Moira NSFW Alphabet- D is for drunk flirting
This one is technically nsfw but there's no real smut here! The best part of being drunk is the build up anyway muehehe. Moira is a little OOC but it IS supposed to be an act- or lets all just pretend she's a bit drunk too. Whatever helps your immersion haha.
Content: NSFW/suggestive themes || drinking || CHRISTMAS TIME YAY || manipulative behavior || Moira acts nice || Barely proof read pls avert your eyes
Ahh yes. Another wonderful night of festivities planned by the Overwatch's incessant events team. Despite their endless emails and fruitless attempts to catch Moira in her labs she had done rather well for herself to avoid them till now. Alas, not even a genius can evade what is inevitable. She was eventually cornered and rushed by a particularly persuasive member of their admin, hastily shoved an invite to the final company-wide Christmas party and told that her attendance was mandatory- and should she not show her face then her Christmas bonus would be invalid. A cheap tactic, but she applauded them for their eventual win over her. This yearly bonus was nothing to scoff at after all, Overwatch seemed to truly embrace the season of giving- even towards their Blackwatch employees. Moira supposed that she could show her face, put up with the horrid music and dancing and festive spirit for one hour at most before retreating to her company quarters.
But there she sat, two hours into the party, about an hour and a half into their open bar. She somehow found herself sticking around long after her cordial "Hello." and "Me? Enjoying the festivities... of course." directed mainly at Winston. She felt less burdened by the noise and constant kerfuffle around her when she was nursing a rich, sweet brandy, swirling it around the chilled glass between her nimble fingers. She'd made an effort with her appearance no doubt, exchanging her modest and practical lab coat for a floor length gown with an swooping cowl neck, very apt for the semi-formal dress code on the invite. A pair of lengthy opera gloves sealed the deal by serving elegance and a purpose (to cover the growing amount of her arm that was tainted by a diseased purple). The satin material reflected all manner of deep purples blues and lilacs under the many disco lights- perhaps attracting more attention than desired. Attention from a certain someone. You.
The new lab technicians assistant- not even the lab technician, the assistant. You kept to yourself, quiet reserved and efficient- but civil nonetheless. The two of you were acquaintances at best having barely spoke beyond orders for chemicals and equipment and their delivery to her lab. Your mystery had enticed her at first, she wondered how someone so shy and soft spoken ended up in such a bustling environment filled with noise, deadlines and at times- danger. Still, as she looked at you from the bar she concluded that there was nothing interesting about you at all, as you were currently ferociously dancing with an elated Dr. Ziegler to ABBA's 'Dancing Queen'. Typical youths, she thought, drunk and disorderly behavior at a work event. She soon realised the mistake of diverting her attention to anywhere other than her drink. She preemptively rolled her eyes when your gaze locked to hers and you begun making your way to her quiet(er) corner, laughing heartily as you left Angela on the dance floor. She took a moment to take in your outfit, a high-necked black mini-dress with some sheer burgundy tights. She noted that heels were clearly foreign to you as you wobbled like a newborn faun over to the bar table. Endearing.
You hoisted yourself onto a stool and giggled nervously to yourself, "Didn't expect to see you here tonight Dr O'Deorain,,, thought this would be much too exciting for your taste." She was thoroughly taken aback by how confident and pronounced you were- perhaps you weren't so shy after-all. She smiled crookedly and raised a hand in defeat, seeming almost happy to entertain conversation with you. Or maybe she was just curious to see what you were like when you weren't hiding for some reason behind a storage trolley- what she could prod and poke out of you in your inebriated state. "You would be correct in that assumption, but I could say the same about you." She turned her body towards yours, leaning her arm on the bar to meet you at eye level. She studied your telling face, watching your eyes dart down as she crossed her legs, briefly exposing her sharp heel and ankle. "You're always so quiet when I summon you to my labs...I think this is the most I've heard of your voice." She lowered her gaze and chuckled as you absentmindedly ordered a drink. "I can not fathom why you would be so hesitant to make conversation at work." You took a sip from your shmancy glass and smiled sheepishly. "Same reason as everyone else Doctor, I'm only human." Moira drained the remnants of her brandy and moved herself closer. "And what reason would that be?" You could have sworn you felt the end of her heel ghost around your ankle, sending a ticklish sliver up your body. "W-well. You know- your reputation precedes you... y-you're known to be a bit- uh." You took a hasty sip of your drink. Moira lent back and finished your sentence for you, "Discourteous, hostile, dismissive, uncooperative...mean. Take your pick." You giggled again nervously, thinking of her stern and scornful face that you couldn't help but want to see desperately.
You couldn't possibly disclose that the reason you avoided her so avidly was that you had a rampant workplace crush- which even you couldnt rationalise, because Moira WAS generally as others described her. But tonight, you certainly got an eye-full of what was to fall for. Her slender and elegant figure was usually hidden behind a more than modest lab coat- you almost felt like a prude when your stomach twisted with butterflies at the sight of her collarbones- the pale freckled skin just above her chest. For a second your mind wandered to how it might feel to run your fingers over them- would she feel tickled? Would she shiver and laugh or would she remain still. As your attention was carried away from the conversation you thought harder about why you liked her so much. Perhaps you didn't mind her supposed 'harsh' tongue- maybe you didn't mind the way she crowded your space and cornered you to scold you on your mistakes. Maybe you didn't mind the feeling of her eyes boring through your foggy, flustered head.
"Is anybody home? Or are you so impossibly intoxicated that you can't hold a conversation with me?" You snapped back to the conversation to Moira inches from your face. You dread to imagine how flushed your cheeks must have been as she withdrew. Picking up your drink with a sweaty hand you practically chugged it, hoping that the extra alcohol would help distract and potentially lead you away from this dangerous interaction. "Why did you come over to speak with me, hm? If I'm such impertinent company?" She watched your thighs tighten together, your hair falling ungracefully over your face. "I- uh. I just- y'know, I've never seen you outside of work before and you just looked so- I mean, you were-" You cursed yourself for rushing on the alcohol all throughout the night, now totally helpless trying to string a sentence together. You racked your brains. "I thought I would come and offer you company because nobody should be drinking alone at a Christmas party!" You said hastily, letting out a large sigh as you finished. "How generous of you." Moira flagged the bartender, signaling for another drink- two of them. "Do you want to know what I think?" You picked up your empty glass, desperate to do something with your hands which were now stupidly close to relieving the growing ache between your thighs. "I hypothesize, that you don't think I'm such poor company at all." This time you absolutely felt her foot drag up your calf, and this time you know she saw how your whole body tensed in response to the contact. You looked around briefly to see if anyone else was witnessing it- or to see if somehow you'd fallen asleep and were now dreaming.
Jesus Christ. Moira O'Deorain- flirting, with you. You had ruled anything with her out of the question- hell, you'd guessed she had limited interest in any sort of intimacy at all. Let alone with you. Your addled mind couldn't even fathom that she could be putting on a front- playing with you, just for the love of the game. "I've wondered for some time if your childish avoidance was a product of attraction, introversion or a simple symptom of gossip. I suppose now that I have my answer, what shall I do with it?" You wondered of she would allow you to pry further. It was clear neither of you were quite- hem- vanilla. You wondered what she would do to you, what you'd never even explored yourself. Scenarios that you never would have considered without her involvement.
The truth of the matter was, however, that Moira was not the slightest bit interested in a relationship, not now anyway. She was far too busy to delegate real attention to a fleshy, horny, emotion ridden thing such as yourself. She was, however, interested in entertainment. Perhaps for the night. Perhaps in the coming days at work. The possibilities were practically endless when she could summon you to her labs at any time- perhaps even under the guise of needing 'help'. She wondered how far she could push you, how far astray your blind and inexperienced self would allow her to lead you. She supposed she would just have to find out.
But for now, your next drink had arrived- and there was a new song to dance to.
