<strong>Slade Wilson, sharing a lounge chair with Emma Frost on the beach</strong><br/><br/>When Emma asked if the name Deathstroke could be applied to other things the world's greatest assassin raised an eyebrow with peaked curiosity. "And what does Miss Frost have in mind?" he asked, his voice low now, almost a whisper as it rumbled out. When her hand was offered into his he gave a brief smile. Slade guided it towards his stomach, the rock hard muscle he had developed and maintained out of sheer necessity to meet his ambitions. He didn't keep her hand there for long however, soon he shifted it downwards and pressed her hand into the stiff bulge he had noticed her noticing. From here he let go, what she wanted to do from there was her decision, he had put her in place.<br/><br/>All the while his other hand was down her bikini bottom, more importantly perhaps the finger that had pressed into her center. A bikini however didn't offer much room for... maneuvering. Deathstroke The Terminator was not known for being predictable or repetitive, be it in war or love one should always be unpredictable. His hand retreated from her the white string bikini piece, both hands were free now. Once again without lacking any kind of humility Slade moved his hands to find the strings that held her white string bikini in place. One hand positioned behind her back and one at her hip, a string from each between a thumb and an index finger...but<em>then</em>he paused. He shifted slightly in his position so that his mouth was right beside her ear. "Say the word Emma...say the word and I'll expose your body to me and anybody else that walks by. Then I'll give you a taste of what I can do. If I like what I see and what I hear I'll take you back to my hotel room and prove that I'm the best there is. Just say the word."