(no subject)

[onlythebranch]

"We could get away with it," he says with a rumbling laugh, but he has no real intention of pulling out his dick right here on the street. There are some things worth going to jail for and sex is one of them, but he's learned a long time ago he'd much rather enjoy sex than get arrested in the pursuit of it.

"But, no, love," he tells her, speaking against the curve of her throat. "Not here. We both have places to go, don't we?"

And now that he's thinking about it, it's the only thing he wants to do. Her skin is warm even though her clothes and he wants to pull away that layer.

If it's a mistake, he doesn't see the point in dwelling on it. As far as he's concerned, it's something she needs at the moment and he may be a shitty man with shitty ways of dealing with things, but he does care in his own way. Not that he'd admit it. What he can do instead is offer her something, some kind of distraction if that's what it takes.

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[onlythebranch]

Mad Sweeney laughs, a low sound that's still barely more than a moan, and the grip he has on her hips loosens bit by bit. Tipping his head to the side, he can see the red marks he's left behind, but he figures if she gave a shit about it, she'd have told him not to.

He's still inside her, still half hard, and he's not sure which part of fucking he likes best, but this is pretty goddamn high on the list. It feels good. Better than a hell of a lot of other things in his very long life have felt.

"Yeah," he agrees, hands gliding over her thighs.

[priordivergence]

"How's it look?" I ask, turning my neck and side for him to see better. There are very few contexts that I like being looked at but this is one of them. Something about the glint in his eye and the way I'm still on top of him makes it feel powerful. He hasn't pulled out of me and it's just on the right side of too much, overwhelming, and I feel no real desire to move.

[onlythebranch]

“Got some marks left behind there, darling,” he answers, brushing the rough pads of his fingers over her hips. It’s not all he’s looking at, though, not with the way she twists, the pull of her muscular frame, the tattoos and the scars. She’d laughed when he’d called her lovely, but he’d meant it. Would mean it still if he were to say it again, which isn’t likely. No need to delve too far into what that might’ve meant and he might still be inside of her, but he’s coherent enough now to keep his mouth shut.

“Better question is how’d it all feel, I think,” he points out with a lazy smirk.

[priordivergence]

"Whose fault is that?" I can't help but grin, enjoying this part too, the flirting that comes after. Leaning down, I steal another kiss from him, lazy this time in counterpoint to the hungry rush from before. It's tempting to stay like this, to have him stay inside me until he goes soft but it's equally tempting to shift a little and move off him so that I can lay down on top of him. Sweeney is broad and warm and makes a very satisfying pillow.

"Mm," is my response to his question. "I think you know how I felt."