She is always so carefree. Fearless to consequence because she never faces any.
Elian does not know what it is like to take a step, and not think about what it would cost him. He follows, because there is no other choice. It is this, or Najelon and whatever the demon has concocted for punishment. Though, he felt as though listening in full eluded both of them, even when Eli used his words.
He does not enter the suite's in the club unless asked, and he certainly does not use them for his own isolation. Raven has reign that Elian would never possess, just as she has a mind he will never understand, nor decipher.
"You keep saying that." A habit she might have, but one that Eli did not know; innately designed to sit on the edge of oblivion, and teeter on the precipice of the end. Relax, makes him shake his head because the dark spots of memory, or the questioning in his gaze does not know what it means. It does not know what it is to not be on guard, or watch for a knife in his spine. Raven's orders sound like Najelon, and he cannot deny the one who carved the sigil into the same spine he straightens of its tension.
Under Raven's touch, he stumbles onto the lounger. Cushions break his collapse, as her pushes up onto his biceps, staring at her in sudden bewilderment. He swallows, glancing to the door, once. And then back to the woman crouched between his legs. "Raven." he hisses, almost demanding an answer out of her that is no riddles he struggles to translate. "I do not know this game."
And then his eyes dip lower as he pushes further up on his arms, unsure if to slam his legs shut and crush her head from her demanding gestures. Eli thinks he understands now, and this game is not one he plays very often. Not with Raven. And less with Naj.
There is no use in arguing inevitability (so he thinks), because Raven is stubborn and she is the spokeswoman for Najelon. His second in command, despite her languishing role. "Why do you want this?" This does not serve her? He thought he knew demons and their ways, but she is mortal, and she digs claws in him all the same. Games often had victors, just as they had losses. "You are playing with me."
Eyes that fixate on her, and fingers that curl in against his palm, thighs that threaten to bring him to a stand again. Elian did not want to use her; he wants to do enough to satiate Raven, so then the demon would not carve portions of his skin from the bone. Whatever that entails does not matter. It is a means to an end. Elian didn't need to remind either of them where her mind wandered to at every other moment, and what exactly they would do if they disliked their salaciousness. Eli cannot help the swirl in his stomach, or the questioning of the intention. "Najelon said this?" She could just wander the club, and play? "You are with him."
Shit. What is he supposed to do?
Eyes flew to the door again, as if he would walk through the door and see what was his, spread on a lounger, with another on her knees.
