Techromance - Chino and Eliza
Who: flying_squirrel - Eliza Dushku, remanufacture - Chino Moreno
Where: Chino's condo
When: About four days after this.
In all honesty, Chino's place is a disaster, a mix of parts and gears, tools, projects in progress for his own amusement. A bag of pot sits on his coffee table next to an elaborate water bong, some rolling papers, and a wrench. Chino himself is in his makeshift workshop, soundproofed so that the neighbours don't totally go nuclear on him for his metal machinery, the clatter-clank of dropping tools, pieces of metal, or the way Chino jumps around when a song hits him just right.
But it's time to take a break, to smoke a bowl and make a toaster pizza (addictive as hell, and so good when he's got the munchies), maybe have a beer, and fiddle around with the trucks on his skateboard. With his welding goggles hanging around his neck, he stalks the freezer like a lion to an elephant, head bobbing up and down in time with the music he's got coming from his headphones.
Eliza is smiling. Her fingers touch the glass of his window and she watches him move. And still, there's that grace that she noticed a long time ago.
She shouldn't be here. She should go away. She's not even sure why she's back. Not entirely anyway.
So. Her heart is beating kind of hard and it's stupid. This whole thing is stupid. She doesn't have a job, she has no discernible means of supporting herself anymore since fucking Jimmy killed the fucking gravy train, the asshole. But here she is. And she taps on the glass.
He doesn't hear it, not with his headphones in, but when Chino turns away from the kitchen to park on the couch, he sees Eliza there and very nearly drops his beer. "Holy Christ." Earbuds come out, and he shoves the window up for her to come in. "What the sweet crap are you doing out there?"
"Uh, kind of watching you, I guess," she answers, though she doesn't come in until she's invited (kind of like a vampire like that). And Eliza does have the grace to blush. "So... hi."
"H- hi." Chino slams the window down once she's got her feet on his floor, and jerks the curtains shut. "Okay, n- now that I've got you. How do you know who I am? How do- how do you know where I live?" She's flush from the cold, and Chino tries (mostly in vain) to discourage his brain from thinking about how he'd warmed her up when they'd met. Hoo, what a meeting. "Are- are you okay?"
Eliza doesn't answer for a minute or so. She walks around, touching things. The place is a total wreck, but in a cool way that shows how his brain works. And of course she sees the pot stuff and smirks a little bit. When she's looked the room over as thoroughly as she wanted to, she turns back to him, her hands in the pockets of her same black hoodie. "I'd be better if you kissed me," she says, a little breathy (which is a total put-on, but come on, some tricks don't die.) The rest of his questions? Yeah, not so much.
"S- sit." Chino puts his toaster pizzas in front of Eliza, getting a second beer from the fridge. "I'm n- not going to kiss you until you dish. And please don't- don't touch my stuff. Nothing personal, it's just a lot- a lot of it is in transit, you know? And breakable." He sits on the couch. "If you g- if you get on my lap... I'm still gonna make you talk." Maybe she'll understand if he reasons with her. "You know my n- my name. You know where I live. You know that I s- that I skate. How'd you feel if it was me doing it to- to you? It'd be weird and stalkery, right?"
Fuck. See? She should've known better and she's halfway to standing and glaring at him before she thinks to answer. Because what can she say? Why can't he just want to fuck like, like, every other guy on the fucking planet?! Why does he have to fucking care about shit? Fuck. "I'm sorry I creeped you out," she finally manages. "I'm just going to go and I won't fucking bother you again."
"I'd like you to stay." Chino looks down at the mess on his coffee table, and sort-of tidies it up. "You can sit on my lap if you want. You didn't- you didn't creep me out. It's just- just that some shit's happened with people with abilities, and." He shrugs. "D- do you blame me for wanting answers?"
Standing a few steps away, she runs her hand through her hair with a sigh. "I know about the shit that's happened," she says, her voice low. She knows. Like a lot. She knew Patton was a psychopath; she knows all that. "I don't want to hurt you. I--" Her head falls forward, hair curtaining her face. "I'm not here to hurt you."
Chino stands, coming to her, instead of the other way around. He pushes Eliza's hair back from her face, lifting her chin to look in her eyes. "Did something happen to- to you? I just- I just. I just want to know how you knew so much about me." And why all she wants to do with him is get naked. Not complaining, not even close, but... it's weird. To say the least. "Did you- did you do that b- before because you needed help?"
"I don't need help!" She's quick to say, yanking away. "Did I say anything about needing fucking help?! I can fucking get laid, you know." Jimmy would so totally be all over that. Fucking creep. "Jesus. Why do you have to ask so many fucking questions?! Why can't we just fucking be?!"
"It's how- how I figure things out," Chino answers quietly. "You- you don't seem like a lot of people have been very nice to you, E- Eliza. Help me out h- here." Maybe if he-
-Chino leans in, pressing his mouth to hers, giving her that kiss she'd asked for when she'd Dracula'd into his condo. "Okay?"
Her eyes are still closed when he pulls back, as much to avoid the conversation as to savor how his mouth felt against hers. The stutter? Is freaking adorable. But of course she doesn't say that as much as she knows when he doesn't stutter. When she finally opens her eyes, she says, "Chino, just... you know how you can help me? By... just... keep doing that. And quit asking the questions. Please, okay?"
"I don't know you." But that doesn't stop Chino from cupping her face, angling her head so their mouths fit together just right. If she wants him this badly (and likewise with him wanting her), she'll tell him. When she's comfortable. In the meantime, Eliza's warm, she's beautiful, she's touching Chino. Maybe he shouldn't question it too much, just like she says. Maybe Chino should just be. And in that, Eliza can feel him harden against her hip.
"You know all you need to know," she whispers between kisses, arms coming around his neck. Raising her leg, she nudges at his hard-on. "You got a bed in this place?" Her hands slip under the neck of his shirt, splayed over warm skin. "I think you should show it to me."
"Yeah." He walks them toward his bedroom, kissing at her mouth the entire way. Chino's bedroom is surprisingly sparse, with a couple of books on the floor beside a platform bed, and a bit of laundry as the only real indication he spends any time in there. With Eliza's arms around his neck, it's easy for Chino to scoop her up, to breathe, "You can never know enough" against her lips, before bearing her back onto the bed.
You've been working for Downey too long, Eliza thinks with a smirk. She knows how she looks with her hair splayed out under her as she pulls down the zipper of her hoodie. "You're gonna come this time," she tells him, part promise, part challenge. The material falls aside and she's naked underneath, of course.
"Sure," Chino agrees. "Hope you- you've got stuff. I d- don't usually have girls dropping in l- like this." He pushed back Eliza's open hoodie before pressing a line of open-mouthed kisses down her sternum, down to the button of her pants, which he flicks open with a stoned, wicked grin. "Y- yes?"
It's on the tip of her tongue to tell him to stock up, but yeah, not so much. Lifting up both to help him pull her pants down and to get the little square package and toss it next to them on the bed. She also reaches around him to pull off her boot to keep him from finding the switchblade there. Then she falls back, her legs spread. "What're you gonna do with that," she all but purrs, touching his mouth. "Huh?"
"'m better with my hands," Chino goes, as way of an apology. Sort of. With another canted grin, he dips down to drag his tongue up the crease of her pussy, following it with a trail-twist of his fingers into her. "Hmm?"
Her shiver is a give-away. So is the sound she makes. And the way she fists her hand in his sheets. "Shit, Chino!" Her heels dig into the bed, too. "You better fucking do that again."
He does it again, crossing his fingers inside Eliza before teasing them down and up and in, following them with his tongue, drawing a precise little circle on her clit. "Hah." Maybe a little bit smug-sounding.
"Fuck. Don't get all cocky," she grumbles, even if it comes out all breathy and shallow. "Fuck!" Eliza closes her eyes. the muscles of her inner thighs trembling. "Jesus." She could so get used to this.
Cocky isn't something Chino could be, even if he tried. Smug, yes, but cocky? There's no real point in dwelling that much on something he's so good at. And he's so good, alternating between long, slow drags of tongue and firm rubs of his thumb on her clit as he fucks her with his fingers, pausing for a second to nudge one of her legs up onto his shoulder. Chino's thoughts alternate between thinking, shaky and low even in his own head, about how good she tastes, and how he'll get her to tell him what the hell is going on.
It's only moments, embarrassingly quickly almost, and she's coming, arching off the bed, crying out, her hands tangled in his hair as she shakes. "Oh, fuck! Shit! Fuck. Fuck!" And even then, as she's still shaking, she's pulling at Chino, wanting him closer. "C'mon," she rasps out. "C'mon. Fuck me, Chi. Fuck me."
He beckons her through it, fingers curled and rubbing up inside her until her fingers hook into the thin, overworn fabric of his t-shirt. A duck of Chino's head and a raising of his arms leaves the t-shirt still clutched in Eliza's fingers, and he's half-smiling as he cranks off his socks (socks during sex? weird) and works at his belt. "It's Ch- Chino," he chides, still smiling. Belt open, jeans and shorts down, and Chino stretches out beside Eliza to tear open the condom wrapper. "You wanna do it, or am I g- gonna have to start it up all- all by myself?"
"What, you got a problem with nicknames?" Eliza has to ask, straddling his hips to yank the condom out of the wrapper he'd ripped open. Her eyes glinting, she rocks her hips, feeling the press of his dick right against her and fuck, that's nice. "Don't worry, baby," she drawls. "It's all good." Lifting up, she rolls the rubber on and in one fell swoop, takes him in, hissing out a breath at how nice and fucking full that feels. Yeah. Hands splayed on his chest, flicking at pebbled nipples, she just rocks, just a little. Yeah.
"Ch- Chi's my buddy. His name's actually Chi. 's why." Yowza, voracious woman. Chino hooks one of Eliza's legs against his hip, holding it there with a firm, broad hand, and he answers the slight rock of her hips with a firm snap of his own. It feels like his body and his head are on two completely separate circuits, where he's still thinking why, how while his hand skates over Eliza's skin, circles her navel with his thumb, palming her ribs, a breast, as his body finds a rhythm that's good, that's slow. To start.
Humming, Eliza lets her head fall back and her eyes close. They move together in a way that makes primal sense and the touches are just fucking icing on the cake. She can feel her hair against her back and she feels his cock and his hands and that's it and this is what she came here looking for. This is all she wants. She's smooth like water as she rocks with each thrust and only when her head falls forward, upper body following after, does she look down at him. "Chino," she nearly purrs. "Yeah."
If it could be said that guys only use girls for sex, then... that's a goddamn lie. Chino knows it's what Eliza wants, why she totally horror-movied herself outside his window. Even if he'd let her in with other intentions, this is where they are, this is what they're doing, and- and she's hot, she's wet, she feels so fucking good that finally his brain stops gearing through different reasons that she could know him and focuses instead on the expressions that flicker over her face as he puts a little more force behind the kick of his hips. "Y- yeah," he agrees, husky against her cheek, before busying his mouth with the machine-thrum of her pulse below the delicate skin of her throat.
Reaching back only to pull her hair from over his face, Eliza makes small noises each time he kisses her neck. When she's moved now, her body rubs against his and it's sensual, intimate and after a moment, she licks up the cord of his neck, teeth digging just barely into the shell of his ear, panting at the change of angle as she arches her back to increase the friction.
It's the same as it was behind Krush; the only sound that Chino makes that would indicate anything is a catch in his breath. It's in the way his eyes close, the way he tips his head back, the way his hand firms on the back of Eliza's thigh so he can thrust deeper, harder, able to chase his own pleasure into her.
"You gonna come, big boy?" She asked, lips pressed to his ear, chased by her tongue. "I wanna feel you. I wanna feel you come." She wants to see Chino come apart, if only for a moment. She wants to be able to say to herself, later, when she's alone, I did that.
He wants to tell her not to call him that either, but his rhythm breaks and falls apart as his his hips steal his stutter and leave Chino wordless, eyes closed and face slack when he comes. It's as if all she had to do was ask, was to tell him that's what she wanted, and he tries to catch his breath, his forehead against Eliza's jaw, shoulders shaking with the electric current of his aftershocks. "Christ."
Eliza pets down his back, eyes closed, feeling him pulse inside her. It's sexy and good and she moans softly. This. Then she has to go. And she will. In a minute. He's so quiet; it's kind of unnerving. And kind of hot, too.
Once Chino catches his breath, he braces himself up on his hands to look down at Eliza. "You'll- you'll stay, right?" Not out of romanticism, but this can't be the only thing she wants from him. "I mean, you- you're more'n welcome to hang out." With a flicker-wince on his face, Chino drags his hips back, skinning off the condom, tying it, tossing it toward the empty garbage can with a deft flick of his wrist. "See that? All n- net."
Smirking at his throw, Eliza thinks that sex really can be the only reason she came. Or at least the only reason she lets on to Chino.
Of course, it's not, but fuck if she'll play her cards that far from her chest. No way. But before a snarky comment can roll off her tongue, she hears herself say, "You want me to?"
"Yep. We can eat those t- toaster pizzas and smoke a- smoke a bowl and listen to Depeche Mode." With that, Chino moves off the bed, gathering up his shorts and t-shirt to put on. "And you c- can tell me your last name. At the- at the very least."
She sits up and crosses her legs, resting her elbows on her knees. "And what girl wouldn't love that." Her grin is sideways on her face. "I'll meet you out there? Let me get dressed and shit?"
"Sure." Chino tries not to stare, but... she's naked. Sitting on his bed. Cross-legged, and that just invites attention to areas that, well. Have had attention paid to them already. But he pushes his hair back, tugging up his jeans, tightening his belt. With something like embarrassment, he realizes he's still got his welding goggles around his neck.
Girls need their privacy, he's well aware of this. But...
Pushing her hair back from her face, she watches him go, then she stands and gathers her clothes too and her boots and goes into the bathroom and closes the door. Flipping on the light, she catches her reflection and it startles her. Her cheeks are flushed and her lipgloss has been kissed off. She looks away as she gets dressed. When she's zipped up her hoodie, she pulls out her lipgloss and stops short of doing her lips, to instead scrawl on the mirror
She rolls some on her mouth and looks at her reflection again, eyerolling herself.
So fucking stupid.
Opening the door nearly silently, she slips back into the bedroom and to the window. She's thin-- she doesn't have to open it much to ease herself out.
At least she closes it behind herself. That, she tells herself, is something.
Ten minutes is more than enough for a girl to get sorted, right? So Chino knocks on the closed bedroom door, listens, knocks again. There's absolutely no sound. Maybe- maybe she fell asleep. Doubtful. He opens the door and peers inside; the light's on. Nobody's home. "Eliza?" The bathroom door is shut, too, so he knocks on that. "El- Eliza?" Still, nothing. Behind this door is a surprise unto itself: Graffiti on his mothertrucking mirror, in her gloss. Like he wasn't anything other than a conquest, something to brag about.
It makes him feel pretty shitty, and Chino scowls darkly as he scrubs her name off his mirror. Eliza Dushku. If I can't find you... It's not a thought he really wants to finish.
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