Pushing Buttons

Who: Val and Jocelyn
Where: Park
When: Late

Jocelyn was aware that it was far too late to be out wandering after dark. If the streets weren't as brightly lit as they were, she would have never stepped outside of Babylon. As it was, she followed the streetlamps until she came to the park. She'd needed some time to be alone. To think. And ever since her last encounter with Val, she'd been having more and more trouble just staying in and reading the way she used too. But she hadn't really dressed up for a night of fun, despite her initial intentions of doing just that. Jeans and her leather jacket, her hair pulled back in a ponytail. There really wasn't anyone out she was looking to impress, that was for damn sure. Her mood had shifted considerably before she'd even left the club. It could have been the argument she'd had with her brother on the phone moments beforehand. It could have been the exhaustion she was beginning to feel with her job. It could have been a lot of things.

She sat on the grass, beneath a tree near one of the streetlamps, her knees drawn up and her hands curled together. She conjured the flames in her hands, held them, let them illuminate her face, and then let them disappear before repeating the process. There weren't many people in the park anymore, at this hour. The ones she could see were far enough away that they'd never get close enough to see the magic, or bother her. She just needed time to work through her mood, and then she would be all right. And then, maybe, she would find something worthwhile to do.

Val had just had dinner, meaning that an unsuspecting college girl was now passed out in the bushes missing a good amount of blood. Not enough to kill her, but enough that she'd bruised. But really, what possessed girls to make out in the park with a man they'd met in a bar? Not that all they'd been doing was making out, the bite down on her inner thigh. He'd been rather fortunate tonight, for she'd not screamed, the flip of a coin turning in his favor. He never knew when he'd have a screamer, when his bite would inflict pain rather than pleasure. Pleasure made it so much easier, especially when he was able to ramp up her emotions. She'd come right before she'd passed out, and she'd tell no one of their encounter, despite the teeth marks.

He'd gotten blood on his collar though, with annoyed the shit out of him. The taste was still on his lips as he wandered through the park, one carefully groomed nail picking at the blood. The shirt was ruined, unless he could beech it out. Damn her. He didn't even like it on him, and he unbuttoned the first two buttons, hoping he wouldn't be able to see it and that he'd forget about it. That didn't work. Instead, he continued to unbutton his shirt, glad he was wearing an undershirt, and pissed as hell that he'd be trashing another button-down.

Jocelyn looked up briefly from the tiny light still pulsing in her palm. She saw the figure wandering her way, though he didn't seem to see her. He was too busy taking off his shirt, which had her lips quirking into a curious, yet amused smirk. Why was it he appeared when she least wanted to see him? Still, maybe it was a blessing. She was in an irritable mood, and their truce only extended to...well, whatever. She didn't care at the moment. Stretching out her legs in front of her, Jocelyn crossed them at the ankle, wondering how long it would take him to see her. If he noticed her at all. The light died away from her palms quickly as she spoke quietly under her breath, eyes concentrating on him. It was an easy spell. One she'd had fun teasing her brother with when she lived at home. As she finished speaking, she could see all the buttons he was currently working at fall away from the material of his shirt and drop onto the ground around him. Even the ones he'd already unbuttoned. He was taking it off anyway, so she assumed he wouldn't mind.

Val's entire focus was on removing his shirt, so while he didn't see Jocelyn, he definitely noticed when all the buttons fell onto the ground. Scowling, he pulled his shirt the rest of the way off, attacking it as if it had truly done him some great disservice. It needed to be destroyed. It wasn't clean, it had blood on it, and now all the fucking buttons were on the ground and it had to be destroyed! He'd ripped both the sleeves off before his temper began to calm and he sighed, running his fingers through his hair. When he started to look around for a trash can was when he spotted Jocelyn and he paused. "Did you do that?" he finally asked, pointing at the buttons on the ground. "You ruined my shirt." Nevermind the fact that he'd been the one to shred it to pieces.

His entertaining reaction had her biting her cheek to keep from laughing. Jocelyn was feeling better already. She almost settled in on his shoes when he spotted her, ruining her fun. Jocelyn swayed her feet back and forth to a silent tune and rested her head back against the tree, an innocent, tiny smile on her lips that told him she didn't have a care in the world. "No, you ruined your shirt. Or at least what was left of it." She clasped her hands in her lap and shook her head with a pitying tsk in her throat. "I think maybe you ought to loosen the purse strings a little and invest in some quality clothing, Valentin. Maybe the kind where the buttons stay on."

"It was a quality shirt," he complained. "I only buy quality clothing. The buttons didn't just fall off on their own." But with the shirt in his hand, he was still tempted to rub at the blood stain until the threads started to fray. It didn't matter that the sleeves were gone; there was still a mark on the fabric for him to see. Finally, frustrated with it, he dumped the thing in the nearest trash can, then stomped off with a glare towards it, as if it had offended him as well. His attention turned back to Jocelyn. "Why are you in the park in the middle of the night?" he asked. "It's not safe." In fact, he could still taste the blood from his latest victim.

"Sure they did. I watched them fall off all on their own myself." She grinned as he shoved the ruined shirt into the trash bin. She owned a lot of nice clothing, but rarely got as upset as he looked if a piece frayed or fell apart. She certainly never ripped something to shreds before. But Val was a peculiar person. "Not safe?" Lifting one eyebrow curiously, she made a point of leaning forward to sweep her gaze around the park. "I don't know. I've been sitting here for awhile without anyone, or anything, bothering me." She rested her palms in her lap to refocus on her magic, even as she grinned up at him. "Are you concerned for my well being, Val?"

"Shirt buttons aren't strung together. They don't all fall off at once," Val said, looking at her pointedly. He couldn't prove she'd done it, except if she didn't, he couldn't explain it. And it had to have an explanation. It had to. "Well, if you weren't you, then you'd be dessert," he pointed out. "But you being you, you're safe from me. To anyone else, you're fair game." Not that she wasn't to him, but that their game was a little different. Physical harm was out of the question. "I'm not entirely sure you're sane," he said with a small smirk, walking closer to her. "Which would be such a shame, a pretty head all jumbled up, but still very interesting. Seriously, the park? In the middle of the night? Most people choose a bar if they're looking to meet people."

Jocelyn pushed herself up to stand when he took a step toward her. Not that she was afraid of him. He couldn't touch her. But she didn't like him being able to look down at her. She liked things being on even footing between them. "Shirt buttons fall off at once all the time. It's called cheaply made clothing," Jocelyn said, wiping her palms on her jeans before sliding them into the pockets of her leather jacket. She knew damn well she shouldn't push his buttons. But she didn't care. At the moment, she found the entire conversation too amusing to stop. And she knew it annoyed him, which made her feel better. "For one thing, I work in a bar, so if I was looking to meet people, I could just stay there. Secondly, I think it's a bit amusing that you would question my sanity when you just completely tore apart a crappy shirt because of a few buttons just happened to pop off," Jocelyn pointed out calmly, standing where she was and watching him.

"No," Val corrected, "I tore up a rather expensive shirt because it had blood on the collar. Buttons can be sewn back on." Though that wasn't to say he wouldn't have torn the shirt up for the buttons. Ruined, in his eyes, was not necessarily ruined in anyone else's. If he'd been home, perhaps he could have fixed it before his temper flared up, but the distance between his house and his current location was just too far. He couldn't go that far with blood on his shirt. It wasn't possible. "Blood stains. And it shows up on white. But you can still see it on black, as well. And even red. There's really no color that it blends into completely. It was already stained. Ruined." He'd have stomped his foot if he wasn't over two hundred.

Jocelyn watched him, showing no expression other than indifference, even though inside she was practically fascinated by the entire thing. It was more than apparent that his pretty mind was jumbled, but then again, she'd always been told that. It was just another thing to see it in action. She briefly wondered whose blood it was. And if they were still alive. "If the blood ruined your shirt, then don't accuse me of doing it. And while I'd say karma had a higher hand in it than I did, it was you who ultimately ruined your shirt." She shook her head and smiled. "As old as you are, you would think you wouldn't be so sloppy with your dinner."

"But you ruined the buttons. You did," he told her. "And it's not karma, it's-- Have you ever tried to drink something off a flat surface? Think about it. You drink out of a glass. Some people even spill doing that. The ice falls down to the top and it sloshes over. But I don't have that luxury. Try pouring your wine on the table then licking it up. Or poke a hole in the side of a water bottle and drink it like that. Then, when you've got water or wine all down the front of your shirt, you won't have the right to call me sloppy for a bit on the collar. It was only a drop, really. A little drop. Bleach might have taken it out..." And yet he'd destroyed it. It was utterly frustrating to hear himself repeat it, and yet not have been able to control the impulse to destroy the soiled shirt.

"I didn't touch your buttons," Jocelyn replied with a grin. Not literally anyway. "And you're right. I apologize, Val. Because even someone as old and experienced as you are still makes a mess from time to time. The difference between you and I? I don't tear my clothes apart if I spill wine on myself. You? Went insane over a drop of blood. And a couple buttons," she added as an afterthought. Jocelyn walked toward him, feeling ten times better than she had when she first got there. "Do you want me to buy you a new one? I think I saw that exact same shirt on the red tag clearance rack at the department store outside of town...buttons intact and everything."

"It wasn't a couple buttons," Val said, almost pouting. "It was all of them. And what is it with you and the thought that my shirts are of shitty quality? Do you actually think I'd waste my money on trash?" He wasn't sure why he was so offended by the idea, except that Val had always put work into being impeccably dressed. The only reason he wasn't at current was the fact that his shirt was in the trash and undershirts were rarely considered fine clothing, no matter how clean they were. "You are making a point to annoy me, lovely. Don't push it." Push his buttons hard enough and he would retaliate, despite the pain it might cause him.

"I'm not trying to annoy you, Val. Why would I do that?" Jocelyn asked innocently and shrugged again, her hands tucked firmly in her pockets. It was his own fault that he'd come upon her while she was in a sour mood. Pushing his buttons had made her feel better. So had making all of them fall off. Of course, it helped that he couldn't touch her. "I believe wholeheartedly that you spend a ridiculous amount of money on your shirts. I'm just saying monetary value doesn't always reflect on the clothing itself." She wrinkled her nose a tiny bit at his undershirt. "And sometimes it does."

"It's an undershirt, darling. It's not meant to be seen," he said, moving closer to her. She was far too comfortable for his liking. A little bit of a threat wouldn't hurt her all that much. "You really should be more careful. Didn't you hear that vampires are about?" Val invaded her personal space, one hand skimming her waist. If he'd been warm, she'd have felt his warmth, but on a night like this, there was nothing but his cool skin.

Jocelyn kept the small smile on her face as she tilted her head very slightly to study his face. She tensed when he touched her, but resisted stepping back and out of his reach. "The only vampire I've run into in this town so far has been you, Valentin. And you're not frightening enough to keep me indoors past sunset. But if there others wandering about? Witch, remember? I have fun ways of protecting myself from all sorts of things. Including you, if that were necessary."

"When is it necessary?" Val asked, leaning in, his breath against her neck. "At what point do you consider me a threat? Do I have to bite you? Is that when you fight back?" His hand touched her now, pulling her in, firm against him. He could feel her heart beat, feel every breath she took. Hers were necessary, while his were just a facade, a way to appear normal. His mouth moved up then, whispering in her ear. "I am not the worst thing out here, Jocelyn. Not by far."

"You can't bite me," Jocelyn reminded him, her eyes drifting shut at the feel of his breath on her neck and then her ear. It sent a shiver down her spine that wasn't necessarily induced by fear. She knew he wasn't the worst thing in Marquette. She worked in Babylon, after all. She knew exactly what wandered the streets after dark. Val, in her opinion, was tame compared to what else was out there. She swallowed hard, her neck arching just briefly away from him as her hand came up to press her palm against his chest. "If you don't take a few steps back, you're going to have more problems tonight than just your shirt falling apart."

"How much are you willing to wager on that?" Val asked. His teeth barely brushed her skin, not a bite, but just enough to knick the skin. She might not even feel it, the way she might not feel the slip of a razor against her leg. He wouldn't bite, not without knowing if he'd bring her pain or pleasure, but that little he could do, and when a drop of blood finally pooled to the surface his tongue brushed over it. Val shuddered and closed his eyes, then drew away. His control could only take so much.

She stiffened further when she felt his teeth graze her neck. She didn't know if it was from fear or, if she was being honest with herself, anticipation. She didn't know what he was doing. Or what he thought he could do, but she wasn't pushing him away the way every instinct inside of her screamed too. And then she felt his tongue there, where his teeth had just been, brushing against her skin and she inhaled sharply, a bit taken back at the way it made her skin tingle. When she felt him pull away, it seemed to wake her up from whatever lull she'd fallen into and she took a quick step back. Staring at him, Jocelyn lifted her fingers to the spot on her neck he'd touched. "What the hell was that?"

Val stepped backwards, his hands sliding down into his pockets. His eyes met hers, dancing with amusement, and his teeth bit into his bottom lip. Blood pooled there quickly and he sucked it off. It was a nice bit of pain, a reminder of the taste. "What do you think it was, lovely?" he grinned. "Just a kiss." He was so pleased with himself he could laugh, though that wouldn't be in his best interest at all. In fact, if he wasn't careful, she'd outright attack, and then they'd both be in pain.

Jocelyn lowered her hand to her side, her eyes narrowing angrily at him. "Is that what you call a kiss?" She attempted to keep her voice even. But she was furious, more with herself for letting him get close. For letting him touch her. For liking it. That sent a violently angry shiver through her and Jocelyn stepped toward him again until they were mere inches apart, her threatening gaze intent upon his. He was smug. She could see it in his eyes. The bastard. "Don't touch me again. If you do, or even try to, truce, or no truce, I'll make you very, very sorry. Do you understand me?"

He'd have let her go, if she'd stayed away, but she hadn't. There she was again, close enough to smell, and he couldn't help playing with fire, even when he knew he was going to get burned. "Make me sorry then," he said, and pulled her in for a real kiss this time, careful of his teeth. This was one time he wanted to avoid biting completely. He knew, as he was doing it, that he'd missed the opportunity to ramp up her emotions properly, that doing so now would only heighten the anger, but there'd be other opportunities. He'd be sure of it.

That she hadn't been expecting. It startled her at first and she blinked several times before her eyes fell shut and she lifted her hand to his hair, ignoring the urge to pull at it. Instead, Jocelyn slid her fingers through the soft strands, responding to his kiss with fervor, pulling him closer to her. She lifted her other hand slowly to her neck, her fingers wrapping around the silver chain that hung there. She waited, unable to resist taking a moment and tasting him. She'd been curious for so many years due to adolescent fantasies and intrigue. Val tasted... different than the other men she'd kissed in her lifetime. Intoxicating, despite the tiniest hint of blood she could taste on him. Or maybe because of it. Jocelyn gave a tiny moan of appreciation in her throat even as she pulled the chain slowly from underneath her shirt and gripped it in her fingers, the silver cross handing there between them. She pulled away from his kiss then, licking her lips and opening her eyes to watch his pretty face. Smug bastard.

The moment she started to respond, he tagged on her emotions, amping them up, begging her heart to race. Her mind was still there though, enough to pull her cross between them, and the moment he spotted it, he ripped away from her as if burned. His breathing came fast, unnecessary but always there, and he glared at her in frustration. It hadn't touched him, so there was no pain to share, but just being so close to it made him uncomfortable. "Damn you," he said softly, walking backwards, away. He'd been enjoying the game till then, till she'd brought her side into play. Now it was time to leave, to get away from the trinket she hung upon her neck. Just the sight of it made him twitch.

"You can't win them all, sweetheart," Jocelyn replied calmly, releasing her necklace to fall back against her shirt. In truth, her heart was racing. A painfully arousing mixture of their kiss and his reaction to her cross. Maybe she didn't need to physically harm him to torture him properly. At least now he knew better than to come near her. "I warned you, didn't I?" Sliding her hands back into her jacket pockets, she let her lips curve into a smug smile of their own before she began to walk backward in the opposite direction. "Pleasant dreams, Val."

"And who says I lost?" Val asked, straightening back up. Distance between them made the cross bearable, but he'd have to remember it was there. He wouldn't have that happening again. "It was worth it, darling, but thanks for the warning," he smiled, a flash of sharp teeth under the night sky. He knew her taste now, her blood, skin, and lips. He craved her, even while he couldn't have her. Any taste was worth it. "You too, my dear. Don't let the bed bugs bite." Or anything else, for that matter. If anyone was to be biting her, Val preferred it be him.

She decided against arguing with him over who actually lost there. She was damn sure he had, but if she said so, they might end up arguing it the same way they argued over who was responsible for the ruined shirt. Jocelyn kept on walking, her smug smile sliding into a sincere one when he grinned at her. He amused her just as much as he frustrated her, that was for damn sure. Laughing a tiny bit, she nodded toward him, raising her voice so he could hear her. "Believe me, there are no bugs in my bed to worry about. Try not to lose any sleep over it." Turning on her heel, she started the walk back to Babylon, her tongue sliding over her lips. She wondered if his taste would remain there for a little while longer. Despite herself, she kind of hoped it would.