Patience is a virtue (Amos & Mark)

[Sophia Klein]

What a fucking week.

Sophie spent three days in Italy, two days in Russia, and one day in Germany for her job as D.O.G.S Commissioner. She had to meet with certain ‘business’ associates and discuss the future endeavors of her ‘company’. The meetings were long and boring; hardly anything she could call relaxing; and the trip itself was just an addition to the stress that was already growing in her head. Besides the one human that tried to rob her in Russia and became a delicious dinner instead, nothing about her European adventure had been rewarding. Her business associates were pissed off, her superiors were disappointed, and her colleagues were turning out to be complete imbeciles.

Since Sophie was Commissioner, everything that went wrong was pinned on her shoulders. If an assignment was carried out poorly, she got in trouble for a lack of advisement. If someone fucked up and turned out to be a traitor, she was at fault for trusting them. Worst of all, if enemies decided to infiltrate her ‘company’ and decimate half of her crew, she was charged with poor defense; which meant that she might as well say goodbye to all of her private funding because no one wanted to invest in a defenseless moron.

Sophie’s job was tough, and everyone knew it. No one wanted to deal with half of the things she was in charge of, but perhaps it’s because she was the only one with the right amount of patience. When Sophie didn’t get what she wanted at first, she knew there would be a way around it. Some things took time, perhaps more time than most would expect, but as long as Sophie had a goal then she would follow through with it. She just hoped that her colleagues would get their acts together before she had to show them how far her anger truly spanned.

- - -

Today was supposed to be her day off (she left Germany earlier than expected), but since Sophie didn’t have anything better to do than make her employee’s lives a living hell, she decided to return to work early. The familiar gothic buildings gave her a mild sense of comfort as she entered the main office at their center. She was happy to be back where people were well-acquainted with respecting her. Taking shit from all her superiors was far less exciting than making her employees cower in fear. When she entered the building, she walked right up to the front desk and slid her slender arms across its surface. Her auburn-brown hair shifted down her shoulder and she tilted her head to the side, smiling softly at the man who immediately scrambled to organize his papers.

“Hallo, Stefen” Sophie said to the man, her voice thick in a German accent. “As you cehn see I am back early from my trip. I hafe not heard any messages – but between you and me, I hafe not checked dem.” She paused to wink at the man and he fumbled around with the pencil in his hands. “Be dat as it may, I vould like you to hafe Amos check dem for me. You can do dat, can’t you?” The man nodded numbly, as if speaking to Sophie was beyond his jurisdiction. “Fery good, I knew I vould be able to count on you. Now, I vould also like to speak vith herr Daniels. Is he here?” Silently, the man nodded a second time and readied his hand above his work phone. “Excellent. Vould you send him to my office? I must speak vith him right now. Notting is more important.” With another wink, Sophie pushed away from the desk and made her way towards the elevators. Thirteen floors and two halls later, she was entering her office and hanging her jacket on the back of her chair. The rest of her outfit consisted of a tight-fitted business suit with black pants and a dark green, v-neck blouse (which brought out the color of her eyes). She took a deep breath, sat down at her desk, and slowly folded her hands against the desktop. Dealing with Mark was one of her most favorite and intolerable daily events.

[markdaniels]

To be terribly honest he hadn’t a clue why he was around here. Well, second thought he did. He was here flirting, no less. Though he had a bit of a hangover and a bruising from the night on the town with Amos, he was rearing to go and how better to do so than flirt around the business? He tended to be utterly professional here… to an extent. Yes, yes, he kept to his wing and his business and very rarely dallied to speak with anyone else but… this afternoon he couldn’t help it at all. He felt cheery. And happy. And just wasted enough (he had began drinking a little early today, it was his day off after all. Then again every day Sophie was away from the Company was a day off for him.) to do the unthinkable - look around. Wandering around the massive D.O.G.S complex he found himself, well, lost… and in the company of a smoking hot secretary no less. And that was where he found himself when he was called. Chatting away with his usual confident swagger when her tele-phonie rang and… well, by Jove they were looking for him! Puzzled, he looked at the darling and frowned somewhat. He was wanted in the Commissioner’s Office? Wasn’t the Witch suppose to be gone? His brow wrinkled in a mixture of confusion and emotion. One, dislike. Two, a realization that chances are he was fucked. His clothes were not clean nor neat… and he smelled like cigarettes and cheap liquor. With a little bit of scruff on his mug. And, well, fact of the matter was the bitch hated his guts from the get go, so any excuse to bitch at him more was going to be taken… Ah, well, little he could do about it now, hmm? Smiling to the dear he bid his adieu before strolling off in the wrong direction. If not somewhat on purpose. Truly he did not want to go to his execution as soon as he could. Matter of fact, maybe a little breakfast would due first… A man could not fight a dragon with an empty stomach, now could he?

Roughly a hour and a half later, there he was. Walking the final stretch, with a glass of orange juice and a half-eaten biscuit in one hand, and a bag of steaming breakfast in another. McDonalds no less! And utterly delicious, one might as well know. Though the bag he had was hardily for him (he had already woofed down his delectables at the restaurant, though still the orange juice and biscuit remained). He figured, though with little true hope in the matter, that if he had any chance of getting out alive, lush as he was, he’d need to… kiss ass a little. And getting the pretty little devil breakfast had to give him some sort of brownie points in his favor. Surely? Mean really, everyone loved McDonalds and the shit wasn’t cheap! Thinking to himself he imagined how it would go, with good ol’ Donalds on his side. She’d bite into the McGriddle and then all of her desire to eat him alive (unless, of course, eating him meant… well, you know -wink- -wink-) would vanish and instead she’d simply sigh with pleasure and delight. Afterwards she’d fawn over him, remarking how handsome and strong and kind he was. … And then they’d make love all over her desk, ruffling the papers and perhaps leaving a few scratch marks on the heavy wood desk she possessed in her cave. Sounded pretty fucking good to him. Thank God for McDonalds huh? Miracle Griddle, that sounded like a good name to him!

Spotting Amos manning the desk, he offered the whippersnapper a big, broad, pleasant smile. After all, wouldn’t do to show fear right before death and decapitation, would it? Laughing a little (if only for his own reassurance) he offered a little whisper to the gent, “If I’m not out in twenty, put a Do Not Disturb on the door. Cancel her appointments. Taming of the Shrew in progress.” He said, cockily even if he didn’t quite think that… if twenty minutes later and he wasn’t out, that’d he’d even be alive. But, hey, who knew? Maybe luck was on his side today. Maybe Amos was right. Maybe Sophie used all this hate and animosity just because she could not express her true feelings correctly. She loved him. She wanted him. And she wanted to have his babies. Plain, simple, sweet and succulent. Too bad she couldn’t just say she wanted in his pants instead of screaming his head off over the darndest things, but, alas… alas, alas…

Before knocking tentatively on the door Mark paused, took a moment to compose himself and then… knock, knock, knock. A short, quiet little rap-a-tat-tat it was… followed by the most sweetest, “Soopppppphieee my love! I’m home!” Which was said cheerfully, no doubt. After all, he had the full intent of being pleasant as he stared the dragon down in the face. Takin‘ one for the team, he was. Oh-yeah.

[Sophia Klein]

Sophie was an incredibly professional individual. She dressed decently, conversed softly (unless she was angry) and paced herself in a prompt and timely manner. Sophie has never missed a meeting, she’s never called out sick, and she has never, ever missed a deadline. Missing a deadline, according to Sophie, is basically pleading for dismissal. How should a boss take their employee seriously when something as simple as meeting them in their office could be so easily neglected? Yes, Sophie was pissed. She had been waiting patiently for ten minutes, but ten minutes turned into twenty, and twenty minutes turned into forty; so by the time Sophie heard Mark’s knock at the door she was about to call Amos in and strangle the boy on Mark’s behalf. Fortunately, however, the little bastard showed up just before she reached for her phone.

Sophie’s brilliant green eyes retained an odd glint as they jerked towards the door upon Mark’s arrival. There was something strange within them, something wholesome and pure, and rarely ever seen in her gaze. She found herself transfixed by the sounds of Mark's knocking, as if some other world were playing through her head, but within moments the reverie was broken and all she could feel was a building sensation of unadulterated rage.

One hour and thirty minutes late. Mark Daniels, Assistant Commissioner to one of the most funded private businesses in modern Europe, was one hour and thirty-fucking-minutes late. Sophie’s hands – which had been previously crossed atop a detailed letter she was writing to an associate in Scotland – broke apart to form two, white-knuckled fists. She squeezed and released her right hand while Mark’s voice penetrated the confines of her office, but she could not calm her growing temper.

Mark Daniels thought it would be cute to call her ‘Sophie’. Mark Daniels, Assistant Commissioner and screw-up extraordinaire, had deemed himself worthy enough to call her ‘Sophie’. Only two people ever called her Sophie in her life, and the Klein’s had been dead for many years now. Obviously, Mark Daniels needed to learn his lesson. Assistant smart-ass, loud-mouth Commissioner who showed up to his boss one hour and thirty (three) minutes late, needed to learn what ‘punctuality’ meant in this company. Smiling, Sophie released her hands from their tensely squeezed fists and glided over to the door. “Ahh… Herr Daniels, I hafe been vhaiting for you,” she said softly, her body moving against the door frame once she had opened it.

She studied Mark with a pair of penetrating green eyes, their brilliance framed by thick lashes. “Vhat ihs this?” She questioned upon seeing the food in his hands. When he motioned that it was for her, she feigned a perfectly believable sigh and lifted her hand to his shoulder. Her touch was tender yet firm, complete with massaging fingers that rubbed into the fabric of his shirt. Since her right hand was busy with his shoulder, she took the food from him with her left, and tipped onto the balls of her feet to whisper softly against his ear, “Really… you shouldn’t hafe.”

There wasn’t much doubt that Mark would feel flustered when Sophie led him into her office by his collar. She walked backwards, gesturing for him to close the door behind him, and stopped them at her desk to deposit her food. Mark Daniels, Assistant bastard to the Commissioner, was surely one hell of a cute puppy. Even as she saw him in his current state with dirty clothes, a five ‘o clock shadow, and alcohol on his breath, she couldn’t deny the attraction she felt. She wanted to toy with him further if only to have an excuse to touch him. As D.O.G.S Commissioner, however, Sophie was Mark’s boss. Her job was to make sure that he didn’t fuck up – so she didn’t fuck up – and that usually meant keeping a level of professional conduct. The only reason she was toying with him now was to teach him a valuable lesson.

“Is dis vhat took you so long. Vhere you being so… dthoughtful as to go out of your vhay and get me some delicious fast food?” She peered at the bag of McDonald’s as if it were her favorite meal, which was ironic considering Mark’s personal thoughts. If he reacted like she presumed he would, then it wouldn't be long now before her questionable nature was revealed...

[markdaniels]

Now, now, now he knew her name was Sophia but, considering who he was and who she was… and considering their delightful three year history together he couldn’t help it if she was too much a sex kitten in his eyes and deserved the title of Sophie. Not that he had any less respect for her! Oh, no sir, no sir at all! He loved women in charge, couldn’t help but get a little eager when one was on top. He enjoyed her company (when she wasn’t on her period. Which was always. But nonetheless…) and simply lived for complimenting and flirting (one-sidedly) with his Commissioner. She was a stunning, beautiful, intelligent and strong woman. Traits hard to find in today’s world and traits he valued. She was one sassy, sexy bitch. And she drove him wild, too, and he had a feeling in the deepest darkest depths of his soul that she knew that. After all did she really think he was her loyal pet for so long, and did so well, simply because he was an ‘expert’ and the money was good? Truth be known his income was excellent but it was excessive. He would have worked for the same pay as a paperboy and it wouldn’t have made any difference. Now, if Sophie here had been a man, would she have gotten the same quality of work and employee? Perhaps not. It was doubtful Mark would be as colorful as he was if all he had to head back to was some hairy bloke with a train rail up his ass. And it was doubtful that he wouldn’t just go ’Tch. Fuck it.’ when the man started to whine about Mark’s worth ethics and work habits and simply walk out on the bitching. That was a fact. … Not to say that there might not ever be a time when he did that to Ms. Klein, but the big difference would always be that… he would come back. Despite all her bitching, all her feuding, all the shit she gave him… He’d come back. … Especially if she was in one of those hotass suits. Man did they make her Look a kitty! pop… Oh, he had to admit perhaps this one was his favorite. Was it new? Surely the shirt was. Such a nice green, and then that neckline… He’d have almost smacked his lips and whistled… but that wouldn’t have been very appropriate would it?

When she opened the door he was, surprised somewhat. Not just because of her attire (he usually did like her attire, he had to admit. It made him wonder if she picked it out herself, or had one of her running maids do it for her… Not that it wasn’t potatoe, potato in his books. She looked striking. … In all the right ways, of course.) but… at his… welcome. Her low, smooth tones and her stationing herself like that? He looked at her curiously for a moment, unable to get his mouth unhinged quite yet. When she asked, he only handed her his goodies. Still watching her mutely as she rubbed his shoulder (which felt utterly good, he might add) he finally worked up the gall to smile, when she reached up to whisper in his ear. His smile genuine and handsome then, “My pleasure Sophie, I can only imagine how difficult those men were in your meetings… Should have let me come along, you know. We might have been able to save it and make a vacation out of it yet.” He said, his smile still pleasant as his blue eyes remained on her green ones. It was evident in the depths of his that he wasn’t quite sold yet. Almost, but not quite… but he was careful that he didn’t express too much suspicion. After all, she could keep her hands on him all she liked. He promised he wouldn’t sue for sexual harassment. Hell, if the door was closed… who would know about any misconduct that might occur?

Daniels examined his boss quite adamantly, picking up just so easily on all her signals. She wanted him over there? With her? … He shut the door with a gentle shove of his foot as he walked into the rather spacious and well-designed office. Following her as she lured him into the deepest circlet of hell and misery, he couldn’t deny that something was up. He wasn’t a stupid boy. But at this moment, where there might be a little uncovering of their relationship (and perhaps of her sweet, sweet bare skin) he couldn’t help but throw that ‘sense’ to the wind. … Though the booze in his system did little to aide in the ‘be wary, all ye who venture forth’ sentiment, no one who knew Mark Ethan Daniels would doubt he wouldn’t have fell for this trick sober as well. It was too good to be true, yes… but… “I’m afraid so.” He said with a little frown, “I wasn’t sure what you’d like, Sophie.” Around here would be when he began to touch her, but something made him stop just within range. Women were the Forbidden Fruit after all… mmm? The thought from the other evening came to him and halted his steps. A very visible hesitation it was. How would she handle it?

[Sophia Klein]

Sophie licked her lips absently while Mark proceeded to glance over her enticingly-placed form. His blatant stare amused her, since it wouldn’t be the first time he had looked at her in that way. But the same could be said for a lot of men. They stared at her and lusted over her physical beauty without giving any mind to her intellect. To them, she was just a good fuck; her companionship was a notch on their belts that would be used in order to boast and impress the simple-minded. If that’s the way men were – especially when it came to her – then she’d rather just take her chances with forgetting about the fantasy known as ‘love’ altogether.

Mark Daniels just so happened to be one of those overconfident men that she desperately loved to hate. The way he looked at her was repulsive, simply because it was the way he looked at every woman. It was bad enough she had to entrust Mark with a task; but surely trying to entrust him with morality was beyond comprehension for the pup. He wanted every woman at any time with a decent smile and a nice pair of legs. It made Sophie sick. Whether this was because she hated how unprofessional Mark’s attitude was or because she secretly wanted to rip all of his clothes off, no one really knew. The subject was quite debatable (and nearly everyone in D.O.G.S. found it to be good filler when there was nothing else to talk about). Needless to say, Sophie’s unfortunate desire for her Assistant horn-ball Commissioner would never be put into action. She may have trusted him as a valued employee, possibly even as a friend, but Sophie Liane Klein would never trust a puppy like Daniels as her mate; not the way he was and likely forever would be. Boys, such as he, never matured, and the same thing could be said about werewolves. Not only are they doubly proud and confident, but they have a roaring temper to boot. You did not want to fuck with an adrenaline-rushed, violently angered werewolf pup, because chances are, you would probably get your head ripped off. That’s the reason werewolves are rarely seen at the bars; no one wants to deal with the headache of a bar fight when pups are involved. The mess afterward is far from pretty.

Despite Mark's juvenile appeal, Sophie Klein wanted nothing more than than to enjoy the trick she was playing on him. She wanted to throw her responsibilities aside and make enough noise so that the entire thirteenth floor had borne witness to her decision. The truth was, however, that reality’s a bitch; and the charade she was playing would eventually have to come to an end. Her job was to punish Mark so flawlessly that he hated her worse than before. That’s just the way it was. After all, wasn’t it better to be feared than loved?

Before Sophie had a chance to decide, Mark opened his cocky little mouth, but surprisingly nothing witty came out. He didn’t even antagonize her or try to craft some smart-ass little lie. All he said was, “My pleasure Sophie, I can only imagine how difficult those men were in your meetings… Should have let me come along, you know. We might have been able to save it and make a vacation out of it yet.” My pleasure Sophie? Make a vacation out of it? If Sophie could understand love, she might have very well succumbed to it right there. She would have abandoned her plans and given herself exactly what her selfish little heart wanted. But unfortunately, Sophie wasn’t weak; she was hard-pressed to act according to the way she’s always acted, which meant following through with her ideals. The barrier to Sophie’s emotions would require an Earth-shattering explosion before anything ever got through it.

Without a single falter, nor a moment of hesitation, Sophie sat on the edge of her desk and slid back a few inches until her feet weren’t touching the floor. She shrugged her shoulders and smiled at Mark, wondering what crazy fantasies might be floating through his head. “Dey vhere fery difficult… so difficult, in fact, dat I had little faycation at’all. I must say dat I am happy to be back…” Her smile pulled to one side and appeared mischievous as she reached out to grab Mark by his shirt and bring him closer. Once he was before her, she wrapped her legs around the backs of his thighs and trapped his form against her own. “Oh, I dtink you might know vhat I like…” she said blatantly, her hands sliding up his chest to grab at his collar. She pulled him until their eyesight’s were level. “Vhy are you hesitating… can’t you tell me vhat I like?” Mark’s answer would determine this entire situation’s outcome.

[markdaniels]

What was going on in his head? Red flags. He was an assassin, though really ‘assassin’ made one think of someone with such finesse and style. Truth be known he was more like a killer, a murderer, a gun-for-hire. But all the same he worked in that field. He killed people. After killing people enough one not only gets saddled with scars (Daniels was no exception - he had plenty), memories (nightmares plagued his dreams to be truly honest. He hadn’t had a good sleep in over ten years. Fucking wife was a fucking slut, but she was the best sleep he ever had. Didn’t even have to be doing anything naughty. Just the feeling of her beside him, her legs pretzel’d around him, her hand on his chest, her head on his shoulder. Made him seem like a pansy, true, but Mark enjoyed moments like that quite a sum. It made him relax, put his guard down. Shamelessly.) paranoia (yes, he was paranoid) but they also got a new set of instincts. Murderers knew when they were in danger. When things were about to go horribly wrong. But the problem with Mark was, was that he was a dreamer. Someone who hoped for things. The very idea that she might be being authentic made him want to roll over and submit… even if everything in his head told him to get the fuck out of dodge because she was about to rip every organ inside his body out and stick it on a skewer for roasting. But alas, he was in her web and knew, very well, even if he wanted to he could not get away. What was going through his head as he watched the sultry little vixen go about everything so nonchalantly? Everything and nothing all at once. Primal things, as well as civil things… as well as no things at all. He wondered how she tasted, was curious about how she felt. He wondered if she meant it… she wondered if she was truly so cruel. He wondered what she was thinking… He wondered if they were going too far. He wondered if he could please her. He had a feeling that he could. He wondered if he was a fool, while knowing, instantly, that he was. He was very much a fool. Was that why she hired him?

Never mess around with a woman you couldn’t bring yourself to kill. An assassin had told him that once but… Mark… could never get that ideal stuck around his head. Of all the hurt his wife had done, of all the willingness she had to cut off his balls and serve them on a platter, of ripping out his heart and making a pancake from his organs… he couldn’t kill her either. And, he realized (if only years ago) that the same very well could be said for Sofie. He couldn’t kill her. Even if he wanted to. He knew for a fact that what she was doing was wrong. She was tainted, and twisted and hurt. He knew her story, enough of it, and knew her. Whoever thought Mark was simply a horny man was wrong. Though his eyes wandered and took in beauty where it was found, he was observant of not only what brought him sexual arousal, but other portions and other actions. He had been around Sofie enough to know her. Perhaps not well, perhaps not intimately, but enough to know that she was going down a road best left un-traversed… But he knew very well he couldn’t pull her off the dangerous track she was on. He knew instead that he’d follow her to her demise, perhaps die before her ever romantically by saving her life for a moment… and… in the end that’d be that. She was too hell-bent. She couldn’t see what was on the horizon for herself, for them, for all who were behind her. A war would come… it would slaughter so many… it would cost a heavy price. Did she not see that? Or, was it more dangerous than that? Did she see that and simply still proceed?

If Mark Ethan Daniels was ever wise, he would walk away. He would leave right then and there, quit his job, and leave the country and get the farthest he could away from her. But he wouldn’t. He was not wise. For all his cleverness, he was indeed a fool… and a male one at that. “Difficult? They were difficult?” He mumbled quietly, sticking out his lower lip at the very idea as his hands went around her thighs, lifting her up only to scoot her further onto the desk. He didn’t mind how her legs drew him nearer, and willingly came forward at her request. Keeping his arms around her his fingers gently found her spine through the fabric of a jacket and shirt, and there was where he ran them up and down. An affectionate gesture, but not a blatantly ravenous one. Whoever said he couldn’t have manners even when sex was quite wanton, was a liar. He could be a gentleman. … When he had a lady to be a gentleman to. “Ah, I should definitely have came along then. I could have taken care of them for you, Sophie.” It amazed one how quiet he was, and the sincerity he seemed to have. Though now his eyes no longer were on hers, but lowered, he spoke modestly and quiet honestly. Of course they both knew how he took care of people. And of course they both knew he’d do it as well. … And he could do so without any implications.

With her hands on his collar he dutiful leaned forward, eyes to eyes, green to blue. The big blue sea meeting lovely terra firma. As it should be, no? Truly she was beautiful, and honestly that was what anyone and everyone would notice first about her. They’d notice the beauty, and then her dominance. The air around her always told of her position and rank. She was commanding and intimidating, and would always get what she so desired. But would she ever have it any other way? Would she ever truly want no one to recognize and appreciate her for her skin, for her presence? Would she ever really want anyone who wasn’t beneath her, but instead her equal? He pursed his lips as he looked into her eyes. Just like looking into a viper’s, yeah? He smiled a small, almost sad smile. The corner of his lips only turning in the slightest as his hands remained around her rear. It was then that Mark did one of the more inappropriate things. Coming forward he (to no surprise of anyone who knew him) kissed her. Despite the cheap liquor on his tongue, the scruff on his mug, the filthy mutt look he had, he brought himself near the woman and undoubtedly played into her hands. He pulled her closer, bringing her further against him. His lips on her own, daring but not as obtrusive as one would think. His kiss was alarmingly light and attentive, not the kiss of a beast who desired to devour her in full. And yet, such a kiss was one that lingered. That spoke in full of where he wanted things to go, but also of hesitation and then… conceding. He knew they’d never go where he wanted. He knew she was simply acting. How cruel she was, how mean, but how predictable. But he’d take his jollies were he could, and offered again a sad little smile as he pulled his face away, a hand rising to run along the side of that pretty little face of her’s, before taking a cheek in hand and squeezing it. “You’d like to see me suffer through eternity. And get fixed. Though that goes hand and hand, dare I say it.” He said, smirking at her now as his eyes (which had soften so) harden and took a more vile, vicious turn. “But I have to say, I demand a good fuck before I go under.” And with that he glanced from her, to their blessed position. Her legs spread around him, their bodies close, her arms and hands on him? He tutted quietly, as he stared intently, “Got to say I wish you wore skirts more often, too.” He ran a hand along her smooth, muscle-bound thigh before resting the palm on a firm and utterly luscious butt. A tush he had examined when she stormed away from her plenty, “Such a cruel woman with such a nice ass you are. Tease.” He said, affirming that whatever moment of tenderness and affection he had in him had since passed. She was vile to trick him. But if she wanted him to be crude and rude, he could be. “Mmm, I wonder if there’s any panties… I’m going to say not. Knowing you, you’ve got more than me to get drooling, hmm?” It was then that he pressed his thumb through the thin, slinky fabric of her pants, running it up and down the area where a pantyline ought to be. He smiled a little, and whistled, “Oh, Ms. Klein!” He said in a most surprised, alarmed, and amused voice. He simply didn't know if he felt any undies on her!

Out of Clues: -power played a little- If you dislike, I'll reword. xD Though the undy bit is just Mark acting like an asshole.

[Sophia Klein]

Mark Ethan Daniels, Assistant mutt and jerk-off extraordinaire, was completely and utterly under her spell. She had him exactly where she wanted him, in the perfect position to be taken advantage of. Much to Sophie’s personal excitement, he acted exactly as she presumed he would. When their proximity was so close and their voices were silent, with nothing but their warm breath on each others faces, Sophie knew he would try to kiss her. That’s how these men were. You give them an inch and they take a mile.

His puppy-dog sweetness was positively endearing; and something that she didn’t expect. She figured Mark would have tried to be rough with her; all those pent-up hormones stuck in that overconfident head of his. Sophie never thought that a kiss from Mark could actually be… enjoyable. And this one was completely enjoyable. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer as his hands found their way around her waist. Despite his touches having drifted from decency, she didn’t seem to mind. Instead, she leaned into his hands and kissed him back so convincingly that she nearly convinced herself.

What the hell was she doing? Was she kissing Mark Ethan Daniels, class A bastard, and actually enjoying herself? How could that be possible? Sophie never lets her guard down… No, she just toys with people to see them squirm, but this situation seemed different. Mark, her associate of nearly three years, was never on her good side. She fought with him, argued with him, screamed at him, and constantly embarrassed him; yet now she was kissing him? This kind of contact had never happened before. There were rumors, of course, but the closest Mark and Sophie had ever come to each other was when they were brutally fighting. Mark Daniels was just an insubordinate puppy and she knew that… So why all this passionate kissing? Her actions were convincing because they were real. She was holding him closer to feel him; to feel what it felt like to drop her guard, if only for a moment.

When the kiss was over, so was the daydream. Reality hit her like a ton of bricks and she tightened her grip on his collar. Mark-puppy-dog-Daniels was just her underling and nothing more. He was an hour and thirty minutes late to see her because he had to buy her a shitty happy meal. He was crude and overconfident. He was easily enticed. Overall, Mark Daniels was the bane to her fucking existence. He was everything she wanted and couldn’t have and she hated it.

“You’d like to see me suffer through eternity. And get fixed. Though that goes hand and hand, dare I say it.” He said, making her smile. She was amused by the situation and how it would soon be turning violent. “…But I have to say, I demand a good fuck before I go under.” And there it was: the comment she was waiting for; the line that needed to be crossed. His further actions regarding her skirt only acted as fuel to the fire.

Sophie moved faster than Mark was likely to see. She wasn’t as strong as the other wolves, but she was incredibly fast and could outrun anyone, even the little shit Mark Daniels himself. She jumped onto her haunches and whipped her arm across her desk, grasping something in her hand before pouncing forwards and tackling Mark to the ground. His previous distraction was everything; Sophie highly doubted that he would be prepared for such an attack, especially after her convincing kiss. She would pin him to the ground by straddling his form and pushing her hand up beneath his chin. The item she grabbed now became clear: iron knuckles which she slipped around her fingers mid-air. She had a sadistic little smile on her face as she peered down at her ‘assistant’, one that Mark knew meant he was in a for a total shit-storm. “Vhrong answer,” she mumbled, her iron knuckles grinding up against his chin bone. “Not only vhere you one hour and dhirty minutes late… but you dhought it vould be fine to try and cross lines vhith your boss?” She shook her head back and forth slowly, her smile widening. “Herr Daniels, you have no idea vhat I vhant. If you did, you vould hafe told me I vhanted an Assistant Commissioner. Not vhatever dhiss is,” she paused to gesture towards him with her free hand. “I leafe for one vheek and come back to dhis mess. Your mess, and vould you know it I am going to remind you vhat consequences dhere are for fucking up my job.” As if that was her cue, Sophie pulled her arm back and slammed her iron knuckles straight into Mark’s perfect jaw.

[markdaniels]

It was possible they could make a habit of this. Possible that perhaps one day, when both could sit-down and be civil that they would discover all the things they held in common… and all the ideas and feelings they shared. It wasn’t hard for him to envision a time where… this was more of how they occupied their moments together. Honeysweet kisses, warm embraces, and enough want and desire filling the bare few inches of space between two individuals neatly placed together. He could see where a relationship could evolve. Where interest and fascination could pave the way for trust and affection… which could then proceed to deeper, more penetrating ‘things’. He could see many things for them, between them, and this he admittedly only to himself. Only to himself because, sadly, those things would never happen. As nice as it would be, as pleasing as it would become, as ‘perfect’ as it might be… it wouldn’t ever get there, it wouldn’t ever reach there, it wouldn’t ever. It was sad, but it was true… and he couldn’t pretend otherwise. Mark would never have a chance with Sofie. To her, her profession and revenge came first… and to him, all women were out for the same thing - a tool they could use. She would always think he was up to something, she would always wonder if he was being honest and true, she would always think he was playing her, and in return she would never ever be truly open, honest, or have faith. She would always plan for ‘what could go wrong’, and in that planning a chasm would form. … Not that it was all her, however. He was fucked up himself, he knew it and acknowledged it fine and fine again. He prided himself on saying his ex-wife was nothing more than a fucking bitch he didn’t give a shit about and who he was happy was gone. But that was a lie. He had cared for Runner more than he had cared for any one person or thing. She was both his poison and his antidote, and it truly had hurt him beyond repair how their love had so quickly morphed into hate. The fact that she could (and would) kill him… disturbed him. Runner had been his ‘mate’… and humans, whether they knew or not, had no idea how in-common werewolves were with their ancestry. A “mate” was not just a “wife”, it was not just a “lover” it was not just another person one cared for. A wolf’s mate was… mmm… What was the use, hmm? The fact of the matter was, was that it bothered him how she toyed and played her games. She was picking and poking at him, teasing him in possibility. Normally, he wouldn’t care but in this instant… he did. She wanted him to act like a brute? He could. She wanted him to be nasty and uncivil and crude? He could. I can be every fucking thing in your pretty little head you witch, he thought to himself, bitterly and with hostility. If she wanted someone to hate, he could be that. With ease.

… Not that that was all of it. It was easier this way, besides. Better for them both if fighting and hatred was what was between them. No chances to think of what could be when one was stuck in what was, yussum? And he had to admit the fact of the matter was… was that Sofie needed someone to beat the shit out of, someone to hate, someone to rough up. And he just happened to be the easiest, most accessible thing. Wasn’t he?

Giving Mark his proper credit, the moment the telephone rang and it was for him he knew how things would happen. He wasn’t surprised that things would end with her desiring to beat the snot out of him. Fact of the matter was, he knew it’d happen and that’s why one hour and thirty minutes had been what took him to finally mosey on in. Like any good boy, he didn’t particularly like being bruised. But, there was little hope in outrunning fate… or Sophia Klein. Not like he would if he could. But, he figured if she was pissy now he might as well rile her a little more. He preferred one good thrashing to multiple, mediocre ones over the work week. Matter of fact the only thing that surprised him was this immediate reception. He was surprised at her cruelty, the extent of how deeply she loathed him. She could spin webs like no other… Not that he needed all the glam and glitter to fall for it, but he was flattered she had went all out. Compliments, touch, even a teasing kiss. When she turned and pounced on him, he was only mildly ‘stunned’. He expected some nasty little words to happen first, daggers into his soul, before she whipped around and tore him to pieces. The fact she simply jumped to the chase was ‘striking’. Or was it? Nah. Their fights weren’t rare. Were they?

To any other person things like this wouldn’t be so easy. To give Sophia her credit, she wasn’t simply a wallflower. She had her strength and speed and she could be just as violent as any man… but the fact was, was who she hired wasn’t the goofy man many saw. He was indeed a murderer. He killed people. And he did that well. Someone like that, someone who kills for a living, was not an easy man in any sense. He did not go down easy, nor did he stay down. A man like that could handle himself in a fight, after all even if he was excellent in explosives, not all assassinations are ones where a pack of TNT suffice. If he wanted to, he could hurt her. If he desired, he could be the one pinning her down, smacking the living shit out of that pretty little face. She was faster, but he was stronger, and in a situation like this, where her speed only dictated how fast she could hit, she had no room to dodge or no way to confront his bare, brute strength if he wanted to force her down and beat her head in. But, he didn’t. One, it was incredibly idiotic to. He could win here against her, but it wouldn’t work realistically. He’d be hunted down and killed by D.O.G.S.. Two, he couldn’t even if he wanted. He doubted he could ever bring himself to hurting her. His nature, his personality, his temper… his head… He couldn’t. There was a block there, a barrier. He could imagine it, but it sickened him. It turned his stomach, He couldn’t do it. He was just that pathetic. Three, he didn’t even want to. Truth was he over stepped his bounds. Fact was, that this was a pack hierarchy and he was omega, not alpha. Reality said he deserved punishment and to be put in line. … And he couldn’t disagree to that.

But… Heh. Such a wicked little smile. It seemed as if beating him in was as good as sex for her. Though he had to admit, given that he was on the floor and she was on top of him, he hoped she didn’t get too… excited. Yet, smart ass he was. And it was hard for him to be objective when it came to little Sofie. As she reared back to do him in he grabbed her wrist, giving her the sweetest smile. He never did like how she did his face. It was humiliating, shameful, and visible. He didn’t like it, but, alas. What could he do? Say no? His grab on her wrist when she moved to strike him again was only made as a ‘point’. How tightly his fingers wove around her, how hard they pressed. He knew it made her angry to think that he had anything on her, that he could do certain things better and had traits in which he excelled in, even over her. He knew any resistance at all would result in more of a trashing but, hmm… he was stubborn and better yet, he never learned. A point further proven when he, cockily, smiled and spoke, “Love it when you’re rough honey.” Let the beating ensue, yeah? Around here would be when she snatched her hand away from his grip (and he would let her) and… from then, well, they both knew how it went. Not that it didn’t please him she was wearing knuckle bracers. It wouldn’t do if she exerted herself too much and left her own knuckles bruised and battered after all this. Nawh. She had to stay pretty.

Out of Clues: Another bit of powerplay. xD But Mark want's to make sure he gets under her skin and makes her pissy. >D But yush -nods- Your post can wrap up the throttling and... after mine, Amos enters? :O

[Sophia Klein]

“Love it when you’re rough honey.”

Was he being serious? Did he really just stop her punch halfway through to prove a point that Sophie hated to admit? She was weaker than most werewolves – fast, to be sure, but weak – and this realization was a huge blow to her ego. Sophie liked being in control, she liked being the one that people listened to for fear of the consequences. Some called it dominance, but Sophie just liked to say it was part of her womanly charm. She was ‘charmingly’ intimidating; ‘beautifully’ wicked; and people didn’t tend to argue about it.

Mark knew all about Sophie’s detestable weakness. He knew just about every button there was to press to make her go insane. He teased her, stood up to her demands, and rarely ever listened until she was forced to make him listen. Mark was everything she wanted but hated; the one man that could make her feel alive; and the one man she desired to bash into the ground until he splintered into a million pieces. Perhaps he had more of a hold on her than she liked to admit. But admit it she never would. Mark Daniels was not and never would be her equal. She had far too many things to worry about than such a pestering little pup.

If only that kiss weren't still on her mind... That absolute trash. Sophie’s attraction for Mark Daniels was purely lust. She was always so busy with work and life that she didn’t have time for ‘mates’. Sophie could care less about putting her trust in a crooked, overconfident man. Besides, she doubted she’d make a good partner anyways. Mark was merely the illusion; he was the tease to her desires; and he was the vivid projection of what her life could be like, but never would.

She slowly leaned forwards, her face flushed from thinking, but her expression unchanged. “Lohfe it, do you?” She whispered against his mouth, her opposite hand lifting to trace an index finger across his lips. “Vonderful. I vhill make this eefen betteh for you, den.” Smiling, and in an attempt to wipe the rest of those pointless thoughts from her mind, she whipped her hand from his mouth and knocked it against his arm. Her aim was to break his grip on her wrist, but for some the bastard let go right before she made contact. This made Sophie even angrier. Despite trying to toy with him, he knew exactly how to toy with her. Mark Daniels was a clever little shit.

“I’m glad to see you know vhat’s for the best. You little bastahrd…” And with that, she punched him. This time her punch was harder, still aimed for his jaw. She grabbed him by his collar with just enough force to lift him to his feet and tossed him against the wall, before running after him so rapidly that he’d feel the iron punch to his gut before he’d even see it. “Tah next time you are late,” she said in between punches that wailed against his shoulder, “You might as vhell ask the leeches for a job, because London vhill no longer be your home. Is t’at clear?” Whether he answered her or not, she’d punch him in the face, shifting the iron knuckles so that they slammed against the juncture of where his forehead met eye-lid. She supposed that would do for now.

Within the blink of an eye she was back at her desk, facing away from Mark and slipping the iron knuckles onto its surface. She didn’t care about the drops of blood that smeared across her paperwork, since it gave her something fond to think about. “You ahre done here.” She said in an icy tone, her face never turning to look at him. “Send Amos in. And take this shitty food vhith you.” As if in emphasis of her words, she slapped the bag of McDonalds onto the floor and began to walk around the desk to her chair. Sophie’s playtime was over.

((OOC: Tried not to power-play too much, but if he was just letting her... Besides, her punches don't hurt all that bad. They just leave some pretty bruises!))

[markdaniels]

It took all his effort not to do the unimaginable. As her finger trailed across his lips, the perhaps bestial desire to let his tongue flick out and lap the smooth, tasteful skin of the woman was near irresistible. If only as a teasing action, if only as an immediate impulse. Werewolves were more wolves than a person knew. They had instincts, desires, habited, ideas. He was born a werewolf. He was always a werewolf and was imprinted like that. When he looked at a woman he noticed what other men, of human or even vampyric origin, did not. He was intrigued by certain aspects of a person that others were not. He was peculiar, true, even as a werewolf but… was he really… that strange when among his kin? He was attracted to her dominance, to her aggression, to her hate-filled wrath. Perhaps he loved the abuse. Perhaps he adored how rough she was, how much and how willing she was to destroy him. It was almost tragically poetic, a man wanting to put his soul in the hands of the very woman he knew (yet in the very back of his mind, in the very pit of his stomach he desired, like any other, that what he knew wasn‘t true) would exploit him in that very moment of total and utter vulnerability. She’d kill him. And he couldn’t help but like the sound of it. He had lived enough, no? Death he had given to so many… did he really need to live any longer? What was his purpose in the world? Why was he alive? Did he even need to be alive? Had he not accomplished all he could? His Catholic upbringing spat on him, told him of Eternal Damnation… He knew long ago he’d go straight to Hell… he knew there was no Forgiveness for him. He did wrong. He knew it was wrong. He did it anyway. And yet… he wasn’t dead. He had never tried to die. He had simply accepted it’s possibility and figured, one day, when the time came he would. He would not seek Death out, for she, the mistress she was, would seek him when she had time for him… And yet…

Mark’s lips twitched. Lips that had kissed many a girl’s, lips that had been used many a times. Lips that were sensitive, despite texture that told of their dryness. Lips that concealed, that belittled, that told. Through his lips things were spoken. Some true, some false, some both, some neither. They twitched under her gentle touch, his light blue eyes looking up at her. How mellow they were, yet how there. He was not submissive. Even beneath her, even though he conceded her position of authority and power (and to some degree respected it) he was not submissive in the true sense… and his eyes told that. He would concede, but he would not… bow. Whenever he gave in, he gave in to her wants. Not her power. He gave in to satisfy her. Not to… bend to her will. Did it make sense? Or was the attraction in his eyes the only thing she saw as she glared out of those hate-filled eyes at him with vile menace? His lips curled into a slight smile, the corners turning heavenward. He smiled lightly at her, a smile that was not snug or cocky, simply genuine. The type of smile a shy boy might give a girl he liked in middle school. That kind of smile, uncertain, yet sure in the same exact moment. … Sophie sure did smell nice today, didn’t she? And sadly that was exactly the thought he had in his mind, even at these direst of times. He noticed her scent, the perfume she wore. Light it was, barely noticeable - just as dab. But he liked it. Perhaps not as much as her scent (all beings have a unique scent.) but… it complimented her’s… it didn’t cover it up like another fragrance would. He liked it. Had he ever told her that? He wondered. He really did like it…

And that’s usually how beatings went. Being beat up was not rare. It should have been perhaps, but it wasn’t. He did not come to work one day and was amazed at how brutal she was. No, he was the rough kind of sort. The sort of person who was born to modest ways and who fell from grace just as surely as Eve. They flirted with their destruction, they played around with fire. They messed with things they ought not… and from what they took at a younger age, they became more hellfire than ice. He had gotten into fights at school, and from there he had gotten into fights for and even with his gang. He had fought for silly reasons, he had fought for genuine ones, he had fought once… for no reason at all. To say he had won them all was a lie. Even he could lose. Especially he could lose… and… sometimes, after losing, one didn’t even fight back at all. He couldn’t remember the first time he was trashed. It was very, very long ago… and there had been very, very many since. Sophie’s little exhibits were nothing unique… and he took her’s like he had taken anyone else’s. In stride. He could not say it wasn’t embarrassing, that his pride and ego wasn’t wounded… But in the same measure… Her’s were not nearly as humiliating and degrading as some other’s. Sophie was an Alpha, if only in this part of D.O.G.S. … and he had crossed boundaries that had desired the punishment he was given. When he left the room, all would know his punishment. … But very few would be ballsy enough to speak up about it. If not for the fact that in the same situation they’d most likely be just as worse for ware, then for the simple fact that… Mark himself would beat the shit out of any little shit he heard sniveling on about it. He had close to no dignity, but he gave off the essence of someone who would smack around a gossiper…
When all was said and done he wrinkled his nose, spat out a wad of blood on the surface of the floor, rose, and left. He didn’t bat an eye at her last show of hostility, nor pay any mind to the food he had brought and it’s position on the floor. He wasn’t her maid. If she dirtied her sty, who was he to clean it? He left the room in silence. Opened the door, shut it. Whiping the back of his hand across his mouth while keeping a rather nasty look on his face. He could just imagine how it looked. He never liked when his face was done in. No sir. “Enjoy.” Was what he said, throwing a look to Amos in passing before his eyes flickered to the door to the room he had just left. Indeedy. Taking one for the fucking team. Amos best enjoy the fruits of the bounty ah? A nice, lovely little minx all wore out from her roll in the romp. Not that Mark didn’t wonder at times how Amos (and hell, any other worker in the department) had faired without Daniels there as the… tension reliever of their most beloved, and sexually stressed, Lady.

Out of Clues; P; Exit Mark Stage Left. ^^ Sorry for the wait.