allgotrabies | IC CONTACT

"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.

"Yes. Of course," sitting up a little again. "I'm sorry."

It isn't the panicked apology of someone who's afraid of some kind of blow coming her way, though. She is just genuinely sorry. "Do you want me to say something else? A different name? Or no name? I don't usually say anything, it was just...intense." So intensely good she still can't quite believe it.

His smile is easy, and Sweeney lifts his hand to cradle her head that he might run his thumb over her cheekbone. He shakes his head gently and tries to urge her back down to his chest.

"Nothin' ta be sorry fer. An' I don't have a good name ta give ya," he offers with the faint air of apology. "It's just..." Sweeney takes a breath, trying to figure out how to explain it.

"B'fore I was a Leprechaun--b'fore I was a few things, I was Suibhne." He rolls his eyes at the ceiling. "Remember me sayin' the worst things I done was as a king?" His lips tighten for a moment.

"That was when I was him."

He rubs his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "The fuckin' English just couldn't pronounce it, so I was left with this one."

She settles her head on his chest, in the center where she can hear his voice as it rumbles gently against her cheek.

"Usually when someone joins a Pack they pick a new name. I never did, because I didn't feel like a different enough person. And I wasn't running from anything like Palo was. I'd already run away from everything before he found me." Her fingers rub slow circles along his ribs. "Names mean things. Humans don't always get how much they can mean. I don't want to call you anything that only reminds you of things you regret."

Nothing that carries both his worst mistakes and the bastardization of it the English left him with. But on the other hand, knowing more about him now, giving him a new name--even in jest--seems just as cruel.

There's genuine comfort in her understanding. Humans don't understand and it's fucking terrible. They're so flippant about everything.

Sweeney nuzzles against her hair.

"Guess I'll just need a new one fer ya ta call me." A wicked smrik is cast down at her. "Just pick something short an' easy ta remember. 'Cause I don't hate the thought of you gettin' so riled ya gotta use it."

"It needs to be Irish." She knows English and Spanish names, so it'll take some research. "And, y'know, I'll probably need to test some out. See how they sound when you're so deep inside of me I can't even think straight. It's gotta have the right sound."

She kisses his collarbone. "Thank you. For telling me."

He inhales, pressing his chest more firmly to her lips when she kisses him.

"Thank ya fer listenin'." There's that word. Finally managed it. It carries the weight of 'listening without taking it as poorly as you might have'.

Sweeney runs his tongue along his teeth, returning to his previous cheekiness.

"Should definitely get the chance ta try a few on fer size." He brings his hand up to trace her lip with his thumb.

"Don't mind English though." He presses softly, urging the tip of his thumb past them, nudging at her teeth to part them suggestively.

"Irish can be hard on the tongue."

Edited (Spelling correction) 2021-12-21 04:47 (UTC)

She gently bites his thumb, rubbing the tip of her tongue against the pad before she sits up to kiss him. "My tongue likes a good challenge." A pause. "I am seriously going to need you to show me how to say them though. I, uhm, I tried to read some Irish stories and I couldn't figure out how to say half the places' names."

Sweeney meets her kiss readily, then chuckles at her request. He tilts his head, pressing it more firmly into the grass as he regards her.

"Just the place names that are givin' ya trouble? Sounds like yer three steps ahead," he teases good-naturedly.

"You know me, fast learner," she laughs, a bit self-deprecating but she has worked harder this last year than perhaps ever in her life. She's slower to resent herself for needing more time to read.

In her search for different places to take him, Irish landmarks popped up over and over. It turns out there's even a small surfing community there, though she isn't sure she'd want to be in water that cold.

Which makes her think of their next adventure and the water they'll be in and she grins. "We're gonna have so much fun this year, you don't even know."

He can't resist a chuckle and a noncommittal nip in her direction.

"Aye. Tá tú i dtrioblóid," he assures her with a smirk. Because she is. Of the best kind.

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.

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