seveninchmotto | The Apartment, New York, Friday

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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.]

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Isabelle sighed and smiled at him, stretching out some under his touch. "True," she agreed. "If you were just watching me, I'd give it an hour. But with dirty talk, there's no telling. Because I love it when your mouth gets dirty."

"You love it and you hate it," he said and bent his head, sliding his tongue across the nipple he'd just been paying attention to. "Because you love hearing it but you'd hate it if that's all I did. Getting you hot and bothered without any pay off."

"It'd be pretty uncomfortable," she allowed, licking her bottom lip. "Getting all wet and aching with no way to do anything about it. But I'd trust you to make it worth it in the end."

"And what would you do if I didn't?" Flick asked, moving his tongue down her body until he got to her navel and licked around it. "What would you do if I did just leave you here, wet and squirming? If you couldn't do anything but shift around, trying to find something to rut against because I refused to help you out?"

"I'd give you a little while to see the error of your ways."

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."

"One day, I'll be able to get some restraints that you can't break out of," Flick said, tiptoeing his fingers down her thigh and between her legs, just rubbing lightly up and down. "Then, we'll really have fun."

Isabelle couldn't help a tiny noise of anticipation. It was more fun to let it out than to try and suppress it.

"And who do you think'll provide you with Marked restraints?"

"No one will provide me with them, I'll get them myself," he told her, confidence lacing his tongue. He slid one finger inside of her, curling slowly. "I won't have to ask for a favor."

Isabelle found herself holding her breath for a moment. Had to just focus on the feeling, the inkling of what was to come later.

She let the breath go as a sigh. "So where do you think you'll get them?"

"From the sex store that I'm sure exists somewhere in Idris," Flick joked, pulling his finger out to tease her again before he slid it back in, deeper this time. "Shadowhunters can't all be prudes."

Isabelle managed a little laugh, though another little sound of pleasure made it out in the middle of it.

"Oh but we are. In public. We're very conservative."

"But there has to be sex happening so you have to have something," Flick said, stilling his finger inside of her. He just left it there, curling and twisting ever so slightly.

She held his gaze, biting her lip.

"But nothing as public as a sex store," she said. "What people use in the privacy of their homes, I don't know."

"Someone should open one up," he said and very nonchalantly added a second finger, crooking them in that oh so enjoyable gesture she loved so much.

"Mmmh.."

Isabell let her eyes close and her head tip back as she shifted her hips to get more of his fingers. Still wasn't going to let that one go without a quip.

"Sounds like we know what you should do if you get an injury that keeps you from active duty."

"You think it would be allowed?" Flick asked, pulling his fingers out so he could brush the pad of his fingers across her clit in quick succession.

"Fuck," Isabelle murmured, instinctively pushing her hips up a little. "I'd love to see you try."

"I should start with asking your dad, huh?" Flick joked, rubbing his finger back ad forth over her clit, alternating between firm and soft, harsh and light. "That'd be a great conversation."

Yeah, that had Isabelle trying to pull her hips away from his ministrations. Unsuccessfully, but still. She made a face.

"Please, no talking about my father while you're doing that."

Flick laughed and reached to hold her hips still.

"You don't move," he said, shaking his head. "I'll do what I want and talk about who I want."

He pinched her clit, giving it a slight twist as he did.

She yelped, but still managed to get out what she wanted to say. "Sure, if you want me to lose whatever hard-on I have."

Metaphorically speaking.

"I seriously doubt that's going to happen," he told her confidently. He dipped his head down and replaced his fingers with a few quick flicks of his tongue. "I'm not at all worried."

"Just don't talk about my dad again."

She was serious.

Also letting her head tip back again.

Flick had the split second urge to say something about her father but he saw her face and pulled it back. He'd behave this time around.

"You don't even look like you're having fun," Flick pointed out

Isabelle opened her eyes and peered back down at him. "Could that have something to do with what I just said?" she asked, rhetorically.

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