#seta

"I know it's really not your bag, but at least try to be cool, a'ight?" Enjin grumbled to Seta as they walked down the street towards the dingy little bar they were meeting his friends at. She rolled her eyes and sneered at him. 

"'Not my bag,' my ass, dude. You're just worried your friends are gonna think I'm hot." She accentuated her point with a toss of her hair over her shoulder, a straightening of her blonde bangs.

"Whatever." Not a denial. He gave her a sideways glance, and they continued walking in silence for a few moments, before he spoke up again. "They don't really know about you, by the way. Like, who you are. To me." Seta stopped in her tracks, a brow shooting up on its own, her arms crossing across her chest in a way that made her tits look even better. Enjin pretended not to notice as he stopped and turned to look at her, returning the wary expression. "The fuck's that supposed to mean?" she asked bluntly.

"Damn, bitch, all that bleach is getting to your brain and making you stupid." He ducked out of the way of her fist on instinct. "It means, these people know I have a bunch of annoying little assholes following me around out here. They don't know who you are. So, y'know," he paused as he pulled out a cigarette, before continuing to talk around it, "you c'n be whoever you wanna be. With me. Least for the night."

As he lit his smoke, he could see the cogs turning in her head, the pieces of the puzzle that he'd just laid out and organized for her falling into place. She looked him up and down then, letting out a mischievous little hum. "Alright, then," she said slowly, an impish grin coming to rest on her face, her eyes sparkling under the streetlights. "Y'know that means you can't act like a freak if I flirt with your friends, though, right? 'Less you wanna be the one to blow our cover."

He was starting to regret bringing her already.

They made it to the bar without breaking into a full-on fistfight. Standing outside was a man with long hair and a goatee who called out when he spotted them. "Yo, Enjin!" He paused for just a second as he tried to discreetly check out Seta. "What the hell, man, you didn't say you were bringing one of your girls," he complained. "Bro—" Enjin groaned. Seta barked out a laugh, cutting him off. "One of his girls, huh? 'Fraid I'm just an old friend of his." She winked at the stranger as she offered him her hand. "Seta Valentine." The man stammered a bit, but found his composure. "Right, sorry. No offense, he just has a type. I'm sure you know," he chuckled. Taking her hand in a polite shake, he said, "You can call me Bro."

She leaned in, intrigued. "Bro, huh? Real name, or preferred?" She tossed a look over her shoulder at Enjin, who was trying very hard not to seethe; the halo of smoke from his cigarette could have been coming from his ears. Slipping her arm around Bro's, she let him lead her inside.

Enjin took one last hard drag, stomped out the butt, then followed them in.

His blood ran cold when he found the group sitting at a table with four chairs— Semiu, Gris, and Bro were all seated normally; Seta, however, had left the fourth chair empty, perching instead on Bro's lap with an arm around his shoulders, one of his around her waist. She'd made fast friends of them all, apparently. He watched as she said something that made even Semiu laugh, feeling his eye twitch as he noticed Seta's already short skirt riding up her thighs with every small movement in her precarious position.

She looked up and saw him staring, and he caught that devilish glint in her eyes again, for just a moment. Her unoccupied hand shot up, waving overhead as she called out, "Enjin! We're over here!"

His eyes flicked down, to confirm his dread suspicion; she was doing this as an excuse to grind her ass into Bro's lap. He watched as her thighs shifted left and right and back again, then forced himself to look defiantly into her sparkling eyes and start walking towards the group.

"Saved you a spot," Seta purred, as Enjin took the last seat, propping his umbrella against the chair.

"I see that," he acknowledged flatly, before turning his attention to his friends. "I'm sure she's already introduced herself to you two, but this is Seta. We used to try to kill each other; now we're mostly okay. She's in from out of town and doesn't know how to take 'no' for an answer, so I had to let her tag along. Sorry." He could feel her glaring at him as he spoke.

"He's being dramatic. I've never been anything but lovely for even a single second of my life."

"You stabbed me with a needle the last time I saw you."

"You deserved it."

Semiu barked out another laugh at that, and it was Enjin's turn to glare. She stifled it into a snicker with a hand over her mouth, saying, "Knowing you, she probably does have a point there."

Gris shot him a sympathetic look, then stood. "Here, Seta. I'll go get us some drinks and see if I can rustle up another chair, while I'm at it."

Enjin saw her smile fall by a fraction, but she didn't argue, which only made him more wary of what she was about to do.

She hugged Bro closer to her, whispering something into his ear that Enjin couldn't catch over the din of the bar. She made eye contact with him as she stood and maintained it as she exaggeratedly adjusted her skirt just to the side of Bro's head. She watched Enjin's eyes flick to Bro, who she assumed was staring at her ass, then back to her, his left eye twitching. Her smile was back at full force as she gracefully slid into the empty chair between Semiu and Bro.

Enjin gave her a look that said we've been here for two minutes and you're already showing your ass, in more way than one. She winked at him.

"So," Semiu started, and Seta's eyes snapped to her. The tension started to dissolve, at least for the moment. "Out-of-towner. Where ya from?"

Think fast, Enjin willed her.

Without missing a beat, "Canvas Town. Got a nice little place that I share with my sister. It's not too far from the Spellcaster's Mural; y'all should swing by the next time you're in town!"

Too much, he tried to say with his eyes, but she was having too much fun to notice.

"Really? I personally don't make it out there that often, but we work with Gob sometimes, so…"

Whatever, let her fend for herself. He shot a look at Bro; absolutely enraptured by Seta's bullshit. Nothing a kick to the shin under the table can't sort out, though.

Bro turned to him with a quiet, "What the fuck, man?"

Enjin just shook his head slightly, his jaw clenched. Bro's brow furrowed, and he glanced back and forth between Enjin and Seta, trying to make whatever was going on make sense. Enjin cocked his head at him, stare hardening.

Back off.

Bro seemed to get the message, sinking back into his chair.

Gris returned then, a chair in one hand, five bottles of beer impossibly grasped in the other. He divvied up the drinks and sat his chair between Bro and Enjin's. Enjin exhaled; Gris's grounding presence was already doing wonders for his highly strung nerves, mainly because he knew Gris wouldn't fall for Seta's stupid little tricks.

The group fell into friendly conversation; Seta, Semiu and Bro were chatting like old friends, with a polite interjection or question every now and again from Gris, and Enjin sulkily watching Seta, occasionally remembering to participate. 

Her shirt was too low-cut. Every time she laughed at something one of his friends said, he'd swear her entire tit was about to fall out. And she kept leaning over the table, getting closer to whoever was speaking, letting them be the center of her attention, all while gravity was working to make her indecent. Every toss of her hair and bat of her eyes was pissing him off.

Shouldn't have brought her.

A few rounds and a couple hours later, Seta announced to the table, "I need to pee," before turning to address Semiu directly. "Come to the bathroom with me," she demanded, already standing up and grabbing her hand. Semiu let herself be pulled along. Seta didn't bother adjusting her skirt as she led her away, both ass cheeks peeking out the bottom.

When Enjin turned back to the table, Bro was still watching as Seta walked away. He decided on the path of nonviolence this time, at least for now, settling to just glare at his friend for his transgression. Bro jumped a little when he noticed.

"What the fuck is going on, man?" he asked, his voiced colored with equal parts concern and agitation. "You said she's not your girl, but you're actin' like you're about to beat me over the head with Umbreaker every time I look at her."

"I never said she wasn't my girl. Stay in your fucking lane, Santa."

A confused glance between Bro and Gris.

"Well, she clearly doesn't know that. You might wanna check on that."

"Hey, guys—" Gris tried to cut in.

"Didn't ask for your advice. Maybe you'd have more pull if you weren't wearing your fucking baby blankie, Bro."

Bro's fist came down on the table. Both men had muscles coiled, ready to stand and swing at each other.

"Enough!" Gris roared, a heavy hand coming down on Enjin's shoulder. "You need to go take a smoke break. I'll be out there in three minutes."

"Whatever, man," Enjin snarled as he stood, snatched up his umbrella, and walked out the door.

Seta stood from a kneel, wiping slick from her mouth, as Semiu buckled her belt.

"That was nice, thanks," Semiu purred, hopping up to sit on the sink counter next to where Seta was leaning over it to rinse her mouth and fix her lipstick. "Be real with me, though. What's up with you and Enjin?"

Seta made eye contact with her in the mirror, quirking a brow. "What do you mean?"

"Man's been watching you like a damn hawk all night. How long have you known each other, again?"

Seta hummed, feigning consideration, as if meeting him hadn't been one of the more notable beats in her life thus far. Finding your biggest hater tends to be like that. "Since we were both young. Nearly as long as he's been carrying around that umbrella." She turned to face Semiu directly, leaning against the wall beside the sink. "He's always been overbearing when it comes to me; I learned to ignore it a while ago, if I'm honest."

Semiu looked at her incredulously. "That's all? You weren't his first love, or a really messy breakup that insisted on staying friendly, or, like, left him for someone with a bigger dick? The one who got away?"

Seta barked a hard laugh. "Fuck, no. Why? He said something like that?"

"Girl, he didn't need to. The way he's been acting tonight has been so weird. And that's not even getting into the whole looks thing."

"'Looks thing?'"

"When I say that you're his type, it's to a tee."

"Bro said something like that outside, when we got here."

"Yeah, because it's true. You're like an amalgamation of every chick I've ever seen him with. Respectfully, obviously. You're a total smoke show."

"No shit? Huh." Seta pursed her lips as she considered this. Then she thought about what Enjin has said to her on their walk here, and finally, finally, it clicked in her head. "Oh. Oh, fuck."

Enjin's second cigarette was half-smoked by the time Gris joined him outside. He took an angry drag as the other blond sidled up next to him.

"Enjin. What's going on, man?"

A dirty look and a scoff as he exhaled the smoke. "Don't know what you mean."

"Enjin."

He threw the cigarette on the ground. "I shouldn't have brought her with me," he muttered, not really wanting to address the ways in which he himself had been an ass tonight.

Gris sighed. "Look, dude. Nobody's mad that you brought her along; she's nice enough, and a pretty fun hang, from what I've seen tonight. What's bothering me is how you're totally stuck in your shell right now, unless you're snapping at someone for looking at her for too long."

Enjin ran a hand through his gelled-up hair, as he took a deep breath. "… Yeah. Yeah, that's fair."

"So, let me ask you again. What's going on?"

She's been trying to set me off all night. She's wearing that fucking skirt. She's getting too close to all of you.

I want her, all for myself.

The realization made him pull another cigarette from the pack. He sighed his exhale of smoke.

"She's… she means a lot to me. And I maybe didn't know the full extent of that, until just now."

Gris hummed, nodding. Then, after a quiet moment, a couple of calmer breaths, he said, "Think you ought to talk to her about it?"

The thought of such a conversation found him taking another hard drag. Shaking his head, he exhaled, "I don't know if that—"

Gris cut him off. "You probably haven't noticed because you've been rolling your eyes and staring daggers at Bro all night, but you're the first person she looks at when she cracks a joke. I know there's history between you two, and we don't have to get into all of that, but you really should just talk to her."

"… Okay. Sure, man."

"Okay. I'm heading back inside now. Finish your cigarette, and then you can come in and be that guy that ladies trip over themselves to get to, eh?" Gris socked him just a touch too hard on the shoulder as he turned to leave.

The door opened before Gris reached it, and out came Seta, looking around with her cheeks flushed. Enjin sprung to attention.

"Hey," he said. It came out more sheepishly than he had intended.

Her head snapped to him, her eyes sparkling under the bar's neon sign. "Hey," she said as she approached. "Um, sorry. I'm feeling a little sick. Could you take me home?"

She sounded truly pathetic, but Enjin had seen this act many times before. It worked like a charm on Gris, if his face was anything to go by, though, and gave him more than the chance he needed to get out of here with her. "Of course," Enjin said, closing the distance between them to wrap an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side. He addressed Gris again. "Tell everyone I said 'bye,' for me. Maybe throw a 'sorry,' in there, too."

Gris nodded. "No problem. You two be safe, okay?"

With that, Gris was gone, and it was just the two of them outside the bar.

The door closed, and they parted, just staring at each other for a few seconds.

Finally, she spoke. "Can I have a cigarette?"

He cocked a brow. "Since when do you smoke?" he asked, pulling another from the pack and holding it with the filter towards her.

She leaned down slightly and took the filter in between her lips, talking around it. "You do know I'm, like, a whole adult, right? Light me."

"Oh, trust, I know," he said with that smirk that made his dimples pop, his eyes pointedly raking her up and down. The corners of her lips quirked up as he lit her smoke.

She took a little puff, choking a little on the exhale.

"Thought you were 'a whole adult?'"

"You didn't—" a stifled cough, "— tell me you rolled these with fucking weed in them." She took another puff, handling the exhale better this time. "I woulda started bumming from you way sooner," she said with a wink, blowing the smoke into his face.

He didn't say anything, just huffed a laugh as he stepped towards her. His unoccupied hand met her hip, fingers stretching to grasp as much of her as possible, backing her up against the wall of the bar, not far from the door. She went along pliantly, looking up into his eyes with a look of bewilderment, trepidation, excitement.

He took a deep pull from his own cigarette, keeping the smoke in his mouth, then leaned down, pressing his lips to hers. She gasped softly, and he used that small opening to push the smoke into her mouth with his tongue. Her stolen cigarette was forgotten, dropped to the ground as her hands found his waist, bunching his shirt as she pulled him closer, drawing his breath deep into her lungs. She let out a devastating mewl as she deepened the kiss, exhaling through her nose to stay this close to him.

That sound. He needed to hear that again.

The hand on her hip migrated to her ass, a great squeeze pushing her hips towards his; she rewarded him with a breathy whine when she felt his half-hard cock brush against her. The fuck was this cigarette even doing in his hand? He discarded it in favor of touching her, both hands slipping under the hem of her skirt to knead at her perfect, gorgeous ass, growling as he pulled away from the kiss when he found there to be nothing covering her underneath.

"You fucking kill me, you know that?" he hissed into her ear. "I'm supposed to be talking to you about my feelings, or some shit—" a hungry kiss to her neck, teeth scraping, "— but I can't fucking think about anything except for how this skirt should be fucking illegal." He punctuated his statement by hiking up one of her legs by the thigh, wrapping it around his hip and pinning her to the wall. A rock of his hips against her bare core dragged another whine from her throat, louder this time.

"What if I told you I wore it because I knew it'd make you look at me?" she asked, batting her eyes at him.

"I'd call you a liar. You like it when everybody looks at you, not just me."

She hummed at that. "Yeah, maybe. But if you're not looking, then what's the point, y'know?"

He was a little dumbstruck at the tenderness with which she said it, so he kissed her again. She tasted like smoke and liquor; he wondered if she got a shot from the bar before coming to find him, if she needed liquid courage to break the boundary they'd observed for so long.

The door crashed open, startling both of them into looking up from each other. The bar owner, all bald-headed five-foot-four of him, stood with his arms crossed and a stern look on his face, staring them down.

"Enjin—" he started his usual spiel, in his annoying, reedy voice.

"'— the outside of my bar is not a fuck shack,'" Enjin mocked the man as he spoke along with him, having heard it a time or ten before. "What the fuck is a fuck shack, by the way?" He carefully returned Seta's feet to the ground, helping her to adjust her skirt before turning to address the huffing proprietor with a devilish smirk. "Sorry, man. I'd say it won't happen again, but, well. I think we both know better than that."

Seta giggled. He wrapped his hand around hers, intertwining their fingers, and started to lead her down the street as the man watched them go. He turned and flipped him the finger before they turned down a back alley.

Seta tried to pull him towards the wall, to resume what they were doing before they were so rudely interrupted, but Enjin kept walking. "Not that far from my place," he explained. "Need your tits in my face."

"Say less," she purred, letting him lead the way home.

She's on his face before he slams the door to his shitty little apartment.

There's dirty laundry on the floor, and on most every other surface. Takeout boxes and energy drink cans overflow from the kitchen trash can. His bed is a ratty mattress on the floor, not a bed sheet in sight.

Seta noticed none of that, though, preoccupied as they both were with taking the other's clothes off. Umbreaker was dropped with far less care than it deserved. Shoes were kicked off by the door, his jacket tossed haphazardly over a counter. When the kiss broke so he could whip her tank top over her head, he couldn't help but let out a desperate groan at the sight of her breasts.

First, her tits. Holy fuck. Every new part of her he felt, saw, heard, made him more convinced that this girl was specifically made to ruin him.

Then, there was the fact he honestly hadn't expected her to be wearing a bra, what with her lack of panties and how much of her chest had been falling out of her top at the bar. He was delightfully surprised by a lacy purple number, the exact color of her eyes, just barely cupping her boobs. Pretty. He pawed at her for a moment, then delicately traced a fingertip along the edge of it, up the strap, which he promptly pulled and let snap back to her shoulder, making her yelp.

"I'll kill you," she snapped, rubbing her shoulder to ease the sting.

"Couldn't help myself. Old habits, and all that." With that, he buried his face in her chest, breathing in her perfume. He was sure he'd never smelled something so intoxicating before in his life; like cinnamon and cherries soaked in syrup. She started combing her fingers through his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp, and he nuzzled into her. "You're perfect, by the way," he said, directly into her tits.

"Talkin' to me or to them?"

"Both."

She hummed in acknowledgment. "Don't tell me you dragged me all the way here just so you could huff my titties, dude."

"'N what if I did?" he asked, looking up at her from between them.

She rolled her eyes exaggeratedly. "Least take 'em out of the package first." She reached behind her back with one hand, but he batted her away from the row of clasps.

"So damn impatient. Anyone ever told you that?" he complained, as he easily unhooked her.

"A time or two," she replied with that damned wink, slipping the bra from her shoulders and tossing it to the side.

"Fuck," he groaned, the sight of her bare chest simply too much for him to be able to do something like speak coherently. He set about kissing and biting and sucking every inch of her tits, making sure to use his hand so the one he wasn't focused on didn't feel too lonely.

She tugged harder on his hair, pulling him up to crush her mouth against his again. His other hand joined the first, groping her right breast as its brother tweaked the nipple of the left. She basked in the attention, moaning into his mouth as he licked into hers.

Soon enough, though, she was grabbing at his shirt. She tried to yank it over his head by force when he wouldn't cooperate, all too eager to lavish her tits forever. "If you don't take this shirt off right now, I'm going to kill myself," she said against his lips, frustrated.

In half a second, his shirt was on the floor, his hands back on her body.

He gave her no time to appreciate his tattoos, so peeking at them between kisses would have to be enough, for now. Red and black clouds, which she was familiar with, rolled up his arms and into lines that flowed over his shoulders and onto his chest, up to the fanning spirals on either side of his neck. There was something going on with concentric circles over his navel, too; she figured that she'd have to be patient if she wanted a closer look at that one, so she settled for raking her nails over his muscles, instead.

She was impatient, though. Her pussy was aching, and, judging by the tent in Enjin's pants, he probably was, too. She reached for his belt, got that loose, unbuttoned his pants, then started to unzip her skirt, but he stopped her hands once more.

"Stop trying to do all the fun parts for me, fuck," he groaned, swatting her away and squeezing her hips in his hands.

She huffed into his mouth. "'M sorry. Want you." She snaked her hand into his pants, gripping his cock through his boxers. "Want this."

He growled, and she was no longer on the floor; he pinned her to the wall, shoving his clothes down just enough to free his dick, and her legs found their home around his waist. He shifted her weight so he could push up her skirt, then he took his cock in hand. He traced it over her slit, gathering her slick, coating himself in it. She rocked her hips into him, trying to force things along because, honestly, if you take one more second to get inside me—

She might have said that out loud, because he laughed as he slid into her, not giving her time to adjust to the stretch of him before he plunged all the way into her. She keened, arching her back off the wall, which gave him a prime opportunity to sink his teeth into one of her tits again, sucking a deep purple-red bruise into it, before doing the same to its twin.

He slowed his pace as he kissed up her neck, leveraging her weight to sink impossibly deeper into her, the tip of him kissing her cervix with every roll of his hips. In her ear, he mumbled, "Fuck. I was gonna give you shit for being an impatient little bitch, but you feel too good. Can't think."

She giggled, her fingers back in his hair, tugging lightly at it to make him look her in the eye, and he stilled. There was a hungry look in his glazed over eyes, pupils blown out, completely overtaking his golden irises. She took a moment to admire his face, really appreciate it, planting soft, open-mouthed kisses on his jaw, his cheekbone, the tip of his nose. He chased her mouth, and she gave him one deep kiss before she said, "Take me to bed, hm?"

The swiftness with which he acted convinced her that she could ask him to bring her The Sphere and he'd do his damnedest to get it for her. With one arm around her waist, holding her close, and the other cupping her ass, he crossed the room to his sad excuse for a bed, kissing her the whole way.

He lowered her to the mattress gently at first, but dropped her a few inches off of it, letting her plop down with a huff, his cock slipping free from her as she fell. She glared at him as he stroked himself between her legs.

"The fuck was that for?"

"You're hot when you're annoyed."

She rolled her eyes at him, and he let out an exaggerated moan as he lined himself up to sink into her again.

"Lucky for you— oh— you're literally the most annoying person I've ever met, I guess," she said as he filled her again.

With his hands behind her thighs, he pushed her legs up towards her chest, then started tracing lazy circles around her clit with his thumb. The new angle had her seeing stars with every roll of his hips, the tip of his cock scraping pleasantly at that sweet spot inside of her. She cried his name, clenching around him, and he gave her one hard snap of his hips. "Do that again," he growled.

"En-jin," she moaned, her voice ringing out loud enough that whatever neighbors he might have would surely hear it, too. He hooked her legs over his shoulders, leaning over to cage her in with his body, folding her neatly in half. He rutted into her, breathing into her mouth, and she pulled him down into another kiss, licking into his mouth hungrily.

"'M close," he grunted, pulling back just enough to look her in the eyes. They glittered with unshed tears of pleasure; however, if he wasn't so pussy drunk, he would have seen a more devious glint there, too.

"Wanna see a trick, first?" she asked, batting those damned eyes at him, and his mind immediately reeled with possibilities of what that could mean.

He nodded his consent, slowing the roll of his hips, but not stopping. Her legs slipped lithely from his shoulders to his waist (how the fuck is she so flexible holy shit) where they wrapped tight around him. With a startlingly strong twist of her hips, his entire world flipped in the most literal way, as he found himself underneath her, dick never even leaving her pussy, coming.

"What the fuck," he gasped, grasping at her rolling hips to ground himself as his vision went white. She just giggled as she kept grinding his cock into her, riding out his orgasm until he started to go soft inside of her, his senses and common sense returning on the comedown. He dug his fingertips into her thighs, stilling her. "I would ask where you learned that, but I have a feeling I don't want to know."

"Yeah, probably not," she affirmed as she swung a leg over his body to dismount him. His spend dripped down her thigh as she stood, stretching her legs. She took in the room, finally, noticing the generally abysmal state of things. "This shithole have a bathroom, or 'm I gonna have to walk home with your come dripping out of me?"

He sat up at that, suddenly more aware than he might have been all night. "You're not gonna stay the night?"

She cocked her head at him. "You want me to?" she asked as she set about gathering her discarded clothes, her skirt still rucked up to her waist.

"Well. Yeah," he said, mildly at a loss for words. All those times he'd gone home with a girl, rocked her world, and then promptly left were coming back to haunt him.

She was putting on her bra as she said, "Maybe next time, yeah?"

Next time.

"… Yeah. Next time. Wasn't really expecting company tonight, anyway, so that's…" She looked at him skeptically as he trailed off.

They were both quiet for a moment. "Bathroom?" she asked again.

He gestured to the door, and she disappeared. He tried to quickly get himself together, wiping his dick with a dirty t-shirt before righting his clothes. He was pulling a clean(er) shirt over his head when she emerged from the bathroom, arms crossed over her cleavage, blushing furiously. He stopped in his tracks.

"You good?"

"Not really," she said, letting her arms drop. Angry twin bruises layered over a hundred less intense ones peeked out of the top of her tank top. He couldn't help but feel proud of his work. "Don't look so fucking pleased; I gotta get past Grandma when I get home," she whined at him.

"You could always just stay," he said. Fuck, what was he doing? Begging?

"I told you, next time. Let me borrow a shirt; then I'll have all the more reason to come back, hm?"