allgotrabies | IC CONTACT

That sweet yelp and gifted compliance makes him smile against her skin. Three more bites follow, from just above her knee to her midthigh. All are hard with the promise of deep coloring.

Sweeney draws his tongue in a line up them, then higher still. But before he runs out of leg, he abandons her skin and eases his fingers, allowing her full range of motion without removing his hand from her hair.

He rises above her, but doesn't hurry back in her, just taking a moment to smile down at her wickedly and lick his lips.

"Somethin' like that."

She sits up to kiss him, biting his lower lip hard, pulling him to lay back with her. "Fuck me," she breathes against his mouth. "Right now."

She had wanted him a few minutes ago as she teased him, but now she needs him in a wild, singularly focused way. "Hard, please, Sweeney-"

Sweeney smiles at the pain in his lip, content to follow her back down.

At her pleading, he shoves the name back in her mouth with his kiss, promptly followed by the rest of him all too eagerly getting to shoving of its own.

The experience is oddly different facing down the slope instead of up it, and while it may a trick of the mind, it feels like every thrust finds its way deeper. The act catches the frenzy she's begged for, and between his grunts and winces and the clenching of his jaw, his mouth never strays too far. Her neck, shoulders, and chest all bear the brutality of his teeth, and the hand in her hair presses into the grass, pinning her head in place.

She's gasping out soft sounds, and none of it is contrived; she'd struggle to be silent even if he asked. She only falls quiet as release builds in her, all her senses narrowing until all she's aware of is the steady rhythm of his hips and how greedily she wants him.

"Fuck," which comes as a drawn out whisper against his ear as she comes for the second time in a night. Or if you want to be very technical, the second time in what is already a very promising new year.

The word evokes a low sound, somewhere between a purr and a chuckle. Sweeney doesn't slow, but he presses a kiss against the Mark as he savors the ripples in the wake.

When he's sure she's good and done, he draws back and up enough to grab her by the shoulder and push, urging her eagerly onto her belly. She barely has time to savor the grass on her skin before he yanks her hips up roughly to claim her again.

Falling back into his pace, he curls to lick a line up her back that finishes on the dark welt below her ear. Sweeney doesn't stray far in the moment, panting and moaning against her neck.

She hooks her toes behind his knees, helping to anchor her hips for him, all of her so sensitive to him she's just shy of overstimulation. She's getting all those grass stains she'd wished for, has them already on her elbow and might even on her back after how he'd fucked her downhill.

"Fuck," she cries again, laughing breathlessly.

The feel of her feet securing him forces a wicked grin, and he sets to marking up her back. He doesn't get as far as he'd hoped before his body's had enough. His cry is sharp against her skin, and his fingers claw at her hips, fighting for every last fraction of an inch he can find.

Sweeney feels the need to catch her in the fallout, not wanting to push her forward with all his trembling and spasms. Renewing his grip more forward, his palms over her hip bones, he rest back, towards his heels but not on them so he can keep their bodies from uncoupling. Wrapped over her, he nuzzles tiredly as he fights to steady himself and pull fresh air back into his lungs.

The feel of his beard brushing her skin is somehow the thing that tips this from ecstatically good to ecstatically good with a solid, steady safeness underneath. She kisses his temple and can't speak for how out of breath she still is.

This position needs to be in their repertoire more, she decides. The presence of him over her is exactly what she needed.

When he's able to get his breath under control and his knees to stop shaking, Sweeney pulls back with a wince, and sits all the way back on his heels. He allows himself a deep breath, then bends to place a soft kiss between the dimples of her back.

Swallowing, he pushes backwards so he can lay on the grass with his head on the upward slope while he continues to recover. Without active thought, he pulls the cigarette from behind his ear and struggles to dig for his lighter. Managing to light the damn thing, he takes a deep drag, resting a moment before offering it to her without bothering to look up.

She knows of all her pack he's the least amenable to cuddling but she ends up sprawled beside him, her leg over one of his, all the same. She takes a long drag and hums in pleasure.

"Look," her voice husky and happy. She lifts her foot to show him the bruise that's already darkening just above her knee.

As soon as she takes the cigarette, he sets to lighting another. He savors the inhale, no protest made about her lounging contact. At her display, he lifts his head to check out his work.

He chuckles and rests back, taking another drag. "Know I'm late, but I get ya what ya want fer Christmas?" he jokes. She'll color well, and thigh bites have some of the longest recovery times.

"And then some." She chuckles and kisses his shoulder, licks his neck for good measure and because he smells so damn good.

"That reminds me." She rests her chin on his chest. "Am I allowed to give you a present?"

Sweeney turns his head to her, everything about him sated. When she rests up on his chest, he shifts his arm behind her to support her against him.

"Ya gonna try ta tell me that don't count?"

Because it sure as fuck does. His mind is quiet, or something like it, settled in the calm of the grass and the fulfillment and satisfaction that they both got what they needed, just being themselves.

She could glow with that sort of praise. She's never seen him quite this peaceful and knowing she helped bring him to it is more gift to her.

"I made you something, too. I mean I made it while I was thinking about you, but I didn't know if I'm allowed to... Well anyway. It's just a charm."

"Mmm," he purrs with a low hum as he pulls a drag, lifting his head on the inhale, but turning back to her to let the tendrils drift between them.

"Love charms." Sweeney's smile is lazy and supportive. He is a Leprechaun, after all. One that's a bit too relaxed to be overthinking the complications of gift-giving.

She has it with her, had it attached to the front of her dress where it dipped between her breasts. She'll get it later. She would need an act of God to be able to move away right now.

"I like seeing you like this," smiling, trying to blow a smoke ring but she'd have to move to really be able to pull it off.

"I like bein' like this," he confesses with a softening of his voice and his eyes. Sweeney presses his cigarette between his lips long enough to tuck her hair behind her ear before he takes it back between his fingers.

"Yer the best kinda Trouble ta get into." He grins unapologetically.

"Anytime you need a little excitement," she promises, thoroughly enjoying her new nickname. She takes a deep drag and sits up, holding a finger to his lips. "Okay wait right there. Just, just like that."

She grins and grabs the charm off the remains of her dress, then lays back down on him. The charm is small, about the size of her fingernail, shaped like a small horse. It was this or a bell, and putting a bell on someone feels vaguely like calling them a cat. She wouldn't do that to someone she likes.

"Okay and, when you touch it like this," between thumb and forefinger, a faint smell of midnight rain on grass. She glances at him, nerves getting the better of her.

He seems surprised by her sudden absence, but he pushes up on his elbow to he watch her scamper to retrieve it.

Sweeney extends his hand for her to deposit it instead of taking it directly, but it's more out of muscle memory than intent. He rolls it in his hand while he examines it, then rubs it as instructed. Bringing it to his nose, Sweeney inhales deeply, his eyes closed. The scent makes his expression ease and offer the faint hint of a smile.

He opens his eyes to find her and tips his head appreciative. "It's wonderful," he answers in utter sincerity. The words hold his unspoken thanks. He's still working on 'please' and 'thank you'. They're very counterintuitive to him, but it doesn't mean the feeling and sentiment aren't there.

It works out well since Annie isn't used to people thanking her for things. Prior to the Barge, she couldn't have said when she last heard it, aside from the perfunctory 'thanks' she'd get for holding a door for a stranger. Not that her packmates were ungrateful, because they weren't; it just never seemed like something to say out loud.

The nervous part of her wants to chatter on, fill the quiet, pull a nice clean sheepskin over herself so that if he decides he doesn't like it or doesn't want it she can laugh it off. This is the moment she realizes that sometimes, with him, it's easier to just continue being the wolf.

"I don't know what it can be used for," she admits. "I was just messin' around with stuff and I was thinking about you and this is what happened. So," a breath, a cautious smile. "Happy Yule-New-Year."

"I know 'xactly what ta use it fer," he assures her with an arched brow.

"When I'm stuck at work or somewhere I rather not be, I can sneak it an' 'magine I'm here with you instead." His gaze dips to his hand for a moment before he looks back to her.

"Glad that this it what wild magic made when ya were thinkin' of me."

He coils his hand into a soft fist around it, then blows, unfurling his fingers to reveal them empty, like he was performing a magic trick, even though she knows damn well where he's tucked it. Sweeney's eyes linger on her face with a soft smile.

She grins, reassured, and tugs him to lay down so she can rest against his chest again. "I can feel every bruise," she says dreamily. "Head to toe."

She flicks her tongue against the cut on his lip she left.

Sweeney sucks his lip in the wake of her tongue, his smile curling mischievous, even though the rest of him is so very tired. He tucks her back in the crook of his arm.

"Good ta hear. I hope ya can keep 'em fer a good while still."

Something flickers in his mind, and his eyes shift askew. Words are on his tongue, but he's wary to give them voice.

"I...there's somethin' I want ta tell ya. Somethin' I owe ta ya. But I need ya ta hear the whole bit out before ya respond, a'right?" There's a seriousness, though he remains soft.

You don't owe me anything, she wants to say, but his tone keeps her quiet. She nods, shifting a little so she can look at him more easily. "I'm listening."

He sucks his tongue for a moment, hesitation lingering.

"Tonight's been...fuckin' sublime." Sweeney's utterly sincere. "An' I'm so lookin' forward ta gettin' back in ya when I'm able." It implies a desire that he understands the need of reprieve before indulging.

"But b'fore. I told ya if there was somethin' botherin' me, that I'd be open with ya 'bout it." He kisses the top of her head.

"I...I'd rather ya not use that name. When we're fuckin'." There's no resentment or obligation in the request; it's just a simple confession. Sweeney squeezes her against him with hopes she understands that there's no problems between them.

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