Latice struggled beautifully. He savored the friction between their bodies as he squeezed her to him, waiting for the tell-tale sluggishness to set in, replacing her vigor with promise. Her net-adorned legs were unsteady when the first part of their dance was concluded, and the fear in her face, climbing through the fumes to make itself known on the features he'd obsessed over, was every bit as invigorating for his heart and its blood as he'd hoped. He followed her in her precarious attempt for her car. Laius even petted her shoulder as he accompanied her. There was no need to bite the rabbit when it had already lost its jump.<br/><br/>He was close when she turned around and stared straight into her lazy mouth when it tried to say something formidable. He waited until she fell, and carried her merrily to his own vehicle. He placed her on the seat and kissed her knee as he slid off her. It was hard not to peek under her dress, but he'd rather be on time than found out. His plan allowed for some leisure, but it was better to be short about this abduction business. She'd been careless locking up alone, he wouldn't return the favor by being frivolous already.<br/><br/>He spoke to her on the way to his apartment. A small monologue about how she would love his place. It was perfect, really, and he'd discovered that about three years ago. Loft in an old house with perfectly isolated floors. By some scheming, he'd been able to rent the apartment under him before a clothing store made a bid on it. Now they paid his rent and some pocket money to leave their inventory there, provided he delivered to them twice a month. Shit job, but the perk was nobody ever heard what went on in his apartment.<br/><br/>Laius was a pretty person, with his chin sharp and his jaw brandished, all set over a long neck. He could have been the image of a starving artist if it wasn't the larger build he'd inherited from his father. It let him abuse himself, and subsist on almost any foul diet, and still he'd wake up like this, stretched-out muscles and healthy, long limbs. He stalked around the apartment, well lit, when she woke up. A simple introduction to bondage first. He'd even let her keep her dress and stocking and boots. Strange, though, if she cared to notice, her underwear was gone.<br/><br/>He was wearing a tank-top, deliberately loose around the wires of his appendages, and gray jeans reaching down to well worn boots. It wasn't all a ruse, he did love his clothes hard, but he was well connected too, with people who priced their clothes on how old they looked when they were new. A false society of superficial wares, but it catered to his kind of pathology. Her hands were tied to the arms of the metal chair, and her legs to its legs, parting her knees.<br/><br/>He came to her feet, and knelled there, putting one elbow in her lap as he looked her in the face. "Hey Latice. I know you said you didn't wanna see my apartment, but here we are." he announced and waved back at his wealth of chrome grunge. Concrete and porcelain, driftwood and baroque. He lived deliberately, and everything he owned was his image. He licked a silver ringed finger and then stroked her cheek with it. It was to keep his hand close to her mouth, if she decided to scream. "You want a bite to eat, or would rather we get right to the fun bits?" One of his green eyes was courted by the wave of dark hair coming from his scalp. A dramatic haircut, slightly grown out on the sides. The hand supporting his cheek hooked two fingers into his mouth too, before it shot between her legs, up the folds of her dress, to gently brush against her defenseless mounds, painting them with her own spit.