texas skies. [flint/grey]

[Charity Hendricks]

The stifling summer heat wrapped its way around everything in its path, and Charity was just lucky enough to be caught in its ever tightening grip. With a heavy sigh the seventeen year old stopped briefly at the bottom of the small, rickety staircase leading up to her small, but somewhat formidable little cabin. The little house was rather friendly looking, white shutters and door and all. In fact, in the neighborhood she resided in, though small, her house was one of the most well kept around. Charity took pride in her belongings. She had worked hard for what she had, and because she had worked so hard, it was only right that she put the effort in to take care of her purchases. She worked long hours, scouring the neighborhood, busying herself with cleaning anyone's house who could afford it. She made decent money doing it, some employers more generous than others. It was all a game of chance, but in her full twelve months of working she'd developed some pretty regular families on her schedule.

She shook her head at the rambling thoughts that rolled through her mind in a steady pace, and pushed a hand through her blond waves. They broke around her fingers, like the parting waters of the ocean before falling back into place again, in its not so uniform way. The blue eyed teenager stomped up the stairs, shaking dust loose from her boots and the hem of her dress, a frown decorating her pixie like face. Her icy eyes scurried across the boards, searching for any loose ends in need of repair. Once satisified, the five foot three girl made her way to the front door, pulling a key from beneath her neckline. She slid the thin leather line from around her porcelain neck and fit the key swiftly and expertly into the doorknob, and with a click, the white door swung open.

The house was modest and pleasing to look at. Though not overly decorated, the house was bursting with small, concentrated amounts of color, except for one. Atop the small wooden island which separated the living room from the kitchen was a glass vase. The vase itself was simple and not worth much, but inside were six white roses. Charity laid her eyes on them briefly, a sense of calm welcome washing over her. The house smelt warm, like cinnamon, or vanilla, or even a mixture of the two, but Charity didn't know why. She didn't cook too terribly often, never had enough time to eat at home anyway. Just more of a mess for her to clean up later.

Charity let the door swing closed behind her, for once not locking it as she made her way deeper into her small cabin. She laid the key on the counter next to the roses, hand brushing a small end table which concealed her only protection, a small but reliable and always faithful revolver. Though she doubted her ability to use it, so she prayed if ever need be, the site of her holding it would simply be enough to intimidate her predators. She let her hand shift through her hair again on instinct as she bustled around the cozy little cottage, changing clothes into a crisp white sundress and kicked off her shoes. She preferred to be barefoot. She felt closer to the earth, safer on her own two feet. Shoes just got in the way, tripped you up, and often ended up with Charity face down in the dust. Not fun.

She smirked to herself, plush lips firmly closed as she settled into a cusion covered chair and pulled her knees to her chest. The sky was pink and orange, a sure sign that the sun was beginning to set in the western Texas sky, which probably also meant it was about six in the evening. The young blond closed her eyes and leaned her head back, welcoming a wave of sleep to wash over her after the long day's work.

[Flint]

Flint

This is ten percent luck, twenty percent skill,
Fifteen percent concentrated power of will.
Five percent pleasure, fifty percent pain,
And a hundred percent reason to remember the name...

[/color]

.xXx. “Hurry it up, shitheads—do you want us to get caught?” The young, blue eyed man hissed in a somewhat urgent manner as he rustled through the currently unoccupied home, his eyes flitting from place to place, mind racing with thoughts of where to check next, what to take. “Take it easy, Flint. Ain’t no one goin’ a’ catch us.” One of the three men muttered back under his breath, causing Flint’s eyes to narrow accusatively, body tensing with clear irritation. He paused in order to send the fellow Pistoleros member a cold, warning glare, before turning away from him in order to continue digging through the personal belongings of the home. Immediately, the member who’d spoken against Flint hurried back to his duties in a rather flustered manner, checking the pockets of any clothing lying out in the open. He was younger then Flint, as was the other member with them, and so, automatically, the dark-haired nineteen year old had assumed the role as lead. If the other two wanted to challenge him, then all the power to them—but, should they do such a thing, Flint might just have to remind them of what he was capable of. He had no problem with beating on a fellow member in order to assert his dominance; if it was needed, then so be it. And, by the reaction he got out of the guy, it seemed he was vitally aware of this fact.

Flint continued rummaging through the rather attractive, pristine home, taking no mercy whatsoever in fully tearing the place apart. He pulled drawers from their places only to drop them if they held anything of little value, and would dig through anything and anything, as if there was no such thing as privacy. Flint’s job was all he had, and thus, was most important to him. He’d return back to the gang with items worth something, whether he was raiding houses all night, or not. Finally, after a good ten minutes, a holler from one of the boys in the room across the hall from Flint caught his attention, and immediately he dropped the picture frame he’d been holding, and jogged over to meet the man. He was staring at a small, hand-crafted jewelry box, and immediately, a satisfied little grin began to tug at Flint’s lips. “Don’t bother going through it. Take it, and let’s get out of here.” He said easily, his tone considerably more relaxed, all before the sound of voices nearby made him freeze. A hushed, friendly conversation could be heard from just outside the front door, and immediately, Flint looked towards his comrades, only to see fear etched across their features. He wracked his mind for a solution to the problem, but before he could come up with one, the door was opened, and the stifled gasp of a woman immediately graced past his ears.

Noticing the window was firmly closed, and knowing well there wouldn’t be enough time for himself, as well as the two others, to slide through, Flint took initiative and pulled the revolver from his waistband, motioning for his two men to follow. Heaving a silent breath, he then proceeded to walk into the hall, pulling up his gun to eye-level, in order to keep it trained firmly on the husband and wife of whom had just entered. Immediately, the woman melted against her husband in clear fear, and though Flint could tell the man was also afraid, he instead tensed up, eyes narrowing with malice. “Let us leave, and no one has to get hurt.” Flint said far too casually, jerking the gun towards the couch in order to get the two to move away from the door. They did so, surprisingly obediently, and Flint and his boys walked towards the front door, somewhat warily; as if expecting for the husband to try something. Adrenaline thrummed within the young man as he did so, pumping through his entire body causing him to tense in reaction, anticipating a possible fight. He waited until the two others had run off down the road and ducked into a nearby alley to bring his gun down to his side, and, with a wink for the woman and a salute for the man, he proceeded to turn and run off down the road, immediately taking shelter within the alley.

“Shit, we weren’t sure you were gunna come out a’ there, man. We were worried.” Flint, in response, let out a confident little laugh, before throwing a punch into one of his accomplice’s shoulder. The three began to walk on down the alley, bags somewhat full with newfound treasures, before Flint let out a small chuckle of his own, his eyes brimming with something dangerously close to arrogance. “Worried?” Flint snorted, before slinging his cloth bag over his other shoulder, and casting a mocking little glance towards the boys. “You underestimate me.” He just finished with a roll of his shoulders, before pausing, eyes flickering towards the house standing in front of the three, quaint, yet undeniably tempting. With the sudden pause the other two looked towards Flint, then towards the house, before both of their lips spread into a small, devious little grin. “Last one of the night; let’s make it a good one.” Flint said with a smile, before jogging up to the home.

It took but a few seconds for Flint to be standing on the porch, both friends behind him, in order for him to take hold of the cool surface of the doorknob, and turn it. Expecting it to be locked, surprise flitted subconsciously across the young man’s features when the door didn’t hesitate to let them in, and, being as noiseless as he could, the man slipped through the door, before motioning for the boys to come in after him. It was once he was inside, however, in which he caught sight of the woman, sleeping curled onto the couch. “Damn.” One of his friends whispered, and Flint smirked, letting his eyes roam over her body, a newly born hunger causing his eyes to darken. Wanting to wake the woman up, one of Flint’s comrades kicked at one of the nearest nightstands, causing the leg to snap, which, in turn, sent the entire table collapsing to the ground. Flint pulled his revolver, immediately, and trained it on the woman, his slight smirk mocking, yet full of enjoyment. How would she react, to such a display? Flint could only hope for the best.

Who the hell is he anyway?
He never really talks much,
Never concerned with status but still leaving them star struck...

Words:, 1, 155
Muse: Alright
Notes: Still getting used to him, and this kinda fails.. but they'll get better![/blockquote][/blockquote][/size]

[Charity Hendricks]

It had been a long, achingly repetitive day. Her muscles thrummed in arms and legs. Her knees were bruised from kneeling on harsh wooden and stone floors. Her fingers cramped from closing endlessly on sponges, brushes and wash cloths. A soft, sultry moan left her lips as she leaned against the armrest of the chair, letting her head fall back loosely. Her hand fell free, fingertips brushing the floor briefly before a wet tongue caressed her fingers. Shocked, Charity sat up, only to find the unique little blue merle sheepdog cross sitting happily beside her, tail wagging eagerly. ”Did you miss me, sweet girl?” Charity muttered, smiling vaguely to herself and letting her hand brush atop Carly's velvet soft head. It got quite lonely here. After abandoning her self-destructive parents at sixteen, Charity had fled with a great speed that left her slamming into the wall of life involuntarily. She'd had to mature a lot in the year she'd been able to actually appreciate the world around her.

Being locked in a black as night, windowless room for the first sixteen years of her life had left Charity Rose with much to learn. But it was almost to her benefit that she had never experienced cleaning or cooking, or really anything for that matter-- it made it all the more fun now. Charity willingly tackled every day with an enthusiastic outlook, and made friends almost wherever she went. Though she was not the richest in the quaint neighborhood, she was certainly not looked down upon. In fact, she was held in high esteem due to her fervent work ethic and passionate alacrity to please. She didn't have as much as her neighbors, but the few things she did have were not cheap. She saved up for them, worked hard. And her next plan was the purchase one of the ranches down the street, earn a generous supply of money to play with and make her wealth by selling home-grown goods on the market.

But those were all just dreams.

But the fact that her house wasn't has vibrantly furnished or even as openly noticeable as the other houses made it all the more surprising when there was a sound crashing behind her. That's when her eyes flew open and Charity realized in her restless nature she'd fallen asleep while thinking. She was a small thing, barley one hundred and ten pounds, but this somehow worked to her advantage. Her enticing eyes flung over the predator standing so close, a revolver trained on her. She closed her eyes briefly, thoughts reeling through her mind. What seemed like minutes was mere seconds before she'd come to an aching conclusion. She shoved herself off the chair lithely keeping close to the floor. Stupidly bold, she jerked over the end table next to the chair. It clanged noisily to the ground beside her, the drawer spilling its contents onto the floor. Just what she needed. The revolver clanked next to her and her fingers wrapped around it instinctively, a sense of relief washing over her slightly.

But it was too soon to celebrate, she shoved herself off the floor, training her own gun back at him. Her hands shook slightly, but obviously, the barrel of the small revolver trembling awkwardly. She bit her lip, breathing labored more in fear than exhaustion. Her finger rested on the trigger, but due to her inexperience the gun was useless. She hadn't cocked it, nor did she know she needed to. She'd simply never been taught how to handle a gun in her years hidden away from the world. She carefully pushed herself up into the standing position, eyes firm but fearful. She had absolutely NO idea what she was doing. A breath fell out of her lips and her hand steadied slightly, only to resume quaking lightly once again. Her eyes found the table which had caused the sound and she groaned inwardly. There went half her savings, unless she could figure out how to fix it herself. But now wasn't the time to stress about replacing items-- she was supposed to be fearing for her life.

”I-I do believe you owe me a table.” She spoke in a confident way, but it was all a lie. There was an obvious tremor in her voice as she eyed the other two men. Suddenly Carly burst in the room. Charity sucked in a weak breath, watching the dog bolt toward the men. But it wasn't aggressive. Of course not, why would a dog protect her owner when there were more people to pet her? The sheepdog ran at the two men behind her assailant, planting dusty paws over their pants and shirts, tongue lolling and drooling on their arms and hands. She even through in a few excited jumps, aiming licks at their faces. Charity gritted her teeth and focused back on the revolver-baring man, surprised she was still alive. ”What do you want?” She asked carefully, eyes silently pleading he not do her harm. The gun hung loosely in her grip, still useless. She sighed heavily. ”I don't have much money.. I'm not rich. Just a hard worker.” The sundress hung just above her knees. No, of course it wasn't proper, but Charity grew hot at night in dresses any longer, so she'd hemmed her own. But now she felt positively exposed standing before three woman-hungry men with a dress that only reached her thighs and hung loosely on her shoulders.

Finally, she dropped the gun slowly. ”If you don't shoot, I won't.” You'd probably shoot yourself on accident anyway, She laid the gun on the chair, mind finishing her sentence for herself. Charity backed up two paces before realizing the wall was so close. Her skin pressed into the wall, shrinking away from the men as far as she could manage with a wood wall shoving into her back. She took a deep breath and tightly closed her intoxicating eyes, waiting to here either the bullet exit the barrel, or the gun be rendered harmless with that ever-relieving click.

[Flint]

Flint


This is ten percent luck, twenty percent skill,
Fifteen percent concentrated power of will.
Five percent pleasure, fifty percent pain,
And a hundred percent reason to remember the name...

[/i]

.xXx. [/color]There was a certain, somewhat sick satisfaction brewing within the depths of Flint’s expression as he eyed the woman before him, watching as her mind scrambled for a decision; to fight, or flight? The man made little move to shoot as she fumbled around for the gun, a partly amused, partly mocking smirk tugging at the edge of his lips. He knew that a gun could be dangerous, yes—however, only if it was in the hand of a dangerous person. And, this woman? She could hardly be counted as dangerous. Flint’s amusement grew as he observed the way her hands shook as she aimed the firearm at him, her expression clear with a false sense of confidence. He knew she was hardly as strong as she was attempting to seem to be, and because of this, felt some respect for the woman. So many collapsed to the ground in fright with the pressure of having a gun trained on them, while this stranger, a frighteningly attractive stranger at that, was standing her ground, despite how obviously against her nature it seemed. The thought vaguely intrigued Flint, and it occurred to him then that, if him and his boys were to stay, they’d tear apart this little home like they had all the rest.

Perhaps it was the fact she’d captured his interest, but either way, Flint found himself not wanting that to happen.

“I-I do believe you owe me a table.” The blue-eyed man was vitally aware of the wavering tone of her voice, and immediately, his smirk widened into a little, amused grin. He needed to play along if he was to get the other two guys out of the house, and so, he’d need to act like any other Pistoleros member would. As violent and nasty as possible. “We don’t owe you shit, ‘ight? Best not be throwing accusations at us, Love.” Flint responded to her earlier comment without hesitating, giving the other two members not a second to get a word in. His eyes remained firmly on her, searing into her own eyes, and though there was a fairly dark glimmer within their light depths, majority of his expression was still a mocking amusement. It was, however, right after Flint had finished his statement, when a dog burst into the room. Flint didn’t move the gun, no matter how he was tempted to, and instead watched as the animal went and slobbered on each of his comrades, sending them both warning glares, telling them to not lay a hand on the animal. The Pistoleros may be known for some shit, yes, but he would not let innocent animals be beat on while he was in charge. “Seems like one hell of a watch dog, you’ve got there.” He remarked with a snide chuckle, before taking a dangerous step closer to the woman, his head tilting, expression turning predatory.

“What do you want? I don’t have much money... I’m not rich. Just a hard worker.” With that, Flint quirked a brow, an idea igniting within the back of his mind. He studied her for a moment, his expression startlingly calculating, before he looked back to his other two members, sending them a discreet wag of his brows. He’d need to plant the idea within their heads as well, and make sure his plan was very, very clear. “If you don’t shoot, I won’t.” As the brunette man turned back to look at the stranger, his two fellow’s expression held a new, sadistic hunger; knowing well what was to come of the delicate woman. Flint, more for effect then anything, let his eyes roam slowly down the woman’s body, satisfaction clearly sparking within his expression as the sight of her exposed legs caused his smirk to broaden. “In that case,” Flint shoved his Pistol into the waistband of his loose pants, eyes unmoving from the woman before him. “mind giving the two of us some privacy, guys? I’d love to share, but I think I’d much rather have this one for myself.” He spoke dangerously slow as he spoke, hands flying to his belt, in order to begin to undo the buckle. His eyes spoke of devilish, dark intentions as he watched the woman, before sending her a wink as he dropped his belt to the floor. The others, smirking to one another, evacuated the home easily, just as Flint began to close in.

Knowing well the two were going to be listening, or perhaps even creeping on in through the windows, Flint walked towards the woman, pausing only once he was a few feet away from her, head tilted still, expression holding a lusty hunger. He was sure to move slowly, though quickly enough not to grant her escape, and placed a hand on either side of her, firmly against the wall. His eyes strayed from her towards the window briefly, before he chuckled and leaned into her, his body hesitating only inches away from her own. He trailed his mouth lightly along her neck, before pausing, plush lips poised right near her ear. “Next time you want to try and seem intimidating, loading the gun might be a good idea.” He said with a smirk, before jerking forwards in order to grasp onto the cord attached to the blinds, only to pull on it, successfully covering the window from any outsider’s view. Once Flint was sure no one could get a good view of the two, he took a few quick steps back, before flopping down onto her couch, his hand groping around on the ground to grasp at his belt. “The name’s Flint, and I definitely just saved your ass.” He said with a small chuckle, partnered with yet another wink, before crossing his arms over his full chest. What can I say; the boy’s got skills with making an interesting first impression.

Who the hell is he anyway?
He never really talks much,
Never concerned with status but still leaving them star struck...

Words: 1, 052
Muse: Getting bettur
Notes: Hope it's okay!<3[/blockquote][/blockquote][/size]

[Charity Hendricks]

God, why did his voice have to be so sexy? Charity wanted to slap herself. Why did she care?! Her life was in danger and she was contemplating on how sexy his voice actually was. Frustration thrummed through her restless mind because of the predicament she'd been placed in. Escape? How? She knew this house better than any bastard home wrecker, and the only problem with that was that there were only three real rooms in the entire cabin, and two doors. The rooms were completely blocked from her reach, and the doors themselves, though in reach, it would be stupid for her to make an attempt. Especially when she was staring down the barrel of a revolver.

She'd nixed the ideas of escaping. Maybe the chance would present itself eventually-- she hoped it would. After some seconds she let out a breath, not realizing she'd been holding it for so long. Oxygen rushed into her veins, and her head suddenly felt heavy, causing her to blink several times in order to keep her feet beneath her. She was stronger than that, she had to be. She wouldn't back down, she had to protect her home, this was everything she'd worked for.. Her mind continued rambling to itself while her eyes continued processing the situation. Suddenly her mind snapped out of it- words were being exchanged. “In that case.” She eyed him carefully. The revolver had been removed, something she hadn't noticed while in her miserable daydreaming, but the tone of his voice intrigued her more. What was he going to say? As if on cue, her overactive mind set to work assuming all the different situation he could put her in, but the worst hadn't crossed her mind until he revealed his intentions. That's when she got scared.

”mind giving the two of us some privacy, guys? I’d love to share, but I think I’d much rather have this one for myself.” A shaky breath was exhaled at the sound of that. He could only mean one thing! But he turned back at her and one eye closed in a salutary wink, and that's when confusion echoed into her. Adrenaline folded itself into her very core, shredded every fiber of her being. Her fear lifted slightly, but anxiety only replaced it. What did he mean to do? What had the wink meant? Uhg, too many questions! Charity closed her shiver-worthy eyes, a dark cloud of worry settling over her shoulders. There was a ceremony of clicks and clinks of medal and slipping of leather, what she assumed to be his belt, causing dread to wash over her once more. Defensively, her scar covered arms crossed over her chest. He'd have to tear her apart if he wanted her for that reason, because she would not simply allow him to use and abuse her, she was not his toy, and whether he saw her as one or not was his problem, he had another thing coming for him

The door creaked as it opened, and Charity's eyes flipped open wide, immediately darting for an escape route, and way to reach the door. She saw one, clear in front of her, but then she second guessed herself. She was small, weighed hardly anything, and was much, much slower than all three of the men surrounding her home. Bad idea. But it was too late anyway. Her icy eyes focused on the undeniably handsome man approaching her. She shook her head, voice choking in her throat as she nearly begged for mercy, completely disregarding his wink he'd shot her earlier. But she swallowed the whimper down and met his gaze confidently. She would not let this no good, fake, inferior, spurious mongrel of a- her mind was cut off mid-sentence when he placed his arms on either side of her. He leaned above her, nearly a full twelve inches taller at least. She stared up at him with false conviction, breath caught in her lungs.

His lips brushed her neck in the most seductive of ways. She shouldn't be liking this, but then again she shouldn't have left the door open either, should she of? Was she making a list of her past regrets now? No, she wasn't. Because if she was, she shouldn't still be enjoying the oddly gentle touch of his lips against her collar. His lips halted centimeters from her ear, close enough she felt his warm breath on her cheek. She sucked in a breath, fighting the fact that she felt disappointment that he had stopped. Why on earth did she want him to continue? It wasn't right, it wasn't safe, it wasn't, it, it wasn't anything! She wanted to shout some sense into herself, but couldn't will herself to do so with her assailant so, so close.

”Next time you want to try and seem intimidating, loading the gun might be a good idea.” And with that comment she rolled her eyes in annoyance. ”Oh God, you're on of those guys.” She muttered beneath her breath. ”The egotistical, no good, better than everyone there ever was kind of guy. Am I right?” She spoke slightly louder, more confident than before, fear dissipating with every word. She made no move to follow him as he strode to her couch and plopped down, making himself right at home on her property. Disgust rolled into her expression as her arms loosened across her chest, nearly dropping her her sides before she noticed movement from the corner of her eye. ”The name’s Flint, and I definitely just saved your ass.” But she was hardly listening. Her eyes flipped to the only bare window in the room, where two heads had ducked below very quickly.

Charity's lips parted slightly, questioning her vision before she saw a head appear once more before realizing he'd been spotted. Her striking eyes flashed to Flint. ”Well, Flint dear, you haven't saved me yet.” She arched an eyebrow at him cautiously, still not entirely comfortable around this overly confident male. ”You missed a window.” She nodded toward the rather large glass portal, pristine in condition from being scrubbed earlier that day. The tip of a hat was still visible near the sill. She looked back at him now, panic setting in again. She opened her mouth to speak, muscles quivering ready to run. She didn't say anything. Why would she rely on him to continue saving her? The front door was just beyond him, and she could probably reach the neighbor's house before they could get to her. She sucked in a deep breath and lunged forward a step before her mind, once again, and horrifyingly second guessed itself and she halted mid-stride, eyes flickering from the window back to Flint in shear fear, not bothering to mask the despair written in her expression.

[Flint]

Flint


This is ten percent luck, twenty percent skill,
Fifteen percent concentrated power of will.
Five percent pleasure, fifty percent pain,
And a hundred percent reason to remember the name...

[/i]


.xXx.[/color] There was something so, beautifully intoxicating about being so close to a woman. Flint could feel the heat from her slim body softly gracing the sensitive skin of his chest, his neck. Goosebumps rose along his arms with such closeness, and though he tried to keep strictly to his plan, Flint found his intentions longing to waver; would it truly be so bad, if he were to take her right then and there? The man’s brow nearly furrowed with the thought, before he preoccupied his mind with kissing gently along the contour of her neck, before letting his amused, hushed words slither past parted lips without restraint.

Immediately, a large, though subdued, smile crept across his lips, and as the man began to back away a few casual steps, he nearly broke into a chuckle with the disapproving display she showed from his words. “Oh god, you’re one of those guys. The egotistical, no good, better then everyone there ever was kind of guy. Am I right?” Her fear seemed to diminish with each and every confidently spoken word, and Flint only found himself growing increasingly amused by her clear irritation. He flopped back onto her couch, putting his hands leisurely behind his head, before tilting his head at her, expression positively amused.

“Hey, let’s get something straight here, alright?” He asked with a rise of his brow, his voice growing more demanding, though a playful tone still fluttered within the depths of his words. “I’m not better then everyone there ever was. I’m better than most of them, but not all of them.” The brunette responded far too easily, the remark dripping with sarcasm and mocking. He was willing to admit he could be a pretty egotistical, obnoxious guy—so hey, why not let the woman know what she was dealing with? Flint observed the woman as something oddly close to disgust seemed to devour her features, her arms—which had been previously clasped around herself—slowly began to relax, which the young man found somewhat encouraging. If she didn’t feel threatened any longer, that was good, was it not? Oddly enough, Flint wasn’t entirely sure.

It wasn’t a moment after the woman finished speaking, in which Flint took note of her eyes darting towards the far window. Immediately, his heart began pounding faster, as the pressure to be accepted by his peers seemed to cloud his mind. If his friends though he’d lied to them, well, he was as good as out of the gang. Fuck. “Well, Flint dear, you haven’t saved me yet.” The man’s body tensed noticeably as he wracked his brain for an answer to the possibility of sure disaster, as the woman before him nodded towards the window, seemingly aware of the dangerous circumstances. “You missed a window.” It was then, an idea bloomed within Flint’s mind, causing a devilish little smile to curve his plush lips.

As the woman took a few steps forwards, what seemed to be towards the door, he reached from his place on the couch in order to grasp onto her curvaceous hips, before swinging to shove her down onto the couch with startling force. He put little care into being gentle, though was aware that the couch was rather soft, and that his grip was hardly enough to leave more than a bruise. He leaned over her, shifting in order to get comfortable, before lowering himself down in order to kiss her, his lips far too eager to take her own into a passionate embrace. His hands quickly found her hips, but it wasn’t a moment later that one of his hands abandoned her sides in order to grasp his gun, only to fire a rather blind shot at the window.

The glass shattered without any hesitation however, thus proving his accuracy as good, and immediately following the break came a round of outraged yells and laughter, from the boys outside. They were waiting, and Flint knew exactly what for. “Scream.” The young man breathed, having reluctantly torn himself away from the woman’s lips, though his face stayed poised only inches from her. His arms held him easily above her, and as he awaited her reaction, he sent her a single, encouraging yet arrogant, little smile. Little did she knew, he’d enjoyed that far more then he should have.

Who the hell is he anyway?
He never really talks much,
Never concerned with status but still leaving them star struck...

Words: 788
Muse: Alright
Notes: SORRY IT'S SHORT THIS TIME. :c And, I hope I gave you enough to go off of. *dies*[/blockquote][/blockquote][/size]

[Charity Hendricks]

His cockiness was utterly unbearable, so sure of himself, so proud and rather obnoxious. Why was she drawn to such sham of a man? He wasn't real. She had no idea what he intended to do to her, yet here she stood holding what could be considered an average conversation with him in her living room.. Hadn't he just broken into her house, broken her table, threatened to rape her, and kissed her neck in ways that made her want more of him? And how the hell did she keep getting back on the subject of wanting more of him? Too many questions, and too little time. With her failed escape attempt under her belt, she was shocked to find his hands grabbing her hips. She gave startled gasp, first instincts to swat him away from her, but her mind's ever growing in popularity second guesses made things far more interesting. She didn't resist, instead, she fell into him easily, in fact, maybe a little more willingly than she liked to admit.

The grip of his hands was achingly rough on her hips, arresting her of her movement and holding her firmly beneath him. She'd stared up at him cautiously, but not fighting his touch. His fingers pressed into her skin, hard enough to cause an uncomfortable pressure, not pain, though she almost guessed she would have some sort of mark before the night was over. It wasn't even dinner time yet. But who needed dinner when they had almost six feet of Flint leaning over them? Charity wasn't willing to answer that question, though her choice was obvious. It felt like minutes that he was holding himself above her, but in fact it was much, much less. Suddenly his face had closed in on hers, and his lips captured hers in a delicious imprisonment. A shiver raced up her spine and her fingers dug into the cushions of the couch pulling at the fabric forcefully.

She hadn't been prepared for the kiss, but her brain obviously knew what it wanted. She lay still for less than a second, shocked by the warm feeling of his lips against hers, and even more astounded that she didn't want him to stop. The blonde lifted her head slightly, pressing her lips into his more fully, the feeling sending fire through her veins, making her toes and finger tips buzz with the excitement that lit up her stomach into thousands of butterflies hurrying around in no particular pattern. Her insides felt like a roller coaster on a ninety degree drop, a hurried breath lodged in her throat as the pretty seventeen year old met his kiss with one of her own. It felt like hours, days maybe, but then it changed. A hand flew from her hip, and startled she began to squirm beneath him, hearing the gun click. She quickly assumed the bullet was for her, but all too soon there was the sound of solid rain smashing to the floor.

The last shards of glass sprinkled to the floor and there were hoots and hollers coming from outside, much clearer now that they were exposed from their hiding place. A terrified Charity shoved against the solid mass of man to no avail. She needed out of the prison of his arms, no good could come of this, none at all. But she quickly gave up, understanding she was no match against the cage he'd trapped her in. She gazed up at him, feeling vulnerable, smaller than ever, and above all, scared. But Flint didn't look frightening. In fact, he looked somewhat concerned, for her maybe? She shoved the thought away, scolding herself for such thoughts. But then he said it. ”Scream.” Charity paused, confused for a second. But that's all it lasted before she realized what he meant- that he was actually saving her life. She scrutinized him from her position beneath.

A shaky breath was exhaled before she looked at him squarely, and gave him a wink, nearly identical to the one he'd reassured her with. She carefully begin to shift beneath him. She moved as if trapped and left out a stifled cry mixed with a weak sob of terror here and there, some fake and some real. She fought against him, knowing he could take it, and let her cries slip into nothingness slowly, as if she'd either lost consciousness, or will to fight completely. She lay quiet until she was sure she could no longer hear them. Her muscles were tense and ached within her body. His one hand, still on her hip was tight as it had been, ensuring a bruise would be left now after all her scrambling. The female heaved out a breath, lungs aching for oxygen after the fight she'd put up. Once she'd caught her breath she looked at him, accusations laced in her glare. ”You.. You kissed me.” She complained, a scowl on her face. She couldn't keep the act up for long. ”And now you owe me a table and a window.” She looked at him with an arresting stare.

Don't do it, Charity. Her logical mind warned urgently. Her frustration about the window disappeared, and her gaze softened slightly, chilling eyes meeting his own captivating blue irises. ”You kissed me..” She repeated slowly, as if believing it had been a dream-- that magical feeling that she so longed to feel again. A small smile crept to her lips from beneath him. The long-haired blonde wiggled beneath him, allowing her arms to escape his grasp, and slowly, very, very slowly, and extremely cautiously wrapped them around his neck. ”My turn.” She muttered and brought herself up to him, pressing her lips to his once again in pure ecstasy. That same fire surged through her veins, exploding at her heart and filling her lungs with precious air. She kissed him. And kissed him hard.

[Flint]

Flint


This is ten percent luck, twenty percent skill,
Fifteen percent concentrated power of will.
Five percent pleasure, fifty percent pain,
And a hundred percent reason to remember the name...

[/i]


.xXx. [/color]At first, Flint was oddly surprised with her lack of fight, when he grasped tightly onto her hips, before forcefully tugging her down to the couch beneath him. Where an expression brimming with fear or anger should have been, instead sat one of simple, quaint caution; as if she knew she was in trouble, and both of their lives depended on what was to happen next. Flint had always been a young man of whom based decisions off of his instincts, leaving his logical mind abandoned, drowning alone in its near nonexistence. And, this situation was certainly no different. Where any, calculating, logical individual may have sat to think out the possibilities, Flint jumped into action—and, though it left the ravishing stranger in somewhat of an uncomfortable situation, it solved the problem. Besides, if we’re being truthful now, Flint rather enjoyed the considerably compromising position the two were currently in. Wouldn’t any male, in his position? The man nearly smirked with the thought, before leaning down in order to meet her lips with his own, eager ones, and partaking in a kiss with the passion and intensity of nothing Flint had felt before.

The contact set his entire body on fire, causing the man to tense, each and every muscle within his body contracting and pulling taut, out of what he figured was a mixture of delight, anticipation, and raw excitement. Liquid adrenaline coursed through his veins with each and every tantalizing moment passing by, and as the woman responded with more enthusiasm then he had bargained for, Flint’s heart rate exploded within his muscular chest, pounding in his ears. He leaned closer to her subconsciously, his vice-like grip on her hips tightening, as ecstasy began to consume him, slowly devouring what rational mind he had before they kissed. He pressed up against her, his skin singing with the new contact, as an ache of an entirely new nature began to bloom within his core. The man’s brow furrowed, jaw tightening with the realization that he was getting far too ahead of himself, and it was then he chose to shoot at the window, tearing his lips away from the woman as he did so. It was a rather painful loss, and immediately Flint ran his tongue over his top lip, savouring the taste of her as if it was his last.

Little did he know, it certainly wouldn’t be.

When his two comrades began hooting and hollering, Flint leaned forwards yet again, in order to murmur one, soft, pleading command. He hardly asked a woman to do something for him, but this—this, she had to. Otherwise, they’d both be screwed. Not screwing, as Flint might have hoped, but legitimately screwed. A moment of hesitation from the stranger had Flint’s insides churning with insecurity, though as soon as the woman winked, nothing but the swift closing of one of her delightfully hypnotic eyes, to reassure him that she understood what was needed. The corner of his lips pulled up in somewhat of a half-smirk, before she began to writhe and fight below him, unfathomably realistic sobs and cries slipping through her parted lips. He fought her attempts at mock escape easily, using both his weight and constricting grip on her hips to keep her down steady, and after a few, long minutes, heaved a breath in time with her, knowing well the threat had receded, much like that of the ocean tide. The man thought briefly about sitting up straight after he’d finished, though feared any further separation from her might turn his attitude rather sour, seeing as the lack of the kiss had been agonising enough.

“You... you kissed me.” A scowl slowly etched itself across the woman’s face as she spoke, and immediately Flint flashed her a confident little grin, his eyes alight with the same, lusty hunger. “You hardly seemed to mind.” He remarked with a small, throaty chuckle, her frustrated stare hardly dampening his fun. “And now you owe me a table and a window.” Flint tilted his head with her accusative lyrics, his eyes narrowing, though still clearly amused. He had little to no money to his name, and knew very well that repaying both items would be a struggle. He was good with his hands, so he could help repair the table, though the window would be... an interesting feat, to say the least. Perhaps, he could pay her back in another way? With the thought, Flint nearly grinned once more, though decided to focus firmly on her slowly softening expression, his eyes flitting from her lips to her eyes, wanting more, though knowing better.

“You kissed me...” All angry, criticizing tone had fluttered out of her words, and instead the woman spoke slowly, her tone enough to catch Flint off guard, causing his expression to shift, curiosity causing his brow to quirk, just slightly. The woman, of whom he had yet to learn the name of but was far too perplexed to remember to ask for such a thing, began to wiggle beneath him, freeing her hands from his weight without much problem, and successfully reminding him once more of their closeness. He was entirely unmoving as she wrapped both arms loosely around his neck, moving so slowly that Flint found himself become rather wary. “My turn.” With that, she leaned up to meet Flint’s lips once more, and he was certainly happy to oblige in kissing her back.

As soon as she seemed willing to go further a switch within the young man flipped, turning him rough; hungry. He pressed flesh up against her, his hands streaking down her lithe sides, as he kissed her back with as much passion and effort as he could muster. His body arched, bringing him closer to her, and he found his hands slowly beginning to creep down the sides of her thighs, encouraging her to wrap her legs around him. The feel of her exposed skin beneath his hand was enough to thrill and excite him, and as any young boy would, he felt himself become carried away in the absolute excitement of it all. He couldn’t attempt to tear himself away from her if he tried, and so he desperately hoped she didn’t intend to do so.

Who the hell is he anyway?
He never really talks much,
Never concerned with status but still leaving them star struck...

Words; 1, 111
Muse: ALRIGHT
Notes: Sorry again, if it fails. AND OMG LOOK AT THE WORD COUNT.[/blockquote][/blockquote][/size]

[Charity Hendricks]

He was like a ticking time bomb in her arms. Like he would explode any minute, perhaps any second, and this unfamiliar excitement intrigued and encouraged Charity to reach into depths of her own self she'd never before even seen a glimmer of. She found herself captivated, moving on instinct, little caution continuing throughout her moves. She felt almost positive in their animalistic ways that he would not have the self control to intentionally harm her, and she wasn't sure he would if he could. That was good thing right? Her mind fought to grasp the situation, but it was overwhelming. Being locked away had certainly had its downsides, and Charity was definitely cursing them now. Never before had she felt like this. So free, so wanted. She almost dared to say needed, but no man with an authority such as Flint needed a five foot three teenager.

Suddenly the kiss turned into more, shocking Charity with the ability it had to suck her into a thoughtless black hole. His what had once been gentle movements hardened, moved in instinctual ways that made her utterly nervous. Her heart leaped into her throat as his hands roamed freely, but she made no move to stop him. And the kiss, oh, the kiss, it never changed. It still consumed her mind and soul in a trench of wild colors and highs no one could imagine. Her movements were slower, and calculated, careful of what she did and didn't do. The last thing she wanted to do was upset a man on top of her who weighed as much as one and a half of herself. But he seemed he had little a care as her own hands slid down his back, nails dragging gently across his skin in that goosebump rising kind of way.

His own hands scoured her body, from shoulders to legs, and finally they relaxed on her thighs, the way his fingers tapped against her encouragement to do something. Confusion darted into her mind, worry spreading throughout her. She was so new to this, so uneducated when it came to what they were doing. What if she messed up? Tonight had been her first kiss, and apparently they were reaching many more milestones tonight as well. With a deep breath and a glance at Flint to make sure he wasn't concerned, so let her blue eyes flutter closed and instinct consume her. His intentions became clear, and Charity allowed him to place her where he wanted, sure resisting would only end in firm corrections. She slid her legs around him, pulling him close, and with a final huff of air, she relaxed, and quit thinking for once in her entire life.

--------------------------------------------------------------

The couch, she concluded, was way too small for the two of them. On aching legs she pulled Flint up with her and tugged him into the bedroom where she let him lay down first before she collapsed on the mattress near him. Every muscle ached in her body and a sore moan escaped her lips as she pulled to knit comforter up over her shoulder, a blanket she had made herself. She pressed her head into Flint's chest, blonde hair falling wild and free over the soft feather pillows and his muscled arm. How could she not feel completely comfortable around him after that? That indescribable closeness she felt privileged to of taken part in. She sighed against him, letting a hand fall on his chest, finger tips playing out a dance on top of him. ”Why do I have a feeling we're both going to regret that sometime in our lives?” She frowned. She'd enjoyed it, but it was true. She felt wary about it, wary about him. She hardly knew him, in fact, all she knew was his name.

Charity released a gentle yawn, but didn't allow herself to snuggle closer. If he wanted anything else to do with her, then he could prove it himself. She frowned, fearing the worst. She'd given her innocence to a man she'd met only hours before. Yet how did it feel so incredibly right? She shut out the thoughts briefly, a sigh brushing his chest as it exhaled from her lips. She sat up in the bed, leaning over him. ”Thank you, Flint.” She whispered the words as if they were precious. She lowered her lips to his, but this kiss was different. It wasn't hungry, or seductive. It wasn't rich with passion or dripping with venomous enticement. It was simple, small, almost endearing. She pulled back and laid down, rolling over so her back faced him, finishing her thanks. ”Thank you for saving my life. In more ways than one.” She doubted he would ever fully understand what she meant by that, and somehow she doubted that she ever would too. She reached behind herself and grasped one his hands, pulling it to rest on her shoulder, where she let her fingers intertwine into his easily.

It was only minutes later that her grip on his fingers loosened, though not yet fell,and her breaths began drawing in deeper. She moved very little, except for the rise and fall of her chest still showing she breathed. And with that, quietly and pleasantly, quite happy with her day, Charity Rose Hendricks fell asleep.

[Flint]

Flint


This is ten percent luck, twenty percent skill,
Fifteen percent concentrated power of will.
Five percent pleasure, fifty percent pain,
And a hundred percent reason to remember the name...

.xXx.

[/color] Excitement thrummed throughout the young man’s entire body with each beat of his accelerating heart, propelling him to go faster; go further. Each and every muscle within his frame pulled taut as anticipation for what was to come quickly devoured his mind, consuming his rational thoughts entirely, leaving nothing but a vague trace of what hesitation once lay there. He was acting from what seemed to be pure, utter instinct, and despite the fact that Flint had quite the amount of practice in the field, there were hardly women that had caught his eye in such a wild, vibrant way before. The young man had just met this deviously radiant stranger, and already, he was intrigued to the point of no return. His skin burned beneath the surface with her touch, and as the woman ran her fingers gingerly down his back, a shiver wracked Flint’s spine, causing him to shudder, leaning more solidly against her, longing for more. His heart pounded loudly within his ears, and all that the male could focus on was his newfound, raging need to be closer, to satisfy himself.

He kissed her with a very clear, obvious hunger; rough, yet passionate—aggressive, yet gentle. His body arched in order to pull himself closer to her, aiming successfully to locate himself between her legs, and when he did so, the man cursed himself mentally for the thick denim restraining him from being a part of her. His hands roamed devilishly down her sides, taking pleasure in the enticing feel of her exposed skin beneath his hands, and it was when he paused, palms hesitating, poised over her thighs, that the woman looked towards him, sending him an expression of which he could hardly understand in such a primal state of mind. He tore his lips away from her own, immediately cursing himself for doing such a thing, before quirking a brow, silently prodding as to why she’d stopped. His hands stayed firmly planted on her thighs, unwilling to move, as he awaited a sign from her, his head reeling with the possibility that she wanted to turn back. His insides seemed to burn in that moment of hesitation, but as soon as she wrapped her legs around the man, successfully fulfilling the contact he was aching so badly for, he knew he was in the clear. He dipped his head to kiss and nip lightly along the contours of her neck, before finally settling to kiss her yet again, his lust pushing him further each and every second.

---

Flint’s chest rose and fell to a much slower rhythm, as extreme fatigue seemed to roll over him, much like waves upon a beach. His arms were exhausted with extortion, and as the young man shifted into a sitting position, he became vitally aware of how sex could relax a person. He wasn’t one to be led around, ever, but when his new little friend tugged him up from his casual spot on the couch he was happy to follow, stalking after her into what seemed to be her bedroom, fingers loosely intertwined. As soon as they approached the bed, Flint collapsed onto it with a heaved sigh, letting his eyes drift closed as he did so. He was tired, yes, though his sudden laziness was more so a result of his overwhelming, sudden relaxation. Sex always released each and every ounce of tension within the boy’s body, and this—well, this had been no different. He made no move whatsoever to stop the woman as she laid down atop him, using his chest as a makeshift pillow, before tugging her blanket over the two of them. Now, understand something—usually, Flint wouldn’t be caught dead snuggling with a woman, especially after sex. No, generally he was the love ‘em and leave ‘em type, you know, who would stay for sex, then ramble off afterwards, refusing to be at all intimate with the woman after the fact.

This time, he wasn’t sure why, but it was... different. He didn’t want to leave. Now, ignoring the fact the thought scared the absolute living shit out of him, Flint was rather content to stay put.

“Why do I have a feeling we’re both going to regret that sometime in our lives?” The young man didn’t have to look at her, to know she was frowning. Immediately, a tired grin spread across his lips, and he turned his head to look at her, eyes roaming down what of her body wasn’t covered by the blanket. A throaty, deep little chuckle slipped past his plush lips then, and he reached one of his arms up to stretch, a newly-found, cheeky expression playing upon his features. “Well, I know I’ll never regret it.” He said with a dangerously charming smile, before he felt his partner shifting, pulling herself from her resting spot on his shoulder. He couldn’t help but to admire her as she sat up, and though his signature, cocky half-smirk was still playing across his lips, curiosity ignited within the back of his mind with the action. “Thank you, Flint.” Immediately, the man’s brows knit together, and as she flopped back down, turning so her back was towards him, confusion quickly became his dominant emotion. What was he being thanks for, exactly? If it was the sex, then Jesus Christ, she shouldn’t have to thank him. He was hardly doing her a favour. In fact, it was the other way around entirely.

“Thank you for saving my life. In more ways than one.” It was with these short, murmured words in which Flint shifted to be closer to her, and instead of keeping his fingers entwined gently with her own, his hand slipped around her waist, hugging her close to his warm frame. He sighed in doing so, knowing well he may pay for it later, though the man could hardly keep his hands off of her when in such close proximities with the ravishing woman—he’d dubbed it impossible since the moment she’d kissed him. “You’re welcome,” He said softly in return, once again not knowing what he was being thanked for, but feeling obligated to respond. It was, however, as he said this that her breathing seemed to grow heavy. Flint paused momentarily, before slowly beginning to sit up, a smirk tugging at his lips once he noticed that she was asleep.

And, despite the fact he hardly wanted to leave—that was his cue.

The man slipped his arm from around her slowly, carefully, only before proceeding to creep from the bed, being sure to move as smoothly as possible. He slipped past her bedroom door, sliding it closed behind him as he did so, before looking about the room in order to locate his clothing, his thought process seeming dramatically slowed, thanks to the lulling state sex seemed to have placed him in. After a moment, however, Flint successfully located the articles of clothing, and after tugging on his pants and slipping on his shirt, he made his way towards the front door, hesitating only as he made his way out the door, to cast his glance about the room. He had a certain, sneaking suspicion that, despite his usual routine, he’d be seeing more of this room then he’d bargained for.

Who the hell is he anyway?
He never really talks much,
Never concerned with status but still leaving them star struck...

Words: 1, 291
Muse: Meh
Notes: It probably fails, sorry. :c[/size][/blockquote][/blockquote]