( that all? like it's the simplest cipher to solve, a basic equation of the universe. like she could say she decided she wants the whole damn musee d'orsay next, and he would have it ribbon-wrapped and hand-delivered, just to grin and ask her again: that all? no sweat off his back. the most dangerous part of jake seresin isn't sly fingers, or a charm that could convince god himself to hand over the kingdom; it's the way he nurtures all the hopeful things inside of her she's left to rot, daring them to dream. sky's the limit, baby, if she would only ask. whatever the sun touches is hers for the taking. stop asking for the small shit, and start asking for everything.
maybe she could learn to. maybe there's a lifetime where she isn't stuck in the cage of her own want, bars welded from every time she's been told no, not you, too much, too late. jake's right there, dangling the key like it's a gift, not a gamble, not a risk. like love is a promise, and not some long-running con without a winner. a pull between her eyebrows, a crumpling of her expression, a wall bulldozed down. not because he's said the devastatingly wrong thing she's heard again, some played out song — because he's said the devastatingly right one.
stupid, to think he needs to offer that out. it sounds like an exit route to ani, last chance to return her gift with the receipt before it's officially hers: is that what you want? as if it didn't half-kill her to tell his dumb ass the first time. her chest hiccups, faint, around the breath she loosens. her fingers loop back into the chain around his neck again — less tender, now, when she gives it a sharp little tug. a reprimanding, just this side of possessive and heat, a statement of what the fuck do you think? without as many words.
her expression, by contrast: suitably fawny, deceptively doe-eyed. perfect costuming for: )
I could really use someone to do my taxes.
( coquettish, a playful feint — but only halfway. a beat, the sparkle dulling to seriousness. when she speaks again, it's the softest thing in the world. )
I got an impossible job for him. Big reward in it if he doesn't blow the whole thing.
( a trail off, fingertips scratching through his stubble, a knuckle rubbing over his jawline. slow, absent. )
Stay. Love me. Try not to fuck it up this time. Heard he used to be the only guy who could pull it off. You think he's still got it in him?
no subject
maybe she could learn to. maybe there's a lifetime where she isn't stuck in the cage of her own want, bars welded from every time she's been told no, not you, too much, too late. jake's right there, dangling the key like it's a gift, not a gamble, not a risk. like love is a promise, and not some long-running con without a winner. a pull between her eyebrows, a crumpling of her expression, a wall bulldozed down. not because he's said the devastatingly wrong thing she's heard again, some played out song — because he's said the devastatingly right one.
stupid, to think he needs to offer that out. it sounds like an exit route to ani, last chance to return her gift with the receipt before it's officially hers: is that what you want? as if it didn't half-kill her to tell his dumb ass the first time. her chest hiccups, faint, around the breath she loosens. her fingers loop back into the chain around his neck again — less tender, now, when she gives it a sharp little tug. a reprimanding, just this side of possessive and heat, a statement of what the fuck do you think? without as many words.
her expression, by contrast: suitably fawny, deceptively doe-eyed. perfect costuming for: )
I could really use someone to do my taxes.
( coquettish, a playful feint — but only halfway. a beat, the sparkle dulling to seriousness. when she speaks again, it's the softest thing in the world. )
I got an impossible job for him. Big reward in it if he doesn't blow the whole thing.
( a trail off, fingertips scratching through his stubble, a knuckle rubbing over his jawline. slow, absent. )
Stay. Love me. Try not to fuck it up this time. Heard he used to be the only guy who could pull it off. You think he's still got it in him?