. sustancias

[rosie de la cruz]

Rosie

Could this even work? It feels wild to consider, as if a few weeks ago had entirely evaporated from her memory. Or just been reframed, refocused to the one page they hadn't seemed to misalign. She'd never really been a hook up girl, too settled on the fact that it would confirm things to people who consistently misunderstood her. Too pretty to be anything but a plaything, beautiful but no brain...looking to Beni now he'd seen past the stereotypes already, but had stumbled any further. Maybe pulling him back, knowing he had the knowledge and allowing them to do what they'd found to do best, was the lone possibility that remained. Not that it was a bad one. Or one he seemed to be shirking, feeling the heat of his gaze on her, the weight of his words. Innocently tugging the straw further into her mouth, only to let it go. "I can be fun sometimes," Rosie lofts back, feeling the slow hover into her space. Shifting to meet it, curious and open and yet still aware of the audiences likely waiting with bated breath. Rosie throws caution to the wind suddenly, shattering another preconceived notion of who she thought she was. "Look," she starts, low and sweet but warning. "This is where it's good, right? If we can keep it here, keep it to this ..." she shrugs, elusive. "I could be interested. But if we can't, then I can't be." Her drink runs low again, stepping back. "If that works for you, send another mule to my table. If not, send a gin dirty martini." She steps back again, the hint of a smile returning to her lips before she returns to her friends, all eyes rapt as she sat back down. "So I'm probably going to get laid tonight."

[benicio otero]

Benicio

He stands no chance. All of his work instantly gone the moment she set her eyes to his, a whirlwind that had never been processed or closed, only muted or stifled. What felt like the hundredth goodbye only to snap them back into the same orbit, changed once more in backdrop or mood or happenstance. Always running into one another as different versions, wondering which parts fit better this time, if the things that mattered had changed. The low of her voice beckons him closer, trying to school his features as his eyes snapped to hers in curiosity and confirmation of this offer. Not a promise of hope, but a grab at what has always been successful between them. The drinks have diffused their way through his blood, encouraging a fire that had caught the moment she came over, sparked by the knowledge that she was here. No feelings, no strings; he can manage that. It’s simple and painless and at the end of the day something they can agree on, what they both are willing to offer. As Rosie disappeared in his periphery, the set of his jaw softened with a smirk, pulling out his phone to text his driver before requesting another mule to be sent to the beautiful girl over there.

[rosie de la cruz]

Rosie

It was like an itch that had never fully been scratched. Beni had always been the more romantic one between them, never more so than when their feelings had singed, then burned. He'd probably wince if he caught a glimpse of her thoughts sometimes, the constant whir and the methodical way she'd put things together. Sure, a gesture now and again could render her speechless, a reminder that someone cared for her could leave her brimming with incomparable gratitude. But this, now, gave her stability. A black and white definition of something she knew had been successful. As unromantic as it seemed in theory it would help in the long run, conversations hushed when the drink was slid onto her table. One look and her gaze immediately drifts back over her shoulder, nodding his direction as she took one look, tugged the straw back to her lips, and sent it all tumbling back. The rum burned down her throat but at this point anything she touched felt warm, the girls giggling around her. They'd likely anxiously await the outcome of her evening, sending a cheeky smile back their way before she stood and headed back toward the bar. "Let's go," she murmurs as she drifts past him, hovering just close enough before she bypassed him and waited by the door. A cautious, but soon to close distance away.

[benicio otero]

Benicio

The moment the drink lands on her table should be the moment that Benicio made his way back to his group, briefly remorseful in the excuse he offers that allows him to bid goodbye and finish the rest of his own drink. For now, nothing else has to matter: not the project, not Mexico, not even the next day. It's how they can both remain most present, senses alight as their imaginations ran off with the unknowns, possessed by the heat of proximity, heartbeats as rushed as breaths. Feeling the air move as she passed with a whisper, beckoning him to her yet again, without fail, powerless in her wake. Same story, trying a different ending. Incited by the secret of it all, the coy disappearance from their friends, the promise of a night outside. José will be waiting for them soon, Beni sorting out his tab before rising to his feet and following behind her familiar figure, feeling the collective gaze of her friends as they left. Outside on the street he spots the incoming car, palm slipping to Rosie's lower back as he opened the door for her and followed behind her into the cabin. The door shutting on them, a crackle in the air suddenly affording them privacy before the car took off toward her address. With an arm draped over the back of the seat, Benicio's eyes caught hers in the darkness. "Come here."

[rosie de la cruz]

Rosie

They move as if in an orchestra, each piece building to the next, silent cues offered in exchange for pleasantries or even words. Just the heat of their proximity, the surprising flush of cool air up the stairs, the weight of his hand on her back. She leans in blindly, letting her body react more than her mind which had been tamped down to dangerously quiet. Any thoughts beyond breathe in, breathe out would be too much, sliding in to a familiar car that would likely bear very different results than the last time she had seen it. "Come here." It feels as loud as a gunshot in the crackling silence, electricity snaking her skin as she tugs away from her own seat. Led blindly by past memories and the rich look in his eye Rosie shifts to hover over him, knees finding purchase on plush leather as they bracket his hips. Hands coming to curve his jaw, half as an anchor and half to tug him closer. Gaze faltering for a second, just a moment, before steeling in native curiosity, drawing his lips to her own.

[benicio otero]

Benicio

There is little acknowledgement needed of the outside world, the dark streets peeling away from the windows, José’s eyes dutifully ahead and music a steady hum in the speakers. This was familiar, that frantic decision to leave together, urged on by a last drink, a suggestive glance, a final song on the dance floor. One minute at Jac’s and now they’re here, lips and hands desperate on each other the moment she moves to over to him. Watching her knees part and steady on either side of him, nudging up the hem of her dress at the same time to accommodate for the movement. Entranced by the heat of her skin under his palms, lingering at the curve of her hip, allowed to remember her body again. Their eyes catch and hold, gazes rivaling the darkness that swallowed them up in the backseat. Her hands sent to his jaw, his beard coarse against her touch, Benicio enjoying the view before they crashed together. Maybe this was an inevitability of a different kind. He shifts her in his lap and leans in closer, angling himself to match her, lips slotting against hers, one arm sent around her waist like she might float away if he didn’t hold her there. It was summer, fewer layers to battle against, afforded more of her skin to peruse. Sipping the taste of rum from her mouth, hearing only their breaths and brushing fabric and the pass of their tongues. Meeting her kisses with equal fervor, daring her forward, unable to hide his excitement. His hands roam: her sides, her ass, her hips, rough on the thighs exposed under her ridden-up dress. The cool metal on his hands is perhaps a startlingly cold surprise when they connect to her skin, grinning against her lips at a shiver, a Spanish curse under his breath.

[rosie de la cruz]

Rosie

Rosie's thoughts tumble in tune to the shift of her body, pressing forward, drawing back, dark hair spilling over her shoulders. Arm tugged around her like a lifeline though she feels no rush to slip away for once, to go running from him as she had too many times before. She was here to enjoy, to feel the skip of her racing pulse and the tug of a familiar mouth against her own, a touch that traced her body with reverence. Drug even further forward and Rosie all but falls into her own desire, lips parting, legs drifting. Reveling in the harsh of his beard against her soft hands, the sharp gasp of surprise she sends into his mouth at the cool jewelry against her heated skin. It was all both foreign and familiar, knowing where to drift her hands, knowing when to drop her lips to the pulse point under his jaw. But also understanding this was feverished and frenzied and not some date to be rehashed later. Very little promises, exceeding rewards, a bet she was suddenly willing to take on herself as she settles further into him, dress slipping and slipping and slipping as they drew back together. There's only question that forces her to pull away, breath heavy against his skin as her brows draw together, braving a glance at the buzzy streets outside. "Mine's closer."

[benicio otero]

Benicio

There are feelings involved here, but not the ones that had been nipping at his heels for weeks. Instead—much simpler and more familiar—there’s desire and need and greed, uncomplicated by romance or love or promise. Besides complete absence, this was truly the least they could do in whatever this relationship had become. Far more preferable to the agonizing silence; leave everything else aside, take only what they wanted. And that they are relearning how to do, with every inch of skin uncovered and each kiss deepened, memories of pleasure surging back with this reunion. He meets her with hunger, rocking into the cradle of her hips, staking claim to her lips and tongue. Coming up for air only at the invitation to hers, his eyes bright with a devilish glint. “I know,” he rasps, grinning into a kiss, lips roaming to the hinge of her jaw and juncture of her neck. A treasure hunt for her erogenous zones, remembering the map of places that made her gasp or shudder or plead. Her apartment is also her domain, where she will feel most in control and assertive, him as a mere guest of her pleasure—nothing more, not his place to stay. His mouth moves languidly down the slope of her throat, teeth and tongue flickering, free hand tracing the seam of her underwear. He leaned in, lips lingering closer to her ear, whispering something in Spanish. Then he leaned toward the other—her English ear, they had once joked—and dutifully whispered the translation: “I wanna taste you so bad.”

[rosie de la cruz]

Rosie

He knew. Of course he knew, a calculated risk that paid off as her eyes roll then flutter, caught senseless by the heavy trail of his mouth against her lips, her skin. Beni had been a study of worship and praise, passion personified...emotionally, it had been too much for her. Physically? Physically she could easily manage, breath coasting into a moan at the weaknesses he'd easily pulled from her. Traced from memory, hands twisting further into the thick of his curls as she tipped her neck further, seeking more. Deliberate touches and harsh words, reaching down to guide the hand that had already drifted between her legs. The ghost of a gasp against his ear as she drew his fingers past delicate lace, stroking them up languidly before redirecting his hand back to his mouth. Eyes opening in darkened abandon Rosie pushes them down against his tongue, watching them disappear between his lips with a suddenly depthless hunger.

[benicio otero]

Benicio

The lights of the passing streets played across her skin, throwing shadows across her arresting features. He found her hooded eyes in the dark, both their chests heaving, desperate with desire, unraveled by blood alcohol content. His grasp cradles her ass, the flesh in his palms a silent thrill to be reacquainted with, encouraging her movement against him, chasing the intoxicating friction. Evidence of what she inspired from him, brazen in the outline hard against her. Always needing more, his indulgence a necessity when it came to this—not something to startle her away. And she isn’t fazed to oblige his request now. His eyes drift shut and mouth falls open, swallowing a groan at the feel of her collecting on his fingertips, her touch guiding the taste to his mouth. His tongue lathed his own fingers, eyes keeping hers as he hummed his pleasure. “Still a couple blocks to go,” he murmured, lips sent back to hers, still rich with her scent. His fingers ghosted back between them, finding purchase beneath the thin fabric to test the pad of his thumb against her. “Do you think you can stay quiet for me?”

[rosie de la cruz]

Rosie

Neither of them are going to give and she knows it, hips driving heavier as lips trailed and mouthed and nipped. Pulse points for exploitation, weaknesses caught in the clip of a gasp, the short of a breath. Sex was a rare time where Rosie could forego control, if she wanted. Let instincts lead, let carnal want untether any grasp she thought she might hold. But other times she would refuse to give an inch, to forego submitting for something more frenzied, more harsh. Like now, breath ragged in her throat as his fingers slid back against her, the friction of his hand and the rough fabric of his pants stirring something she was loathe to give in to so quickly. Rosie tips her forehead against his shoulder instead so he can't use her eyes as an advantage, biting her lip to quiet the whimpers as his thumb circled the apex of her thighs. Listening to what he wanted but not giving him what he needed, lips curling cruelly into a smile before faltering at his quickening touch.

[benicio otero]

Benicio

If this is all they can do, they had better make the most of it. Nothing else exists in his mind but Rosie right here and now, all his senses entangled in her and caught up in the pursuit of pleasure. Counting down the blocks to her apartment, a timer ticking away as he dared forward beneath the fabric, her thighs still spread over him. She hid herself from view, face turned away and obscured by the curtain of her hair, an underhanded tactic that made him smirk into a kiss against her neck. As stubborn as him but in different ways, refusing to be agreeable without a fight. So he takes it as a challenge—drawing circles around her clit, testing her reaction, experimental in his pace before pushing a finger into her. His free hand held her hip steady, mouth covering hers to muffle any sounds before he kissed his way to tut against her ear. “Shhh,” he reminded with a breathy chuckle, eager for a reaction, anything to confirm his effect on her. Before adding a second finger.

[rosie de la cruz]

Rosie

It's an assault on her senses, lashes lowered in a dipping daze as one moment melts into the next. Quick, slow, deep, surface; a test of her own torture, biting down harder until the skin threatens to buckle under a loosening tongue. Rosie's shoulders tell the story she's desperate to stay silent for, trembling at the cool of his kiss against her neck, then leaning in to the sigh she slips down his throat as their mouths reconnect. Her free hand slams to the leather by his head when he adds a second finger, fully giving in as a low moan slips from her lips. Curving to welcome the pressure, chest leaning into his as her lips repeat it in his ear, barely audible amidst the static in her ears and the buzz of New York traffic. Unmoored when a breathy "please," follows in its wake, not entirely sure what she's begging for but leaning in none the less, gaze squeezing back shut as she shifted her knees, bearing down to draw him in further.

[benicio otero]

Benicio

This is how Benicio knows her best, the only time he can anticipate or predict her. As if her body betrays her, giving in to primal needs that the mind could not have the time to complicate. What he could accomplish with his hands and mouth in the moment, as if burning Rosie from both ends until her only solace was him. Deriving his own pleasure from hers, wanting to take her over the edge just so he could watch and feel it happen, knowing he was the cause. Benicio loved to look at her as he pleasured her: hooded eyes, cheeks the color of her name, the wild shapes of her mouth. His wrist bent under her dress, tendons flexing as his fingers curled in her, groaning into her shoulder at the feel of her stretched. Warm velvet, greedy for more, her voice scraping out a quiet plea that he would be remiss to defy. Painfully aroused beneath her as she bore down on him, chasing her high first. “Cum for me, Rosie,” he whispered, feeling the familiar flutters of her body on the edge, teeth raking over his lip as he demanded her gaze.

[rosie de la cruz]

Rosie

The heat is unending and unyielding, flush coating the sheen of her skin, the swell of her chest, tugging away from his grasp to push further into the quick work of his fingers. Flinching imperceptibly as he knows exactly where to reach, as infuriating and beautiful as it was, his previous wish all but abandoned as the pitch of her breath ratcheted further up in its fervor. The buildup is sweet and quick, almost painful, haze heavy in her eyes as they meet his again. It's almost the look she sees, not the command, that draws her over the edge, holding it as long as she could before it's all too much and her body shudders around him, eyes drifting shut at the voracity. "Ohmygod," she cries as the orgasm continues to hum, having to reach down to still his hand once she edges closer to aching sensitivity. Rosie comes down just enough to realize they were pulling up to her building, wincing as she pulled away to shift back into some semblance of decency. As if that was possible after getting fingered in a car. Rosie chucks any further pretenses or judgment away from her mind, too keyed up to care as the door's opened and she drifts out first, reaching out for him again, eyes staring starkly down at the lap she'd recently vacated. "Come on, you look like you need some help with that."