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.
"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."
"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.
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.
"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.
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."
"We'll celebrate you being all healed up. I'll come up with something exciting." She's watching him, albeit with a lazy smile, eyes half closed in pleasure. She's the one who tends to bring in new elements, he's easier to please, but she has plenty of ideas she's sure he'll appreciate.
"Oh, of that I've got no doubt, Trouble that ya are." His lashes flutter as his eyes slip skyward. Sweeney's focus returns to her, brow playfully lifted.
"You gonna let me get fixed all the way up first? Or is it one of those 'good 'nough is good 'nough' type things?"
She turns her head to nip his hip. "Not tedious. I never get sick of you." Another nip, soothed by a kiss. "If the lech thing means you think things about me that're half as dirty as what I think about you though, I'm not complaining."
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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.
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"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.
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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.
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"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.
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"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.
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"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.
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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.
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"Let's just say you could get me to do a whole lot of new things."
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"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.
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"Enjoyed that well 'nough then?"
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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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"You gonna let me get fixed all the way up first? Or is it one of those 'good 'nough is good 'nough' type things?"
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"No, I really am gonna wait till you're better. Can't put me up against a door or a shower wall if you're in stitches."
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"Well, it inn't that I can't. Just probably shouldn't." Sweeney's lips press briefly, but it doesn't lessen his grin.
"Tiff already had an eyeful of your handiwork. Doubt she wants ta deal with me constantly comin' in 'cause I can't keep from shovin' my prick in ya."
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"You having as hard a time keeping your hands off me as I have letting my hands off you makes me pretty happy though. In case you didn't know."
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Sweeney pulls a slow drag, holding it as he speaks. "Good ta hear it dunn't just mean I'm a tedious lech."
He releases his breath, letting the smoke drift between them.
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