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Daycycle 112 [ October 16 - October 22 ]

daycycle 112

[Oct 16 - Oct 22]

[OOC Plotting for this Dacycle can be found here.]

Early Morning [0800 - 0900] — All Troubleshooters Report for Duty

No Special Troubleshooters have been selected for a mission this morning.

Morning & Afternoon [0900 - 1600] — Service Firm Positions
All Troubleshooters not assigned a mission should report to their Service Firm for their daily duties, unless specifically assigned a different shift.

Free Enterprise is pushing a new, adjusted street form of No Fear (Dynomorphin). The original pharmaceutical is meant for those in Ultraviolet ranks, but this form is much dirtier, cheaper and more addictive. In order to get people hooked, they've put a healthy dose in the wagon wheel's ORANGE and RED level coffee-like supplies. The drug causes a very bullet proof feeling of euphoria. Side effects include paranoia, hallucinations, increased sociability, increased sex drive, panic attacks, excited delirium - extreme agitation and violence, and the temporary loss of feeling in nerve endings (inability to feel pain). A standard dose lasts four hours. Withdrawal symptoms include nosebleeds, sweating, nausea, dehydration and blinding migraines. For those that want more of the drug, Free Enterprise will make it easily accessible.

At 1200, a squad of Grey Ops will arrive at Medical Services to escort Caitlin Snow away for suspected treason. Anyone asking for additional information will be told it's classified and warned not to continue asking questions. Approximately fifteen minutes later another squad of Grey Ops will arrive at Internal Security to lead Vision away. Anyone asking for additional information will be given the same party line.

At 1400 today, Jack Harkness will be summoned by Mind Control to the Production offices on the twenty fifth floor. There he will be offered a position in Media Production where he will assist with the Teela O'Malley show. This position will come with a clearance level promotion of ORANGE, since the talk show star doesn't associate with anyone of lower clearance level. Jack will be responsible for ramping up the excitement levels of the live audience and the personal entertainment of the star.

Evening [1600 - 2200] — Citizen Improvement
All Alpha citizens are encouraged to better themselves through Alpha’s wide variety of educational, entertainment and cultural opportunities offered each evening. Attending these sanctioned events are not mandatory, but is highly encouraged by The Computer. Citizens choosing not to take advantage of these opportunities, have a growing number of other options available to them in how to spend their hard earned credits and free time.

Tonight’s event will be at 1900 in Meeting Room G, Wagon Wheel Floor 24 and will be hosted by the Alpha Smiling Club. Join us tonight for refreshments and tips on faking it until you make it!

Alpha Curfew Restrictions
All Alpha citizens should be in their quarters within the Wagon Wheel by 2200, unless they’ve been given permission from a GREEN or higher clearance level citizen. Sleeping Aid gas is dispelled each night in the Wagon Wheel at 2200 to assist citizens in getting a productive sleeping period.

Confession Booths
There are hundreds of confession booths available around Alpha Complex if a citizen would like to communicate directly with the computer. Please use these confession booths to report mission statuses, report treason or terrorist acts, unregistered mutants, confess your trespasses against Alpha Complex, request propaganda or speak with Your Friend, The Computer, at any time.

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Does anyone not named Mercedes, Porsche, Mystery or Diamond ever really plan to strip naked in public? Don't answer that. It occurs to Buffy that perhaps she ought to say something about the stripping, but it's just his chest and surely those thumbs in his waistband are more like hooking your fingers in your pocket than stripping. Plus, looking at Alcide shirtless is definitely not a hardship. She'll say something to him if he actually starts tugging that jumpsuit lower. Probably.

She thought company and distraction would be good given the restless vibe he's putting off, not to mention she'd thought it would help her own restlessness. She doesn't feel like she's going to shift (though she wouldn't have a clue what that would feel like) but she does feel keyed up the way she used to after a night of slaying. Her skin is buzzing and she's hungry, but not for the slop they serve in the commissary. She could definitely go for ~~some sex~~ a low fat yogurt.

She hears that growl and it's sexy as fuck (oh hell what is wrong with her?) but she takes a deep breath and practices self control. She can pretend it's senior year with Angel and all the no touching and no happy-joy making. She's good at that, except it's been years. Not since she had sex, at least not according to the glitches and why the hell can't she stop thinking about sex. That way generally leads to badness anyway.

"Thanks," she says, swallowing hard as she casts a glance over to him. "You look good in red. I mean...you're lucky. Red is a good color on you, but so is the whole shirtlessness thing. It's a good look. You're very tan. You must have spent a lot of time outside where--where were you from. In the glitches, I mean. With the tan and the shirtlessness and God...I'm sorry. I didn't--" She plasters her hand over her mouth and mumbles against it 'just going to shut up now' except it probably just sounds like a bunch of noise.

Back home it's a common occurrence for Alcide to strip wherever he is and shift. All wolves do it. Sure, they used to try not to be seen when they do it. But when the truth about shifters was broadcast on TV for all to see, there just hasn't been a reason to hide it. Needless to say, Alcide is well accustomed to stripping in public. But this situation is entirely different than that. Because he can't shift. It has never been more evident to him, until right now, how much he is the wolf even without the ability to shift and all the additives being the wolf gives him.

"From Louisiana. I did construction." So yeah, he was outside a lot, a lot of the time shirtless. Hence, the tan.

She's looking and him and he's looking at her as she rambles and the air feels thick between the two of them. Holy fuck, what's his damage? He feels that 'out of control' that he felt when he tried to let himself give over to his Alphaness and become Pack Master. It's a bad sign. Or maybe it's a good sign the way he's thinking about getting the red off of Buffy so he can see her in white instead.

No. Stay on track. "You? You must be from Alaska. A desk job." Get it? Because she's so pale compared to him.

The idea is so foreign to her. They'd taken such care to give Oz his privacy when he'd shifted and Buffy is pretty sure the only time she found herself naked in public is when she'd been turned into a rat then turned back. She'd been mortified. Needless to say, Buffy is a great deal more modest than Alcide. Of course, maybe if she were a shifter, she wouldn't be modest. It strikes her for a moment as she glances over at Alcide, maybe she shouldn't dissuade him from stripping. She blushes and immediately admonishes herself.

"That explains the accent and the tan." Or at least she assumes it does. "I tried construction once. I got fired the same day." There had been a monster and she'd been more trouble than she was worth.

The air does feel thick between the two of them. When had the air gotten so stifling? Buffy fans herself with one hand. This is ridiculous. Maybe she'd had too much coffee. She hadn't known there was such a thing as too much coffee. Walking will help. It'll work off some of the restlessness and that leads to her thinking of other ways to work off restlessness and wow this guy just got here and what is her damage?

His comment gets a confused look from her. "No. California actually. I'm kind of a night owl." She glances down at her hands. "I'm probably getting a lot paler here. I'll be practically Casper before long."

"Can't imagine anybody firin' you without givin' you more than a day's shot at it." Yes, that's Alcide saying she's pretty to look at. Maybe that's not what he should be boiling it down to, maybe it's even a little bit sexist. But at his base, Alcide is a pretty simple guy with few if any ulterior motives. He's never had any reason to be more complicated and honestly, he likes having things be simple. It makes them more pure. It means Alcide is honest with himself and others. He is honestly a nice, good guy with no ulterior motives so he means nothing bad by it.

Well, when he says he has no ulterior motives... right now he's still thinking about getting that jumpsuit off of her and fucking her against a wall. Whatever's going on with him really is poking at his Alpha-ness and the missing wolf parts and taking him for a ride. Does that count as an ulterior motive? Maybe. He'd like to think it doesn't.

"You're damn pretty for a ghost." He teases/flirts with her.

Alcide stops in his tracks, closes his eyes and cants his head back, taking a deep breath as he tries, once again, to get control of himself. His thumbs are hooked in the waist of his jumpsuit again. His private parts are barely covered, just barely. Still, he tries to do the right thing just because that's who Alcide is underneath it all. "You should probably get away from me, Casper. I don't think I'm safe for anyone right now."

"Well, a demon showed up and I destroyed about half the construction sight killing him," Buffy answers. "I can't really blame them." The little that she'd done, she'd actually been good at. Of course, that had been mostly picking up heavy loads and moving them. Pack mule was something she excelled at. She's not sure pretty ever factored into it. She also misses the compliment and she can generally handle that level of sexism because she's getting a chance. Besides, in her experience, if someone underestimates her because she's pretty, it gives her an advantage. She likes honesty and simplicity, not that she's ever dated anyone who was simple. Even Riley had ended up being as complicated as anyone she'd ever dated. Almost. Being a good guy is important.

The important thing here is that he isn't acting on his alpha-ness and ulterior motives, right? If Buffy knew what he was thinking, she might not agree with that. Of course, her thoughts when looking at him are slightly more innocent. She's thinking about kissing him, about feeling all of that bare skin that he's putting on display and she refuses to let herself think beyond that. Mostly. Oh hell, his thoughts aren't much worse than hers and she's got no idea why this clawing, restless sexual frustration has chosen to rocket to unbearable levels tonight. She's seen people shirtless since she came here. Her roomie is a gorgeous guy (two of them now) and it's unavoidable to see him shirtless occasionally. Big deal it's not, or it hadn't been until today and the sight of Alcide shirtless is driving her to distraction.

The flirting gets her attention. She ducks her head, flushing a little and grinning. She's obviously pleased by the compliment. "I've never actually run into a real ghost," she rambles in lieu of knowing what to say. "Have you?"

But then he's stopping in the hall way and her attention is entirely on him, her bottom lip caught between her teeth as her gaze devours him. He looks like some sort of sex god, or a guy on a bodice ripper romance novel right now and that desire that had been momentarily stifled by the simple pleasure of being complimented by a cute guy comes rushing back, suffusing every cell in her body with a fire and need that she hasn't felt in far too long. Her eyes linger on that line of muscle just beneath his hipbones and holy everything why is that such a good line of muscle for a guy to have. When he speaks, it takes her a second to realize it, her eyes finally flickering from that expanse of muscle and the obvious show of his own desire up to his face. "Uhm...what? Why?"

Wait a minute. Did she say Demon? Really, he shouldn't be surprised, and maybe he isn't. He's seen a lot of weird shit, okay? Demons being a real thing, that's not such a stretch. It's just initially a surprising thing. Really, his mind wraps itself around that pretty quickly, accepts it as truth.

In any case, he's got more (ahem) pressing matters to consider in the moment. So pressing that he almost misses her question. "I live in Louisiana, the place is full of ghosts." At least, that's part of the mythology and folklore of the place. Ghosts on every corner in every building. Alcide can't say for sure if he's ever run into a ghost. He's had some pretty odd, unexplained experiences though.

His eyes slowly open, brown in the moment, but he can almost feel them turning golden, like his wolf's eyes. They aren't turning gold, of course. But that doesn't mean he doesn't think they are.

He looks at Buffy, head slowly canting back in the right position as a low rumbling growl continues to escape him at every exhale, almost like a dangerous purr. Then his large hands are on her shoulders and he's got her pinned against a wall. He's kissing her almost ravenously, with such fervor that he can't imagine why this could be wrong. It feels right. Everything about this feels right in the moment. It doesn't matter where they are or who might see. He doesn't give a shit.

"I want you, Casper." He hisses against her lips, already reaching for the zipper of her jumpsuit to pull me down. "Wanna see you in white."

Demon. There's a wide variety of them in her world. Really, she's not certain that not all monsters in her world are some kind of demon, even vampires.

Yeah, she's thinking of those pressing matters as well, or trying not to think of them. She's trying very hard to focus on what he's saying so she's nodding like she agrees, like she knows what he's talking about. "I've never been to Louisiana," she responds because she's not thinking about how he's half naked and practically vibrating with desire that seems contagious. She's trying not to think about how her whole body is feverish with want.

Her teeth bury in her bottom lip as he watches her and she looks back at him.

That rumbling growl makes her breath catch and she stifles a mewling sort of moan against her lip. She can almost taste blood then he's touching her and kissing her, breathing her and devouring her and it's exactly what she wants. No, it's exactly what she needs. Her hands are all over his skin and her legs wrap around his waist, pressing the center of herself against his hardness. There's a very small, very quiet voice in the back of her head that tells her this hallway is full of cameras and anyone could be watching, but her desire for him, her need for him smothers that little voice.

He's whispering against her mouth and telling her what she already knows, echoing her own desires. Her hands tangle in his hair, tugging at it and she bites at his bottom lip. Her body, her lips, her kiss, her breath all scream how much she wants him, how much she needs him and in this moment, she doesn't even question it.

"I'm about to show you Louisiana." The words are heavy laden with desire as he continues exactly on the same path he's on because she hasn't said no. In fact, she seems to be right there with him, side by side, or front to front as the case may be, kissing, grabbing, scratching, biting right back. He's being given every bit as much as he's giving, and let's just say that it's been awhile since that's happened in any of his relationships. Too long. so long that he could get drunk on just this.

It's only that perceived amped up wolf in him that wants to push it farther, wants to take all of it, whatever he can get. And right now, it seems like it's all of it, on both sides.

When she wraps her legs around his waist and he feels that pressure, that friction, only separated by thin cotton, he's ready to rip her jumpsuit open right then. And really he does try to stop himself, tries to focus on kisses that are all teeth and tongue and neediness. But then the seam at the zipper is tearing and he can reach inside to touch pale, smooth skin. The paleness of her skin is a beautiful contrast to the red.

His hips push in and in and in to get more even as his fingers fondle and pinch at pert nipples. "You want me too." He can already tell this is true. He just wants and needs to say it. Because Alcide, on a normal day, isn't this guy either. He's only this guy when the Alpha gets to him. He hates who he is when that happens. Right now he wants. Tomorrow he's gonna have to atone for a lot. "Wanna hear you say it, Buffy."

In any other situation, she would probably crack up laughing, but right now she's too distracted by the feel of him, the smell and taste of him. Right now, all she can think about is more of this. It hasn't been as long for Buffy (Spike was always all in with their relationship), but that doesn't mean that she's not relishing every moment of this. Getting drunk on this any other day would be the best way to spend an evening, but right now all Buffy can want is more.

She'll hate herself tomorrow. She'll be awkward and embarrassed. She may even try to avoid him for a little while, but right now none of that is on her mind. Her nails dig into his skin (he'll probably have scratch marks tomorrow) and she arches against him, pressing harder, asking for more physically, gasping for breath and needing so much to taste more of him. She sucks at his bottom lip, not caring that he's ripping her jumpsuit. She moans softly when his hands are finally against her skin, warm and calloused in all of the right places.

She presses harder against him, the heels of her feet digging into his ass as her hands slide down his back. She doesn't care that the wall is hard against her back. She bucks against him when he pinches her. "Fuck yes, I want you. Right now," she says it almost as an order then dips her head to place her lips against his neck then bites hard. She squirms and wiggles against him, trying to shed the jumpsuit she's partially wearing.

Compared to Buffy's smooth skin, Alcide's is rough from working so long in construction. His hands are large and strong, gripping her firmly and at other times, surprisingly gentle. Once he's helped her out of her jumpsuit and pushed his own down to his ankles, their size difference is magnified as he easily lifts her up to leverage her against the wall. He doesn't even need that added strength and adrenaline of the wolf to lift her.

There's nothing between them now, as his arousal slides along the slick already gathered between her thighs. Normally, he might have tried to go slower, to be more gentle, more romantic, to be more himself, but right now that's the last thing on his mind. He's at his basest instincts. Girl pretty. Sex. Fuck. Want. Yes. Now.

Already, he's inside. It's so easy with the both of them wanting the way they do right now. He growls again, kissing, biting, tasting blood and Buffy herself, fucking with a wildness that Alcide might be accustomed to with partners he's familiar with. Tomorrow, he'll know that this was and is different. He's only known Buffy a day and a half, after all. But right now, he's being very much himself, very much the Alpha wolf parts of himself. And as long as Buffy seems okay with that, so is he.

One of the benefits of being a slayer: she doesn't get calluses and most of the time she doesn't scar. She likes that combination of strong, rough hands and gentle touch. Thier size differences are almost comical.

Nothing between them is exactly how she wants things right now. Right now, she doesn't want slow or gentle or even romantic. Right now, the only thing Buffy wants is this. She wants him hard and hot between her legs. She wants him inside her. She wants the way he growls and the way he bites her, that sting of pain and blood.

She keeps one hand fisted in his hair as he thrusts into her. Their kisses are desperate, all teeth and tangled tongues. When she breaks the kiss breathlessly, she bites, licks and tastes his skin. She rides him, grinding against each thrust. Tomorrow, or later, she'll be awkward; she'll realize just how not like her this is and she'll hate herself. Right now, she is utterly okay with this. The girl she is has been totally stripped to the bone so that she's just the slayer.

Nothing about this is slow or romantic. This is fucking, rough and wild and uninhibited against a wall, in a hallway, where everyone and anyone, including the cameras, can see them. It's not how Alcide, in his right mind, would have gone about this. And it's not how Buffy, in her right mind, would have allowed it to happen. But here they are and in the state of mind they're in, it's perfect. It's animalistic in nature. It's just what Alcide wants and needs.

The wall for leverage at her back, Alcide's large hands grip her hips to hold her up. There will probably be bruises on her hips as well as scratch marks. He can already taste blood from her bites at his lips and he knows he's given her lips the same treatment. Now he just growls, grunts, and thrusts again and again, fucking her against the wall in the most brazen of ways.

Everything inside is tight. The wolf, or his perception of the wolf, is like a wolf in a hen house. "Aw fuck... You're so fuckin' hot, Buffy." He grinds the curse out as he picks up speed, pushes harder, faster, just... more.

Edited 2016-10-22 15:20 (UTC)

Right now, in the drugged state of mind that Buffy is in right now, she doesn't want anything slow or romantic. Rough, wild and uninhibited is exactly what speaks to the part of her that she didn't think existed in this place.

The bruises on her hips will match the bite marks on his neck. She stifles her groans and screams with her teeth in his skin, the taste of his blood on her tongue. Her lips are going to be swollen and cut, but at the moment she's only thinking about this and how much she wants him, how good he feels, how perfect this is in the moment. Later, she'll think about how wrong it was, but this isn't later.

She is more fully stripped down to the slayer than she has ever been. She remembers meeting the first slayer, that raw primitiveness of her and right now, she feels like that slayer despite not having the strength of that slayer. "Oh God," she grits out against the curve of his neck. "More. Don't dare fucking stop."

"Fuck no." As if he'd think of stopping. Alcide isn't in a mental space where there's a stop sign, much less a yield sign. He's uninhibited. If he could actually shift, he might be a danger to people as many wolves in his world can be out of their own stupidity. This moment is as raw as he can possibly get without his ability to shift. There is no stopping.

His breath catches in his throat as he fucks her hard against the wall. As if he needed more, the sounds she makes reach inside him, adding an extra layer to the overwhelming, unhindered pleasure he's feeling. It's wildness at it's most base definition and Alcide revels in it. So rarely in his life has he allowed this of himself, so rarely that he can't even could all the fingers of one hand in remembrance of those times. Maybe once or twice.

Everything is tight, his inside, his outsides, the way her legs wrap around him, the way certain muscles clench and release around him. He can't hold back anymore. His movements become erratic and he cants his head back as he feels all of that tight coil release. "Fuckin' hell..." He growls. Damn near perfect if not for that place in the far away parts of his mind, thoughts that he's not listening to right now.

That makes two of them. Buffy probably wouldn't be a danger the way he would, but she'd be a lot more aggressive in general.

The fact that the noises are spurring him on are secondary; Buffy couldn't stifle those noises any more even if she wanted to. Her legs squeeze tighter around him and she bucks her hips against him in rhythm with his thrusts. The only time she can remember being like this is that night with Spike after she'd come back from Heaven when they'd knocked down the house. This isn't a part of herself that she usually feels the need to give into. There had been that night with Riley, but that had been magic, which might be a little more on the nose than the other incident.

As his movements become more erratic, Buffy braces herself against the wall, against his body, one hand tangled up in his hair, gripping a fistful of it hard as she finds that release and lets it wash over her, a wordless sort of gasp ripping from her. Her hand slips from his hair and winds around his neck as her body goes boneless against him for a moment. "Oh hell..." she gasps, trying to catch her breath.

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Daycycle 112 [ October 16 - October 22 ]

daycycle 112

[Oct 16 - Oct 22]

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