fi movie."

"Weapons," Chino answers, his voice low and strangled. "Weapons that- that I used to b- build. Just to s- see if I could. Why did you g- go in there?"

"Because it was a closed door?" She shrugs. It's a lame reason but it was the only reason. "Did Downey want weapons?" Nothing in his file said anything about weapons.

"You c- could have asked." Still choked, angry and ashamed and strange, and Chino turns his back to Eliza. "N- no. He didn't." Chino looks at the floor, lacing his fingers together at the back of his head. He's not sure how he feels about all of this, about her knowing what actually goes on inside his head when she's not here. It's never been an issue; he's lived alone for so long that trying to explain himself isn't something he's used to. "I m- made them because- because I could."

"Hey." Taking a couple steps closer, Eliza tentatively reaches out, wanting to touch him, but stopping short, since he seems wound so tight. She knows she did wrong, but she's trying now to understand. To fix things. Which isn't her strong suit. "I showed you my shit. I'm sorry I went in there. I'm sorry, okay? I told you I wouldn't do it again. But if you want to show me.... I want to know. I want to know whatever you want to tell me."

"I don't want to show you." He can't even look at her, see the look in her eyes, and shame seems to be the winning emotion in his voice, now. She'd done her job out of direction. She'd been good at it, sure, but it wasn't something she'd done because it was her career choice. He'd wanted to make these things, use them, and has only kept them as a reminder of what he used to be, never wanting to be that person again. "I th- think you should go. For now."

That sends Eliza back a step and it hurts, this. She's tried to fix it and he won't let it be fixed. And that hurts. She hides her pain with a small shrug. "Okay. If that's what you want. I'll go." But she doesn't move-- He needs to tell her to her face that he wants her to leave.

Fuck, fuck. It isn't what he wants, not really and truly, and maybe this is how Eliza felt when Chino pushed her for the truth. And to deny her the same thing would be pretty goddamn hypocritical, wouldn't it? He does turn, keeping his eyes down, and gestures helplessly at the door, his words feeling like ashes in his mouth. "If- if you want to go and l- look. Go." I owe you that much. You used weapons, I just made them. No biggie. Yeah, right. "And- and ask whatever y- you want." Fuck. He's all stiff-shouldered and tense-postured, jaw set and hands jammed into his pockets.

"I told you that I wasn't gonna go back in there, and I'm not gonna break my word to you," she tells him, taking all this in, how he's standing, how tight he is. How's that for trust, huh? Throw trust out there like that. "But if you want to go in there with me, then I'll go."

Chino doesn't say anything, not yay or nay, but it's almost as if he steels himself for her reaction when he puts a palm between her shoulderblades to lead her back into his workshop. His workshop, when the only other person that's been in there was Mr. Downey, and that was only very briefly, god, three years ago? Almost four? "This is- this is how it works." It, being the ratchety machine in his head, all cogs and gears and loud mechanical noises that leap between fiction and reality. "If- if something- if someone has an idea, I can b- build it." His voice is still so low that it sounds like maybe he's going to be sick. "It's n- not always good."

Looking around again, Eliza points to the wall. "So like that gun. You saw that idea and you built it." It's his skill, she knows. But she hadn't thought of the ... danger that might come from it. There's no judgment in her voice, much like how he talked to her. She just wants him to trust her. Though, truth told, the weapons are gnarly-ass and look really fucking dangerous.

"Th- that was one of the last things I built. I-" Chino closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. He's not what she'd him up as in her head, he can be dangerous, just like the gun he pulls off the wall. It's a good almost-forty pounds of functional metal, an assault rifle hybrid with a chainsaw. "Th- this is a Lancer. I saw the- the concept artwork for a game called G- Gears of War. I thought it'd be cool." He holds it like it was made just for him, which really, it was, and it feels really, really rotten in his hands. He puts it back, pointing to another, feeling the words trip and echo on his tongue. "Th- that one's from F.E.A.R. You sh- shoot that thing, and your- your target's nothing but-" Chino looks away from Eliza, from the wall in front of them. "-a ch- charred skeleton. Type Seven Particle weapon." He adds, "I keep them to remind m- myself."

Damn. The assassin in Eliza is sizing each of those up and finding them good. But what is stronger than that is how her gut twists at Chino looks. The sound of his voice. He is that person; the one she thought of when she was locked away. He is. "Remind yourself of what?" She asks, in a whisper, turning to look at his face.

"That I have to- that not everything I build is- is good. That I c- can't let myself go too far." He leans against one of the tables, rubbing his palms over his face. "I d- don't think I'd slept in- in almost a week. I don't remember sleeping. I r- remember being in here, I remember h- how badly I wanted to- to fire one of these." Finally, finally, he looks up at Eliza. "This is- this is where- God, I f- feel like a mad scientist." He lets out a weak laugh. "Where I b- build things. It's like... m- meditating, for me. It makes everything quiet. There's stuff in- in here that would g- get me - us - in a lot of trouble if it was- if it was found, you know?"

No shit. Watching his face, she walks up to him and cups it, her fingers cradling the line of his jaw. Her face is solemn and her brow is furrowed and she just looks for a moment. "... do you trust me?" She finally asks. This time, though, there's a hell of a lot more at stake than pancakes.

Miserably, Chino nods.

"I won't tell anybody. And I won't come back in here." Kisses, first to his forehead, then his eyes, his cheeks, lingering at his mouth, where she whispers three words into his breath. Seeing this didn't change that. How could it? Please.

"I n- never wanted to disappoint you." Chino's words are equally soft, taken in on Eliza's breath, in response to those words of hers. "I was a m- mess. I still work at it. To n- not be that way." His hands are shaking - and that never happens - when he brings them up to Eliza's shoulders, to hold her right there at a safe distance, a safe closeness. "You- you quiet me."

And that is about the nicest thing Eliza thinks he can say to her. Resting her forehead against his, she smiles, just a little, arms going around his neck -- don't shake, it's okay, baby -- "I'm glad," she answers, looking at him close up.

She only gets to look for a moment, before Chino kisses her, all but shivering in her arms for how naked this makes him feel, to admit it, to show her the parts of himself that are broken, that he's still working on fixing. Fixing, by reminding himself of what he could have been or could have done. She's seen him now as much as he's seen her, and maybe it's okay.

Maybe it is. Eliza kisses him back and it's the strangest feeling; like she's taking care of him for a change. "It's okay," she tells him between kisses. "It's okay, baby." More kisses and she says, "let's get out of here. Come on." Somewhere where he won't shake and she can hold him. Toward the door that they can lock behind themselves.

Chino lets her lead him out, thinking about how this must all look to her - what serves as a wake-up call to Chino could be construed as something entirely different to someone who'd killed people for a living; he hadn't missed the look in her eyes, appraising his work, his failure as a person. And she doesn't see him that way, and any anger that he'd felt upon finding her there gone, lost on the bow of her mouth, the look in her eyes, the way she touches him. Chino sits on the couch, flashing an apologetic look at Eliza as he rolls up. Something, anything, to soothe how he feels.

When he does that, she climbs onto the couch, knees pulled up, draping herself over his shoulders, chin resting there. Speaking quietly, so to not spook him, she asks, the smile apparent in her voice, "you trying to get me high again?"

"If- if you want to, sure." Chino finds a smile for Eliza from god-knows-where, even if it's shadowy and weak, and tips his head against hers for a moment. "'member what- what happened last time?" The first pull on it is like heaven, or the closest thing to it that he can get that doesn't directly involve Eliza. Which is a pretty fucking shmoopy thought, and he chuffs out his second drag in a little laugh. She knows. She knows and she's still here. And why would he doubt her, when he'd done exactly the same for her?

"I remember all of it," she answers, smiling a little bit too, her chest pressed to his ribs. "So you got to come home early tonight." A switch to a different -- safer -- topic. "Hellboy's on TV tonight. And we can order pizza, huh?" A kiss to the shell of his ear. "Hang out?"

"Yeah. The Blu-Ray just c- came out for the second one... g- got it over there." Chino waves his hand at a bookshelf lined with DVD's, CD's and Blu-Rays. "We can- we can watch the first one tonight." He moves Eliza around so her legs are over his lap and he can have an arm around her shoulders, handing the joint over to her. "S- some parts for a project I'm working on didn't- didn't come in, so I got to come home early." He looks her in the eye, and there isn't anything negative there but worry. "How l- long were you in there? Before I- I got home, I mean."

And here she thought it was done. "Like... sixty seconds, Chino," she says, the tiniest bit of exasperation showing, before she inhales as much as she can, holding it -- not coughing! -- and blowing it out. "A minute tops."

And now, it is done; he believes her, can tell from the look in her eye. "'kay." While she smokes, he orders the pizza, giving Eliza another taste of the doo-dads he works on, and has used to modify his own place. Instead of using the phone, Chino raises his voice just a bit, just enough that it's like voice-dialing. Nothing special, but definitely convenient when he's got her over him. Once pizza's ordered and the television's on, he takes the joint back, kissing Eliza between inhaling and exhaling, his mouth soft and tasting like pot. "I'm- I'm glad that... that I didn't make you leave." She can tell that he's starting to get himself back together, chill and calm, with the way his stutter loosens.

"Me too." Resting an elbow on his shoulder, she catches his chin and just looks at him, from close up. There's one thing she hasn't told him. One little thing that isn't really so little. She could tell him now, about being caught after he saved her, about being locked away and trained. About how she could probably use any of the weapons he made.

But she doesn't. Eliza smiles a little and kisses Chino back. "You'll have to work harder next time," she says, teasing.

Only barely an hour after getting home and Eliza finding the ugly bits of Chino, here they are, comfortable on his couch, stoned, waiting for pizza. Huh. "I don't want you to go. I w- want you to be here, in case I need to do this-" He turns, catching Eliza in his hands, planting a teasing kiss to her jaw, a hand on her breast. "-or this-" His hand slides down to her hip, pulling her a little closer. "-or this." His voice softens as he brushes Eliza's hair back from her face, and kisses her again properly, slow and savouring.

"Mmm." Laughing into the press of mouths. "You need to grab my tits?" Smile to a smirk, she asks, "did you jack off at work, baby?" Deep and dark in her tone, eyes slitted. "Thinking about me?" Yeah, this is better. This is way better.

"Always," Chino answers, solemnly, before his eyebrows go up at her second question. "W- what, are you spying on me at work now?" It's a relief, that she's not acting any different, that the pot mellows him - them - both out to a level of comfortable that he can actually joke with her. "I was th- thinking about, uh. Spyner's. When- when we, you know. In the bathroom." And now, just as at lunch, the thought of it has Chino feeling a little heated, his cock stirring in his pants. What the hell.

"Not spying, no." Though she does wonder if she'll ever visit him at work. For a ton of reasons, she doubts it. "But that's a good thought, huh?" The tell-tale jerking has her smiling. "What about that time got you all worked up, huh?"

He raises an eyebrow as far as it'll go, which, with the way his eyes are slitted and bloodshot, isn't very far. "Wh- what time was that?" Chino shuffles Eliza a little closer, so they're almost talking against each other's skin. "That's like... t- twenty-four seven around you." This is easy, this isn't having to deal with messy bits and broken parts. This is comfortable. Also, smoking hot.

"I turn you on," she answers, moving so she's straddling his lap, forearms on his shoulders, words breathed over his mouth. "Good. I'm glad." All she has to do is lean forward and close the distance and kiss him, so that his head falls back onto the sofa and she can lean over him, chest pressed to his, hands finding his so their fingers are entwined. He's hers. And she aims to show him that.

She's pervaded his dreams, his waking thoughts; Eliza's never far from Chino's mind, or from the sense-memory of her skin under his fingertips. He raises his hips just to show her how right she is, squeezing her fingers, pulling her hands behind her back when he reaches around to cup her ass, to pull her firmly down against the arch of his erection, with a low, muffled, "Mmh."

"Mmm." With a little bit of show of strength, she pulls his hands back til his hands are pinned to the sofa. "You ever been blindfolded?" she asks in a breathy whisper over her lips, even as her hips rock against the hardness that makes her skin flush all over her body.

Chino shakes his head no, his eyes already closed. He lets her do what she wants, take this where she wants it to go, kind of liking the way she's just sort of taken charge. It's a relief not to have to think, only feeling instead, her hands, her mouth, the tickle of her hair on his skin when she's so close. "N- not for something like this..."

"Wanna be?" She asks, rubbing against him almost wantonly, liking how he feels against her, how he makes her nipples hard, how he makes her so fucking wet. She moves to kiss his eyelids. "Wanna let me have my way with you?"

"Yeah." God, he wants to touch her, taste her when she talks like this, see how those honeyed words feel on his mouth, feel the way her body heats under his hands, and Chino braces his heels on the floor to push his hips up again, aching for more contact, more friction. More of whatever it is that Eliza exudes like perfume that makes him want her so badly.

Grinning, Eliza slips back to stand up and pulls him to his feet, toward the bedroom, walking backward before turning so he can lie back. She crawls over him, still smiling as she pulls off her t-shirt, twisting it into a loose tie. "Ready?"

He wants to remind her that their pizza's going to be coming any minute now, but... that's the least of Chino's concerns, as Eliza's grinning at him like Satan herself. "As- as I'm gonna get." What else should he do? Take his own clothes off, or is that part of her nefarious plan? It actually makes him feel a little silly to be spread out on the bed, just waiting for what she's going to do next.

Leaning down, she kisses him, even as her t-shirt is over his eyes and she lifts his head to tie it in a loose, bulky knot. That done, she straddles his hips and starts to pull his t-shirt off, one arm at a time, her mouth following down the inside of each, nipping at the insides of his elbows, before pushing the cotton up his chest.

At least he can tell from the shifting of her weight where she is, where she might be going, though the little bites on his arms surprise a laugh out of him. Obediently, he lifts his arms for her, feeling like he might look like he's getting ready to be shot by a firing squad, with the blindfold and all. Any last requests? And at that thought, he grins outright.

It's an addictive smile and Eliza gives him one, even as she tugs at first one nipple then the other before she pushes the shirt over his head, careful to keep the blindfold in place. She tosses the shirt away before she kisses a line back down his chest, lingering at his belly button and the jut of his hips after pushing his pants and boxers away.

Chino tips his head back into the pillow, a noise sitting unformed and low in his throat, sharpening into a gasp when she tugs on his nipples. "'liza-" Not sure what he intends to follow that up with, whether it's pleading, it's gratitude, or just the simple need to feel her name in his mouth, and blindly (because there's no other way he could be, with his eyes covered like this), he reaches for Eliza, to touch her skin, feel her hair between his fingers.

Eliza turns her head to kiss his palms, licking up his fingers. He's all about touch, she knows this. Let him just feel. Let everything else fall away. She sucks his index finger into her mouth, tongue swirling, like a cock, all the while getting out of her sweats.

"Shit," Chino breathes, finger tensing on her tongue. His other fingers twitch against her mouth, hips held tensely and determinedly against the bed instead of arching up into nothing, into the way she's working on his fucking fingers, affecting him as much as if she were touching his cock. Chino wants to kiss her, touch her, but this is her game, her show, and he's the willing participant. So willing.

She's smiling as she lets the finger slip from her mouth. She has his wrist and she tugs his hand, just a little, arching her back so that his fingers brush over her breast, from the top down, circling over her nipple. She watches his face, even as just that touch makes her shiver.

His lips part on something like recognition, knowing how to touch Eliza, now that she's put his hand where she wants it. First with fingers, then a circle with his thumb, and with a smile, palm-flat so the jut of her nipple is in the centre of his hand. "H- hi."

"Hi," she practically purrs in reply, shifting her hips just a little so that she's sitting on the curve of his dick, letting the tease of it get both of them. His other hand she pulls up to, letting him do as he will with both her breasts just on feel alone.

He cups them, squeezing them together with just the slightest catch in his breath, wanting to pull her forward, to change their spots just to see what her reaction would be. But that's for another day, another night, because god knows it'll happen. Chino pushes his hips up against Eliza's, feeling the muscles in his stomach tense as he finally gets some kind of friction.

"Uh-uh-uh. Bad boy," she taunts, breathy. She lifts up, pushing his hands over his head (which conveniently brushes her now-sensitive nipples against his mouth, his cheeks). She lingers there a moment before crawling backward, knees between his legs to scrape her dull nails down the inside of his thighs, watching him closely for any and all reactions.

It's a moment that Chino takes advantage of, kissing at Eliza's skin, trying to catch a nipple - one, the other, it doesn't matter - to tug on it with his teeth. But Eliza's giving him the firm hands-off, and if that's how she wants to do this, then... awesome. His hands snap into fists under the drag of her nails, neck arched, toes curled, his cock twitching of its own accord. "Mm, mmh-"

Nice sounds. Really fucking nice sounds. Eliza urges Chino's legs a little further apart as she bends down. (Vaguely, she hopes she doesn't freak him out too bad if she gets too dirty. But you never know til you try, right?) Long swipes of her tongue over his balls, the skin catching a little before she licks up his cock. She can taste herself, she guesses and him as she flicks at the slit, hands still curling, fingers digging in just a little, to his thighs.

With one of his senses stolen from him, everything else seems to be amplified, and Eliza finally gets some real sounds out of Chino. It takes real effort for him to hold his hands still, away from her skin, but he manages it - barely - with a shivering, broken groan. "God, E- Eliza..." He's just about to give in, to snare his hands in her hair, when... the door buzzes. Nice fucking timing, pizza.

Eliza snorts out a laugh. Leaning over, she breathes the words over Chino's mouth. "Don't move." And she gets up. Pulling his shirt over her head, she finds her wallet and goes to the door. She probably looks like she's been fucking and this makes her grin as she takes the pizza and pays the kid who's gawping at her legs. "Go, now," she tells him, laughing as she shuts the door. The box is brought back into the bedroom with her and set on the bed out of the way before she pulls his shirt back off -- hey, she could've answered naked. Then she opens the lid and pulls out a piece of pizza.

Straddling his waist again, she holds it where he can take a bite. "Mmm. Pizza."

"Better things to do than eat," Chino smiles when he feels her weight on the bed again. His smile slides into a smirk when he brings his hips up again, this time to tease her, very deliberately. Then he takes a bite of the proffered pizza. Hah. "Mmm. Eliza."

God, he's a sap. Not that that explains how she smiles down at him, even if he can't see it. She takes a bite too, and puts the piece back into the box. Chino's right. There are better things to do than eat. "You're a bad boy," she tells him before kissing him hard, all tongue and teeth. "Now, where was I?" She asks, rhetorically. "Oh, right." She climbs off him again and kneels between his legs, pushing them apart again. This time, before she does anything else, she licks lower, just once before opening her mouth and taking in his cock, all the way to the root.

That gets Chino's attention, sap or not - he was more making a bit of fun than actually being cheesy, even though it came out soft and endearing - and his hands fist against the pillow, his voice bottomed out and gravelly. "Unhh-" Her mouth is wet, hot, the top of her mouth smooth in contrast to the texture of her tastebuds on the underside of his cock, all the sensations tight and sharp for lack of him being able to see Eliza.

Two long, sucking bobs of her head and Eliza bites at his inner thighs, one then the other before doing the whole thing again, feeling his cockhead butt at the back of her throat, then biting, a little harder this time, enough to leave the slightest of marks. Meanwhile, her fingers flick at his nipples, the ringed one especially, wanting nothing more than to reduce him to being nothing more than sensations.

It's not quite the almost-squeak (yeah, how masculine, but it's a gut reaction that Chino can't help) that Eliza usually earns. Instead, it's a full-body shiver, a tight noise nearly keened into the heated air around them, hips jerking upward through no conscious thought or decision. "E- Eliza, fuck." If this is what it means for her to have him, for him to be hers, then god, yes. Yes, yes.

God, she loves this. Loves how he reacts. Loves him when he's like this. Letting go of his cock with an audible pop, she licks at her lips and straddles his hips again, the picture (unseen) of debauched lust. Reaching down, she holds his dick, using it to rub at her clit, a soft groan escaping. "God, Chino...."

No hands, no eyes, and he can't handle it anymore, not with the way her fingers feel when she moves him, when she rubs his cock against her pussy. "Nnh." Off comes the blindfold, and Chino uses his weight to flip Eliza onto her back, rocking into her with a sharp, gasped snap of hips. "'m s- sorry. I- you." Burying his face against her neck, biting sharply at her skin, only to smooth it away with brushes of his mouth. "I w- was gonna- I was gonna come out when you g- got the pizza, I wanted you so bad." Up against the back of the door, the wall, the couch, it wouldn't have mattered.

Her cry nearly drowns him out. The bite and the way he fucking fills her up is enough to have her throwing her head back, ankles hooking around him. "Bad-- uhn! -- boy! Oh, fuck! Chino! Fuck me. Oh, god, fuck me!"

Chino braces his weight on one hand, holding Eliza's leg up with the other, keeping the angle of her hips steep and sharp and rubbed up on in all the right places. No taking his time, no exploring and making Eliza feel like she's going to come out of her skin. Oh no, she's already done that to him, and if she says "fuck me", then that's exactly what he's going to do. Hard. Even the way he kisses Eliza is different, open and hungry, bleeding desperation and frantic pleasure.

It makes her skin prickle and everything feel sharper. She breathes him in between biting kisses, nails dragging hard down his back before she digs into the meat of his ass. It's fucking perfect, just like always. Only more.

If anything makes Chino make noise, it's Eliza's nails biting into his skin, and he cries out against her neck, letting the rock of their bodies, the taste of Eliza's skin, the way she tightens and trembles when he does certain things, be the driver (the chauffeur, even) in this. He wants to make her come without touching her clit, just using the friction - delicious, sliding, intense - be the thing that shoves her over. Chino unhooks one of her ankles, bringing her leg up and onto his shoulder, turning his head to bite the smooth skin on the inside of her calf before bearing her hard back onto the bed. "Yeah."

The angle change drives him deeper into her, rubbing against the walls of her pussy in ways that that he doesn't always hit. Her breathing speeds up and she can feel her muscles tighten. "Oh, God, Chino. Fuck. Fuck!" If possible, she curls even more. "Fuck! Fuck! Yes! Like that, oh fucking God, like that!"

It's less than a minute and she shouts, throaty and from deep in her chest as she shudders with it.

Chino's leaving marks on her skin in places that are all but impossible to hide: on the inside of her wrist, below her ear, teeth scraped along her collarbone, a trail that leads from her orgasm to his own, like a treasure map. He lets out one of those soft, stuttered sounds - aah - fingers bruise-tight around her ankle when he loses himself to her.

Each mark is felt sharply and Eliza craves each one. She's always liked a little rough and this is so fucking perfect that when he comes, she hugs him tight to her, a hand in his hair, even as she's panting. "Jesus Christ, Chino. That was... fuck."

"Mmph," Chino agrees blurrily. "I d- don't even want pizza now." He wants to tell her how his head feels, how it's so quiet now, in the circle of her arms and on the bow of her mouth. That this thing that they do, all body to body and mouth to mouth, sharp heated pleasure and whispered, frightened endearments that actually meansomething, feel for him like they're their greatest creation.

"Speak for yourself," she teases, cupping his face to kiss him, small, sweet presses of his mouth to hers. "I'm starving. And you need your strength for when we do that again." He could feel her grin against his lips.

"Again." He mirrors Eliza's smile, drawing back until they're separate, leaning down to rub a stubbled cheek on her belly. "Y- yeah. I can do that." Chino grabs the pizza and tucks back under the covers with Eliza, holding the open box out to her. "N- next time, I get- I get to blindfold you."

"Ooh." Grinning, Eliza takes the bitten piece and digs in. "Okay." Her eyes are warm, shining, as she looks at him. It's clear how she feels; it shows on her face and she doesn't bother to try to hide it. "Think you can take me, big guy?"

Seeing it there is so much easier than it being said out loud, with his stutter and her her own personal baggage, and again, Chino can't help but mirror it back before grabbing a slice of his own. "Th- think you can handle me, l- lady?" Finding her in his workshop seems like years ago, now, and Chino's more than happy to spend the remainder of the evening in bed with Eliza, eating pizza and taking his time reminding Eliza how tender the spots he's left on her skin are. And maybe add a few more.

"'Course I can," she scoffs. "You just wait and see, huh? I'm getting a beer, want one?" She moves to stand up, naked, marked and unashamed.

"I'm sh- sure I can be convinced." Chino watches Eliza with something like intense appreciation when she moves, the curves that steal her away from being skinny and make her lean and lush at the same time, instead. "I don't even think you- you'll be able to get through your beer before y- you're on me again..."

Her laugh follows her out. He may just be right.