Sweeney winces, but the pleasure of the act ripples down and forces up a shove of his hips. To feel her legs so tight is inviting. Her touch on his scalp makes him shiver and attempt to lean into her hand.
"Arís." He purrs the word passed his clenched teeth. "Níos mó."
His hand presses more firmly against the back of her head, as if to nudge her without smashing her against him.
It's a new word or one she doesn't remember as well but she can intuit the meaning and will ask him when she isn't so distracted by the heat of his skin under her tongue.
She bites a new mark on the other side of his neck when his hips do move against hers, and she murmurs, "You want me from behind?"
"Yes--" The word starts as breath, and a flicker changes it. "--no." Sweeney presses his eyes shut as he tries to focus with his blood racing downward.
He leans his head up to press the words hotly into her ear. "Tarraing mo choileach." He roughly nuzzles his cheek against hers.
"Suck my prick," he growls in hunger without the essence of command. His fingers dig in her hip before shoving down, but the hand in her hair makes no such demands. As much as he's able, he wants it to be a request, not an order.
His breath shallows and his eyes roll up to the ceiling as she continues her way downward. Sweeney licks his lips, trying to make sure he keeps the words clear.
"Fuck I love you talking like this," she whispers, between his hips now, teasing him with her tongue before she does as he requested and wraps her mouth around him.
Sweeney wants to tell her he loves talking like this too, the intimacy of words aching in their disuse. He wants to tell her how hearing them offered off her tongue makes him yearn to fill her mind along with the rest of her. How all of it makes him burn in the memory of wanting.
But the moment her warmth finds him, all he can do is gasp and press his head back into the grass. His hand twists tightly in her hair, and the other catches her by the shoulder. It would be a lie to say they don't seek to encourage her, but he leaves the act for her to control. They're more an anchor than anything.
The acute sensation puts into stark light how much his body has already born tonight, how sensitive he's been left, even though it's all too apparent he's not going to be stopping anything until they both get what they want from this.
She's conscious of the fact they might only get so far with this, that they'd run straight to redlining it earlier thanks to having teased each other for a month. But she's enjoying this, just making him react, giving pleasure and seeing where it goes--if it goes anywhere at all.
"Níos mó?" Because she likes hearing him speak, and she loves knowing she can make the words catch in his throat if she's quick with her tongue on his skin.
"Sea, sea," he moans, fighting to not claw at her. He sure as fuck wants to. "Ba mhaith liom é." Sweeney tries not to choke on the words, not bothering to translate them right now. She's allowed him this tongue, and now he finds he can't stop it.
"Le do thoil...ná stad." His toes curl in his boots.
There's a moment where he's trying to remember something, a thought he'd had when she'd first asked her how he wanted her. Every time he thinks he's starting to catch it, her tongue rubs at him with the most welcome distraction.
Right now just the melody of the words is enough. He's always quiet when they fuck, and hearing him now feels like a victory--one of his own sheepskins shorn right off. She acknowledges that plea with a deliberately drawn out, hungry purr, meaning to let him have the low vibration of it against his prick more than the sound for his ears.
If it lets him be more himself, she's happy to do this, to do anything, for him.
She finds a giddy thrill at not knowing exactly what he's saying. Having to depend on his tone, his body, is like going back to when she was first learning how to exist as a wolf.
She lets him guide her back up his body, all of her attuned to what they're going to do next.
His eyes roll as he does his best to focus them. It's a bit easier when her mouth isn't on him. He starts to push himself up to sitting, supporting her back to keep her seated on his hips as he does so. There's no intent to get inside her. It'd be too complicated the way things are anyways.
"Ba mhaith liom tú..." Sweeney starts mid-move, but he realizes it's not something she'll understand if he keeps going in Gaelic. His tongue searches for the English, and it's heavy like molasses.
"I...just..." He quickly looks to the grass on both sides of him. "Hook yer feet."
He trusts her to sort it out, because he's abandoned her back to help push himself up to standing.
She wraps her legs tight around his waist, both arms draped over his shoulders. She bites his neck again, just for good measure, just so in the morning he remembers how badly she needed him and how she enjoyed having him.
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.
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.
"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.
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Date: 2021-12-24 06:38 pm (UTC)"Arís." He purrs the word passed his clenched teeth. "Níos mó."
His hand presses more firmly against the back of her head, as if to nudge her without smashing her against him.
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Date: 2021-12-24 09:53 pm (UTC)She bites a new mark on the other side of his neck when his hips do move against hers, and she murmurs, "You want me from behind?"
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Date: 2021-12-24 10:58 pm (UTC)He leans his head up to press the words hotly into her ear. "Tarraing mo choileach." He roughly nuzzles his cheek against hers.
"Suck my prick," he growls in hunger without the essence of command. His fingers dig in her hip before shoving down, but the hand in her hair makes no such demands. As much as he's able, he wants it to be a request, not an order.
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Date: 2021-12-24 11:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2021-12-24 11:13 pm (UTC)"Tarraing mo choileach."
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Date: 2021-12-24 11:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2021-12-24 11:34 pm (UTC)But the moment her warmth finds him, all he can do is gasp and press his head back into the grass. His hand twists tightly in her hair, and the other catches her by the shoulder. It would be a lie to say they don't seek to encourage her, but he leaves the act for her to control. They're more an anchor than anything.
The acute sensation puts into stark light how much his body has already born tonight, how sensitive he's been left, even though it's all too apparent he's not going to be stopping anything until they both get what they want from this.
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Date: 2021-12-24 11:56 pm (UTC)"Níos mó?" Because she likes hearing him speak, and she loves knowing she can make the words catch in his throat if she's quick with her tongue on his skin.
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Date: 2021-12-25 12:14 am (UTC)"Le do thoil...ná stad." His toes curl in his boots.
There's a moment where he's trying to remember something, a thought he'd had when she'd first asked her how he wanted her. Every time he thinks he's starting to catch it, her tongue rubs at him with the most welcome distraction.
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Date: 2021-12-25 12:43 am (UTC)If it lets him be more himself, she's happy to do this, to do anything, for him.
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Date: 2021-12-25 01:17 am (UTC)Sweeney tries to force his breath slower, with only a slight bit of evening. He swallows and squirms, trying to right himself.
Then it clicks.
His hand fights to untangle itself from her hair, and both take to trying to catch her arms and pull at her.
"Suas, suas," he urges, trying to get her to abandon her efforts and get up higher on him.
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Date: 2021-12-25 01:30 am (UTC)She lets him guide her back up his body, all of her attuned to what they're going to do next.
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Date: 2021-12-25 01:46 am (UTC)"Ba mhaith liom tú..." Sweeney starts mid-move, but he realizes it's not something she'll understand if he keeps going in Gaelic. His tongue searches for the English, and it's heavy like molasses.
"I...just..." He quickly looks to the grass on both sides of him. "Hook yer feet."
He trusts her to sort it out, because he's abandoned her back to help push himself up to standing.
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Date: 2021-12-25 02:07 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2021-12-25 03:12 am (UTC)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.
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Date: 2021-12-25 05:18 am (UTC)She breaks the kiss just long enough to make eye contact, and it makes her smile as she kisses him again.
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Date: 2021-12-25 05:28 am (UTC)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.
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Date: 2021-12-25 05:39 am (UTC)"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?"
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Date: 2021-12-25 05:56 am (UTC)"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.
no subject
Date: 2021-12-25 03:35 pm (UTC)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.
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Date: 2021-12-25 05:22 pm (UTC)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.
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Date: 2021-12-25 06:21 pm (UTC)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.
no subject
Date: 2021-12-25 08:36 pm (UTC)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.
no subject
Date: 2021-12-25 11:10 pm (UTC)She feels she could sink right into the blades of the grass, like a character in a cartoon might sink into a cloud.
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Date: 2021-12-26 05:17 am (UTC)"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.
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