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[allgotrabies]

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

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[madaboutit]

"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.

[allgotrabies]

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.

[madaboutit]

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.

Give her time.

[allgotrabies]

She doesn't keep him waiting too long. She pulls her head back with a smirk and straddles him, sinking down--but taking only the head of him in.

"Show me how you missed me," she purrs.

[madaboutit]

Fuck woman.

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.

[allgotrabies]

"You must've missed me more than this," she says, around a pleasured whimper. "A fháil ar dom."

[madaboutit]

She doesn't have to tell him twice.

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.

[allgotrabies]

"Sea," she groans, fingers in his hair, one hand on his shoulder, anchoring herself so she can push down onto him as he drives up into her. "Na stad-"

[madaboutit]

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.

[allgotrabies]

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.

[madaboutit]

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.

[allgotrabies]

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.

[madaboutit]

"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.

[allgotrabies]

She laughs and takes up her familiar, favorite spot with her head on his shoulder and one of her legs draped over his. "No one has smokes like these."

[madaboutit]

"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.

[allgotrabies]

"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.

Every choice is delicious in its purpose.

[madaboutit]

"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."

[allgotrabies]

"I want a pipe," she breathes, looking up at him in excitement. "You can teach me how to feel them out. What makes a good pipe?"

[madaboutit]

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.

[allgotrabies]

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.

[madaboutit]

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."

[allgotrabies]

"Just us and the delicious buffalo," she shakes her head sadly. "But I know a great floating market on the way there. If they don't have pipes I'll eat my hat."

[madaboutit]

Sweeney can't help but laugh, and he taps the tip of his pipe on her nose.

"Well, then I'd be havin' ta get ya a new hat an' a pipe, so let's hope that have somethin' that suits ya."

Another twist of his wrist and the pipe's tucked back into the Hoard, and he pulls a drag from his cigarette.

[allgotrabies]

Getting him to laugh is still as much a delight now as it always has been, she finds, and even feels a touch of pride about it. "Oh! D'you have the bead?" She can braid it in while they're lying here enjoying the night.

[madaboutit]

For a moment he's not sure if she gave it to him. His brow furrows as he tries to remember. Sweeney rubs small circles with his thumb over the tip of two fingers, like he's trying to pull up the shape. He's half-surprised when he does and it manifests.

He offers it to her. "Sec," he requests, having nestled his cigarette between his lips to free his other hand. It produces a fine-tooth ivory comb far easier. He presents it to her as well.

"Save us both the struggle."