OOC AUTHOR'S NOTE: Some of these stories are in-game canon, some are not. Therefore, do not make mention of them ICLY please, to save on confusion, unless you have specifically contacted me and I tell you otherwise.
In the Delicious Dark
The night was dark, the wail of sirens in the distance and the honk of traffic far below. But she could still hear it. She can hear just about everything, smell everything, all the distinct aromas and stenches of the city. But it is her city. This is home. Betsy, her body wrapped in a form-fitting strapless dress, blinks as she looks out from the penthouse balcony of one of the tallest sky-scrapers in the city. Screw Trump Tower; this made it look like a child’s block-building.
“Madame?” a voice comes behind her. She ignores it for the moment. “Madame?” it comes again, a little more insistent this time.
Betsy turns over her shoulder to face the man standing in the doorway of the room. “Yes?” she asks, coming in from the balcony.
“He’s arrived home safely, Madame. You wanted me to let you know,” the man says, half-turning towards the door again as though to leave if dismissed.
Betsy blinks as though drawing herself up out of a dream. Finally, she simply nods and replies, “Thank you.” Upon those words, the man leaves the room, shutting the door behind him.
“You know…you worry about him entirely too much,” a familiar voice comes from the deep, leather couch.
Betsy turns her head to see Leo’s bright blue eyes and golden aetheric aura shimmering in the low light of the room. “Leo?”
“You worry about him too much, Bets,” says the handsome black man again as she nears the couch. “He’s been doing this longer than either of us; he knows what he’s doing.” His mouth tips somewhat wickedly as he sets down the device he’s been working on. “Besides, when he’s gone…I get to monopolize your attention.” A strong, large hand strays out to rest on her thigh, trailing up to slip his fingers beneath the hem of her dress.
Betsy finds herself smiling and grasping Leo’s hand, drawing it away from her leg, though lacing her fingers with his. “Such an evil thing,” she purrs.
“Ah-ah-ah. Ethically controversial…” Leo replies lowly, a familiar, lusty gleam in those blue eyes. He looks up at the door with her, however, as it opens again.
Betsy finds her breath taken away at the strong form that stands in the doorway. Julien Boudreaux’s red eyes gleam in the light of the room and that rakish smile curls his lips. He is dressed in black – pants and dress shirt – shades not visible anywhere on his person. He carries a duffel bag slung over his shoulder and his brown hair is, of course, a bit longer than when they were children. Older, stronger, and, if it’s possible, even more handsome.
Betsy cannot help herself. She lets Leo’s hand slip from hers and begins to approach Jules as he enters the room. When they get close to each other, she finds that she’s grown taller and the stretch to his lips isn’t as far anymore.
“Mon coeur…” Julien’s voice drawls out as he looks down at her, “Ma belle.”
“Ma cherie,” Betsy’s finds her voice replying.
“Just kiss her already, manfriend!” comes Leo’s voice from the couch, “The suspense is killing me!”
“You always rush dis part, mon ami,” Jules admonishes his best friend teasingly, though his red eyes never leave Betsy’s golden ones. And kiss her he does. Dropping the duffel, he grabs her up in his arms, lifting her clean off her feet as he covers her mouth with his.
Betsy wraps her arms around Julien’s neck, kissing back just as enthusiastically, trying to restrain herself from scratching at him in her passion, just to see that red spark from his skin so deliciously.
When they finally part, reluctantly, Jules sets her down on her feet again before turning to the couch and plopping down next to Leo and putting an arm around the other man in a tight side-hug.
“So…successful?” Betsy then asks, her hands on her hips as she looks down at the two men. Hip cocked, her legs seem to go on forever under the short skirt of her dress.
Jules raises an eyebrow at her maddeningly. “What you think, ma belle femme?” he asks.
Betsy just smirks, though her mind runs with details to be completed. Details about police, CSUs, left-behind evidence, bank accounts. “Just making sure. You know I hate loose ends.”
“Funny, I thought you liked to play with them,” Leo quips, “That’s why I leave the ropes long.”
Jules nods with a deep chuckle. “Da man has a point, chere.”
Betsy just rolls her eyes and moves over towards her desk, opening her ledger to make a note or two. “You cleaned up after yourself?” she then asks.
Julien rolls his own eyes, patting Leo’s shoulder before standing from the couch again. “Elizabet, who is the experienced assassin here? Der was nothing to clean up.” He crosses over to her, coming to stand behind her at the desk. Betsy can feel him wrapping strong hands around her hips and drawing her back against his body. “But, if you want, I’ll send Claude and his team to make sure. So, stop worrying, Madame Boudreaux. We took out Luthor, didn’t we? Dis mark was easy,” he murmurs lowly, bending to brush his lips over the edge of her ear.
Betsy’s mind is like a steel trap and yet it still races when he speaks and touches her like this. She glances down at her hand, her left one, to the elegant, heirloom ring gracing her left ring finger. Julien’s lips still play over her ear, working their way down her neck and around to that very sensitive spot, which causes her to shiver in his grasp. What was she thinking about again?
Leo just relaxes on the couch, content to watch for now. Julien is always like this when he returns from working a mark – keyed up and in need of release, something delicious-dark sans blood. Sometimes they invited him to join, sometimes not. And it is true, he does monopolize Betsy’s time when Jules is away, just as he monopolizes Jules’s time when Betsy is off on her own jobs. There are certain benefits to being friends and second-in-command to the co-leaders of a Unified Assassins and Thieves Guild. Lost in his own delicious thoughts, Leo just barely hears his name being called.
“Leo, mon ami. We’ll see you in the mornin’,” Julien’s voice rumble above Betsy, husky and thick, those rubied eyes flashing at his friend.
“Of course,” Leo’s chuckles as he gathers his gadget and rises from the couch. He looks at his friends once more, teeth catching the corner of his bottom lip for a moment as he makes his way out of the room.
“Now, Madame Boudreaux,” Jules turns Betsy about swiftly, lifting her strong, slender form easily onto her desk, “I think it’s time for dat debriefing you always bothering me about.” His hands come to the skirt of her dress, pushing it up and up and up, while his lips ravage her neck, running down to tease the beautiful scars on her shoulders.
Betsy smiles and tilts her head back, just giving in to him. “Oui, Monsieur Boudreaux,” she purrs, tangling her fingers in his hair, “We have a lot to discuss.” The last word is lost as Jules presses his lips to hers again, pulling her forward against him. She’ll have to clean her desk in the morning. Again.
The Cajun does rage indeed but it’s the sweetest rage. The sort of rage that tangles the sheets, sparks with red, and ends with a whiskey and a cigarette in the wee hours of the morning.
“Madame?” a voice comes behind her. She ignores it for the moment. “Madame?” it comes again, a little more insistent this time.
Betsy turns over her shoulder to face the man standing in the doorway of the room. “Yes?” she asks, coming in from the balcony.
“He’s arrived home safely, Madame. You wanted me to let you know,” the man says, half-turning towards the door again as though to leave if dismissed.
Betsy blinks as though drawing herself up out of a dream. Finally, she simply nods and replies, “Thank you.” Upon those words, the man leaves the room, shutting the door behind him.
“You know…you worry about him entirely too much,” a familiar voice comes from the deep, leather couch.
Betsy turns her head to see Leo’s bright blue eyes and golden aetheric aura shimmering in the low light of the room. “Leo?”
“You worry about him too much, Bets,” says the handsome black man again as she nears the couch. “He’s been doing this longer than either of us; he knows what he’s doing.” His mouth tips somewhat wickedly as he sets down the device he’s been working on. “Besides, when he’s gone…I get to monopolize your attention.” A strong, large hand strays out to rest on her thigh, trailing up to slip his fingers beneath the hem of her dress.
Betsy finds herself smiling and grasping Leo’s hand, drawing it away from her leg, though lacing her fingers with his. “Such an evil thing,” she purrs.
“Ah-ah-ah. Ethically controversial…” Leo replies lowly, a familiar, lusty gleam in those blue eyes. He looks up at the door with her, however, as it opens again.
Betsy finds her breath taken away at the strong form that stands in the doorway. Julien Boudreaux’s red eyes gleam in the light of the room and that rakish smile curls his lips. He is dressed in black – pants and dress shirt – shades not visible anywhere on his person. He carries a duffel bag slung over his shoulder and his brown hair is, of course, a bit longer than when they were children. Older, stronger, and, if it’s possible, even more handsome.
Betsy cannot help herself. She lets Leo’s hand slip from hers and begins to approach Jules as he enters the room. When they get close to each other, she finds that she’s grown taller and the stretch to his lips isn’t as far anymore.
“Mon coeur…” Julien’s voice drawls out as he looks down at her, “Ma belle.”
“Ma cherie,” Betsy’s finds her voice replying.
“Just kiss her already, manfriend!” comes Leo’s voice from the couch, “The suspense is killing me!”
“You always rush dis part, mon ami,” Jules admonishes his best friend teasingly, though his red eyes never leave Betsy’s golden ones. And kiss her he does. Dropping the duffel, he grabs her up in his arms, lifting her clean off her feet as he covers her mouth with his.
Betsy wraps her arms around Julien’s neck, kissing back just as enthusiastically, trying to restrain herself from scratching at him in her passion, just to see that red spark from his skin so deliciously.
When they finally part, reluctantly, Jules sets her down on her feet again before turning to the couch and plopping down next to Leo and putting an arm around the other man in a tight side-hug.
“So…successful?” Betsy then asks, her hands on her hips as she looks down at the two men. Hip cocked, her legs seem to go on forever under the short skirt of her dress.
Jules raises an eyebrow at her maddeningly. “What you think, ma belle femme?” he asks.
Betsy just smirks, though her mind runs with details to be completed. Details about police, CSUs, left-behind evidence, bank accounts. “Just making sure. You know I hate loose ends.”
“Funny, I thought you liked to play with them,” Leo quips, “That’s why I leave the ropes long.”
Jules nods with a deep chuckle. “Da man has a point, chere.”
Betsy just rolls her eyes and moves over towards her desk, opening her ledger to make a note or two. “You cleaned up after yourself?” she then asks.
Julien rolls his own eyes, patting Leo’s shoulder before standing from the couch again. “Elizabet, who is the experienced assassin here? Der was nothing to clean up.” He crosses over to her, coming to stand behind her at the desk. Betsy can feel him wrapping strong hands around her hips and drawing her back against his body. “But, if you want, I’ll send Claude and his team to make sure. So, stop worrying, Madame Boudreaux. We took out Luthor, didn’t we? Dis mark was easy,” he murmurs lowly, bending to brush his lips over the edge of her ear.
Betsy’s mind is like a steel trap and yet it still races when he speaks and touches her like this. She glances down at her hand, her left one, to the elegant, heirloom ring gracing her left ring finger. Julien’s lips still play over her ear, working their way down her neck and around to that very sensitive spot, which causes her to shiver in his grasp. What was she thinking about again?
Leo just relaxes on the couch, content to watch for now. Julien is always like this when he returns from working a mark – keyed up and in need of release, something delicious-dark sans blood. Sometimes they invited him to join, sometimes not. And it is true, he does monopolize Betsy’s time when Jules is away, just as he monopolizes Jules’s time when Betsy is off on her own jobs. There are certain benefits to being friends and second-in-command to the co-leaders of a Unified Assassins and Thieves Guild. Lost in his own delicious thoughts, Leo just barely hears his name being called.
“Leo, mon ami. We’ll see you in the mornin’,” Julien’s voice rumble above Betsy, husky and thick, those rubied eyes flashing at his friend.
“Of course,” Leo’s chuckles as he gathers his gadget and rises from the couch. He looks at his friends once more, teeth catching the corner of his bottom lip for a moment as he makes his way out of the room.
“Now, Madame Boudreaux,” Jules turns Betsy about swiftly, lifting her strong, slender form easily onto her desk, “I think it’s time for dat debriefing you always bothering me about.” His hands come to the skirt of her dress, pushing it up and up and up, while his lips ravage her neck, running down to tease the beautiful scars on her shoulders.
Betsy smiles and tilts her head back, just giving in to him. “Oui, Monsieur Boudreaux,” she purrs, tangling her fingers in his hair, “We have a lot to discuss.” The last word is lost as Jules presses his lips to hers again, pulling her forward against him. She’ll have to clean her desk in the morning. Again.
The Cajun does rage indeed but it’s the sweetest rage. The sort of rage that tangles the sheets, sparks with red, and ends with a whiskey and a cigarette in the wee hours of the morning.