It's also fresh enough that he forgets it's there. The question causes his mouth to stutter on her skin, and he forces his head back in effort to look down. It's an instinctive act, and by the time he can complete it, his brain's caught up.
"A reminder," he mumbles hurriedly, ready to get back on the path they were traveling. Even without enough blood in his brain, Sweeney knows that answer isn't going to be sufficient enough for Annie.
"Means 'bird'."
Explanation completed, he's got his hand back in her hair, and he's trying to pull her into his hungry kiss.
"I like it." And she is absolutely going to pester him with questions, but at some point later, when she isn't busy reacquainting herself with how it feels to have him fucking her speechless.
But first a queenly request. "Get naked, the sheets stopped smelling like you a week ago."
His affections pause and he leans his head back, his eyes keen on hers. He looks to be debating, though the smile doesn't completely abandon his lips. After a couple of seconds, he concedes but with a caveat.
"I'm keepin' them on tomorrow," he warns her. His grin spreads devious, and he's already bumping his boots loose so he can kick them off while his hands drop to his trouser buttons.
"You got yourself a deal," she grins, and wriggles down between his knees to help tear his clothes off.
Most of their sex still happens partially clad; even her clothes tend to stay mostly on. Especially when they're on the sea--too many things can go wrong, best to be able to just pull some clothes up and on and get to fixing the problem. So when they're docked, she loves having him--all of him--in her bed.
"Ba mhaith liom seo." She's always grateful when he indulges her.
"Ansin é a ghlacadh," he growls in challenge, eager and wanting.
He has no doubt that she will, but it's hot as fuck to watch her do it. Sweeney's up on his elbows looking down to her, poised to see how she'll have it. Knowing that she can take what she wants without instinctively trying to calculate what would make him happy instead makes every moment more delicious.
She rakes her nails--light but enough to leave faint pink traces--along his stomach and hips, using her tongue along his length as a soft counterpoint. She has never stopped enjoying teasing him, but now that she trusts him when he says he wants her to go after what she wants, it's different: more unpredictable, more suited to her whims.
Sweeney's snarl catches and comes out more as wince. His fingers twist tightly, clenching the sheets as he tries to give her what time he's able. He knows it won't be long, not with her taunting him like that. Soon enough, his hand will be on her shoulder to steady himself, then another will seek her hair as an anchor.
It's all downhill after that. He'll pushing her head down before trying to yank her up onto him so he can shove the rest of her back down again. But she's taking, and he's doing his very best to give.
He forces his head back onto the pillow, eyes pressed shut to try to focus. Of course, that only gives him the one thing on which to do so. Sweeney's toes flex as he works to keep his breath slow.
He isn't sure if this is better or worse. It's probably both. There's no way to avoid his hands snapping to her hips, his fingers digging into her flesh hard enough to bruise as he yanks her down when he thrusts up to meet her. His jaw's set tight, and his eyes are fixed on her. Sweeney will let her take her time on top, but that hardly means he won't be taking while she does.
One arm secures around her waist as the other sets to pushing them up so he can roll them back over. A half a breath later, and he's shoving roughly while his mouth finds her throat and bites hard. Sweeney's muscles roll his shoulders, and once he's settled, his thrusts are more even, if sharp and vaguely-controlled. He wants there to be some form of intent in the act before they both just fall into primal want and urgency.
"Níos fearr?" he growls against her skin, his lips pulled back in a wicked grin.
The words only drive him on more hungrily. Fuck, how he's missed her. Missed this. Her neck and shoulders will be a patchwork of purple tomorrow. He can't do that with any whore. He can't lose himself and find himself in the same moment like he does when he's inside her.
Sweeney's pace builds, the roughness in the act something he's always happy to give her. He wants to fill her and devour her and just have her.
She used to keep herself composed with him--with anyone she fucked--but she hasn't in over a year now. With him she's unabashed and vocal, growling against his shoulder or crying out when he hits just right just the right number of times. When she comes though, she's always silent, unable to so much as breathe through the pleasure.
She loves when she comes first, when she can be lightheaded as he continues on.
He loves it too. All of it; that she's loud enough that the crew of the ship (and possibly the neighboring one) knows just how much she's enjoying herself, her silence telling only him how much more she is in that moment. But most of all, he loves the tight grip and wake of ripples wrapped around him. It's never too long before he follows suit.
There's wincing and snarling before the kick, and he's left trembling and twitching after. Sweeney does his best to avoid collapsing on her, but it normally just leaves him propped on an elbow, nuzzling and nipping at her neck as he pants against it.
"No other trouble like you, Trioblóid," he murmurs, willing his breath to slow.
She's grinning, stroking his back in slow, long circles. "Fuck, I love coming back to you." She loves the way he leaves her so sated she can hardly think of moving, she loves the smell of him and his voice, and how alive she feels with him.
"I love ya comin' in front of me too," he pokes with a tired grin, rolling off of her and pulling down a cigarette. There's the pause of lamentation his trousers are lost, but with a bit more focus and a flick of his wrist, he's able to find the lighter and set it to good use.
Sweeney takes a long drag, holding it as he offers the cigarette to her.
"Aye," he agrees with a tip of his head. The last port had left him with gigantic leaves, and he's all too happy to cut it down himself.
Sweeney squirms around her enough to get a second one lit, and with the task completed, he settles back into things, his arm wrapped around her nudging just a bit closer. It's something lost and half-remembered. A comfort he's forgotten to forget.
"That's the real reason ya keep comin' back," he teases, clearly not meaning a word of it.
"Yup," she grins back. "Just this. A good smoke after a good fuck."
Life here is hard. But next to the hell of the Barge this is heaven, every pleasure here heightened by how precious and precarious it is. Death is real here. It waits around a lot of corners, and they have some say in how it comes. Today, she chose to live. Today, she decided to get up and live another day, so she could come back to Flotilla to see Sweeney.
"Then I best stay stocked up on my rollin'." His lop-sided grin slides from her face to the ceiling while he takes another drag. Sweeney savors the still as long as he's able. It's easier to chase after it here with her.
"We should find a pipe that suits ya." It makes sense. He isn't sure why he didn't think of it before. Sweeney peeks back at her without turning his head.
"Would surprise ya with one, but ya really should get ta feel 'em out."
With a wrist flourish, Sweeney produces his own, the long-stemmed ceramic pipe he used on the knoll. Back before things went to shit. The one he smokes here on occasion. When he remembers to.
He presents it for examination. "Admittedly, I've had mine fer a long time, an' that's pretty much what they looked like then." But at the same time, he could have traded it out countless times and hadn't.
"Ya wanna good cup in yer hand." He points out each thing in turn. "Good balance, comfort in yer mouth. Some folk like something heftier if they're gonna chew on it." He shrugs. "Not fer me." Which is good because the terra cotta would shatter.
"Weight matters, mostly if yer gonna smoke it without usin' yer hands." Which he also doesn't do.
She hums, watching him, studying. "I want to use my hands when I smoke. And if I chew on anything it'll bust." She can chew through metal if she has long enough to try.
He can't help but smile as she walks through it. "That leaves ya all the options," Sweeney teases gently.
"An' we haven't talked 'bout aesthetics, obviously." A small wink caps the thought. "Some time yer in town fer a bit, we can have a look 'round." His brow lifts with a partial shrug, as much as the pillow allows.
"'nless ya think there'll be a town where those buffalo are."
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2022-01-31 05:01 pm (UTC)"A reminder," he mumbles hurriedly, ready to get back on the path they were traveling. Even without enough blood in his brain, Sweeney knows that answer isn't going to be sufficient enough for Annie.
"Means 'bird'."
Explanation completed, he's got his hand back in her hair, and he's trying to pull her into his hungry kiss.
no subject
Date: 2022-01-31 05:10 pm (UTC)But first a queenly request. "Get naked, the sheets stopped smelling like you a week ago."
no subject
Date: 2022-01-31 05:28 pm (UTC)"I'm keepin' them on tomorrow," he warns her. His grin spreads devious, and he's already bumping his boots loose so he can kick them off while his hands drop to his trouser buttons.
no subject
Date: 2022-01-31 05:39 pm (UTC)Most of their sex still happens partially clad; even her clothes tend to stay mostly on. Especially when they're on the sea--too many things can go wrong, best to be able to just pull some clothes up and on and get to fixing the problem. So when they're docked, she loves having him--all of him--in her bed.
"Ba mhaith liom seo." She's always grateful when he indulges her.
no subject
Date: 2022-01-31 05:49 pm (UTC)He has no doubt that she will, but it's hot as fuck to watch her do it. Sweeney's up on his elbows looking down to her, poised to see how she'll have it. Knowing that she can take what she wants without instinctively trying to calculate what would make him happy instead makes every moment more delicious.
no subject
Date: 2022-01-31 07:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2022-01-31 08:07 pm (UTC)It's all downhill after that. He'll pushing her head down before trying to yank her up onto him so he can shove the rest of her back down again. But she's taking, and he's doing his very best to give.
He forces his head back onto the pillow, eyes pressed shut to try to focus. Of course, that only gives him the one thing on which to do so. Sweeney's toes flex as he works to keep his breath slow.
Give her time.
no subject
Date: 2022-01-31 08:11 pm (UTC)"Show me how you missed me," she purrs.
no subject
Date: 2022-01-31 08:28 pm (UTC)He isn't sure if this is better or worse. It's probably both. There's no way to avoid his hands snapping to her hips, his fingers digging into her flesh hard enough to bruise as he yanks her down when he thrusts up to meet her. His jaw's set tight, and his eyes are fixed on her. Sweeney will let her take her time on top, but that hardly means he won't be taking while she does.
no subject
Date: 2022-01-31 08:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2022-01-31 09:03 pm (UTC)One arm secures around her waist as the other sets to pushing them up so he can roll them back over. A half a breath later, and he's shoving roughly while his mouth finds her throat and bites hard. Sweeney's muscles roll his shoulders, and once he's settled, his thrusts are more even, if sharp and vaguely-controlled. He wants there to be some form of intent in the act before they both just fall into primal want and urgency.
"Níos fearr?" he growls against her skin, his lips pulled back in a wicked grin.
no subject
Date: 2022-01-31 09:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2022-01-31 09:31 pm (UTC)Sweeney's pace builds, the roughness in the act something he's always happy to give her. He wants to fill her and devour her and just have her.
no subject
Date: 2022-01-31 09:35 pm (UTC)She loves when she comes first, when she can be lightheaded as he continues on.
no subject
Date: 2022-01-31 09:49 pm (UTC)There's wincing and snarling before the kick, and he's left trembling and twitching after. Sweeney does his best to avoid collapsing on her, but it normally just leaves him propped on an elbow, nuzzling and nipping at her neck as he pants against it.
"No other trouble like you, Trioblóid," he murmurs, willing his breath to slow.
no subject
Date: 2022-01-31 10:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2022-01-31 10:09 pm (UTC)Sweeney takes a long drag, holding it as he offers the cigarette to her.
no subject
Date: 2022-01-31 10:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2022-01-31 10:29 pm (UTC)Sweeney squirms around her enough to get a second one lit, and with the task completed, he settles back into things, his arm wrapped around her nudging just a bit closer. It's something lost and half-remembered. A comfort he's forgotten to forget.
"That's the real reason ya keep comin' back," he teases, clearly not meaning a word of it.
no subject
Date: 2022-02-01 01:23 am (UTC)Life here is hard. But next to the hell of the Barge this is heaven, every pleasure here heightened by how precious and precarious it is. Death is real here. It waits around a lot of corners, and they have some say in how it comes. Today, she chose to live. Today, she decided to get up and live another day, so she could come back to Flotilla to see Sweeney.
Every choice is delicious in its purpose.
no subject
Date: 2022-02-01 01:59 am (UTC)"We should find a pipe that suits ya." It makes sense. He isn't sure why he didn't think of it before. Sweeney peeks back at her without turning his head.
"Would surprise ya with one, but ya really should get ta feel 'em out."
no subject
Date: 2022-02-01 03:30 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2022-02-01 03:53 am (UTC)He presents it for examination. "Admittedly, I've had mine fer a long time, an' that's pretty much what they looked like then." But at the same time, he could have traded it out countless times and hadn't.
"Ya wanna good cup in yer hand." He points out each thing in turn. "Good balance, comfort in yer mouth. Some folk like something heftier if they're gonna chew on it." He shrugs. "Not fer me." Which is good because the terra cotta would shatter.
"Weight matters, mostly if yer gonna smoke it without usin' yer hands." Which he also doesn't do.
no subject
Date: 2022-02-01 03:57 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2022-02-01 04:10 am (UTC)"An' we haven't talked 'bout aesthetics, obviously." A small wink caps the thought. "Some time yer in town fer a bit, we can have a look 'round." His brow lifts with a partial shrug, as much as the pillow allows.
"'nless ya think there'll be a town where those buffalo are."
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