Her playfulness isn't all an act all the time. But her humor is more muted than she'd like people to think. She gives him a wicked, happy little grin and nips his lower lip and giggles. "One more time, I gotta hear it just one more time-"
His grin widens when she nips at him, and his gaze darts down to her lips before returning to hers eyes. Sweeney's mouth hovers without kissing her but his breath still finds her skin as he purrs.
"Ba mhaith liom tú." He exhales with invitation. "Ba mhaith liom tú i gcónaí."
She's kissing him before she can quite stop herself. In her defense she breaks it before she decides to pull his hand off the wall and between her thighs. "You gotta walk me home or I'm going to undo those buttons."
Sweeney's caught up in the kiss, and he doesn't realize what she's doing until she's done it. The feel of her skin makes him inhale sharply, as if threatening to pull the breath from her mouth.
It takes him only a moment to understand, and the devious grin sets back in. He shifts his hand and shoves up against her. Not in her but roughly enough to urge her on her toes.
"Don't need it," her breath catches and she tilts her hips just so, trying to get his fingers where she wants them. "I just want the smell of you in my room."
"Shirt ain't 'nough then?" He inquires with a wicked arch of his brow. His hand holds fast; she can squirm as she likes, but there's no getting him inside.
"You gettin' greedy, Trouble?" Sweeney can't resist a grin.
"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.
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"Ba mhaith liom tú." He exhales with invitation. "Ba mhaith liom tú i gcónaí."
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It takes him only a moment to understand, and the devious grin sets back in. He shifts his hand and shoves up against her. Not in her but roughly enough to urge her on her toes.
"Who says ya won't do it when we get there?"
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"Since when do you need comfortable?" Sweeney forces his hand up a higher, encouraging her to shift between her feet to alleviate some pressure.
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"You gettin' greedy, Trouble?" Sweeney can't resist a grin.
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"You saying you don't like me being greedy for you?"
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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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