Ivy shivered as she leaned back into Wyatt's hand. It was warm. He was warm. How was he so warm? How was she so cold? A second ago, a minute ago, an hour ago her cape and her boots had been more than enough. A flame still flickered in her stomach, but the rest of her was like ice. And so, with one touch, she melted.
For a moment she wondered if something was wrong.
She discarded that thought for more important ones.
Like: god, his hand was big. Big enough to wrap around her throat, if he wanted.
She bit her lip.
She felt her phone vibrate in her pocket. It didn't matter, though, did it?
He was so warm. She wanted to tug him down to the bench with her and she wasn't strong enough to really do that but he'd play along and be on top of her in half a second anyway because that's what boys always did. Did she want that? She did.
God, he even smelled like Bret. That gave her pause, for a moment, but it didn't matter, though, did it? Did anything? His hand was big and warm and callused and felt so familiar and so different at the same time and it was all the same, it was all the same, it was all close enough except he was here and Bret was not and suddenly she was so, so cold.
He was talking, but not to her. Lucas. Lukas? Lukas. Still here. Strange. He'd said something nice, she thought. Not nice enough to balance out his terminal deficit of tolerability, but nice, regardless.
Still. She wanted him to go away now.
"Wyatt, darlin'," she cooed, eyes hooded, lips barely parted, classic really, worked on Bret every time, stop thinking about Bret, but she couldn't, her thoughts were spinning and she couldn't stop them and more than anything she just wanted them to stop. There were ways. Another drink would be nice, but she (stupid, stupid, stupid) hadn't brought one. But there were ways.
She pushed his hoodie aside and ignored the cold immediately biting into the bare skin of her thighs. She felt a little like she was dying, but there were worse things.
She reached up toward him and wrapped a tiny hand around the hem of his tank top. She tugged. Just a little.
"Not close enough."
and i know i need to feel relief
"Well, Fenris, the King of Gossip. We meet again."
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jimmydalad
- Posts: 290
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 3:35 pm
God, this was wrong. This was wrong in so many ways on so many levels. Ivy and Wyatt were in relationships with other people and yet, they were now getting intimate with one another. Ivy, he could sort of understand why. It didn't absolve her entirely, but she was drunk and lonely. She wasn't at her peak of rationality. Wyatt, however, had no excuse. He was perfectly fine taking advantage of the situation and making another "conquest" out of his brother's girlfriend. The term "conquest" alone made Lukas feel slimy, reducing girls down to mere numbers on a tally and as something to be dominated. Wyatt's entitlement disgusted him. Tonight only reaffirmed his utter hatred for the asshole, his actions now overwhelming any positive traits he could've gleaned from his previous actions.
The thing that irritated Lukas the most was that he couldn't do anything to stop it. He wasn't physically strong enough to impose his will like Wyatt could. He wasn't familiar or friendly enough for them to listen to him, even though he knew this was a terrible idea that was going to get both of them screwed in the long run. He didn't even have anyone in his friendship circle that would intersect with Ivy's so that they could save her from herself. Half the time it was like he didn't even exist to the pair, so all he could do was watch while Wyatt got away with being an absolute sleazebag and taking advantage of Ivy in her inebriated state. Stand there and watch as Wyatt got away with so much bullshit that it'd make the toilet jealous.
Lukas glared at Wyatt. Was there much point in him being there anymore? Honestly, no. While he'd love to rip Ivy out of Wyatt's grasp and just run away with her, that wasn't going to happen. Wyatt made it clear he didn't want him there and Ivy certainly was too busy with Wyatt and being drunk to give a shit about him. He let out an exasperated sigh.
"No, of course not. Just, don't do something that you're gonna regret."
There wasn't much else he could say. He knew that Wyatt was never going to listen to his warnings. At least he did it though.
"Hope you have a good night Ivy and that the hangover doesn't suck tomorrow."
And with that, Lukas made his way home. So much for getting any work done on his story concept. As he left, an idea came to him. He made sure that he was a safe distance away and in the darkness. Taking out his phone, he turned on the camera app and turned back to the pair on the bench. Since there was a street light behind the bench, he could still see them sitting there. Turning off the flash to remain hidden, Lukas zoomed in the best he could to make sure he caught the two of them together and began taking pictures.
He made sure to take multiple. Some came out blurry, but others were clear enough that it was clear who the two kids were. He wasn't sure what he was going to do with them yet. The idea came to him more out of spite than anything else, his frustration at his powerlessness fueling him to try and take some control back from Wyatt. Maybe it was unethical of him to do so, but it certainly did make him feel good.
((Lukas Nielson continued in Expanding Your Horizons))
The thing that irritated Lukas the most was that he couldn't do anything to stop it. He wasn't physically strong enough to impose his will like Wyatt could. He wasn't familiar or friendly enough for them to listen to him, even though he knew this was a terrible idea that was going to get both of them screwed in the long run. He didn't even have anyone in his friendship circle that would intersect with Ivy's so that they could save her from herself. Half the time it was like he didn't even exist to the pair, so all he could do was watch while Wyatt got away with being an absolute sleazebag and taking advantage of Ivy in her inebriated state. Stand there and watch as Wyatt got away with so much bullshit that it'd make the toilet jealous.
Lukas glared at Wyatt. Was there much point in him being there anymore? Honestly, no. While he'd love to rip Ivy out of Wyatt's grasp and just run away with her, that wasn't going to happen. Wyatt made it clear he didn't want him there and Ivy certainly was too busy with Wyatt and being drunk to give a shit about him. He let out an exasperated sigh.
"No, of course not. Just, don't do something that you're gonna regret."
There wasn't much else he could say. He knew that Wyatt was never going to listen to his warnings. At least he did it though.
"Hope you have a good night Ivy and that the hangover doesn't suck tomorrow."
And with that, Lukas made his way home. So much for getting any work done on his story concept. As he left, an idea came to him. He made sure that he was a safe distance away and in the darkness. Taking out his phone, he turned on the camera app and turned back to the pair on the bench. Since there was a street light behind the bench, he could still see them sitting there. Turning off the flash to remain hidden, Lukas zoomed in the best he could to make sure he caught the two of them together and began taking pictures.
He made sure to take multiple. Some came out blurry, but others were clear enough that it was clear who the two kids were. He wasn't sure what he was going to do with them yet. The idea came to him more out of spite than anything else, his frustration at his powerlessness fueling him to try and take some control back from Wyatt. Maybe it was unethical of him to do so, but it certainly did make him feel good.
((Lukas Nielson continued in Expanding Your Horizons))
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MK Kilmarnock
- Posts: 1931
- Joined: Fri Aug 10, 2018 5:28 am
- Location: On one of the coasts, generally
Oh good lord, did that little faggot ever shut up?
Whatever. He was gone now. It was one thing to put up with creepy autistic fucks like Bondage Kid within the lawful confines of high school, where they were all but forced to occupy the same building for over seven hours a day. Wyatt accepted that lot in life years ago, and made the most of it. But to waste his time in public was another matter. But again, Cockring Balltorture had finally fucked off to fantasize about being spanked by mommy, and that just left him and Ivy.
Man, and the state of Ivy. How she clung to him, calling his name, calling him 'darlin',' and it wasn't a stretch of the imagination to take those hands that were pulling on his tank top and instead having them slide up over his abs to admire just how much work he put into his body, coming back down, and dancing underneath the button. In fact, his pants were starting to feel just a little tight thinking about it. His truck was nearby... Wyatt said he'd take her home, and he most certainly would hold true to his word. She'd only have to go into his truck, nowhere else, but nothing was said about her staying in the front. Or fully clothed. Or without a dick in her ass.
See, that's why people had to be SPECIFIC about these things.
Oh, and he loved thinking about it. Fuck, he even knew what her orgasms sounded like... thanks again, Bret. Next time, do her face down in a pillow or something. Some people are trying to jack off to Brazilian chicks wrestling in peace, you know?
"Not close enough, eh?" Wyatt leaned in, pushing his fingers through Ivy's hair with more than passing affection. He resisted the urge to yank. His other hand reached for her legs, reached under then and slid under her bottom. Then, with almost no effort whatsover, he scooped her up by her bottom and behind her back, holding her bridal-style.
"How about this?" Wyatt asked, making a quarter of the motions to dip and pretend like he was going to hurl her like a sack of flour straight across the footbridge and into the freezing water below. That would have been funny, just to psyche her out and make her thing he was really going to throw her, but he remembered the copious amounts of alcohol in her and, if he remembered Ivy's tastes, whatever she had going on in her stomach could stain his top if he wasn't careful. With a rare display of restraint, Wyatt instead fell back on the bench, which creaked in protest under the sudden deposit of weight.
"So," he said with a content sigh, yanking part of his discarded sweatshirt out from under his butt where it had caused some discomfort. "What's the deal? Is my evil twin being an asshole?"
Whatever. He was gone now. It was one thing to put up with creepy autistic fucks like Bondage Kid within the lawful confines of high school, where they were all but forced to occupy the same building for over seven hours a day. Wyatt accepted that lot in life years ago, and made the most of it. But to waste his time in public was another matter. But again, Cockring Balltorture had finally fucked off to fantasize about being spanked by mommy, and that just left him and Ivy.
Man, and the state of Ivy. How she clung to him, calling his name, calling him 'darlin',' and it wasn't a stretch of the imagination to take those hands that were pulling on his tank top and instead having them slide up over his abs to admire just how much work he put into his body, coming back down, and dancing underneath the button. In fact, his pants were starting to feel just a little tight thinking about it. His truck was nearby... Wyatt said he'd take her home, and he most certainly would hold true to his word. She'd only have to go into his truck, nowhere else, but nothing was said about her staying in the front. Or fully clothed. Or without a dick in her ass.
See, that's why people had to be SPECIFIC about these things.
Oh, and he loved thinking about it. Fuck, he even knew what her orgasms sounded like... thanks again, Bret. Next time, do her face down in a pillow or something. Some people are trying to jack off to Brazilian chicks wrestling in peace, you know?
"Not close enough, eh?" Wyatt leaned in, pushing his fingers through Ivy's hair with more than passing affection. He resisted the urge to yank. His other hand reached for her legs, reached under then and slid under her bottom. Then, with almost no effort whatsover, he scooped her up by her bottom and behind her back, holding her bridal-style.
"How about this?" Wyatt asked, making a quarter of the motions to dip and pretend like he was going to hurl her like a sack of flour straight across the footbridge and into the freezing water below. That would have been funny, just to psyche her out and make her thing he was really going to throw her, but he remembered the copious amounts of alcohol in her and, if he remembered Ivy's tastes, whatever she had going on in her stomach could stain his top if he wasn't careful. With a rare display of restraint, Wyatt instead fell back on the bench, which creaked in protest under the sudden deposit of weight.
"So," he said with a content sigh, yanking part of his discarded sweatshirt out from under his butt where it had caused some discomfort. "What's the deal? Is my evil twin being an asshole?"
Ivy squeaked in surprise as Wyatt scooped her up, quickly wrapping her arms around his neck- a more difficult feat than she'd expected, considering his breadth and how short her reach was. She felt practically weightless in his arms, and she curled in close, closer still when he sat down and she felt like she could breathe again, at least a little. She laid her head on his shoulder. Her lips were real, real distractingly close to his neck. God, it was like sitting on a giant space heater. A giant space heater, she couldn't help but notice, that was slowly getting harder beneath her. She smiled to herself. Boys were so easy. Bless them.
There were a lot of things she could do with this. For the moment, though, she was surprisingly content. Maybe the sudden warmth was getting to her, or maybe it was just that, with her eyes closed, she could pretend. She knew Bret way too intimately to not be able to tell the difference, of course, but she could pretend.
"What's the deal?"
Yeah, that was the question, wasn't it.
What was the deal?
Ivy's eyes fluttered open; she was so close her eyelashes brushed against his skin. Her head turned briefly toward where she knew someone else had been moments before. That kid. The one. His name was escaping her now. He'd been nice. He was gone now, though. They were well and truly alone. That meant... it meant a lot of things, but it meant she could speak, if she could keep her words together. They'd been piling up behind her lips since they'd asked her why she was here alone.
"S'not... no. He's just busy." She frowned. "M'supposed t'be important to him. Right? Am I doin' some- something wrong?"
Her head was spinning. Should she be saying this? She probably shouldn't be saying this. She tried to get closer. She wanted to melt into him. She wanted not to care.
"S... sorry. Ramblin'. This... s'nice."
There were a lot of things she could do with this. For the moment, though, she was surprisingly content. Maybe the sudden warmth was getting to her, or maybe it was just that, with her eyes closed, she could pretend. She knew Bret way too intimately to not be able to tell the difference, of course, but she could pretend.
"What's the deal?"
Yeah, that was the question, wasn't it.
What was the deal?
Ivy's eyes fluttered open; she was so close her eyelashes brushed against his skin. Her head turned briefly toward where she knew someone else had been moments before. That kid. The one. His name was escaping her now. He'd been nice. He was gone now, though. They were well and truly alone. That meant... it meant a lot of things, but it meant she could speak, if she could keep her words together. They'd been piling up behind her lips since they'd asked her why she was here alone.
"S'not... no. He's just busy." She frowned. "M'supposed t'be important to him. Right? Am I doin' some- something wrong?"
Her head was spinning. Should she be saying this? She probably shouldn't be saying this. She tried to get closer. She wanted to melt into him. She wanted not to care.
"S... sorry. Ramblin'. This... s'nice."
"Well, Fenris, the King of Gossip. We meet again."
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MK Kilmarnock
- Posts: 1931
- Joined: Fri Aug 10, 2018 5:28 am
- Location: On one of the coasts, generally
Ah fuck. Ah fuck ah fuck ah fuck it was so hard to not just make out with her right now. Her ass felt good the way she was draped across him to push on his lap just right. Ivy was so trusting and, it seemed, so wanting right now. Maybe screwing her was out of the question, whether it was in the bed of his truck or right here on the bench. But would it hurt anybody's sensibilities if maybe a couple fingers lost their way up her skirt? Ivy certainly wouldn't mind in the slightest. And what were the odds of Bret finding out, anyway? And if he did... what? He'd probably get a broken nose. Noses heal.
But that speech of Ivy's...
Oh. Right. Ivy was drunk. And drunk meant easy, and it wasn't like he hadn't done a drunk girl before... but generally he got drunk together with the girl? Or like, the girl was drunk at a party, and when you're drunk at a party it's normally because you're looking to get some later on in the night, no matter what the SJW-types tried to tell you. But when you were looking to drink to forget about your sadness and maybe getting a little confused about whether to fuck your boyfriend or his even hotter brother...
What was more, in the inevitable squabble with Bret that would ensue, word would probably pass on to their mother that Ivy was in a less than stable state emotionally, and that would be 'taking advantage of a lady'. Wyatt heard it in Mom's voice and pushed his mouth to one cheek in a frown. Fuck... that killed a boner harder than picturing Bondage Kid getting a spanking. Lips stayed away from lips, fingers and thumbs stayed away from the all-too-alluring undersides of miniskirts, and boners wilted just a tiny bit in disappointment.
"Nah. You're not doin', like... anything wrong. Bret's had a real big stick up his ass lately and doesn't wanna go out much." He pressed his arm into her back, careful not to squeeze her guts out like a damn tube of toothpaste. "I could set him straight for ya. He digs you, he really does. We could really fuck him up - really shock him, like, if you came back to my place?" Wyatt wasn't sure if that was necessarily the best plan, but he was thinking for safety; taking Ivy straight to Bret was the best way in his eyes to ensure that Ivy got home without having to walk funny the next day. Not that he didn't have any self control, just...
Just... okay, fuck, it was really hard to control himself when she was literally all over him like this.
"Let's go. My place or yours, I don't care, but let's get out of the cold, huh?"
But that speech of Ivy's...
Oh. Right. Ivy was drunk. And drunk meant easy, and it wasn't like he hadn't done a drunk girl before... but generally he got drunk together with the girl? Or like, the girl was drunk at a party, and when you're drunk at a party it's normally because you're looking to get some later on in the night, no matter what the SJW-types tried to tell you. But when you were looking to drink to forget about your sadness and maybe getting a little confused about whether to fuck your boyfriend or his even hotter brother...
What was more, in the inevitable squabble with Bret that would ensue, word would probably pass on to their mother that Ivy was in a less than stable state emotionally, and that would be 'taking advantage of a lady'. Wyatt heard it in Mom's voice and pushed his mouth to one cheek in a frown. Fuck... that killed a boner harder than picturing Bondage Kid getting a spanking. Lips stayed away from lips, fingers and thumbs stayed away from the all-too-alluring undersides of miniskirts, and boners wilted just a tiny bit in disappointment.
"Nah. You're not doin', like... anything wrong. Bret's had a real big stick up his ass lately and doesn't wanna go out much." He pressed his arm into her back, careful not to squeeze her guts out like a damn tube of toothpaste. "I could set him straight for ya. He digs you, he really does. We could really fuck him up - really shock him, like, if you came back to my place?" Wyatt wasn't sure if that was necessarily the best plan, but he was thinking for safety; taking Ivy straight to Bret was the best way in his eyes to ensure that Ivy got home without having to walk funny the next day. Not that he didn't have any self control, just...
Just... okay, fuck, it was really hard to control himself when she was literally all over him like this.
"Let's go. My place or yours, I don't care, but let's get out of the cold, huh?"
Ivy's eyes kept drifting closed.
She wondered, briefly, what was on his mind. Okay, she knew what was on his mind, because he was Wyatt Carter and he was nothing if not predictable, but that didn't explain all of the wandering his hands weren't doing, or how his lips hadn't cleared the few inches toward hers. Then again, why hadn't she made a move? It'd be all too easy. "If you want something, take it" was the Langley family motto, or near enough to it. But her limbs felt like putty, and when she lifted her head and brushed her hair out of her face, properly meeting his gaze- he wasn't Bret, and of course he wasn't Bret, but she still felt like something was squeezing her chest. Maybe it was guilt. Maybe she was just tired.
Tired? She didn't want to be tired. It was still early. Wasn't it? She'd lost track of time an eternity ago.
"Mmmnn." It was a noncommittal noise, leaning toward agreement. "S'good plan." Ivy wasn't sure why she found his words so comforting. She supposed it was because Wyatt was more likely than anyone to know how Bret actually felt. Or maybe it was because Wyatt was the most to gain if Bret was mad at her. It wasn't exactly a major secret that she kinda had a thing for him, and Wyatt... well, again. Nothing if not predictable. Though he might have a girlfriend or something? She was coming up blank, but with the way her night was going that wasn't much of a surprise.
She tried to curl in closer, but there wasn't any closer to get. Short of getting under his shirt, she supposed. She was tempted. Too much effort, though. The heat was clouding her head too much for her to do much of anything. Wyatt wanted to leave, and they should leave, but a tiny whine of displeasure escaped her anyway. Her eyes met his again- eyelids heavy, hair mussed. Maybe she was just too hideous to fuck at the moment, she thought idly.
"'Kay. Carry me?" It was more of a command than a request, though her voice stayed silky sweet. She wasn't sure she had the strength to walk, and anyway, she didn't want to leave Wyatt's arms any sooner than absolutely necessary.
She wondered, briefly, what was on his mind. Okay, she knew what was on his mind, because he was Wyatt Carter and he was nothing if not predictable, but that didn't explain all of the wandering his hands weren't doing, or how his lips hadn't cleared the few inches toward hers. Then again, why hadn't she made a move? It'd be all too easy. "If you want something, take it" was the Langley family motto, or near enough to it. But her limbs felt like putty, and when she lifted her head and brushed her hair out of her face, properly meeting his gaze- he wasn't Bret, and of course he wasn't Bret, but she still felt like something was squeezing her chest. Maybe it was guilt. Maybe she was just tired.
Tired? She didn't want to be tired. It was still early. Wasn't it? She'd lost track of time an eternity ago.
"Mmmnn." It was a noncommittal noise, leaning toward agreement. "S'good plan." Ivy wasn't sure why she found his words so comforting. She supposed it was because Wyatt was more likely than anyone to know how Bret actually felt. Or maybe it was because Wyatt was the most to gain if Bret was mad at her. It wasn't exactly a major secret that she kinda had a thing for him, and Wyatt... well, again. Nothing if not predictable. Though he might have a girlfriend or something? She was coming up blank, but with the way her night was going that wasn't much of a surprise.
She tried to curl in closer, but there wasn't any closer to get. Short of getting under his shirt, she supposed. She was tempted. Too much effort, though. The heat was clouding her head too much for her to do much of anything. Wyatt wanted to leave, and they should leave, but a tiny whine of displeasure escaped her anyway. Her eyes met his again- eyelids heavy, hair mussed. Maybe she was just too hideous to fuck at the moment, she thought idly.
"'Kay. Carry me?" It was more of a command than a request, though her voice stayed silky sweet. She wasn't sure she had the strength to walk, and anyway, she didn't want to leave Wyatt's arms any sooner than absolutely necessary.
"Well, Fenris, the King of Gossip. We meet again."
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MK Kilmarnock
- Posts: 1931
- Joined: Fri Aug 10, 2018 5:28 am
- Location: On one of the coasts, generally
Ivy hadn't given an answer to his question.
Well, that was a real pain in the ass. If she weren't dead tired, and drunk, and kinda cold to the touch... alright, considering all of those things, she had the makings of a real excuse to be unclear in her decisions. One thing was for sure, and that's that they were getting the fuck out of dodge. Not one to forget his possessions, Wyatt reached over with the arm that wasn't cradling Ivy's upper body. Letting her legs drop momentarily was hardly any substantial price to pay to retrieve his sweatshirt. He draped the article over Ivy's body like before, both a handy way of holding it and a method of keeping her warm.
"Yeah. No problem," he muttered quietly, slipping the hand back under her legs. Ah, fuck it, let's grab a little bit of that ass too, it was the most efficient way to hold her, and it wasn't like he was actually getting fresh or anything. If the opportunity to play a little guilt-free grab ass came his way, he wasn't just going to let it pass him by. Standing up with Ivy in his arms was only slightly more effort than standing up with a tray of nachos; to him, she may as well have weighed the same. Wyatt began the trek back to his vehicle, probably anywhere from three to five minutes' walking away in the upper levels of the parking lot away from the river footbridges and adjoining streets.
While making his way back to his truck, Wyatt afforded looks down at Ivy every now and then. Heh. She actually looked pretty cute, with her arms stretched up like that and clinging to him. Made carrying her a little less of a chore, too, because even though she had to be less than 100 pounds soaking wet and holding a brick, walking with his arms outstretched for nearly five minutes was going to make his elbows burn up just a little bit. Mercifully, the two of them arrived that their destination before Wyatt felt too strained, and he carefully shifted all of Ivy's weight to his left arm in order to fish around for his keys. "Hey, time to wake up," he muttered, manually unlocking the door to his muddy-red 1996 Ford F-250. It wasn't the fanciest truck in town, and hardly held a candle to Bret's Road Runner, but it did the job it needed to do. Could probably fuckin' run over the Road Runner if he really set his mind to it. The way he figured, Wyatt would much rather be high off the road and have the utility of a truck bed anyway.
Still holding Ivy, all propped up on that one arm like a trophy girl, Wyatt popped open the driver's side door and pushed up on the latch, unlocking the far door. Walking around the front, he pulled the shotgun door open and carefully set out depositing Ivy on the leather seat, Carhartt hoodie and all. Maybe he'd just gotten used to her scent, but he couldn't really smell the liquor anymore. Maybe she'd sobered up?
"How ya feeling?"
Well, that was a real pain in the ass. If she weren't dead tired, and drunk, and kinda cold to the touch... alright, considering all of those things, she had the makings of a real excuse to be unclear in her decisions. One thing was for sure, and that's that they were getting the fuck out of dodge. Not one to forget his possessions, Wyatt reached over with the arm that wasn't cradling Ivy's upper body. Letting her legs drop momentarily was hardly any substantial price to pay to retrieve his sweatshirt. He draped the article over Ivy's body like before, both a handy way of holding it and a method of keeping her warm.
"Yeah. No problem," he muttered quietly, slipping the hand back under her legs. Ah, fuck it, let's grab a little bit of that ass too, it was the most efficient way to hold her, and it wasn't like he was actually getting fresh or anything. If the opportunity to play a little guilt-free grab ass came his way, he wasn't just going to let it pass him by. Standing up with Ivy in his arms was only slightly more effort than standing up with a tray of nachos; to him, she may as well have weighed the same. Wyatt began the trek back to his vehicle, probably anywhere from three to five minutes' walking away in the upper levels of the parking lot away from the river footbridges and adjoining streets.
While making his way back to his truck, Wyatt afforded looks down at Ivy every now and then. Heh. She actually looked pretty cute, with her arms stretched up like that and clinging to him. Made carrying her a little less of a chore, too, because even though she had to be less than 100 pounds soaking wet and holding a brick, walking with his arms outstretched for nearly five minutes was going to make his elbows burn up just a little bit. Mercifully, the two of them arrived that their destination before Wyatt felt too strained, and he carefully shifted all of Ivy's weight to his left arm in order to fish around for his keys. "Hey, time to wake up," he muttered, manually unlocking the door to his muddy-red 1996 Ford F-250. It wasn't the fanciest truck in town, and hardly held a candle to Bret's Road Runner, but it did the job it needed to do. Could probably fuckin' run over the Road Runner if he really set his mind to it. The way he figured, Wyatt would much rather be high off the road and have the utility of a truck bed anyway.
Still holding Ivy, all propped up on that one arm like a trophy girl, Wyatt popped open the driver's side door and pushed up on the latch, unlocking the far door. Walking around the front, he pulled the shotgun door open and carefully set out depositing Ivy on the leather seat, Carhartt hoodie and all. Maybe he'd just gotten used to her scent, but he couldn't really smell the liquor anymore. Maybe she'd sobered up?
"How ya feeling?"
It was quiet, then.
Okay, Ivy squeaked again when her legs dropped, and made a tiny noise perhaps best not described in polite company at Wyatt's hand groping for a hold under her, but then there was near-silence stretching into eternity, punctuated only by footsteps, the sound of the water rushing beside them, and the repetitive buzz of her phone in the pocket of her cape. She didn't bother trying to keep her eyes open. She was vaguely aware that her consciousness was flagging with every moment, though the slight bump of every step kept startling her back awake. If not for those sudden starts, she'd feel like she was floating.
This night had not gone as expected, she mused. She'd made an incredibly amateur mistake, for one. Despite her near constant drinking Ivy was quite cautious and as a result surprisingly hangover-resistant, especially on weekdays; part of being image-conscious was in being careful with your vices. Remembering what had happened before she'd left the house felt like trying to open her eyes underwater, though. She could consider her own mistakes in the morning... in the morning. What time was it? Maybe if it was early enough she could crash for way too long and be okay when she got up? Anything could happen.
There were more pressing things to think about, anyway. Like the warmth around her, and strong arms carrying her, and god, what about Wyatt? He'd blindsided her by doing nothing more than being decent, and okay, she'd known he was decent, but this...
Ivy woke up, suddenly, sitting pretty riding shotgun in Wyatt's oversized truck, and she took a moment to figure out how the hell she'd gotten here.
She was feeling okay. Tired. So tired. Opening her mouth to speak felt like a chore. She laid back against the seat, turning her head to face Wyatt. He was a human-shaped blob. She wanted to reach out to him. When did he get so far away?
"M'okay. Th... thanks. You're sweet."
Her smile was almost weirdly genuine.
Her eyes fluttered closed again, and she was gone.
>> Ivy Langley continued in on a quick sick rampage
Okay, Ivy squeaked again when her legs dropped, and made a tiny noise perhaps best not described in polite company at Wyatt's hand groping for a hold under her, but then there was near-silence stretching into eternity, punctuated only by footsteps, the sound of the water rushing beside them, and the repetitive buzz of her phone in the pocket of her cape. She didn't bother trying to keep her eyes open. She was vaguely aware that her consciousness was flagging with every moment, though the slight bump of every step kept startling her back awake. If not for those sudden starts, she'd feel like she was floating.
This night had not gone as expected, she mused. She'd made an incredibly amateur mistake, for one. Despite her near constant drinking Ivy was quite cautious and as a result surprisingly hangover-resistant, especially on weekdays; part of being image-conscious was in being careful with your vices. Remembering what had happened before she'd left the house felt like trying to open her eyes underwater, though. She could consider her own mistakes in the morning... in the morning. What time was it? Maybe if it was early enough she could crash for way too long and be okay when she got up? Anything could happen.
There were more pressing things to think about, anyway. Like the warmth around her, and strong arms carrying her, and god, what about Wyatt? He'd blindsided her by doing nothing more than being decent, and okay, she'd known he was decent, but this...
Ivy woke up, suddenly, sitting pretty riding shotgun in Wyatt's oversized truck, and she took a moment to figure out how the hell she'd gotten here.
She was feeling okay. Tired. So tired. Opening her mouth to speak felt like a chore. She laid back against the seat, turning her head to face Wyatt. He was a human-shaped blob. She wanted to reach out to him. When did he get so far away?
"M'okay. Th... thanks. You're sweet."
Her smile was almost weirdly genuine.
Her eyes fluttered closed again, and she was gone.
>> Ivy Langley continued in on a quick sick rampage
"Well, Fenris, the King of Gossip. We meet again."
-
MK Kilmarnock
- Posts: 1931
- Joined: Fri Aug 10, 2018 5:28 am
- Location: On one of the coasts, generally
The seat creaked when Wyatt came down on it with the usual lack of care, and while he tried not to slam it as loudly as possible, there just wasn't any way to quietly shut a truck door. It didn't really seem to matter. When he looked over to the girl he'd picked up off that bench, she hardly seemed bothered. He started the truck and pulled it into reverse, draping his arm behind Ivy's seat in order to look over his shoulder. Didn't seem to be a lot of traffic coming in or out, but it was good to be safe, lest his dad get on his ass about another wreck.
"Alright, Ives. Where to?"
Nothing.
"Ivy?"
He looked down. She was out like a light. Wyatt sighed and shook his head... he guessed it couldn't be helped.
"Your place it is." He backed out of the one and a half spaces he'd taken up parking his truck, threw it in gear, and tore off down the road.
((Wyatt Carter continued elsewhere))
"Alright, Ives. Where to?"
Nothing.
"Ivy?"
He looked down. She was out like a light. Wyatt sighed and shook his head... he guessed it couldn't be helped.
"Your place it is." He backed out of the one and a half spaces he'd taken up parking his truck, threw it in gear, and tore off down the road.
((Wyatt Carter continued elsewhere))