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She's learned to pick up context in languages she doesn't know, so she has no idea what he said but knows that she really likes the way he said it. His accent alone is enough to draw her in, but she's never heard him speak in his own native tongue before.
"Anytime you want me to drag you into an empty cabin to have me, that's all you have to say," she purrs, and one might think she's kidding but one would be wrong.
He could get her to do a lot of things, talking like that.
"Anytime you want me to drag you into an empty cabin to have me, that's all you have to say," she purrs, and one might think she's kidding but one would be wrong.
He could get her to do a lot of things, talking like that.
Sweeney's grin spreads wolfishly. He doesn't hate that she's so easy to please.
"What? Ya don't like this one?" He rolls his eyes playfully, looking around at the grass. "Yer only provin' my case."
He isn't even sure how that would work, if folk are able to get in empty cabins. Sure, supplies had been stored there, but that was with more blessing than pure want.
Glancing down at her, his brow lifts as his tone sobers a little.
"It's gonna need some lamps if ya wanna keep it." Meaning the grass. "Likely gonna need a Warden ta get 'em fer ya." A smirk settles back in.
"I'm the first actual Inmate mine's had, an' I ain't gonna start him off with 'I need some lights so the grass I'm lookin' ta fuck on dunn't die'."
"What? Ya don't like this one?" He rolls his eyes playfully, looking around at the grass. "Yer only provin' my case."
He isn't even sure how that would work, if folk are able to get in empty cabins. Sure, supplies had been stored there, but that was with more blessing than pure want.
Glancing down at her, his brow lifts as his tone sobers a little.
"It's gonna need some lamps if ya wanna keep it." Meaning the grass. "Likely gonna need a Warden ta get 'em fer ya." A smirk settles back in.
"I'm the first actual Inmate mine's had, an' I ain't gonna start him off with 'I need some lights so the grass I'm lookin' ta fuck on dunn't die'."
Edited (Additional text) 2021-12-21 07:49 (UTC)
She laughs. "No you gotta ease him into life here. Don't worry, I can find a lamp or two." She intends on keeping this all alive as long as she possibly can. She's never taken care of plants before but grass is resilient and flowers need water and light, and she can provide both.
Annie turns toward him a little more, mischief at the corners of her smile. "Tell me more Irish words."
Annie turns toward him a little more, mischief at the corners of her smile. "Tell me more Irish words."
He chuckles richly as he curls his arm around her and traces the curve of her ear.
"Is fearr Gaeilge briste, na Bearla cliste," he purrs, mischievously amused.
"What word would ya like ta know? Other than trioblóid." Sweeney taps her chest once.
"That's you, Trouble." Which one might be able to deduce, given it being pronounced trab-bloid.
"Is fearr Gaeilge briste, na Bearla cliste," he purrs, mischievously amused.
"What word would ya like ta know? Other than trioblóid." Sweeney taps her chest once.
"That's you, Trouble." Which one might be able to deduce, given it being pronounced trab-bloid.
Edited (Spelling correction) 2021-12-21 18:04 (UTC)
She is easy to please, but few things please her more than having her new nickname.
"What did you say?" Running the sounds in her mind, mouthing them subconsciously to herself. "Na Bearla cliste."
"What did you say?" Running the sounds in her mind, mouthing them subconsciously to herself. "Na Bearla cliste."
Sweeney looks down at her with a conspiratorial raise of his eyebrow.
"Broken Irish is better than clever English."
"Broken Irish is better than clever English."
"You should teach me some, then. Because I don't even have clever English going for me." She smiles at him, touches the pad of one finger against the split in his lip as she thinks. "Please?"
There's a sharp intake of air when she touches he split, but he parts his lips further to suck on her fingertip.
"Sounds like just the thing then. Ya gotta plenty room ta fill with new words." He tips his head in agreement, but does add an amendment.
"It's gotta a bunch'a different sounds an' the letters don't read the same as English. Phrasin' can be odd." He raises his brow with empathy. "Likely ta be hard." A smile peeks.
"But I know ya can do it. If ya want."
"Sounds like just the thing then. Ya gotta plenty room ta fill with new words." He tips his head in agreement, but does add an amendment.
"It's gotta a bunch'a different sounds an' the letters don't read the same as English. Phrasin' can be odd." He raises his brow with empathy. "Likely ta be hard." A smile peeks.
"But I know ya can do it. If ya want."
"Reading'll probably be the hardest part. Like, I'm afraid to even try to say some of the places I saw in the book," grimacing. "But I do pretty okay when I can hear things. Give me something to say, I'll give it a try."
"We can just do the talkin' bit if it's better," Sweeney assures her, then reflects on a suggestion. He chuckles at himself.
"Perhaps somethin' fer Dorian, but I suspect ya might need it more than that: 'Is minic a bhris béal duine a shrón'."
He smiles deviously. "It means 'It’s often a person’s mouth broke his nose'."
"Perhaps somethin' fer Dorian, but I suspect ya might need it more than that: 'Is minic a bhris béal duine a shrón'."
He smiles deviously. "It means 'It’s often a person’s mouth broke his nose'."
"Oho, I like," she purrs, and straddles him. It's to better listen, of course, why would anyone think otherwise?
"Is minic a...bhris..." Her accent is still definitely American, and she winces by way of asking him to repeat it for her.
"Is minic a...bhris..." Her accent is still definitely American, and she winces by way of asking him to repeat it for her.
Sweeney squirms a bit beneath her, dubious of her motivations. He's still a bit off in his recovery after that last bout.
"'Is minic a bhris béal duine a shrón'," he clarifies slowly.
"We can do somethin' shorter ta start, if ya like. Might be easier."
"'Is minic a bhris béal duine a shrón'," he clarifies slowly.
"We can do somethin' shorter ta start, if ya like. Might be easier."
"No no, I can get it." A wicked grin. "I like that this is the first thing I learned to say in Irish. Okay, is minic a bhris...béal duine a shrón." She says it slowly, focusing on getting the sounds in their right places.
"Mmm." The wickedness in his eyes speak to his pleasure in hearing it on her lips.
"Would ya indulge me another? It's shorter an' sharper, I promise. Sweeney minimizes his grin, speaking slowly for her to take it in. "Go hifreann leat."
"Would ya indulge me another? It's shorter an' sharper, I promise. Sweeney minimizes his grin, speaking slowly for her to take it in. "Go hifreann leat."
"Go hifreann leat." Still with an accent but she mimics him better with this one. "What'd I just say?"
Sweeney bends to kiss her sweetly on the head before whispering against her hair.
"Go ta Hell."
He gives her a quick nuzzle. "Feel that one should get some use too."
"Go ta Hell."
He gives her a quick nuzzle. "Feel that one should get some use too."
She says it again, those time with the right attitude it deserves, and grins at him for approval. "You're setting me up to be a badass, I see how it is."
He leans back enough to look down at her suggestively.
"Ya rather I be takin' a different direction fer ya?" He twists around her so he can whisper hotly in her ear.
"Ba mhaith liom tú anseo anois." Sweeney drops his face to lickthe tip of his tongue over her Mark.
"I want you here, now."
"Ya rather I be takin' a different direction fer ya?" He twists around her so he can whisper hotly in her ear.
"Ba mhaith liom tú anseo anois." Sweeney drops his face to lickthe tip of his tongue over her Mark.
"I want you here, now."
It's sensitive now that the bruising is settling in, and that welt hurts in a way that makes her moan softly, makes her smile turn hungry.
"I need you to say that one again," sliding her leg up his, because her request has nothing to do with needing to hear it to mimic it.
"I need you to say that one again," sliding her leg up his, because her request has nothing to do with needing to hear it to mimic it.
"Ba mhaith liom tú anseo anois," he whispers, dropping his voice as his smile widens.
"Inis dom cad ba mhaith leat." His gaze slides down her. "Tell me what you want."
"Inis dom cad ba mhaith leat." His gaze slides down her. "Tell me what you want."
"Slow. So you can tell me more Irish things, until you have to take me harder," which likely won't take long knowing her and how eager she always is for fast, hard, hungry.
"Well, then." He leans back, his brow lifted but his voice still low.
"In that case, is there somethin' ya'd like me ta talk 'bout in the meantime?" He is very open to ideas.
"In that case, is there somethin' ya'd like me ta talk 'bout in the meantime?" He is very open to ideas.
He could say anything in that tone and it would have her writhing once he starts, but she is serious about wanting to learn so she wants to hear real phrases.
"Teach me how to say 'please'."
"Teach me how to say 'please'."
Sweeney's lips press for a moment, his eyes lowering.
"Le do thoil."
He leans back in to whisper it hotly against her ear.
"Le do thoil."
"Le do thoil."
He leans back in to whisper it hotly against her ear.
"Le do thoil."
"Le do thoil," she whispers back, using her legs to pull him closer. "Someday when we fuck I'm only going to speak Irish. What do you think?"
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