Private Finished I'm Bad Behavior But I do it in the Best Way

"Well," Yoka said. She pursed her lips. She took another swing from the wine. It was good shit.

Unfortunately, she was about to cross into uncomfortable territory. Double unfortunately, Gin threw her off by saying that he wanted to take her home with him. Yoka was not entirely certain where his home was. She was not entirely certain if she wanted to leave this island--this was home for her. Yoka wasn't looking for salvation. She was looking for eternity. Eternity here.

"It can't be that simple," Yoka said. Her voice stilled. It chilled, too, as though a breeze from outside got trapped in her words. "If it were that simple, you wouldn't have left."

She didn't know if she wanted to know.

She asked a different question instead.

"What is your home like?"

"That sounds like it would be horrible with a hang over," Yoka mused.

Really, she was a little bit miffed by the idea that she didn't deserve to be there. So what if she didn't deserve to be there? Yoka worked hard to get where she was now. If whoever managed his home didn't like it, well, they could suck her cock.

That was fine with her, though.

Yoka took another drink.

Okay.

It wasn't fine. Maybe she wanted him. Maybe she didn't want to go with him, but why couldn't he stay? Did she really want to know that?

She didn't.

Yoka was afraid that, maybe, it wasn't that he couldn't stay. Maybe it was that he didn't want to. Maybe his heaven was perfect without her.

She passed him the bottle.

She was starting to feel warm from the alcohol. It was only a matter of time before all the illusions surrounding her started to slip away.

"You're not much different than a demon," she teased. "What with all your soul taking, your handsome male form, and all the alcohol. "

Yoka shrugged.

"We do what we have to do," she said. Of course, Yoka said that, but she wasn't entirely sure what she felt about it. Gin wasn't really human, and Yoka was far from human. She realized that she didn't know what he'd been like before he started collecting souls. She wondered if she should ask.

She wondered what it mattered. It was in the past now.

She pressed the bottle to her mouth and started to chug. it wasn't exactly the elegant behavior Yoka so liked to exhibit, but occasionally, she liked to let loose like this. She passed the bottle back to Gin and yawned, covering her mouth with her hand. Her eyes were unusually bright and her fingernails looked thick and rigid, more like claws than nails.

"Gin, let's do something reckless," she said. "Let's forget we're immortal for a night."

Yoka considered this. Her long nails tapped against the bottle going tap tap tap. Her lips were pursed and her chin was jutted out defiantly, but it was just how she looked when she was deep in thought.

Sex with gin, again, now? After all these years?

She squeezed his shoulder and then pressed the bottle to his lips so she could get another minute to think. That hadn't been what she meant when she said reckless. He knew what alcohol did to her. She didn't have that kind of time before her powers slipped away from her completely.

"No," she said. "Not yet."

Yoka did not know why, but she wanted to do something else with Gin. She wanted to have a different sort of thrill. She wanted to get her blood pumping, her heart racing, before she let him at her body again.

Yoka was not in the habit of making mistakes and she wanted to be certain that this would not be a mistake.

"Let's go break something," she said. "Let's show our competitors we mean business."

"Yes," Yoka said. "That really pretentious bar, with all the reds and blacks, and the logos, and stuff."

Because she was drinking, Yoka muddeled the bars. Yoka wanted the pretentious bar in the Strip, but instead, she was going to take Gin to the Blood Bar.

The great irony was that Yoka loved businesses that catered to non-humans. She'd considered donating a few times but never went through with it due to her paranoia about blood theft for blood magic. Just because it had not happened did not mean it wouldn't.

She stood up from the piano bench and grabbed the bottle and finished it off. She managed to walk a straight line back to the bar and tossed the bottle into the recycling bin, then turned back to Gin.

"Let's do this," she said. "Let's...let's...LETS DRAW A DICK ON IT."

"Dicks are trashy," Yoka said. She followed after him in a rush. Two of her tails were peeking out the bottom of her skirt now. As the night would go by, she would start to look more and more foxy. If she lost even more of her illusion skills, she'd be a furry animal before the end of the night.

The air was cold but the alcohol and thought of adventure warmed her.

"We need spray paint," Yoka said. "Unless you have a better idea. What oculd be better than drawing a big dick? Omg, Gin, I know. We could draw a dick on a fork and it could say SUCK ON THIS."

"I'm drunk?" Yoka said at him, in the too-loud voice of someone who was most definitely drunk. "You're the one whose name is GIN."

This completely ignored the fact that Yoka's last name was also an alcoholic beverage. When she realized that Gin was right and that they would not be able to get spray paint, Yoka made a strangled noise and ran back to the club.

She came out a few minutes later with a purse full of random things, including a bag of flower, some honey, a few bottles of nailpolish, an actual can of spray paint, and what looked like a fork. Who knows what else was in there. Yoka didn't.

"Let's draw a dick on their trash and then throw the trash can inside the building," Yoka said. She pranced around excitedly and then handed Gin the bag. "Here. This is heavy. Don't drop it though, it's precious cargo. Are you ready to go? Why are you dawdling? Cmon, let's go wreck some shit fucked up yah."

Yoka sighed dramatically. She was running now, only because it meant Gin would be chasing her.

Or, at least, that was what Sober yoka might thought. Dunk Yoka was pretty sure they had to run or they would get CAUGHT. Yoka was not a big fan of hound dogs.

"ITS A METAPHOR GIN," she said. "You should know all about metaphors since your name is a metaphor for ALCOHOL and you are DRUNK."

She skidded on a patch of ice and spun in a complete circle. She used her tails for balance and manage to stop by grabbing onto Gin for a moment. She grinned up at his face.

"We are going to trash it by putting dicks on their trash to show that we think their food tastes like trash and also something about dicks, I don't know, you're asking too many questions."

It wasn't a far jaunt to the building. When they got the bar, it was closed, especially since it was so late. Yoka was jumping up and down. Her ears were sticking out of her head now.

"GIN," she said. "GET OUT...THE PAINT."

She was yelling.

There was no way she wouldn't get caught, not at this volume.

The paint can was heavy but Yoka betrayed her own strength. She could carry this with ease. She was in fantastic shape--she could lift her own body weight and drop it down a pole, after all.

But, as it was, Yoka was not sure about this.

"No," she said honestly. "But there's no such things as absolutes, not even in hand shoes and horse grenades."

She sunk her nails into the paint can, pried off the lid, and realized a horrible problem.

"Gin," she whispered.

The paint was blood red. Yoka looked down into it. She stirred it with her claw and then rubbed the smears across her face like war paint.

"I didn't bring a paint brush," she said.

She considered this, then looked down at the tails peeking out from behind her skirt. She looked up at Gin, stared him right in the eyes, and started to pull her skirt off.

"Gin, paint the wall with my butt," she begged him. "Please Gin, smear it across the wall, I want paint dripping down my thights, draw a dick with my butt, Gin, make it hot."

Yoka squealed and giggled while he painted the wall with her butt. She couldn't believe he was doing this. She thought he would be too stuck up or too serious to do something as ridiculous--and illegal- as this.

She turned to admire his handywork, looking at the crudely drawn penis.

"Hmm," she stroked her chin. YOka took on the air of a young woman at an art exhibit admiring a particularly emotionally provocative work.

"Ahh yes, the colors speak to me, the bold red brush strokes, the firm round balls, this is indeed a cock," she said. She looked at Gin's hand and realize it was red.

"You could have just dunked me in the can," she said. "Think about it. You could have asked me to straddle you while you dipped me in there and rubbed me up and down against the wall. You'd have felt my breasts pressing against your chest. It could have been quite erotic but...probably not as effetive. It would have made a sloppy penis. Good call, Gin, the dick comes first. This is art we're talking about."

She giggled again.

"Do you know what it needs though?" she said. She reached into the bag and pulled out the flower and threw it on the end to make it look like ejaculate. Unfortunately,y there was nothing on the wall to make it stick.

"Fuck," she said. "GIN. FIX IT."