[ just as she gathers, he can't answer, won't answer, not as he keeps his lips pressed against her, massaging at her sensitive skin with firm rolls of his tongue. it's easy to sense the way her breathing shifts, every hitch that staggers to breathe in more deeply, encouraged all the more with the slide of fingers along longer strands of hair he hasn't bothered to cut since she granted her approval of the look.
he only manages to pull his lips free when she guides her hand low between them, the boundary of denim not enough to keep away the satisfaction of that touch, his hips instinctively rising to maximize the pressure she's already applying. ]
Feels good. [ he mutters in a whisper with a partial smile, meant to parallel the earlier tease. but any playfulness attempted is instantly replaced with the aroused sounds she seeks to command, the contact of his kiss a lighter brush now that he becomes distracted with deep groans.
his fingers press harder at her hips, a tighter grip at her flesh that could potentially bruise if he keeps them there long enough. but they won't still, not as a set of them roam inward to undo the button of her jeans, the dip of his hand finding the hem of her underwear and slipping within, fingertips direct on her skin when they stroke between her legs. ]
[ There's only so much she can do from this position while they're still partly clad, while her head is still swimming with the effects of the drug, while she's letting that high roll over her, and the energy his caresses stir within her originate at the places his hands and mouth roam over before rippling outward towards the tips of her fingers where she grasps at him. She squeezes reflexively, both at his hair and lightly between his thighs while he rises towards her touch with a corresponding creak of the truck bed beneath them at that shifting weight. ]
You can say that again. [ Another amused laugh becomes another softer whimper, and her knees slide to clutch at his hips when she faintly perceives his hand slipping beneath the waist of her jeans and beyond to touch her even more directly. ]
Oh God, that's cheating — [ Never mind that it's hardly that; she's not surprised he'd try to up the ante with a hand that nudges between her legs, and she's definitely not surprised by her ready response to him, the tilt of her hips and the need that leaves her slick to the touch. It's all she can do to remember her own objective, yanking his belt open with a little more strength than she intends, and her hand moves to work that final button open, but that's as far as she gets before his stroking stills her in a shuddering exhale. ]
I know. [ it's definitely cheating in a way, though there's no doubt that both of them benefit when he slips his fingers beneath all the layers that still keep her dressed below. he's hardly breathing harder from the grasping motions of her palm, but there's also an excitement in merely watching her react, in feeling the arousal that's pooled below, making it easy for him to slide those rhythmic strokes even if the angle itself for his hand isn't the most comfortable.
but he doesn't stop, working up those firm presses to coax that building urgency, right up until she tenses against him, breath shaky in the wind that breezes against them. ]
So do you. [ even if she's fully bare at the upper half of her body, there's still more to remove, and when he slips his fingers free, it's to instantly grip at her loosened jeans, only yanking them slight with the complex position. ] Get 'em off. [ however way she needs to maneuver for it. ]
[ Undressing means moving, and right now she really doesn’t want to move, that deeper touch finding her in a slow rhythm that sends her hips moving to meet it; she’s needy now and she doesn’t care if she might be too vocal about it, rougher breaths taken and exhaled from her lips towards his even if there’s no smoke that curves between them anymore.
But finally, finally she relents, rolling off of him with a groan that precedes her stretching out across the truck bed next to him; she’s forced to bring her knees up towards her chest and perform a hasty shimmying movement to fully get rid of the rest of her clothes, kicking them off in a denim puddle before she throws out a hand to curve a grip in one half of his shirt. ]
C’mere.
[ Because whatever she said about enjoying the view from up above before, she wants him covering her in his weight now, his hips lowered to hers and her mouth finding his without any hesitation; she’ll wrap her legs around him as she tries to shove his open jeans down enough to clear the way, too impatient to wait otherwise. ] I want you like this.
[ he groans in disappointment when she lifts herself away from him, despite being the one to breathed the command to her to undress. he does begin to take advantage of that brief moment to work a little on his own jeans, beginning to drag that and the layer beneath down his thighs, but she proves to be much faster and urgent than his own speed, already requesting his presence before he can barely tug down his clothing.
he doesn't hesitate, though, rolling his body to slide over her, finding that natural settlement above her and between her legs, lowering to find the natural progression of their meeting mouths.
she mutters her request to his lips and he sighs deeply, breath warm where he exchanges it with hers. ]
Wynonna. [ he whispers her name soft so that it's lost to her mouth, a strained noise following as he adjusts himself below, guiding his arousal to an already slick entry and kissing her amidst the gradual press. music still echoes softly from the radio and yet it isn't enough to disguise the soft rise of a low moan and panting breath. ]
[ No one's more disappointed about her having to relinquish her perch in his lap than she is, but it's a sacrifice she's fully prepared to make up for when she comes to the conclusion that she'd rather have him on her instead, and she doesn't have to wait long, a bit of fumbling in it while he eases over her and settles between her parted knees.
The fact that she's completely bared against his half-dressed state is sort of lost on her now; she's too far gone in this to care anyway, hair fanned out around her head in a dark spill of waves as she gazes up to him, finding his eyes in the moonlight.
And he's there before she can fully catch her breath, stealing the gasp that press of hips elicits with his own lips, swallowing that sound from her; she closes her eyes and loses herself in the sensation, rising warmth and slowly sated need and the syllables of her voice forged between their mouths.
But she won't rush him either, as he notches himself flush against her, her hands slipping beneath his shirt to roam over where he's bare beneath it, feeling the roll of his shoulders when they join; her eyes flutter open to find his face hovering right above hers and she nudges their noses together. ] God, I don't think I could ever get tired of this.
[ once he finds himself hovering above her, there's no reason to even bother with undressing further. every bit of skin that can press to her directly is already exposured, from the unbuttoned flaps that allow her fingers to roam the width of his chest to firm guidance of his hips to notch perfectly against hers.
and as urgent as she might have been to drag her to him, bypassing any need to even discard the rest of his clothing, there's still no rush to the sensations of simply basking in the connection, of gazing tenderly to one another as a melody plays softly near them, and their flush bodies provide them all the warmth they need to shield against the night's breeze.
his arm braces against the blanket beneath them, curving around her head to gently stroke at her hair, thumb brushing away messily tangled strands. ]
Good. [ it's such a quiet whisper, it could be mistaken for a mere breath as he grants her a gentle kiss, a soft gesture that comes with the slow roll of his hips, lazy movements for the moment that simply aim to feel her. ] Cause you're all I want.
[ She won't notice the difference between her state and his until they're beyond done — then, and only then, will it hit her that her impatience has once again caused her to not let him get as far as she has in stripping off her clothes, even though all that's required on his end is a little maneuvering and hasty shoving until she has him right where she wants him, sliding between her thighs and lowering his weight against her.
The truck bed provides enough of a barrier to shield them from a straight-on view, and if there's more of a chill in the air once the sun goes down, he covers her enough to keep her warm, the blankets beneath her recycling that heat brought on both by what they've inhaled and what they seek out now, sensations heightened by even the slightest movement.
She tilts her head into the touch of his hand, those fingers gliding through her hair while hers clutch at his shoulders in time with his hips; it's slow, maybe slower than she'd like if she was entirely sober but she's happy just to feel, relaxed beneath him while he moves, lips lazily finding his for those intermittent, grazing kisses. ] It's just you, you know. Only you.
[ months ago, he’d done anything to get out; now, he couldn’t imagine leaving. and while the town itself certainly hasn’t gained any necessary fondness from him, not with all that he knows it’s capable of, he’s found something that’s worth sticking around for. he’d told her he’d stay, for the sake of helping to figure out whatever it is that brought him here in the first place, but if there’s another task for him here, he doesn’t think of it now.
the only thing that occupies his mind is the slide of her lips, the way they can find a rhythm together no matter what the pace of their hips may be, whether urgency commands them as he expects it might soon, or whether it’s simply enough to be this close and simply let it last.
only you, and he can imagine that she deserves much better than that, and if this were any other moment, he’d argue that very fact. but he’s already debated it with her, and right now, it doesn’t matter. not as he rocks a little more firmly, draws himself back slow until he can glide back with ease, making himself flush on every roll so he can bury himself deep in her heat, the beat of her heart close to his own chest. ]
Only you. [ he repeats quietly, pressing his nose to her cheek as he picks up his pace, quiet grunts lost in every breath. ]
[ It's taken this long for her to realize that her motivation for staying doesn't just fall under the reason of wanting to help; it's more than that now, more a result of the people she's come to know and the ones she wants to protect, with him chief among them, even if she knows he'd be the first to tell her he's more than capable of taking care of himself.
They're a lot alike in that way, each firmly insistent that they don't need anyone else's protection but maybe knowing deep down that they're stronger when they're in each other's corner, that the threats of this town are less insurmountable when they're fighting side by side.
There's no haste, no intention to rush this now, the lazy slide of mouths mimicking the similarly unhurried rocking of bodies; she likes him this deep, the added grind offering a friction that she can feel in all the right places, and her fingers dig into his back a little more while she finally starts moving to meet him in a lift of her hips. ]
So good. [ She probably doesn't need to tell him that based on what he can hear in those breathless exhalations while she clings so tightly, but there's really no filter between her brain and her mouth right now and she's dangerously close to saying everything she's feeling in this moment, trying to find the right words to express this sense of safety and warmth and right — and she brings her lips to his again, kisses him before she can spout off and inadvertently ruin this somehow by saying something too soon. ]
[ it’s strange to have found routine here, taking up the gig at the diner and choosing to look out for laura on more official terms than he would have originally allowed himself. but nothing has been more a part of his every day here than she has, a familiar constant since his arrival, and a steadiness that keeps him from going unhinged here.
chaos thrives in this town, but wynonna supplies him with an odd kind of normal, someone to seek out when he tires, a face to find when he goes home, whether in early hours or the late ones. it’d been years since he’d had any of it, all of it snatched away in a single incident, and if anyone actually terrifies him in deerington, it isn’t the monsters, it isn’t the tricks, but the threat that he might just lose everything all over again.
that he’ll wake up tomorrow, and he’ll lose laura, and he’ll lose wynonna, all at once.
his body quivers a little, and credit could go to the remnants of the drug in his system, or the breeze of the night air, or even the overwhelming heat exchanged between them. but he kisses her harder then, not taking for granted that he has her here now, that whatever hell they might end up dealing with in the morning, they’ve still got this despite it. as he carries a firmer urgency in his thrusts, their lips don’t quite align as he moves, but he keeps their mouths close nonetheless, the whisper of her name there harsh and needy, as his palm clings a tight grip to her thigh, rocking into a harder grind. ]
[ She'd said as much to Yasha, once — there are probably worse places to be, without the people you love — and while it would never dawn on her to replace anyone from home, never occur to her to let anyone assume the position of chief in her heart other than her closest friends and family, she's found something like it here, found people to give her purpose, to make her new mission and her responsibility mean something. There are worst places to be than this, and she's been there, far from any sign of anything or anyone who mattered. Deerington reminds her of Purgatory in a lot of ways, a small town full of people who are just trying to find a sense of normal amidst the weird, fighting to have that life for themselves, and maybe she knows a thing or two about that.
None of it would be possible, she thinks, without him here with her now; they'd showed up around the same time, and he's as much a piece of her existence here as the rest of it — the job at the bar, the farmhouse slowly being patched up to some degree of livability, the people she recognizes every time she goes to the diner who know her as Wynonna and not the heir, not the disaster, not the reckless liability with a tendency for running her mouth. Okay, maybe that last part isn't completely true; he's likely to call her out for her inability to shut up, moreso than anyone else here.
It should say something all on its own that she's fallen silent apart from those desperate sounds, soft enough for his hearing to pick up with him nestled this close to her — and she crests, contentedly, one minute cradled at the precipice of her release and the next tumbling right into it with a hard tremor of her hips and a series of gasps, the furrow in her brow smoothing out as her lips broaden into a smile.
But he's still moving over her, in her, and she keeps herself tight against him, wanting to bring him there to that edge right after her as his own motions prolong everything she's feeling, makes something in her chest swell simply from the intimacy of the moment, from hearing her name on his lips over and over, the only time he ever uses it like this. ]
[ he isn’t sure how much he has waiting for him back home, for whatever home is to him, mostly anywhere he can find a night’s rest or at least stay a couple of days without worrying about getting shot. he’d gotten amy to florida and convinced karen to live a better life without him in it. letting himself disconnect from anyone that would only be in danger from being entangled in his own convictions, only the punisher awaited for him outside of this town.
yet, somehow he’s been able to reclaim the name of frank castle here, seen as more than just the skull painted across his chest, even if he’s recognized that it holds a corner of his identity just as well. he’d never considered the idea of settling down in deerington for long term, not exactly —but there are certain parts of it that hold more reason to keep him around than going back to far less.
and as she tenses against him, the reflexive stutter of her body that clues him in on her pleasure, he urges himself only closer, parted mouth braced to her cheek as he holds her through the brink of it, lets her ride it out against the continued insistent press of his hips. she clings to him, everywhere and down below, and it’s encouragement to chase his release with her. a steady panting falls to her skin, and he grunts deeply when he finds it, hips thrusting harder still, as fingers smooth across her throat while he kisses her lips.
when it all comes crashing down, he remains where he is, moving little save for the dipping of his forehead to hers, breathing softly as he lets the shared warmth between them wash over him. ]
[ And maybe this is where she's the most torn about all of it, rarely secure in any kind of knowledge about how long she'll be here — but she wouldn't have made it this far on her own, wouldn't have survived without forging connections to keep her rooted, to ground her on those days that have been harder than others, to add on to her own strength.
If she is on some kind of timetable, if she isn't meant to be here past a certain date, she'll deal with it then, and she might be kidding herself if she thinks experiencing that severance won't break her a little in the process, won't add to the cracks that already exist around her heart, but she'll get through it the same way she always has, by learning to lean on the people around her.
He's that support for her here, will be until he can't anymore, and even if they've got an expiration date ahead of them she's not willing to think that far into the future; she's definitely not projecting herself outward beyond him and them and this in the right here and now, with him warm and solid above her and cradling her close, touching her like she deserves to have something good in her life.
And she's there to hold him too, when he finally empties into her, fingers smoothing over his skin as he brings their faces together; she's still catching her breath, doesn't have the words yet, but she doesn't necessarily need to in a moment like this one, when she feels like she's floating above herself and he's the only thing keeping her tethered to solid ground. She presses her mouth to his from behind closed eyes, once and then again, murmuring dreamily when she finally manages to speak. ] You're something else.
[ he’s heard about it plenty, how in the same way that people can arrive without warning, they might just vanish in the same way. he’s heard it but hasn’t experienced it for himself, and every day he’s come to fear it more and more, the loss that inevitably awaits him. but he’s been well trained at putting on a brave face, at taking what he has and running with it, because ultimately, whatever he gets is what he deserves and he knows that none of this is ever meant to end well for him.
still, she shakes his plans, always coats him with the unexpected, including the very feelings that he’s come to have for her, the longing to see her each and every day that he wakes up in this town, and the peace he finds in her lips when she kisses him soft as she does now.
with a sigh and a shiver that he faults the wind for her, he tucks his arm besides her head, fingers stroking her hair as he lingers against her, settling into the warmth and dreading the eventual need to withdraw.
at her voice, he laughs softly, quiet but with an affectionate sound. ] Yeah? Hope that’s a good something. [ holding his smile, he nudges his nose to hers softly. ] And you’re — [ everything, he thinks, the word right there on his tongue. ] — very naked.
[ He likes to claim that she’s done a thorough job all on her own of catching him off-guard, derailing his plans when he least expected it, but the truth of it is that he’s unseated her too, worked his way past those shields of humor and teasing that she so often equips to ensure people remain a safe distance away. He’s seen her in those moments, but he’s also seen her stripped of her defenses, nothing left to keep her intact, even more vulnerable and exposed than she is laying right here without a single stitch of clothing on — and it hadn’t been enough to make him run.
So often she’s worried about whether she’ll be too much for him to handle, but she wakes up almost every morning to the soft press of lips against her cheek and a quietly murmured goodbye, the hairs of his beard tickling her face before he departs the room in a series of creaking steps on the staircase, soon followed by the sound of the screen door clapping shut. He’s there, in every way she never anticipated, and try as she might to convince herself otherwise, he’s never shown signs that anything could prompt him to leave her side.
Her grin widens and she drifts back to herself, head lazily lolling against the blankets beneath them as she slowly comes back to where they are and what they’ve just been up to — and his shiver seems to pass on to her then, her thighs reflexively squeezing at his hips as she nuzzles into his nose. ]
Yeah, looks like I am. [ Good thing she’s got her clothes in easy reach, but dressing means sacrificing his weight on her and she doesn’t want to surrender it yet, her fingers a steady slide across his spine. ] This might actually be the craziest thing I’ve done in this damn truck, and that’s counting the time I accidentally rolled it.
[ they hadn’t intended on unveiling so many parts of themselves, but they had, from the loss of his family to the truth of her daughter, from the gallons of blood on his hands to the ghosts that still lingered close behind her. so much had changed since they sat across from one another, literally blind to what was right in front of them, and while frank wouldn’t have guessed the girl who’d been a thorn in his side for his first couple of weeks here would be so important to him, he doesn’t bother denying it now.
especially not in his current state, the air of the afterglow leaving him relaxed above her, even as he keeps a forearm steady to support his weight. but it’s the press of her hips and the tickle of her nose that keeps him close, postponing any need to separate themselves so soon. ]
Well, we’re going two for two on our vehicles. What do you say we hit up that bike of yours next? [ obviously, a joke. but he’s not exactly blind to this accidental trend they’ve begun to set, either. ]
[ Maybe there'd been a metaphor in that whole blind dating adventure all along, how she hadn't been able to see the truth of who was sitting right in front of her until it was too late for her to deny it — and she can't even claim that she'd tried to keep it casual either, that first night he'd finally ventured over to her place to do more than tighten loose screws lasting well into the next morning. He'd made a place for himself nestled in close the same way he is now, laying over her with his fingers absently drifting through her hair, and she can feel how flushed her face must look, cheeks filled with warmth and expression wholly content.
Eventually, she slides herself away from him with a soft hiss of breath once they're fully separated, but rather than reach for her clothes to get dressed right away she reaches out to grab the edge of one of the blankets covering the interior of the truck bed, curling it around herself in her best imitation of a human burrito. ]
Mmm. You jest, but there's something about the idea of doing it on that gorgeous blend of steel and leather that might just get my motor running all over again. [ She can't keep a straight face even while she's saying it, though, sinking her teeth into her lower lip in an attempt to stifle her smirk. ]
Keep talking like that and I might just have to drag you over there to it myself. [ he breathes a low chuckle, lifting himself on his knees to give her room to shuffle away from him. he doesn't do much in adjusting his own clothes either, save for tucking himself back in his jeans, letting the open flaps of his shirt remain unbuttoned along his chest.
sliding besides her burrito body, he rests on his side, elbow keeping him slightly raised as he props himself up on his palm. it allows him to peer over her with an affection gaze, relaxed in both his body and his mind.
and he'd stay out here like this with her for hours if he could, satisfied for the quiet that still fills the space around them, save for another soft tune that plays on the radio. no threats, no interruptions, and there's a flutter that rushes through him that has a name he continues to avoid voicing.
but it's practically spoken in the brush of his fingers to her cheek, a light stroke that simply grazing her skin with his fingertips. his voice is a whisper, despite the lack of need for it in their continued privacy. ] You warm?
Promises, promises. [ Dimly, her skin still feels like it's humming with excess energy, whether it's the effects of the weed still working their way through her bloodstream or the afterglow that's settled into her body, leaving her hardly inclined to want to bother with something like putting her clothes back on right this second. She's tucked herself in pretty well anyway, securing the blanket around her middle but leaving her arms free as she rolls herself onto her side to face him, close enough for their knees to bump together. ]
Mmhmm. Downright toasty.
[ The slow slide of his fingers over the side of her face elicits a similarly paced tilt of her head as she leans into that touch, maybe even seeks out the further trajectory she knows he sometimes takes along her jaw toward the fall of her hair, and when she leans forward it's to fit her mouth to his with a soft hum. ]
I don't know about you, but — [ She doesn't finish her own thought before offering another kiss, a brief peck paired with a low chuckle. ] I really needed that.
[ of course his fingers wander, gliding up along the curve of her cheekbones for a light massage against her hairline before it flutters downward once more to trace the line of her jaw, a light press beneath her chin to encourage that tilt of her head that lands their lips together, the kisses brief but sought out all the same. ]
Yeah? [ with a light smile, he catches her lips again, lazy but determined to keep her mouth close to his, the tickle of his short hairs brushing at her skin. ]
What happened? That asshole boyfriend of yours put you on a dry spell? [ it's him, the asshole boyfriend. though if there's been anything "dry", it's only because frequency for this kind of thing doesn't work so well in light of numerous children running around and constant threats looming over them.
and maybe he doesn't even think about it when he uses the word "boyfriend", such a normality to it despite how little they've relied on labels. ]
[ It's hard to picture an instance when she wouldn't have been driven to initiate this kind of contact between them — but there had been a BD (Before Dating) stage once, with her often not realizing the unconscious desire to incline herself in his direction until she'd caught herself doing it multiple times over, a tilt of hips that brought her further into his space or those moments when he'd covered her hand with his own to offer sentiment or reassurance or gratitude, depending on the day.
Now, they're firmly embedded in AD territory and she does it all sometimes without even thinking about it — and this time, it manifests in her peppering his mouth with a series of kisses until she's next door to laughing again, especially when he engages her closely enough to tickle her face with his beard, leaving her to try and squirm away in retreat. ]
You know I don't — have any complaints — in that department — oh my God, you hairy man, quit it —
[ She weakly swats at the exposure of his chest with the backs of her fingers, knowing she's responsible for initiating this in the first place but forever underestimating his tendency to escalate the terms of war between them, and finally props herself up to sitting over him, bearing her weight against a palm pressed along his side. ]
Yeah, he's kind of an asshole, but he's my asshole. [ Beat. ] Wait, that came out wrong.
[ these natural habits have definitely been a progression towards what they are now; where once upon a time he'd been reluctant to be anywhere in her space. he remembers that instance in that cold shower where her fingers had brush gently against his chin, a tender touch that had jolted an instinct in him to kiss her that first time. the act has been repeated countless times since then, finding her lips and lingering close as he does now.
the difference is it comes with a wider smile, a rarer occurrence overall from the more stoic man, and yet the expression taking no effort at all when she conjures it as she swats back at him to fight over those coarser hairs around his mouth.
but he even manages to bark a fair laugh with her unintended humor, rolling onto his back when she guides herself over him, a hand rising to cease the sound from his lips, despite the smile still given away in the crinkled lines by his eyes. ] Jesus Christ.
[ wynonna earp, always something.
but his fingers find the smooth length of her hair, stroking lightly, voice softer. ] But you're right. I am yours.
[ Oh, don't worry, Frank; Wynonna's snorting at herself after that remark, briefly steering her gaze downward with a duck of her chin, her shoulders shaking before she spots the telltale sign of his amusement in the wrinkles that form on either side of his eyes, that undeniable proof that she's managed to tickle his funny bone even with the unintended awkwardness of her phrasing.
But she finds his gaze with her own shortly after that, turning her cheek against the curve of her own shoulder, her smile fading somewhat while the prominent dimples in her features continue to persist; fondness replaces amusement more and more, as the strains of another song quietly fill the otherwise silence that falls over them between his soft admission and hers.
She precedes it with an extra breath, like she needs to gather that air within herself for what comes next; she can only focus on the repetitive glide of his fingers through the ends of her hair for so long when it feels like her heart is living in her throat, and the sentiment tumbles from her, like it's been dangling on the tip of her tongue and only needed the right set of circumstances to make her brave enough to say it. ]
Hey. [ Here goes nothing, right? Nothing, but also everything. ] I — I kinda love you.
[ maybe a part of him suspected there was a chance of it, and maybe he had simply mostly feared it, but even if he'd considered the slightest hint of that truth, it doesn't leave him any less surprised when the words suddenly slip free from her without so much of a warning.
whatever smile that had been there seems to vanish, replaced by parted lips that voice nothing for the extended seconds in which he merely stares up at her, eyes focused on hers as if he might somehow find a sign that either he hadn't heard correctly what she'd said or it was just another set of words to fall in line with her routine set of jokes.
but he knows exactly what he'd respond in turn, because he's known it, even if it'd be impossible to conjure up an exact start date, to know if he's felt it since she'd help him escape a literal grizzly life, or from the time he'd first slept at her side in her bed, or if it had already begun to manifest before he even set eyes on her as she told him of her love for Judy Garland. the when of it isn't important, especially not as she casts her eyes on him with uncertainty.
and those words, they haven't been spoken by him in quite some time, not for anyone but maria castle, too precious to use so freely, especially on account of how he knows he hasn't been so deserving to hear them.
but wynonna earp — she's it. she's everything.
yet when he opens his mouth again, to say exactly what he means to, the only thing that slips is, ] Shit.
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he only manages to pull his lips free when she guides her hand low between them, the boundary of denim not enough to keep away the satisfaction of that touch, his hips instinctively rising to maximize the pressure she's already applying. ]
Feels good. [ he mutters in a whisper with a partial smile, meant to parallel the earlier tease. but any playfulness attempted is instantly replaced with the aroused sounds she seeks to command, the contact of his kiss a lighter brush now that he becomes distracted with deep groans.
his fingers press harder at her hips, a tighter grip at her flesh that could potentially bruise if he keeps them there long enough. but they won't still, not as a set of them roam inward to undo the button of her jeans, the dip of his hand finding the hem of her underwear and slipping within, fingertips direct on her skin when they stroke between her legs. ]
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You can say that again. [ Another amused laugh becomes another softer whimper, and her knees slide to clutch at his hips when she faintly perceives his hand slipping beneath the waist of her jeans and beyond to touch her even more directly. ]
Oh God, that's cheating — [ Never mind that it's hardly that; she's not surprised he'd try to up the ante with a hand that nudges between her legs, and she's definitely not surprised by her ready response to him, the tilt of her hips and the need that leaves her slick to the touch. It's all she can do to remember her own objective, yanking his belt open with a little more strength than she intends, and her hand moves to work that final button open, but that's as far as she gets before his stroking stills her in a shuddering exhale. ]
You've still got too many clothes on.
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but he doesn't stop, working up those firm presses to coax that building urgency, right up until she tenses against him, breath shaky in the wind that breezes against them. ]
So do you. [ even if she's fully bare at the upper half of her body, there's still more to remove, and when he slips his fingers free, it's to instantly grip at her loosened jeans, only yanking them slight with the complex position. ] Get 'em off. [ however way she needs to maneuver for it. ]
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But finally, finally she relents, rolling off of him with a groan that precedes her stretching out across the truck bed next to him; she’s forced to bring her knees up towards her chest and perform a hasty shimmying movement to fully get rid of the rest of her clothes, kicking them off in a denim puddle before she throws out a hand to curve a grip in one half of his shirt. ]
C’mere.
[ Because whatever she said about enjoying the view from up above before, she wants him covering her in his weight now, his hips lowered to hers and her mouth finding his without any hesitation; she’ll wrap her legs around him as she tries to shove his open jeans down enough to clear the way, too impatient to wait otherwise. ] I want you like this.
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he doesn't hesitate, though, rolling his body to slide over her, finding that natural settlement above her and between her legs, lowering to find the natural progression of their meeting mouths.
she mutters her request to his lips and he sighs deeply, breath warm where he exchanges it with hers. ]
Wynonna. [ he whispers her name soft so that it's lost to her mouth, a strained noise following as he adjusts himself below, guiding his arousal to an already slick entry and kissing her amidst the gradual press. music still echoes softly from the radio and yet it isn't enough to disguise the soft rise of a low moan and panting breath. ]
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The fact that she's completely bared against his half-dressed state is sort of lost on her now; she's too far gone in this to care anyway, hair fanned out around her head in a dark spill of waves as she gazes up to him, finding his eyes in the moonlight.
And he's there before she can fully catch her breath, stealing the gasp that press of hips elicits with his own lips, swallowing that sound from her; she closes her eyes and loses herself in the sensation, rising warmth and slowly sated need and the syllables of her voice forged between their mouths.
But she won't rush him either, as he notches himself flush against her, her hands slipping beneath his shirt to roam over where he's bare beneath it, feeling the roll of his shoulders when they join; her eyes flutter open to find his face hovering right above hers and she nudges their noses together. ] God, I don't think I could ever get tired of this.
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and as urgent as she might have been to drag her to him, bypassing any need to even discard the rest of his clothing, there's still no rush to the sensations of simply basking in the connection, of gazing tenderly to one another as a melody plays softly near them, and their flush bodies provide them all the warmth they need to shield against the night's breeze.
his arm braces against the blanket beneath them, curving around her head to gently stroke at her hair, thumb brushing away messily tangled strands. ]
Good. [ it's such a quiet whisper, it could be mistaken for a mere breath as he grants her a gentle kiss, a soft gesture that comes with the slow roll of his hips, lazy movements for the moment that simply aim to feel her. ] Cause you're all I want.
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The truck bed provides enough of a barrier to shield them from a straight-on view, and if there's more of a chill in the air once the sun goes down, he covers her enough to keep her warm, the blankets beneath her recycling that heat brought on both by what they've inhaled and what they seek out now, sensations heightened by even the slightest movement.
She tilts her head into the touch of his hand, those fingers gliding through her hair while hers clutch at his shoulders in time with his hips; it's slow, maybe slower than she'd like if she was entirely sober but she's happy just to feel, relaxed beneath him while he moves, lips lazily finding his for those intermittent, grazing kisses. ] It's just you, you know. Only you.
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the only thing that occupies his mind is the slide of her lips, the way they can find a rhythm together no matter what the pace of their hips may be, whether urgency commands them as he expects it might soon, or whether it’s simply enough to be this close and simply let it last.
only you, and he can imagine that she deserves much better than that, and if this were any other moment, he’d argue that very fact. but he’s already debated it with her, and right now, it doesn’t matter. not as he rocks a little more firmly, draws himself back slow until he can glide back with ease, making himself flush on every roll so he can bury himself deep in her heat, the beat of her heart close to his own chest. ]
Only you. [ he repeats quietly, pressing his nose to her cheek as he picks up his pace, quiet grunts lost in every breath. ]
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They're a lot alike in that way, each firmly insistent that they don't need anyone else's protection but maybe knowing deep down that they're stronger when they're in each other's corner, that the threats of this town are less insurmountable when they're fighting side by side.
There's no haste, no intention to rush this now, the lazy slide of mouths mimicking the similarly unhurried rocking of bodies; she likes him this deep, the added grind offering a friction that she can feel in all the right places, and her fingers dig into his back a little more while she finally starts moving to meet him in a lift of her hips. ]
So good. [ She probably doesn't need to tell him that based on what he can hear in those breathless exhalations while she clings so tightly, but there's really no filter between her brain and her mouth right now and she's dangerously close to saying everything she's feeling in this moment, trying to find the right words to express this sense of safety and warmth and right — and she brings her lips to his again, kisses him before she can spout off and inadvertently ruin this somehow by saying something too soon. ]
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chaos thrives in this town, but wynonna supplies him with an odd kind of normal, someone to seek out when he tires, a face to find when he goes home, whether in early hours or the late ones. it’d been years since he’d had any of it, all of it snatched away in a single incident, and if anyone actually terrifies him in deerington, it isn’t the monsters, it isn’t the tricks, but the threat that he might just lose everything all over again.
that he’ll wake up tomorrow, and he’ll lose laura, and he’ll lose wynonna, all at once.
his body quivers a little, and credit could go to the remnants of the drug in his system, or the breeze of the night air, or even the overwhelming heat exchanged between them. but he kisses her harder then, not taking for granted that he has her here now, that whatever hell they might end up dealing with in the morning, they’ve still got this despite it. as he carries a firmer urgency in his thrusts, their lips don’t quite align as he moves, but he keeps their mouths close nonetheless, the whisper of her name there harsh and needy, as his palm clings a tight grip to her thigh, rocking into a harder grind. ]
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None of it would be possible, she thinks, without him here with her now; they'd showed up around the same time, and he's as much a piece of her existence here as the rest of it — the job at the bar, the farmhouse slowly being patched up to some degree of livability, the people she recognizes every time she goes to the diner who know her as Wynonna and not the heir, not the disaster, not the reckless liability with a tendency for running her mouth. Okay, maybe that last part isn't completely true; he's likely to call her out for her inability to shut up, moreso than anyone else here.
It should say something all on its own that she's fallen silent apart from those desperate sounds, soft enough for his hearing to pick up with him nestled this close to her — and she crests, contentedly, one minute cradled at the precipice of her release and the next tumbling right into it with a hard tremor of her hips and a series of gasps, the furrow in her brow smoothing out as her lips broaden into a smile.
But he's still moving over her, in her, and she keeps herself tight against him, wanting to bring him there to that edge right after her as his own motions prolong everything she's feeling, makes something in her chest swell simply from the intimacy of the moment, from hearing her name on his lips over and over, the only time he ever uses it like this. ]
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yet, somehow he’s been able to reclaim the name of frank castle here, seen as more than just the skull painted across his chest, even if he’s recognized that it holds a corner of his identity just as well. he’d never considered the idea of settling down in deerington for long term, not exactly —but there are certain parts of it that hold more reason to keep him around than going back to far less.
and as she tenses against him, the reflexive stutter of her body that clues him in on her pleasure, he urges himself only closer, parted mouth braced to her cheek as he holds her through the brink of it, lets her ride it out against the continued insistent press of his hips. she clings to him, everywhere and down below, and it’s encouragement to chase his release with her. a steady panting falls to her skin, and he grunts deeply when he finds it, hips thrusting harder still, as fingers smooth across her throat while he kisses her lips.
when it all comes crashing down, he remains where he is, moving little save for the dipping of his forehead to hers, breathing softly as he lets the shared warmth between them wash over him. ]
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If she is on some kind of timetable, if she isn't meant to be here past a certain date, she'll deal with it then, and she might be kidding herself if she thinks experiencing that severance won't break her a little in the process, won't add to the cracks that already exist around her heart, but she'll get through it the same way she always has, by learning to lean on the people around her.
He's that support for her here, will be until he can't anymore, and even if they've got an expiration date ahead of them she's not willing to think that far into the future; she's definitely not projecting herself outward beyond him and them and this in the right here and now, with him warm and solid above her and cradling her close, touching her like she deserves to have something good in her life.
And she's there to hold him too, when he finally empties into her, fingers smoothing over his skin as he brings their faces together; she's still catching her breath, doesn't have the words yet, but she doesn't necessarily need to in a moment like this one, when she feels like she's floating above herself and he's the only thing keeping her tethered to solid ground. She presses her mouth to his from behind closed eyes, once and then again, murmuring dreamily when she finally manages to speak. ] You're something else.
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still, she shakes his plans, always coats him with the unexpected, including the very feelings that he’s come to have for her, the longing to see her each and every day that he wakes up in this town, and the peace he finds in her lips when she kisses him soft as she does now.
with a sigh and a shiver that he faults the wind for her, he tucks his arm besides her head, fingers stroking her hair as he lingers against her, settling into the warmth and dreading the eventual need to withdraw.
at her voice, he laughs softly, quiet but with an affectionate sound. ] Yeah? Hope that’s a good something. [ holding his smile, he nudges his nose to hers softly. ] And you’re — [ everything, he thinks, the word right there on his tongue. ] — very naked.
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So often she’s worried about whether she’ll be too much for him to handle, but she wakes up almost every morning to the soft press of lips against her cheek and a quietly murmured goodbye, the hairs of his beard tickling her face before he departs the room in a series of creaking steps on the staircase, soon followed by the sound of the screen door clapping shut. He’s there, in every way she never anticipated, and try as she might to convince herself otherwise, he’s never shown signs that anything could prompt him to leave her side.
Her grin widens and she drifts back to herself, head lazily lolling against the blankets beneath them as she slowly comes back to where they are and what they’ve just been up to — and his shiver seems to pass on to her then, her thighs reflexively squeezing at his hips as she nuzzles into his nose. ]
Yeah, looks like I am. [ Good thing she’s got her clothes in easy reach, but dressing means sacrificing his weight on her and she doesn’t want to surrender it yet, her fingers a steady slide across his spine. ] This might actually be the craziest thing I’ve done in this damn truck, and that’s counting the time I accidentally rolled it.
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especially not in his current state, the air of the afterglow leaving him relaxed above her, even as he keeps a forearm steady to support his weight. but it’s the press of her hips and the tickle of her nose that keeps him close, postponing any need to separate themselves so soon. ]
Well, we’re going two for two on our vehicles. What do you say we hit up that bike of yours next? [ obviously, a joke. but he’s not exactly blind to this accidental trend they’ve begun to set, either. ]
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Eventually, she slides herself away from him with a soft hiss of breath once they're fully separated, but rather than reach for her clothes to get dressed right away she reaches out to grab the edge of one of the blankets covering the interior of the truck bed, curling it around herself in her best imitation of a human burrito. ]
Mmm. You jest, but there's something about the idea of doing it on that gorgeous blend of steel and leather that might just get my motor running all over again. [ She can't keep a straight face even while she's saying it, though, sinking her teeth into her lower lip in an attempt to stifle her smirk. ]
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sliding besides her burrito body, he rests on his side, elbow keeping him slightly raised as he props himself up on his palm. it allows him to peer over her with an affection gaze, relaxed in both his body and his mind.
and he'd stay out here like this with her for hours if he could, satisfied for the quiet that still fills the space around them, save for another soft tune that plays on the radio. no threats, no interruptions, and there's a flutter that rushes through him that has a name he continues to avoid voicing.
but it's practically spoken in the brush of his fingers to her cheek, a light stroke that simply grazing her skin with his fingertips. his voice is a whisper, despite the lack of need for it in their continued privacy. ] You warm?
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Mmhmm. Downright toasty.
[ The slow slide of his fingers over the side of her face elicits a similarly paced tilt of her head as she leans into that touch, maybe even seeks out the further trajectory she knows he sometimes takes along her jaw toward the fall of her hair, and when she leans forward it's to fit her mouth to his with a soft hum. ]
I don't know about you, but — [ She doesn't finish her own thought before offering another kiss, a brief peck paired with a low chuckle. ] I really needed that.
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Yeah? [ with a light smile, he catches her lips again, lazy but determined to keep her mouth close to his, the tickle of his short hairs brushing at her skin. ]
What happened? That asshole boyfriend of yours put you on a dry spell? [ it's him, the asshole boyfriend. though if there's been anything "dry", it's only because frequency for this kind of thing doesn't work so well in light of numerous children running around and constant threats looming over them.
and maybe he doesn't even think about it when he uses the word "boyfriend", such a normality to it despite how little they've relied on labels. ]
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Now, they're firmly embedded in AD territory and she does it all sometimes without even thinking about it — and this time, it manifests in her peppering his mouth with a series of kisses until she's next door to laughing again, especially when he engages her closely enough to tickle her face with his beard, leaving her to try and squirm away in retreat. ]
You know I don't — have any complaints — in that department — oh my God, you hairy man, quit it —
[ She weakly swats at the exposure of his chest with the backs of her fingers, knowing she's responsible for initiating this in the first place but forever underestimating his tendency to escalate the terms of war between them, and finally props herself up to sitting over him, bearing her weight against a palm pressed along his side. ]
Yeah, he's kind of an asshole, but he's my asshole. [ Beat. ] Wait, that came out wrong.
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the difference is it comes with a wider smile, a rarer occurrence overall from the more stoic man, and yet the expression taking no effort at all when she conjures it as she swats back at him to fight over those coarser hairs around his mouth.
but he even manages to bark a fair laugh with her unintended humor, rolling onto his back when she guides herself over him, a hand rising to cease the sound from his lips, despite the smile still given away in the crinkled lines by his eyes. ] Jesus Christ.
[ wynonna earp, always something.
but his fingers find the smooth length of her hair, stroking lightly, voice softer. ] But you're right. I am yours.
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But she finds his gaze with her own shortly after that, turning her cheek against the curve of her own shoulder, her smile fading somewhat while the prominent dimples in her features continue to persist; fondness replaces amusement more and more, as the strains of another song quietly fill the otherwise silence that falls over them between his soft admission and hers.
She precedes it with an extra breath, like she needs to gather that air within herself for what comes next; she can only focus on the repetitive glide of his fingers through the ends of her hair for so long when it feels like her heart is living in her throat, and the sentiment tumbles from her, like it's been dangling on the tip of her tongue and only needed the right set of circumstances to make her brave enough to say it. ]
Hey. [ Here goes nothing, right? Nothing, but also everything. ] I — I kinda love you.
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whatever smile that had been there seems to vanish, replaced by parted lips that voice nothing for the extended seconds in which he merely stares up at her, eyes focused on hers as if he might somehow find a sign that either he hadn't heard correctly what she'd said or it was just another set of words to fall in line with her routine set of jokes.
but he knows exactly what he'd respond in turn, because he's known it, even if it'd be impossible to conjure up an exact start date, to know if he's felt it since she'd help him escape a literal grizzly life, or from the time he'd first slept at her side in her bed, or if it had already begun to manifest before he even set eyes on her as she told him of her love for Judy Garland. the when of it isn't important, especially not as she casts her eyes on him with uncertainty.
and those words, they haven't been spoken by him in quite some time, not for anyone but maria castle, too precious to use so freely, especially on account of how he knows he hasn't been so deserving to hear them.
but wynonna earp — she's it. she's everything.
yet when he opens his mouth again, to say exactly what he means to, the only thing that slips is, ] Shit.
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