Sincerely, Yours Truly (Tag:Mason)

[MALLORY TORRES]

Mallory had enough of hearing about Mason and who Mason is 'supposedly' sleeping with each day. She just wanted to enjoy a day that didn't have to lead her mind to Mason. She just wanted to escape from Mason and her invasive thoughts about him. No matter how hard she tried to keep her mind clear of Mason, Life wanted her to think about him. Her father wanted to shove Mason in her face. He just liked seeing Mallory squirm because of his words. Mason had apparently gone to some high class party with some random bitch. Some female had taken her spot on Mason's arm. This caused Mallory to slam doors, kick walls, throw dangerous objects, and consider marching to his house to confront him. She'd give him a piece of her mind. She'd make him feel like dirt, but she'd make the feeling burn and scar. She wanted to see him so far out of his comfort zone that he'd crack his perfect facade.

She dressed in a 'normal' outfit and hailed a cab. She ordered the cab driver to Mason's house. The whole way there the driver tried drowning Mallory's voice out with the radio, but she'd get even more pissed and start yelling at him. Aside from all the crap that she was dealing with, Mallory hadn't seen any of her friends in a very long time. Jason was doing...well, whatever Jason does. Tomas was making friends and being a teenager, while Mallory just sat at home and brewed in her own stew of anger and unforgiveness. She'd have Mason's head on a platter if it was the last thing she did.

Mallory escaped the cab and hustled to the front entrance of his house and knocked obnoxiously hard and with no real rhythm. She waited for a solid ten seconds before testing the knob. Unlocked! How lucky! She slammed the front door and began her marching to find Mason. "Get your sorry ass out here, Mason." Her voice was a sure sign that she was beyond the point of strictly anger. She entered the kitchen and the thought of grabbing the butcher knife crossed her mind, but she resisted. She just need to talk to him. Clear the air. Gather the facts. Hopefully, get a kiss. Wait... NO! She wouldn't want a kiss from him. She'd want to slap him when she saw him. Yeah. A slap sounds much more fair than a kiss.

[MASON HOWARD]

Well, it could have been worse. It could have been much, much worse. He could have been fucked figuratively and literally, as opposed to just the latter. He could have been called out on the little scheme while at the party, thereby embarrassing himself even more than he had already in the few brief sentences he’d exchanged with Mr. Torres. As it was, Mason had escaped seemingly unscathed save the fairly insignificant amount of money now missing from his wallet.

And the occasional sick, spontaneous churn of his stomach whenever he thought about it, which was far more often than he’d have liked. It was hell. She was hell. The past few days had been hell—thinking about it, having the look on Mr. Torres’s face when he’d seen Mason and his “date” from across the room pop into his head far more often than it should have. Of course, there was nothing he could do about it now besides wait it out. In all honesty, Mason was surprised he’d made it this far. Not without word from the Torres’s (or, well, Mallory in particular) or even his own parents; Mason wouldn’t have put it past Mallory’s slime ball of a father to alert his own family of the fact that he was dealing with…less than savory members of society. It almost made him more nervous, not knowing what the hell was going on.

Wondering whether or not Mr. Torres had even picked up on the fact that the woman accompanying him was nothing more than a high class prostitute. But of course he had. The man was nothing if not smart, and cruel to boot. Mason knew it would only be a matter of time. The question was just whether the punishment would come from his own parents (probably in the form of being cut off for several months) or…elsewhere.

Mason was in the shower when he heard it. At first, he assumed it was just a neighbor, clumsy in exiting their vehicle of choice and thereby causing a ruckus loud enough to be heard from all the way inside his bathroom. But then said ruckus grew louder, nearer, and decidedly more distinct.

“Shit!” he hissed loudly, jerking the shower’s knobs back into their still position, panicking slightly now that he was alone, in an enclosed area away from her. Cursing all things holy in addition to his apparent inability to lock his own door, Mason rubbed himself down quickly with the towel before tugging on jeans. He thought about a shirt for a brief moment, but decided against it on a whim, almost ninety-five percent positive such a decision would either prove a life saver or blow up right back in his face.

There was a deep breath leaving Mason’s lips as he heard Mallory’s voice coming from the kitchen, thereby confirming his suspicions. He was completely and utterly fucked. There was no way around it. This was the end. So, naturally, he met his fate with a drawl and a smirk, towel still working its way through his damp hair as he looked Mallory up and down, brow quirking up slightly as he spoke. “There’s a doorbell, you know. People in high society tend to make use of things like that, instead of just barging into other people’s houses. It’s rude, for one…” he trailed off, crossing his arms after slinging the towel over his shoulder. “But since you’re already here…what the hell do you want?”

Silently, Mason prayed those words wouldn’t be his last.

[MALLORY TORRES]

Mallory's mind was set to draw blood, but she wanted to give Mason the benefit of the doubt. Not that he deserved it. She did love him once upon a time, so that was excuse enough to let him speak before she ripped out his tongue. She was leaning on the counter with her arms crossed and wearing quite the sneer when Mason made his way to the kitchen. Mallory took in a deep breath that was meant to relax her, but when she saw him shirtless he mind went straight to the bitch that had taken her spot on Mason's arm. That bitch was in his house. Probably hiding in his bedroom. Mallory ignored Mason and shoved past him. Her mind formulating some attack strategy. The best way to hurt the female before the girl could retaliate. Mallory shoved open Mason's door ready to claw, but it was empty. His bed looked like he was the only one that had occupied it. She felt her brow quirk in confusion, but she checked his closet, and then his bathroom. She sighed and rubbed her face. She gave herself a once over in the mirror and the worry lines were quite obvious.... Wait, so were the brimming tears. Why was she crying? Mason could do who and what he wanted, yet she was here.

When Mallory approached Mason again, her anger had peaked again. She was frustrated, but relieved that the whore was sleeping with him. "Who is she?" Mallory's voice was accusing and a bit hurt. She wasn't trying to cover anything up anymore.

She had told Mason everything that she wanted to tell him, aside from one minor thing. She still cared about him. Her knees still had to be locked, so that they didn't cause her to collapse. Her heart beat started to run away. She had to resist the urge to smile whenever she say him. She hated that she loved Mason. She was stuck hurting and worrying while he was out living his life.

[MASON HOWARD]

Unable to help himself, Mason actually laughed a bit when Mallory pushed past him. It was a bit satisfying, he had to admit, knowing she was upset enough to actually search through his entire house, thinking somehow the girl she'd heard about would magically pop up out of his sock drawer. He composed himself quickly, however, leaning his back against the door frame to watch her as she stormed about, one eyebrow quirked quizzically.

A few times he opened his mouth to say the expected lines--"You don't want to look there," when she wrenched open the closet door, "Seriously, don't open that," when she wrenched back the shower curtain--but the words came out flat, half-hearted. Almost taunting. He made no effort to stop her, and even less of one to explain himself. Didn't even bother asking what she thought she was doing. What would be the point? They both knew why she was here. All that was left for him to do was play along, see how far he was going to get before he got slapped, kicked, or harmed one way or another.

"All done?" he asked calmly as she stormed her way over to him, refusing to shift his position even she came closer. He was in charge here, after all. This was his house.

Still, there was never a good way to listen to her accusations. Mason stayed still, but it took a effort. The stone face was certainly thought out. "Which one?" was all he said, voice sweet as silk and smooth as honey, innocent to the point of vileness, he couldn't help but smirk as his eyes flickered over her face, waiting for the reaction.

[MALLORY TORRES]

Mallory had never been punched in the stomach, but Mason's simple question made her suck in a breath. She felt light headed and she took a cautious step backwards. Her eyes closed as the words seemed to tilt at an abnormal angle. This is what he wanted. He wanted her reaction. She took a moment to just breath as she sat on the edge of his bed. She was catching her breath and fighting the urge to cry. His words echoed through her mind, like a bad song on repeat.

"Which one?"

"How many have there been?" Mallory's words were aimed at the ground as if she had accidentally spoke out of turn. "I... My father told me about the whore that you brought to that event. He was wondering why I wasn't with you." She was still looking at the ground. Afraid to look him in the eyes. The world had momentarily stopped spinning, but she felt ill. Her stomach was tightening violently as if she'd throw up. "Who was she?" Mallory needed to pretend to be strong, so she looked up into Mason's eyes. Her's weren't cold and distant. They pleaded for an answer or anything. She stood up slowly as if to test the stability of her legs because she didn't want to just collapse or something. She crossed her arms and took a small step closer to Mason, her eyes never leaving his.

She just wanted him to be honest. If he was seeing other girls, then she'd be upset, but that would push her closer to find a guy of her own. Maybe, she could finally be happy with Jason. Why couldn't she just be happy with Jason? He was perfect for her, so there shouldn't have been much of a problem. But here she was. She was standing in front of Mason. The guy that had crushed her, yet she still loved him. Life sucked.

[MASON HOWARD]

Mason watched her, brow quirked slightly, as she sat on the bed—his bed. Good Lord, had he upset her that much? Really? He’d hardly spoken. For a moment, he almost allowed himself to feel bad. Of course, survival instinct took over the second such audacities were instantly shoved to the very back of his mind, allowing for that constant shit-fuck-this-is-all-going-to-hell feeling to become prevalent. He wasn’t panicking. Not by any means. Not yet. After all, all she’d done was tear through his house. Who was to say she even knew—

Fuck. There she went, asking difficult questions that only ever partnered with even more difficult answers. How typical. Now, anyone watching from the outside could just as easily (and perhaps rightfully) point their finger at Mason himself, say it was all his fault for brining that whore to the gathering in the first place (that was what she’d been, after all. A whore. There was no getting around it), knowing full well there was no way he could possibly get away without a single scratch on his not-so-pristine reputation. And, in all honesty, he probably would have agreed with the finger-pointer. Mason was nothing if not perceptive. Idiotic and impulsive, perhaps, but more than capable of seeing the consequences of his actions, if only days after the deed had been done.

“What, do you want a list, or a rough estimate?” he spoke coolly, tossing the towel into a hamper resting in the corner as he did so. She needn’t know there was no one. It was cruel, perhaps, but there was no other way to go about it. Besides, it was her fault for coming over here in the first place. She was asking for it. Nodding, he acknowledged the source of her knowledge; as if he hadn’t known all along. “Did he really expect you to be?” If only. Just one more reason to hate Mr. Torres, really.

At her second question, Mason merely shrugged. It was truthful, in its own right. He was fairly certain “Bambi” hadn’t been her actual name, after all. Still, he couldn’t very well tell Mallory he’d hired a whore—no, not only would that make him look desperate, never mind the fact that it had been desperation which lead him to the decision in the first place.

“Ooh, past tense,” he noted lightly, corners of his lips drawing upward smugly. Still, his eyes were wary in watching her approach. “So you think she’s gone, do you?”

Best to dance around it for as long as he could. Someone had to break eventually. Mason was only hoping it wouldn’t be him.

[MALLORY TORRES]

Mallory knew that she should have been ready... Anticipated every possible retort that Mason had, but when he spoke it was like a stab. A stab then twist. Mason wasn't nice about it either. He seemed to enjoy watching Mallory break into pieces. Her heart had always been some toy in his eyes. It was something that he played with... Used it... Abused it... Yet never seemed to let go. However, it was Mallory holding on. Afraid to let go. Scared that in losing Mason, she'd forever lose herself. It was an ill fated twist in her life. She could live with her heart being torn to bits by the one man that she ever loved. Or she could run and leave New York City behind just as Mason did to her so many years ago. The escape seemed simple enough, but she knew deep down of the consequences of her departure. She had to stay for Tomas. For Jason. For Rose.

For herself.

She had to stand her ground. New York City was her home. She wasn't going to run because of some boy.

Her long forgotten Romeo.

Something deep inside of Mallory stirred back into existence. Dorothy. Mallory hadn't expected the girl to show up anymore, but here she was pushing to speak. To be heard. Mallory gave up the reins only to realize the consequence of her action.

She sniffed back a sob as she wiped away a tear. His words fell onto deaf ears. He tossed the towel away and Mallory took a step closer and closed the gap by placing her hands on his chest. Her eyes working their way from his stomach. Watching his hydrated skin glistening from the missed water droplets. Her hands slid down to his abs and hooked into his belt loops. She took a step closer to him. Her eyes dead set and her lips inches from his own.

"I'll make you forget her... them... what have you."

This was the Mallory that Mason never got to meet. The Mallory that Dorothy forced away, only to be consumed by it. She was dependent and took what she wanted. It was a perfect front to get Mason one last time before she kicked his ass to the curb. Her actions could backfire... Explode in her face, but if she remembered correctly...Mason had a thing for brunettes... Especially ones that were Mallory Torre. Since she was the only Mallory Torres, then she had him. Eying him a bit, she spoke coolly as she pushed him back a bit. She took a few steps so that her calves hit the edge of the bed.

"Sorry for being... jealous, but that's me. I just get emotional when I get around you, but I plan on shutting those emotions up. Though Mason..."

Her hands slid up her shirt and with a quick motion her shirt was dropped to her feet. She stood there for a moment, smirking a bit. This was Mallory breaking ties. This was her having her last victory before she slumped in her bed in defeat. It killed her to be so... Sexual with Mason. Her thoughts didn't reflect on her devious smirking face.

"I've sincerely missed you..."

Her fingers unbuttoned, unzipped, then pushed her pants to her ankles. She slipped out of her heels and pants before inching on to his massive bed. This was Mallory's victory, but on the inside she felt like a loser. Like she had lost herself again.

[MASON HOWARD]

Mason watched, eyes widening ever so slightly as Mallory closed the distance between them, unable as ever not to take a quick glance over her the closer she got. Jesus, he was pathetic. She was pissed and upset and all things considered, probably winding up for the slap right now. Not that he as going to stop her. He knew he deserved it, a good hard slap on the cheek.

But..what the fuck was this? Suddenly tense as her cool fingers touched his bare chest, Mason held back the urge to smile, even if slightly. He raised his brows, glancing down at her hands once as they traced their way down his abdomen, resisting the urge to shiver in that utterly wonderful way only she could ever warrant. And as her lips brought themselves closer to his, he resisted the urge to simply lean forward and touch them with his own, for something in the back of his mind told him that maybe that wasn't the best idea now, of all times. She was speaking, anyway. For a split second, Mason assumed he was imagining things. Because there was no way in hell Mallory Torres, the same Mallory Torres that had stormed into his house uninvited to yell at him, the same Mallory that had minutes before been fighting back tears on his bed, the Mallory that had not so long ago stormed out on him at a restaurant was this girl standing before him now. Not that he was complaining, really. In fact, he hardly cared where that Mallory had gone, so long as this one was just as real.

Judging by the sudden tug on his belt loops, she was.

Mason watched her, stunned beyond belief, as she backed away from him, the feel of her voice still lingering on his lips. And as she took off her shirt, for once in his life Mason Howard was rendered speechless. As much as he hated to admit it, his jaw might have even dropped slightly, the sight over her standing before him like that rendering him as weak at the knees as he'd probably ever get. And then...fuck. Mason's eyes lingered over her near-perfect frame and he felt his heart beating rapidly, far faster than it had since she'd kissed him that night he'd met her by Veronica's doing. But this was better. Much better.

Throat clearing slightly as he took several steps forward, Mason's eyes continued to dart over her as though somehow this would be the last thing he'd ever see; it was a hungry gaze, perhaps, but not piggish by any means. Mallory Torres was worth so much more than that.

"I've missed you too..."

He was on the bed, lips hovering over hers as the words left his mouth, eyes darting over her face as his fingers brushed their way softly over her cheek. Still, he smiled slightly, couldn't help but ask, "What's gotten into you?"
Not that he minded. Really.

[MALLORY TORRES]

Mallory faought for her body back, but Dorothy seemed to have locked the door and tossed the key. She was much stronger since Mallory had voluntarily given up control. She watched as the events unfolded, but was powerless to stop them, even when her body craved it. She experienced every sensation, but it felt like a memory. As if she was recalling the events that were happening now. It was weird, but she couldn't regain a foothold on her body... not yet at least.

Dorothy had her own deeds to commit before she lost her power. She'd cut as many ties as she possibly could and the first thread that needed to be snipped was... Mason Howard. Mallory's lover. The only guy holding her back from being happy. Dorothy would have her way... since she never had the chance to get intimate with a guy before, so Mason was the best option. Easiest target. Dorothy smiled at Mason's expression towards her actions. She slid down so that her back was in the comforter. His bed was comfortable, even if it was smaller than Mallory. The deep smell that invaded her nostrils and left her feeling lightweight was Mason's natural scent. She turning her face and stretched out as she sighed heavily.

While Dorothy was relishing the moment, Mallory was trying over and over to get a grasp on her body, but to no avail. She was forced to watch as Mason climbed onto the bed after admitting that he missed her too. Was it true, or was just the physicality between the two that he missed? She wanted to ask, but Dorothy held her own agenda. Mallory was too stubborn to just watch the events unfold with out her acting out, so she figuratively clawed at the mental block that Dorothy put up when she took control. She'd break free sooner than anticipated, but not soon enough to stop Dorothy. And they both knew that small fact.

Dorothy slid the back of her hands along his torso, then held his face in them. He looked so sweet that Dorothy felt a gang of regret hit her, which allowed a small crack in the mental wall that Mallory was still working to smash down. Dorothy felt his warm fingertips trace down her cheek, which caused her to attempt a coy smile. She leaned into his hand and took in his question completely before giving an answer, "I don't want to be alone, Mason. That's all I am now. I am nothing since high school ended and my parents still don't give me the satisfaction of a hug or smile... " She let the words linger a bit as she pulled Mason into her.

The kiss was hungry and rough. Dorothy ran her fingers through his hair and tugged a bit as she playfully nibbled his bottom lip. She kissed him full on the lips one more time before releasing him and allowing herself to fall into his bed. "...I can't picture anyone else to enjoy my company as much as you do.. well, did. You know, once upon a time." She let the the small pout form as he large brown eyes focused on his.

[MASON HOWARD]

Whatever it was that’d made her mood swing like this, Mason certainly didn’t mind. Mostly. There was a part of him that cringed, very deep in the pit of his stomach, and told him this was wrong. This wasn’t her. At least, not the Mallory he remembered, and certainly not the Mallory he’d been speaking to just thirty seconds earlier. There was another part of him, however, that just so happened to be much bigger and stronger, which told him that this Mallory would do just fine, thank you very much, and it didn’t so much matter what she felt or why she’d changed, so long as she had and he got to pretend for a bit longer. Right?

Not that now was any time to be confused. She was here, now, and different. In a very good way.

Mason smiled as she cupped his face in her hands, unable to help but glance downwards once more before meeting her eyes again. Jesus, she’d grown up. Not that she hadn’t been the prettiest—no, hottest. Mason didn’t call girls “pretty” in his head—girl in all of high school back when he’d last seen her like this, but still. This was different. Much different.

Before he had time to answer (which was good, as he hadn’t thought of anything worth saying), Mason found his lips on hers, hungry and deep. Although the roughness of it surprised him, he certainly didn’t object; he could feel his skin tingling where she’d run her hands up his back mere seconds before, as though some sort of currant ran deep through him. He’d take this over that whore any day. Over Jeny, even, and she wasn’t half bad. Not that his mind was wandering.

He watched her with sharp, almost hungry eyes as she released him, a smile that was perhaps a bit more genuine than his typical smirk spreading over his lips. “Well, you know…” he shifted so as to hold himself over her, eyes flickering over her face, that pathetic little pout—God, she was gorgeous. How come he’d never noticed before? “I still enjoy your company. Or I could, if you think you’d still enjoy mine.”

Never admitted it, more like.


ooc: Erm....sorry this sucks balls. O.o

[MALLORY TORRES]

Mallory felt Dorothy slowly loosing her full strength, but the grip she held was putting up quite the resistance. By the time Mallory would gain control she'd be mentally exhausted and most likely end up blacking out and sleeping for a long period of time. No matter though. She knew that she needed to take her body back before anything serious happened. Mostly because she was jealous that Mason was looking at Dorothy and not technically her.

Mason's smile melted her heart and caused her to blush a bit. He looked over her body, yet ended up looking back into her eyes. It made her feel tingly and warm, knowing that he found her physique desirable still. She easily had other males, but Mason had been Mallory's first so there was still that feeling of awkwardness as Dorothy allowed him to look at her in this way again. Then Dorothy kissed him. The kiss was hungry and rough and Mason wasn't hesitant to return the kiss. Apparently he missed this as well, which was good. It wouldn't take much persuading and egging to get him to give her everything that she wanted.

The look in his eyes was fair warning that he was ready to take her completely, yet Dorothy still spoke. It must have been her nerves getting to her, but she couldn't find the courage to close the gap. She couldn't get her body to preform the actions that would cause her and Mason to be under the sheets. His words pulled her back to the now and caused Mallory to fight even harder. She was so close... Only a few more minutes. Dorothy nodded sly as she pulled herself into a kiss. It was much more delicate and sweet. She had lost her motives to have her way with Mason after his words.

Mallory felt the mental lock release was she felt Mason's lips on hers. She closed her eyes and arced her back so that their chests were touching. She opened her lips a bit and took in Mason's breath. It was minty and refreshing. She held the kiss for a moment longer before allowing herself to fall back on the bed. Her eyes were wide as if shocked at her own actions and brimming with tears. "I don't want just sex anymore Mason. If that's all you want... then let me leave." Her voice was stern, yet almost a whisper. Internally, she prayed that he would ask her to stay.