She lifts her head to bite at his shoulder, biting down harder when this makes the angle change and he's suddenly, blessedly deeper. She brings one leg up, ankle on his shoulder, to tighten around him and allow him deeper still.
This still allows her to kiss him, which she does between gasps and soft cries, and lingering eye contact that makes this all so much headier.
Of course he knows how limber she is, how her build and skills would allow for such a thing. But it's very different when it's put into practice. Sweeney would say she'd been holding out on him, but in the end, maybe the universe was just saving it for tonight.
He snarls against her skin at her biting, a faint whimper on its tail, before another growl chases behind.
The sweet pain and the hot ache and the terrible burden of prolonged wanting converge in a perfect moment, and he presses a sharp cry against her skin, burying her face in the crest of his hair.
Everything twitches and trembles as he fights against collapsing completely upon her. Even so, he only manages by the prop of his elbows against the grass. He fights for breath, panting in the curve of her neck, his lips rested on her shoulder as he sucks in the scent of her hair.
She strokes the hair at the nape of his neck as she tries to catch her breath. She can feel grass under her back, there's a pleasant stretch in her calf from having her leg up on his shoulder, and she doesn't want him to go anywhere just yet.
"That was worth every time we almost and didn't," she whispers, grinning against his shoulder.
"Fuck yes." Sweeney nuzzles once against her cheek, but the rest of him hasn't figured out much moving. Everything is tensed and relaxed, vibrating as the muscles can't make up their minds as to which one.
He wants to tell her he's proud of her--of them--and he knows he will. But not right now.
Now is for the quiet and still, what they are and what they've just become. Those kinds of words would muddle it.
"Got what ya were lookin' fer?" he chuckles softly against her skin.
"Mmm," she agrees, running her fingers over the very sensitive mark on her neck.
She slides her other ankle over the back of his thigh. "This is perfect. I had no idea." Not about the surprise, but also that she was capable of stop much restraint in pursuit of something so, so good.
For the first time in years there's a belly-deep calm in her. But it doesn't mean she's done with him, or with this. "I get you for a while today, right?"
He manages to push up enough to chase her fingers over the dark skin. There's a tenderness in his soft kiss placed on it before he runs his tongue over its warmth. There's no heat to it, only pride.
"As long as ya want." This was her day--no, their day, for as long as she wishes it to be.
He smiles and finally finds the ability to lift off of her to roll onto his back beside her. "I'll try not ta take too long," he assures with just the faintest bit of jest. Sweeney's pretty confident he's saved up enough want over the last few weeks to try to keep up.
"Ya want purple down both shoulders?" he asks idly, staring at the ceiling. That's a task he's willing to take to diligently, should she wish it.
"Nothin' too high," he promises. "I'll keep it clean."
Sweeney's mind is already thinking about all the places he could get her marked up in the next go. The question catches him off-guard, and it takes him a moment to answer, his focus lingering upward.
"Tend ta prefer it that way," he admits in a strange bout of honesty. Being naked is far different than fucking naked. One is a natural thing for the activity involved, like swimming; the other is a matter of keeping some level of distance in the act.
It's why he'd never fucked her without his trousers on, even when she'd gotten them past his knees.
She watches him and she wants to ask. The distance it creates is one she's familiar with (she sold her body for drugs or a place to stay, it's not like there was any intimacy in it) but it's... Uncomfortable to think he sees her that way.
She doesn't have the nerve to ask, though. The answer is likely to be worse than just worrying silently about it.
So she finds another, more settled issue to zigzag onto instead. "I talked to Dorian."
She's been asking for things lately that she wouldn't normally, but this seems too far. It's asking him to do something only for her benefit, something he's more comfortable not doing, and while she wants it very much she gives him a quarter smile and rolls over to put her head on his chest instead.
Sweeney instinctively shifts to put his arm around her, welcoming her against him. He's quiet for a few seconds.
"They're safe." He presses his lips to her hair. "Like makin' Deals." A thought strikes him, the one of trying to explain things to Connor. "E'en when I know I shouldn't need 'em." The admission is soft with a faint air of shame. He can't help the way he is. He's been it for a long time.
She leans up on an elbow to kiss him. It's soft but with a sense of certainty. "I'm not going to ask you to do anything you don't want to do. I like you just fine like this."
She kisses him again because finally, finally, she can just because she wants, and then she lays back down.
"Besides, I'm still figuring out how to stop doing things I don't need to do. Dorian, y'know, I tried to be honest but he just..." She's too old to be hurt by strangers, and yet. "Eh. I just gave him whatever he wanted, instead."
The guilt trapped in him eases a touch at her forgiveness. Her kiss is answered freely, not one of urgency, just meeting her in act. Sweeney cups her cheek in the moment, not protesting when she rests back down.
He nuzzles her head at her confession.
"An' what was that?" His voice is soft and supportive.
"He was asking questions about the pack. I told him I don't want outsiders around us when we're together but he should come watch a dumb movie with just me and Godric." An exaggerated sigh. "I told him what I wanted to see. He insisted his movie tastes were better and so we're going to watch a horror movie."
She hates horror movies. "It's Japanese and artsy so I'm definitely gonna look like the dumb blonde in the room. I should get really drunk for it."
Sweeney pushes up with his far elbow, urging her onto her back. Rising enough to get back over her, he sits on his heels and tugs gently, trying to get what's left of her dress slid over her head so he can toss it haphazardly over his shoulder and onto the carpet.
He slides the supporting bracer off his shoulder to let it hang with the other. Bringing his lips to her chest, he draws soft lines upward with his tongue, accenting them with tender nips. When he gets to her collar bone, he presses the words against it with delicate kisses.
"He's a pretentious cunt. He thrives on makin' folk feel like that." Sweeney raises up to look directly in her eyes as he perches over her.
"I told ya, yer still gonna need those skins. Ain't you failin'. It's you adaptin'." He quirks a small smile. "What ya did, it weren't fer him. It's 'cause ya love Godric, an' Godric has shit taste in the prick he wants inside him."
God his tongue has her squirming under him, has her breathing a little deeper, but it's what he says when his eyes are on hers that really settles into her.
"I didn't want you to be disappointed in me," she confesses, very quietly. And he isn't, and the relief of it--she's been worrying for almost a week now--is staggering.
"Annie," Sweeney's voice is barely above a whisper. "You don't owe me anythin'." He bends to kiss her, feather-light, before he lingers, hovered above them.
"I'm in yer corner. We're lookin' at that mountain. It's a slippery piece'a shit, but I'm behind ta catch ya. I'm not gonna let ya fall just 'cause ya gotta take a step back ta get yer bearin's."
Another kiss, and he leans up just enough to let her see the supportive quirk of his smile.
"We can camp where we are as long as ya need b'fore we start up again."
She does owe him, though. Not because she's in his debt, but because he's earned so much of her respect and affection. She owes it to him to be worthy of the faith he has in her.
"I like the parts of me that you know." Which is an odd way to say it but he knows her doubts about there being many pieces of her left. The things he sees in her, things she maybe doesn't see herself, are what she wants to hold onto. "I want to be better because of you."
"I want you ta be better 'cause of you too," he pokes gently. He softly kisses the Mark, and his tone sobers.
"I like bein' what I am with you. That ya let me be what I need ta be, knowin' that you need it too." He bumps against her head a bit more firmly.
"That ya let me see ya naked...you don't know what that means ta me." He peeks up at her with a small, quirked smile. "Makes me feel like I can do somethin' good, still bein' myself. Helpin' me, helpin' you."
"You are one of the best people I know. One of the best I've ever known." And how she loves that smile on him.
"Now that you're officially pack, if anyone argues with me about it, I get to bite their face off." She clicks her teeth playfully, and nips his lower lip. It's all a gentle disguise for how steady and how strong her feelings are running. "I really don't know where I'd be if you weren't here."
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This still allows her to kiss him, which she does between gasps and soft cries, and lingering eye contact that makes this all so much headier.
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Of course he knows how limber she is, how her build and skills would allow for such a thing. But it's very different when it's put into practice. Sweeney would say she'd been holding out on him, but in the end, maybe the universe was just saving it for tonight.
He snarls against her skin at her biting, a faint whimper on its tail, before another growl chases behind.
The sweet pain and the hot ache and the terrible burden of prolonged wanting converge in a perfect moment, and he presses a sharp cry against her skin, burying her face in the crest of his hair.
Everything twitches and trembles as he fights against collapsing completely upon her. Even so, he only manages by the prop of his elbows against the grass. He fights for breath, panting in the curve of her neck, his lips rested on her shoulder as he sucks in the scent of her hair.
So. Fucking. Worth. It.
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"That was worth every time we almost and didn't," she whispers, grinning against his shoulder.
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He wants to tell her he's proud of her--of them--and he knows he will. But not right now.
Now is for the quiet and still, what they are and what they've just become. Those kinds of words would muddle it.
"Got what ya were lookin' fer?" he chuckles softly against her skin.
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She slides her other ankle over the back of his thigh. "This is perfect. I had no idea." Not about the surprise, but also that she was capable of stop much restraint in pursuit of something so, so good.
For the first time in years there's a belly-deep calm in her. But it doesn't mean she's done with him, or with this. "I get you for a while today, right?"
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"As long as ya want." This was her day--no, their day, for as long as she wishes it to be.
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She could barely get to her feet right now, she's too spent and momentarily satisfied to move, but he's well aware how quickly she recovers.
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He smiles and finally finds the ability to lift off of her to roll onto his back beside her. "I'll try not ta take too long," he assures with just the faintest bit of jest. Sweeney's pretty confident he's saved up enough want over the last few weeks to try to keep up.
"Ya want purple down both shoulders?" he asks idly, staring at the ceiling. That's a task he's willing to take to diligently, should she wish it.
"Nothin' too high," he promises. "I'll keep it clean."
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When she relaxes, her toes brush his leg. "You're still wearing so much."
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"Tend ta prefer it that way," he admits in a strange bout of honesty. Being naked is far different than fucking naked. One is a natural thing for the activity involved, like swimming; the other is a matter of keeping some level of distance in the act.
It's why he'd never fucked her without his trousers on, even when she'd gotten them past his knees.
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She doesn't have the nerve to ask, though. The answer is likely to be worse than just worrying silently about it.
So she finds another, more settled issue to zigzag onto instead. "I talked to Dorian."
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"I'll take 'em off." His face turns to her, his tone and expression openly genuine. "If ya want me ta."
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Her smile gives her away. "Yeah? I mean, I've never seen you. All of you."
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"If ya want me to."
Because it would be for her. He's plenty happy to keep them on. But it seems important to give, if it's something she's eager to take.
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"What do you like about keeping em on?"
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"They're safe." He presses his lips to her hair. "Like makin' Deals." A thought strikes him, the one of trying to explain things to Connor. "E'en when I know I shouldn't need 'em." The admission is soft with a faint air of shame. He can't help the way he is. He's been it for a long time.
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She kisses him again because finally, finally, she can just because she wants, and then she lays back down.
"Besides, I'm still figuring out how to stop doing things I don't need to do. Dorian, y'know, I tried to be honest but he just..." She's too old to be hurt by strangers, and yet. "Eh. I just gave him whatever he wanted, instead."
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He nuzzles her head at her confession.
"An' what was that?" His voice is soft and supportive.
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She hates horror movies. "It's Japanese and artsy so I'm definitely gonna look like the dumb blonde in the room. I should get really drunk for it."
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Sweeney pushes up with his far elbow, urging her onto her back. Rising enough to get back over her, he sits on his heels and tugs gently, trying to get what's left of her dress slid over her head so he can toss it haphazardly over his shoulder and onto the carpet.
He slides the supporting bracer off his shoulder to let it hang with the other. Bringing his lips to her chest, he draws soft lines upward with his tongue, accenting them with tender nips. When he gets to her collar bone, he presses the words against it with delicate kisses.
"He's a pretentious cunt. He thrives on makin' folk feel like that." Sweeney raises up to look directly in her eyes as he perches over her.
"I told ya, yer still gonna need those skins. Ain't you failin'. It's you adaptin'." He quirks a small smile. "What ya did, it weren't fer him. It's 'cause ya love Godric, an' Godric has shit taste in the prick he wants inside him."
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"I didn't want you to be disappointed in me," she confesses, very quietly. And he isn't, and the relief of it--she's been worrying for almost a week now--is staggering.
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"Annie," Sweeney's voice is barely above a whisper. "You don't owe me anythin'." He bends to kiss her, feather-light, before he lingers, hovered above them.
"I'm in yer corner. We're lookin' at that mountain. It's a slippery piece'a shit, but I'm behind ta catch ya. I'm not gonna let ya fall just 'cause ya gotta take a step back ta get yer bearin's."
Another kiss, and he leans up just enough to let her see the supportive quirk of his smile.
"We can camp where we are as long as ya need b'fore we start up again."
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"I like the parts of me that you know." Which is an odd way to say it but he knows her doubts about there being many pieces of her left. The things he sees in her, things she maybe doesn't see herself, are what she wants to hold onto. "I want to be better because of you."
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"I want you ta be better 'cause of you too," he pokes gently. He softly kisses the Mark, and his tone sobers.
"I like bein' what I am with you. That ya let me be what I need ta be, knowin' that you need it too." He bumps against her head a bit more firmly.
"That ya let me see ya naked...you don't know what that means ta me." He peeks up at her with a small, quirked smile. "Makes me feel like I can do somethin' good, still bein' myself. Helpin' me, helpin' you."
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"Now that you're officially pack, if anyone argues with me about it, I get to bite their face off." She clicks her teeth playfully, and nips his lower lip. It's all a gentle disguise for how steady and how strong her feelings are running. "I really don't know where I'd be if you weren't here."
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