Night's Omen

"Ow," he said sharply, though not so much because it hurt, but to acknowledge the cat's 'affections'.  He then moved his foot, mindful of where the cat was, in the hopes that it would vacate his general vicinity for fear of getting kicked next time.  It didn't really work, considering this was Dante and not a normal cat, but he tried.  "Little monster."

Back to the conversation at hand, though.  "Eh, I guess I'll stay at the Hollow for awhile to figure things out and throw a few resumes out there.  Ash isn't all that well, so they could use the help up there.  From there, I guess we'll see what I can land in the job market," he explained, shrugging some.  "Reed's being a total ass, though.  I swear, he loves the pained groans he hears when he assigns some new nightmare."

"So long as he takes it easy on your thesis, it'll be fine," she reassured him with a wry grin, reaching her free hand across the table and tracing his veins idly with slender fingers, her touch featherweight and capable of sending shivers down his spine, given the right mood. Dante seemed to sulk off with a sort of reluctance, and snapped at Darren's heels once more before nimbly stalking off, presumably to amuse himself with some squeaky toy.

"Not a monster!" she protested, "He's the squeakiest-cleanest, cutest widdle munster everrr," she couldn't help the cooing around the darned cat! She finished off her cocktail, savoring its tartness in her mouth, then slipped the lime garnish in her mouth before circling around the island to Darren and his finished scampi with the platter of bread pudding. It neared four in the morning, and despite their meal, neither of them were quite tired yet.

Settling down in the stool next to him instead of across from him, she dangled her legs over the stool before setting them on his lap gently, letting out a rather girlish laugh, and spooned a bit of the bread pudding towards him.

"Honestly, I don't believe your prejudice against my poor animal."

'The right mood' was just about all the time, whether she knew it or not, but he'd let her figure that out.  She didn't need to know yet another way of getting to him, though she may have caught the reaction anyway.  He shot the cat an annoyed look to cover it up, though.  

"Prejudice!  Poor animal!" he gasped, looking appalled.  "What about me?  Aren't I your poor animal, too?  He bit first!"

Actually, Dante was the only one who bit.  Darren knew better, since he'd probably eat the little fiend if he ever bit.  He had a habit of scaring the thing out of whatever room he was in when he wandered the apartment in leopard form, though.  Maybe the cat was just getting back at him while he was in the 'less intimidating' human form.  Bah, whatever, that cat was a pain.  

"You know, the only reason he's clean is because I braved his claws and bathed him the last time he made a mess.  Remember, I told you about the flour incident?  You know what happens when flour gets wet in a cat's fur?  A certain boyfriend gets mauled trying to bathe it, that's what."  He had to grin at the memory of it, though.  Dante had, somehow, managed to not only knock the bag of flour off the counter and into the sink, but get himself wet and coated in the flour.  It made an almost doughy mess in the cat's fur.  Darren had been the first one home, so he'd cleaned up.

Her slender calves fidgeted slightly as she reached down to shoo Dante off, and as he stalked off, Mars turned her attention to his retelling of the flour incident and feigned a shocked expression.

"You don't say... He'll repay you someday for all your kindness," she murmured, tone utterly confident in her feline's sense of reciprocity, "You don't give him enough credit. But before he could respond, she silenced him with a spoonful of the sticky, warm bread pudding, heavily spiced and decorated with bits of cinnamon and warm raisins.

"Oops," she muttered as a stray bit of the cream sauce found its way onto his cheek, and she swiped it up in one clean stroke of her finger and licked it off absently.

He rolled his eyes at her teasing, since he didn't honestly believe the cat would ever return any such favors, but he didn't get the chance to say anything.  It was probably for the best, though.  He didn't need to argue with her about her cat, and the pudding was good.  

Really good, in fact.  Good enough that he didn't try anything tricky when she swiped the bit of cream from his face, though his eyes followed her every movement.  She was just too good of a tease.  "That was very good," he told her, being intentionally vague about whether he was talking about the pudding or her antics.  "Have anymore of it?"

"A lot more where that comes from," she replied smoothly, allowing the cream on her finger to be wiped by her tongue, allowing its roughness to linger for a while before she gave a chuckle and contented herself with the bread pudding and his cocktail for a bit, before a yawn couldn't help but escape her.

She writhed a little, stretching, "I've got this incredible kink in my lower back," she remarked offhandedly, meaning nothing behind it for once, "It was probably from that fight a few nights ago."

"Tease," he accused happily, watching her lick her finger and then proceed to help herself to his drink.  Really, it was fine with him.  He'd never been much of a drinker, and having smelled the alcohol all night meant that he really didn't mind if she drank some of his.  He was more interested in what he was seeing and hearing, anyway.  She may have meant nothing other than what she said, but he couldn't help guttering the statement.

"Yes, baby, I know you do," he answered, meaning both from the fight she mentioned, and in a slightly obscene manner.  "Want me to rub it out?"

Now, THAT offer wasn't really sexual in the least.  Sure, he enjoyed touching her and rubbing her back for her, and his thoughts would definitely stray during it, but he'd never minded trying to massage out tense muscles for her.  He'd never say that he was amazingly good at it, but he tried.

"Ehh, it can wait," she muttered back, relishing the taste mingling on her tongue, a pleasantly tart mixture of melon and lemon juice. Her response was a throwback to how careless she could be sometimes, and her tendency to overwork herself until her injuries proved too severe to continue for a few days, or extend longer into the healing period than she had originally intended. Either way, her unwillingness to have Darren sort out any of her booboos was a similar ego deal - she didn't want him to worry or see any of the suffering, so she almost never mentioned anything that was remotely serious.

Yawning just a slight bit, she glanced at the clock - nearing 4 AM. Their food done, Mars slid off the stool and gathered the dirty dishes to soak in the sink for tomorrow, then stifled another yawn before stealing another kiss from Darren.

"I'll brush my teeth. Take your time here; meet you back in the bedroom," she nipped some at his ear, very gently, and with a laugh sauntered into their bedroom, completing her bedroom routine before slipping under the satin sheets and goose down comforter. She doubted Darren wanted nookie - he had looked tired - though she was alright either way, figuring that if he made a move or any signal, they'd go for it. She wouldn't pressure him. As she crawled under the covers, feeling the coolness of the fabric caress her bare skin, she remembered with delight that he hadn't asked to examine her arm injury.