It's Just... Good Business

NOTE: This was inspired off a picture I did of my most favourite pairing in the whole entire freaking world.

WARNING: Sex, blood, violence and language... Dirty talk too ;D

Vincent (c)AlexChiswell

Alasdair (c)SanctusEspiritus

And they say to me, never deny a woman what she wants. When she comes over to me with a body that makes my mouth water I cannot deny her, I'm a gentleman, I would never deny such a beautiful woman the right to fun.

The games we play are long and interesting, she plays on my nature and wishes upon wishes that one night Ill accompany her home and show her a heaven that not even a goddess could dream of.

She says it every time my blooded hands grab her by the thighs and press her back to the wall, every time my tongue plunders her mouth with a raw eroticism.
I know how to get my bonny lass to make noise, it's not the drink that makes her do it its her own mind falling blank, ignoring everything but the pleasure I can give her.

They say women are attracted to danger. I can confirm now that the person to come up with that was right. My links are public, but no one bats an eye, I'm not the cruellest on these streets despite my violent tendencies, I don't harm my working girls nor do I harm the people who spread my message. She understands that.

This angel with hair bronzed, like a statue and two melted gold eyes that seem to see right through the act, right through the suit and the homicidal man that sits across from her. It's our night again tonight. Again she takes my hand across the table, thumbs brushing across the permanently blooded and bruised knuckles. The pain was long lost to me, but her beauty would forever remain a sharp pain. She was beautiful to me.

"You should take better care of your hair" She whispers lightly when I finally pull off my hat and set it aside, took control of her hand and she lets me do so willingly, kissed each fingertip in turn and let the pads scrape against my teeth. She likes it, I know she does.

"A man like me does not have time for such trivial things"

The bar was full of smoke, that went without saying some of it was from the cigarettes and others from the smoke machines that were at the sides of the stage. Vincent didn't really mind it, the seedy feel made him feel at home and it was something he adored. It was drizzling outside, insistent and trying to coax people to head inside, to get off the streets. People were, leaving the streets like a war was oncoming.

His thoughts were broken when a woman sat across from him.

She was a god damn vixen, and definitely not one of his working girls because all of them were working the poles tonight, he was watching them without really much arousal at all. He was happily taken, but the woman across from him? He could easily have been tempted to be unfaithful if she offered him what she had.

"I see you here every night, is it true what they say?"

Vincent looked across at her, eyed her up visibly, bobbed copper hair and golden eyes that seemed somewhat magical and quite a sleek figure. She'd obviously had no children.

"And what do they say?" Vincent purred in the pre-strike Russian tone, silently picking up the whiskey and drank the remainder of what was left, pouring more from the bottle in his jacket. The woman watched his every move and he had to admit, her gaze was sensual, and down right hot. He felt rather than saw the lower part of his body pay attention to the vixen.

"That you special forces don't just go home after work, you drink all night and go to work in the morning."

She reached across the table and Vincent tracked the possible trajectory of her hand and when the fingers settled around the glass he grabbed hold of her wrist, not tightly but firmly enough to send clear messages that he didn't want her touching his things. The sensual smile in response made his trousers tighten further, and her hand withdrew.

"I have a wife, but I used to spend my nights in the bar." He answered throatily as he watched her, his brows raising considerably while picking up the hat and slipping it back onto his head.

"Oh? You have a wife? So I can't... Tempt you, with anything?" The woman cooed. Vincent smirked, his lips curling up into a slightly sadistic and predatory expression and for a moment the female looked startled before she mirrored. He liked that, she wasn't afraid to mirror him.

Vincent took another deep draft of the whiskey, poured himself again and cleared his throat, shamelessly leaning over to trace his finger down the slope of a breast and traced the contour. The woman didn't push him away, cleared her throat and shifted herself. She'd worn a low cut shirt on purpose, because when his curious finger hit the end of the V of the fabric he pushed it lightly aside. She was watching his face more than his finger, and watched his eyes darken with lust considerably when he realized she wasn't wearing a bra.

"Oh my. You naughty minx." He commented, withdrawing his hand after leaving a light brush of a nipple, smirking. "I think you've just caught my attention. What is it you want?" He said as he watched her, his brows raised Her nails quietly dragged over the inside of an exposed wrist, watching his lips curl back into the same smile that made her shiver.

"I want you." She answered.

"Oh, of course you do, but what do you want from me...?" He purred. He liked doing this, getting them to divulge what exactly it was they wanted, it gave him a feeling of power. The woman looked at him with defiance before she smirked lightly and leaned over to whisper in his ear,

"I want your body."

Before Vincent could pull back her teeth had clamped down just above his earring, nibbling away lightly but even though she was doing so, Vincent just knew she was smiling. So was he.

"Of course. How could I deny a vixen such as yourself a fun time?"

Then she let go, her bag moving from her lap to over her shoulder and stood up, walking away from the table and then looked back at him over her shoulder. Vincent was grabbing his jacket to follow, his knuckles were blooded and bruised but it just added a certain appeal, he was a rough man and everyone knew it. On the way out she was always walking ahead, hips swinging back and forth teasingly and her figure was enough to make his mouth begin to water. What he'd give to sink his teeth into those shoulders and feel that body shudder. Soon, he reminded himself, soon.

When he stepped out of the club the rain had stopped, it was still heavily foggy and the stench of the city just clung to every inch, every surface. He looked left and right, but he saw no long legged vixen.

"Over here, big boy."

His gaze snapping to his left, a shadow from an alley way motioning to him and Vincent loped across the road with a grin, it led to a sheltered alley that was dry and when he got there she was waiting just past a street lamp, taunting him with the sensual curves and how the light splayed over her skin. How could he deny her?

She stepped back when he grabbed her by the hips, pushing her backwards the same moment his lips crushed down on her own, open mouthed and needing for some fun, wanton and with abandoned control. He wanted her body, he wanted her body now and she was already fumbling with his belt by the time her back hit the brick. The sudden cold against her skin forced a gasp and let his tongue in, exploring and fighting with her own before his lips pulled free and moved down her jaw, down the swan neck peppering it with marks while she finished playing with his belt, shoving his trousers down enough to get her hands in and get to her prize. She found it, of course, and purred happily before a noise was released from her throat when he pulled down her top lightly to get to a breast, suckling until he felt he had her writhing enough.

His hands were rough, the skin was rough from years of handling weapons but this vixen didn't seem to mind it when he suddenly grabbed her thighs and forced her up the wall, picking her up. Oh no, she welcomed him and responded by wrapping her legs around his waist, bucking against him and her arms around his neck as she held herself to him. Vincent's lips met hers again as he lowered her along the length of him and she settled down to the hilt of his erection. She felt glorious around him, and he loved it, issuing a deep rumbling moan.

His pace against her was not gentle, it was rough and lusting. This wasn't love, this was an unabashed quickie in a back alley and fitting that description it was rough and quick, clumsy in some regards and all it was about was the sex, the rhythm against her rough and she was sure she'd have bruises in the morning from where his hips had repeatedly struck her own. His hands still at her thighs, the nimble fingers moving to stroke the small bundle of nerves, biting at her neck. Vincent was trying to push her, push her as hard and as far as he could before she finally gave in and fell over the edge, he'd know when she did but that was what he was trying to do. The noises made between them ranged, really did, from noiseless pants to loud long cries from both of them.

Lips dropped down, grasping a breast again and suckled, felt her hands grip his hair and yank from the root right through to the tip, lips curling into a wicked smile and just carried on suckling. She had become a mother, and recently too, because she was seemingly far too sensitive to stimulation there than anyone else would have been, that and he knew what breast feeding looked like, his wife had always breast fed his children. His wife... What would she say if she found out?

The copper haired woman could hear his grunts, tinged with frustration of not being able to truly claim her like he wanted to, making a point to pull his lips up to hers and leant her full weight against him to push them both away from the wall. In the end she found herself on his jacket, on the floor, on her front, behind a bin. He'd flipped her over and claimed her from behind, grunts no longer tinged with that hint of frustration and she could feel him nipping and biting at her neck and shoulders, his teeth catching the lobe of her ear like she'd done with him, nibbling and suckling lightly with a grin before his hands smoothed out and grasped her breasts.

"I bet you love this, don't you?" He breathed in her ear, ignoring any responses. "I bet you love this, the feeling of being totally exposed, if anyone walked past they'd see you. All worked up and full of me. Moaning like a slum whore. I bet they'd love it, to be me, down here, touching you, claiming you, making you mine. You're mine, to do with as I please. Do you understand me, my dirty vixen?"

That was it, it forced her right over the edge with her nails digging into his jacket and a long loud wail as she all but tensed up and froze around him, slowly sinking down onto the dirt covered cloth beneath her, his hands still at her breasts tweaking and tugging. She knew just by how he was breathing that he'd hit and surpassed his edge to, his body weakly lying on top of hers. That was when she smiled, reaching up to stroke his cheek and felt the pointed nose nestle into the gap between her fingers.

"I love you, Vincent."

Vincent exhaled heavily, closed his eyes. Many women had told him that in his life, but only one had meant it.

"And I love you too, Alasdair. My beautiful wife."

He liked this game.