"How would I get you over enough," a soft sound of mingled pleasure and frustration as she thinks she can almost get his finger to slip inside her. "Maybe I'd have to fuck you on the floor, on the chair, keep some of you around between us getting my bed all- Mmfuck you're driving me crazy." She loves it.
"You wanna fuck me in my shower?" Her heel hooks behind his thigh, trying to anchor herself so she can wriggle her hips. "You can't bring your boots in there. We'd have to be careful."
Sweeney rocks a touch as a byproduct of moving; his other hand lifts from the door and catches her by the throat, urging her back against the wood. He doesn't squeeze, but his thumb hooks roughly under her jaw and forces it up.
"Like fuck, I can't. I'll bring them where'er the fuck I like." It's firm but also hungry. He delights in the idea of his boots clacking in Godric's shower.
She licks her lips, which in a human shows nervousness but in a wolf shows submission. She is not nervous. "You just want me on my knees cleaning the tile," she smirks.
"Well," a soft, dramatic sigh. "I guess if it comes down to a clean bathroom or you fucking me until I'm hoarse, I can live with dirty tiles." One more helpless shift of her hips. "Dammit." She gives him a lingering, come-touch-me sort of smile. "Ba mhaith liom tú."
His eyes study her face, as if examining how best to use it. "An' I you."
Suddenly, both of his hands draw back. "But we both know where that's goin'. An' I'm s'pposed ta be walkin' ya home an' gettin' healed up." As much as he loathes the waiting.
She laughs; no, she's not innocent, not with him. Even though when she takes his arm it speaks to something in her she never got to explore, something that deeply enjoys this small kindness.
"I like that with you I can feel like a queen and like the dirtiest byrd you know." She enjoys being both.
"And fucked all over the place." She still likes that every time she steps into the elevator she thinks about her legs locked around his waist. "I'm just lucky I got someone who'll let me do what I want."
"Well then you'll get to see me be patient and good-mannered." She likes that he indulges her but she likes the thought of not getting everything easily, of having to work for it or even to not have it at all. What she likes is the thought that he's comfortable enough with her to say 'no' and not have it be any sort of issue between them.
Sweeney chuckles. "Seen ya patient 'nough," he recognizes. "Now...good-mannered?" That has yet to be seen. Still, it's an interesting proposition, and one he looks forward to testing out.
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"Just know yer likely ta do laundry 'nough that it'd be a fulltime job keepin' my scent in yer bed."
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"Careful. Gettin' ta too much wantin', we might run outta places in there. Won't be able ta keep ta yer room."
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"I think ya mentioned somethin' 'bout yer shower." She absolutely mentioned something about her shower. He thinks about it all the time.
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"Like fuck, I can't. I'll bring them where'er the fuck I like." It's firm but also hungry. He delights in the idea of his boots clacking in Godric's shower.
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"Well," he considers unnecessarily. "Sight like that, might not be able ta keep my hands ta myself." Or the rest of me.
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Suddenly, both of his hands draw back. "But we both know where that's goin'. An' I'm s'pposed ta be walkin' ya home an' gettin' healed up." As much as he loathes the waiting.
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"Is maith liom go mór thú. Even when you're torturing me with those hands." She straightens. Ready to go, if he is.
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Sweeney pulls her away from the door enough to get the pair of them out of it, and it takes him a few steps before he offers her his arm.
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"I like that with you I can feel like a queen and like the dirtiest byrd you know." She enjoys being both.
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"Ya get ta do whate'er the fuck ya want, e'en if that's seein' yerself fucked 'til ha can't walk."
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"I'm not always one ta behave."
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