Come on kids, let's go down the rabbit hole with DRITA

“Does babygirl want Daddy to punish her?”

He slips himself back overtop of her now that her pants are sufficiently done away with, positions his mouth back right at her ear so his whisper can send shivers down her back. At this angle, her shirt is slipping up her body and it feels like everything is working with him.

He works his hand around to her front, pausing at her lower stomach with soft fingertip brushes to make her wonder which direction he’s headed. He finally trails up her body and pushes his way under her bra to toy at her nipple, all the while still squeezing and pulling at her tail.

There’s always so much of her that he wants to explore, to touch and enjoy and listen to her enjoy equally as much. The conundrum is always working up motivation to make himself let go of her. But he has to if his pants are ever going to come off. Well, then again.

“You’d better take Daddy’s pants off too if you want your punishment that badly.”

She goes to turn herself over, but he keeps his grip on both her tail and her nipple firm to prevent her moving, meaning that he wants her to stay pressed to the floor.

“Just reach around. I️ want to keep playing while you work.”

He snickers a little with another kiss pressed to her neck as he brings his hips further up for her, giving a particularly mischievous downward yank to her tail.

"How the hell...?"

He sees it coming a mile away because, if left up to her, she would just turn around right under him and work his clothes off in a fury. She's not prideful enough to keep herself from admitting she's very desperate and very okay with showing it if it means getting what she wants. As if that weren't obvious enough.

But he locks her tail further in his hand, gropes at her breast, pinches at her hard nipple in his hand. She's as good as stuck like this. Her hips shift in growing impatience, but also to try to shift him over her, figure out an angle that she can actually do what he's telling her to. He sure as hell isn't making it easy on her.

To be fair, he's topping right now so she could at least do some of this work. They do so love to share the workload, it's just another way they work together so well.

Trita reaches around behind her, first trying to go past the outside of her thighs, then up above her back, but nothing gives her easy access to him. She huffs, her breath creating a quick cloud of fog on the metal below her as she tries to work this out. He keeps moving her, pulling at her, making her squirm and squeak, doing everything to playfully work against her, even using her body's own reactions in his teasing favor.

With no other options, she turns her face to the other side where she can see his other arm working at her chest. It takes a moment but she tucks her head just enough that she's close enough to bite his forearm sharply as a silent command for him to stay somewhat still for her.

Dolan, of course, doesn't listen, just continues moving her as he pleases so she lets her teeth stay sunk into his arm as a constant threat. Then she finally works her hands between her own legs, past her hips and through her thighs to reach up to where she can feel his weight pressing down on her. It arches her a little more, bends her back further, but she can at least reach his belt now, easily flicking it off from pure muscle memory alone. After that, unbuttoning his pants and tugging them down his legs is the easy part.

"You're making your babygirl work for you, huh? Is this part of the punishment or are you just having fun?"

They’d considered going back to the apartment, taking a shower, washing some of the sweat and government air duct off their sticky skin. But Trita had pointed out that aside from the freshly made biscuits, they really had no food left back there and they’d both been starving ever since the air duct excitement.

That’s how they find themselves back at Lucky, still at a decent enough time to catch some of her regulars who nod and throw up a casual hand in a wave to her as they duck through for her to survey the state of the place. The lights flicker and swing and everything buzzes, in a tactile way as well as a visual way. Dolan can feel it on his skin, in his eyes.

It’s a sensory experience in every way, and it reminds him of the speakeasy in that regard. Of course, the conventions had been different then. Big brass band, everything decked out in shiny reflective gold, the rich textures of velvet and feathers. The heady hanging scent of alcohol and cigar smoke and heavy perfume. Here, everything is sharper, more direct. Even the areas of darkness, shadows not touched by the strobing lights, feel crisper somehow, of a darker and more direct shade of black. It’s hard for Dolan to tell which environment he likes better. Something about this one seems to fit him decently.

He follows her into the kitchen in the back as she starts rummaging in the refrigerator, bending over slightly, probably solely for his benefit. It draws a little hum of a laugh out of him, tired as it may be, as he leans against the counter.

“A pretty productive day, I️’d say. Nice to not be stared at now. At least, for something other than following you around like a whipped puppy.”

He quirks a playful grin at her as she starts pulling things from the fridge, all the while catching the angles of his new haircut in the steely reflection of the microwave. Every time he sees his semblance in a shining surface, it catches him a little off guard that he barely recognizes himself. Or more that he looks more like that man from the speakeasy, the one who’d gotten to watch her walk down the aisle to him. In that regard, he’s pretty jealous of that man. But at least now he looks like him, if nothing else.

“So what’s on the list for tomorrow? Another few steps toward world domination? More playing around in air ducts? Both?”

Trita slightly turns her head, letting her eyes throw him a very mildly annoyed glance over her shoulder, one eyebrow quirked up, focusing on him through loose strands of white that obstruct her vision partially. Looking at his appearance, sometimes it's easy to forget how playful he really is, that he still has these boyish tendencies. At least with her. The new haircut opens his face up to view and more matches these sorts of moments than his long hair hanging in his face... She did a damn good job.

Music continues to beat against the walls from the main room, a dull muted rhythm playing out in the kitchen. It' makes her remember the time she had offered to soundproof the wall like she had to do for the ceiling so the people in the apartments above wouldn't lose their minds, but her chefs and kitchen staff had said it wasn't that bad. They were probably lying, she has to wear earplugs some nights when working behind the bar, and there are some hybrids back here with just as sensitive of ears as her own.

No point in really dwelling on it, she spins around from the fridge, her arms filled with ingredients, kicking the refrigerator door closed as she steps away to a section of the stove a little distance away from the remaining cooks as to not bother them.

"You know, believe it or not, we do have actual jobs and neither of our actual jobs is screwing each other. It's just a really nice added benefit."

She gets out a deep saucepan and begins to cut vegetables right over top of it so they fall in, no cutting board needed. Each time one falls, it's followed by a soft pleasing thud against the metal pot and it helps her set up a pattern. Winter is just around the corner, but it's not like Pierson is ever all that warm. Their summers consist of a high of seventy, seventy-seven if things are getting real crazy with climate change. That does also very much mean the winters can be brutal and temperatures flip zero off on their way into the negatives. Whether or not Dolan is aware of it, he's about to eat a lot of soups and comfort foods. Better get him used to it now.

"Actually. I have an assignment for you tomorrow. Nothing crazy, run of the mill stuff, for you at least. You'll be going to the education and school ward to... Observe a professor during his day. I'll give you the details later."

Her eyes flick over to the staff in the kitchen as they keep busy with their jobs. Lucky is its own separate practice from Diamond, these hybrids here don't want to live that underground life and she respects them by keeping as much Diamond out of the bar as she can. Of course, they all know she runs her informant side-gig from her office in the back, but that seems to be okay with them and she tries to keep it in the office so making sure it stays that way.

"I have my own assignment, too. So tomorrow will be our first real time apart here in Pierson. Try not to miss me too much. Or do miss me to the point it hurts if that gets you going. Whichever you want, love."

Trita spares a moment to look back at him and blow a kiss as she finishes up the vegetables, moving on to add things like broth and noodles to the pot.

"For right now, I figure we eat, kiss a little, enjoy the late hours at Lucky, then head home to kiss some more."

“A professor, huh?”

Dolan leans back against the counter, arms folded, watching her closely as she slices, dextrous with that knife in ways that try to pull his lips into a thin smile. Its been easy to settle into a sort of routine even though he hasn’t been here with her long. Whatever Trita’s routine is, Dolan’s has become to watch it. Observe it, memorize the small facets of it that make mundane things unique to her. The locked arch of her pointer finger against the knife while she slices, the careless pop of her hip when she leans against the sink while brushing her teeth. Theres so much of her to experience and know and he finds himself easily taken in by it all.

This time, though, he pulls himself out of that reverie at the details of her announcement.

“A professor doesn’t seem like the normal type that Diamond has... observed.”

He mimics her same tone, lightly rolling his eyes for emphasis. Before she can answer or add, he slips up behind her, taking a couple of the raw sliced vegetables before she can add them into the pot.

“You’re going to get me horribly out of shape in no time if we keep this up.”

He juts his chin at the already steaming pot, even though he closes his eyes a little bit to savor how it already smells with the herbs and spices and probably lots of salt that she’s added.

"Oh no, I'll keep you very, very in shape. Don't worry."

Despite their little audience in the kitchen, she feels herself smirking at him in a less than appropriate way. Thankfully, they're all busy keeping Lucky up and running, too busy to spare the two in the corner more than quick glances. It gives her freedom to let her eyes rove over him, appraising him some.

That's when she gets a thought, one she acts on without hesitation. Popping the back of the knife blade between her teeth, she frees up her hands to roll up one of his sleeves. Once it's decently out of her way near his shoulder, she grabs at his forearm, up to his bicep, doing rough measurements with her hands and fingers. Much to his credit, he lets her for as long as she needs, only really looking expectantly at her when she steps back, spits the knife back out into her palm, and focuses on the soup again, not even bothering to hide the satisfaction on her face.

"If you're really that worried, I'll take your measurements when we get home. Keep track of your body for you like the kind loving wife I am."

The sentence makes her snicker some, getting to work dicing chicken, adding it to the pot, then throwing some thick homestyle noodles in right behind it. It shouldn't be too much longer now.

"Anyways, he's just a person of interest. He teaches at the main human-based university towards the city square. He has... Interesting teachings about the origins and future of hybridkind. We'd like you to help us examine his research."

Dolan arches an eyebrow to go with that amused look on his face, the same one he’s worn throughout her feeling up his arms and looking him up and down for her little display. He doesn’t doubt that somehow, between the blowing up buildings and the getting into all manner of trouble with her, he’ll manage to stay in shape a while longer. Especially if they keep doing a portion of that eating while naked like they had that morning.

“So not only am I️ your go-to nitty gritty guy when you need a throat slashed, but you’re also trusting me with the finer philosophical pursuits of your organization? Well. That’s nearly enough to make a fellow blush.”

She swats his hand away playfully when he goes to pinch at her waist, but in reality he uses it as a distraction as he grabs a few more discarded pieces of raw vegetables from the cutting board.

“If you want me to observe him. Listen to him. How are you proposing I️ do that. I️ know you’re not thinking I️’m going to sit in on a lecture. My school days are quite far behind, as you so love to remind me.”

"Maybe examine was the wrong word."

Trita reaches into her pocket, flipping her phone out so the holographic screen can flick open. Only a few touches and swipes before a file is open with the man's picture and a small profile on him.

"This is our wonderful professor. I actually stole copies of his research... Maybe a month ago? It was before we were all whisked away to neverland by a cruel little fox. So, I have his research already and Makun has been trying to trace back his sources since I handed it over."

She hands her phone over to him so he can read over this man's general bio and any notes she had personally taking on his daily routine from her own part in this mission. It helps catch him somewhat up to date but it also keeps his greedy hands out of the ingredients. As he reads, she points at him with a flirtatious wink, clicking her tongue in time.

"That's where you come in. This man has left no paper nor digital trails of his studies, his facts, his sources, none of it. That is nearly impossible unless you're working with the people helping you study and they're your only source of information gathering. We need you to... Convince him to tell us who is conducting some of his research with him and where they do it."

“Ahhhh. Convince. Now there’s an action word I️’m familiar with. Thank you for clearing that up for me.”

He wrinkles his nose slightly as he hands the phone back to her, getting his other smacked lightly as he reaches for the last bit of discarded carrot peels.

“So then. While I️’m politely convincing Mr. Professor here, what will you be doing? This sounds like a really fun date idea.”

A little childishly, he hikes himself up to sit on the counter, his long legs dangling.

“Oh, and by the way, don’t forget Vanilla said I️ could have access to her supplies for jobs now. I️ wanna take her up on that for this one.... does that entice you any? You wanna watch?”

Dolan is either totally oblivious to, or just ignores, everyone else in the kitchen as he focuses his intense gaze on her, bites at his own lip a little suggestively before licking it. There’s really not much a of a line for them between innocent and sensual, all the lines are blurred and beautifully so. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

"Love, I just said I have my own mission..."

The corners of her lips pull down some, pouting mostly at herself for not being able to make his suggestion happen. It really does seem unfair that he's will have been on two missions now and she hasn't been able to be there in person for either. It's some sick, cruel fate of the universe.

"I will be secretly in attendance to a senator's party tomorrow night, so I'll be spending the better portion of the day finishing up my plans. Boring things like making sure I have the mansion properly detailed out in a blueprint, getting any needed outfit changes ready, you name it."

As her own frustration grows the deeper the pout settles on her face, she starts to tape the tip of the knife against the pain in irritation, acting very much like a child not getting her way.

"Damn... I'd really like to go with you. Okay, next mission I assign you, it's a duo mission and I'm going to make sure it's the best one I can get to display your skillset. Some sort of perfect evaluation. I mean, as your boss, I have to do those anyway. Why not soon? I'll even grade you."

“Senator’s party.”

He repeats it with a little bit of a pout of his own. His mouth hangs ajar a little bit in a show of half disgust and half jealous possessiveness.”

“You’re going to a party without me. And here I️ thought you were gonna try and make me feel welcome and introduce me around and all.”

His lips twitch a little, only slightly, to betray the nitpicky nature of his words. But he should know by now that even though no one else has ever gotten good at reading the minute details of his nearly-blank expressions, the last thing Trita is, is a no one. She gives him a little pointed stare to prove it, pushing him wordlessly, albeit with a little bit of her signature attitude, to unburden himself further.

“You’ll be wearing a dress, won’t you. If it can indeed still be called that?”

"Undecided."

Trita can only manage a small shrug at that, still pouting to herself that she can't examine Dolan on his own mission. This is probably going to bother her for hours now that he's so slyly invited her to do so. Of course, Dolan, being who he is, isn't content with such a bland one-word answer, he just keeps watching her... In that way that she can feel makes her cheeks warm. Only thing to do is to humor him and elaborate.

"I'm not sure I'll actually be part of the party-proper or if I'll stick to the shadows. I may need to actually participate which will involve a dress, a wig... A very uncomfortable contraption to keep my ears pinned down. The whole nine-yards."

Something about his question makes her eyes snap to him, eyebrow arched, some of the humor coming back into her expression. Sticking a spoon in the pot, she snags a noodle and flings it right at his face, laughing under his breath as it hits his nose and falls. But, it's Dolan, so she also enjoys watching him easily reach to catch it without so much as a flinch, no trace of panic on his face, before popping it in his mouth.

"You don't like my choice in dresses?"