Changes and Returns
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Red Dragon Inn - Dragon's Mark -> The Caravan Circuit

#1: Changes and Returns Author: Mark LowCan Be Found: Rhy'Din PostPosted: Sat Sep 03, 2016 9:17 am
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They gone about all night drivin' tah finally get back tah camp around 1:30 am. Mark was jist bein' stubborn about it, mostly. He didn't wanna grab a hotel room, he jist wanted tah be back tah his RV, tah tha place dat was home. When dey pulled up camp were real quiet. Either it was too hot for a bonfire or cause Mark weren't there tah keep it lit tha it all had gone real quiet.

Once he put tha car intah park and turned it off he leaned ovah, putting a hand tah Grace's shoulder tah give it a squeeze and din tah brush the back of his fingers ovah her cheek. Soft as he could he said, "Hey, babe. Yah can wake up now. We made it. We home."

Grace had tried really hard to stay awake - honest she had. She'd talked and told stories, played roadside alphabet and license plate bingo. She'd played DJ - shuffling between the songs to find the ones that were upbeat and energetic, the ones she could sing along or dance in her chair to. In the end, though, she'd succumbed without even realizing it to the lullaby of the road. The gentle rock of the wheels over pavement, the white noise hum of the engine, the warmth of Mark's hand on her thigh, it all conspired against her and the tiny stylist had crashed.

She woke slowly, disoriented and a little bit groggy, at the gentle sweep of the not-King's fingers over her face. "Mm...we're home?" Grace wasn't entirely aware that she was repeating him, wasn't aware of much except that the car had stopped moving. She stretched, balling a tiny fist against a yawn. "I'm sorry I fell asleep."

"You wasn't gone dat long. Mehbe two hours." Mark smiled and fished his cellphone outta tha cup holder. The screen lit up as he pressed on than button and din he turned it tah her face for a see, "I documented it an' everythin', so der's nothin' tah worry about. Yah look real cute even when you doin' the head-bobbin' and tired thing." Der was his smile which followed right after. He pocketed tha phone into his jacket before restin' the side of his head back against tha headrest o' the car. Apparently, jist being parked in camp fer him was enough tah feel like he were at home. Wasn't the first time they lingered in tha car talkin.

"Thanks fer comin' with me tah see Aunt Rally and all dat. I know you gotta business tah run and it weren't no vacation we took." It were far, far from bein' any sort of vacation. When he thought of vacations he always thought o' her and him in the car, havin' sex and laughin' and naht sleepin'. Attending tha side of Aunt Rally's bed was a far cry from it.

Rubbing at her eyes to clear the little crusty bits that sometimes formed, Grace pulled her water bottle from where she'd wedged it in the door pocket, unscrewing the cap. Turning to look at his phone when he showed it to her, the girl gave a dry laugh, lifting the bottle to her lips. "M'glad you think so." Her voice had less rasp to it after she'd had a couple of swallows.

It felt good to be home, but home presented its own problems. Home meant that Mark was King again, and everything that went along with that. Home meant Ian, and Dave, and whatever state Quinn might be in. Home meant sorting out how behind she'd become at work, how mad certain clients might be. But home also meant their own space, the quiet comfort of the RVs, their life together. Grace nodded, in no apparent hurry to move, either, as she turned in her seat to face him better. "Of course. Rally saved my life--I owe her as much as anyone. If I could have, I’d have gone with you from the beginning." Reaching over, she took one of his larger hands in her much smaller one. "We're a team, yeah? We face everything together."
"I dah," to whut she said about the photo. Then she were turning tah him, speakin' o' Rally in tha way dat all of those in camp kinda felt. Were hardly a one dat didn't owe her their skin or got a loved one who did. Mark kinda fell outta touch with her aftah she took Levi and Levi stayed with her at the safehouse and him and da jist hit the road. Prior tah that, she almost been like a ma or aunt to him before leaving. That weren't a rare thin' though. Lots o' folks kinda saw Aunt Rally as being "their" Auntie. Gypsies was always close, but she had a way of inspiring people and being the thing you needed at low times.

His hands closed around tha hand o' his tiny dancer and he smiled, "Tha we dah love, tha we do." To which he then leaned in, puttin' his lips tah her's because the sentiment was right and he needed the soft, warm welcome of her mouth aftah such a drive.

Raking the fingers of her free hand through her hair, Grace arched her back, rolling her head back to stretch her neck first one way then the other. With the other hand she squeezed Mark's lightly.

Righting herself just in time to intercept his kiss, the smile on her face in the seconds just before it is a soft one, her enormous green eyes catching some little shimmer of ambient light from outside the car as she met those lips. Kissing him back, Grace slipped her hand out of his only to push it around his neck instead.

There's a glimpse o' somethin' in his smile, somethin' occurring between kisses, jist until her fingers make a play at tha back of his neck. She captured him fer a bit longer, keepin' der mouths together in that tired, lazy part of the evening. It was practically timeless. There wasn't a sun risin' or falling, or anyone that would call, to make it feel that time was coming or going. There were only the moment floating between them. One minute. Maybe twenty.

His hand holdin' her's gave anotha squeeze tah say somethin' befer he actually went and said it, "Yah ready tah go home or yah stallin?"

It wasn't so many months ago that this witching hour time of night had been their time. When their budding relationship, though never secret, wasn't specifically common knowledge, when these full dark moments seemed like the only ones they could steal for themselves alone.

These days, people were better about leaving Mark in particular alone, about understanding that when he wasn't readily accessible there was a really good reason for it, that when he couldn't be found one should maybe not go looking for him right away. Even so, the little stylist had a soft spot in her heart for that time between midnight and dawn, the time of climbing through windows, of racing out to cars before they were scene, of stretching out on the beach by a bonfire made just for two.

That hand at his neck slipped up the back of his head into his hair, her nails drawing gentle lines along his scalp the way she knew he liked. "M'stallin' a little," confessed Grace after a moment, a coy smile on her lips. "...makin' out in the car with you does feel like vacation."

"I didn't nahtice," he said tah tha stallin' bit that came with the trick o' her fingertips along the backside of his neck and intah his scalp. Were one o' the reasons she seduced him as much as she had. The haircut hand come with the little play o' her hands and hairstylists seemed tah know jist the right pressure and persistence tah have with it.

Coy smiles and little confesses. She were getting kissed by him fer it, his elbow on the arm rest as his eyes made a study o' her face, "Are we in need o' a vacation? I mean, we're in spittin' distance of home." His blue eyes turned from her without any motion of his head, pointing out the slumbering forms of the otha RVs in the late hours.

"Nah," said Grace with a little grin, shaking her head once before meeting his kiss a second time. "Home is good. I just...really like making out with you." Giggling, the girl left her hands in his hair, her nails scratching lightly as she kissed his jaw, the corner of his mouth. The impulse to crawl across the gearshift into his lap was strong, almost irresistible. "My place or yours?"

#2:  Author: Mark LowCan Be Found: Rhy'Din PostPosted: Sat Sep 03, 2016 9:37 am
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"Mah place, you get company," he scoffed. It mighta gone either way if it were fer how she was smilin' and lookin' at him, the little catch of her eye sayin' she was wantin' trouble. He liked that she was giggling, that wakin' up from the nap hadn't left her feelin' sore or cranky fer him none. Leaning forward he found dat he was grinning right befer kissin' on her a bit more. She needed it, right? Gotta make sure she was awake enough tah walk proper. When lips broke he smiled, his left hand was catchin' the handle o' his driver's side door, "But you gotta be quiet so dat my girlfriend dun hear you come in."

A quiet giggle spilled from her lips, her nose wrinkling at his words. "...Right, because you never get company. Or have roommates." Grace needed all the kisses, and this time when he leaned forward, the tiny girl wrapped both arms around his neck, pulling herself against him across the console. She was still basically clinging to him like that when he started to pull away, to get the door open, and for half a second Grace was totally prepared to let him drag her across the seat and out with him. Reluctantly, though, she let him go, making a face at Mark before she reached for her own door, snagging her purse off the floor board. "Eh. Let's wake her up. She needs to know about me anyway. I'm a big deal, you know." Her tone playful, her big eyes sparkled with amusement.

"I dun!" he protested right before her lips locked his. Mighta kept her, tah, iffin she didn't slip from him and fer her own door. One hand gave her side a squeeze befer he popped his door open, "Yah a *big* deal yah say?" A look ovah her petite form which was sayin 'really?' as he did sah. Din he finished pushing open his door and stepped out.

Der was a time he didn't feel his back and chest pop like dat after a long car ride. Somewhere in his stretch the vertebrae between his shoulder blades gave a low little song. When he were done he shut his door, adjusting that military jacket with tha led zepplin on dah back befer he looked at her with a grin. Had tah cross ovah tah the front of the car tah grab up her hand. "Ferget tha bags, we'll get 'em in dah morn."

"Uh huh. Suuuuure." The way she said it clearly indicated that she was skeptical. Pushing the door open, the girl let herself out into the car lot, Grace rolled her eyes as she smoothed out her dress. "Oh shut up, I'm huge.” Taking his hand when he reached for her, the girl closed the door behind her at his words. There wasn't anything in those bags she needed right now more than she needed more kisses from Mark, anyway. "Works for me."

"Gotta gah tah the laundry mat in the morn, anyhow," so why unpack clothes only tah repack? He was justifying the logic o' it all jist then for her even though she weren't askin' fer it. His hand gave hers a tug sah dat they was side by side and his arm could give a wrap around her. The air was startin' tah hint at mehbe a sun rising up. Was startin' tah feel like maybe tha night were wanting to end tah soon fer him. He fished in his jacket pocket tah draw out his keys and unlock dah front door.

"Were a mistake tah let you nap. You got more wired than me sah it naht fair," he said, lookin' down at her and din openin' the door to his place.

Tugged into his side, she let go of his hand only to wind her arm around his hips, laying her cheek against the side of his chest as she sealed the distance between them. The camp was surprisingly quiet - sure it was late, but even so there was usually the sound of someone snoring or somebody just coming home or somebody getting one last beer from the community cooler or something, but tonight there wasn't. Lights on here and there, but most of the RVs were eerily quiet.

Shaking her head, Grace turned her face into his side, nuzzling into him affectionately. Maybe to dispel some of the weirdness she felt in the strange, relative quiet of the gypsy camp. An unbidden shiver slipped over her, and she burrowed closer. "...Yeah, I'm pretty awake now," agreed the girl while he fumbled with his keys. She stepped out from under his arm and through the door as soon as it was open, but turned to face him pretty much the moment she'd cleared the threshold. "Whatever shall I do to entertain myself?"

She turned in the threshold and der weren't nah inner light to brighten her. He could still see her though from the lights folks had shining offa the ends of their RVs and such. It wasn't a whole lot, jist enough tah know her face and the expression which was on it when she looked down at him. One foot set tah tha outside o' her's and din he stepped up, quite nearly kissin' her again when he spoke, "Der's always dishes, strip twister... chill and watch netflix." Chill and watch netflix were, as he took it, common code for sex. Dat was iffin he got the sayin' right.

Mark was his old coat, his thrift store clothes and the mild smell of skin and sweat on him on account o' the long drive. It were all him, though, jist as she were her. The cloth of his shirt somewhat taut ovah the chest and his green jeans loose but tied down tah him by a belt.

That pretty jingling-bells giggles spilled between them as he rose, moving into the space she was currently occupying. Grace didn't step back, slipped her hands into the space between his shirt and his jacket to wind around his waist.

As he climbed that last stair, of course, the drastic height differential between them was re-established, and the little stylist had to crane her neck nearly all the way back to look up at him, her outstretched chin resting lightly on his chest. "...close, baby. It's Netflix and Chill." More giggles escaped, her throat vibrating softly against his body. "...Strip twister sounds promising, though..."

"Ahhh, dat sah? Netflix and chill," a few nods like she was teachin' him. Tha door dat were ajar was mostly closed behind him now dat he'd gone up the stair. Some o' the outside light which illuminated her was gone, but it jist softened whut he saw.

Her hand slipped in between his coat and shirt, sah one hand rested at her waist, almost cuppin her bottom befer he grinned at her, "Yeah, jist tha two o' us playin? You got some stakes in mind?" His body nudged her's, coaxin' her back a step and further from the entrance.

The expression on his face - like he was committing this little piece of outsider slang to memory -- made her giggle all the more. Honestly, she was kind of impressed he'd picked up on the saying in the first place.

The pressure of his body against hers prompted the girl back a couple of steps, though she made no move to unwind herself from his body, her steps the staggered, hesitating childish movements of someone who can't see where they're going. Her eye brows raised into her hairline. "...you seriously askin' if we're inviting other people to play strip twister at two in the morning?" Grace snickered, lifting herself back from him just enough to drop her chin, and she nipped playfully at his chest -- catching a mouthful of t-shirt, mostly -- by way of response.

Peeling herself away from him at last, the little dancer pivoted on her toes and moved deeper into the kitchen, setting her purse down on the bench seat at the table. Her wide eyes were thoughtful. "Hm," she mused, tapping her lower lip thoughtfully with her finger tip. "What do I get when I win...? "

"Was gonna call yer bluff," he wagged his eyebrows iffin if she couldn't see it dat well. Din his shoulders made a forward tah back roll tah shed his coat and kinda make a half blind motion tah hang it back up on the u-hook by tha door. It were an old Misfits shirt tonight, the white skull printed face was cracked and the color softened into tha cloth. Jist as he was puttin his arms back around her she got a mouthful o' that shirt, "Oi, you gonna be tah fiesty fer playin' that game I think."

His hands was settled, feeling the cloth o' her dress, the turn o’ that waistline when she spun away. He took tha moment tah bend down and unhook tha laces of is boots away from dah top hooks. Boots nudged off tah the side and din he was back ovah tah her. The light ovah the kitchen sink was on so it spilled some better sense of what were where. Mehbe he was calculatin' something, from kitchen tables, tah counters, tah right at her smile. "You got somethin' yah wanna win?"

#3:  Author: Mark LowCan Be Found: Rhy'Din PostPosted: Sat Sep 03, 2016 9:47 am
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She went to the fridge, guiding herself by the little light over the sink and the ambient light from outside. Pulling it open, she grinned -- there were exactly two beers left. Delighted, Grace grabbed them both - one in each hand, so as not to tempt fate, then turned back towards him, using a quick cock of her hip to shut the refrigerator door. Her smile lingered as she offered one of the beers out to him, studying the man curiously.

Could be she was figuring the same calculations in her head, or at least a variation on the theme. Could she actually win? Mark was sizing up the room and his girlfriend was sizing up him. Girl was confident that she was more flexible than her Gypsy King, but... could she actually reach from green to red? Without doing a full split?

Lifting her gaze back to his face, Grace was chewing on her lower lip, holding that beer without actually opening it. "What do you want if you win?"

She weren't answerin' him, but he saw her sizin' him up like whether or naht he was up tah the task. Knew that glance ovah fer what it was, but he played it off real subtle-like. Like maybe he weren't knowing she looked at him dat way. The beer came tah him and he put it in the bend of his arm and gave tha bottle a twist so dat the metal cap would pop off. One swallow made befer she asked whut she did.

"Whut dah I want..." said like he gotta roll that sentence over in his mouth. Eyebrows lifted up jist a bit as his boyish smile took ovah when he looked at her, "Yah get yer nipples pierced iffin I win." Looked like he were puttin' on tha high stakes game fer her.

Wide eyes gone fractionally wider, Grace was surprised but not rejecting it out of hand. "...That's what you want, eh? Alright..." She tried to twist the cap off the bottle, frowned when it wouldn't budge. Lowering it to her hips, she caught the fabric of her sundress in the other hand, using it to protect her fingers when she tried to twist the cap off a second time.

Successful on the second attempt, the girl grinned to herself, set the cap aside on the counter. Lifting the beer to her lips, she took a long sip from its rim, her eyes on Mark. "...So if I win, y'gonna pierce yours?" The humor in her eyes said that wasn't a serious request, that it wasn't her stakes for this game. "Mm. Alright, so. If I win, you have to..." Her grin turned devious suddenly. "...y'gotta go to one of those ballet things with me."

The use of the dress wasn't... bad at all. He watched the hem of it creep up her thighs and smiled a bit until it dropped and she took a swing o' her drink. Eyebrows arched up when she mentioned him getting it done, but he weren't seemin' tah offended at the idea. Instead he moved in on her, one hand strokin' her back, head tipped down tah look at her, "Ballet things? Like one o' dem shows or something?" That was something he met with a bit more hesitation and until he finally groaned and said, "Verrah well. But, I says we have a show down tomorrow, befer lunch. Gonna video tape is so der's no cheating." And maybe cause it were something to review

Grace caught the way he was watching her open the beer out of the corner of her eye, but it took her a moment to understand why. When it clicked, a smile caught the edges of her face, her expression going soft in the corners. He moved in close and it was pure instinct the way she slid one hand over his side, holding him in a relaxed way. His fingers on her back had the girl tipping her head forward, resting it lightly against his chest for a moment. "Mm. That feels good," she mumbled into his shirt, taking a long moment to lift her head again with a semi-triumphant nod.

"Mhm. That's right. One of those evening shows where y'gotta where nice clothes and go out to a fancy dinner first." Her eyes flashed with mischief -- she knew damn well it was the kind of thing Mark... Did Not Want to Do. Hey, had to make sure he was properly motivated to bring his best game, right?

And then he was changing the terms on her, and she tilted her head to the side, a brow cocked in that seriously? kind of way. "...You want video," she repeated, "...to make sure there's no cheating? Uh huh. Sure." On the other hand, it was probably a better idea than electing a judge.

His hand slipped under the end o' her dress tah catch tha flesh of her behind and give it a squeeze as she cuddled intah him. Could only be sah cuddly without der bein' a bit of wander to the rest. The hour was late and there was this sorta sleepy comfort dat made him feel like she sank into his chest. Din she was talkin' about a suit and fancy dinner and the corner of his lips hooked up in an amused sorta smile, "You wantin something right fancy, yeah?"

Did he want tah do it? Hell nah. He didn't own nothing like that tah wear and would need tah pick it up. O' course, she prolly weren't in no mind for nipple piercings. That was something painful and kinda permanent.

Well, dat was the idea, not tah elect a third party. Mighta had the end result of naht allowing for other activities durin' tha strip twister. The hand that weren't having a hold o' her bottom under the dress tipped his beer back for another swallow befer being set off tah the side.

"Yes. Very fanc---hey, whatcha doin?" Her answer was cut off by the way he squeezed her, and there was a little change to the lingering smile on her face because of it. The beer still cradled in the fingers of one hand held outstretched away from her body, the other hand at his waist burrowed underneath that old Misfits shirt to skate her nails lightly over his belly.

Lifting the beer back to her lips for another swallow, she wrinkled her brows up at him. "I feel like... we can be pretty good judges ourselves, but... if you insist..."

"Nothin'," he said with tha arch o' his brow and a bit more mischief in dat boyish smile he got. Could feel she weren't in real protest, though, by her smile and how she was scratchin' at his stomach. Tha ticklish little rake of them made his stomach muscles tighten and when that happened, sah did his hand. Givin' her bottom a squeeze before sliding tah the side o' her leg. His thumb hooked at her panties and din gave a downward tug while he was lookin' at her, talkin, "I mean, video is all about makin' sure we keep it honest." And der mighta been some other kink factor.

Grace giggled, that sound like softly tinkling Christmas bells, high and clear. "Uh huh. Definitely nothing." There was that squeeze, and then he was tugging ever so nonchalantly on her underwear, and that earned him a faux-reproachful look and a subtle shifting of her stance to spread her legs. "...Y'know, I think you are the panty-thief," she admonished him, a smile she was trying hard to hide still peeking out along the very corners of her mouth despite the way she bit down on the center of her lip.

"...Oh. Right. Well, so long as it's honest...."

"Jist yer's. I'd like tah have mah own collection," he grinned, arching one dark brow and lookin' ovah his shoulder as if tah check on tha imaginary line up of panties tacked along the top of the ceiling about where his bed were. His gaze was back tah her, "Dat way I can keep track o' how many times I been havin yah. At the end o the month you gettin' em back so it's kinda like a talley?"

At this point the cloth had worked its way from being intimately wedged between her legs to the gentle stretch of her thighs. Then, past the last of the swell of her thighs they fell, poolin' at her feet jist then. Softly, "About as honest as yah can expect meh tah be about it, love."

#4:  Author: Mark LowCan Be Found: Rhy'Din PostPosted: Mon Sep 05, 2016 7:20 am
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Her vivid green eyes seemed to double, maybe even triple in size. "...That many? Hell, I'mma need a lot more underwear, then..." Her grin spread, and she shifted her weight to one foot, lifting the other to step out of the tiny circle of cloth her panties made. Shifting legs, she snagged the fabric in her toes, lifting it off the floor without having to break away from him. Catching that scrap in her fingers, Grace held them up for him, all pale green and scalloped along the edges, for the taking. "This month's almost over, though."

His admission - at least, it felt like something of a confession - brought a soft smile to her lips. Lifting herself up on her toes, her neck stretched, her chin tipped, reaching for a kiss. "...Which is to say... not honest at all?" There was a grin in her voice when she said it.

His fingers tangled in the line of cloth that was the scalloped edges of her panties. He made a show of half shoving them intah tha back pocket of his jeans before he broke away to reach over and set that small, dead bolt lock in place at the front door. An interruption at this point would have been... well, he wouldn't have been even the slightest forgiving of it happening.

"This month will have to be the reset." His grin appeared when he said it and din gave her a little bit o' a look over, "Yah have far tah many clothes fer it. Best tah ditch the parts you dun use or won't come tah use."

There was something about watching him make that show, his hand folding deliberately over that flimsy, girly fabric in a show of claiming it that made the muscles deep in her belly contract pleasantly. Mark reached past her to lock the door and she wet her lips with a quick slip of her tongue.

He spoke, and Grace, for her part, played dumb: Her wide green eyes were all innocent confusion, her brows arching subtly back at him. "...Far too many clothes for...what?"

"Fer yer laundry you gotta do. Gonna have to leave some stuff with me... tha dress fer sure." Dresses were a godsend tah all o mankind. Especially tha little Summer ones, the sort where in a stolen moment two folks could jist dive right into each othah without havin' tah undo a million buttons or awkwardly wriggle outta jeans. And if you was being a bit frisky in public? Tha thing didn't have tah come off so a getaway without being in yer birthday suit was possible. But beyond all that, they jist were sexy and he liked tha way they was on Grace. With her aqua hair poured down and the cloth promisin' naht tah be a problem at all? Short of jist being naked under a coat how much better could it get?

"So... wait. I'm supposed to be doing laundry naked? Won't that cause a sensation at the laundromat?" The little stylist made a point of trying to follow his logic, of assuming there was any kind of logic to his words more than a deliberately flimsy excuse to undress her. There was just a little glimmer of mischief in her eyes even as she tried to look earnest.

Even so, Grace reached behind her back, pulling at the strings that were tied in a bow to keep the top half of the sundress on her. It was one of those light cotton dresses in a blue and white pattern, the kind you get in shops by the beach that always have some Indian music playing in the background and always smell heavily of nag champa incense, the kind that also sell wards against the evil eye and candle holders shaped like Ganesha. It was the kind of dress that anybody but a gypsy would call a gypsy dress, with very little structure and almost no weight to it. The whole dress was held together and on by the crisscrossing of thin, flat straps across her back, and it was these that the gypsy wearing it was untying now.

The knot gave, and the whole garment sagged, would have fallen to the floor but for the gentle swell of her hips. Grace used her hands to push the fabric over that little rise, and then the dress was gone. "...Better?"

"Kin borrow my shirt. Might need tah be careful when yah bend ovah, tho." It was all an incredibly flimsy reason to undress her. Mark wasn't even trying to defend it that much, but the more she tried to twist and turn it tha more he felt he was jist gonna have tah tell her tah take the dress off.

Seemed, though, Grace weren't gonna give him tah hard a time about it. Der was always some uncertainty about whether or not a woman was gonna be in tha mood, couldn't jist assume that iffin you smiled right and flirted a little dat it would be enough. Didn't always work dat way, but she'd been smiling and warm tah him, and more often din naht it seemed like it were a connection they needed. His hands skimmed her sides, naht quite like a tickle but to where the tips of his fingers brushed back and forth, feelin the taunt outline o' her stomach as she fidgeted with the bows.

"Ah, but, my laundry day tah, you know," this was a flimsy excuse to take off his shirt while the last of what she were wearing unraveled. When she asked if it was better he blinked, "Yer kidding me...? It's like a thousand times bettah."

"Oh. Well. S'long as I can borrow your shirt, that'll be alright then." Grace stepped out of heap of fabric that had been her dress, pushing it aside with a quick sweep of her toes. A smile painted her face when Mark turned the same lame excuse on himself, peeling off his shirt in the process. She took another sip of her beer, the bottle still clutched in the ring of her fingers with one hand, the other reaching out to run lightly over his chest and down his belly to the waistband of his pants.

"...Good point. Guess we both gotta go to the laundromat naked, yeah?" A coquettish smile on her lips, her fingers slipped just underneath that waistband, her thumb sliding over the front button. "Means these probably need to be washed, too..."

It was a bit more honest to have such a bad excuse, at least he figured there weren't nah doubt as tah whut he were meaning. Beyond that, he liked the little smile she got when she was amused and how she kinda played with it a bit. Mark suspected that it was only Grace being otherwise focused that she didn't defeat tha whole laundry excuse with some logic.

There were something sexy about knowin' someone was lookin' at you like dat. That he saw her eyes move ovah his form, dat here was more din just approval, but want, waiting for him there behind her gaze. Past the tarot tattoos on his ribs, her fingers was sinking intah tha beltline o' his pants. That got him takin' a half step closer tah her. She had tha graceful lines o' a dancer and naht a bit o’ shame tah let him look 'em over, feel 'em over. Occasionally doin' tha all with his mouth.

"Yer really damn sexy, you know," reachin' out fer her now meant his fingertips pressed into the exposed skin of her hips. But it were one hand that broke away tah try tah snag tha beer away from her.

Mark had been finding ways to undress her -- or lame excuses to get her to undress -- almost from the first time they'd really been alone together. Certainly from the time she'd given him that shave. Grace knew the excuse for what it was -nobody is that preoccupied about laundry at three in the morning - but his playfulness was one of a dozen things that made him so attractive. That boyish charm, that curious mix of confident escalation and almost bashful hesitation. The way he knew it was transparent and committed to it anyway. It was a private dance shared just between them, and one of her favorite things.

"I'm so glad you think so," she said in a hushed whisper, her talented fingers working the buckle of his belt, though she left the pinky finger tucked into the waistband itself, like she was holding her place in a favorite book. Mark moved closer, reached for her, and Grace moved closer too. The beer was plucked from her fingers, and her expression said she was maybe thinking about pouting about it, but hadn't quite committed.

It wasn't Grace's fault, really. Well, it were all her fault. It was hard tah be with her and not go from legitimate tah lame reasons fer why der should be some undressing. Was true, though. Ever since she gave him dat shave he were thinking that her wearing clothes was the thing tah be avoided. Was lucky on him she didn't seem tah mind all his efforts.

#5:  Author: Mark LowCan Be Found: Rhy'Din PostPosted: Mon Sep 05, 2016 7:34 am
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Mark and Grace's talk went on like that, in between the kissing. There was some playful banter that melted into admissions of needing each other and of who was teasing who. It was 3 am after an unrelenting car ride. That didn't phase them, though. They had started at the kitchen countertop and ended with him pinning her to the floor of the kitchen.

She said she coulda seen them doin' that fer twenty years. He said he expected flowers when a girl come tah propose to him like that. Year and a day already on account of Beltane... what would happen next?

"Yah always feel sah amazin'," that were his way of sayin' wow. Laying atop of her, his elbows was on tha floor now sah that his hands could tangle slowly, gently, through her blue green locks of hair. His face nudged the inside of her throat befer jumpin' up to make an impression on her cheek and then her lips. "Little Ms. Cassidy..." He said her name like someone would if they were an officer or doin' role-call. There were another nudge of the tip of his nose and chin before he added, "Will yah be my room mate?"

There were his grin then as he looked at her, his weight heavy upon her frame but naht to where it woulda stopped her breath

Grace was half lidded, leaning into those strong fingers as he stroked her hair, her scalp. Her lips were parted, a happy, dreamy smile on her face, and it spread as his mouth moved over her throat and cheek in kisses. Meeting that mouth with her own when it found her, the kiss was a lazy one, indulgent, like all the tension had gone out of her body at once - a puppet with cut strings - but she still wanted to kiss him anyway.

He said her name in that funny formal way and the little dancer giggled, even if some part of her rejected the name, wondering how much longer it would really apply after next May. In her indolent, just-got-laid state, it took her a second to put together what it was he was asking. Somehow, even though they never slept apart anymore anyway, it still surprised her, touched her, made her tummy flutter in a thrilling way. "...Absolutely."

Tha use of the term room-mate was meant tah keep the question light. It was a trick any man worth his salt knew how tah do. It let a woman say no without it being some serious sort of rejection that put an awkwardness between two lovers. But iffin she said yes? One more step tah serious. He had known fer a while that they was inseparable, and at this point who they was in camp was well established. People knew tah go tah Grace if they couldn't find Mark. She was gettin' better and better at givin' people a 'look' if they needed to wait or was interrupting.

"Yeah? You sure? Cause your RV is bettah than mine so you're kinda downgradin', yah know." He arched a brow and smiled. It were true, though. Grace's was bigger, newer, and more spacious. Fer being the Gypsy King he was arguably housed in one of the oldest and worst trailers in camp. Everyone kinda knew why dat was, though. It'd been the trailer he spent more of his life growin' up in with Da and Billie. Yeah, the last twelve years weren't kind to it, but until he ran that thing into the ground, it were a home he weren't ready tah give up.

Folding one leg so that her foot was planted alongside his hip, her knee bent towards the ceiling, Grace had one hand curled around his shoulder. Her brows arched quizzically, playful. "Who says I'm moving into your RV?" Queried with a tilt of her head. She knew damn well his attachment to the smaller vehicle, and honestly she understood why. It wasn't even that she minded the so-called 'downgrade' -- the world of RVs in general was perfectly Grace sized -- but it still seemed like a thing they should at least discuss.

"I still need somewhere to do haircuts and things for the family." Outside would work during the warmer months, but what of the winter months? The rainy days? "...And Ian kinda needs his own space," there was another good reason. Sharing with Quinn and Saila was out of the question because of Dave, and Jenny probably wanted her space back eventually. Grace lifted her free hand, tracing a fingertip lightly along the outer edge of his mouth. This was perhaps the most crucial part of her argument. "And a lot of important firsts happened for us there..." The time she'd shaved him. When he crawled through her window. The first time he'd undressed her. The first time they'd 'made breakfast'. There was a whole lot of history in those walls already.

"Yeah, but... " he was looking hesitant about it. His eyes lifted up from her tah the area. It was small, he knew. It had three spots fer someone to sleep but he and Billie practically shared the same room, just with beds on opposite walls and a cloth divide. Then there was the spot over the driver's seat where da used to sleep. Grace had her points, and they was good, but it were clear he was struggling with tha idea of change, of lettin' gah.

"It's jist been home tah me fer sah long." There were a lot of firsts in this one, too. Naht all those firsts was good, but they was tha stuff life was made of. He adjusted just a bit, his pelvis pressin' intah her's with the weight shift. The idea she proposed got a lot of sense to it, but he was havin' trouble with the idea of lettin' it go. Like he was lettin' go of the last o' da or something. Maybe the last bit o' whut it were like jist tah be one of the guys cause he been in that trailer before taking up charge.

#6:  Author: Mark LowCan Be Found: Rhy'Din PostPosted: Mon Sep 05, 2016 1:59 pm
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Those green eyes watched him curiously, quietly intent. She'd known before she even raised her points that it would be hard for him. It was going to be hard no matter when it happened, now or years from now, whenever the old vehicle died. He'd grown up there. His father had lived there with him. Grace didn't have the same attachment to her space - she'd been a vagabond from the start, even among her own original camp - and if it were just the emotional side of things she'd move in with him in a heartbeat.

But there was the practical side to consider, and being in charge sometimes meant needing to be practical.

"Hey, we don't have to decide right now." She said soothingly, adjusting her pelvis underneath his as he moved. Her fingers lifted from his shoulder to his head, gently running her nails over his scalp to reassure him. "It's not like we have to get rid of either one of them right away, or at all. I just think... we should think about it."

It were clear he was getting worried about it. His frame was tense and he seemed like he wanted tah agree and at the same time... was terribly uncomfortable with tha idea. Someone else living in his home. Well, it wasn't like they were selling the place or trashing it. It would still be there...

Tha right thing was said, tho. When she was sayin' it didn't have tah be decided right away, the pressure of it all seemed to lift off. Okay, he could think on it. But one way or another, they were gonna be livin' tahgether. The finger scratches up his scalp, the reassurance that there was time to think it over, pushed away the bulk of his worry and seemed tah make it like he could smile again. He bowed his head to give her a peck on tha lips, "Yah, we can give it a think fer sure." He couldn't argue with tha logic, no way around that. All he had, though, was that enormous tug of reluctance tah let go. Mehbe sometimes he was the sort that needed the push.

Grace smiled, relief in her eyes when he visibly relaxed. Lifting her head off the floor, she tipped her face in towards his to brush a light kiss over the slight stubble of his cheek. "I'd live in a tent by the city dump with you, Mark. The important thing is that we're together, wherever we end up." She kissed him again, closer to the corner of his mouth this time, before she settled back.

"In the meantime, maybe we crawl into your bed and watch a movie?" She was thoroughly enjoying the weight of his body on top of hers, but it was getting to be extremely late and she didn't figure falling asleep on the kitchen floor was good for either of them.

"I hear dat the prices o' those tents is outta control, now," it was a playful response, which was his habit. Mark tended tah give offhanded and lighthearted retorts. That might have been habit from da or the grooming of someone who dealt with too many problems going on. It was best notah let someone get worked up and think that their issues were the end of the world and needed blood.

She mentioned crawling into the bed and he nodded, quickly. His hands pinned on the ground ovah her head and din he pushed up, like a bridge ovah her. Their connection severed in a way that kinda hurt but still was feeling sexy. Like he got one more reminder of heaving bodies and bein’ spent jist before the separation. On his knees, lookin' at her legs spread towards him when he said, "Whut movie?"

Time tah quit staring. He got tah his feet, both hands offered down tah her.

Grace laughed quietly, shaking her head. Very familiar with that tendency of his now, she couldn't help thinking about how it was one more thing that distinguished him so drastically from the other leader whose bed she'd once shared. The comparison was on her mind again lately- much as she tried to avoid it- because Aunt Rally had brought it up the first time she got Grace alone after it had been made known that the girl was handfasted to Mark. You got a thing for men in charge, don'tcha girl?

Shaking her head to clear her mind, Grace raked her fingers through her hair, squirming just a little when the Gypsy King pulled away. Laughing in earnest when he decided to help her, she pulled herself upright at last. Hands were offered down to her, so she took them, using his weight to lift herself to her feet and into his arms once more. "Mm. Something funny."

"Anythin' fer tha Queen. Tha Not-Queen?" He restated with minor correction. Then she was standing, both their pale figures marked with the red blushing from sex. There were gently red half-moon shapes of where teeth had tried its will against skin. His hands was still holding her's when she stood up, loosenin' only tah catch her figure against his form. Tha suggestion of tha movie in mind made him smile as he stepped backward, tuggin' her along tah the steppin’ spot which lead up tah his bed.

"Ladies first," a motion. Beyond that, a selfish enjoyment o' the view. He had to stretch, catch and snag the ipad befer crawlin' back up tah her. Naht a problem tah jist sleep naked under tha sheets with her.

That pretty giggle spilled from her lips and she leaned forward, pressing a wet kiss to the left side of his chest. "M'Queen to you and Not-Queen to everybody else," said the girl with a playful grin, and she followed him to the ladder without much prompting.

No thought was given to her discarded clothes - or his for that matter - as she climbed those few rungs at his suggestion. Grace knew perfectly well that his desire to have her go first wasn't strictly rooted in chivalry no matter what he said, but she went anyway, letting him look. Mark was spot on about that -- there was something about having someone look at you like that, desire and appreciation still there no matter how many times they'd seen it before.

Once she'd made it onto the mattress, Grace crawled underneath the covers, plumping the pillows and straightening the sheets here and there until he'd joined her. As soon as he'd made it into bed beside her, the girl would be wiggling her way back into him, seeking that static-cling connection.

"Oh yeah?" he grinned at her bit about tha titles that they liked to play around with. And when she ascended those few stairs he was watching her, bitin' on his lower lip at the final angle. Once they were both up in that little cavern-like bed space, he was quick to find a place to snuggle in behind her. One of his feet was curled partly around her's, the ipad was propped up on the mattress. He had an arm under her neck, his free one outstretched and swiping over tha screen tah find somethin' good tah watch.

"Dis one is pretty silly but..." he shrugged a bit and double tapped on the movie title "Cabin Boy." The opening credits of maps and fish started to rolled befer he kissed her cheek. They was wrapped in each other, all right, and hopefully she would forgive the selection.

A little shrug rolled over her shoulders. "Y'always tellin' me you 'ain't nah King," she replied, mimicking his speech pattern almost perfectly. "But you are to me, so. Makes sense, yeah?" She twisted around to kiss him on the nose before settling in against him.

"Cabin Boy, huh? I don't think I've seen this one..." Using his one arm like a pillow and the other like a blanket, she settled in to watch the movie, little suspecting what madness she was about to be subjected to.



Red Dragon Inn - Dragon's Mark -> The Caravan Circuit


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