howlingplayground | For Miles

For Miles

It's an interesting dynamic, being a lover for a reporter. But that's not what's on her mind when she slips through Seattle, headed toward his place. She has information for him. It's tucked safely away between her breasts in a small flashdrive that she'd used to steal the information for Miles.

The doorman to Miles's building smiles and tips his hat to the pretty young thing that comes to see the rather intense reporter.

She steps into the elevator and heads up to Miles's place.

Stepping inside of his apartment is always an adventure. She's never sure if she's going to find him buried in research or take out boxes. "Hello, darling." She says, slipping inside. She puts her purse down on a table covered in papers, and smiles to the reporter.

Normally, she stays far away from reporters and she never turns on a client. This client, however, had done something unspeakable. He'd bought and sold human flesh. Heather will put up with many things, but this is not something she will tolerate.

So, she'd offered to help the police, but none of them would listen to her. That's when she'd found Miles, through one of his other exposes. "Darling, you'll never guess what I've got for you...." She teases, leaning over in front of him. The flashdrive peeks up through her breasts.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Today, he's buried in both.

There's one of those red-string conspiracy boards on his wall - again - about his obsession. The Murkoff Corporation and their many human rights abuses. And there's a whole smorgasboard of them. It's really hard to pick just one.

He looks up from his laptop and makes eye contact...well, eye-to-boob contact. Nice. "Is it a pony?" he teases right back.

"Mmm. If you really want to ride something, darling...." She teases. Instead, she reaches between her breasts and pulls out the flashdrive. "However, this might be better than a pony."

She places it on his laptop and leans in. "What do I win, if I tell you that contains the personal books of Mr. Murkoff's son?" She asks. "Including, because I tracked it down, and that's in there too, including! Proof that they bought and sold at least a trio of boys from a known flesh peddler in Bangladesh." Her fingernails tap on the table. "Now, I couldn't confirm if the boys were for Mr. Murkoff, or his son, but I've got a friend looking into it." Said friend knows better than to get too close.

"The flesh peddler... specializes in young boys for high powered execs." She taps the flashdrive. "Proof of that is also on there." Just don't ask how she got the information.

He stares intently at her as she explains what's on the flash drive, and as she explains, he starts shaking with anger. The information is more valuable than all the gold in Fort Knox, but it's fucking disgusting. Human trafficking is extremely high on Miles' list of things that will make him basically Hulk out. And he has to suppress the pins-and-needles feeling beneath his skin, the Walrider inside him roiling with anger. The damn thing was always looking for a chance to feed off his rage, and he would never let it out. The parasite would only hurt him. No one else.

Miles stands up and immediately begins pacing, running a hand through his hair. "Oh, God. Heather, this is insane."

She doesn't know all his damage, but then, he doesn't know hers either. They work very well together in that. But the organization needs to be brought to its knees. And that little flashdrive - don't ever ask her what she had to do to get it - is just the first step.

"I know. Trust me." And, really, having been bought and sold before, she's not going to allow that to keep happening. "But there might be more information. I just am not close enough yet." Good thing her clients trust her. Because that trust is about to backfire.

Miles frowns. "I'm not going to ask you to put yourself in danger. You could end up worse off than me, and I don't want that to happen." He doesn't want Heather to lose her fingers, too - or worse.

"Seriously, the info on this little thing is...incredible."

She smiles. It's sweet that Miles worries about her. But, really, she'll be fine. No one suspects the whore. It's covered a lot of activities before. No reason it can't now.

She walks over to him, and puts a hand on his chest. "I'll be fine. I just want to know that you're going to nail the bastards to the wall." Because no one should be trafficked.

She can only hope that the police will take the information and run with it. And if not them, then the Hague.

"I'll do more than nail them to the wall," he seethes. "I'll crucify them. If people don't care, I'll make them care. Nobody cares about people from other countries being exploited," he says, and he sounds bitter. "But people at least care a little about pedophilia."

He sighs and looks at her. "Thank you."

She leans up and kisses his cheek. "You're more than welcome, darling. I don't usually get involved, but no one deserves to be sold." Well, unless they want to be, but that's a separate issue.

"And people do care about the buying and selling of human beings." She shakes her head, blonde hair bouncing around her shoulders. "You just have to catch them buying and selling the right kind of human beings."

She kisses his cheek again. "What else do you need?" She needs something from him. Desperately needs. Her arms steal up around his neck.

Miles sighs a little when she kisses his cheek, and smiles when her arms go around his neck. "I think I know what you need," he says. "I feel a little weird about this given what we were just talking about, but you said something about things to ride that aren't ponies?"

Petition to ban Miles from ever talking again.

"Do you know what I need?" She purrs. She wants him, and she'll never hide that fact. Not from him. She leans up and kisses him. Her lips brush against his. Her fingers cup the back of his head, and pulls him in to really kiss him hard. She stands on her tiptoes to press closer to him.

"I will gladly be ridden, darling. If that's what you're in the mood for." She teases.

(Sorry that he's six foot one, Heather. He hit a growth spurt in high school that only helped him win more fights.)

"I'm not sure what I'm in the mood for, aside from you," he says when they break apart, grinning a little. Yeah, okay, he likes it when the lady takes control. What can he say? He's a mouthy sub.

(Dammit, Miles, she's only 5'2!)

"I think I can accommodate that." She whispers, stepping back from him. She balances on one foot and then the other, unzipping her heeled boots. That makes her even shorter when she steps out of them.

Her fingers reach for his belt, loosening it quickly and easily. "The question, of course, is where do you want me, Miles?" She whispers, rucking up his shirt to drop a kiss on his chest. "I presume you have a bed to bend me over?"

Yes he does, and he even cleaned his room the other day! There is no need to be horrified by Big Laundry Mountain, Heather, for it has been leveled and defeated. Be proud of him. He is a goddamned adult.

"Yep," Miles says, slightly muffled by his shirt, and not at all objecting to how quickly she's taken charge of the situation. He finishes taking his shirt off and shrugs it to the ground. Big Laundry Mountain is on the move.

He puts his hands on her waist. "So, you want to be bent over, huh?" he murmurs.

Oh look, there's skin for her to lick. She likes this turn of events. She kisses across his chest, her tongue flicking against his nipple. Pulling back, she pulls off her shirt and tosses it over his laptop.

"I could definitely come to like that." Oh, the bad pun. But she doesn't care. She stands on her tiptoes and kisses him again. "Think you can pick me up and take me to bed?"

Miles laughs a little when she licks at his nipple. Okay, bending her over, he can totally do that. And maybe later she can ride him.

After their kiss, he grins and literally sweeps her off her feet into a bridal carry. "Step one, done. Step two, in progress," he says, heading towards the bedroom.

She has no plans for anything for the evening, so riding him is a definite possibility.

Heather laughs, draping her arms around his neck. "My hero!" She gushes, kissing under his ear. "Take me to bed, and we'll see what strikes our fancies, shall we?"

She really wants bent over and taken.

"Taking," he says, smothering a laugh at both her tone and the kiss under his ear. "So just tell me everything you want, and I'll do my best."

It's odd being with someone who wants her to have things. She's so used to being the one used that sometimes, it's hard for her to articulate what she wants.

She kisses down his neck, slowly contemplating everything they could do.

"Well, first, you're going to undress both of us." Because she loves being peeled out of her clothing. "Then, I want you to make my toes curl. Bend me over the bed and just fuck the hell out of me." She whispers into his ear.

At heart, she's a simple girl.

"Mm, okay, I can do that," he murmurs in her ear. "You know I like a bossy partner." He pauses. "You also know I'm a slutty slutty man-slut, so take that as you will."

Granted, he has mellowed out since college, but...he's still a bit of a slut. It happens.

She chuckles huskily. She knows. It's just unusual for her to have a partner that isn't the bossy one. Even when she's "in control" for one of her clients, it's a temporary thing. And not really control at all.

"Darling, I'm a whore." She reminds him, carding her fingers through his hair. "I'm the last one to judge."

She won't judge him if he's got three girls waiting in the wings.

"Now, put me down and strip me."

...will she judge him if he's been in a bit of a dry spell lately? It's tough to balance dogged, obsessive reporting and a relationship.

"Yes, ma'am," he says, setting her down and kissing her as he works at the buttons of her shirt.

Oh no. Dry spells are dry spells. She's not always a whore after all. Just most of the time.

She smiles against his mouth, letting him strip her out of her shirt. She lets the shirt fall away and puts her hands back in his hair. He needs to get her naked, now.

The next step for him is getting her pants off. Given that she's not shy about wanting him to get into them, it's not difficult.

He breaks the kiss for just a moment to yank his own t-shirt up and over his head, before going to undo her bra.

Ooooh. Look at all that skin she can play with now. Her pants are kicked away and whoops, there goes her bra.

Heather actually shimmies out of her panties on her own. Her fingers reach for his belt and starts undoing that, leaving little lovebites all over his chest.

He's not getting naked enough fast enough!

Well, jeez, Heather, he's only human!

~~ehhhh not entirely "only" anymore but you know, figure of speech~~

He groans a little at the love bites, and okay, okay, he can take a hint. Once his belt's undone, he shimmies his own pants down. Last step: Boxers!

~~please do not judge him for his Spider-man boxers, Heather~~

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