She’ll miss him witth a bright unfading pain she never anticipated leaving London with. She tells him as much, turning and waving three more times before disappearing into check-in.
Her lack of focus works against them when they’re confronted with Veronica, who stares mystified at their tagalong.
“Long story,” Paloma offers, kicking herself. “I-I umm... Har-Henry asked me to chaperone! For a visit.”
"Does it matter why?" He shoves his hands in his pockets, trying to put on his best punk posturing in his body language. "I don't fuckin' know Spanish, don't you guys want to pay Jekyll back for all the shit he did for you? Just translate a bit and put me up. It'll be a personal favour to get rid of his dirty secret for a while, out of sight across the ocean."
Alpha wolves are a myth, it’s been proven. Decisively debunked. Yet the strength of will and aggression coming off Veronica in waves is too cowing to look at; Paloma suddenly finds fascinating new details in her shoes.
But she must do damage control. “What he means...” Disguising the move in a companionable part of his arm, she actually grips him by the elbow uncomfortably tight. “Edward asked to go, Henry asked me to keep track of him. He said he could find a hotel for him just fine, but I... offered...”
She shrinks under that dominating gaze. Her boss goes from furious to unnervingly chill in the next second. “Look at it as thanks for the drinks last week. Good show you put on.”
"Hell, drink free any time you can catch one of our shows." At least he plays nice enough thanks to Paloma's deathgrip. Maybe with a hint of a sulk in his voice. "Maybe we'll book something in Mexico." Actually that would be a good way to have another excuse to visit......
He stubs at the floor with his heel. "You can hang out with the other guys, they're nicer." At least he's subdued enough to sort of say he's being a fucking prick for no good reason?
His reward is in the hold that softens, the stroke of her thumb across his elbow where no one can see.
Veronica is sizing him up but clearly has reserved her opinion and reaction for a later date. A tiny nod assuages some of Paloma’s heart-stopping terror of retaliation. “I’ll bear that in mind. We board soon, so take a seat.”
Her back turns and they’re left alone. Paloma breathes again, hand dropping away.
He mumbles something that might be sorry. For giving Paloma a heart attack. Antagonizing her boss.
"Hey. What do you want to do on the plane. Gonna be a long trip..." There might also be fingers on her ass for just a second. Not long enough to be caught by anyone else.
Paloma contains the yip but jumps a little bit at the stealth grope. A slanted glance around confirms they have no witnesses.
“What can we do,” she whispers with full knowledge of what he’s implying. She looks slyly from underneath her lashes before she can think better of it. “There’s mimosas.”
"-Shit that's right, we don't have to last fifteen hours sober!" He definitely sounds too excited and relieved about that. He's just really used to passing time with a little intoxication. It's not a problem okay.
He leans down from the neck. "I was thinking maybe if she goes to sleep, or we could head to the back..."
Somehow her stiff waddle hasn’t raised any eyebrows, and they have no way of seeing the welts his mouth left everywhere on her neck. The advantage of London weather lies in the layers a cold Mexican-American needs just to survive a trip through the city.
And he wants to go again? Paloma wonders what his limit is. What hers is— she’s never found out.
“The back of the plane?” Skeptical of his plan’s validity, with the attendants to worry about. Her flush is prominent. “Don’t you need a break from...?”
"Yeah, in the john or something." He grins. It's not sexy, he knows it. But it's hot, there's a fine line. There's no need to even acknowledge that he might be done.
They take their seats, as she gratefully notices the only spares are several rows off from Veronica, reducing the chance of eavesdropping on their very unsafe conversation. Paloma tucks her chin and bites her lips.
"Nasty." The sluggish and previously satiated part of her brain twitches with interest. "You'd have to sneak it past the attendants!"
"As if they don't know what's going on, it's a small space." Also doesn't mean they care too much, or at least, not enough to have to break it up. Don't ask whether he knows from experience.
"They don't care!! Don't worry about it!" Where's Vanessa? He wants to make out but knows he's not allowed if she's in view... Why does he suddenly want to make out? The frustration solicits that response.
For her part, Paloma is feeling rather cuddly and needy after how many bouts of fucking over the course of the evening? She leans an inch closer and catches herself with a frown.
The boss can't see where her hand goes, sliding to innocently tangle their fingers.
"Don't. Mexico City's kinda in the middle right, not near a beach?" 'cause that would be a good date.
Her hand in his reminds him that what he really wants is validation, affection, that the aggression and sex is a means to get it. Maybe he can just hold her hand.
Paloma tucks away this little lesson as a means of soothing Hyde. His palm is dry, cool from the airport's low-key air conditioning. Most importantly it fits over hers like it was meant to.
"In a valley. We could bus to a beach, but it won't be hot year-round." Read: she's not wearing a bikini without wearing more layers than he's fantasizing about. "But it would be quiet..."
One of the attendants is calling for a few no-shows, signalling the start of boarding very soon.
Brilliant. Why didn't she think of that? She's sort of envious of his ability to just lie on her arm when just seconds before she had wanted to do the same, on him.
With the change they have to disentangle, leaving his hair open for sneaky caresses. "Do... well, nothing the attendants shouldn't see, either!" So he knows it's not private enough for, say, fingerfucking. She softens. "She likes her privacy and the window seat, though. You'll see."
Paloma sucks her lips in, giggling a moment. It's a far cry from the aggressive punk-ass white boy who tried to stick his hand under a stranger's dress.
(Remembering that incident doesn't do him any favors, still.)
"I could just say you're a weirdo, too." No lies there.
Priority boarding is announced. She ushers Hyde like a mother hen, making sure he has his pass in order in addition to her own things. Vanessa may notice but says nothing-- not her charge to chaperone. Ultimately setting up the fortress of personal space her window seat provides is all that consumes her boss (already sporting fashionable sleep blinders).
Paloma, of course, cannot order a mimosa after liftoff fast enough.
Look, it's Like what he did with Vanessa just now too. Aggressive for no reason.
Hyde goes ahead and orders two at once, might as well do the mimosa and something a little harder too. Load him up with mini bottles of rum and vodka. All the more excuse if he's drunk to push the divider down and lay on her lap. Especially when the boss isn't looking at all.
She overhears his order and pauses, then shrugs and hopes his tolerance is just that high.
The wall preventing Vanessa from spotting them is Hyde's saving grace. Paloma lifts her mimosa and uselessly tries to gauge his alcohol to blood ratio with a frown.
Too bad for her, she's just made it easier for him. He pulls her down to kiss her, hand on the back of her neck. It's fine, he's not drunk, but he is needy.
Her life is an amalgamation of impulsive mistakes without much forethought attached. Like giving him a clear path and no obstacles between his lips and hers, curling her torso inward and tasting like bitter oranges.
She closes her eyes, loving it despite being fiercely afraid of the fallout from getting caught. Catching her tongue flicking on his piercing is an indicator of when they're about to go too far. Paloma pulls away, just an inch, flushing and hot underneath his hand. "... Um."
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Her lack of focus works against them when they’re confronted with Veronica, who stares mystified at their tagalong.
“Long story,” Paloma offers, kicking herself. “I-I umm... Har-Henry asked me to chaperone! For a visit.”
“Why.”
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But she must do damage control. “What he means...” Disguising the move in a companionable part of his arm, she actually grips him by the elbow uncomfortably tight. “Edward asked to go, Henry asked me to keep track of him. He said he could find a hotel for him just fine, but I... offered...”
She shrinks under that dominating gaze. Her boss goes from furious to unnervingly chill in the next second. “Look at it as thanks for the drinks last week. Good show you put on.”
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He stubs at the floor with his heel. "You can hang out with the other guys, they're nicer." At least he's subdued enough to sort of say he's being a fucking prick for no good reason?
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Veronica is sizing him up but clearly has reserved her opinion and reaction for a later date. A tiny nod assuages some of Paloma’s heart-stopping terror of retaliation. “I’ll bear that in mind. We board soon, so take a seat.”
Her back turns and they’re left alone. Paloma breathes again, hand dropping away.
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"Hey. What do you want to do on the plane. Gonna be a long trip..." There might also be fingers on her ass for just a second. Not long enough to be caught by anyone else.
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“What can we do,” she whispers with full knowledge of what he’s implying. She looks slyly from underneath her lashes before she can think better of it. “There’s mimosas.”
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He leans down from the neck. "I was thinking maybe if she goes to sleep, or we could head to the back..."
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And he wants to go again? Paloma wonders what his limit is. What hers is— she’s never found out.
“The back of the plane?” Skeptical of his plan’s validity, with the attendants to worry about. Her flush is prominent. “Don’t you need a break from...?”
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"Nasty." The sluggish and previously satiated part of her brain twitches with interest. "You'd have to sneak it past the attendants!"
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She mutters something, then speaks up: "Nevermind then!!"
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The boss can't see where her hand goes, sliding to innocently tangle their fingers.
"Most of what I do is worry."
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Her hand in his reminds him that what he really wants is validation, affection, that the aggression and sex is a means to get it. Maybe he can just hold her hand.
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"In a valley. We could bus to a beach, but it won't be hot year-round." Read: she's not wearing a bikini without wearing more layers than he's fantasizing about. "But it would be quiet..."
One of the attendants is calling for a few no-shows, signalling the start of boarding very soon.
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"Where's she sitting on the plane, am I allowed to actually do anything?" Like put his head in her lap maybe?
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With the change they have to disentangle, leaving his hair open for sneaky caresses. "Do... well, nothing the attendants shouldn't see, either!" So he knows it's not private enough for, say, fingerfucking. She softens. "She likes her privacy and the window seat, though. You'll see."
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"That works for me. You can tell her I'm sick if she thinks it's weird." And there he goes, sliding even further until he can put his head in her lap.
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(Remembering that incident doesn't do him any favors, still.)
"I could just say you're a weirdo, too." No lies there.
Priority boarding is announced. She ushers Hyde like a mother hen, making sure he has his pass in order in addition to her own things. Vanessa may notice but says nothing-- not her charge to chaperone. Ultimately setting up the fortress of personal space her window seat provides is all that consumes her boss (already sporting fashionable sleep blinders).
Paloma, of course, cannot order a mimosa after liftoff fast enough.
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Hyde goes ahead and orders two at once, might as well do the mimosa and something a little harder too. Load him up with mini bottles of rum and vodka. All the more excuse if he's drunk to push the divider down and lay on her lap. Especially when the boss isn't looking at all.
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The wall preventing Vanessa from spotting them is Hyde's saving grace. Paloma lifts her mimosa and uselessly tries to gauge his alcohol to blood ratio with a frown.
"That's blatant!" she whispers.
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She closes her eyes, loving it despite being fiercely afraid of the fallout from getting caught. Catching her tongue flicking on his piercing is an indicator of when they're about to go too far. Paloma pulls away, just an inch, flushing and hot underneath his hand. "... Um."
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