fixeswatches | (no subject)

(no subject)

Gabriel reluctantly got out of bed, making his way over to his closet. He pulled out a suit and began to change into it. Paris was gone now and they were left with the reality of the cold cell room. Definitely a disappointment. He would have liked to spend all day in bed with her (at least the second time had gone better for both of them) but they had both agreed that if they stayed in his room for too long, Angela and Noah would become suspicious.

And neither one of them wanted that.

Especially when Candice's dead corpse was still on the floor in a fat, bloody mess.

He pulled on his coat before he began to work on fixing his tie. "So what are we doing next?" He asked curiously.

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"No," He argued, grabbing her again. "I like you too much to just get out of your way," He hissed. Lord knows why it took arguing like this for them to admit things like that to one another. But he wasn't just going to let her storm off. He might have been pissed off, but that didn't mean he was going to just let her leave.

She let him hold onto her, his hands bruising her arms, her lips parting on a sharp, painful gasp. It wasn't because he said he liked her too, and it wasn't because he said he wouldn't let her go. Maybe there was just something about the nearly rabid determination in his eyes that churned her stomach in both fear and excitement, that made the words feel real. Elle leaned in a little closer, her lips twisted into a sneer. "How romantic. It doesn't change the fact that you're being stupid."

"I'm not" He insisted stubbornly, pulling her in a little closer now. His thoughts were a twister of different emotions and he couldn't quite decide if he wanted to kiss her or hurt her. He kind of wanted to do both, honestly.

"Denying it just makes you stupider," she spat, lifting her hands to curl into his shirt, to brace herself as he tugged her in. She felt a little hot from anger, from him, and she couldn't quite identify the shift in ire to searing frustration for what it was--not for a moment. But it was lust, and she felt it as his moist breath collided with her upturned face, his body so close to hers. She wanted to goad him more, push him. Make him snap and take it out on her.

"I'm not stupid," He bit back in anger. He found himself all too aware of how close she was to him, how her body was pressed against him. Part of him just wanted to push her down to the ground and prove to her just who was in control here because she didn't seem to realize it was him.

"You're acting like it," she hissed, lifting her chin higher defiantly, closer to his curled back, wrathful lips. "You're just a pawn to her. A tool," she said viciously, through her teeth. Every raspy breath pressed her chest deeper into his, and it was almost like torture. She wanted to lean her hips into his, touch him, kiss him, claim him. Show him he should trust her and no one else. Make him forget about stupid Angela and her stupid promises.

"I'm nobody's tool," He snarled, finally claiming her lips with his own in a vicious, angry kiss. He bit down on her lower lip, his hands grasping and clawing at her skin. He wanted to show hwe just who was in control here. He wasn't a pawn, he wasn't.

Pain blossomed as her cut reopened, deepened this time, and she spark, hot and hard into his mouth with a crying grunt. Her body pushed into his, into his harsh hands eagerly, and she shoved him against the wall, tearing apart his button-down shirt. "You're nothing but a tool," she spat against his mouth. "You're living in a cell, surrounded by prisoners. Didn't you notice?"

"Of course I noticed," He hissed against lips, eagerly sucking on her bleeding lip, the copper taste of her blood hitting his tongue. "I'm not stupid." But Angela knew more about his powers, about him, at least for the moment. "But until I get my memory back, I'm better off cooperating and gathering as many powers as I can." He grabbed her shoulders with an eager grunt and flipped them around, so he was the one pressing her against the wall now.

She whimpered against his weight, clawing at his chest, reaching around to hold onto his back with blunt, dragging nails. Another arc of electricity shot and sizzled into his mouth, and she wrapped a hand around his neck, pushing him back to breathe. "You're still playing right into her hands," she taunted, and then grabbed his lower lip between her teeth in retribution, biting down hard and tugging.

"Or maybe I'm just biding my time until I know what else to do," He gasped out in pain as she bit down on his lip. He ripped off her camisole, letting his bare hands grasps her skin. He let his hands ice over a little, causing goosebumps to crawl over her skin.

Elle gasped and flinched in surprise, shuddering as his palms rubbed and groped at her skin, the touch cold and arresting. Her body moved, ground desperately on his. Her fingers curled around locks of his hair and she pulled him brutally away. Blood glistened on his lip, the taste of him in her mouth driving her a little mad with desire. "I liked that shirt," she hissed.

"I like it better off of you," He growled back, pressing his lips against hers again, their blood intermingling with one another in a way that made him feel a little crazy, honestly.

She panted and opened her mouth, pushing her tongue past his lips fervently and grabbed, caressed his skin and impatiently pushed his shirt off his arms. She didn't even care they were in a bright hallway, or Mrs. Petrelli was right down the hall, or anything but reaching for the button of his slacks.

He groaned into her mouth, his tongue battling with hers viciously. He didn't care if Angela or Bennet caught them or if they should move back to his room. Instead he began to undo her pants while urging her down to the floor.

She finished unzipping him, and yanked down his slacks and briefs in one go, falling to her knees and pulling him down with her with a forceful tug.

He went down with her onto the ground, tugging down her pants and panties roughly. He grasped her hips roughly before lying her down onto the ground. His mouth kissed, bit, and licked at hers eagerly.

She couldn't even think anymore. All there was was his warm intimidating body pinning her to the cold, dirty ground, and his bruising, demanding hands. All there was was the throbbing between her legs as she wrapped them around him, and all the grief and anger running through her veins and making her spark harshly against her mouth, his body, from the tips of her fingers scratching at his smooth, dipping back. She wanted to let it all out, into him. All of it.

He groaned loudly against her lips as she sparked, his own mouth harsh and demanding against hers. There was no gentle touches or tenderness this time as his hands slid down her body, grabbing her breasts harshly.

He would show her. She wasn't right. She wasn't. He wasn't a tool for Angela or anyone else. It was easy enough for her to judge, she knew who she was and why she was here, for now, Angela's words were all he had to go by. But he would fix that. He would.

Her thighs tightened around him, and she burned his mouth and his hands with a rushing current and a pleased moan, her nipples perked into his palms. She couldn't stop whimpering, both overwhelmed and invigorated by his roughness, biting his tongue and lips and licking the cuts, her nails scratching. He wasn't right. She knew Angela and he didn't. "You're following her around like a big dumb dog, looking for scraps, Gabriel," she murmured against him, her body writhing and every inch of her body buzzing for him, her voice thick with it. "You can just take what you want," she breathed. "Like you took Candice. Like you're taking me. We don't need her. She's just using you. Us."

He bit her tongue, her lips, the taste of her blood only rousing him to continue. His hands were rough as he began to knead her breasts and he knew already he was going to leave bruises on her. "But she might hold the key to who I really am," He hissed angerly, pushing her down harder against the ground as he positioned himself at her entrance. There was something more intense, almost more intimate about being with her in such a violent fashion, unlike before.

She wanted his bruises and his roughness, his demanding weight with a gasp, her toes curling as his tip pressed against her. She reached down to touch her swollen clit, test her wetness and brush her fingers against him, suddenly still and shaking under him and waiting for him to thrust in with a whimper. "We can figure it out together," she whispered, her voice soft and alluring even thought her clenched teeth, her angry eyes. "You're mine, not hers."

He gasped softly as her wet fingers brushed against his erection, causing it to twitch in anticipation. He tightened his grip on her, his fingers pinching at her nipples as he pushed inside of her with one hard thrust. "How? How will we figure it out?" He demanded. Because he knew Angea knew more than she was letting on, he felt it, he just didn't know how to get that information.

She couldn't answer for a moment, letting out a soft cry, her walls clenching as he stroked inside of her, his pinching fingers making her all the more frantic as she writhed her hips into his. "Get your memories. Adam, maybe," she gasped out, a little dizzy from the rush of pleasure.

"The one with the healing blood?" He gasped out, pushing into her once again with a shuddering breath. His mouth dropped down to her neck, biting the skin roughly as he began to work up a rhythm.