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[allgotrabies]

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

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[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."

[madaboutit]

Sweeney's still firm in his opinion about the man being a prick. Annie is too kind to everyone.

But when the talk turns to music, he offers a gentle smile. "I'd like that." His eyes slide up playfully.

"An' maybe I can tell ya how e'ery Irish songs 'bout drinkin'."

[allgotrabies]

"Just about drinking? I heard Ireland's also got lots of sheep." Which might, from someone else, sound like a jab. But she's a wolf. "I always wanted to run through a herd of sheep. I almost did once, on my way through Mexico? But they talked me out of it."

Since a wolf running through a herd is going to end with a whole lot of bloody wool.

[madaboutit]

His laugh is sharp, like a scoff that kept going.

"Got me there," he concedes with a smile and roll of his eyes.

"We also sing 'bout fightin' an' fuckin' an' war." Sweeney's eyes slip a bit distant for a moment. He hadn't been there, not when the modern were born, of course. But it doesn't mean the subjects had changed or the acts that inspired them. His people's people's people are still fighting and still dying.

That fucking Christ cunt.

[allgotrabies]

"There's a band I heard a couple times, from Ireland." She bites her lip against a smile. "Funny lyrics, and real good barfight music, man. I should find some for you to hear, if you want."

[madaboutit]

"Sure." He seems vaguely indifferent, but still amenable. Not like he's going to be finding a real bar fight soon, especially after his conversation with Tim.

There's a moment's pause.

"You wanna start lookin' at names? 'Cause I'm guessin' ya might be needin' some fer tryin' on in a bit." He tips is head.

"If ya want." There's no obligation. Not like it's going to stop him from fucking her.

[allgotrabies]

"Think we can find a couple between now and dawn?" A raised eyebrow. "Just in case."

She figures he's the resident expert on Irish names, but she's more than willing to sneak into the library to grab a book. (Well, mostly willing. Leaving this room right now is something she does not want to do.)

[madaboutit]

"Fuck, woman."

He gives an exasperated sigh with a touch of an eye roll, even though the suggestion had obviously been his. It's still a lot to ask from his body.

"I'll do what I can, but ya best make them count. I ain't a fuckin' machine."

Sweeney's lips slide into a smirk. "Ya lookin' fer a proper name, or just words in general?" Because obviously the latter has more options, especially ones that don't refer to God with the capital G.