allgotrabies | IC CONTACT

He gives her leg a brisk rub with his free hand, taking a slow drag with the other.

"Don't fret, Trouble. Ya still gonna have plenty'a opportunities ta fix me up." Sweeney peeks back at her.

"Might wanna put a kit next door." His expression holds tired playfulness, but the sentiment is honest.

"Yeah but I don't want you getting hurt." As much as she enjoys teasing at the sexy nurse trope, she actually takes medicine very seriously--and even more serious is making sure her packmates don't need medical attention. "Unless it's the kind of hurt you like."

Sweeney's brow arches suggestively.

"Pretty sure it's worth tuckin' one away o'er there," he notes more encouragingly. "Just 'cause I ain't lookin' ta, dunn't mean I'm not gonna find myself needin' one." He gives her leg a good pinch.

"'specially when I'm doin' stuff I like."

"Well. In that case," laying her head on his knee. "I'm excited to patch you up sometime. I think I'm pretty fast at it now."

She studies it daily. Between that and learning Gaelic, she's spending more time in books and listening to audio files than she ever thought she would. "You can tell me how my bedside manner is."

He peeks down at her with a slow drag. Sweeney's careful to tap his ash away from her as he exhales.

"Ya lookin' fer more time on one then? Fewer walls an' less grass?" And elevators and showers. His eyebrow arches cheekily.

"Oh I am not picky at all. I want you here and there and," a wave with her cigarette. "Anywhere you'll have me. But...I do like going in the elevator and remembering how hard you fucked me. I was in it a couple days ago with Godric, pretty sure my face was red the whole time."

She knows Godric can hear her heart beating so she'd breathed slow, kept it as steady as she could, and figured he probably assumed she was nervous because they were going up to the Deck.

"I wish I could take you to my bed though. It's big. It's mine."

There it is again. That temptation. The one that wants to fuck her hard against the door while Godric wakes and gets ready for his night. The one that wants to leave as much of his scent on her and in her as he's able so he can walk her home with her hand crooked neatly in his elbow. That's having his cake and eating it too.

But can he make peace with Godric enough to have it? And in the moment, it clicks. Fucking aside, if they were on the same page, they could both support Annie more effectively. And he can keep that knife in his hand the whole time. So unless Godric's a liar, there's enough to work with.

Hmm.

"That yer hammock?" he asks with a lick of his lip.

Unbeknownst to him she's thinking the same thing. Not because of Godric, but because it's as close to her den as she can get Sweeney. "Yeah. The hammock's mine, and most of the blankets."

She imagines lying there in the hammock with Sweeney, lazing about, smoking and watching some mindless procedural crime show until she tugs him away to her bedroom where he fucks her till she's crying out his name.

He assumes she means 'bed' equals 'hammock' in that case, and both brows lift.

"That ya were worried 'bout the physics of that one." Enough to dream about it, anyways. It's not like he thinks the task would be simple, doubly for the vigorous nature of their fucking.

"Oh, no, knowing us we'd break the poor thing. Hammock's for relaxing. My bedroom's where I'd want you to tear me out of my clothes again." She motions at the empty second bed. "It's like two and a half of these together, a little bigger. And I have a hundred pillows because I like feeling-" like there are warm bodies around her, protecting her. "-uh, comfy. Silk sheets."

His lips thin for a fleeting moment when she gestures to the other bed, but it's gone as quickly as it's come.

Sweeney's in no way surprised that she is one with a lot of pillows. She doesn't like being alone. Sometimes one works with what they have. It's probably similar to the reason he sleeps on the floor. It's familiar. Safer.

He offers a small chuckle. "Didn't f'gure ya fer one that keeps dressed in yer cabin," he observes with a mischievous smirk. "Ya gonna put stuff on just fer me ta rip it up?" He doesn't hate the idea, by any means.

She bites her lower lip. "Yeah..." Her toes flex and curl. "You tearing me out of that black skin still gets me. And I don't hate getting dolled up for you." She likes going in with perfect hair, clean makeup, and him leaving her bruised and mussed and sated.

He's smile grows wider and devious. Sweeney can't help himself, not with the thoughts she's planting. He cups her cheek and traces his thumb feather-light across her lips.

"That mean yer plannin' some lipstick fer next time ya do?" He takes a moment to press it between her lips suggestively, nudging against her teeth, requesting they part for him in promise of later indulgence.

She ghosts her lips over him, flicks the tip of her tongue against the pad of his thumb, holding his gaze as she does. "Red or pink?"

His lashes flutter faintly at the feel of her tongue against him, an echo of a far too recent sensation elsewhere.

"Red." That one's easy.

Something occurs to Sweeney, and he makes an amendment. "'nless 'dolled up' counts fer sundresses." He always thinks it means something posh.

"Sundresses are everyday. I'd want something prettier for you to help me wreck." She brings his hand down along her side. "Maybe even one of those corset things."

Sweeney's brow lifts high. Interesting.

"Don't know if I can rip one off properly," he admits. "Those things don't fuck 'round. That said, I certainly wouldn't mind fuckin' ya in one." That's putting it lightly. It's obvious in his expression.

"An' I'm happy ta race the unlacin'." He's wary about cutting it off, given his general incapacity for self-control.

"Corset it is," she can't not with the way he reacted. "And if you can't get it all the way off, well, y'know I like being fucked in my clothes, too."

His eyes narrow a touch. "Huh, ya had me thinkin' that was a bit of an annoyance." His brow bounces salaciously.

Much like fucking in public, he's starting to get the feeling she hasn't been completely forthcoming, or she's been changing her mind with him. He hopes it's the latter. That's far more delicious.

It is very much the latter. Sex was always safe with her packmates, and always risky with humans. He's proved over and over again that he isn't out to abuse or humiliate her, and gradually she's come to find excitement in exploring things she wouldn't have touched a year ago.

"Let's just say you could get me to do a whole lot of new things."

"Oh really?" Sweeney leans closer, but the position forces him to stay a good distance from her.

"Anythin' I should be aimin' ta nudge ya toward?" He rolls his hips against her just a touch, enough to make a wanton point. "Wouldn't want things ta get too borin'."

He's well aware that she's already far more diverse in her desires than he is.

"Well," she stretches, tipping her head back to expose her neck. "It's been a while since you choked me."

"You dirty byrd," he muses with a deviously approving grin. He takes the opportunity she offers to slide his hand down her throat, fitting it nicely without squeezing.

"Enjoyed that well 'nough then?"

"I like it when you pin me, too." Her smile is impish, and she raises her head just an inch into his hand.

Trixy minx.

His dimples cut deep, and his grip firms. Not to cut off her air, but certainly enough to give the illusion of helping support her weight. He slides his tongue slowly over his teeth. Sweeney's gaze wanders down her and back up, his eyes remaining unblinking.

"Sounds like I should get ta mendin' up in short order. Get on what I should be gettin' on."

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