nookiepowered | Fandom High [s]Sex Dungeon[/s] Security Office, Thursday

"Seriously?" said Bo on entering her office. Because seriously?

Bad enough that all her calls to Portalocity were coming back Contact Declined this week, like somebody over there was actively trying to make sure she couldn't escape to Wales and certain undead residents thereof when certain feelings she lived with every day started twisting up the dial to Spinal Tap levels, but now this?

This being a security office now liberally bestrewn with colorful latex circles and squares (equal opportunity desecration; she supposed that was nice), battery-operated objects of various sizes and shapes, some more humanoid than others ("TENTACLES, KENZI? REALLY?"), some even already turned on (...shut up) like the line of yellow plastic ducks merrily buzzing their way across her desk.

Like her libido needed any had-to-have-come-from-'Dite's encouragement this week? And as for the leather swing hanging from a sturdy pair of chains affixed to the ceiling in the middle of the room...

Actually, that looked kind of fun. Maybe it would even cool her off a little bit?

Orrr maybe not. On the other hand, working up a sweat as she swung back and forth was keeping Bo just dizzy enough to forget why she was supposed to be annoyed about this.

{Aaaaaaand the followthrough, because there's always followthrough.}

[OOC: Office redecoration modded with permission, nay instigation from

regretiz4suckas. Open, but... sex pollen. Succubus. Probably not safe for work despite the fact that she's at work.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Oh sure, do that and Derek was forced to pin her up against the desk. As you do. "For which of us?"

Good question. "The desk?"

Or the vibrating ducks, which were now kind of milling around and bumping into Bo's leather-clad ass...

Derek cocked his head to the side like that was a sacrifice he was willing to make in order to think clearly again. He bared his teeth in something that you could probably consider to be a smile if you ignored the fangs.

Then he helped things along by moving his hands down her thighs to hook under and deposit her on the desk a little more surely.

"Fuck the desk," Bo decided, squirming enough to knock three more rubber ducks off it as she craned her face up to test just how fangy those fangs really were. "Fuck the ducks too."

You know, this would be where, in porn, the guy would say 'I'd rather fuck you', but Derek was not like people in porn. He had a lot in common with them considering his waxed chest and artful stubble, but that was about it.

Instead, kissed her back, ~~fingernails~~ claws catching on the fabric of her shirt.

Bo, in her more lucid moments, would admit that by her very nature she was a lot like people in ~~snuff~~ porn, but she hoped she had better dialogue.

Right now, not so much. "Nnnhnnnnh..." for instance, was not gonna win her any Genie Awards.

Dialogue was probably for people not currently experiencing supernatural hormone overload. Or in the process of making out on a desk, surrounded by sex toys.

Wait. That last part was pretty porn-like.

Never mind.

Derek shoved the nearest ducks out of the way, trying to put his knee up onto the desk and over her.

Bo was good with that. She could even help! By blindly shoving the rolly, spinny massage-a-chair out of his way with her boot, then wrapping that leg around his back.

There was a reason her alternate universe future son who was probably not named after the guy who was currently on top of her unless he was, would be very successful in both of his chosen careers. That reason, in both cases, was flexibility.

Though he didn't have the same level of pent up sexual frustration, so...

And Derek was ever so helpful with that leg, keeping himself propped up with one arm and using the other to pull her up to a position that probably factored into some sort of Kama Surta-y book. "Door."

Had they closed the door? Why was he remember this now?

"More room on the desk."

That... might not have been what he meant.

Well, she wasn't wrong.

"Is the door closed?" he asked, giving her throat a nip. Okay, it was a little more toothy than that, but he wasn't breaking skin at least. And it was only a little awkward! "Locked."

Something like that.

"Nnnnnh..." because she was going for a Golden Globe, too. Maybe the special effects of warm succu-energy spreading out from her fingertips would make up for the crappy script?

"Maybe?" She had absolutely no idea.

It was also making him unable to focus beyond her. Bo, you're just asking for Fosse to open that door and find them. And then tap dance his pain away.

He added to the script with a low growl, adjusting the grip he had on her thigh.

If he hadn't done that, Bo might have found enough focus to remember that they were in the freaking security office and there was a panic-lock button on the wall right behind them that would take care of the whole door-Fosse-random-traumatized-student issue without having to move more than an inch or two.

Aren't you sorry now, Derek?

...Would it help you be sorry if Bo wasn't squeezing your ass?

He was so sorry. So, so sorry. Really.

And she was the one distracting people with her succubus powers. Not the other way around. Also, mother of god, why did he wear his pants so tight? He was regretting that decision right now.

Maybe if they rolled in the direction of the button... or went back to making out. Derek was rooting for the kissing.

The question for most people was probably how did he wear his pants so tight. Bo, however, was a professional at tight pants.

Both wearing them and getting people out of them.

She could even manage making out, wearing them, and trying to get someone else out of them, all the the same time!

Well, thank god for that. Derek was at the 'so, clawing someone's shirt off is hot, right?' level of sexual frustration.

There was a faint ripping noise before much more thought could go into that and Derek was yanking his hand back.

So. Ooops? Sorry about your shirt, Bo.

Maybe Bo would care later, if she ever stopped facepalming long enough to assess her wardrobe losses, but right now she was more interested in buttons, zippers, and "Seriously? What, did you tattoo these on?"

Fandom High [s]Sex Dungeon[/s] Security Office, Thursday

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