Let's Misbehave!

[Lavinia Blanche - Argente]

Marriage had meant, well still, a lot to Lavinia Blanche-Argente. It meant more than a few vows spoken between two consenting people. It meant more than a lifetime together. Being mates, they had all but vowed to spend eternity together. Why just a lifetime? It meant commitment. It meant no more playing with little boys and girls on the side. It meant monogamy. It meant sleeping in his, no their bed every day. It meant sharing a closet with him, sharing a home with him, sharing a child with him, and sharing her ‘life’ with him- which sounded great before and right ever the event. She was jealous of every female around him, and he was jealous of every male (and quite a bit of females) around her. Marriage, in her mind, was the only way to go. Pledge fidelity and caring for one another and all that bullshit, but signing documents that were legally binding.

It also meant, it seemed that things were no longer fun. Sure they had their honeymoon. Sure that had been loads of fun, much of it spent between the sheets of various hotels. She’d wanted to consume him, and when they were away from their world, it was all that was on her mind. She could spend all day in bed with him without either of them being pulled away or interrupted. It was vacation, after all. But now he was back at the office and she was expected to sit around and play pretty wife. It wasn’t even fun to visit him anymore. Slipping into his office without a word to his secretary seemed much more elicit when she was Miss Blanche and not his wife.

She glared at the ground, between her bare feet, as she sat on the barstool in their kitchen. She sensed the same boredom within him, though she couldn’t be sure. The more stressed he was, the more he shut her off. And the more he shut her off the edgier she became. And it seemed the edgier she became, the more volatile Justinian became. It was a terrible, vicious circle. They both needed to get out, they needed to play. The needed to have fun as a married couple.

That’s when the idea struck her.

She called Justinian’s office and had a message sent to him. He was to be told there was an issue at the local vampire club. A terrible issue between clans and humans and possible some sort of transsexual werewolf. But he needed to be there ‘round 2 AM. And he better be well dressed. Lavinia, smiling at her dashingly tricky reflection in the mirror, began to look her best and well dressed. She began digging through her closet.

The room, attached to their bedroom, could have fit a small third-world country if she had the Container Store assist her. She had over 600 years worth of clothing and accessories packed within its doors. Her growing collection of shoes seemed to want to spill forth into the rest of the penthouse. She’d have to suggest to Justinian that they turn one of the smaller guest rooms into a separate closet for her. She couldn’t bear to part with a single stitch of her wardrobe; one could never be sure what you’ll require later in life.

Should she go formal and keep up the ruse? And then there was the option to dress rather like a stripper and have fun at the bar? Hmm. Lavinia pulled clothing off of hangers, examined outfits, and then discarded them to the ground. Nothing was right- twenty-nine outfits in a row rejected. Not even one in a Maybe pile. She scowled. Her fingers reached the dresses section and began tearing through like a starved lioness. She needed something seductive, sexy, classy, and luxurious. She needed something perfect. She tossed dresses after dresses to the ground.

Then Lavinia grabbed it. A little black dress. It was exactly what she needed. How could she have been so senseless! She tossed it over her chaise lounge and repeated the whole process with her lingerie section. It was slightly easier, at least. She knew she had to stick to Black. It was trashy to wear anything else with a black dress…but then again. She hesitated, holding a set of black lacey bits against her chest. She wasn’t exactly going for a well-to-do-wholesome wife look, now was she? She pulled on the same set in a deep scarlet. Matching scarlet pumps and a clutch went with it. Her credit card, reactivated by her adoring husband, was nestled within its pricey confines.

And then she slipped out into the bustling city. Justinian’s driver was always waiting. It wasn’t unlike Miss Lavi- Mrs. Blanche-Argente to suddenly feel the urge to explore the city that never sleeps. It wasn’t long until she was waltzing into the local Vampire nightclub and zipping some sort of drink. It was great, whatever it was; concocted of various liquors and a man high on ecstasy. Her red lipstick left a stain on the glass as she watched the door. She was waiting for the most familiar face in her life, but as she waited any familiar face would do.

words: 869
tags: Let's be outrageous! Lies, lies! Sexy undies. Little Black dress.
muse: No idea.
outfit: click!
status: :)

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[Justinian Argente]

Justinian had no clue why the hell he had to work so much this particular evening. He was bloody sick of being stuck at work all the time. It made him stressed, and irritated, and exhausted, something that a new husband should never be. He wanted nothing more than to make himself everything that Lavinia wanted him to be, the happy, interested, semi-conscious husband that she knew and loved. And he knew that she deserved that from him. Especially after she became his wife, despite all of the misgivings she had had for the idea in the past.

To be honest, Justinian was thinking of joining up with another company. He was tired of the hours and demands of the company he was currently working at, and he had gotten several offers from other firms with relatively good deals. He was still weighing the options in his head, trying to figure out if the stress of moving and figuring out how the new company worked was worth the sort of freedom he might get with the switch. Lavinia would want a say, he knew, but he just didn’t know how much longer he could take working at his current office. The people were infuriating, the hours were too longs, and the profit was way too small. He was at the end of his rope, and they should have seen it coming.

Getting the message from Lavinia confused the hell out of him, but also gave him an excuse to get the hell out of the office. There would be a stink about him leaving early, he knew that much from his past experience, but quiet honestly he just didn’t give a fuck anymore. A couple of his coworkers started making a huff when he went to leave with his briefcase and jacket slung over his shoulder, but he ignored them vehemently, making a beeline straight for the elevators, out the door, and to his little prized Lamborghini parked outside, just waiting for a quick getaway with the keys being held out to him by the valet.

The engine roared as he sped off, heading back to the penthouse to change. Her directives had been vague and confusing, and Justinian just didn’t know what to make of the whole situation. He certainly didn’t want to go deal with a bunch of angry humans, let alone a transvestite werewolf, but he was going. And he was relieved to be out of the damned office. The streets flew by him, and he managed to get back to the penthouse relatively quickly, considering the usual New York traffic. When he had first started working at this particular office, he figured out the fasted route to and from the penthouse. He supposed now that would all start to change.

The trip up to the penthouse was long and boring. Elevators always seemed to take forever when you didn’t really want to take the time to go where you were going. Justinian didn’t really understand her directive to be “well dressed”. It wasn’t like he dressed like a bum to go to the office, and for crying out loud he was only handling a dispute between a greater and lesser beings. In his rooms, he picked through the portion of the closet that was devoted to him. He didn’t much care that she owned so much clothing, though his wallet did wince at times.

Stripping out of his work clothes, it was like shedding all the stress and discomfort that he had gained during the day. He selected a pair of obscenely expensive silk boxers (brand new, as the last pair had been… put out of commission the previous honeymoon) and slid them on. It didn’t take him long to pick out his outfit. Soon, he was out the door, phone in hand, getting all sorts of angry messages from the people he left behind at work. Eventually, he began deleting them without listening to them.

The engine of the Lamborghini had barely had time to cool off when he fired it up again. He hadn’t been to the Vyxen in quite some time, and he wondered if anything had been done anything with the place since he'd been there last. He tossed his keys to the valet once he arrive, warning the boy that if he scratched the car he would tear him limb from limb. It wasn’t a joke either. He should have fed before he came, especially with all of the stress he had been under lately.

The club was buzzing as usual, though Justinian didn’t see any huge changes in the atmosphere or décor. He supposed that this was probably the best as people didn’t generally like a lot of change, especially those who have had things certain was for many years. Some even hundreds. Scanning the room, he saw a few delectable looking women, but he was looking for his wife. The woman he had just married and swore to spend the rest of his life with. The rest of eternity.

Finally, his eyes fell on the woman that he loved. Her frame was unmistakable to him, something that he had been able to study over hundreds of years and come to know oh so well. He never really mistaked anyone for Lavinia anymore as people sometimes do with one another. He knew everything, her voice, her face, he gestures. And he loved every single thing about it. This may seem overdramatic, but when you live so long with one woman that you helped save, there is a bond created between the two that just can’t be broken, especially if that bond is compounded by love. Now it may not look like Justinian feels this way all of the time, but it is the honest to death’s truth.

Walking up behind the woman, his wife, he slid his hands over her eyes, kissing her neck gently. “I don’t smell any werewolves my love. Nor do I see any disputing that needs to be taken care of.” he chuckled, wondering if she’d be surprised to see him so quickly. He rarely got to leave his office so quickly after a message.

words: 1,032
tags: No chaperone can get our number ;)
muse: My brain
status: Wifeyyy

[Lavinia Blanche - Argente]

Lavinia’s heart gave a little start as a warm pair of hands slipped around her head and obscured her vision. She giggled, recognizing the smell, voice, and even the texture of his palms against her cheek. The bartender she’d been innocently flirting with as he’d made her a second drink placed the glass on the bar and stepped away to another customer. Being respected was one of her favorite parts of being Justinian’s wife and mate. When they’d first been together Lavinia had almost nothing to her name, she’d been clinging to gifts the man she was having an affair with gave her. Her dresses were years ago, women in her village looked on her with disgust.

Justinian had dressed her, paraded her around with pride (once she’d given in to her feelings for him, the undeniable connection the two had shared). He could afford to clothe her in the height of fashion and she’d been respected. He had the wealth and charm to dazzle humans and a comparable age to many of the other vampires they ran into. Now, as the American-Argente Clan leader, Lavinia was very much like the first lady. And she loved it.

Almost as much as she loved him.

Lavinia’s hands covered his own, pulling them down so she could press two lip-stick kisses to his palms. She spun around in the seat, wrapping her arms around his neck and sharing a rather mischievous smile with him. “Oh? They….they must have left” She said, her lie obvious. Her eyes had flickered to the side and her tone denoted nothing but deviousness. She could lie around anyone but with him, her words wobbled and she lost hold of her nerve. Maybe it was because he could literally read her mind as well as her body language.

“But you can’t leave now!” She insisted, her lips pressing to his now. She ordered a mixture of Brandy and blood, handing him the glass with ease. “You need a night off...with me.” She shouted, sipping her own drink. One leg wrapped around his hips, gently rubbing her freshly shaved skin against his pant leg. The music was blaring around them and Lavinia was struggling to speak above the din. Not that she minded the noise; the music pouring through her body made her want to pull him onto the dance floor.

Haley’s busy writing or something silly like that and I’m so lonely. I miss your touch and having you to myself. It was much easier to make sure he heard her and go the feelings behind her pleas when she was inside his head. She arched her back, thrusting her chest out against his muscled torso. Stay and dance with me. Tell me about your day. She mentally begged, nearly smashing her glass against the counter as she slid from the bar stool.

The height different increased, but it was a better position for him to admire the way the dress clung to her body….and revealed other parts. She shoved the fur onto the counter and turned back to him. I’ll make it worth your wile.

words: 518
tags: Lavinia wants attttttttttttttention!
muse: Black Swan Soundtrack.
outfit: click!
status: :)

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