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."
"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."
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.
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.
"This is so pretty," she croons, because she loves when he shows her old things from back in the Hoard. She's always curious but rarely asks about them; he's as likely as not to remember the answers, and often when he does remember it's nothing he wants to recall.
She takes her time brushing his hair because, well, he did give her a comb and he is relaxing here naked. Perfect time for it.
"Have you tried one of those bubblegum fish yet? I hear about 'em all the time."
There's a guilty pleasure at her combing his hair. There's lots of complicated baggage that the tingling of his scalp evokes, but it also has a clear physiological effect on him. Goosebumps spread at random intervals, and his breath catches on more than one occasion. Mostly, he just enjoys it with heavy lids.
"Hmm?" Sweeney plucks back to the present when she makes her inquiry. "Not that I'm aware of. Though..." His brow furrows briefly. "Now that ya mention it, that fish stew was a bit off. I just f'gured it'd sat out too long."
"If we end up eating cotton candy buffalo I'm gonna be so mad."
She leans down to kiss the corner of his mouth and then sets back to trying to bring back those goosebumps. Even after she braids in the bead she changes from the comb to her fingers, soothing and probing as his scalp as she lets his hair run between her fingers.
He smiles lazily at her kiss. The more she fidgets with his hair, the more sensitive he becomes, and she manages to earn a twitch or two. His throat rattles in pleasured purrs and murmurs. Sweeney's mind starts to wander. It's not ideal.
Images start to overlap. There are faint whiffs of music, like someone's listening down the hall, partial melodies and no words. His brow furrows slightly. The sensation in his scalp is no less pleasurable, it just carries with it some heavy baggage.
She's unaware at first. She's watching the water shadows on the ceiling, feeling the gentle rock of the boat, enjoying the softness of his hair. But she does look down and she does see his expression.
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timeasmymeasure
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."
no subject
Date: 2022-02-01 04:17 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2022-02-01 04:23 am (UTC)"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.
no subject
Date: 2022-02-01 04:39 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2022-02-01 04:48 am (UTC)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."
no subject
Date: 2022-02-01 05:18 am (UTC)She takes her time brushing his hair because, well, he did give her a comb and he is relaxing here naked. Perfect time for it.
"Have you tried one of those bubblegum fish yet? I hear about 'em all the time."
no subject
Date: 2022-02-01 05:24 am (UTC)"Hmm?" Sweeney plucks back to the present when she makes her inquiry. "Not that I'm aware of. Though..." His brow furrows briefly. "Now that ya mention it, that fish stew was a bit off. I just f'gured it'd sat out too long."
no subject
Date: 2022-02-01 05:32 am (UTC)She leans down to kiss the corner of his mouth and then sets back to trying to bring back those goosebumps. Even after she braids in the bead she changes from the comb to her fingers, soothing and probing as his scalp as she lets his hair run between her fingers.
no subject
Date: 2022-02-01 06:01 am (UTC)Images start to overlap. There are faint whiffs of music, like someone's listening down the hall, partial melodies and no words. His brow furrows slightly. The sensation in his scalp is no less pleasurable, it just carries with it some heavy baggage.
no subject
Date: 2022-02-01 02:23 pm (UTC)"You okay?"
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