Venus Dee Milo (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
celebrityskinned) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecapitol2015-01-20 12:46 am
celebrityskinned) wrote in thecapitol2015-01-20 12:46 am
Entry tags:
I'd Quench That Thirst [Closed]
WHO| Venus and Brock Samson
WHAT| Gym rat hookup.
WHEN| A few day before the crowning.
WHERE| The Training Center
WARNINGS| Sex. Also probably swearing.
They see each other regularly. After all, there are only twenty-four hours in a day and Venus spends up to six of them at the gym any given weekday, and Brock's got his own regimen. Half the time she sees him from upside down, practicing handstands, flips, situps, swinging from bars both parallel and uneven. She's usually drenched in sweat, her muscles quaking at the joint, the gym clothes she came in with sticking to her skin.
At some point, she should actually talk to him. She ponders, for a little while, a language made entirely of the grunt and huffs that they make incidental to each other in the Training Center. She wonders if an alien observer would consider it a sort of animalistic communication, like birdsong but more brutish, throaty and punctuated with gasps and wheezes.
They're the only two in the gym this morning, and Venus is finishing up her routine, dressed in a sports bra and tight shorts with "DISTRICT FIVE" printed across the ass, at Porrim's request. She grabs a towel from a rack and throws it over her shoulder, wiping her forehead with the back of her wrist. This morning has mostly been cardio: gymnastics, kickboxing, a run through the cold before she even arrived here. Her face is flushed and normally it would start to drain, but it seems to stay pinked as she approaches Brock.
"Hey, so, um, I put in that suggestion, the one about the adults only Arena."
WHAT| Gym rat hookup.
WHEN| A few day before the crowning.
WHERE| The Training Center
WARNINGS| Sex. Also probably swearing.
They see each other regularly. After all, there are only twenty-four hours in a day and Venus spends up to six of them at the gym any given weekday, and Brock's got his own regimen. Half the time she sees him from upside down, practicing handstands, flips, situps, swinging from bars both parallel and uneven. She's usually drenched in sweat, her muscles quaking at the joint, the gym clothes she came in with sticking to her skin.
At some point, she should actually talk to him. She ponders, for a little while, a language made entirely of the grunt and huffs that they make incidental to each other in the Training Center. She wonders if an alien observer would consider it a sort of animalistic communication, like birdsong but more brutish, throaty and punctuated with gasps and wheezes.
They're the only two in the gym this morning, and Venus is finishing up her routine, dressed in a sports bra and tight shorts with "DISTRICT FIVE" printed across the ass, at Porrim's request. She grabs a towel from a rack and throws it over her shoulder, wiping her forehead with the back of her wrist. This morning has mostly been cardio: gymnastics, kickboxing, a run through the cold before she even arrived here. Her face is flushed and normally it would start to drain, but it seems to stay pinked as she approaches Brock.
"Hey, so, um, I put in that suggestion, the one about the adults only Arena."