Isabelle Lightwood (
seveninchmotto) wrote2016-05-06 03:37 pm
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The Apartment, New York, Friday
It was about time for Flick to return to Idris.
In fact, he was expected at a portal at the Institute in a matter of a couple of hours. Isabelle wasn't feeling very pleased with it, no matter how proud she was of everything he was doing at the Academy. She'd gotten all too used to him being at home over the break. Their bed was going to feel lonely and empty once he was gone again.
But it was morning, and she was out of bed all the same. Padding barefoot around the kitchen in a silk robe, she was making breakfast. Coffee, eggs and bacon, some pancakes with an interesting take on seasoning them. Flick was about to go back to Academy food, and Isabelle would be damned if she let him go without one last proper breakfast at home.
[ooc: NFB, for the guuuuy.]
In fact, he was expected at a portal at the Institute in a matter of a couple of hours. Isabelle wasn't feeling very pleased with it, no matter how proud she was of everything he was doing at the Academy. She'd gotten all too used to him being at home over the break. Their bed was going to feel lonely and empty once he was gone again.
But it was morning, and she was out of bed all the same. Padding barefoot around the kitchen in a silk robe, she was making breakfast. Coffee, eggs and bacon, some pancakes with an interesting take on seasoning them. Flick was about to go back to Academy food, and Isabelle would be damned if she let him go without one last proper breakfast at home.
[ooc: NFB, for the guuuuy.]
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"How's that feel?"
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Unsurprisingly, neither was really happening right now, beyond the very slight movement the cuffs allowed her.
She looked up. "Like I'm giving you a sizable chunk of control."
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The quickness with which she said that left little room for doubt. The glint in her eyes, too.
"I want to be at your mercy."
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"You are a dream come true," he murmured, grabbing the handcuffs and swinging them around a finger.
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Modesty continued to not be her thing. Smirking at him while anticipation was building up somewhere around her stomach was very much her thing, however.
"And if you do this right, it'll be your turn the next time you come home."
There was no way he wasn't doing this right.
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"Too tight, too loose?" he asked her.
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"No," she said, as she looked back at him. "Just right."
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Because sometimes she could at least pretend to be able take whatever he dished out. The muscles in her stomach jumped under his tongue.
"Then I'd break out of my restraints and deal with it myself."
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"And who do you think'll provide you with Marked restraints?"
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She let the breath go as a sigh. "So where do you think you'll get them?"
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