It's not her cabin, and it will never be her cabin; she has her reasons, but though they are private, they're not difficult to figure out. She doesn't want to feel, doesn't want to think, just wants - something simple. Something without strings.
That's not what this is - there are few others on the ship she could choose, in fact, that would have any strings at all, let alone more - but she's not thinking about that.
"Come in," she calls, half because she remembers when Godric stood outside her door, half because she doesn't want to get up from where she's already lounging back on the bed in the empty cabin. She's been drinking, she hasn't been sleeping, and she is well aware that she is a mess.
But she's a hot mess, and even if she doesn't have any of her old cosmetics or dresses or heels, even if she has basically tied her thick hair up out of her face, she knows how to sit up and smile. "Didn't waste any time, did you?" she asks, pleased.
He might play the oblivious card from time to time -- who doesn't? -- but it's impossible to miss how troubled she looks and Eric knows why, or at least partially why. Whatever it was that just happened, did a lot of damage to a lot of people. And he can definitely respect the need to get lost in something else for awhile.
Eric steps through and closes the door. He's in a black t'shirt and dark jeans, nothing remotely close to the usual business casual that he opts for. There's a cursory glance around the room before his lips quirk into a grin and he looks at Rosita.
"Were you looking for fashionably late?" Eric starts, moving to the side of the bed she's on and lowering to sit on the edge. He crosses an arm over her legs and presses it palm down into the plush of the blanket and leans forward a little. "Well, lucky for you, I'm hardly ever late for anything."
She still has some bruising here and there, still has some scratches and a split in one of her lips and one of her arms is wrapped - but she's come through more or less in one physical piece. She would not, as it happens, take kindly to being asked about anything else.
She's wearing a tanktop under an open button down and flannel pants, her boots already off and on the floor nearby; her knife is sticking out of one of them, readily within range with little enough effort. None of it is new. All of it is comfortable.
Not the best way, perhaps, to seduce someone but she remains confident and she watches him as he takes in the otherwise basic, unadorned cabin, and blatantly watches the way he moves as he settles over her. She smiles.
"Lucky, lucky me," she answers, leaning forward a bit to bring them that much closer, reaching up to trace a finger down his arm appreciatively. "Or are you on a time limit? Somewhere else to be, and just squeezing me in for the moment?"
She won't be needing the knife for anything, not where he's concerned, though it seems everyone has an issue with trust on the Barge for whatever reason. Him included. Especially since he's entirely vulnerable to attack without the abilities he uses to protect himself. But judging by the look in Rosita's eye, that's not the kind energy she's looking to channel.
Eric shakes his head, using his other hand to finger the edge of her buttoned shirt and holds it open to look at the beautiful curve of one breast under the tank top. "I'm here for as long as you need the distraction."
He moves the over-shirt off to the side until a bare shoulder is exposed and leans in to brush to the top of it, pausing only for a moment to add, "Or until sunrise. Whatever comes first."
The knife isn't not for him if he tries something she doesn't like, but it's more a force of habit - and, very recently, she's proven to be justified in that. She's proven to be justified in quite a lot, and it's all still settling.
She doesn't need any of it for this, though, just a willing partner. Just someone interested in a warm body and giving her access to theirs, give or take. Her smile curls deeper as he reaches out to her and she does nothing to stop him, even straightening up a bit more so that what there is of her chest is a bit more prominent, a bit more accessible for him.
"So accommodating," she hums, even giggling a little. Guys used to like her dumb. At least she understood them then, and she becomes bolder herself now, laying her palm against his chest on the trail down from his arm.
"No need to be shy." She leans up, hesitates only a moment before offering a kiss, short and sweet and experimental. She has no experience whatsoever with vampires, but: "And no need to be careful. I won't break."
Eric has never been a patient man, and when there's something he wants, he tends to take it greedily. So, it's no surprise that at the very moment Rosita presses her lips to his that he's taken the hand that was down on the bed and secures a hold on her hip and slides her closer, cutting off her words with another kiss, deeper this time.
As a vampire, there's nothing that stands out that he is. The way he tastes on her tongue is intoxicating, in a way that's almost spellbinding. If she's looking to forget, she called the right person.
"Hm," he sounds contently, shoving the buttoned shirt off one shoulder and then the other. He wants that access to her. All of her. Right now. "That's good to hear. Because I have no patience for clothes."
Eric is very much a fan of being skin to skin and isn't opposed to tearing things off if he has to.
Between that attraction, and the drink, and the exhaustion, and her genuine craving to thi k of nothing, she doesn't stand a chance. She doesn't resist at all but reaches to pull him closer, too, when he draws her in and she's meeting him every bit as enthusiastically until she has to pull away to breathe.
"Don't you rip my fucking clothes," she warns - old practicality, hardwon and imprinted - but she resolves it for them by shrugging her outer shirt the rest of the way off, then stripping her tank top out of the way after. She's not wearing a bra, and there's nothing shy about the way she reaches for his shirt, too.
Then she's kissing him again, drawing her legs under her so she can push up closer to him.
He grunts in protest. Rosita can demand what she wants, but Eric is defiant, through and through. Maybe it doesn't happen this time, but if there's a next and there's enough tension between them, Eric would rather apologize after then ask permission first. To him, there's nothing more satisfying than literally ripping all manner of offensive clothing off someone if it means getting to what's underneath faster.
"You'll be too busy to notice," he points out, voice low and promising, flashing a lecherous smile before it disappears against her mouth again, chasing her tongue and drawing the air from her lungs slowly.
After his shirt is comes off, hands press flat on her hips to slip her loose fitting pants off her waist. But rather fumble awkwardly with getting them the rest of the way off, he winds an arm across her lower back to lift her high enough to move her to lay across the bed. It gives Rosita the room to kick them off and him the space to set down a path of kisses from her collarbone and down over one breast.
"Put your mouth where your - mm," she begins to challenge in return, but she lets herself be cut off, lets herself be drawn in by the deepening kiss and the way she relaxes into it with her entire body.
She's light, and this means she has had no shortage of partners able to move her more or less where they want her on a whim, and in day to day life she hates it; in bed, though, it sends a thrill of pleasure, of want, straight to her belly and she laughs, makes no effort whatsoever to stop him.
She does kick her pants off, and while he explores her neck, her chest, she shivers deliciously but feels her way confidently around the fastenings of his jeans - delaying herself only to slip her fingers beneath the waistband and crook them, pulling her nails lightly up the muscles of his lower abdomen.
"I suppose that's a nice enough way to start," she allows, but she's practically purring. "Maybe too - nice."
That's his cue to take things to the next level and though she can't feel the smile that spreads across her skin, Rosita most definitely will feel it. At her words, he grazes his teeth but doesn't bite and hums a thoughtful note.
"Ohhh, you like things lively, do you?" Eric questions, voice low and wolfish. He hisses in pleasure at her nails while his waist twists and he wiggles enough to get out of his pants. Straightening slightly, between her legs, he runs fingers upwards along the inside of one of her thighs. Instead of linger there, he waits for her to shiver in need before he plunges deep and fast into her. "Better?"
She shivers impatiently under the tease of his teeth, running right along that razors edge where she's afraid for him to bite her - not just him, but anyone - but she craved it once, too.
It's her dirty little secret: she likes it better when they're dangerous.
"I like to know what I'm feeli- fuck!" she gasps, coming halfway up off the bed as she begins to protest his teasing only for him to do that. He'll find her plenty wet already, muscles tightening around his fingers, but in the next moment her swear has melted into a moan and her fingernails are digging into his shoulders.
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no subject
That's not what this is - there are few others on the ship she could choose, in fact, that would have any strings at all, let alone more - but she's not thinking about that.
"Come in," she calls, half because she remembers when Godric stood outside her door, half because she doesn't want to get up from where she's already lounging back on the bed in the empty cabin. She's been drinking, she hasn't been sleeping, and she is well aware that she is a mess.
But she's a hot mess, and even if she doesn't have any of her old cosmetics or dresses or heels, even if she has basically tied her thick hair up out of her face, she knows how to sit up and smile. "Didn't waste any time, did you?" she asks, pleased.
no subject
Eric steps through and closes the door. He's in a black t'shirt and dark jeans, nothing remotely close to the usual business casual that he opts for. There's a cursory glance around the room before his lips quirk into a grin and he looks at Rosita.
"Were you looking for fashionably late?" Eric starts, moving to the side of the bed she's on and lowering to sit on the edge. He crosses an arm over her legs and presses it palm down into the plush of the blanket and leans forward a little. "Well, lucky for you, I'm hardly ever late for anything."
no subject
She's wearing a tanktop under an open button down and flannel pants, her boots already off and on the floor nearby; her knife is sticking out of one of them, readily within range with little enough effort. None of it is new. All of it is comfortable.
Not the best way, perhaps, to seduce someone but she remains confident and she watches him as he takes in the otherwise basic, unadorned cabin, and blatantly watches the way he moves as he settles over her. She smiles.
"Lucky, lucky me," she answers, leaning forward a bit to bring them that much closer, reaching up to trace a finger down his arm appreciatively. "Or are you on a time limit? Somewhere else to be, and just squeezing me in for the moment?"
no subject
Eric shakes his head, using his other hand to finger the edge of her buttoned shirt and holds it open to look at the beautiful curve of one breast under the tank top. "I'm here for as long as you need the distraction."
He moves the over-shirt off to the side until a bare shoulder is exposed and leans in to brush to the top of it, pausing only for a moment to add, "Or until sunrise. Whatever comes first."
no subject
She doesn't need any of it for this, though, just a willing partner. Just someone interested in a warm body and giving her access to theirs, give or take. Her smile curls deeper as he reaches out to her and she does nothing to stop him, even straightening up a bit more so that what there is of her chest is a bit more prominent, a bit more accessible for him.
"So accommodating," she hums, even giggling a little. Guys used to like her dumb. At least she understood them then, and she becomes bolder herself now, laying her palm against his chest on the trail down from his arm.
"No need to be shy." She leans up, hesitates only a moment before offering a kiss, short and sweet and experimental. She has no experience whatsoever with vampires, but: "And no need to be careful. I won't break."
no subject
As a vampire, there's nothing that stands out that he is. The way he tastes on her tongue is intoxicating, in a way that's almost spellbinding. If she's looking to forget, she called the right person.
"Hm," he sounds contently, shoving the buttoned shirt off one shoulder and then the other. He wants that access to her. All of her. Right now. "That's good to hear. Because I have no patience for clothes."
Eric is very much a fan of being skin to skin and isn't opposed to tearing things off if he has to.
no subject
"Don't you rip my fucking clothes," she warns - old practicality, hardwon and imprinted - but she resolves it for them by shrugging her outer shirt the rest of the way off, then stripping her tank top out of the way after. She's not wearing a bra, and there's nothing shy about the way she reaches for his shirt, too.
Then she's kissing him again, drawing her legs under her so she can push up closer to him.
no subject
"You'll be too busy to notice," he points out, voice low and promising, flashing a lecherous smile before it disappears against her mouth again, chasing her tongue and drawing the air from her lungs slowly.
After his shirt is comes off, hands press flat on her hips to slip her loose fitting pants off her waist. But rather fumble awkwardly with getting them the rest of the way off, he winds an arm across her lower back to lift her high enough to move her to lay across the bed. It gives Rosita the room to kick them off and him the space to set down a path of kisses from her collarbone and down over one breast.
no subject
She's light, and this means she has had no shortage of partners able to move her more or less where they want her on a whim, and in day to day life she hates it; in bed, though, it sends a thrill of pleasure, of want, straight to her belly and she laughs, makes no effort whatsoever to stop him.
She does kick her pants off, and while he explores her neck, her chest, she shivers deliciously but feels her way confidently around the fastenings of his jeans - delaying herself only to slip her fingers beneath the waistband and crook them, pulling her nails lightly up the muscles of his lower abdomen.
"I suppose that's a nice enough way to start," she allows, but she's practically purring. "Maybe too - nice."
no subject
"Ohhh, you like things lively, do you?" Eric questions, voice low and wolfish. He hisses in pleasure at her nails while his waist twists and he wiggles enough to get out of his pants. Straightening slightly, between her legs, he runs fingers upwards along the inside of one of her thighs. Instead of linger there, he waits for her to shiver in need before he plunges deep and fast into her. "Better?"
no subject
It's her dirty little secret: she likes it better when they're dangerous.
"I like to know what I'm feeli- fuck!" she gasps, coming halfway up off the bed as she begins to protest his teasing only for him to do that. He'll find her plenty wet already, muscles tightening around his fingers, but in the next moment her swear has melted into a moan and her fingernails are digging into his shoulders.
"Keep going," she breathes, voice ragged, eager.