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."
"Oh! You say that but I remember how you were the one time I wore sweatpants and you couldn't get your hand between my legs." She trails her hand down her stomach.
"You know what I like," she all but purrs with approval for the idea. Their fucking is always rough, and the idea of adding a little more spice to it is enticing. He doesn't treat her as if she's breakable, and she doesn't have to pretend she's afraid to get messy.
Again she thinks of her big bed, how soft it is and how delicious the juxtaposition of it and Sweeney's rough touches would be. She won't press, but it's a longing.
And she certainly doesn't mind it happening in her cabin, on the grass, amid her beloved flowers. (She's named each of the potted plants.)
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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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"I dunno..." Sweeney pulls the word out with a smirk and quick eye roll. "Yer pretty dirty. Don't know if I can match yer halfway," he teases.
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"Maybe I just need to rub off on you."
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"That so?" Sweeney's free hand slips lightly down the center of her chest, slowing its way as it dips just past her navel.
"Pretty sure I could've," he notes cheekily. He pulls slowly on the cigarette, his eyes not leaving hers.
"Pretty sure I can get my hands anywhere on you I want." There's the faintest hint of suggestive warning.
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"What I'm wantin'...it should wait 'til I'm back ta fightin' form."
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"How ya feel 'bout wrestlin'?" His brow lifts with cheeky suggestion.
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"I thought ya might fancy me rippin' them off ya." His grin goes wide as he looks back down to her.
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Again she thinks of her big bed, how soft it is and how delicious the juxtaposition of it and Sweeney's rough touches would be. She won't press, but it's a longing.
And she certainly doesn't mind it happening in her cabin, on the grass, amid her beloved flowers. (She's named each of the potted plants.)
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