Mal - pretty strangers

For eudaimon, who seeded the quote.

you can fall for chains of silver
you can fall for chains of gold
you can fall for pretty strangers
and the promises they hold

It wasn't her fault. She'd wink at you, shrugging with that little wide eyed 'what?' motion when you teased her that there was yet another face waiting over her shoulder, all eyeliner and disappointment.

It wasn't her fault that she was beautiful, that she smiled and laughed and danced and drank and drew everyone around her into her orbit. It wasn't her fault at all that there's always fresh blood in Eden's clubs, boys and beautiful men who didn’t know yet. That sometimes the wriggling armful in your lap was nothing more than friendly, and sometimes it was much more, but only for a night or two, and that if you plied her with pretty drinks that didn’t mean that she wouldn't thank you with lipstick kisses and then allow the shimmer of someone else's beauty to distract her or have some song with a memory lure her back to one of her boys.

You'd never quite been sure what elevated you from a serial flirtation to a member of her part time harem, but with her playful fingers plucking at the chain around your neck, you never asked and you'd never been sure how long it would last, and you'd never cared. Every time she wound herself into your arms, lush against your hip and eager for tasting it was perfect. And every time she danced away you teased her and let her fly, because you'd seen what happens to the boys who whine and ask for more, and you've never needed that kind of heartbreak.

Mal - pretty strangers

For eudaimon, who seeded the quote.

you can fall for chains of silver
you can fall for chains of gold
you can fall for pretty strangers
and the promises they hold

It wasn't her fault. She'd wink at you, shrugging with that little wide eyed 'what?' motion when you teased her that there was yet another face waiting over her shoulder, all eyeliner and disappointment.

It wasn't her fault that she was beautiful, that she smiled and laughed and danced and drank and drew everyone around her into her orbit. It wasn't her fault at all that there's always fresh blood in Eden's clubs, boys and beautiful men who didn’t know yet. That sometimes the wriggling armful in your lap was nothing more than friendly, and sometimes it was much more, but only for a night or two, and that if you plied her with pretty drinks that didn’t mean that she wouldn't thank you with lipstick kisses and then allow the shimmer of someone else's beauty to distract her or have some song with a memory lure her back to one of her boys.

You'd never quite been sure what elevated you from a serial flirtation to a member of her part time harem, but with her playful fingers plucking at the chain around your neck, you never asked and you'd never been sure how long it would last, and you'd never cared. Every time she wound herself into your arms, lush against your hip and eager for tasting it was perfect. And every time she danced away you teased her and let her fly, because you'd seen what happens to the boys who whine and ask for more, and you've never needed that kind of heartbreak.