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[ first off: don't ask questions about the username. Bigby assumes it's subtle enough considering no one here knows him as the Big Bad Wolf, but he doesn't really... realize... the implications of the abbreviation he chose. oh well.

there's more pressing matters to attend to. ]

Not even here a goddamn month and shit goes to hell. Because of course. So much for peace.

[ on camera is a man who doesn't seem very pleased with the current chaos of the recent bombing. a moment is given to take a drag of his cigarette between words, blowing a puff of smoke straight towards whoever is watching. ]

I need information on the fugitives. Don't care if you're best friends or you've crossed paths with them once. Backgrounds, real names, affiliations, common hangouts. Also addresses on where they live. Give me a scent to work with and they'll be found.

[ another inhale of nicotine before he smothers the embers on a nearby surface. he's still as displeased as five seconds ago. ]

Also don't really care if they're in deep with this Shady Fucker or just a matter of "wrong place, wrong time". They have questions to answer one way or another. Got a problem with that? Take a wild guess on how I feel.

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[It's incredibly tempting to keep up that bickering conversation. It's been ages since she's gotten to properly fight with someone, and she can't deny she'd like to take it a bit further. He is attractive, that much is clear, and god knows she wouldn't mind proving him wrong on that kissing bit.

But there's such a thing as being too eager, and so she lets it drop. Besides: his answer is intriguing.]

Elaborate.

[One day, she'll learn to say please. Rosalind comes forward, perching on the other end of the couch, pure interest in her gaze.]

What size are they? I assume they're more beastly in turn . . . is it simply the abilities of a normal wolf, combined with human intelligence, or can you do more? Well, obviously you can in some capacity if you're immortal, but beyond that, I mean.

[ Bigby's ridiculous enough to consider her silence on the matter of kissing as a victory. because victories mean something to him, obviously — especially when they award him with nothing but curiosity as to what the hell is going on inside of that head of hers. no sense of smell is going to get through Rosalind, and that's frustrating as hell.

it's time to move on from such a ridiculous conversation, though. she pries further and further and he can't believe he's been willing to give so much information about himself to her in such little time. not even Aranea has been able to coerce this out of him. what the fuck. ]

You know, I thought I was over here for information on the culprits. Does this mean I'm offering you less when I find them?

[ just give it a few seconds and he'll give into the demand for deets. ]

It's... not that simple. Before I go full-on wolf, you have. You know. [ this is awkward to explain without showing. ] Imagine my hand from a few minutes ago but with my whole body. After that is your typical werewolf. —I assume you know what a werewolf is. Sounds anti-climatic, but the worst one is the actual wolf. Nothing normal about it, though.

[She waves a hand impatiently, neatly betraying her priorities. She still wants the money, but this is far more interesting, and honestly? She'll suffer the loss if it means she gets to hear more about Bigby's powers.]

How is a wolf worse than a werewolf?

[A beat, and then she adds:]

And what would it take for you to give me a practical demonstration?

Because it's worse than a werewolf. Jesus. Just trust me, alright?

[ he'll WAVE A HAND IMPATIENTLY right back at you, lady. don't test him!!!

Rosalind should have known her last question would prompt a smartassed response, though. without even skipping a beat, and with a completely still face at that, he retorts: ]

A kiss.

[Yeah, she definitely walked into that one. Rosalind eyes him for a long few seconds, her expression decidedly unimpressed. She's not going to lose, Bigby.]

Is that a guarantee?

[ unimpressed, his ass. Bigby is going to take that as a poker face if he's ever seen one. he is satisfied with that alone, but he can't just have his own bluff called immediately. ]

I don't know. Depends on how good the kiss is. If it leaves me wanting, I might have to renege.

Oh, no. Make a deal and stick to it, Mr. Wolf, none of this depends nonsense.

[She tips her head, waiting expectantly. A beat, and then, with far too much arrogance:]

Besides: it would be one kiss. You're guaranteed to be left wanting.

So damned assertive. Find a lot of success in that?

[ he's deflecting. Bigby isn't sure why he is digging himself into a hole as deep as he has, but it's hard to climb out by now. he supposes he can only drag her down with him. ]

So damned confident I'm going to like it, too. —One kiss translates into ten seconds of your practical demonstration. And no, you aren't seeing the biggest one. Gonna need a whole lot more than kissing for that.

[Her mouth draws into something that might, in someone who isn't Rosalind Lutece, be called a pout. It's not directed at him; it's just that she wants what she wants, and she doesn't take well to flat denial.

But she'd hardly be who she is if she simply stamped her foot each time she didn't get her way. And though this had started as a hypothetical, she's starting to think he's quite serious.

Ten seconds, hm? Well, it won't be the worst ten seconds she's ever spent. Far from it, frankly.]

I'll keep that exchange in mind.

[She will see that final form, she's determined. But for now . . . for now, she edges closer, til she's in range of him, and cocks her head.]

You're quite serious?

[Swear to god, if she kisses him and he doesn't show her what she wants to see, she'll be pissed.]

[ why is Bigby doing this? he signed up for information on the outlaws, and yet, has somehow found himself in a situation where he is offering some show and tell for a simple kiss. there's a lot of psychoanalysis and pride to be blamed for all of this, but he is sure to have some kind of introspective hangover once this moment passes. when he should have that psuedo-permanent wall up and secured around him, he's actually dancing around the topic with a woman he has barely gotten to know. ]

I don't think it would make for much of a funny joke, so... [ a shrug. he isn't making it easy for her. ] There's worse reasons for me going to that point than to feed your neverending curiosity, I guess.

[ he notes that she is closing in. too bad he's remaining seated and not standing for her. gonna have to get nice and comfortable somewhere if you want some hot lip action with the former sheriff. ]

[This is, objectively, kind of stupid. Robert's going to come back and she'll have to tell him that she kissed a man (a wolf-man) just to see him transform, and he's going to laugh at her, and he'll be right to, because this is stupid.

But she is curious. There's nothing that tempts her more than a mystery half-solved, and he's dangling one in front of her right now. And he is rather attractive, in that rough sort of way, and-- well, the fact of the matter is, it's hardly the worst thing she's ever done for information.

His lack of mobility makes for a bit of a problem, because of course he's not going to make this easy. Of course he's going to be damned difficult about the very thing he'd propositioned. Rosalind frowns at him for a moment, letting him know what happens next is his fault, before her hand darts up between them and grabs his tie. He's so bloody tall, which is entirely unnecessary, it's hideous, and so she pulls him in closer to her, leaning up at the same time.

It's a damn good kiss. She's spent twenty years with Robert; she knows how to kiss a man. And it's a kiss that's edged with a touch of aggression, because she shan't be some wilting flower about this. She's pressed up against him, her free hand thrown over him to keep her balance, and god, but that sure is a lot of hard muscle pressing up against her, isn't it? That's . . . boy. She isn't so addled she'll slide her fingers over him and confirm that fact, but good god.]

[ this is dumb. this is dumb. this is soooooo fucking dumb. Bigby's mind is nothing but some variation of these words as she approaches, becoming closer and closer with every footstep. he can't even blame all of these bad decisions solely on Rosalind, as she is doing nothing but actively pursuing knowledge to sate her own curiosity. what is his excuse? frustration? sexual frustration?

at least he gets a laugh by making her work for it. —until she reaches down and grabs him by that damn tie, that is. fuck. he never knows why he wears the tie. it does him no favors. as indicated, this is all his fault and he's left growling at the rough handling before their mouths are crashed together. there's no expected gentleness, mind you, when considering how he enticed this situation in the first place. his body is no longer sitting on the couch and he is instead pressed into her in a closer manner than either of them would have imagined.

while she is off having conflictions over whether or not she wanted to touch his muscles, he's going to go ahead and reach behind her neck to grab a fistful of her hair. Bigby doesn't do this much, — kissing, that is — so he just says... fuck it. might as well enjoy this spontaneous bullshit while it lasts. so kiss Rosalind he shall, nails biting at the back of her neck while the other is secured on her hip, keeping her close. if she tried pulling away prematurely, he'd pull back in with his teeth on her bottom lip to continue. neither of them described how extensive of a kiss it should be, so... ]

[See, now it's a competition.

It hadn't been before. Before, it had been about getting something, and perhaps showing off a bit in the process. It had been a kiss of payment, nothing more. But then he'd grabbed her hair and his nails scraped against her skin and she'd let out a noise, surprised and (admittedly) quite pleased, which of course is both completely unacceptable and needs to be compensated for, so now it's a bloody competition.

And it's still his fault.

So no, she shan't pull away. She does pull back to breathe, just for a moment, but then his teeth are biting at her bottom lip and so she darts back in, kissing him firmly, leaning forward just a touch. It's an aggressive move; it's a move that's meant to be bossy and firm, to show she's the one calling the shots around here.

It also doesn't last. Ten seconds, he'd said, and though she's enjoying this far too much, she wants to win. So her hand releases his tie, darting up to card through his hair. If she gets her way, she'll tug his head back, pulling away from the kiss at the same time, so she's left panting down at him as he bares his throat (even if it's only for a moment).]

Good enough for you, Bigby, or are you eager for me to try again?

Edited (wait no ) 2017-11-07 05:09 (UTC)

[ oh. was it ten seconds already? that flew by pretty quickly.

Bigby doesn't know if he is more frustrated in the fact that he is the reason for this tomfoolery or because he wishes he didn't put a time limit. ten seconds should be more than enough for something as simple as a kiss, especially when it is to do nothing but provoke one another. there shouldn't be any emotion or feelings attached. neither of them can say that they are more than acquaintances or "business partners".

maybe it's the way she dives back in to continue the kiss after he chews on her bottom lip, but he is awfully tempted to show her what those nails of his could do. he doesn't know if he particularly enjoys her trying to come out on top of if it just pisses him off further. the kiss is ended by her roughly pulling him away from her mouth before he can decide, and he's left growling from the abrupt ending. his tongue can be seen running along the outside of his lips, flicking against pointed canines before taking a harsh swallow of spit.

he takes a moment to gather his composure before he responds, pulling away from her and straightening his collar and tie. his hair is run through in an attempt to fix that as well. ]

Would it matter if I was? Deal's a deal. I asked for ten seconds and that's what I got.

[ it almost sounds like he's frustrated about that or something. ]

[He's not the only one sorry it ended. Rosalind's fingers press against her lips for a few seconds, mimicking the pressure that had just been there. That growl had sent a shudder down her spine, leaving her heart pounding and her breath catching, and idly she wonders if he can smell--

Well. Never mind that. Rosalind's hands go to her hair, fingers tugging at pins to loosen the strands. He'd knocked it free of its sensible updo; now she's got to redo it again.]

I'd be interested to know.

[She'd be interested in seeing what it might be like to have fangs at her throat, frankly. Her gaze had lingered just a little too long as his tongue had run over them, but her eyes focus back up on his.]

Or do you offer nothing for free?

[ if his nose does pick up on anything, Bigby doesn't let his face show it. he's rude, grumpy and lacks a filter, but he didn't think there would be much entertainment out of flustering her to death while also giving her an idea of the true extent of his sense of smell. let's just say that he makes note of how she reacts to the primal noises that have already escaped him. ]

Interested in what? Knowing if I wanted more?

[ eyelids narrow and he's speculating her every motion now, from the way her eyes dance around the movement of his tongue to matching his gaze with one of her own. he doesn't rush into answering her, instead wanting to see if she cracks under the pressure that their impromptu kiss has brought upon her. ]

Don't know if you've noticed, but I'm not much of a charitable guy.

[Her hands keep at their task as Rosalind considers her next move. She is interested, though she suspects she knows the answer already-- but it's one thing to guess and another to hear the information directly from the man himself.]

No, you're not. And you still owe me something.

[She pauses for a moment, her pins gathered in her lap and her hair around her face. Then, as she begins the process of pinning it back up again:]

But tell me the price for hearing if you want more. And I'll keep it in mind for the next time I want to make a deal with you, hm?

[ Bigby is trying really, really hard to remain patient. with himself and with Rosalind especially. she stands there in front of him, taking her time doing her hair again while provoking him into making further mistakes. he doesn't answer immediately. there's nothing but a sigh and yet another eye roll towards the ceiling, shoulders slumping in what almost seems like defeat.

no price is given. just a hand brought to the back of her neck again, pushing her hand away to free her hair for him to hold onto once more. she will feel nails biting into her skin a second time, except this time, nails are sharpened to a point. just like that, his eyes have suddenly changed from brown to a bright gold. his beard has thickened considerably, and though his mouth is closed, there's no doubt that she can see how his jaw has loosened to allow room for his teeth to grow. ]

You couldn't handle the price. Guess I know how to be charitable after all.

[ he's growling once more, though this time, it is almost as natural and permanent as his way of breathing. going to call his bluff this time, Lutece? ]

[Her eyes widen, darting about his face. For all she's seen and done, she's never watched a man transform like this before. It's stunning in its ease, and Rosalind's eyes dart about his face, trying like hell to memorize what's shifting and changing and what stays the same. His teeth are growing, she's certain, and his eyes-- oh, look at that color, why do his eyes change? Does he see better in the dark? What about his sense of smell, has that improved? She has a thousand questions and a man reluctant to answer any of them, but it's thrilling enough that she at least gets to see.

Her heart is pounding hard, her breath shallower than it was before. It's not just scientific excitement coursing through her veins right now, after all. She'd be a fool not to feel a little fear, instinctive and unable to be helped. But it's only a hint, woven stealthily between excitement and something filthier.

Her teeth catch against her bottom lip, an unconscious action.]

Don't presume to guess what I could and couldn't handle, Mr. Wolf. It'll take more than that display to frighten me or drive me off.

[His nails prick against the back of her neck, quietly painful without actually drawing blood or threatening to sink through muscle. He could, she knows. Those nails feel as though they mean business; likely he could kill her in a heartbeat if he felt like it.

But he shan't. She doesn't need omniscience to know that.

He growls those words out, his voice lower and more guttural than before, and Rosalind wonders just how many instincts are at play right now. Does he feel more wolfish? Or is it simply ordinary testosterone at play, rushing through his veins to compensate his sudden shift in size? Hmm.

She tips her head back farther, tipping it just a touch to the side. It's a movement that bares her throat just a bit, and she wonders if he'll take the bait.

If nothing else, it evens them out. She'd bared his throat before, forcing his head back as she'd broken their kiss.]

[ he isn't surprised at her reaction. not in the slightest. Bigby has witnessed many different kinds over the centuries. from the obvious like complete and utter fear to sheer curious, Rosalind's isn't new. that thin line between intrigue and further attraction may not be a common one, but he has gotten it a time or three in the past. whether or not he actually humored it by acting on an opportunity is another thing entirely. ]

You think I'm trying to frighten you right now? [ there's a bit of a snarl that follows. sorry. Bigby really isn't trying to scare her. promise! ] That's cute. Can't believe you think I'd benefit from that. If I want to make your knees shake, it's not going to be because of fear.

[ hopefully she isn't overly partial to the idea of keeping her hair clean and tidy, because his digits are pulling back to further expose her throat to him. yeah, he's noticed how she has purposely and subtly moved in that direction. Bigby leans forward and down, agonizingly slow so that she would be forced to see him disappear from her peripheral view with only his breath gusting against her collarbone.

she can most likely feel the tips of his pointed canines graze the tight skin of her neck, but there's no bite. he instead deeply inhales her scent, almost as if imprinting it in his memory. with his other hand suddenly gliding up the side of her thigh and resting on her hip, she would surely assume he is going to give her what she clearly wants.

it never happens. instead, he whispers underneath his breath and right into her ear. ]

That's what I offer for free. Nothing more.

[Oh, damn it, Bigby.

Damn it, damn it-- this is so dreadfully unfair, it's hideously so, because he's being a tease and whatever points she'd gained from breaking off their kiss first are suddenly lost as a shiver runs up her spine. He'll hear the sudden catch of her breath and the way her heart is suddenly racing; he'll be able to smell how much he'd just affected her.

No, she's not frightened. Affected, oh, yes, and annoyed at herself because of it, but most certainly not frightened. Rosalind runs her hands over him, the gesture surprisingly direct, the path a reversal of his own hand's teasing: starting at his hips and drifting upwards, palms flat against his torso, til she reaches his shoulders.]

You--

[Christ. She bites on her bottom lip, trying to focus herself. She's not going to be some gasping schoolgirl about this, she refuses, no matter how overwhelming he intends to be.]

Then you ought to think about your price, shouldn't you? For a time when you're not running off to catch a bounty.

[He's got a tight grip on her hair, but Rosalind returns the favor. One hand drifts upwards, fingers carding through his hair and tugging, intent on drawing him away from her throat. There's still a flush to her cheeks, but Rosalind's expression is composed once more, at least.]

Though I wouldn't frame it that way to anyone else. They might get the wrong idea.

[You know, prices and payments, somebody might think the former sheriff is in a different line of business entirely. Just saying.]

[ he can't help but imagine that the state of mind Rosalind finds herself in is one that doesn't see the light of day very often. it sure as hell isn't one for Bigby. perhaps the thought of such a rare moment surfacing for the both of them was why they were even continuing these foolish acts. what was supposed to be nothing more than an exchange of information escalated into a contest of sorts that culminated in kissing and now a former-sheriff-turned-man-wolf groping up a woman for the sole purpose of seeing what it would do to her.

at least he's getting an answer in one way or another. if the tells weren't so obvious in the way she sighs and catches her lip with her teeth, it is certainly her scent. he's taking another sniff, listening to her continue to try and remain coy even now. instead of responding, he bluntly calls her out on something he has noticed for who knows how long now: ]

Do you know just how well I can smell you? Probably not. [ she's pulling his hair by that point, and it will take a considerable amount of her strength to find success. Rosalind is successful, though, warranting nothing but a growl as his lips are now hovering her own for a second time. those beast-like eyes glare straight towards her. ] Let's just say that you might want to... nnn, consider a change of panties when I'm gone.

[ maybe she expects another kiss at this point. maybe she hopes he just pushes her into a wall and ravishes her, saying fuck it to the idea of drawing any type of line. whatever the case might be, all she gets from him is a sudden, deep squeeze of her ass before pulling away altogether. he's back to normal by that point, albeit maybe a little... tight in the pants. ]

Wouldn't want you getting jealous of me getting information that way, huh.

[Thank god her teeth are already worrying at her bottom lip; it means that she bites down hard as he grabs her ass, avoiding letting out any noise that might have wanted to sound. She won't give him the satisfaction of a squeak or a gasp, no, and that's the very least of it.

Because, see, there's lines. There's kissing and then there's this, and she might have encouraged that if he'd intended to fuck her (because frankly, that had felt good), but as it stands, he clearly isn't, and she's no intention of letting that continue.

That would be bad enough. But his words leave her all but snarling herself, embarrassment and anger threading together and leaving her glaring up at him. Her eyes blaze, and though she's a foot-and-change shorter than him, still she draws herself up, her mouth pursed.]

Please. As if I'd grow jealous of you bedding every refugee here. And the next time you have such a filthy comment, keep it to yourself or you'll get a slap.

[ there's a smug sense of satisfaction in being able to anger her. he feels that some of it is warranted for even going along with all of this as long as they did. all that was gained from their tense interaction was a need for a cold shower. if Rosalind's eyes wander, there's no doubt a visible outline running down the length of his leg that could only be one thing. he makes no attempt to hide it, instead running his hands through his own hair to fix it prior to crackling his knuckles.

transforming back into a human has a habit of making his hands stiff. who knows if he might need them to, you know. squeeze her ass against or something. ]

Filthy? If you want filthy, I can give you filthy. You're pissed that I've left you wet and you want to take it out on me. So go on. Slap me.

I'm angry because you're acting as though you're entitled to broadcast to the world what you ought to keep to yourself simply because you've got all the talents of a dog.

[But hey, never let it be said she doesn't follow up on her threats: the moment she's finished correcting him her left hand is flying. And if she manages to land it on him, he'll see she wasn't holding back, not at all; it's a slap with intention, because he's attractive but she shan't suffer any man being so filthy.

(Or, well. At least, not when he intends to leave her. She might suffer it a fair bit if he intended to bring her to bed, but much like the groping, it's right off the table now).]

video | un: bbw

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tmw we have a future dated thread and i don't know how much i want to jeopardize it

ros just denies everything anyway it's fine

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