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Date & Time: Wednesday morning; Jan 15th
Location: Blaine's house ye
Characters: Apollo & Blaine
Summary: naked people and guns
Warnings: see summary

Apollo isn't necessarily a morning person, especially not compared to Blaine, but she's somehow managed to wake up before him today. After spending a bit of time idly weaving a few strands of his hair into little braids like the ones in her own messy mane, she finally gets bored enough to roll out of bed and let her curiosity keep her occupied while Blaine continues to sleep.

It's that curiosity that leads her to discover his collection of firearms. And it's her own proficiency with firearms that gets her nosy and excited enough to snoop around for new toys.

So by the time he wakes up and goes to the kitchen, he can find Apollo sitting on one of the chairs, still naked from the night before (except for all of her jewelry of course) and quite possibly every single gun he owns (yes, even the ones he had purposely hidden) covering the table. It was totally unnecessary, sure, but good god is Apollo one impressed gunslinger right now. In fact, she's absolutely delighted too, sitting there with the brightest of smiles and her eyes lit up like it's fucking Christmas and she's a five year old girl holding an armful of new teddy bears. Only she's a thirty year old woman who is currently holding an armful of firearms. There's a rifle laid across her lap, a couple pistols shoved either between her legs or under her arm, and she's just about caressing the semi automatic rifle that she's currently holding, running her fingers over it as though it's the most amazing thing right now and inspecting it almost the same way she'd inspect a new partner.

So hey yeah, good morning Blaine.

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Blaine releases her foot and watches as she Apollo gets the twin to Kaboom. Sometimes, when she makes those extremely feline-like sounds, he imagines her with fur and hackles raised. If she had a tail, it probably would be all too perfect. It would lash around and accompany the stiffness of her wings when she got annoyed or angry at something. Giving her more animal characteristics was far to easy.

He reached out and took the guns, feeling their weight in his hand. They were heavier than his modern weapons, and despite looking the same he can definitely tell which is which. He lifted Kaboom and looked her over, down the sight, over her handle. "Explosive and heavy," he agreed. He could see why she might pack more of a wallop. Bang was lighter, and he turned her over in his other hand. "Easier to control if she's lighter. Were they always like this?"

The only reason she doesn't have a tail is because she's far too human for it; only the full blooded gryps have tails and anything less, well, obviously doesn't. In fact, she's missing a lot of visible, physical gryphon traits, although her more animalistic tendencies do come through her actions often enough.

Apollo shakes her head at the question. "Nope. Not to that degree anyway, I've done some fiddlin' with Bang to make her aim better, but this weight difference bullshit is new. I've been keepin' Kaboom on my left, she feels better there now." Which probably has something to do with the fact that part of her left wing is missing - it's not a terribly huge offset and she's lived with the ruined wing for years now, but the added weight of her weapon just seems to naturally fit on her left side. "What's your magic weapon, then? Is it Keisha?"

It took skill to wield two weapons at once with any kind of accuracy. Blaine wonders just how good she is at it, but doesn't let the idea distract him from her question. He shakes his head and offers Apollo her guns back. "No, Keisha's too big a girl to carry on me all the time."

He had thought about switching the Initiatives enhancements from the gun he had originally brought with him, but he never had. Said gun was still in the bedroom because he hadn't seen it on the table. Honestly, it would've been difficult for her to get that one without waking him. Of course she had braided who knows how many braids into his hair without waking him up, so who knew. At least she hadn't found a marker and drawn penises on his face.

But he hadn't looked in the mirror when he woke up either... No, she hadn't. She definitely would've busted out laughing at him by now, unable to contain her glee at her handiwork. No, his face was sharpie penis free.

"Clare," he said, momentarily thinking of a short curvy brunette, but it was quick and banished from his mind in a split second. The gun's name was similar but not the same, and if he hadn't named it before meeting her he might almost think the name was more special than it was. He had just liked it at the time. "She's in the bedroom."

The answer to that is very good, and she'd have been happy to inform him of that had he asked. She's ambidextrous because she trained herself to be that way, and she's an excellent gunslinger for much the same reason. As lazy as she gets nowadays, much of her history is filled with intense and constant training.

Apollo takes her girls back, and goes about putting each one back in her holster while she listens to Blaine's answer.

"Is she?" After both of her pistols and nice and cozy, Apollo decides she's going to make herself nice and cozy too - namely, by seating herself right in Blaine's lap. Without warning or asking first of course because pfft, asking. She has both of her legs slung over one of his thighs, feet held off the ground just enough so her toes won't have to touch the cold floor anymore, but she's turned her torso enough so she can be face to face with him. "Clare must be real fuckin' special then, if you keep so safe in the bedroom that I didn't find her."

The blonde sees her intention and instantly shifts his body to accommodate her on his lap. He's barely managed to steel himself before she's plopping her 150+ pounds onto him. He starts to move his leg up and down under her ass to make her shake. Kind of like when people bounced a baby on their knee, except she was a grown ass woman and he might be distracting himself by making her boobs jiggle like that. With the added jewelry maybe he can claim it was the shiny that distracted him instead of just tits.

It takes a second for him to process what she said, and she might notice that his eyes take a while before they meet hers. He usually isn't so easily distracted, even if he's horniest in the morning. "I was sleeping on her, so you would've had to move me."

Braiding his hair was one thing. Physically moving him was another. He let one of his arms drape over her legs and the older curled over his stomach while he shifted his weight back and forth, scooching down the seat one buttcheek slide at a time so he can slouch and tilt his head back easier to look at her. "Clare's the one I brought from home."

The moving of his leg doesn't bother her at all, and it takes her a moment to figure out why he's even doing it in the first place. By the time his eyes are back on hers, she's amused enough to smile, and although she doesn't call him out on it, it's obvious she noticed his wandering eyes.

"You normally sleep that close to loaded guns, then?" As if she didn't generally keep at least one weapon within arm's reach anytime she went to sleep herself. When Blaine shifts around underneath her, Apollo just stays right where she is on his lap, though she does put a hand on the center of his chest as he moves. At first it's just a reactive motion to ensure she does indeed stay in place, but very quickly it becomes an idle brush of fingertips and nails, tracing random, swirling patterns along his skin simply because she can.

"So you've had her a while, yeah? And-- wait, what the fuck, was she there all night? Were we rollin' and humpin' around on a mattress laden with loaded guns?"

There's... maybe a bit of concern in her voice over that, but mostly she just sounds curious.

If he feels guilty, which he doesn't, the saucy grin he gives her upon meeting her eyes would've hidden it. He had just bounced his leg because he thought it'd be funny, but it only took one move of his leg to realize that it was less funny and more arousing. A woman bouncing around on his lap is hot? Go figure.

"Yeah," he answered, his own fingers trailing circles on her thighs in the same way she's idly touching his chest. His hands are more of less staying around her mid-thigh instead of creeping up her inner thigh. For now. And then she's taking those mental steps that lead to an inevitable conclusion. He's very amused by her reaction and even more so that she calls it rolling and humping when it was a lot more like wrestling and fucking.

His head is resting on the back of his chair as he lifts his eyebrows slightly at her. "Just one gun." Because violently shaking the bed on top of one gun is nothing to be concerned about. That and it was holstered. He may have it in easy reach, but it was encased so that it going off would have to be on purpose. There was no accidentally pressing the trigger.

It doesn't take her long to shift the way that she's sitting on him so her thighs are angled towards him better, as though she's purposely encouraging his hands to trail circles in new places.

"So she's your bodyguard, is she?"

She is still genuinely interested in his weaponry and how he handles the arsenal, but now that she's in his lap and both of their hands are slowly starting to wander, Apollo's easily distracted nature is starting to catch up with her. She's not even making eye contact anymore, those multicoloured eyes of hers opting instead to watch the patterns she's tracing on his chest, then his stomach as her hands move lower.

"Y'know, I was gonna ask how the fuck I missed a fuckin' gun in the bed with us for a second there, but then I realized what a stupid goddamn question that is." But nope, definitely not something to be concerned about. Honestly, even if the gun had somehow gone off by accident last night, Apollo probably would have just laughed herself to tears over it as long as neither of them had been hit with a wayward bullet or anything anyway.

It isn't his hands moving further up her thigh. It's Apollo's legs shifting so that the area he's touching is more risque than the last. Really. His fingers slide across her skin and his thumb is a couple of inches shy of her core, but he doesn't traverse that last stretch of skin.

Apollo isn't looking at his face anymore, but he's still looking at hers. He's watching her eyes, her expression, gauging how fast the mood is changing. It didn't take much for either of their switches to be flipped, and her naked on his lap wasn't even the beginning of the end. Coming out of his room to her naked with a horde of guns was a signal his morning was going to be some kind of interesting.

Blaine's stomach muscles flexed under her hand and he kept a straight face even though he wanted to squirm. Considering how often she liked to paw at him, it was some kind of miracle that she hadn't discovered just how ticklish he was. Actually, it wasn't a miracle. It was because he had devious hands that always distracted her before his strength faltered and he laughed or had to wriggle away. Said hands were already on the move, closing that distance in a smooth, swooping motion that had his thumb slide up her folds and to her happy button.

He gave a soft, humming chuckle. "I'd have to work a bit harder if you'd found it."

She watches the muscles move underneath the touch of her fingers, smiling still and mildly curious as her fingernails lightly drag downwards. They stop once they hit the beginning of fabric, then move up again to trace more imaginary patterns onto his stomach instead. If Blaine had allowed her more time to experiment, she may very well have put two and two together and have become suspicious of possible ticklishness; but his hand slipping between her legs is distracting enough to get her off of that trail. Therefore, his little secret is safe - for now. Apollo shifts her thighs a bit to accommodate his hand better, immediately purring when she feels his thumb against her.

What were they even talking about? It isn't important enough for her to remember, apparently, and she's preoccupying herself with slowly draping her body over his instead. One hand runs quickly up and across his torso until it's gliding over his shoulder and snaking around the back of his neck, while the other rests low on his stomach, fingers toying with the waist of his boxers.

"Let's go shoot stuff. Well, y'know. After."

She offers no specifics here, but it's not exactly hard to figure out what she's thinking.

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