[Ami] (Day 10: Late Night) After the Festivities (tag Scott)

[fikgirl.livejournal.com]

After the girls' party wound down, Ami quite literally wove her way back to the teepee. She insisted that she hadn't needed any help, but considering that she hadn't managed to stumble three meters before tripping and weaving, she wound up with Faith as an escort. The other woman explained that her own tent was in that direction, and that she wanted to be certain that Ami didn't stumble into the fire or the ocean.

"I'm not that pissed!" Ami had protested, jerking away and promptly landing on her bum.

She hadn't argued with Faith's accompaniment after that.

They parted ways at the teepee, Faith giving Ami a teasing wink, "Don't do anything I wouldn't do!"

Ami managed to summon enough of her dignity to give Faith a friendly one finger salute, which sent the brazen woman away in laughter, and then she crawled into the teepee where Scott was stretched out on his back, shirtless and likely completely starkers beneath the thin blanket and absolutely yummy looking. She wasn't so completely drunk that she didn't appreciate her man. . . particularly when he was naked, half-asleep and so completely ripe for being caught unawares.

She tried to shed her clothes quietly, but the intoxication hindered that. Her arms got caught in her t-shirt and she toppled over when she attempted to step out of her knickers. Somehow Scott slept through it all, stirring only a little when Ami slid her body beneath the blanket and rolled over, covering his body with hers.

/Missing the opportunity of a lifetime,/ Ami lowered her mouth and began to kiss his neck, rocking her hips suggestively against him. /I'm totally pissed, you can completely have your way with me./

/Mmm, really?/ Scott didn't 'sound' all that tired as he grabbed her ass and squeezed.

/Knew you were awake./ She moved down his body, slipping her hands between them, drifting lower to cup and stroke him.

Scott moaned appreciatively, his body responding on several different levels. Encouraged, Ami giggled and continued her kissing and stroking, wiggling her body between his legs. She rested her head on his abdomen, fingers teasing and tried and failed to stifle a yawn. Her eyes drifted closed, the rhythm of her fingers becoming irratic and irregular and then … stopping as she promptly fell asleep.

Comments

[sophiedb.livejournal.com]

ROTFL! Nissed as a pewt :)

"I'm not as thunk as you drink I am.. *hic*"

[Scott] Getting lucky (tag Ami)

[starborn-scribe.livejournal.com]

Ami was drunk off of her cute little ass. So much so that Scott started feeling tipsy about an hour after the women retreated to their giggle-fest. The last thing he needed was to do or say something stupid in front of the men gathered around the cookfire, so he narrowed his link with Ami experimentally. He was relieved to feel the alcohol buzz fade considerably.

Scott spent the rest of the evening chatting with Blaise, Tommy, Bill, Locke, Emerson, Ash, Pierson, and Damon. Blaise was a surprisingly good guy for a soldier, and Damon surprisingly wasn't a dick. Why Ami was friends with the redhead was somewhat less of a mystery.

After a few hours the girls' party reached a rather raucous peak. Scott said goodnight to the men shortly thereafter. He was looking forward to seeing an inebriated Ami and half expecting to have to carry her back to the shelter.

Scott waited patiently in the shelter for Ami to return. Leaving their link wide open, he lie under the light blanket, comfortable and nicely buzzed. Even without their connection, Ami's giggling approach was obvious. Faith's voice carried through the tepee's walls. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do!"

It took quite a bit of self-control to keep from laughing and to play possum while Ami attempted to disrobe. Eventually she succeeded, then slipped under the blanked and on top of him. Ami immediately set to work seducing him, informing Scott of the marvelous opportunity her drunkenness presented.

/Mmm, really?/ he responded, grabbing her ass.

/Knew you were awake,/ Ami thought smugly, proceeding to tease him in earnest. Scott happily played the role of boy toy... until Ami fell asleep on his stomach!

Scott propped himself up on his elbows, frowning at his now passed-out love. After a moment his annoyance gave way to amusement. "Oh, I don't think so, my dear," he told her, pulling Ami up to lie beside him. She murmured something incoherent. Chuckling, Scott pulled his sphere to his hand. Its pale blue light cast strange shadows on Ami's face as Scott coaxed her liver to work faster.

After a few minutes Ami's eyes fluttered open. Scott dropped his connection with his sphere, set it aside, and turned his attention to Ami. He scooted down the mat until his head was level with Ami's breasts. /Time to finish what you started, love,/ he told her, tracing her nipple with his tongue.

[George] After the Festivities (tag Carlos)

[sinanju.livejournal.com]

George watched Ami and Faith wander away into the darkness, then turned her eyes back to her own path. The party had been a lot of fun. George had enjoyed Ami's drunk vicariously. It would have been more fun to get hammered herself, but only the real lightweights had gotten drunk on the small quantity of booze available. George's undead metabolism meant that it took a determined effort--and a great deal of alcohol--to get drunk. A cup of wine and an even smaller taste of moonshine wasn't going to do it.

George was still completely sober. On the other hand, all the talk of sex had aroused her. She moved a little faster, eager to get her hands--and other things--on Carlos. And vice versa.

For a girl who'd never managed to get laid before she died and had only scored once in the two years after her death before tumbling into bed with Carlos, she spent an awful lot of time having sex these days--and thinking about it much of the rest of the time.

George reached the shelter she shared with Carlos. She ducked into it, and found Carlos asleep inside as she'd expected. His breathing changed slightly though he didn't wake. George was sure that on some level he was aware that he was no longer alone--and also that she was no threat.

George undressed quietly and with as little movement as possible. It was a small shelter. When her clothes had been carefully set aside and she was kneeling beside Carlos, George shivered a little thinking about what Carlos could do to her.

Then she pounced on him with a shout. Somehow, in the brief struggle, George ended up on her back with Carlos looming over her, holding her wrists over her head with one hand. His other hand, which had been drawn back for a strike, instead drifted down to fondle her breast.

"What have we here?" Carlos asked. "A naked pretty girl attacking me in my own home. Tsk tsk. What do you have to say for yourself, pretty naked girl?"

George said, "Are you the Keymaster?"

"Yes..." Carlos said. His happily lecherous grin promised untold pleasures. His free hand drifted down George's body, sliding across her belly, then lower. George groaned and arched her back at his touch. "Are you the Gatekeeper?" he asked.

George wasn't able to speak for a moment. Carlos' fingers were magical. When she could breathe again, she said, "Y-yes. I am."

"So what do you have to say for yourself, Gatekeeper?" Carlos demanded.

George put her arms around his neck and pulled him almost close enouogh for a kiss. "I say, take me now, sub-creature."

[Ripley] A taste of wine....(tag Methos, open)

[hybrid-ripley.livejournal.com]

Ripley was drunk again, and this time there was no Ash to look after her. Silent except for the occasional snicker, she wandered her way around the camp, heading vaguely infirmarywards. She had half her share of wine in the plastic bottle in her hand, and she was still buzzed. /I like being a cheap date! It's fun!/

Methos hadn't come and grabbed her, which made her wonder whether the fistfight he'd had to patch up that afternoon hadn't seen either a redux or some complications. /Himself spends entirely too much time babysitting the normies, in my not so humble opinion. Ah well./

As it turned out, he and House were having another "discussion" about his use of plant-based cures. Something about lawn clippings from House's side, and nonchalant snark about how House must be expecting an airdrop from Doctors Without Borders from Himself.

House's back was to the trees that the infirmary was tied to on one side, so Ripley popped up behind him and considered him silently for a few moments while the argument went on, in full view of Methos. She leaned up behind him, smirked at his rantings, drummed her fingers against a tree--and vanished into the brush when he sensed something and turned around. Ten seconds later, she was at it again.

"All right, fine," House growled finally. "But if you find coca leaves up on that mountain side, don't bring them back! Charlie's already courting Darwin around me as it is."

"Charlie courts Darwin around everyone," Ripley said six inches from House's back. He did a little jig of shock, and she grabbed his arm so his leg didn't give out, chuckling.

[Doctor/Rose] Figuring it out

[purplerhino.livejournal.com]

Some short time after his exchange with Adam Pierson, and reminiscing on simpler times, The Doctor pulled out his portable viewer. The Doctor had been examining the still capture of Mara’s gift/message for a long time, off and on, working out the puzzle it presented. It was a message… and from the Tardis, no less.

He traced the golden and green tendrils, trying to see a pattern. The tendrils of energy seemed to break off, like smoke, between all the faces in the painting, except for the glowing traces surrounding him, and rose, which linked with the central image of Susan. Susan’s eyes started at him, a teasing, dare. Her intelligence and curiosity somehow perfectly captured. Those dark brown orbs were so very like Rose’s.

He almost dropped the viewer. He brought it closer, tracing his finger across the screen. Tilt of the head, the trace of jaw line.

Impossible. Wasn’t it?

He heard Rose approaching. She was humming to herself as she crawled into the lean-to and flopped onto the comforter-come-featherbed. She rolled onto her side and stretched out beside him.

“Whatcha doin?” Her smile was teasing. He could smell the wine, and something a bit stronger on her breath.

“Are you drunk?” He covered the fact that his world had just been sent slightly further askew than usual.

“Nope. One glass of wine, and a half glass of something terrible, but pretty strong. I’m not stone sober, but I’m not quite drunk either.” She propped her head up on her hand.

“So you had fun with your female bonding ritual?”

She laughed. “You sound like one of those documentaries. Studying the primitive tribes of the rainforest or somthin’.”

He arched a brow.

“Okay, you’re telling me you and Jack getting pissed at that bar on… Tibolt’s moon… that wasn’t a male bonding ritual? Complete with pissing contest and one upmanship stories.” Rose did that thing, with the tip of her tongue between her teeth. It was always mildly distracting. Just a touch, not enough to derail his train of thought, but noticeable.

“Of course it was. Otherwise I wouldn’t have allowed myself to get drunk. Had to establish clear dominance. After all, he’s human, and you lot seem to appreciate that sort of thing.” He tried not to think of Jack’s face in the painting.

“Dominance?” Her voice took on that low, husky note. “Think Jack might have liked that a bit too much.”

“He did seem to be enjoy beein’ shown up. But then, he had experience takin’ orders.” He deliberately misinterpreted her tease.

She stifled a yawn and dropped her head to her pillow. “G’night, Doctor.”

“Night.” He could do with some sleep, himself. Two three hours. He wasn’t on watch till later, anyway. If his thoughts would let him sleep

They did. But instead of being chased by nightmares, his sleep was chased by images so far into domestic he would have cringed if there wasn’t a thrill of adventure to it.