allgotrabies | IC CONTACT

Her bite is met with a low snarl, and he takes long strides towards the door with his hands hooked under her. Sweeney shoves her against the wall next to it, claiming her mouth hotly.

It seems only fitting to have her so near where he had before, yet this time neither of them hurting in desperation, only in the shared want and bruised skin.

This is exactly where she wants to be right now, kissing him just as feverishly as that first time, but with clarity and without the background terror that he might change his mind and throw her aside. This time, he is her Pack, and she is his, and she is allowed to want him with every wild and fathomless depth in her.

She breaks the kiss just long enough to make eye contact, and it makes her smile as she kisses him again.

The smile causes the briefest flicker of humanity in the primal nature of the thing. It softens his brow, and it's met in the smallest of answers before her mouth is back on his.

That said, the rest of him isn't particularly interested in the waiting bit. But something occurs to him, a flash of the elevator, her propped up on the bar of it.

Sweeney leans back enough to break the kiss, then forces his forehead against hers as he tries to make words out of short breaths.

"Do ya want this?" he asks softly, as if they hadn't already spent the night fucking themselves to exhaustion. In the moment, he wants her consent, for her to know that no matter what they've done, he still cares, and she still has the right to choose.

The lower half of him is praying she says yes.

She knows if she said 'no' he'd let her stand, he'd let her get space. She doesn't know how things would go after that but she knows he wouldn't hurt her. It makes her want him all the more.

"Fuck, yes," a little note of hungry pleading in it. "I want- ba ...m-mhaith liom tú." It's harder to keep the phrase straight in her head now but she thinks she manages and it gives her the littlest flicker of pride. "Do you want me, too?"

A moan is trapped in his breath, just hearing the Gaelic on her lips. Sweeney tilts his head enough to nudge hers to the side so he can growl wantonly against her ear.

"Ba mhaith liom an oiread sin duit." There may be a few extra words in there, but there is any lingering confusion, it's promptly clarified by him shifting her weight enough to hurriedly sort out his position before shoving in hard.

And this is why he put his braces back on.

He knows there will likely be a day she says no. There will almost certainly be one when he does. He's just sure as fuck grateful it isn't today.

She chokes out a cry, wanting all of him, wanting to become nothing but sensation with him. They're both already so bruised, he has her nail marks all across his lower back, and it's the closest she's felt to having all of her put together in so many years.

Moving with him shakes loose her thoughts, but she's too enveloped in pleasure to look at them. Sariss talked about clarity; she feels on the verge of finding some when she's with him, and like this, things jostle their way into new places in her mind.

It's strange that in this, they're both seeking similar destinations along the same path. The quiet. The still. The clarity of mind that is so much easier to find when one is set to a singular, overwhelming purpose with the thunder of blood in the ears.

Sweeney has no words left to give, Gaelic or otherwise, just moans and growls and ragged breaths pressed roughly into the crook of her neck. For all the doubt there may have been, he finds the needed cliff and tumbles over it without too much of a struggle. A whimper yields to a cry, and his body is left trembling as he presses her into the wall for support. His knees are shaky, and he allows himself a few shallow breaths before he nuzzles her cheek and places a delicate kiss on the Mark.

Fuck me.

He can't remember the last time he'd spent so much of a night just fucking. Well, not just. Far from it. But at the moment, his body doesn't care much about the rest.

It takes a lot to wear her out. She was athletic as a human and that multiplied several times over when she became a wolf.

But when they finish she's breathless and barely annoyed to hold onto him and beautifully, blessedly exhausted.

"Fuck," is all she manages to say through her smile.

"Yeah," he breathes, still working on getting his legs steadier. The short word encapsulates so much more, the sating and exhaustion and comfort.

One hand abandons her to brace against the wall. A moment after, he gives it a push to dislodge them with the goal of getting them back to the grass. He manages the task with only a bit of swagger, and he sets her down as carefully as he can manage before he eases back.

It's cool and warm and all he wants is to lay down. He promptly collapses on his back in the grass and pulls down a cigarette, prepared to light one for each of them. After the first blessed drag, something occurs to him, and he lolls his head towards her with a tired raise of his brow.

"Ya get what ya need?" He'd gotten lost along the way and was far past keeping count. He certainly doesn't want to leave her wanting, though he has no idea what he can really manage at this point.

"And then some." She leans against him, but keeps it a light pressure in case what he wants is some space to collect himself. She takes a deep drag and chuckles, "Don't care if it's a cliche, a smoke after sex is one of the best things you can have."

She feels she could sink right into the blades of the grass, like a character in a cartoon might sink into a cloud.

"Fuck yeah, it is." Sweeney looks back to the ceiling with another slow drag. "Gonna hav'ta roll more if ya keep at 'em," he teases.

"Hopefully the rest will tide ya fer a bit. Ain't gonna lie 'bout me needin' a fuckin' break." He chuckles at himself. A break. From fucking.

"Are you kidding, I don't think I could get up and run if there was a fire." She closes her eyes, taking it all in: the physical exhaustion, the coolness of the grass and the heat of his body beside her.

She only opens her eyes to look at him. "You never taught me what 'thank you' is."

Sweeney's glad she's not looking to out-pace him. The sensation is somewhere between pride and relief. It takes him a moment to catch up with the question, but he tips his head as he offers the answer.

"Buíochas."

"Buíochas," she murmurs, committing it to memory.

This is usually the part where he buttons up, gets his shirt, walks her home. She doesn't want to stand, she doesn't want to go. She doesn't want him gone.

"You're Pack now. My Pack." In some ways more than the others are. "No regrets?"

He considers the question more seriously than his gut first sought to play off.

"Nah." Sweeney takes a drag and looks back at her, the smoke drifting between them. "You an' me," he answers with a touch of tenderness, but also a fair bit of clarification.

His head twists as he seeks the reciprocal.

"You?"

"Not even a little." And not even once since he first offered this as an option.

If she has fears it's only those she always has: that he'll change his mind. That the needs of a wolf run contrary to the needs of a leprechaun. But right now there are no such fears.

"You and me. The most wolf of the pack." She touches the Mark and smiles just for herself. "Will you stay until I fall asleep? Or sleep here, if- I know we've never done that. It's okay if you don't want to."

There's a moment of inhale as he looks back to the ceiling, briefly mulling the request. Something catches, and he rolls his eyes beneath his lids.

"Fuck me." Sweeney sighs.

"I got a daily meet up with my Warden, but yeah. I'll wait 'til ya sleep." He can't imagine it taking that long for her to. There's no big rush to leave, but he does have a promised obligation.

She shakes her head. "No, actually, let me catch my breath? And then walk me home."

She isn't upset. It's just the thought of waking up alone is worse than the risks of sleeping out on the common room couches, which she has done before. Godric will probably be home by now.

"A'right." There's no sense of guilt; she understands his need to fulfil his responsibilities. At the same time, it's easy enough to understand why she wouldn't want to wake up alone, even in the grass.

"No rush," he assures her. "It ain't 'til a lot later." Most folk seem to prefer after dinner drinks, which does him just fine.

She rests her head on his shoulder and lets herself be still. "I hope it works out with you and this guy. You deserve a warden in your corner."

He gives a sideways glance down to her. There's a breath before he shifts, moving his arm up to invite her to tuck under it.

"We get on well 'nough so far. He isn't nosy, has a low standard of good behavior, an' we meet in the Lounge 'cause he's a whiskey drinker."

Sweeney rolls his eyes beneath their lids.

"Which means the Adm'ral certainly inn't gonna pair us long-term."

"Ain't that the truth," she sighs, tucking his arm around her, stroking lazy fingers along his forearm. "But maybe you and me will just graduate together without wardens. I mean if I was paired tomorrow, and graduated next week? It wouldn't be because of that warden."

It's not just due to Sweeney either, but lying here with him there's no doubt he's a significant part of any progress she's made.

"If I graduate you're gonna be like, my guest of honor."

Sweeney cradles her enough to support her without crushing her against him.

"Damn well best be," he teases with a smirk. "That party best come with some grass." He nuzzles her head. "An' the after-party should be on this patch."

"Mm, fuck yes it will be." Her smile is peaceful rather than lascivious, though. "You know what's weird? How worked up over sex people here are."

He chuckles and gives her a squeeze.

"'Fraid I can't be castin' many stones there, luv. Feel like we've been pretty worked up 'bout it tonight too." Sweeney offers a cheeky smirk.

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