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[allgotrabies]

Hey, it's Annie, you know what to do.

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[allgotrabies]

"Oho, I like," she purrs, and straddles him. It's to better listen, of course, why would anyone think otherwise?

"Is minic a...bhris..." Her accent is still definitely American, and she winces by way of asking him to repeat it for her.

[madaboutit]

Sweeney squirms a bit beneath her, dubious of her motivations. He's still a bit off in his recovery after that last bout.

"'Is minic a bhris béal duine a shrón'," he clarifies slowly.

"We can do somethin' shorter ta start, if ya like. Might be easier."

[allgotrabies]

"No no, I can get it." A wicked grin. "I like that this is the first thing I learned to say in Irish. Okay, is minic a bhris...béal duine a shrón." She says it slowly, focusing on getting the sounds in their right places.

[madaboutit]

"Mmm." The wickedness in his eyes speak to his pleasure in hearing it on her lips.

"Would ya indulge me another? It's shorter an' sharper, I promise. Sweeney minimizes his grin, speaking slowly for her to take it in. "Go hifreann leat."

[allgotrabies]

"Go hifreann leat." Still with an accent but she mimics him better with this one. "What'd I just say?"

[madaboutit]

Sweeney bends to kiss her sweetly on the head before whispering against her hair.

"Go ta Hell."

He gives her a quick nuzzle. "Feel that one should get some use too."

[allgotrabies]

She says it again, those time with the right attitude it deserves, and grins at him for approval. "You're setting me up to be a badass, I see how it is."

[madaboutit]

He leans back enough to look down at her suggestively.

"Ya rather I be takin' a different direction fer ya?" He twists around her so he can whisper hotly in her ear.

"Ba mhaith liom tú anseo anois." Sweeney drops his face to lickthe tip of his tongue over her Mark.

"I want you here, now."

[allgotrabies]

It's sensitive now that the bruising is settling in, and that welt hurts in a way that makes her moan softly, makes her smile turn hungry.

"I need you to say that one again," sliding her leg up his, because her request has nothing to do with needing to hear it to mimic it.

[madaboutit]

"Ba mhaith liom tú anseo anois," he whispers, dropping his voice as his smile widens.

"Inis dom cad ba mhaith leat." His gaze slides down her. "Tell me what you want."

[allgotrabies]

"Slow. So you can tell me more Irish things, until you have to take me harder," which likely won't take long knowing her and how eager she always is for fast, hard, hungry.

[madaboutit]

"Well, then." He leans back, his brow lifted but his voice still low.

"In that case, is there somethin' ya'd like me ta talk 'bout in the meantime?" He is very open to ideas.

[allgotrabies]

He could say anything in that tone and it would have her writhing once he starts, but she is serious about wanting to learn so she wants to hear real phrases.

"Teach me how to say 'please'."

[madaboutit]

Sweeney's lips press for a moment, his eyes lowering.

"Le do thoil."

He leans back in to whisper it hotly against her ear.

"Le do thoil."

[allgotrabies]

"Le do thoil," she whispers back, using her legs to pull him closer. "Someday when we fuck I'm only going to speak Irish. What do you think?"

[madaboutit]

"Ba bhreá liom é sin," he purrs, readily shifting with her encouragement. Sweeney nuzzles his cheek against hers.

"I would love that."

How long had it been? Surely at some point, but a point long since forgotten.

[allgotrabies]

She kisses him, arching her hips up slightly in encouragement. "Ba mhaith liom ... an- anois."

She knows she needs to work on the enunciation but she remembers the sounds, maybe at least enough of them put together the right way that he gets her meaning.

"Remind me how that goes," nipping his lip, hinting at the idea that maybe she just wants to hear him say it now that she knows what it means.

[madaboutit]

"Ba bhreá liom é sin." Now, he likes this game.

Sweeney urges her gently back on the grass, not yielding the superior position, though he not climb on top of her. He rolls on his side and props his head up on his elbow, that he might look down her.

One fingertip traces a slow path from the dip of her throat towards her navel.

"Is breá liom teagmháil a dhéanamh le do chraiceann."

His eyes linger on his had as it takes its sweet time.

"I love to touch your skin."

[allgotrabies]

She shivers under his fingertips, breathing soft through slightly parted lips. She's on full display for him like this, and loving every second. "How do I say 'touch me'?"

[madaboutit]

He licks his lip, his gaze fixed on his hand.

"Teagmháil liom."

His fingertip slips past her navel, agonizingly slow.

"Téigh i dteagmháil liom anseo." His breath is more shallow. "Touch me here."

Sweeney's hand slides flat to cup her without any form of penetration, his voice softer still.

"Téigh i dteagmháil liom mar seo." He dares a slight peek back to her, more his eyes than his face.

"Touch me like this."

[allgotrabies]

Anseo, she recognizes that word. Which means mar seo must mean 'like this'.

She's too distracted to trust herself to mimic the full phrase back so she tips her hips up a fraction. "Mar seo."

[madaboutit]

"Aye." Sweeney nuzzles his cheek against her hair.

He slowly takes his hand back, forcing himself to take a deep breath to calm. That said, he's not completely unaffected, though he's also exhausted. There's just something about the words, lost and found again and on her tongue.

"We should speak of other things for a while longer, I think." He smiles gently. "Seem ta remember some roughness being requested in the next go. Wanna make sure I can give it to ya."

[allgotrabies]

She strokes the back of his hand, acquiescing but still enjoying having him near. "Do you get to speak Irish here?" There must be other people who speak it, too. So many ancient people, so many minds knowing so many things.

[madaboutit]

He shrugs, running his tongue over his teeth. "Met a couple of Irishmen, but they're too young ta know the tongue." His brow furrows.

"There is one cunt. Right after I got here, back when we could only speak in different languages. He couldn't speak it 'pparently. But he kept writin' me notes an' throwin' 'em at me."

Sweeney rolls his eyes, clearly not a fan. He goes on to describe a fellow conspicuously like Thomas Blanky.

[allgotrabies]

"Aw if that's who I think it is, he's nice," she laughs. Blanky was the only person she was able to go to when Crozier disappeared, but she hasn't dared touch base with him now.

The last thing she wants to think about right now is Crozier, though, so she gladly seizes up another topic. "How d'you feel about songs in Irish? Because I could probably learn some from the library but I wouldn't know what the words mean."