AIM Log between Novablu & CutMeCoffee
The day was going ...Hell no it wasn't. The day was stalled and boring. Absolutely nothing to do with a side of boring. That's how Phoebe felt right now. The gray tabby pushed her blond and pink hair out of her eyes and gave an irritated growl. Even the damned heater in this apartment was busted.
"Stupid human built machine," she muttered under her breath, looking around for her pack of cigaretts. Finding one and lighting it, she took a puff ot of it and walked out of her apartment and out into the hall, wearing very little, as always. Today, she doned a thick, red dress that went up four inches from her knees, white and red stripped toe socks, and a pair of sandals. Over her dress, she had a white coat, which tied the whole outfit together, minus the sandals. She hated wearing acual shoes. Tail swishing behind the dark feline, she stepped out of the apartment building to see what she could find. She needed more cancer sticks, too. "Great. Pick pocketing again for money." Something she wasn't to proud of.
---
Patch crouched there, in the shadows of the apartment's side alley, scrounging through the trash. He rocked back on his heels as he found a mardigras bead necklace carelessly thrown away. He frowned and pocketed the tiny gem, figuring someone somewhere might want it. Two-Legs were such...ungrateful things.
Wearing raggedy jeans and sneakers worn past the point of no return, with hair that never seemed to get brushed, Patch was a little bit of a slob. It wasn't that he didn't care about his appearance. He, just...well, didn't care that much. Who was he going to dress up for, anyway? He chuckled aloud at the thought of actually finding someone to suit his needs, mental and physical. He was an angel, a protector; he just needed to find someone to protect.
His head snapped up as a dark-skinned beauty strode from the apartment with her head held high. Interest tickled him. Dark ears swiveled forwards. A lazy smile rose onto his face and he stood. Confident, but never cocky -- no, he'd learned his lesson there -- he moved closer, raising a hand in a half-wave. "Lo there." His voice was deep and rich and a little throaty.
---
She paused, stick in mouth, smoke disapparing in the wind that blew. Arching a brow, the female sighed and turned to look at the little slob in the trashcan. Phoebe nearly laughed at how cliche this seemed, but kept from doing so. The red hair, however, fascinated her. That, and he was the only other feline he'd seen around her apartment building, other than the other two that lived there. She didn't even know their names, nor did she care too. Phoebe wasn't one to get to know her neighbors unless they came to her first.
She found herself staring ather hand as it moved to wave back and blinked. His voice was like silk to her. For some reason, she wanted to hear more of it. Her own voice was like whiskey on a cold day and sex on a lonely night. It would warm you up and caress you in all the right places. "What do we have here?" she purred lightly, stuffing one of her hands into her pocket, the other removing the stick from her mouth, after taking a puff. She let it out with her next words. "A hungry little kitty looking for good scraps? Sorry, sugar. This is the pits when it comes to that. Trash is picked up twice a week."
---
He grinned as she waved. He leaned against the building, hand on one hip, looking her up and down as if assessing her. She wore a pretty little number that just seemed to melt in with the cocoa of her skin. Her hair was bright, vivid, and short-cropped. He watched her for a moment, listening to her voice before he gathered himself enough to speak again. "Hardly," he chuckled. "I'm well fed, thank ya very much. But I did find a pretty little treasure..." He trailed off, fishing the beads from his pocket and sauntering up to her with the confidence of an alley cat. He brushed his dark hair out of his eyes, but it flopped right back. Yellow eyes gleamed as he outstretched the necklace. "A pretty necklace for a pretty woman?" His tail flicked, big and bushy, and he locked eyes with her. Not intimidated in the least.
---
If she had her bat with her, she doubted he'd come near her. A smirk played on her full painted lips at his confidence. That was good, though, confidence. Not every cat had it. Her mismatched eyes looked to the treasure and she gave a wider smile. What female feline could resist the beauty of beads? Phoebe took it from his hand and put it on over her head with the pearls that rested above her breats. Her fingers then played with the plastic beads, twirling them around and she chuckled. "Smooth talker, ain't you? I've met one more of your... Mn... eloquence, if you want to call it that. Pretty words won't work on me, hun," she said, giving him a playful wink. Despite her rough air, she was quiet the flirt.
---
Patch watched her. He had noticed the way few cats carried weapons, but he didn't see one on this female. Not that it would've scared him: Patch was fearless enough to brave a burning building to save his ex-Lady's kitten, he could handle a few whacks with a wrench or something. He lifted a brow, grinning wider as she took his offering and placed it around her neck. The blue of the beads shone against her skin and he nodded. "Looks perfect on you," he said, lowering his voice. His ears tipped forwards as she spoke. A roguish grin rose onto his face. "What does work on you, may I ask?" He stepped forwards, invading her space probably but not quite caring about that. He was loose, free, and having fun. His gold eyes twinkled. "Maybe you like it hot and fast..."
---
When he got in close, he would be able to see Phoebe had a brown and a lime green eye, and black star tattoos all over her face. She didn't mind him being her her bubble, she had none! She was pretty wild herself, never staying with the same male more than once unless they really impressed her. Chuckling a bit more, she poked his forehead and moved him away before shrugging carelessly. Hot and fast? She liked it hot and fast, and slow and dirty. "I like it however you give it, babe. Name's Pheobe. Think we should introduce ourselves before we talk about our sex lives, hm?" She teased, a finger going to trace the outside of his ears.
---
Patch noticed the tattoos. They'd been something he'd considered once upon a time, but decided it didn't go with his personality. He wasn't a biker or a bad boy, he was an angel...and angels didn't wear ink. Right? Maybe he'd consider wings on his back someday. He grinned as she manually moved him backwards, arms crossing over his chest. "I suppose that might be a good idea," he agreed, head tilted upwards. His tail flicked around, curling around his waist a little before relaxing once more. He jutted out a hand. "I'm Patch, resident guardian angel." He wondered how she'd react to that. It made him smile. If she didn't accept him, it was her problem. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he looked to her.
---
Watching the boy, she laughed out right at his introduction an nodded a bit. "I bet you are! I'm Phoebe, resident a**-kicker around here. Be careful, though, angel. It's not a very friendly neighborhood." Her cigarette was forgotten, already fallen to the floor, but she was itching for another. And, they were in her apartment. Sighing heavily, she cast her unmatching gaze to the door. "Come with me. I need my cigs, and you are in need of a bath. You stink to hell and back, Patch." Yes, pun intended.
---
Patch chuckled wryly. "a**-kicker, huh? If the shoe fits, I suppose." He glanced waywardly at her door, following her gaze, then lifted a brow. "I stink?" Unceremoniously, he lifted an arm and sniffed his sleeve, nose wrinkling up as he laughed at himself. "I suppose it's been awhile. True, true," he murmured, outstretching his arms. "Lead the way, beautiful." A wink and he had the passing thought that maybe she'd shower with him. He grinned at the thoughts dancing through his head and rolled his shoulders. Hey, a man can dream, can't he?
---
He could dream all he wanted, it wasn't happening. Patch had a snowball's chance in hell that she'd climb into the shower with him. Actually, the snowball had more of a chance. He was stinky, filthy, and she was washing his clothes if he like it or not. "I'll let you borrow some of the clothes the last guy left here." She'd kicked him out when he spilled an 'I love you' in the middle of everything. That's the one thing she hated; clingy males. It irritated her. If she had feelings for you, let her say them first before you said anything. That's what she believe, anyway.
Pushing open her unlocked door, she lead him into her clean, but nearly empty, apartment. Just the essentials for a effencansy place. "Shower's through there, clothes, you'll find in the linen closet across the hall from the bathroom. Toss your old clothes out an I'll wash them. If you're going to be visiting, you have to be clean. Clean the tub when you're done, too, stinky." Bossy little thing.
---
Patch followed her in, peering around with a mild curiosity. Not even a little put off that she thought he was disgusting -- c'est la vie, afterall -- he listened to her talk with easy flickering ears and a smile. "Kick him out once you were done sleeping with him?" he asked, a smirk on his face. Cool it, Patch, he inwardly barked. Cockiness got him nowhere in life. He reverted back to a smile. He headed for the bathroom. "Perfect. Thanks for you, uh...hospitality," he said softly, then closed the door behind him.
Turning the water to a scalding temperature, he stripped down and tossed his dirty clothes out the door. His place -- if he ever got a place -- would be so freaking messy. He needed someone to teach him how to tidy up sometimes. He got into the shower, letting the water log down his hair. After two scrubs of shampoo and one of conditioner, as well as a soapy rinse, he got out, trailing water after him. Wrapping a towel around himself, he slipped out and found the clothes. He pulled on a loose pair of jeans and a silk button up, then headed for the bathroom. Using both hands, he ran them through his hair and met his gaze in the mirror. He used a washcloth to quickly rinse the tub out, and then went looking for Phoebe.
---
"I do, actually. Expecially when they blurt out stupid things right in the middle. I can get off myself, thanks," she said, watching him carefully. The whole time he was in the shower, she was making coffee. Well, she had already had it set up, so all she did was turn it on. Right now, she was curled up on the couch with a fresh cup, still steaming, and a book in her lap. She had changed into something comfortable. A pair of short shorts and a long sleeved shirt. Her legs were curled up under her, her hair was down and wavy because of the braid, tail curled around her. Phoebe actually looked normal for once. She didn't hear him come out, too enthralled in her book. Quietly, she took a sip of coffee, sipping it so her top lip didn't get burned, nor did her tounge. "Mm."
---
Patch stretched a little, arching his back, tail fanning out. It was still damp and needed a hair-dryer to get it fully dry, but he wasn't worried. He found her on the couch and stood there, admiring her beauty for a moment. She was strong and confident and sassy and wonderful, even if she did call him Stinky. He leaned in the doorway, nose picking up the rich scent of coffree and he smiled. He found the kitchen and poured himself a cup, black with three sugars. Then he headed back. "How long have you lived here?" he asked, taking up the seat next to her. His gold eyes gleamed with curiosity.
---
"Three years," she said absently, waving her hand at him. She didn't even glance in his direction. "Yes, you can have coffee, thank you for asking. It's always nice when people do." Obvious sarcasm was in her voice before she sighed a bit more and put her finger in her book, looking up. "Oh, look! We have a very handsome cat under all that dirt. Clothes are a bit big, but eh. I'll do a load in just a moment. Got to wash what I had on, and after this chapter. Don't touch the creamer. It's mine."
----
"Thanks for offering," he shot back with a laugh, sitting down next to her, unabashed by her sarcasm. His tail curled around him, covering his lap. His bare toes wiggled into the carpet. "Hey,hey," he warned, lifting his hand to point a finger. "That dirt was my friend. You know how long I've had it?" His own tone was teasing. With the same finger, he gave her a salute. "Didn't touch the creamer. Just the sugar. Hope that's not a problem, Phoebs." He settled in. "Nice couch. Nice place." His tone turned impressed. "I mean, really nice. You've got yourself a mansion here. How'd you come about it?" His head tilted to one side.
---
She blinked. He wasn't serious, was he? A mansion? Hardly. She'd lived in bigger houses, honestly. Phoebe shifted to make room for him, the decided that he would make a good foot rest. So she shifted once more, putting painted toenailed feet into his lap before shrugging. "Just... claimed an apartment and moved in, kind of. All this junk," she waved a hand at her bare surroundings, "was brought over from the dumpster. Had others help me move it in. Sorry if it's chilly, heater's busted, I think." No, it was on, she just didn't know how to set the thermostate. Last winter, someone else did it for her, and the winter before that, well, she had someone living with her.
---
It was a mansion to him. When he'd lived with the Lady, they'd had a sardine can. He didn't flinch as her feet landed in his lap. He merely grinned, leaning back against the cushion and resisting the urge to tickle them. His tail brushed over them, feather light, before laying against the couch. "No worries. I'm used to the cold. Heavy fur coat, see?" His tail wagged for good measure. He was surprised at how vivid the color was: it was usually so dirty. He made a mental note to start bathing more often. "Huh. I'm not a handyman, but I could look at your furnace for you, later if you want?"
---
It was a damn good thing Phoebe wasn't ticklish, but his tail was damp, causing her to growl a little it. Snorting a bit, she nodded at his offer and nudged his stomach with her toes, probably brushing against something important with her heel int he process. Yawning a bit, Phoebe moved to take other swig of coffee. "That'd be..... really damn useful, actually."
---
Patch nodded. "Awesome," he grinned, giving a soft 'oof' as her feet pushed into his belly, brushing against the denim of his crotch as she did so. It sent a rush of tingles through his legs. His tail flicked and for a moment, his ears laid back, but he never stopped grinning. "So...ahem. Tell me about yourself." His hands dropped down to touch her toes, feeling the slick of the nailpolish there.
---
Arching a well done brow, Phoebe shrugged her shoulders a bit and sighed. "Twenty-two, single. I use a bat with nails in it in fights. I love fighting, flirting, getting laid, having a good time. As long as it feels right, I'll do whatever I want." She let her tail flick against the couch, hearing a light thump before grinning a bit. She wouldn't tell him how she got the scar about her neck. It was something she told people she loved. And he just wasn't that one. Stretching out a bit, she pointed her toes and then slumped over. "I like reading, coffee, any type of meat.."
---
"Hn..." Interesting. She knew herself so well, it seemed. City life seemed to treat her well and she seemed to revel in the freedom. "We should go out for a steak, sometime. Medium rare?" He flashed his fangs in a grin, his voice coming out a soft purr. He rested his hands on his tail, smoothing out the fur. He remembered how his Lady used to brush him and curiously wondered why he'd ever stopped grooming himself, really. Because it hadn't been convienent. "Seems like you've got life all figured out, Phoebs," he said.
---
She shifted again, her feet swinging, and her head soon replaced her feet. Looking up at him, using his tail as a pillow, she snuggled into him, not caring that her shirt was unbuttoned and showing off a good portion of her boobs. They were just globs of flesh to her. "I guess. I've just lived by myself for years, so I had to get to know myself. Otherwise... where would I be now? Lost in some gutter, probably dead."
---
He was surprised by this, finding her head resting against his tail and under that, his lap, her pale hair falling around her face in whisps. At first he had a moment of panic: a slight stiffening of the spine, a flick of an ear, and then he willed himself to relax again. So what if a pretty, young, single female was using him as her domain. Domain. He liked the sound of that and a lazy smile broke over his lips, fear qualled. His gaze roamed down her body. "That's smart. We'd much rather you be alive than dead," he teased, hand dropping down to twirl in her hair. Seeing how far he could get away with stuff. At any sign of displeasure, he'd back off: he wouldn't brave her bat. "I believe I've been given to the world, to keep them safe from harm. I once rescued a kitten from a burning building," he murmured, eyes lighting. He didn't mention that this was because his old owner was crying her name, nor did he tell her that he'd been replaced.
---
She didn't care he was looking at her; everyone did. It made her feel sexy. Phoebe knew she was hot, and loved to flaunt it, thus why she was usually showing a ton of skin. That, and she wanted to show her tats. Like her belly flare tattoo that was showing half way around her navel. The hair twirl earned an eye narrow, but nothing more. She didn't approve, nor disapprove. She stretched her legs out and sighed contentedly, eyes going half maste before her ears twitched in interest. He saved a kitten from a burning building? "Really are an angel, aren't you?" she murmured. One of her slender hands moved up to let thin fingers play with the red hair of his, just as he was doing to her. Then, she was bold and ran her whole hand through it, scratching at his scalp to get to his ears again. She wanted to tease him. More than anything, Phoebe was wondering what the hell was taking so long for the damn kiss. Wasn't she putting off enough signals?
---
His eyes roamed down, watching her with interest gleaming in his gaze. Sure, he'd had women before -- he'd been with plenty since he'd become a Free Collar -- but this one...was different. It was as if she was asking for it, and denying him that interest, all at once. His mind filtered through her behavior, lips twisting a little as she ran her hand through his clean red hair. His head tilted, allowing her better access to an ear and as she got the spot, he let out a surprisingly loud purr. "I'm an angel and you're a minx," he replied breathily, his body flashing with heat. He grinned. "But you knew that already, didn't ya, darling?" His gaze lingered on the moist parting of her lips. He had the urge to kiss them, to let his hands trail down her skin and pull her to him. His yellow eyes glittered. "We're strangers," he said, but he spoke it as if he didn't believe it. His lips turned up into a wry smile. "And you've got a ball bat..." As if that made all the sense in the world. "But I won't deny wanting you."
---
A minx, a tease, a whore, she'd been called all of this, but did she care? Not really. They were just names. But minx seemed to fit her a lot better than anything else in the list. The hand on her smooth, soft skin made her breath out a breath she didn't know she was holding. Looking into yellow eyes, she adjusted herself so she was straddling his lap, both hands on his face. Her bat was in her bedroom; which wasn't where they are right now, so he shouldn't be worrying about that. Leaning in, Phoebe smoothed her hands over his cheeks and pressed her lips to his own, full and warm, hers were, not chapped at all. Her eyes slipped closed as she relished in the sensation, letting it linger, seeing if he would respond. Minx indeed.
---
He wouldn't have considered her a whore. It wasn't like she threw herself at him immediately: she'd made him bathe first. He grinned as she moved around, legs coming to straddle him and deep down he knew he was past the point of no return with her. But that was fine with him. He gave a soft groan as leaned in, her hands carressing his face and his arms wrapping around her slender frame, fingers brushing her lower back. And then she kissed him. It was like a firework display going off in his heart. He responded, deepening the kiss silently, nibbling her lower lip. He pulled away first, looking into her bi-colored eyes, and kissed her again, this one chaste and innocent, unlike the first. "Don't tease me," he whispered, his voice tight, but he knew she wouldn't obey it. Heat surrounded them and they were no longer separate identities, but a whole. His fingers carressed her back, sliding under the hem of her shorts and pressing nails into her skin with just enough pressure.
---
The deepened kiss stoked the fire that had been slowly burning since she started flirting with him. The nibbling on her lower lip, a weakness of hers, but he wouldn't know that. Phoebe would tease him all she damn wanted. He couldn't do a thing to stop her from doing it. "A-aahn.." The nails on her skin. Yes, pain mixed with pleasure made her moan and writhe against him, hips rolling. Her eyes went half maste once more before she smirked, tail flicking widely behind her now. She had no friends to interrupt them now, thank whatever god was up there. "I will if I want too..." She breathed out against his lips before capturing them. This kiss had no innocents to it. She worked her lips against his, tongue coming out to play. To his surprise, there would be a piercing there, oh yes. She knew how to use that silver tongue of hers for things other than talking. The heat was getting to her, making her mind numb with the pure joy of it. This heat, the joining of two bodies. She needed it, like she needed air. Just maybe not as much
---
They lay cuddled together on the couch in the aftermath, their clothes strewn across the floor, coffee mugs forgotten on the glass intable. The coffee in them was probably cold now. Patch was covered in scratches and bites; seemed Phoebe wasn't just rough on the outside, but on the inside too. His body ached, in a good way. He smiled to himself, arms wrapped around her. This hadn't been what he'd intended... No. This had been quite an accident, but it was a pleasant one. He felt completely satisfied laying there, worn out, but happy. It was a happiness he'd feel even if Phoebe woke up and kicked his a** to the curb. She was pretty and sassy and full of herself, but oh, he liked it.
Maybe he wasn't such an angel afterall...
---
Phoebe probably wouldn't kick him to the curb when she woke up. She had to wash his clothes like she promised. Though this wasn't what he intended, it was what she wanted. Sex kept her happy and healthy. She cuddled into his neck, in her sleep, glad his tail was being used as a pillow. Who knew her 'couch' could be damn warm and comfortable? It had been the best booty call she'd had in a long, long time. Seemed the angel was no angel; he knew his way around a female and how to touch her. Still, her thoughts were blank, she wasn't seeing. She was deep asleep against her 'lover' for the night.
{Fin}
