latino_menace | OOM: Christmas

Entry tags:

OOM: Christmas

It had taken three attempts to get Bar to open the door to where he wanted to go. Three times he looked out on a truly scummy bar filled with sweaty, running men and the sounds of choppers bearing down in the distance; Hell on the edge of a jungle.

Not where he wants to be right now.

On the fourth attempt - it's warm. Not hot, but pleasantly mild and the view is of a comfortably lived-in sitting room, with child's toys in a corner and overstuffed sofas and armchairs dotted around. The first thing his eyes rest upon is a glass still half full of Scotch; the second a stone block on the table, a sculpture with a woman's face looking out of one side. He pauses for a moment (so long since all that), then wanders in and puts his bag down, goes to the French windows to look over the garden that ends in beach and then, nothing but sea. Three thousand miles of sea standing between him and home.

But it's alright. It's nice to see the place again. He'd had mixed feelings the night before, wondering if it would be unpleasantly strange to have Fiona here. But it's not. He wants her to see it. For some reason, letting her see the places he lives is like letting her see himself. It's not even about showing off, this time. The house is not small but still modest by his standards. And it was a real home, for a while. Maybe he wants her to know that he can live normally, sometimes.

'Want a tour or do you want to head straight off? I just need to make a couple of calls before we go.'

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

She watches him focus on the road, watches that want play over his face, watches it move in his body.

"Madrid sounds good," she purrs. She's hungry for him all the time. It's only fair she shares the sentiment.

She sits back up a little, and fumbles with the seat control, tipping it back a little.

"Maybe I should nap a little? So I can spell you later?"

He looks over. Seeing her laying back like that...not helping.

'Go ahead. I should be alright though, as long as you let me get some sleep tonight.'

But he wont complain if she doesn't.

'I'll wake you up when we get there.'

She keeps a hand on him the whole way to Madrid, even in her sleep. It's something he's noticed. If he's close enough to touch, she's touching him.

She yawns and stretches when he wakes her up, looking up at the hills.

"Man, I always forget how much this looks like Los Angeles."

And most of the time, he enjoys it. Like now. (It's entirely probable that he's been touching her as well. What? It's a long drive.)

'Los Angeles is a shithole. Spain is beautiful.'

So there.

'There's nothing Americans can't ruin.

Sleep well?'

"Yeah," she gives him a sleepy smile, stretching her arms over her head.

"How far's the hotel?"

'You tell me.'

He pulls a phone from his pocket and hands it over.

'Search the address and put it into the GPS, would you? It's the Hilton. I think it's somewhere near the airport.'

Her stretching is given the appropriate appreciative glance. Of course. And maybe his hand wanders up to her chest.

She takes the phone from him, flipping it open and arching against his touch. Her thumbs fly over the keys, punching up their destination. She watches as it acquires their location.

"Ah, not far at all," she says, snapping the phone into the holder on the dash.

That done, she puts the seat up and reaches for one of the bottled waters.

"Are you going to let me drive at all? I hear the roads in the south of France can be a lot of fun."

'Why do you think I want to?'

He smirks and flicks the button on her pants with a finger.

'They are good, especially if you want us to detour and go through Monaco. Probably wont get where we're going until pretty late tomorrow though.'

But hell, they can do that if she likes. It's not like they dont have time to do what they want.

"Nah," she grins, looking a little girlish as she wiggles in the seat. Her hands close around his and bring his fingers to her mouth. "I kinda want to get you all alone, if you know what I mean."

She nips at his thumb, gently, letting him feel her teeth.

"Maybe on the way back, hmm?"

'Whatever you want.'

He's so glad she said that - he doesn't want to delay their arrival either. It's been bad enough waiting to get to this hotel and he's happy to see it up ahead.

'But you should be pleased enough with this place - we've got the Presidential suite and it's got a jacuzzi in it.'

He called ahead while she was sleeping.

She hums, a pleased little purr in the back of her throat.

"I like jacuzzis."

She wouldn't care if they were staying in a little stone cottage on the top of a cold Irish cliff over looking the sea. But it's nice that he thinks of these things.

'I know.'

He tugs his thumb a little - not enough to actually dislodge it from her grip - and adds;

'Unless you want me to walk into the lobby with a hard-on, you'd better give me that back.'

He's turning into the parking lot and pulls up behind four or five other cars that are waiting for the valets to come park their cars.

She gives up his hand, letting his fingers slip through hers, smirking at him. She thinks there are worse fates, and gives him a cheeky little wink.

"What name are you using here?"

He would agree there are worse fates but still, is willing to wait until the elevator at least before letting her get to him properly.

'Tomas Alvirez. I'm not anticipating any trouble - as far as Interpol are concerned, I'm in Panama right now.'

Which doesn't mean he wants to be pulled in as a convincing double, obviously. His DNA matching their file would be pretty awkward.

The engine is killed as he's at the front of the line now. When the valet comes to the door, he gives him a hundred Euros and tells him to get their bags taken up; then pulls a fake passport and a wad of cash from the glove box.

'Let's go.'

"Mmm, sí Señor Alvirez. Right away," she drawls, bouncing out of the door, grinning like a mad woman.

She joins him, looping her hand through his arm.

"Shall I be Señora Alvirez then?" There's nothing but a light tease in her voice. It's the way these things are done, usually.

He shrugs, unconcerned.

'Sure.'

Then he turns to her with a wicked look in his eye.

'Unless you just want me to introduce you as my mistress. It's always fun to see them carefully show no expression whatsoever.'

The lobby of this place is nice. He's more concerned with getting the formalites over with though.

"Ooh, I like that too." She waggles her eyebrows, leaning against him.

He handled the paperwork at the border into Spain. She trusts he knows what he's about. She does 'oo' a little under her breath, taking in the scenery. This is a step up for herafter all.

"The last time I was in Madrid, we were sleeping in the backs of the trucks."

He snorts a laugh, then nods at the concierge and hands his documents over.

'Almirez. We have a suite booked.'

Then turns to Fiona and says;

'I think we can do a bit better this time around.'

The service is impeccable, of course. It always is, even if you're not staying in the Presidential suite. Ramon nods his thanks at being handed the keys, signs the relevant paperwork and before heading to the elevator, tells the man;

'If my wife calls, tell her I'm out.' There is a speculative look at Fiona. 'Or busy.'

'...of course, sir.'

He laughs and heads for the lift, keeping Fi's hand in his.

"Ooo, baby," she drawls, laughing as he tugs her along with him.

The moment the elevator doors close, she's pushing him back against the back wall, hard. Her nails drag down his chest.

"You know, the mistress always gets to act like a brat, doesn't she?"

He smirks down at her, eyes narrowing in pleasure at the feel of her nails.

'The mistress gets to do whatever the hell she wants,' he takes her face in his hands, kissing her lightly, 'as long as she brings the good stuff to the bedroom.'

The elevator attendant averts his eyes as Ramon winks at him over her shoulder.

'Don't look so worried, kid. She wont tie you up and get the whips out unless you buy her diamonds.'

No reply and Ramon laughs and goes back to kissing Fi.

She laughs into his mouth, kissing him soundly, dragging her fingers through his hair.

"Hey!" She murmurs, grinning. "You didn't tell me I was supposed to pack the handcuffs."

'Didn't need to.'

A tip for the elevator kid and he's pulling her out into their private hallway and shoving his key card into the door.

'I packed them.'

He looks smug as hell as he holds the door open for her.

'After you.'

She beams at him, walking backwards into the room, spinning on her heels. The room is lavish, of course. Fresh flowers on the side board and a bottle of champagne chilling beside them.

She pulls out the bottle and grabs the glasses, turning back to him with a grin.

"Which way to the jacuzzi?"

He likes her style. Cut to the chase, that's fine with him. So he grins and goes in search of the bathroom.

'Through here.'

His jacket hits the floor and he kicks off his shoes.

'Might order a massage, I'm stiff from driving.'

But first, water in. And then champagne. And then her.

She sets the champagne down on the counter and strips out of her dress.

"I can give you a massage, if you like." She chuckles, low in her throat, bumping him with her hip as she gets the bottle open. "No, that wouldn't work would it. You should get a masseuse for us both."

She pours two glasses and hands him one.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject