IC CONTACT

[allgotrabies]

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

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[allgotrabies]

"I know we're getting me away from people pleasing." And there' earnest gratitude when she says it. What she wants might not amount to a lot, but he puts a priority on it that matters a whole hell of a lot to her. "But I think both of us doing things for our, y'know. Wilder natures, means good things for both of us."

It certainly lets her continue exploring what being a real wolf is about. And Lord knows she loves seeing that same clever, feral edge in him.

[madaboutit]

Sweeney turns his head enough to nuzzle his temple against hers, before he settles his lips near her ear.

"I'm s'spectin' it's easier fer both of us ta be selfish when we're wantin' the same things." There's a logic to it; people-pleasing while getting what you would ask for if you could. An easy gateway to wanting.

[allgotrabies]

She strokes her fingers down his arm to his hand, then brings it up to her throat with a low, pleased sound. Just a teaser, she tells herself, for next time. "Teach me more Gaelic I can use when you're inside me."

[madaboutit]

His smile widens wolfishly as she brings his hand to her skin. Sweeney gives a faint squeeze in promise before he slides his fingers around her neck in tandem with his thumb while it grazes her jawline from her ear to the tip of her chin.

"Trouble, you get me doin' that, an' ya gonna get ta use them."

He doesn't hate that idea either.

[allgotrabies]

God but she has such a hard time resisting him. "I know a couple," she confesses. "When I was in the library I kind of...made sure to pick a couple up. And then I had to go home because Jon's got a really firm 'no touching yourself' rule."

[madaboutit]

Sweeney leans his head back to appraise her appreciatively.

"Sounds like a cunt." He can't imagine this Jon would approve of him fucking her there then as well. Something to remember, in case there needed to be an extra helping of trouble.

"You savin' them, or do I get ta hear them now?" he purrs. Either works for him, but the more she gets to talking, the more he's likely to put those stitches back at risk.

[allgotrabies]

"Níos mó." She murmurs it, not quite just a recitation. "Tar liom. I looked that one up when I was remembering standing on your boots so you could have me without me slipping."

[madaboutit]

"Mmm." His hands slip down to rest on the swell of her hips. "Couldn't have ya fallin'," he points out with warm invitation, clearly more caught up in the recollection than particular concern.

Sweeney's focus wanders down her throat and chest. At this point, it's more about things he wants to hear her say, rather than teaching her new things, especially now that she's studying on her own.

"Ná stad." One he had growled at her only a bit ago. "Don't stop." Sweeney's grip digs into her flesh, not cruel but firm.

"Níos doimhne." His voice is low with a hint of gravel. "Deeper." His hands press her down as he rolls his hips a touch in accent.

[allgotrabies]

"Níos doimhne," she whispers, and then says it again with huskiness behind it as if in practice for when she'll need it. "Yeah I think I like that one. Tell me something you really, really want to hear me say."

[madaboutit]

Sweeney takes a slow, deep inhale as he thinks on it. Normally, talking's not a priority for him during sex, but he would be lying to say hearing it in his own tongue doesn't make it more erotic. So he takes a long moment to consider.

"Fuck, ain't gonna complain 'bout any of those. I just want ya ta do it fer you." He's not looking to get out of the question, he just wants to put the most important part first.

In that vein, he tips his head to her. "Ba mhaith liom seo." His gaze lingers on hers as he whispers. "I want this."

Sweeney's tongue rubs against the roof of his mouth as pictures collect in his brain. "Éileamh orm," his voice falling huskier. "Claim me."

One catches in his throat, and his eyes dip as he keeps from giving it name.

[allgotrabies]

It is very much for her, but there's a lot in it that she delights in because he enjoys it, too. "Éileamh orm," she echoes, committing it to memory. And then he hesitates, and she lays her hand on his cheek. "What is it?"

[madaboutit]

He can't help but think about all he's been working towards, for both their comfort. Sweeney doesn't know if it'd be better or worse for it being in her repertoire. He turns his hand into her cheek, savoring her support, even as the wariness lingers.

"I...I'm not sure I should say it," he whispers. "Or that you should."

[allgotrabies]

She bites her lip against wanting to ask, but can't help it. Her thumb strokes his cheek. "You can tell me. And if you don't want me to say it, you can tell me that, too."

[madaboutit]

Sweeney yields, and his eyes lift to fix on hers with a guilty wanting.

"Bhfeidhm orm." He licks his lip and swallows, feeling that last moment to avoid it, the pushing through it with a bit too much hunger.

"Force me."

[allgotrabies]

She lets herself think on it. She wants everything with him to be something they both want, mutually, or she doesn't want it done at all.

There have been hints all throughout, though. The rough way he takes her; the way she wants him to pin her wrists.

When she's sure she knows what she thinks about it she kisses him slowly. "Bhfeidhm orm." The tip of her tongue touches his top lip. "Did I say it right?"

[madaboutit]

It's obvious by his shiver beneath her that she'd managed the phrase readily enough. The breath catching sharply in his throat only accents the point. It's the forbidden, the knowing he shouldn't want it. 'Claiming' is plenty close enough.

Sweeney slips his arms around her back, his forearms parallel with her spine as he pulls her to him. His eyes search hers in need for her to understand. He whispers, even in his firmness.

"Never for me. Promise." The unspoken intent lingers. Only because it's what you truly want. He needs her to say it, to be a creature of her word. Sweeney doesn't want to live with it on his conscience.

[allgotrabies]

She holds his gaze, needing him to know that there is a list of things she would never do to him. One is that she would never expose any vulnerable part of him to outsiders. Another is that she would never do anything that might add weight to all the regrets he already has.

"I promise."

[madaboutit]

Quiet relief eases his shoulders, though he doesn't lessen his grip. He kisses her chastely.

"'Éileamh orm' is better." Sweeney wants her to understand that the intent is there just as much, if not more. It's yielding through giving, not taking. Even if that giving looks an awful lot like it.

"Much." He dares a small smile. "You have no idea how much I'd love ta hear it on yer lips."

[allgotrabies]

The idea of being claimed is one that never fails to make her shiver. The fact he enjoys it only heightens it. "How long do you think it'll be before I can say it without us putting you back in the infirmary?"

[madaboutit]

His smile grows more mischievous, and his eyes roll up to linger a moment on the ceiling.

"Not fuckin' soon 'nough," he laments cheekily, rocking his hips up to meet her. It's readily apparent that all of this talk has not left him unaffected.

[allgotrabies]

She's still got her skirt hiked up and he's still naked and she can't help but roll her hips against his when he moves. "Just so you know, I might not be as good as Tiffany but I've stitched up a guy or two before."

[madaboutit]

"Mmm." The hum is accompanied by a discerning lift of his brow.

"You sayin' yer lookin' ta open me up?" he inquires with a touch of suggestion. Sweeney's running the numbers while he still has enough blood above his waist to do so.

[allgotrabies]

"I'd feel bad if I did," she confesses, reluctantly drawing back. "But it means I'll want you even more when you're healed."

[madaboutit]

Sweeney's surprised by her hint of withdrawal. Not that it's bad, just unexpected. She's always...eager. But there's a realization and a sense of pride on her behalf for her making the choice to restrain herself against her wants, understanding there will be deferred rewards, and they'll come a fuckton faster if he isn't ripping his stitches open on the regular.

The brief flicker of confusion yield to one of respect, and his eyes linger on hers. His hands slide from her back to rest on her hips.

"Well, might not be quite as pent up as a month'll do, but I'm 'xpectin' both of us will make the most of the fruits of our waitin'." His grin grows a bit wicked, but he doesn't pull at her.

"Is fiú duit fanacht."

[allgotrabies]

She tries to place the words but the meat of it doesn't surface. She draws her finger along his jawline. "What's that one mean?"