#c: rosesonbreeze

[ohdarling-xo]

FOR @rosesonbreeze

---------------

All right. 10-year high school reunion. Gavin can admit it: Not the place he wants to be.

Sure, he's rich and successful now, he tours the world, he's literally been on TV, there's over a million people who check in every time he posts a photo or video online, but that doesn't mean he wants to be reminded of the dork he was in high school.

Back then you'd still needed a diagnosis for hormones, and god knows there were a generous number of assholes at his high school who were not about to let that one go. As in he'd literally spent his entire high school career dealing with snide comments about how he was mentally ill, which, hey, yeah, but rude, nonetheless.

It wasn't even that which was bothering him the most, though. He didn't care if he had to see some normie weirdo from high school at this thing; he just didn't want to think about the person he'd been in high school.

He'd been so tiny, meek and depressed. He'd let people walk all over him because he didn't give a fuck, dating anyone who asked, hanging out with anyone who stuck it out, trying whatever fucked up substance someone put in his hands.

He was a weak-willed loser, so terrified of the way he stood out that he'd have done anything to keep from standing out more.

The only reason he'd even agreed to waste his evening at this thing was because his high school bestie had begged him to come, and then she'd bailed at the last second because she "is a doctor now" and she "has to deliver this baby!"

That bitch.

But Gavin's stuck in the boring suburb he grew up in for the rest of the week now with literally nothing else to do but go drink with old pervs who used to work with his dad or whatever, so he ends up at the reunion.

He gets through the door, slaps on a name tag, and then makes a beeline for the buffet to scope out the food and booze situation, because the chance of him doing any of this without something tasty to eat is literally zero.

[jetaiimee]

@rosesonbreeze liked for a starter from harvey specter.

Harvey leaned back in his chair, clearly irritated as he looked up at her as she entered his sleek office. "You're distracting me," he said, his voice smooth but tinged with annoyance. "I’ve got work to do, and the last thing I need is a distraction right now." He paused, his gaze never leaving hers. "But of course, you don’t care about that, do you?" He sighed, shaking his head. "I can’t make an exception, even for you." Despite the words, there was a glimmer of something in his eyes—a mix of frustration and the undeniable effect she had on him.

[jetaiimee]

The way Henry gives in to her makes her question whether she was asking him this at the right moment. He was weak, not his usual confident self. Or maybe this was the man he really was, the one she hadn't met before - until now? "Henry," Freya sighs, a palm pressing against his chest as he pulled her closer. "We shouldn't rush into anything. However I'm not saying we should think about it." Her chin dropped lower as she meets his eyes, a desperate look in them.

"Words can only get you so far," she stated, knowing all too well how men could promise her the world, but when it all came down to it, they failed and left her in pieces. Shivers ran down her spine as Henry's hand brushed against her back, her palm dropping lower as their bodies leaned against each others.

"Show me how badly you want it," Freya demanded, a challenging and alluring look upon her face. Stepping backwards, she kept her eye on him until she reached the bed, pushing herself back onto it.

"Or half-assed." It may have worked on his previous hook-ups. Henry had a long leash as a rich, aristocratic entrepreneur. He could get away with abhorrent dating behavior, so long as he could foot his bill and send over selections from Net-A-Porter. But Freya is different. Whether it's because of how he feels about her, or what she's willing to put up with, remains to be seen. "I don't want to commit such an injustice." Not when the only other option is losing Freya, for good.

"And what you want... Is me." Henry answers, after a prolonged beat. Desperate hands against her waist, ushering Freya close. In all this time, he'd yet to kiss her, and he couldn't have a conversation about their future until he did. His lips finds hers, longing and desperate. Like a man in the abyss, at his first taste of sunlight. "Babe, I want you." He says into her mouth, a hand snaking along her smooth neck, a thumb pressed on her Adam's apple.

"If what you want is for me to humble myself in front of you. To promise I will never let you down..." Henry has to chuckle against her jawline, peppering kisses along her smooth skin. "I'll do it." He promises, a warm hand pressed along her bare back. "The question is - would you say yes to this? To me?"

[jetaiimee]

Greg knew they were about to cross a line tonight, and there would be now way back to simply being colleagues. Their connection was way more than that, something deeper - with meaning. It had been a while since Greg had been in a somewhat serious relationship, he found it way easier to stay single with his demanding job. He never predicted someone like Andrea would stumle into his life; yet here he was, in a foreign country, getting lost in her sensuality.

"I won't," he simply replied to her cheeky comment, grinning down at her as Andrea's hands tugged at her skirt. She wasn't hiding anything now, her intentions clear as she pulled him closer. "You should give me a moment to admire though. The view is great," Greg chukled, biting down on his lower lip for a moment as his eyes took in her figure. Lifting his hand, he placed it on her neck, urging her closer to give her full lips another kiss. There was nothing rushed about it this time; he was planning on taking his time.

"Come," he said and took her hand, guiding her back inside. Taking a seat on the edge of his bed, he allowed his hands to trail up the backsides of her thighs, all while his eyes were locked with hers. He could barely remember what she looked like that night, only knowing his lust for her had been strong ever since. She was more beautiful than he could ever imagine. "You're beautiful."

Her cheeks are pink, flush with the startling way he looks at her. She's always known about Greg; his danger, his cheekiness, his way with people. But it's not until she looks back at him that she realizes this new side of him. The one that sees her so clearly, Andrea is almost shy when he pulls her back in. "It's new for me, too." For her, and the laundry list of nepo baby ex-boyfriends. Eager to please, but never much more than the sum of their parts. Andrea moans eagerly into his mouth, fingertips coursing through his black hair. A way of saying everything she couldn't.

"Don't lose your nerve now, Greg." She muses with a shake of her head. If this is uncharted territory for them both, then all they can do is sink into it together. Her dark eyes glaze down his chest, biting down her lip eagerly. She's been a brat about her own pleasure since they first found each other. What's the point in hiding it now? She's the first to move with certainty, undoing the zip of her skirt and pulling it down her hips. "I'm dying for you to touch me." She has since they first landed in L.A. Her hands travel down his chest, gripping the buckle of his pants. Pulling him closer against her eager body, a leg wrapped around his waist.

[jetaiimee]

A slight chuckle escaped Greg's lips, finding her incredibly funny and different from any of the other girls he usually went after. "Did you, though?" He questioned, genuinely curious to hear if she was down for it. Another chuckle, more growlish, as she pointed out the fact that his erection was more than noticable, his lust for her evident. As she took a seat in Greg's lap again, he automatically wraps his arm around her waist to keep her steady. Watching her closely, eyes locked with hers, he willingly met her lips and accepted her offering. She tasted sweet and her lips felt nice against his. Even though he was high as a kite, he took note of how she felt, what her lips tasted like and how she pressed against his needy cock.

Greg's hands couldn't stay put; he began exploring her curves, his fingers grazing over her exposed thigh and his hips bucked up against her as her weight was on top of him. "Sorry, I'm really fucking horny. I blame the drugs," he chuckled into her ear, words merging into a groan.

Breathe still shallow as she pulls away from him, Andrea lifts a brow in challenge. Was this an innocent invitation? Or a way to ask for more - reciprocity, passion, the works. "Everyone's going to think I went in here to fuck a VP." She reminds him, though the irony isn't lost on her. If people thought that, it's because it was almost true. Almost. Greg's want is still present in between his legs, and she stays just long enough to see a new bag of pills emerge. "What else do you have in your pants?" She mocks with a sly smile, unmoved from her position. Caught between leaving Greg wanting more, and playing with fire until one of them is burned.

"I already feel really fucking good." She lauds, building him up appreciatively. Men in finance weren't renowned for their abilities to satisfy. But Greg surprises even her, and finally, she steps forward. She takes the bag of pills from him, electing to put one in the back of her throat and swallowing. "Open." She commands gently, taking another pill and sitting back on his lap. The warmth of her heat against his arousal, delving her lips against his. Her tongue massaging his own, sliding the ecstasy into his mouth.

[jetaiimee]

This was perhaps the first time Freya had been with a man like Henry. Someone filthy rich and determined to get what he wants. Freya knew she should be cautious; if he was treating her like this, who else did he treat likewise? But the thought of his actions actually being genuine made Freya curious - what if there was a simple way out? Marry rich?

Normally, she would kick her heels off the second she entered her room, but she was vain, and willing to put on a show for Henry. He was clearly a visual guy, judging by all the compliments about her complexion he'd showered her with. Watching him as he takes a seat, she lets him pull her closer and touch her in a way that is highly unprofessional. Her heart races, dying to give in to his seductive ways.

She tries to figure out if Henry wants total submission, or if he enjoyes the push-and-pull between them. Freya could totally do both, and with his hands creeping up her skirt, she was eager to let him steer the way. "I'll give you a tentative yes," she answered softly, her eyes locked with his as she begs for his hands to trail further.

She then remembers how her pretty priviledge is supposed to work for her, and figures she has to make herself memorable. Her dream is to become a succesful model, after all. Taking a few steps backwards, her back almost propped up against the wall, she unzips the zipper in the side of her dress. The heavy fabric falls to the floor, pooling around her high heels. She's posing for him; in a very modelesque way, sensual, sultry, sexy - but not in a sexual and degrading way. She's powerful, confident and feminine.

"You've been undressing me with your eyes for days on end now. Do I live up to your expectations?"

She walks like it's her personal mission to madden a man. A cross between a goddess and a boss, asserting some power with every step on glass floor. But Henry is named after the Conqueror for a reason. He takes - sometimes temperamentally. "Show me where, then." He suggests, voice low and excitement get to a minimum. Hands in his pockets, he chews his inner lip to keep from smirking. Freya may be playing games, but he suspects she didn't know his adamance to win. Following her into the elevator, he circles around Freya. Taking in her sultry features in the bright light of the elevator, eager to touch.

Henry follows her into her room - a standard room, with a subpar view. Women like Freya were meant to be undressed in front of grand windows, sipping on Dom and sore from a night of activity. "First of all, you're one of my bankers. Not an employee." Unbuttoning the buttons of his jacket, he tosses it onto the chair. Taking a seat at the edge of her bed, making good on his lack of professionalism. "Second of all... I never asked you here on a professional capacity."

He extends his arm, brushing his fingers along her arm before wrapping it against her dainty wrist. Pulling her closer, until she's towering over him. "Tell me to bugger off, and I'll make good on that." But his hands drop to those long legs, fingers skirting the sides of her legs, brushing just up her skirt. "Say no, Freya." He dares. "Or better yet - say yes."

[jetaiimee]

Greg leaned against the table, hands holding on to the edge as he watched Andrea set up the room for them. He could handle a small amount of snow tonight, it could even make him feel less stressed about the big meeting tomorrow. Following her with his eyes as she came closer, he couldn't help but smile.

"Meaning?" He simply questioned, brows raised up at her. "My move has already been made, hasn't it? I guess the question you're really asking is," his head tilted to the side, his hand reaching out to rest on her hip. "Have you crossed my mind since that night?" It was a question that barely needed an answer; it was evident. The way he had been looking at her without realizing, how his mind had flashed back to that evening over and over again. He was hesitant to reach out however, afraid it would come across as unprofessional.

"I'm well-behaved. You might not look at me like I am, but trust me, I'm as innocent as they come." Greg's free hand reached into his pocket, getting his wallet out and fishing for the tiny bag of white powder he'd saved for a rainy day. "It's not much, but it's enough."

"That's all I ask." She relents, hand raised in mock surrender. In truth, it's never all she wants. If Andrea could sink her teeth into him and have everything, she would. His clients, his success, and dangerously even his heart. And why couldn't she have it? Who else would treat Greg so well? "I promise, I'll have you back and plugging away." A loose promise; she knows that when he wants to, he doesn't just bend. He breaks the conventions.

Andrea feels her cheeks color at the squeeze of her thigh. Fortunately, she's flushed as it is, and it blends into her liquored state. Walking in front of him, Andrea takes a final glance out the floor. Not even a pin drop. "The student's become the master." She answers coyly, reaching for the shutters to cover up the glass windows. When she's done, she circles back around Greg. A thought gnawing at her mind, even as she plays it cool.

"Why am I the one coming to you?" Andrea asks him challengingly, breaking the silence on that night. "I thought you'd be the one to make the first move." Gender norms aside, isn't that their very dynamic? Greg as the more seasoned man, Pierpoint VP, and rebel of the two of them? "Or at least, ask me to return the favor..." She reminds, close to him now.

[evcrlasting]

Well, she knew Maddox was smart. It had taken a lot of effort to come up with a plan that Vera could pull over his eyes without Maddox finding out. Of course, she was pretty happy with how far she had gotten before this moment. Maddox, a few steps short of begging on his knees for her. Still she hadn't expected he'd pick it up before she could fully pull the rug from underneath him. She had never been the vengeful type, walking away was much easier but she couldn't. He didn't realize it yet, but Maddox had a hold on her. She hated it. The way he held her heart. Arms crossed as she shrugged. His question stopping her. The pain in his voice was clear. She almost felt bad. If she were honest, she did feel bad. Hurting him had been the point but to see it in front of her eyes was completely different.

She considered lying. Decided against it. "I can't trust you." She glanced through the window before looking back to him. "Look, I'm used to guys like you, Maddox, and I have no plans going back." Vera turned back, giving him a weak smile. "You think it's different this time but what if it's not?" She didn't want to be another one of his victims. Couldn't risk it.

OPEN: M/F/NB, 25+ PLOT: Sort of inspired by “John Tucker Must Die.” Your muse has made it their mission to teach Maddox the error of his lying, playboy ways by making him fall in love only to cut him off at the knees. Honestly, down for this to go the angsty route (your muse regrets it) or toxic (your muse regrets nothing and double’s down). MUSE: Maddox Montgomery, 29, He/Him, Investment Banker and the most classic of fuck boys. Party boy, posh, privileged, and a piece of shit.

“I know I’m not one to talk. I’m a prick.” A deflated breath catches in the winter fog, as they stand beneath a lamp post outside of the pub. They should be back inside; singing, dancing, being merry like the holiday suggests. But once Maddox caught onto their game, how they intricately ensnared him a web of lies… There was no going backwards. No matter how much he wanted to pull the wool over his eyes, and remain in the haze. “I lied, all the time. Made false promises. Strung people along. I cheated and I played… And I never said sorry.” What did it say about him, that he didn’t lose a moment’s sleep about it until he met them? But there they stood, unyielding and a farce. Were they his lesson?

“But I never did that with you.” No, Maddox grew up. He ditched his rotation of hook ups, cleaned up his act, got home at a reasonable time. It was a transformation, one he believed was driven by love. Instead, it was a game… His throat bobbing, he hears himself ask “Why don’t you love me, anyway?”

[jetaiimee]

Freya's genuine soft laughter fills the air between them, accepting Henry's attempt of trying to ignore her point by being witty. "I could very easily be," she countered, her manicured fingers toying with the collar of his crisp white shirt. "But we both know I won't settle for something ordinary, so.." Henry was no such thing; he was as extraordinary as humanly possible. She noticed how his eyes wandered down to her chest, and a warm feeling spread through her body. His desire for her was clear - just like she wanted it to be. She wanted to be adored, devoted, worshipped.

"Yes - commitment," she repeated, tilting his chin back up to tear his gaze away from her cleavage. "If this was just another fling, would I really come all the way up here to care for your well-being? What if it was the other way around?" Freya inhaled softly and tossed some of her blonde hair off her bare shoulder.

"I don't think it's a question of what I want - the question is; are you ready for it? Because I know what I want, and I work hard for it."

"No, no. Of course not." He's quick to correct, gentle even when his words carry such conviction. "Freya, what I'm saying is; you not only have your earned-right to be here." Henry has to shift under her piercing gaze, to keep his own nerves at bay. "But you belong here." He sees now, what his own self-loathing and grief didn't allow him to see. He sees what his Uncle and Godfather see so clearly. Freya suits him and his world. She belongs to it; the feminine force that can keep him on the straight and narrow. "

I want you, here." Henry admits, in no uncertain terms. He can swing back-and-forth on the pendulum of mental health. But he's certain about Freya. "You are deeply connected to my purpose." It may sound like fluff, but he means it sincerely. His hands slotting easily against the small of her waist, ushering her closer.

"Are you anyone else's?" It's the closest he comes to his old self; cheeky and self-assured. "I'm sure there's a line out the door. But come on," his dark eyes lower to the plunge of her dress, appreciatively humming at the view. "Is there a question who you put this on for?" It's all for him. An inspiration, a muse, to right his mind. Freya's words turn on him, however, and Henry is smart enough to pick up on her own dissatisfaction with him. But she raises commitment, and with her words, his eyebrows lift.

"Commitment." Henry repeats lowly, lifting a hand to the small of her back. His fingertips playing with the strands of her blonde hair. "What do you want me to do? Buy up every designer on Bond street? Hard launch you on my socials?" And suddenly, his uncle's imploring words echo so clearly in his ear. "Or are you looking for something more permanent?"

[jetaiimee]

Even though he downed numerous glasses of red wine with dinner, he could clearly see what was playing out in front of his eyes. Andrea was mesmerizing, taking her time as she undressed. Greg's hardness was throbbing in his pants, excited to be experiencing something he had spent so many weeks fantasizing about. "Fucking hell," he murmured, the corner of his lip pulling up into a smirk. His eyes darkened with lust as his gaze trailed down to her chest, and for a moment he forgot all about what she had said about taking it slow.

Reaching his arm out towards her, he found his way to her waist, pulling her back in. "This is different," Greg chuckled, reflecting on how he was (almost) completely sober, kissing a girl he actually cared for. "..but it's nice," he quickly added, making sure he didn't make her uncomfortable. Truth was, Greg was a bit awkward when it came to love - even though he was so good with people. Maybe it was the butterflies.

Brushing his hand down Andrea's side, he leaned in for another kiss, deeper and more passionate this time. He wants more, and he wants it all. "We're really doing this?" He asked when pulling back slightly, gazing down at her with a soft smile upon his face. "We could always blame the booze if things go south."

"No? I don't know." She emits, almost nervously. Greg's put butterflies in her stomach, or a tingle down her spine before. But it's the first question he's asked that's made her feels nervous and seen. "I just know I can't go back home to Brazil as anything less than a triumph." The Alvarez's wealth is what brought her to Pierpoint, and if she didn't dominate or come home with a lavish husband? Well, then her parents would ask - what was the point? This time, she puts her hand on her chest, genuinely laughing. "Oh boohoo," she mocks tauntingly, nudging him back in the ribs. "Like you don't have girls in your DM's." There's a long line up for men like Greg; handsome, sweet-hearted men in finance. A man that looks as good in a suit as he does in country wear, with a perfect English dog and a perfect English cottage.

It's quiet when he kisses her. Andrea inhaling a sharp breath at the tenderness of it. The last time she kissed him - they were drunk off an open bar, high off lines done on the back of his cellphone. Crammed into a tight stall, with all of the city bearing down on them. This is new; light and open, almost frighteningly clear-headed. Andrea murmurs his name against her lips, grazing along his clean-shaved jaw line. Her fingertips reaching for the buttons of his shirt, undoing the final few buttons. She drops her lips to his Adam's apple, nipping at the tender skin as her nails drag along his hard abdomen.

She drags her lips away from his body, cheeks burning red. Andrea pulls back, but she's only just started with him. Her eyes don't move away from his, as she starts lifting off her shirt, body quivering as the fresh air brushes against her skin. Standing warmly in front of him, in nothing but her skirt and the black lace bra she was wearing underneath.

[jetaiimee]

"I wasn't going to either," Freya playfully returned, closing the door behind him and waltzing past him as he observed the room she was so lucky to be placed in. It warms her heart to hear she has gained the approval of the guests; it was important to her and a sign of her being in the right place. If anyone had told her she would be where she was today a few years ago, she would never ever have believed it. Working hard for her goals, she had managed to acheive more than she could imagine.

"I'm not just any woman - I like to think I've earned my right to be here." She's confident in front of Henry now, knowing he's not his usual invincible self, and he's able to see what she's good for, without all the distractions the city offered.

Her legs already felt like jelly, but when Henry calls her his, she melts. Resting her palms onto Henry's chest, she leaned her weight against his, a bright smile forming on her lips. "I'm yours, huh?" She teased, brows raised up at him. "I know you're a man that goes after what he wants, but doesn't it take two to tango? Commitment usually goes both ways." She was trying to be witty about it, but in reality she was calling him out on his flaky behaviour. It wasn't that she wasn't able to forgive, but a formal apology was in place. Preferably in the form of a shopping spree and a boquet of 100 red roses.

Freya wrapped her arms around his neck, fingertips brushing through the now longer hair in his neck. Tilting her chin down, she locked eyes with him and sighed softly. "Henry, I want to be yours. Don't make it harder than it has to be."

She answers her own question. Freya holds his feet to the fire, demanding he show up and hold himself accountable. And true to his word, he does just that. He puts on his suit, making good conversation and a handful of jokes. It's not the Henry most knew; loud, charming, and certain. But a step in the right direction. His eyes keep lingering back at Freya. The silent, deadly power of hers that not only brings him to the table. But earns the warm appraisal of his Uncle, his godfather, and the rest of England's most titled and influential men. Over cigars and whiskey, the consensus is clear - Freya fits the bill.

"Don't let me stop you." Henry says amenably, eyes lowering to her bare feet. If he'd come minutes later, he might have the thrill of catching her fresh out of the bath. Such a thought makes him smile. Already, Freya is working her magic. That sort of carnal desire was stoked away in the last few weeks. An oddity for a man as sexually charged as he. Stepping into the room, he glances around one of the familiar rooms. Looking over his shoulder, and back at her. Again, a perfect fit. "It's a common occurrence around here. Always some formal dinner, or another." He expands. "For most, a place like this is suffocating or foreboding." he inspects Freya appreciatively.

"Rare is a woman that can bring new life to it, or pass its tests. But the reports are in. Everyone thinks you are a triumph." And that winning energy? It pulls Henry closer into her orbit, desperate for a piece of it. "And that I am the luckiest of chaps to call you mine." Henry approaches, finally being the first to touch - his thumb along her cheek, taking her in. "Thank you." He whispers, blinking down at her. "For reminding me who I am."

[jetaiimee]

He appreciated her honesty, happy to know she was comfortable enough to be vulnerable with him - even though he was some flashy VP taking advantage of his title to some extent. Greg's eyes narrowed down at Andrea, questioning her witty comment. "Is that what you really want? Nothing wrong about it, sure - but a girl like you could conquer the whole world if she wanted to." The corner of his lips pulls up into a coy smile; he had never really thought about what kind of girl he would prefer. All he knew was that Andrea was fierce, and he fucking loved it.

"You have certainly achieved that in my opinion. I might be a bit biased, though.." Greg shrugged, having another sip of his beer. "You're talented. And pretty," he smiled down at her, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as he leans against the raiiling. "...perhaps a good fuck too, I wouldn't know." He nudged her side playfully, teasing her for keeping him on the edge for so long.

As Andrea reached out to place her hand against his cheek, he turned further towards her, allowing himself to be drawn into her allure. She's smooth about it too, finding a way to connect with him on a deeper level - like few had managed before. Greg let his hand rest against her hip, drawing her closer with eyes locked with hers, slowly leaning down to kiss her lips. It all feels so natural, yet his heart is racing, as if sparks ignited when their lips touched. There's no need to say anything, their shared kiss says it all.

A low, satisfied hum emitts from his chest, hungry for more. There's a taste of liquor on Andrea's lips, a perfect mix with the sweet taste of her lips. The scene with the two of them kissing on the balcony is as if taken straight out of a movie; her hair flowing through the air, the sound of the city in the distance. For the first time in forever, Greg felt comfortable in the present - there's no need for any substances to highten his reality. Andrea's lips is all he needs.

They crossed the line of professionalism before. Yet somehow, this feels infinitely more personal. His shirt is undone, sleeves rolled up. Andrea's heels are left on the carpet, and she's already undoing the slick bun holding her curls at bay. In this warm, California setting - they are the furthest from the nightclub, where work existed between them. "To the patriarchy. And to bloody Pierpoint." She accepts, a dark humor about it all. Did Andrea love the institution? No. But like Greg, she finds herself drawn to it, in all its flaws and misdeeds.

"Maybe I'm just waiting for some rich, upwardly mobile VP to wife me up and set me up in a country house." It's her turn to return with ginger wit, a wicked smirk on her face. But one long, lingering look is enough to flush an honest answer out of her. The whiskey helps her liquid courage. "I feel like that all the time. Like everyone's just waiting to be right about me. Nepo baby. Hired as a favor." She sighs, lamenting into her drink. "Pretty face, good for a fuck." Maybe that's why she's toyed Greg along for so long. Trying to disprove a point. "Not forever. Just until... I don't know. Land myself some 'fuck you' status? Then, do what I want."

Before she can overthink it, she places a hand against his cheek. Brushing along his smooth skin, sinking in the somber look in his eye. "Don't let this place define you. Just, slow down. No high's or bloody lows." Andrea reaches for his half-finished bottle of beer, placing it beside her whiskey. "No booze. No anesthesia." What Greg needed was something real. "Be a person, with me." Nodding, she lingers invitingly. "Kiss me - slow. Like you've got all the time in the world."

[jetaiimee]

Greg skillfully circled his fingers over her clitoris, building up towards her climax while his other hand reached up above Andrea's head to support himself as he leaning in over her. Her sweet whimpers let him know just how close she was, and with some encouragement he was able to get her off - just like he wanted. "Fuck, that's a good girl," he whispered into her ear, his voice thick with arousal as he barely had had enough of her.

Greg got his hand out of her underwear, moving it up to rest on her hip as he focused on her. "Should you, though? We're having so much fun," he smirked, leaning down to steal another kiss. "Have another line with me," he suggested as he mumbled against her lips, eyes sparkling with enthusism as he was almost begging for her to stay. The growing bulge in his trousers was hard to ignore, but he figured he would wait for her to take any kind of initiative - not just whip it out like another creep.

Reaching his hands down to pull at the fabric of his jeans before sitting down - his pants were getting uncomfortably tight, he also got his wallet out and pulled up a little bag with a few colorful pills. His own thoughts made him chuckle as he looked back up at Andrea. Poor girl was probably dying to get away from him, right? "I know I just made you feel really good, but.." His head tilted to the side. "Do you wanna feel really fucking good?"

"Hmm, I might just have a thing or two to learn from you." It's meant as a tease, but a part of Andrea means it in earnest. It takes a lot to survive the shark tank that is Pierpoint, and she just makes it unscathed through RIF by virtue of her social prowess. But pleasing clients well enough to make it to VP? It's a seductive thought. Not quite as the feel of his touch against her, wiping the slate clean of remembrance. Moving backwards, Andrea shivers when her back meets the cold wall. Forgotten the moment the warmth of Greg's body in on her, his hot breath against her skin.

"So long as you still take care of me." Andrea whispers back, in challenge. Meeting his charged kiss with her own, tongues lost in another as Andrea whimpers and writhes. Closing in on her tender release, she grips his shoulders in favor of screaming. Her fingernails digging just into his skin, her body convulsing against his hand. When was the last time she's been touched like this by anyone? Shattered and breathing heavily against Greg's lips, she pulls away. Her thumb rubbing the corner of his lips, removing her lipstick.

"You're fucking explosive, Greg." She marvels into his ear, smiling coyly. "And a gentleman." She tacks on, smoothing down her skirt. "And I'm a lady..." Her fingers just graze his own arousal, over his trousers. Smiling, she drops her hand. "I should go."

[jetaiimee]

Henry's smile and obvious amusement makes her giggle, beyond pleased to have him cheered up - if only for a brief moment. "What, because you think I'd pull off the latex-look?" She's teasing him now, well aware of the fact that he loved it when she was in control. Not just in a sexual way, but putting him in his place, making her expectations clear. She wouldn't catch her dream man by accepting bare minimum - she had supermodel potential, remember?! "I'm not asking too much of you, am I Henry? If anything, you need someone to keep you accountable."

The dinner was rather uneventful, except the longing stares exchanged between the two of them, and the woman next to Freya going off about her latest shopping spree at Cartier. The scene didn't offer any privacy - granting Henry and Freya few opportunities to catch up. The crowd called it a night after hours of chatting, drinking and reminiscing about the past, and Freya found her way back to her bedroom. It was a rewarding feeling to step out of her shoes after such a long day, and as promised - a knock on her door.

"There you are. I was almost about to unwind," Freya said as she invited him in, his suit scenting of cigars and brown liquor. It was a smoky mix of aromas, feeling very familiar in Henry's presence. "I didn't get the chance to compliment your outfit earlier. You look very dapper," the blonde hummed, her alluring smile a warm welcome into her safe space in which she hoped he would feel comfortable in.

For the first time in weeks, Henry cracks a bemused smile. Freya's sweetness masks her expectations of him so well, he almost didn't notice. But it's her same game, used to seduce him, that would save him from his own introversion. "Has anyone ever told you that you'd make a world class dominatrix?" He asks before censoring himself. Surely, Freya knew that. She had him abandoning his worse self to appease her. "Cheer up. My uncle is a fan. He wouldn't have brought you up here, if he wasn't." The Muck's were notoriously aristocratic, gatekeepers of society. And his ever-traditional uncle wouldn't call on any young woman to pull him out to bright.

"Who said I'm talking about how I look?" Classically handsome, Henry knows he may not be at Freya's level of ethereal beauty. But isn't that what his lineage and silver spoon made up for? "They are calling me a crook, a thief, a failure." Noticeably, it's the last that gives him pause. The only one that bears true insult. "Shouldn't you be on the arm of a winning man?" Ideally, not one of his pals, but it is a slim circle. Finally, Henry takes true stock of her. The hug of the silk against her body, the pert pout of her lips. All he had to do was show up, and he would please her. Something about that reality edges him on.

"I'll get dressed." He agrees, amenably. "Where did my uncle put you up? The duchess' room?" It's where he'd expect Freya to be. A pristine bedroom, but not yet those reserved for the women in the Muck men's lives. "I'll come to your bedroom after brandy and cigars."

[jetaiimee]

Greg found her drink of choice quite bold; but what else to expect from Andrea? She was fierce as fuck. "You're certainly way more addicting,- that's for sure, " he contemplated as he knew she had been on his mind ever since that initial night together. And the best was yet to come - if everything were to play out as it seemed to at this point. With her in his room already, there was simply a fine line between professionalism and indulgence.

The warm breeze from the ocean felt nice against Greg's skin, undoing the top button of his shirt as he leaned down to pop open a bottle of beer. Stepping out to the balcony, he joined Andrea, leaning casually against the railing. "I dunno, happy clients? Climate change? The Patriarchy?" Greg is his usual witty self, rarely able to be the dead serious person people mistake him for.

Tilting his head to the side, he locked eyes with Andrea and that same admiring look upon his face returned. Taking a swig of his beer, he glanced over at the mesmerizing view, a sense of inner peace as it was a stark contrast to his usual hectic London life. "Do you ever think you'll stay in Pierpoint forever? You're just starting out -- I know. I love the thrill of it all, but I'm just fucking scared I'll explode at some point." He looked back at her as he felt the wash of honesty flush over him, blushing slightly at his confession. "You know I like to have a good time, but dear god, my body is rotting inside."

"She's a cow." Not very kind or feminist of her to say. But Andrea isn't exactly the poster child for sisterhood, either. Pretty and clean-cut as she may be, she's always been competitive. And whether Greg realizes he's stoked the fire of her own wanting of him, by chatting up the receptionist, remains to be seen. "Nonsense. You came here with me." Straightening her posture, she adds; "I'm better than any drug you're used to." It's promising a lot. However, she's observed Greg for awhile now. Circled this seduction with practiced ease. There is a high from a woman, clear-headed and wanting, that counts for more than anything else.

"Nice upgrade." She hums, leaning into the glass case for a mini-bottle of whiskey. Dark eyes glancing down at the beach, ears piquing at the sound of the ocean. She kicks off her heels on the rug, walking over to the balcony to get a better look. "What should we drink to?" Andrea asks, turning back at Greg expectantly. A palpitation in her chest as she watches, caught between her self-control and her own inner desires. Leaning against the balcony, she uncorks the bottle, glancing between his exposed forearms and his dark eyes.

[jetaiimee]

"One simply doesn't make VD without making clients one's biggest priority," Greg stated, noticing how she was interrogating him regarding any other interests. He was the kind of guy that got way too invested in someone, so casual hook-ups was usually out of the picture. However, he did have needs like every one else, so he would let his urges take over every once in a while. Much like tonight, where he had a gorgeous grad sitting in his lap. "I'm here with you, aren't I? Do I look like a guy that's drowning in pussy?" He could if he wanted too - there was plenty of girls out there looking for a man in finance.

As Andrea turned around facing him, Greg wrapped an arm around her tiny waist, making sure there was no possibility of her falling off, and simply to keep her close. It was surprisingly easy to have her straddling his lap, and now he had to make sure she was completely satisfied with him.

The fabric of her skirt gathered around her hips, granting Greg easy access to sneak his fingers down into her panties. When feeling for himself how turned on she was, fingers gliding over her slick folds, a groan that he wasn't able to control emitted from him. Leaning forward, Greg picked her up by gripping at her waist, getting up from his seat and putting her gently back down on the floor.

"As much as I love hearning you moan, you should probably keep quiet," he whispered into her ear as he pressed her back up against the wall. It was easier for him to focus both on her face and her core like this. Brushing his lips over her cheek, he let them trail all the way to her plump lips, sharing a heated kiss with her. All while his fingers toyed with her clit, eager to please. This wasn't the first time he had fingered a girl in a bathroom stall, but it certainly was the first time he had fingered a colleague in a bathroom stall. Or in any location, really.

"Just your clients?" Of course, Andrea catches his evasion of the topic. But if Andrea is going to cross a line, she at least wants to be the only one. She was raised a Princess, in an ivory tower of privilege and spoils. She's used to being treasured, and she goads him on. "No other analysts or grads falling over you?" Or more to the point - no other young ingenue he's flirting into bathroom stalls?

"Maybe I have other ways of coping with the stress." Her words are heavy, as her eyes drift between them. Did Greg realize that this, in all of its sin and debauchery, was her way? The thrill of something new and dangerous took away from the long hours, the high-stress arena. Gulping, she grins widely back at him. "No, I guess I can't. Your charm is why I'm even in here." That - and something sweet in those dark eyes. Even in these circumstances, there is something easy about Greg's company. "I'm not looking for Prince Charming. I can handle straight forward." A sweet moan pulls from the back of her throat, writhing against his touch. The mix of Greg's ready hands and his party favor making for a blur of ecstasy. Turning on his lap, she straddles him now. Her body pulsing desperately against his fingers.