[ she probably hadn't given any thought to that comment beyond a brief observation, seeing the scruff that had already started to come in during their unplanned run-in at the mart, her with work-limpened hair and him already showing signs of that willingness to change up his routine here, to let certain habits lapse. of course, some of it had been brought on by not having access to his full range of motion, injured shoulder in the midst of healing, but now that he's fully on the mend and still keeping that look? yeah, she can't say she minds it all that much.
she is reminded of his latest wounds, though, when the touch of her fingers skims closer to that place where an emergency cauterization had seared flesh closed, sensitive to even the slightest press of bandages and she wonders how it looks now. she's curious enough to let her hand slip out from that open gap in his shirt and work open a few more buttons beneath, guiding the sides open with another roaming caress of her palm as the fabric catches on the ridges of her knuckles.
her weight is pressed more definitively against his by the time she breaks the kiss again, backpedals to slow, pursing pecks of her lips to his until she can trust herself enough to maintain more space β and then she touches him there, those twin wounds perfectly sized to the claws she'd seen emerge from between laura's knuckles, silent and seamless with only a few drops of blood left where they open up the skin. ]
Do they still hurt? [ her fingers stroke across the scars, darker than the others she's seen on his body, those times he hadn't necessarily shied away from her gaze but hadn't wanted to give her more opportunities to glimpse them β and she looks from where her hand rests on him up to his face, the shine of their kisses residing on his mouth, and she wants him all over again. ]
[ he feels the flutter of fabric against his chest as they're guided open, the slide of her hands tucking them away as they perform as a replacement of warmth across the exposed skin. but it doesn't distract him away from her mouth, not until she's the one who impose that separation. his eyes remain closed, however, right up until there's the graze of her touch over that fresh wound, and he sighs softly at the contact over that dried skin.
he finds her eyes settled on him, unable to tell if she's asking for a vocal response, or if she's peering to see if she can decipher the answer by merely watching the motion of his expression as she traces the wound.
he doesn't hiss, doesn't react beyond catching that breath. ] They all usually do. [ it's a quiet answer, implication highlighting not only those burnt claw marks but the scattered decoration of other molten skin, set there by mixes of bullets and blades, some more damaging than others. in the same way coffee had become a filler to drown away those sensations of exhaustion and tired limbs, he'd unintentionally found a replacement for physical pain in the way of deeper scars, most often in the shape of that photograph she'd once had to put back together with scotch tape. it was easy to ignore stinging aches no matter how often they came, if the nightmares were louder.
guiding his fingers to rest over hers at his shoulder, stroking gently along the peaks of her knuckles, he doesn't steer his eyes away from hers, foreheads nudging together from a slight tilt as he whispers, ] But it doesn't hurt right now.
[ what hurts more than the scars are the memories; if she actually had the ability to bear a more physical reminder of what she's sustained, maybe her skin would be as marred as his is.
but she can't scar, hasn't, not since before she became the heir, the only silver-light marks on her body reminders of an unsupervised childhood growing up on the homestead, getting into trouble. the line across her knee, where she'd ripped it open climbing on the tractor in the barn. the smaller pit at her hairline from where willa had chucked an old doll at her head. everything that hurts her now fades into nothing, and the only things she has left to show from it are her ghosts, her regrets, her list of names.
he doesn't flinch under her touch, doesn't pull away, his hand shifting to cover hers instead β and she's mindful of what any kind of pressure might do to an area that's still sensitive, fresher than the others, but her fingers do curve over the firm round of his shoulder then, as he traps them there with that slow sweeping.
and she doesn't answer him out loud β because she wouldn't know what to say even if she could β his face disappearing from her sight when her eyes flutter shut and her mouth finds his again, a certainty in that kiss now that maybe hasn't been there before, an assurance that isn't propelled forward by pollen wafting through an open window and into their senses. she kisses him as she finally shifts forward, settles herself anew on top of him with her knees pressed into the cushions on either side of his hips, until she can ease her weight down across his lap, fingers sliding into his hair to cup the back of his head. ]
[ it's an honest answer; no matter how many shifts he might try to pick up at the diner or the number of gigs he takes up in fixing home appliances, there's an emptiness that leaves room for the ache of his memories, always set to return no matter how much distance has been placed between them.
but there's been moments, smaller pockets of time, where he can set them down, not to forget, but to accept, to balance it alongside something that can give him a new weight to fill those slots, something that isn't stained with blood and gunpowder. he finds them when he's working up a makeshift recipe with laura in the kitchen, testing out just how much time between flipping the pancake batter and tossing in fruits for flavor. he finds them showing diamruid smarter angles to swing a bat to send those pitches flying further. he finds them when chloe asks him to look after the dog for a few hours, which ends up feeling more like a given favor than one for him to grant when she looks at him with soft eyes that tell him she's remembering an old friend with his face.
many times, though, he'll find them when wynonna's laugh spreads so wide she's left grinning long in the extended seconds after, when she's overly proud of a joke that's less funny in its delivery and more in her joyful reaction to it. or when she prods him hard on the ribs with a sharp elbow as they sit side by side in a movie theater while he mocks the old timey dialogue on the screen. or when she pretends to be listening when he attempts to teach her how to fix a clogged pipe so he doesn't have to come back and take it care of it so often even when they both know better.
he finds it now when she says nothing with words and instead covers his mouth with more firm kisses, and the way their lips find one another again and again so easily as they did the hours they lay in his bed make him wonder if the pollen ever really had an effect on them at all.
but he doesn't stay at her mouth, urged suddenly when she climbs upon his lap, thighs sliding together, to sink into the crook of her throat, a trail of kisses down the arch of her jawline getting him there. his breath falls heavy, hot, there on the outlines of bone at her collar, right until he's pressed more deeply against sensitive skin, seeming to find himself content in that solid new home for his lips β until his fingers curl at the hem of her shirt and guide it slow up her sides, aiming to tug it overhead. ]
[ she'd seen the change in him β gradually and over time, but still occurring, usually in spite of his attempts to counter it at every turn. and she can't take entire credit for that, she won't, isn't under any illusion that her influence is the primary source of any choice that's his to make, but even in the months they've both spent here, he's had a willingness to make his presence more prominently felt. like a job at the diner, rather than just ducking in for a quick breakfast and all those cups of coffee before leaving.
and they'd continued to bump into one another, either by choice or coincidence, those encounters doing everything to bring them to this moment here, with her chin tipped up against his mouth and his breath ghosting hot across her skin, making her thighs squeeze reflexively on either side of him, her fingers clutching harder at his scalp.
she thinks of the day she'd confronted him at his place, his eyes gently observing her from behind a bear's snout, a pair of fuzzy and rounded ears twitching at the sound of her lecturing him on why he shouldn't have kissed her at the height of chloe's party, drinks and drug zooming through her bloodstream and making her more willing to guide her mouth against his.
and she thinks about the promise they'd made each other while tangled up in his bedsheets β that maybe while they're here, they don't need to keep running, can just stop and exist here, and she wonders if this counts at all, that for however long they fall into this warm, wanting embrace it means neither of them has an out in mind. leaving is the furthest thing from her thoughts now when his kisses descend over the curve of her neck and his hands coax up the bottom of her shirt; she lifts her arms slowly, enabling him to roll it further, past her shoulders, her hair tumbling down once freed from the collar.
it's no more uncovered than how he'd seen her at the party, nearly the same amount of skin exposed, but it's different when she anticipates his mouth on her, his gaze roaming, and a more vivid color rises in her cheeks and the top of her chest as she peers to him now, suddenly nervous. ]
[ as he peels the shirt over her head, fabric tossed carelessly to the floor by the couch as his attention diverts elsewhere, he watches the fall of her hair, long locks coating her naked shoulders, smooth skin that seems to stretch even further with that removal, save for where dark straps still hold her at her center. the look that he gives her isn't one overturned by lust, even when his breaths hint at the encircling heat that spirals throughout, blood surging further below β not well concealed when she squeezes her thighs tighter against him, and any subtle roll could spell it out more clearly.
but somehow his gaze presents a softer affection, one conjured by the notice of her flushed cheeks, caught even beneath the fallen hair there, and he reaches up with both hands to tuck those strands away, palm soothing a caress where he knows the deep press of her dimples before reeling her in for a kiss.
somehow he manages to offer something more tender despite the urgency he feels to taste her even further, to guide his tongue back into her mouth; instead, it's a gentle press, almost chaste, before giving their noses a soft brushing stroke. ] Y'know, we don't have to. [ it's a soft offer, final words to give her that opportunity to reconsider where they're inevitably steering this fast moving train. that first time, he'd kissed her on his own whim, selfishly acting on his spontaneity and bearing the consequences (quite literally) when she'd scolded him afterwards. the second was under a cloud of pollen which skewed both of their certainty as to how much of those kisses had been by their own personal choice. ]
Anything you want. [ he wants to make sure that despite whatever impulses cue him forward, this time he intends to leave the choice in her hands. to take every kiss, every touch, and decide whether to run with it, or turn tail in the chance that this may leave her in regret when the faint taste of whiskey fully clears. ]
[ she'd found it all too easy to give in to her want for him before, back when the pollen had fueled her impulse to feel more of his body against hers, his skin, even if it didn't evolve beyond the simple press of mouths, the idle stroking of hands β and it had been similarly easy to convince herself, later, that all it had been building on was superficial attraction, any deeper yearning she'd felt some warped, tainted thing that was rendered meaningless in the harsh light of day.
she's predicting the return of his mouth to her, exploratory hands; she isn't planning on the slow sweep of hair back from her face, her shoulders, and the tender urging of his lips, a peck that doesn't venture deeper before his nose nudges into hers and he offers the soft assurance that this doesn't have to go any further than she wants it to. and for what feels like a small infinity, even though it probably only lasts for a few seconds, she just looks at him with a burgeoning wonder, head tilted into the slide of his palms across her jaw.
because for the longest time, she thought she'd had him pegged a certain way when they'd first met, careful words and guarded smiles, measured reactions to even her most blatant humor, to a degree where it always felt like a personal satisfaction whenever she'd provoke more than a small chuckle from him. he'd expressed his appreciation for her help in reeling him back to himself from the precipice of pure animal fury, and there'd been shades of it then, depths in his gaze, a greater softness that she wasn't prepared to handle. but she'd found her axis tilting towards him right there in his damn kitchen, the air holding something heavier and more meaningful before she'd ultimately broken free.
and sitting here now, confronted with that look again, she finally gives in, as if all it's taken is him telling her she has a choice to make her realize what she wants. no more backpedaling, no more paralyzing indecision, and she can't even undercut it with a lame joke either. her hand resumes that slow slide through his hair, soothing strokes that comfort her too, and she drifts in close enough for the tip of her nose to bump his, exhaling shakily. ]
You. [ don't ask her to explain what it's going to look like moving forward, if they're even going to have anything beyond tonight; she's not thinking that far ahead, not considering anything but the man whose arms are around her and whose mouth she returns to again, sealing her decision in that yielding kiss. ]
[ for a moment, he thinks she might actually draw herself back, as soon as the offer leaves his lips, and he remembers how undeserving he is of serenity like this, her smooth skin beneath his fingertips as she breathes softly against his mouth. but she jolts him instead, with the whisper of a single word β you β and as she closes in on him, he realizes thereβs little he wants more in the moments that follow than the soothing press of her kiss.
and itβs exactly that which he earns, tenderness as he tilts her with his palm, turning his own head for that sought out deepening. with the curl of his tongue within her mouth to meet with hers, he echoes a low rumble, his own wordless response to being wanted, even if only for however long they embrace it tonight. because for whatever reason heβd fallen into this bizarre trap, sheβd twisted him into knots from the early seconds in which heβd only heard her voice, banter exchanged with useless trivia but easing him into softening those tender cracks of his skin, a subtle effort that had its long term effects with every meeting that followed, casual conversations across the diner table that had inevitably brought them about to that first kiss as their bodies shivered wet and cold.
but everything about this is warm, heat exchanged passionately from mouth to mouth, eagerly now that any remnant of uncertainty has been vanquished for good; if sheβs sure of it, then he wonβt consider any other sense of logic that points to the flaws of this entanglement.
when he leaves her mouth again, itβs to seek out that original perch of skin heβd originally intended to taste, lips pursing softly at the center of her collar, peppering kisses that shuffle the soft hairs of his face across her chest in subtle ticklish caresses. and then his mouth parts to massage the soft flesh at the height of her breast, just above the fabric that conceals the rest of it, as his hand curves to her back, stealthily finding the clasp to undo with careful fingers. ]
[ she doesn't have time to be scared, doesn't have time to second-guess β not because of anything he's done, but because she doesn't allow it for herself, doesn't let the doubts creep in when his lips meld to hers again, firm and yet pliable. because she'd underestimated what his kiss would do to her, even if the last time had been clouded, spurred ahead into certain territory faster than they were completely prepared for. because she'd believed she would only have to settle for this in dreams that felt all too real and left her wet and aching upon waking, and now that it's become her reality, she wants it more than anything else.
the whiskey is still strong on his lips, passed between them in the tangling of tongues, the slow rhythm they find themselves in that quickens in small increments, unhurried regardless of the later hour. it's a taste she wants to get drunk on, sinking into the guidance of his hand along the side of her face, gentle and cradling, and she gives voice to a soft, breathless sound alongside the groans that pitch lower, deep in his throat.
her fingers are a temporary flurry between them, only working to thumb open the remainder of the buttons that hold his shirt closed, but she won't get as far as peeling it off his shoulders, only in parting the sides across his front before the band of elastic across her back snaps apart when the clasp gives way, the straps easing forward by gravity and a subconscious roll of her body before she flings the whole thing aside. she hasn't extricated herself from his lap yet, unable to find a good excuse to pry herself away for too long, and his mouthing over the curve of her breast, those mounds rendered softer and heavier ever since alice, stills her completely, a shiver coursing up the length of her spine to make those sensitive buds draw up taut from new exposure, from arousal, from awareness.
and she hasn't found a reason for her hand to slip out of his hair yet, using those strands for purchase now while his lips navigate all that bared territory, warm skin aching for touch, the rasp of his beard an added friction that would make her knees weak if she wasn't already straddling him. ]
[ somehow the partial effort in removing his shirt, the halves of it that merely hang at his shoulders exposing more skin, including that involuntary ink, leaves the surface of his body feeling warmer than before. credit could be given to the alcohol still lingering there in his belly, whiskey spread from his lips to his throat and beyond, but it only aids in small forms to give him the encouragement to work his fingers in discarding more of her layers, the majority of that prompted by the noises that mix with his own, words formally exchanged now for the stretch of moans within the rest of the silence.
when heβs left with nothing but the bare presentation of her breast, he parts his lips to dampen the nipple against a slippery tongue, already rendered so alert even as he encircles wet muscle around the pink skin, letting his breath further heat over the skin.
but somehow itβs the grip of her fingers that rouse him all the more, that rhythmic stroke combing through waved curls and massaging over his scalp. it draws him even further against her, so close that he wonders if itβs her heart he hears beating or his own, a persistent stamping in his own chest.
his fingertips roll across the now fully naked stretch of her spine, smoothing down vertically until they curve out to her hips, securing her weight down against him, nestled tightly within the confines of her thighs, where his own arousal spurs into a more solid form. ]
[ they reach a new precipice and she sways, caught between the slow track of his fingers rolling down the length of her spine and his mouth on her skin, lips parting for tongue to swirl against those parts of her that feel entirely primed for his attention, so much so that she gasps, clutching that much harder against where she's already found a hold in his hair, guiding him firm to her breast.
and she hasn't been able to think through the act of having to peel herself away to remove those bottom layers, cotton and lace that still hinder more of her skin from his. she can't think about much of anything when he's letting his lips lavish over those parts of her that have been hidden from everything for all this time β sight, touch, all of it.
her quietly exhaled moans are breathed across his hairline when she reflexively rocks into him, and it's his name that his efforts prompt. his name, not the one he'd given her all those months prior.
she's caught up in it enough that she isn't focused on anything else, any other sounds save the ones emanating from him, the ones she prompts, the ones he elicits, and through the layers that still remain she can perceive his own body's response, that hardness against the inside of her thigh, and the dull pulsing between her legs accelerates into something undeniable, proof of her need easily discoverable once she's further undressed. but she kisses him again (and again and again), and this time it's her moving, guiding the open sides of his shirt down and off his shoulders, baring the length of his arms for the smoothing of her palms before her mouth peels away from his to explore the broadest part of him, head ducking down for her to tease lips and tongue across that strong plane, shoulders rolling forward when she kisses along the hard ridges of his abdomen. ]
[ it does something to him to hear his own name on her lips. heβd taken on βpeteβ for as long as heβs been here, the identity known to so few that even he might be primed to forget it if he lingers in the town long enough. but somehow, heβd been urged to tell her, originally in the wake of the persuasive pollen, yet with the confidence that heβd have ended up telling her anyway.
sometimes, he wonders just how much heβll share, whether heβll go beyond the mere mention of his lost family to tell her his faults for their deaths, his mistakes from prior that had led to the endless cycle of death and destruction that came afterwards. his skull vest still sits in a box under a mess of clothes in the corner of his closet, packed away for the inevitable time heβll have to give birth to the βpunisherβ again; if he tell her those ghost stories, it wonβt be anytime soon, especially not tonight when that life doesnβt matter while heβs coated in her lips, snatching his from her breast to curl tongue and teeth together again for something hungrier, more urgent.
heβs βfrankβ tonight, and itβs with her that he gets to be himself, bare skin in more than just the slide of his shirt as itβs peeled off of his arms, that sturdy muscle wasting no time in grasping back at her sides, stroking at her hips when she rocks against him, a rasping groan at the roll that teases that trapped length.
but her lips secure across his chest with his distraction, and his head tosses back against the couch cushion, deep breaths that leave the expanse of his abdomen rolling with exhales and inhales against her mouth as she wanders, every wet caress along a scattered scale leaving him with a shiver thatβs far more pleasure than pain. ]
[ she's kept his secret, as long as he's shared it with her, unwilling to spill it to anyone even if there's a rare chance they could use it against him somehow. whatever had been manipulated over the course of that afternoon, most of their actions steered by the pollen's influence, that confession had been real and she hasn't forgotten it since, even if the circumstances surrounding its reveal hadn't been fully linked to them and their weaknesses.
but this, right now, is, and regardless of whatever else they decide to share with each other or don't, there's no taking this away, nothing they can point to as a driving force outside of their own mutual desires. she's kept her own secrets closer to the vest since that afternoon, had stopped just shy of spilling what that "accident" in her childhood had truly consisted of. and she hasn't admitted to any of her sins since then, the origins of her ghosts, the list she keeps track of in her head. maybe he'll learn those truths eventually, but for now she'll set them aside and pour herself into his hands, into his mouth instead.
it's heady, to feel his arousal teased against her; he's hard enough for her to feel him through the denim of his jeans and her sweatpants alike, tempting enough for her to coax it out further with another swirl of her hips, another firming roll.
but she's also distracted with the taste of his skin beneath her lips; momentarily emboldened, she drags her tongue along an indent between muscles, humming when that patch of him twitches beneath her and repeating the slow flicking. her hands aren't content to steady where they are, though, and she uses fingers of both to find the end of his belt, tugging it back through the buckle and open, jerking his hips up with her ready inclination to uncover more. ]
[ the streak of her tongue, tracing the lines of him, draws out an extended sigh, and she earns the unfiltered hum of a moan. the scars donβt hurt tonight, but every time her lips ghost over one, he swallows, a faint shudder showcasing the truth of those subtle sensitivities. perhaps heβll tell her the origin of each some day, one by one, but it seems almost enough to let her in this close, an entirely new brand of unguarded entry in the way her mouth moves against him.
and as she does, heβll tangle his fingers in those drapes that hang over her shoulders, encircling a tail of hair around his hand to bundle it at the back of her head as he gently holds her there, fingertips massaging the tender height of her nape.
but everything continues to intensify, and he knows sheβs aware of that low heat, crammed in his jeans; her hips move at just the right angle, as the weight of her presses down to soothe it through more of a promising tease, the gesture leaving him nipping hard at his lip, already rendered pink from the consistency of succulent kisses.
working to unbuckle his belt, she leads the process of undressing him, and itβs in following her lead that he lifts his hips, bucking them up for that insistent drag of his jeans, chucking them down across his thighs between the entrapment of hers, a slightly awkward angle that catches a brief chuckle from him before heβs refocused, too distracted by the hardly subtle erection thatβs striving for attention. ]
[ it's a sound she's only heard in fits and starts before, that louder, unchecked moan from deep in his throat that makes her reflexively press her hips that much more firmly into his, a mere echo of what she really wants to get to but still surprisingly satisfied by even the delightful friction that ensues, fabric rubbing between her thighs with the movement and making her whimper right after him.
and she hasn't been able to ignore those little touches, small strokes of his fingers over her β like the kneading against the back of her neck as he holds her hair away from her face, something tender in it apart from the unconscious act of wanting to see more of her. the truth of it is that she wants him to watch her too, watch her tongue stripe temporary, shining lines on his skin, watch her lips purse around a fainter scar. the small thrill makes her shoulders roll with another shiver long before she starts working his belt open.
and here's where she'll have to pry herself away, not simply to give him the necessary room to shuck off his jeans but to remove more of those hindering barriers from herself; she braces her hand against the cushions and then rises up to stand over him, something soft in her gaze too even while she hooks thumbs beneath the waistband of her sweats and urges them down past hips and thighs, stepping out of the puddle that forms around her ankles.
heat rises in her face as she watches him, half-dressed, hair mussed and lips swollen from their kissing, and the temptation to pinch herself is there β because she's got to be dreaming this, she has to, this is always where it stops, right around here. she'll wake up in her bed alone with an empty ache and fall back into dreamless sleep, and she'll have to see him all over this town and pretend like he doesn't mean more to her than he does. but she's waiting for a moment that isn't going to happen and she can't remain separated this long without leaning down to tease her lips over his as he divests himself of yet another layer. ]
[ the only moments he finds where he can take his eyes off of her is when they shutter close during brief intervals between lapping streaks, the consistent swipe of her tongue leaving him rendered almost helpless even as he tries to hold his gaze, to watch her mouth part to kiss those darker parts of him, scarred skin holding reminders of a world entirely separate from the one they create here β quiet company save for those wordless whispers under the soft glow of a lamp.
but he never steers his gaze when she rises to step in front of him to strip away the sweats from her legs, even as he drags his jeans down over his calves after kicking off his boots, soon following with the slow removal of his boxer briefs, a final layer that leaves him fully bare in her eyes, naked skin settled there on her sofa.
her kiss is the only distraction, thumb and index tucking beneath her chin to offer a returning press of his lips with plenty of intent, tender passion even in these smaller stolen moments in between. because every one of it matters, not knowing what this'll be by the time the sun rises, or even if tomorrow is the day they finally find a way out of this cursed town. whatever he's said about his rush in wanting to leave, he feels none of that now, insistent on taking all the time they need to familiarize with their tastes, their touches.
even when he ducks his head away from his mouth to lean in low against her belly, the press of peppered kisses circling that swirling button and tracing the line of her pelvic bone, it's with a careful and steady pace, breathing soft against her skin as his indexes hook into the side straps of her underwear, fingertips offering a soft ghosting caresses to her thighs as he guides the fabric down to the floor. ]
[ the silence outside these walls, beyond the borders of this old house, makes her hearken back to memories of the homestead β evidence of nothing and no one for miles, nothing that can intrude on their safe harbor here, no interruptions by the chaos that frequently lurks out there in the darkness. but inside, illuminated by the switches she'd haphazardly flipped during her earlier navigation through the layout, it's just skin and shadows, the latter cast over the depths of his features when he shifts his weight, brings his hips forward, peels off pants and briefs and leaves himself bare.
her tongue snakes out to wet her lips, mouth suddenly gone dry, but the sight of him quenches her, makes her all too aware of the way she smarts for him, that pulsing at the junction of her thighs now perfectly timed with her quickened heartbeat.
his taste still lingers on her lips when he dips down to kiss over the arches of her hips, the flat of her belly, and she can't help thinking about the joke she made once about how much she'd kicked her own ass getting back into shape but now she almost regrets it, those physical remnants of the life she once harbored inside her all but nonexistent, no sign that it was ever really real even if she occasionally recalls the ghost twinges of those labor pains.
her hand finds a hold in his hair again, cradling him there against her abdomen, skin twitching under the light brushing of his kisses, the subtle tickling lifting a chuckle and then a soft sigh from her as she shifts, steps out of the lace that whispers past her ankles. she wants the firm arching of his body beneath her own, wants to know the way they fit together, wants to lose herself in something that maybe might be worth it, and when she resumes her seat astride his thighs, it's partly to savor that moment before joining, when she can draw herself flush against him and bite back another shudder at getting to feel him this close. ]
[ this shouldn't feel as natural as it does; he remembers rolling his eyes when he'd heard her voice in the diner β here's looking at you, kid β and he pieced together her identity as the talkative woman who'd almost convinced him out of his stubbornness in those moments of limited senses. yet, it all seems to make sense when she curves herself in over his lap, naked skin joining naked skin and he can feel the heat from the back of her thighs emitting so closely to his own. maybe he should have realized she'd be the one to chip away at his layers when his fingers had lingered over that button, temptation making him wonder about her, instincts telling him there was more to her than his initial conclusions β and she'd proven it again and again and again.
it makes all the sense for him to see her lips and want to kiss them with soft caresses, sweetness contrasting amongst all the urging heat that surges within the heavy weight between his legs. somehow, it isn't merely about that, not with them, and his mouth lingers near hers, nose dipping tenderly into the soft swell of her cheek, his whisper remains low for her ears alone, even if there isn't another shred of shared company around them for miles. ]
Wynonna. [ not judy. not earp. simply wynonna, in the same way that he remains frank tonight, both of them settling on that vulnerable exposure that leaves them breathless in one another's arms.
when he kisses her again, it's hard and firm, but not forceful, merely passionate, and his fingers roll up along her hips, stroking gently at those curves until he can find that steady purchase at her back, palms bracing her closer against him, heat felt all over in waves and possibly a little of something else, lodged safely but hidden in the cave of his frantically beating heart. ]
[ she can't pinpoint the exact beat she realized he was something more β not just that gruff exterior that occasionally offered hints of greater depths from behind that peering gaze that studied her from over the rim of a mug of diner coffee. maybe she'd found it in the smiles he'd tried to hide at first, the crinkling at the corners of his eyes that had given him away, attempting to deny that reaction with a shake of his head. maybe it was when she realized she didn't so much mind the nicknames they'd given each other, harry and judy and every other teasing remark volleyed back and forth. either he'd indulged her in that repartee or she'd unearthed a tendency that had been buried inside him, along with the other softness that had soon followed.
but there'd been no big revelation, no greater indication that they were meant for this, not him with his face nudged gently to hers, her eyes falling shut as she just allows herself to rock against him, building on her want of him, finding the angle that slots them together for something that teases as much as satisfies in its own right β and he says her name, and her heart leaps into her throat.
she can't say anything back right away, and thank god she doesn't have to because he kisses her soon after that, muffles the soft yet urgent sounds she makes when he coaxes her further on top of him; she hasn't shifted to take him inside her yet but it'll be any moment now if the ease of soft-slick skin along his hardness is any sign, building rolls across her frame that leave her panting, desperate and vibrating. ]
Frank. [ she can utter that name here, in the space between their mouths, breathe it into that kiss, and in that same beat guides him into her own wet and welcoming heat, gasps at that gentle, gradual infiltration, and drapes her body over his with a steady turn of hips until he's fully buried. ]
[ even the simpler sensations leave him shaking there beneath her weight, a slow gradual roll of their hips together that convey the exposure of their needs while still holding back from that inevitable step. he can feel the depths of her slickness, that slippery tease that moves against him and he sighs at her mouth, breaths heavy and audible with those soft pants, the whisper of his name caught suddenly between their kiss.
whatever the larger picture is, he knows he'll overthink it later; he'll come to realize sometime that this is more than he can hope for, that he's kidding himself to linger into something so genuine and warm, to bask in this with someone who softens him into a portion of the man he once was, so unreserved and open to greater chances. he knows the other corner of frank castle will remind him that he needs to focus on what he's already decided is his set course, the duty he's assigned himself to for the long run.
tonight, he'll drown in soft kisses and warm whispers and pretend this is enough β for now, it is.
his forehead tilts into hers when she adjusts the angle, providing the guidance that finally brings them together, a slick press that has him groan low against her mouth as his palms hold tight to her hips, not pressing her down to him but offering that support as she sets the pace in taking him in to his entirety, until there's nothing left but their hips nudged close together and all that's left is heat and their whimpered sounds urging for more.
he'll kiss her once more before his face finds a spot against her throat to hide his flustered cheeks, warm and ready as he holds her, soft strands on his chin tickling the space of her collar. ]
[ she hadn't realized she would want it this much, not until she literally had it within her reach, him naked and hard and ready beneath her and her showing those signs of mutual need β the arch of her spine, the undulation of her hips, the hard clutch of fingers into the brawn of his shoulders before her hands sweep into his hair again when he hides his face against the curve of her neck, cradling him there against her while she affords them those few lengthy seconds to just breathe into one another, skin flushed with new warmth.
and maybe the option of second-guessing will make itself known later, once the heat of the moment has died off to embers, once the sensation of his arms around her is a distant memory, once she starts to forget what his mouth tastes like. she'll start to question whether this was the right move, if they deserve a tonight in the long run when it means sacrificing those parts of them that can still claim friendship. because there won't be any going back, not after this.
and right now, if she has to ask herself, she's not planning on giving this up.
he unravels her a little more, with his mouth on hers, the press of him so deep inside her, and she has to steady herself in his lap, in his hold before she can even think of moving, but she gathers him close to her when she finally starts, that steady tense and relax of her thighs that will inevitably chase a more intense peak but only seeks to savor for the time being. now, she wants to find out how they move best together, to bask under the exploring slide of his hands and murmur wordless sentiments against the crown of his head. ]
[ something will change after this, and thereβs no guarantee itβll be for the better. he hadnβt wanted company those first few weeks, hadnβt wanted any attachments, but frank had never had much choice in the matter, how with laura bypassing locks and security to find sanctity in the space of his apartment and wynonnaβs name was a regular buzz on his phone with requests for a fix-up. admitting it had been the difficult part, but he never disguised the value he had for either of them once heβd embraced it, that heβd seek to help them through the coming trials of this town with either his strength or simple support, an offer extended to a few others locked in the same circumstances.
heβd wonder if it had been a risk when he kissed her that first time, and even following the awkward realization of what the pollen had done, theyβd confronted it head-on, labeling the accident as such and carrying on with that understanding.
but thereβs no dragging up excuses when their clothes lay in a messy bundle on her living room floor, when her naked thighs are draped over his and sheβs beginning to sway her hips to provide those gradual movements that cause him to shift against her from inside, the friction light and easy. thereβs no ignoring the way they whisper their names softly against their mouths, against their skin, as he mutters hers once more at her throat with a soft groan to convey the pleasure in the sensation when she rocks.
he wonβt forcibly thrust up inside of her, but when a rhythm begins to form, heβll glide his hips slowly to meet hers, a gradual process of learning their bodies, all while his fingertips seek to do the same, roaming over her thighs and gently gripping her backside, only when she forms that sway and heβs tilting up to nudge uncoordinated kisses to the underside of her chin, breathing parallel to the way they move. ]
[ she'd envisioned connections happening, having to rely on others to make her time here at least somewhat bearable; she knows the reverse of that, of trying to go it alone for far too long and the price she'd paid for independence. she's always been stronger when she's part of a team, even moreso when she finds people who can lend their strength to hers, and she'd sensed early on that he was someone she wanted to align herself with β not just for the purposes of cheap home repair, but because he'd be able to have her back when shit went sideways. they'd offered that to each other, after going through enough to make that kind of promise a necessity.
but she hadn't pictured something along these lines, her being lured in by desire that isn't completely fueled by surface-level attraction, that invisible tether that seemed to draw them into each other's orbit no matter how many times they tried to inhabit their own spaces, especially after that long afternoon in his bed. and eventually, after so many instances of finding him anyway, she'd been forced to stop trying.
she can't hide her body's natural responses to him, slick and willing, and if she'd imagined any hesitation, any halting or awkwardness, it dissolves altogether in the rhythm they find, the simultaneous push and pull, fingers and mouths and skin. her nails rake across his scalp again, a combing that doesn't aim to score too deeply but one she can't completely refrain from as that tension begins to find root deep within her center.
she tips her chin down, tilts her head and then her mouth is on his again, soft and intermittent brushes, not lingering enough to stifle any sounds but enough for her to relearn their fit; her tongue traces the definition of his lips and then lazily teases in, licking deep, and she accelerates to a smooth rocking over him, a moan punctuating every harder guiding of her hips down onto his. ]
[ heβs used to his detachments, of letting things shift away through his fingers without any firm grip to clutch them still. but with the gripping press of his palms, sloped over the small of her back and climbing as she rolls with harder motions, she feels solid within his arms, in more than just the physical. he hadnβt expected the consistency of her, the regular routine presence, either on the line with her sassing comments or across the table at the diner as she failed in her stealth of snagging fries from his plate.
most of that had been blamed on the size of the town, small enough to run into any face more often than not, but somewhere along the way he might have started making excuses β agreeing to her nonchalant invitation to chloeβs party, offering to maintain repairs on her house, slipping into the theater with her.
frank had long denied it, but somewhere along the way heβd stunted his attempts at resisting her, reaching out with open hands and clutching tight when sheβd slipped in close enough.
and with the slippery teases of her tongue, messy wet stripes that line his lips and tangle with that slick muscle of his own, he gives her his all, every part of himself peeled back for these moments they have together. ] God. [ he mutters it as more of a strained sound than anything in their half-effort kiss as she moves, hips bucking up from the couch to follow that faster motion, breaths leaving him in a steady panting. ]
[ there's always been a part of her that's tried to get under his skin. maybe not like this, with clothes tossed in various directions around the living room and her body now sticking to his with the heat that rises up between them, makes her breathe a little rougher with the effort she's giving to this, to riding him β but she's definitely aimed for knocking him off-kilter, either with words designed to goad a response or breezy innuendo that doesn't allude to any real follow-through.
if she's ever planning on being honest with herself about this, she'd have to admit that somewhere between that first blinded meeting and now, he'd found his own way past her walls, too.
she bends over him, the tension within her starting to unravel β and even if she's still chasing her release now it's mere minutes from her grasp, only so long she can maintain the rolling momentum of her hips without coming undone, but she doesn't want to get there until she knows she can lead him over that edge right alongside her and so she slows before that pressure builds to bursting, walks herself back, steadies with a shuddering exhale over his mouth.
it's been just long enough that she's aching for this now, but she'll be damned if she's not going to make the most of what she's got while she's got it. and that includes him, even if her thighs shake while she tries not to fall apart too fast. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
action;
she is reminded of his latest wounds, though, when the touch of her fingers skims closer to that place where an emergency cauterization had seared flesh closed, sensitive to even the slightest press of bandages and she wonders how it looks now. she's curious enough to let her hand slip out from that open gap in his shirt and work open a few more buttons beneath, guiding the sides open with another roaming caress of her palm as the fabric catches on the ridges of her knuckles.
her weight is pressed more definitively against his by the time she breaks the kiss again, backpedals to slow, pursing pecks of her lips to his until she can trust herself enough to maintain more space β and then she touches him there, those twin wounds perfectly sized to the claws she'd seen emerge from between laura's knuckles, silent and seamless with only a few drops of blood left where they open up the skin. ]
Do they still hurt? [ her fingers stroke across the scars, darker than the others she's seen on his body, those times he hadn't necessarily shied away from her gaze but hadn't wanted to give her more opportunities to glimpse them β and she looks from where her hand rests on him up to his face, the shine of their kisses residing on his mouth, and she wants him all over again. ]
action;
he finds her eyes settled on him, unable to tell if she's asking for a vocal response, or if she's peering to see if she can decipher the answer by merely watching the motion of his expression as she traces the wound.
he doesn't hiss, doesn't react beyond catching that breath. ] They all usually do. [ it's a quiet answer, implication highlighting not only those burnt claw marks but the scattered decoration of other molten skin, set there by mixes of bullets and blades, some more damaging than others. in the same way coffee had become a filler to drown away those sensations of exhaustion and tired limbs, he'd unintentionally found a replacement for physical pain in the way of deeper scars, most often in the shape of that photograph she'd once had to put back together with scotch tape. it was easy to ignore stinging aches no matter how often they came, if the nightmares were louder.
guiding his fingers to rest over hers at his shoulder, stroking gently along the peaks of her knuckles, he doesn't steer his eyes away from hers, foreheads nudging together from a slight tilt as he whispers, ] But it doesn't hurt right now.
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but she can't scar, hasn't, not since before she became the heir, the only silver-light marks on her body reminders of an unsupervised childhood growing up on the homestead, getting into trouble. the line across her knee, where she'd ripped it open climbing on the tractor in the barn. the smaller pit at her hairline from where willa had chucked an old doll at her head. everything that hurts her now fades into nothing, and the only things she has left to show from it are her ghosts, her regrets, her list of names.
he doesn't flinch under her touch, doesn't pull away, his hand shifting to cover hers instead β and she's mindful of what any kind of pressure might do to an area that's still sensitive, fresher than the others, but her fingers do curve over the firm round of his shoulder then, as he traps them there with that slow sweeping.
and she doesn't answer him out loud β because she wouldn't know what to say even if she could β his face disappearing from her sight when her eyes flutter shut and her mouth finds his again, a certainty in that kiss now that maybe hasn't been there before, an assurance that isn't propelled forward by pollen wafting through an open window and into their senses. she kisses him as she finally shifts forward, settles herself anew on top of him with her knees pressed into the cushions on either side of his hips, until she can ease her weight down across his lap, fingers sliding into his hair to cup the back of his head. ]
action;
but there's been moments, smaller pockets of time, where he can set them down, not to forget, but to accept, to balance it alongside something that can give him a new weight to fill those slots, something that isn't stained with blood and gunpowder. he finds them when he's working up a makeshift recipe with laura in the kitchen, testing out just how much time between flipping the pancake batter and tossing in fruits for flavor. he finds them showing diamruid smarter angles to swing a bat to send those pitches flying further. he finds them when chloe asks him to look after the dog for a few hours, which ends up feeling more like a given favor than one for him to grant when she looks at him with soft eyes that tell him she's remembering an old friend with his face.
many times, though, he'll find them when wynonna's laugh spreads so wide she's left grinning long in the extended seconds after, when she's overly proud of a joke that's less funny in its delivery and more in her joyful reaction to it. or when she prods him hard on the ribs with a sharp elbow as they sit side by side in a movie theater while he mocks the old timey dialogue on the screen. or when she pretends to be listening when he attempts to teach her how to fix a clogged pipe so he doesn't have to come back and take it care of it so often even when they both know better.
he finds it now when she says nothing with words and instead covers his mouth with more firm kisses, and the way their lips find one another again and again so easily as they did the hours they lay in his bed make him wonder if the pollen ever really had an effect on them at all.
but he doesn't stay at her mouth, urged suddenly when she climbs upon his lap, thighs sliding together, to sink into the crook of her throat, a trail of kisses down the arch of her jawline getting him there. his breath falls heavy, hot, there on the outlines of bone at her collar, right until he's pressed more deeply against sensitive skin, seeming to find himself content in that solid new home for his lips β until his fingers curl at the hem of her shirt and guide it slow up her sides, aiming to tug it overhead. ]
action;
and they'd continued to bump into one another, either by choice or coincidence, those encounters doing everything to bring them to this moment here, with her chin tipped up against his mouth and his breath ghosting hot across her skin, making her thighs squeeze reflexively on either side of him, her fingers clutching harder at his scalp.
she thinks of the day she'd confronted him at his place, his eyes gently observing her from behind a bear's snout, a pair of fuzzy and rounded ears twitching at the sound of her lecturing him on why he shouldn't have kissed her at the height of chloe's party, drinks and drug zooming through her bloodstream and making her more willing to guide her mouth against his.
and she thinks about the promise they'd made each other while tangled up in his bedsheets β that maybe while they're here, they don't need to keep running, can just stop and exist here, and she wonders if this counts at all, that for however long they fall into this warm, wanting embrace it means neither of them has an out in mind. leaving is the furthest thing from her thoughts now when his kisses descend over the curve of her neck and his hands coax up the bottom of her shirt; she lifts her arms slowly, enabling him to roll it further, past her shoulders, her hair tumbling down once freed from the collar.
it's no more uncovered than how he'd seen her at the party, nearly the same amount of skin exposed, but it's different when she anticipates his mouth on her, his gaze roaming, and a more vivid color rises in her cheeks and the top of her chest as she peers to him now, suddenly nervous. ]
action; subtle nsfw probs
but somehow his gaze presents a softer affection, one conjured by the notice of her flushed cheeks, caught even beneath the fallen hair there, and he reaches up with both hands to tuck those strands away, palm soothing a caress where he knows the deep press of her dimples before reeling her in for a kiss.
somehow he manages to offer something more tender despite the urgency he feels to taste her even further, to guide his tongue back into her mouth; instead, it's a gentle press, almost chaste, before giving their noses a soft brushing stroke. ] Y'know, we don't have to. [ it's a soft offer, final words to give her that opportunity to reconsider where they're inevitably steering this fast moving train. that first time, he'd kissed her on his own whim, selfishly acting on his spontaneity and bearing the consequences (quite literally) when she'd scolded him afterwards. the second was under a cloud of pollen which skewed both of their certainty as to how much of those kisses had been by their own personal choice. ]
Anything you want. [ he wants to make sure that despite whatever impulses cue him forward, this time he intends to leave the choice in her hands. to take every kiss, every touch, and decide whether to run with it, or turn tail in the chance that this may leave her in regret when the faint taste of whiskey fully clears. ]
action; spot the nsfw
she's predicting the return of his mouth to her, exploratory hands; she isn't planning on the slow sweep of hair back from her face, her shoulders, and the tender urging of his lips, a peck that doesn't venture deeper before his nose nudges into hers and he offers the soft assurance that this doesn't have to go any further than she wants it to. and for what feels like a small infinity, even though it probably only lasts for a few seconds, she just looks at him with a burgeoning wonder, head tilted into the slide of his palms across her jaw.
because for the longest time, she thought she'd had him pegged a certain way when they'd first met, careful words and guarded smiles, measured reactions to even her most blatant humor, to a degree where it always felt like a personal satisfaction whenever she'd provoke more than a small chuckle from him. he'd expressed his appreciation for her help in reeling him back to himself from the precipice of pure animal fury, and there'd been shades of it then, depths in his gaze, a greater softness that she wasn't prepared to handle. but she'd found her axis tilting towards him right there in his damn kitchen, the air holding something heavier and more meaningful before she'd ultimately broken free.
and sitting here now, confronted with that look again, she finally gives in, as if all it's taken is him telling her she has a choice to make her realize what she wants. no more backpedaling, no more paralyzing indecision, and she can't even undercut it with a lame joke either. her hand resumes that slow slide through his hair, soothing strokes that comfort her too, and she drifts in close enough for the tip of her nose to bump his, exhaling shakily. ]
You. [ don't ask her to explain what it's going to look like moving forward, if they're even going to have anything beyond tonight; she's not thinking that far ahead, not considering anything but the man whose arms are around her and whose mouth she returns to again, sealing her decision in that yielding kiss. ]
action; definitely nsfw now
and itβs exactly that which he earns, tenderness as he tilts her with his palm, turning his own head for that sought out deepening. with the curl of his tongue within her mouth to meet with hers, he echoes a low rumble, his own wordless response to being wanted, even if only for however long they embrace it tonight. because for whatever reason heβd fallen into this bizarre trap, sheβd twisted him into knots from the early seconds in which heβd only heard her voice, banter exchanged with useless trivia but easing him into softening those tender cracks of his skin, a subtle effort that had its long term effects with every meeting that followed, casual conversations across the diner table that had inevitably brought them about to that first kiss as their bodies shivered wet and cold.
but everything about this is warm, heat exchanged passionately from mouth to mouth, eagerly now that any remnant of uncertainty has been vanquished for good; if sheβs sure of it, then he wonβt consider any other sense of logic that points to the flaws of this entanglement.
when he leaves her mouth again, itβs to seek out that original perch of skin heβd originally intended to taste, lips pursing softly at the center of her collar, peppering kisses that shuffle the soft hairs of his face across her chest in subtle ticklish caresses. and then his mouth parts to massage the soft flesh at the height of her breast, just above the fabric that conceals the rest of it, as his hand curves to her back, stealthily finding the clasp to undo with careful fingers. ]
action; bow chicka bow nsf-wow
the whiskey is still strong on his lips, passed between them in the tangling of tongues, the slow rhythm they find themselves in that quickens in small increments, unhurried regardless of the later hour. it's a taste she wants to get drunk on, sinking into the guidance of his hand along the side of her face, gentle and cradling, and she gives voice to a soft, breathless sound alongside the groans that pitch lower, deep in his throat.
her fingers are a temporary flurry between them, only working to thumb open the remainder of the buttons that hold his shirt closed, but she won't get as far as peeling it off his shoulders, only in parting the sides across his front before the band of elastic across her back snaps apart when the clasp gives way, the straps easing forward by gravity and a subconscious roll of her body before she flings the whole thing aside. she hasn't extricated herself from his lap yet, unable to find a good excuse to pry herself away for too long, and his mouthing over the curve of her breast, those mounds rendered softer and heavier ever since alice, stills her completely, a shiver coursing up the length of her spine to make those sensitive buds draw up taut from new exposure, from arousal, from awareness.
and she hasn't found a reason for her hand to slip out of his hair yet, using those strands for purchase now while his lips navigate all that bared territory, warm skin aching for touch, the rasp of his beard an added friction that would make her knees weak if she wasn't already straddling him. ]
action; nsfw
when heβs left with nothing but the bare presentation of her breast, he parts his lips to dampen the nipple against a slippery tongue, already rendered so alert even as he encircles wet muscle around the pink skin, letting his breath further heat over the skin.
but somehow itβs the grip of her fingers that rouse him all the more, that rhythmic stroke combing through waved curls and massaging over his scalp. it draws him even further against her, so close that he wonders if itβs her heart he hears beating or his own, a persistent stamping in his own chest.
his fingertips roll across the now fully naked stretch of her spine, smoothing down vertically until they curve out to her hips, securing her weight down against him, nestled tightly within the confines of her thighs, where his own arousal spurs into a more solid form. ]
action; basically just nsfw from this moment on
and she hasn't been able to think through the act of having to peel herself away to remove those bottom layers, cotton and lace that still hinder more of her skin from his. she can't think about much of anything when he's letting his lips lavish over those parts of her that have been hidden from everything for all this time β sight, touch, all of it.
her quietly exhaled moans are breathed across his hairline when she reflexively rocks into him, and it's his name that his efforts prompt. his name, not the one he'd given her all those months prior.
she's caught up in it enough that she isn't focused on anything else, any other sounds save the ones emanating from him, the ones she prompts, the ones he elicits, and through the layers that still remain she can perceive his own body's response, that hardness against the inside of her thigh, and the dull pulsing between her legs accelerates into something undeniable, proof of her need easily discoverable once she's further undressed. but she kisses him again (and again and again), and this time it's her moving, guiding the open sides of his shirt down and off his shoulders, baring the length of his arms for the smoothing of her palms before her mouth peels away from his to explore the broadest part of him, head ducking down for her to tease lips and tongue across that strong plane, shoulders rolling forward when she kisses along the hard ridges of his abdomen. ]
action; ππ
sometimes, he wonders just how much heβll share, whether heβll go beyond the mere mention of his lost family to tell her his faults for their deaths, his mistakes from prior that had led to the endless cycle of death and destruction that came afterwards. his skull vest still sits in a box under a mess of clothes in the corner of his closet, packed away for the inevitable time heβll have to give birth to the βpunisherβ again; if he tell her those ghost stories, it wonβt be anytime soon, especially not tonight when that life doesnβt matter while heβs coated in her lips, snatching his from her breast to curl tongue and teeth together again for something hungrier, more urgent.
heβs βfrankβ tonight, and itβs with her that he gets to be himself, bare skin in more than just the slide of his shirt as itβs peeled off of his arms, that sturdy muscle wasting no time in grasping back at her sides, stroking at her hips when she rocks against him, a rasping groan at the roll that teases that trapped length.
but her lips secure across his chest with his distraction, and his head tosses back against the couch cushion, deep breaths that leave the expanse of his abdomen rolling with exhales and inhales against her mouth as she wanders, every wet caress along a scattered scale leaving him with a shiver thatβs far more pleasure than pain. ]
action; nsfwww
but this, right now, is, and regardless of whatever else they decide to share with each other or don't, there's no taking this away, nothing they can point to as a driving force outside of their own mutual desires. she's kept her own secrets closer to the vest since that afternoon, had stopped just shy of spilling what that "accident" in her childhood had truly consisted of. and she hasn't admitted to any of her sins since then, the origins of her ghosts, the list she keeps track of in her head. maybe he'll learn those truths eventually, but for now she'll set them aside and pour herself into his hands, into his mouth instead.
it's heady, to feel his arousal teased against her; he's hard enough for her to feel him through the denim of his jeans and her sweatpants alike, tempting enough for her to coax it out further with another swirl of her hips, another firming roll.
but she's also distracted with the taste of his skin beneath her lips; momentarily emboldened, she drags her tongue along an indent between muscles, humming when that patch of him twitches beneath her and repeating the slow flicking. her hands aren't content to steady where they are, though, and she uses fingers of both to find the end of his belt, tugging it back through the buckle and open, jerking his hips up with her ready inclination to uncover more. ]
action; nsfw
and as she does, heβll tangle his fingers in those drapes that hang over her shoulders, encircling a tail of hair around his hand to bundle it at the back of her head as he gently holds her there, fingertips massaging the tender height of her nape.
but everything continues to intensify, and he knows sheβs aware of that low heat, crammed in his jeans; her hips move at just the right angle, as the weight of her presses down to soothe it through more of a promising tease, the gesture leaving him nipping hard at his lip, already rendered pink from the consistency of succulent kisses.
working to unbuckle his belt, she leads the process of undressing him, and itβs in following her lead that he lifts his hips, bucking them up for that insistent drag of his jeans, chucking them down across his thighs between the entrapment of hers, a slightly awkward angle that catches a brief chuckle from him before heβs refocused, too distracted by the hardly subtle erection thatβs striving for attention. ]
action; nsfw
and she hasn't been able to ignore those little touches, small strokes of his fingers over her β like the kneading against the back of her neck as he holds her hair away from her face, something tender in it apart from the unconscious act of wanting to see more of her. the truth of it is that she wants him to watch her too, watch her tongue stripe temporary, shining lines on his skin, watch her lips purse around a fainter scar. the small thrill makes her shoulders roll with another shiver long before she starts working his belt open.
and here's where she'll have to pry herself away, not simply to give him the necessary room to shuck off his jeans but to remove more of those hindering barriers from herself; she braces her hand against the cushions and then rises up to stand over him, something soft in her gaze too even while she hooks thumbs beneath the waistband of her sweats and urges them down past hips and thighs, stepping out of the puddle that forms around her ankles.
heat rises in her face as she watches him, half-dressed, hair mussed and lips swollen from their kissing, and the temptation to pinch herself is there β because she's got to be dreaming this, she has to, this is always where it stops, right around here. she'll wake up in her bed alone with an empty ache and fall back into dreamless sleep, and she'll have to see him all over this town and pretend like he doesn't mean more to her than he does. but she's waiting for a moment that isn't going to happen and she can't remain separated this long without leaning down to tease her lips over his as he divests himself of yet another layer. ]
action; nsfw
but he never steers his gaze when she rises to step in front of him to strip away the sweats from her legs, even as he drags his jeans down over his calves after kicking off his boots, soon following with the slow removal of his boxer briefs, a final layer that leaves him fully bare in her eyes, naked skin settled there on her sofa.
her kiss is the only distraction, thumb and index tucking beneath her chin to offer a returning press of his lips with plenty of intent, tender passion even in these smaller stolen moments in between. because every one of it matters, not knowing what this'll be by the time the sun rises, or even if tomorrow is the day they finally find a way out of this cursed town. whatever he's said about his rush in wanting to leave, he feels none of that now, insistent on taking all the time they need to familiarize with their tastes, their touches.
even when he ducks his head away from his mouth to lean in low against her belly, the press of peppered kisses circling that swirling button and tracing the line of her pelvic bone, it's with a careful and steady pace, breathing soft against her skin as his indexes hook into the side straps of her underwear, fingertips offering a soft ghosting caresses to her thighs as he guides the fabric down to the floor. ]
action; nsfw
her tongue snakes out to wet her lips, mouth suddenly gone dry, but the sight of him quenches her, makes her all too aware of the way she smarts for him, that pulsing at the junction of her thighs now perfectly timed with her quickened heartbeat.
his taste still lingers on her lips when he dips down to kiss over the arches of her hips, the flat of her belly, and she can't help thinking about the joke she made once about how much she'd kicked her own ass getting back into shape but now she almost regrets it, those physical remnants of the life she once harbored inside her all but nonexistent, no sign that it was ever really real even if she occasionally recalls the ghost twinges of those labor pains.
her hand finds a hold in his hair again, cradling him there against her abdomen, skin twitching under the light brushing of his kisses, the subtle tickling lifting a chuckle and then a soft sigh from her as she shifts, steps out of the lace that whispers past her ankles. she wants the firm arching of his body beneath her own, wants to know the way they fit together, wants to lose herself in something that maybe might be worth it, and when she resumes her seat astride his thighs, it's partly to savor that moment before joining, when she can draw herself flush against him and bite back another shudder at getting to feel him this close. ]
action; nsfw
it makes all the sense for him to see her lips and want to kiss them with soft caresses, sweetness contrasting amongst all the urging heat that surges within the heavy weight between his legs. somehow, it isn't merely about that, not with them, and his mouth lingers near hers, nose dipping tenderly into the soft swell of her cheek, his whisper remains low for her ears alone, even if there isn't another shred of shared company around them for miles. ]
Wynonna. [ not judy. not earp. simply wynonna, in the same way that he remains frank tonight, both of them settling on that vulnerable exposure that leaves them breathless in one another's arms.
when he kisses her again, it's hard and firm, but not forceful, merely passionate, and his fingers roll up along her hips, stroking gently at those curves until he can find that steady purchase at her back, palms bracing her closer against him, heat felt all over in waves and possibly a little of something else, lodged safely but hidden in the cave of his frantically beating heart. ]
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but there'd been no big revelation, no greater indication that they were meant for this, not him with his face nudged gently to hers, her eyes falling shut as she just allows herself to rock against him, building on her want of him, finding the angle that slots them together for something that teases as much as satisfies in its own right β and he says her name, and her heart leaps into her throat.
she can't say anything back right away, and thank god she doesn't have to because he kisses her soon after that, muffles the soft yet urgent sounds she makes when he coaxes her further on top of him; she hasn't shifted to take him inside her yet but it'll be any moment now if the ease of soft-slick skin along his hardness is any sign, building rolls across her frame that leave her panting, desperate and vibrating. ]
Frank. [ she can utter that name here, in the space between their mouths, breathe it into that kiss, and in that same beat guides him into her own wet and welcoming heat, gasps at that gentle, gradual infiltration, and drapes her body over his with a steady turn of hips until he's fully buried. ]
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whatever the larger picture is, he knows he'll overthink it later; he'll come to realize sometime that this is more than he can hope for, that he's kidding himself to linger into something so genuine and warm, to bask in this with someone who softens him into a portion of the man he once was, so unreserved and open to greater chances. he knows the other corner of frank castle will remind him that he needs to focus on what he's already decided is his set course, the duty he's assigned himself to for the long run.
tonight, he'll drown in soft kisses and warm whispers and pretend this is enough β for now, it is.
his forehead tilts into hers when she adjusts the angle, providing the guidance that finally brings them together, a slick press that has him groan low against her mouth as his palms hold tight to her hips, not pressing her down to him but offering that support as she sets the pace in taking him in to his entirety, until there's nothing left but their hips nudged close together and all that's left is heat and their whimpered sounds urging for more.
he'll kiss her once more before his face finds a spot against her throat to hide his flustered cheeks, warm and ready as he holds her, soft strands on his chin tickling the space of her collar. ]
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and maybe the option of second-guessing will make itself known later, once the heat of the moment has died off to embers, once the sensation of his arms around her is a distant memory, once she starts to forget what his mouth tastes like. she'll start to question whether this was the right move, if they deserve a tonight in the long run when it means sacrificing those parts of them that can still claim friendship. because there won't be any going back, not after this.
and right now, if she has to ask herself, she's not planning on giving this up.
he unravels her a little more, with his mouth on hers, the press of him so deep inside her, and she has to steady herself in his lap, in his hold before she can even think of moving, but she gathers him close to her when she finally starts, that steady tense and relax of her thighs that will inevitably chase a more intense peak but only seeks to savor for the time being. now, she wants to find out how they move best together, to bask under the exploring slide of his hands and murmur wordless sentiments against the crown of his head. ]
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heβd wonder if it had been a risk when he kissed her that first time, and even following the awkward realization of what the pollen had done, theyβd confronted it head-on, labeling the accident as such and carrying on with that understanding.
but thereβs no dragging up excuses when their clothes lay in a messy bundle on her living room floor, when her naked thighs are draped over his and sheβs beginning to sway her hips to provide those gradual movements that cause him to shift against her from inside, the friction light and easy. thereβs no ignoring the way they whisper their names softly against their mouths, against their skin, as he mutters hers once more at her throat with a soft groan to convey the pleasure in the sensation when she rocks.
he wonβt forcibly thrust up inside of her, but when a rhythm begins to form, heβll glide his hips slowly to meet hers, a gradual process of learning their bodies, all while his fingertips seek to do the same, roaming over her thighs and gently gripping her backside, only when she forms that sway and heβs tilting up to nudge uncoordinated kisses to the underside of her chin, breathing parallel to the way they move. ]
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but she hadn't pictured something along these lines, her being lured in by desire that isn't completely fueled by surface-level attraction, that invisible tether that seemed to draw them into each other's orbit no matter how many times they tried to inhabit their own spaces, especially after that long afternoon in his bed. and eventually, after so many instances of finding him anyway, she'd been forced to stop trying.
she can't hide her body's natural responses to him, slick and willing, and if she'd imagined any hesitation, any halting or awkwardness, it dissolves altogether in the rhythm they find, the simultaneous push and pull, fingers and mouths and skin. her nails rake across his scalp again, a combing that doesn't aim to score too deeply but one she can't completely refrain from as that tension begins to find root deep within her center.
she tips her chin down, tilts her head and then her mouth is on his again, soft and intermittent brushes, not lingering enough to stifle any sounds but enough for her to relearn their fit; her tongue traces the definition of his lips and then lazily teases in, licking deep, and she accelerates to a smooth rocking over him, a moan punctuating every harder guiding of her hips down onto his. ]
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most of that had been blamed on the size of the town, small enough to run into any face more often than not, but somewhere along the way he might have started making excuses β agreeing to her nonchalant invitation to chloeβs party, offering to maintain repairs on her house, slipping into the theater with her.
frank had long denied it, but somewhere along the way heβd stunted his attempts at resisting her, reaching out with open hands and clutching tight when sheβd slipped in close enough.
and with the slippery teases of her tongue, messy wet stripes that line his lips and tangle with that slick muscle of his own, he gives her his all, every part of himself peeled back for these moments they have together. ] God. [ he mutters it as more of a strained sound than anything in their half-effort kiss as she moves, hips bucking up from the couch to follow that faster motion, breaths leaving him in a steady panting. ]
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if she's ever planning on being honest with herself about this, she'd have to admit that somewhere between that first blinded meeting and now, he'd found his own way past her walls, too.
she bends over him, the tension within her starting to unravel β and even if she's still chasing her release now it's mere minutes from her grasp, only so long she can maintain the rolling momentum of her hips without coming undone, but she doesn't want to get there until she knows she can lead him over that edge right alongside her and so she slows before that pressure builds to bursting, walks herself back, steadies with a shuddering exhale over his mouth.
it's been just long enough that she's aching for this now, but she'll be damned if she's not going to make the most of what she's got while she's got it. and that includes him, even if her thighs shake while she tries not to fall apart too fast. ]
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