Are you as fed up with this lack-of-night shit as I am?
[ look, she's been laying in her bed staring at the ceiling for the last hour, so maybe she's just bored. sorry you pulled the short straw with this one as your next-door neighbor, frank. ]
[ there are only so many people she's said more than two words to on board this ship and his was the first name she scrolled to, so it's really just a matter of sheer luck.
don't you feel lucky, frank? ]
Not a 9 to 5 guy, huh? Never would've guessed.
Does sleep not factor into your plans of nothing and more nothing?
[ the rain happens, like so many other things have while they've been on this damn ship, without warning; one second she's outside, mingling (or at least pretending to) at something that's been referred to as a garden fête and trying to ignore the heaviness of her dress, and the next the sky literally opens up over them. wynonna squints up toward the darkened clouds and feels the first few droplets pinging against her face, sharp and cold, and then the downpour happens and she's frantically looking around for somewhere to retreat to.
she's not as close to the main house as everyone else is, having wandered off toward the edge of the party a long time ago, and she has to remember to pick up her skirts before she starts running, trying to see through the sheets of rain that have started falling and eventually just moving at a blind tilt, stopping once she feels wooden boards beneath her feet. she's stumbled into some kind of gazebo or pavilion a ways off on the property, and instinctually she reaches up to pull her wet hair back from where it's sticking to the sides of her face, the style she'd pinned it back in completely ruined by the rain.
she glances down at herself, her sopping dress sticking to her skin, and flings her arms down, drops scattering in all directions. the sound of heavy footsteps on the floorboards prompts her to spin around, wet lashes sticking together as she blinks whoever it is that's just had the same idea she has into focus.
she's got a smart remark hovering right on the tip of her tongue, but it dies at the sight of him, droplets clinging to the line of his jaw, his shirt so damp she can practically see through the cotton to the shape of his frame, his muscles. even if she doesn't know how they keep ending up in these situations together, she'd be lying if she said he doesn't make for a fantastic view like this, and she can almost forget about whether she looks like a drowned rat or not.
so she just looks at him, still breathing a little harder from the adrenaline and maybe something else now, something she doesn't want to admit she feels even a fraction of every time he's on her mind. ]
[ this place isn't getting any easier to handle, but it beats the last planet they'd ended up on; as much as he doesn't necessarily mind the wilderness, snowy days out there could be quite hell, especially when he's got other people to deal with, either because they'd probably die of frost bite without him or because they just have a way of being so goddamn persistent in being around.
at least here, he has some privacy in the stable he takes care of, no company necessary save for a few horses, along with the privilege of a pub further along the road. avoiding the parties, he could at least ease up with a drink or two there in his down time, sneaking on back to work on his own schedule, mostly because no one cares about him enough to be so attentive.
the rain isn't much of a bother but eventually it picks up while he's on a track back to the stables, pelting down enough to even sting his eyes that he can't maintain enough focus to see his route. it steers him into the closest bit of shelter, something solid enough for him to wipe away from the water from his view, and maybe wait it out a bit before he continues his way back.
it's not like he has much to do that's important here anyway.
when he hears the heavy footsteps of someone following in behind him, he's already got a quiet swear muttered out of his mouth, hidden by the sounds of heavy rainfall, but he stills when he realizes which dress-drenched woman ended up here with him — and he almost swears again.
because it's not unusual by now to find her as often as he does, to see her and feel the prickling of annoyance that always steers somewhere else entirely that he doesn't want to be. for all that he wants to keep away, his eyes never seem to follow suit, catching the glance she sends his way and watching it with a heavy sigh of his breath, sight catching her soaked hair falling over wet shoulders and clinging tight to the skin.
he should step away, of course, but he's got nowhere to go, nowhere to run. except even that excuse doesn't work when he hasn't taken advantage of his escape routes before.
with a thoughtful brush of his tongue against his lips, he takes a step closer to her, boots quiet on the wooden boards, before he's close enough to caress the back of his hand against her cheek, using that motion to tuck back the wet strands tangled there. ]
[ she knows she doesn’t belong in these circles — fancy people who seem to get their rocks off dressing up and judging others, not to mention the punch is seriously too weak for her liking. the only way she’d be able to get through a party like this is to drink the entire time, and she can’t even successfully do that. but she realizes how much she needs the breather from it all when she’s finally ducked beneath the gazebo, barely able to see two feet outside of it thanks to the rain coming down in sheets. it’s so loud she almost can’t hear herself think, but it’s not like she’s thinking much about anything else by the time she figures out she’s got company here — and whose company it is.
for a second, she wonders if he’s just going to turn around and head back out into the thick of it to get away from her; she’s not under any illusions that she’s his favorite person here or anything, not by a long shot, but she can’t pretend she hasn’t been feeling differently around him since that night in the tent, a night she can’t take back and maybe doesn’t even want to.
part of her envies him, where he’s ended up in this society; she wishes she could move freely and do whatever she wants, when she wants, and not have so many eyes on her, and maybe she feels part of that desire now — to be bold, to do something she shouldn’t, to behave badly. she knows what would happen if they were caught together here, what it would mean. and that feels like all the more reason to let herself take the risk.
his hand is warm against her rain-chilled skin and she shivers, but not completely from the cold; still, it’s not like this dress leaves much to the imagination now, plastered to her as it is, the points of her nipples sticking out through the sheer layers. she turns her face into his touch, cheek nudging the heel of his hand, and suddenly it’s like the tent was yesterday with how intensely she feels that returning spike of wanting him low in her center. she reaches up with a gloved hand to curl fingers at his neck, tugging herself in, and finds his mouth with a possessiveness that makes her gasp as soon as the heat of that kiss floods her body. ]
[ he's tried not to want anything, not here and not back home where he's continued to deny anything that could get close enough for him to hurt if he isn't careful. from the moment he'd first dropped in — and then dropped out, only to be sucked back up into this space trip all over again — he'd known keeping to himself would be the best course of action. unfortunately for him, things haven't always made that choice easy, especially when she's concerned.
the idea was that the tent would be a one-time thing, a choice to release a little bit of built up tension, something they likely both needed a bit of, having been trapped in this goddamn place for a while now. but forgetting is hard to do when something about the ship seems to keep their minds meddling together, impossible to split away the moment they get close enough.
because as soon as his fingers graze her cheek, something else stretches through him, a heated desire that he can't say with certainty is a cross over from whatever is going on in her head or if the fall of the rain paired with the sight of her in drenched fabric, shaping out her body rather intimately, gives swirl to that inspiration of thought.
he can't ignore her curves when she's this close, even if he tries to draw his eyes away, even if the sight of those tight buds against her dress remind him of when he'd pressed his mouth to them within the tent and sucked tenderly at that soft skin. for the brief moment that he considers drawing his hand back and stepping away from repeating this all over again, it's not enough before she's at his mouth, leaving no window for him to reconsider, his lips instantly responding with a mutual hunger, kiss hard with an eager curl of his tongue as strong palms grasp high at her hips, sloping up her sides, gripping at the soaked fabric of her dress. ]
[ she kisses him like she wants the taste of him in her mouth, hot and slick and salty with sweat, and also like she's trying to forget everything else — maybe up to and including that night they'd shed their layers and rolled against each other in the sleeping bag, when he'd made her gasp the first time he'd filled her up, when she'd kissed him to stifle her own cries as he'd driven her to come hard with the long strokes of his dick inside her.
she's tried to keep him out of her mind, but that's easier said than done when the ship is so damn small and they're sleeping side-by-side again with only a wall between them. she still wonders if he'd ever heard her that one night when she'd strafed a hand down her stomach and slipped it beneath the waistband of her panties, thrusting as many fingers as she could get inside herself to mimic his thickness and then biting her lip — but not before her own moans had inadvertently left her, sharp and plaintive when she'd finally made herself peak on a memory of the two of them fucking in the darkness.
she doesn't give herself a chance to second guess it now, and maybe he's thinking about pulling away too; there's that wink of doubt that flows through the empathy bond, but by the time her mouth finds his she can feel that need heightening hers and knows she's not alone in this. her hands are clutching at his face, the fabric of her gloves damp enough for her to feel the warmth of his skin through them, and when his touch docks at her hips it's enough to lead her in until she's pressed more closely against him, the heat of his body emanating through both layers of clothing to make her feel feverish, dizzy with her own arousal.
there's nothing proper about this, not when their tongues are already clashing, not when she's not-so-gently biting at his lower lip almost in a retaliatory gesture — like it's his fault for making her want him this much, so she's going to take it out on him a little — but she can hear the rush of the downpour on the roof above them and she knows she can keep getting lost in this, in him, at least for now. ]
[ even before all of this, frank had never been the type to so easily forget; for nearly a decade of his life, he'd devoted himself to one woman, never steering away to have another in his bed, and it was years after her death before he'd allowed himself the willingness to move forward with someone else. something like sex has never been, and likely never would be, as casual to him as most would believe it, and as much as he'd like to believe the night in the tent carried nothing but a chase of something easy, he knows it hardly falls that way.
especially when it'd been so hard to forget, nights in which he could feel her presence on the other side of that wall, enough that a surge of the empathy bond had gotten him hard enough to tent against his sweats, impossible to ignore and sleep off until he'd jerked his fist hard against it, thoughts of her riding hard and rough on his cock eventually steering him to spill thick and warm against his own belly.
the memory of it makes him feel a little guilty now too, knowing that he's given him in too easily to this, to her, and now that her mouth is on him, he's almost too selfish to consider giving it up, her body warm and wet all over as she curves up against his, gloved hands drawing him in to where it proves impossible to pull his lips away even if he wanted it.
if there's anything indecent about it, it proves hard to care with the pouring rain around them that shelters this place against whatever else is out there. his reputation here has never been a concern, and he's never really care much for hers either; if getting caught like this might be a damper in their circumstances otherwise, he doesn't debate it now, more guided by the quickly escalating heat of her hot mouth, palm sneaking up to caress against her breast, giving a squeeze as he groans against her lips. ]
[ she's just got done convincing herself that the night in the tent was a way for her to scratch an itch, to chase a much-needed release with someone who looked like he could get the job done for her. it hadn't meant anything, not just because she prefers having the chance to get some and get gone but because she doesn't need the inconvenience of getting more attached to anyone here. not when opening her heart to someone has always ended badly for her.
it only had to be once. just once, and then she'd have him out of her system. then she'd stop thinking about his mouth during really inconvenient times — or worse yet, stop thinking about the sensation of his roughened hands on her body until she'd been driven to touch herself to the memory of it, coming harder on her own fingers than she can ever recall at any other time she'd aimed for something quick and dirty to help her sleep. but it only takes looking at him again now, wet and in the flesh, for her to realize that she hasn't gotten over him at all.
she can taste the rainwater on his lips, cool and clean, but there's heat beneath it, that same warmth that had surged through her the night she'd rapidly stripped her clothes off and then fit herself to him in the darkness, skin rubbing against skin not just for needed friction but with the intensity of how hard he'd finally fucked her, driving in between the spread of her legs until she'd almost bit her lip enough to draw blood in her attempt to stifle the sounds of her own moaning. here, they have the rain to drown out her sighs, and she pants more roughly, more obviously against his mouth, as his hand palms over the curve of her breast through the soaked fabric of her dress, kneading firm enough for her to feel his warmth too.
she doesn't care about being caught, or at least that's not her biggest concern right now. honestly, she's sick of feeling like she has to behave, like she has to worry about being good, when all she wants is to give in to the first thing that feels good since she got here — and that's not dancing in some stuffy ballroom, either. instead, she clutches onto him, kisses him like she's drowning and the only thing that can keep her upright is his mouth, hers opening for that first sweep of tongue that makes her groan, makes her want to feel it elsewhere, and before she can think twice she's leading him over to where she can brace herself against the closest section of railing, spreading her knees to welcome him between them with one hand braced for leverage as the other starts to hike her skirts up. ]
[ somehow, once had really been all it took, considering he'd done a fair job at avoiding the risk of a mess prior to it, sticking to his own priorities, avoiding the frequent company, and not looking to deal with anyone's shit but his own. so he would easily put a lot of this blame on her, on her insistence for conversation, for being so damn keen towards neighborly engagement, so much so that the more he was around her, the more he could feel her presence on the other side of that wall.
but it's his fault too for giving in that night, for returning a kiss that led to the removal of layers, until there was nothing left between their bodies, nothing to stop her from spreading her legs for him as he filled her up, thick and hard until the grind came so slick, not only from how wet she was but how she'd managed to already make him come, enticing him enough to get going for a second round.
and right now, he's coaxed all over again, even if this time, she hardly needs to do anything at all, the power already in place when he feels the urge of palm at her breast, listening for her response as he massages with firm fingers, her breaths harsh and encouraging between the heat of their kiss.
but as she shuffles back, his body following her in kind, he can feel when she meets that edge, a stopping point that provides a decent support for what he's aching for next.
because while he's caught up in the succulent slide of their mouths, tongue curling hungrily and generating a heat that counters the chill of wet clothes, her snagging of her skirts has him drawing away so he can bend down onto his knees, strong hands grasping the bundle of layers up to her hips. panting, he leans in to her exposed legs, taking charge for what he's desired in those late nights in his own room, pressing the flat of his tongue to the center of her still-clothed cunt. ]
[ it all feels like a dream, so many of these details completely out-of-place for them, like maybe if she pinches herself hard enough she'll wake up and she'll be back on the ship with him on the other side of that shared wall, hoping she hasn't been turned on enough for that to permeate through the barrier. she's never asked him if he can feel it when she touches herself, if her need is strong enough to affect him too. maybe a part of her doesn't want to know, because if she found out the truth one way or another she'd either be embarrassed or something deeper she doesn't want to address.
so much of this isn't going to happen again — soon enough they'll be off the damn planet and flying through space, onto the next place, and she won't be standing here in a white dress that's been rendered almost sheer by the rain still pelting down outside, the once-attempted updo of her hair hanging wet and across her shoulders. she wouldn't be able to see the brawn of his shoulders rippling through his damp shirt as he crouches down to settle on his knees in front of her.
she uses one hand to hold her skirts up and the other to brace against the railing behind herself; they're still mostly covered by the gazebo's roof, but the rain is a continued torrent, so loud it almost masks the sound of her own heavy breathing, but he can likely see her lips parted for it as she tilts her chin down to watch.
she wants to make sure she sees every second of this, even if it does turn out to just be a dream, but as soon as his tongue strokes her through the fabric of her underwear — she'd out-and-out refused to wear those ridiculous period-appropriate drawers, which probably is a scandal all on its own — the heat of it is so obvious in contrast to where she's chilled and wet from the rain that she instinctively rounds her hips toward him, gasping softly. suddenly she's not sure she's ever wanted anything more than she wants to feel his tongue delving between her folds, flicking her clit, fucking into her until her knees threaten to give out on her. ]
[ The audio begins playing the moment the message opens. A winded, rough voice, in a whisper the whole way. A voice that never becomes the steel it could be, but stays that low, graveled whisper the whole way, regardless of its ending. ]
I'm glad you're alive, Big Brother.
But if you ever speak out against Wonkru again, then you are an enemy of Wonkru, and you are my enemy.
[ It's like she can barely leave her room without getting whammied by whatever this weird sexual energy is — which, in normal circumstances, wouldn't be that unwelcome, especially since before arriving on this ship she was having trouble remembering the last time she got laid. Well, before that fun ride in the front of a fire engine with a guy named Charlie, and even that had been kind of a happy accident considering her track record with getting it in on the regular. Here, though, it's like someone's cranked up the horny dial to fifteen and then left it on without any kind of shutoff mode, and Wynonna's only managed to get to her room after at least one inconvenient encounter and one spontaneous displacement into someone else's bed.
So yeah, right now she's not feeling like she might want to be social any time soon because that way could lead to having to ice her junk later, but she also managed to sequester herself in her quarters without any food, which is going to be a problem eventually when she starts getting hungry. Then again, there are food dispensers all over the ship. All she has to do is make her way to one, program a couple days' worth of meals, and get back before anything happens. Easy-peasy, right?
Trying to keep her head down is the plan here, but it becomes a dumber plan when she's leading with her head, rushing out of her room and barreling into something solid before she even gets two feet down the hallway. Only some miracle of balance keeps her from falling right on her ass, and she reaches out to grasp onto a firm set of upper arms to steady herself, swaying forward into the other person's space out of sheer momentum before she looks up into a familiarly roughened expression. ]
[ whenever this strange shit starts to kick in, that's when frank decides it's best to keep to himself. at least that's the general idea, except for the fact that it seems to be a regular occurrence daily where some kind of strange shit is happening, whether it's a glitch or getting stranded on a damn planet, and even if it wasn't happening, frank would probably still be trying to keep to himself.
he knows things are acting up the moment he wakes up one morning (or night? who the hell knows in space) with his cock stiffer than stiff within his shorts, and while he's plenty familiar with some natural morning wood, nothing about this felt exactly usual considering the feral need that seemingly took over. not that frank went looking for anyone to help take care of it, and while he's usually inclined to ignore the occasional subconscious erection, the desperation to get this handled had him breathlessly fucking into his hand until his knuckles were laced with come.
once he's taken a much needed shower, it begins to feel like it's eased off, like it's safe to head outside again, at least long enough for him to nab himself a good cup of coffee. he knows there's one just down the hall, a short walk away, but it's only a few moments after leaving his door, skin warm from the shower and hair still slightly damp, that she seems to come colliding right into him. ]
Jesus — [ he mutters, instinctively grabbing at her elbows to keep her steady from falling, eyes peering down with immediate recognition of who he's holding.
[ She's not tense so much as she is almost oversensitive, like whatever this is coursing through the ship has only contributed to making her nerve endings run on overdrive until even the slightest graze of fingers makes her nipples tighten and that familiar pulsing start between her legs. It's nothing she can even try to tamp down either, and so far she's been lucky enough, fortunate enough that the only people she's run into when she's felt like this have been people she's already done the deed with, which really removes the awkwardness from having to ask them to help her scratch this particular itch.
But Frank is... complicated, for more reasons than just the obvious, and it feels like they keep finding each other at the most inconvenient of times, only to end up tearing into one another in ways she's still left sore from days later. She'll swear up and down she hadn't been thinking about him earlier in the shower, fingers furiously rubbing between her legs until she'd come with a shuddered gasp, but she doesn't really know who she's fooling anymore or what the point is in trying to pretend otherwise.
Not that he needs to have the satisfaction of knowing he has a starring role in most of her sexual fantasies lately.
But it doesn't help to see him now, hair still damp from the shower; she can smell the soap on his skin and she's catapulted back to her own time beneath the hot spray, picturing his fingers inside her instead of her own, maybe his breath on her shoulder before he pulled them out to replace them with — ]
... hi. [ Smooth, Earp. She can't repress the smile, at least, a quick twitch upward at the edges of her mouth. ] You needed to grab some grub too, huh?
[ sometimes it feels like this ship is always pulling him right back to her, like there's more than coincidence that arranged their rooms to be side by side together, the effects all extending to when they find each other again and again on whatever planet they'd been stranded on for the week or the month. it's often enough that he shouldn't actually be surprised running into her now and yet he still is.
he doesn't even think as he lingers into stillness for a moment, the single word leaving him before his hands are merely just left holding at her elbows, thumbs stroking absentmindedly at her biceps, not sure if he's attempting to ease her from the almost stumble or if something else lures him to simply keep touching her. ]
Something like that. [ he says with a tight knit of his brow, like he's trying to remember why he's even here. ] Coffee.
[ the word leaves him a little deeper than it probably should, almost breathless as his eyes continue to peer down at her, at her lips, instinctively licking his own at the sight. ]
Don't you think that's just gonna keep you up all night?
[ The question leaves her in closer to a breathless rush, and she can't tell if it's brought on by his lingering proximity to her or the fact that his hands are still on her skin, thumbs gently sweeping back and forth against that bare stretch in a way that pulls her mind helplessly to exactly those points. She shifts, but not enough to move herself out of his hold, which is probably enough of a clear giveaway that she doesn't mind his touch on her — that she doesn't want to give it up now that she's got it.
It also doesn't help that she's still gripping his arms too, fingers clutching at his biceps before her palms enter the mix too, solidifying that hold until she can't even pretend she's just using him to keep herself upright anymore. That excuse disappeared the second his gaze fell to his mouth and she noticed, something inside her clenching when she catches a glimpse of his tongue sneaking out to wet his lips. ]
I mean. [ God, what had she meant? ] Unless you're just in the mood for something nice and hot.
[ he mutters the response almost automatically, not even entirely paying attention to it for the fact that everything else proves to be a lot more distracting. he knows that he shouldn't be touching her like he is, that he should really be respecting her personal space right now but he can't seem to withdraw his touch, almost as if magnetized, and it seems like she's not drawing back either.
and all of that in itself is a bad sign, particularly because he knows what's happened in the past when their hands couldn't restrain from touching one another.
as always, he stops thinking when he's with her, never sure if it's credited to something else or if it's just her and whatever damn effect she has when she shows up, like her presence is just a clear sign that shit's about to get fucked for him, one way or another — usually pretty literally.
but his fingers continue to slide along her skin, fingers dipping just slightly beneath the hem of her sleeves. ]
Maybe I do need something worth keeping me awake. Got any ideas? [ a terrible question to ask right now. ]
Not that you can even really tell when night is around here, since… the whole space thing.
[ God, she needs to quit while she’s ahead apparently, because every time she so much as opens her mouth around him she’s at risk for saying something completely idiotic. It doesn’t help either that they haven’t fully broken away from each other, and deep down she wonders if it’s more of whatever’s got everyone on this ship feeling hotter than normal — but a part of her thinks it might not even be that much, not when she hadn’t had that excuse to fall back on the other times she’d hauled him against her and relearned what his mouth tasted like.
Before she can even think about it, one of her hands has slid up to his shoulder, fingers stroking against the line between the collar of his shirt and the side of his neck, something soft and almost imperceptible as he poses the ask, and she doesn’t think she’s imagining the way his voice deepens when he says it either. ]
Maybe I’ve got something for you in there. [ She jerks her head back, a quick nod in the direction of her own room, only a few steps away from where they’re standing. It’s not the best line she could come up with, but she blames how he peers to her, the sheen on his lower lip from where he’d licked it, and how she wants to chase after it with her own tongue. ] How’s that idea sound to you?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
text; un: bacondonut
[ look, she's been laying in her bed staring at the ceiling for the last hour, so maybe she's just bored. sorry you pulled the short straw with this one as your next-door neighbor, frank. ]
no subject
never really made much of a difference to me
never exactly ran on a normal schedule anyway
no subject
don't you feel lucky, frank? ]
Not a 9 to 5 guy, huh? Never would've guessed.
Does sleep not factor into your plans of nothing and more nothing?
no subject
it might have
maybe you ruined my beauty sleep
no subject
Don't tell me you care about looking pretty or I'll have to change my entire first impression of you.
no subject
i don't instantly scream pretty when you look at me
[ he's hilarious. ]
no subject
[ the shape of that nose alone. ]
Don't get me wrong. Some ladies are into that whole rugged look.
no subject
[ he ain't looking to impress anyone here. ]
no subject
[ well now she just feels suddenly compelled to mess with him a little. ]
action; rain thingggs
she's not as close to the main house as everyone else is, having wandered off toward the edge of the party a long time ago, and she has to remember to pick up her skirts before she starts running, trying to see through the sheets of rain that have started falling and eventually just moving at a blind tilt, stopping once she feels wooden boards beneath her feet. she's stumbled into some kind of gazebo or pavilion a ways off on the property, and instinctually she reaches up to pull her wet hair back from where it's sticking to the sides of her face, the style she'd pinned it back in completely ruined by the rain.
she glances down at herself, her sopping dress sticking to her skin, and flings her arms down, drops scattering in all directions. the sound of heavy footsteps on the floorboards prompts her to spin around, wet lashes sticking together as she blinks whoever it is that's just had the same idea she has into focus.
she's got a smart remark hovering right on the tip of her tongue, but it dies at the sight of him, droplets clinging to the line of his jaw, his shirt so damp she can practically see through the cotton to the shape of his frame, his muscles. even if she doesn't know how they keep ending up in these situations together, she'd be lying if she said he doesn't make for a fantastic view like this, and she can almost forget about whether she looks like a drowned rat or not.
so she just looks at him, still breathing a little harder from the adrenaline and maybe something else now, something she doesn't want to admit she feels even a fraction of every time he's on her mind. ]
no subject
at least here, he has some privacy in the stable he takes care of, no company necessary save for a few horses, along with the privilege of a pub further along the road. avoiding the parties, he could at least ease up with a drink or two there in his down time, sneaking on back to work on his own schedule, mostly because no one cares about him enough to be so attentive.
the rain isn't much of a bother but eventually it picks up while he's on a track back to the stables, pelting down enough to even sting his eyes that he can't maintain enough focus to see his route. it steers him into the closest bit of shelter, something solid enough for him to wipe away from the water from his view, and maybe wait it out a bit before he continues his way back.
it's not like he has much to do that's important here anyway.
when he hears the heavy footsteps of someone following in behind him, he's already got a quiet swear muttered out of his mouth, hidden by the sounds of heavy rainfall, but he stills when he realizes which dress-drenched woman ended up here with him — and he almost swears again.
because it's not unusual by now to find her as often as he does, to see her and feel the prickling of annoyance that always steers somewhere else entirely that he doesn't want to be. for all that he wants to keep away, his eyes never seem to follow suit, catching the glance she sends his way and watching it with a heavy sigh of his breath, sight catching her soaked hair falling over wet shoulders and clinging tight to the skin.
he should step away, of course, but he's got nowhere to go, nowhere to run. except even that excuse doesn't work when he hasn't taken advantage of his escape routes before.
with a thoughtful brush of his tongue against his lips, he takes a step closer to her, boots quiet on the wooden boards, before he's close enough to caress the back of his hand against her cheek, using that motion to tuck back the wet strands tangled there. ]
no subject
for a second, she wonders if he’s just going to turn around and head back out into the thick of it to get away from her; she’s not under any illusions that she’s his favorite person here or anything, not by a long shot, but she can’t pretend she hasn’t been feeling differently around him since that night in the tent, a night she can’t take back and maybe doesn’t even want to.
part of her envies him, where he’s ended up in this society; she wishes she could move freely and do whatever she wants, when she wants, and not have so many eyes on her, and maybe she feels part of that desire now — to be bold, to do something she shouldn’t, to behave badly. she knows what would happen if they were caught together here, what it would mean. and that feels like all the more reason to let herself take the risk.
his hand is warm against her rain-chilled skin and she shivers, but not completely from the cold; still, it’s not like this dress leaves much to the imagination now, plastered to her as it is, the points of her nipples sticking out through the sheer layers. she turns her face into his touch, cheek nudging the heel of his hand, and suddenly it’s like the tent was yesterday with how intensely she feels that returning spike of wanting him low in her center. she reaches up with a gloved hand to curl fingers at his neck, tugging herself in, and finds his mouth with a possessiveness that makes her gasp as soon as the heat of that kiss floods her body. ]
no subject
the idea was that the tent would be a one-time thing, a choice to release a little bit of built up tension, something they likely both needed a bit of, having been trapped in this goddamn place for a while now. but forgetting is hard to do when something about the ship seems to keep their minds meddling together, impossible to split away the moment they get close enough.
because as soon as his fingers graze her cheek, something else stretches through him, a heated desire that he can't say with certainty is a cross over from whatever is going on in her head or if the fall of the rain paired with the sight of her in drenched fabric, shaping out her body rather intimately, gives swirl to that inspiration of thought.
he can't ignore her curves when she's this close, even if he tries to draw his eyes away, even if the sight of those tight buds against her dress remind him of when he'd pressed his mouth to them within the tent and sucked tenderly at that soft skin. for the brief moment that he considers drawing his hand back and stepping away from repeating this all over again, it's not enough before she's at his mouth, leaving no window for him to reconsider, his lips instantly responding with a mutual hunger, kiss hard with an eager curl of his tongue as strong palms grasp high at her hips, sloping up her sides, gripping at the soaked fabric of her dress. ]
no subject
she's tried to keep him out of her mind, but that's easier said than done when the ship is so damn small and they're sleeping side-by-side again with only a wall between them. she still wonders if he'd ever heard her that one night when she'd strafed a hand down her stomach and slipped it beneath the waistband of her panties, thrusting as many fingers as she could get inside herself to mimic his thickness and then biting her lip — but not before her own moans had inadvertently left her, sharp and plaintive when she'd finally made herself peak on a memory of the two of them fucking in the darkness.
she doesn't give herself a chance to second guess it now, and maybe he's thinking about pulling away too; there's that wink of doubt that flows through the empathy bond, but by the time her mouth finds his she can feel that need heightening hers and knows she's not alone in this. her hands are clutching at his face, the fabric of her gloves damp enough for her to feel the warmth of his skin through them, and when his touch docks at her hips it's enough to lead her in until she's pressed more closely against him, the heat of his body emanating through both layers of clothing to make her feel feverish, dizzy with her own arousal.
there's nothing proper about this, not when their tongues are already clashing, not when she's not-so-gently biting at his lower lip almost in a retaliatory gesture — like it's his fault for making her want him this much, so she's going to take it out on him a little — but she can hear the rush of the downpour on the roof above them and she knows she can keep getting lost in this, in him, at least for now. ]
no subject
especially when it'd been so hard to forget, nights in which he could feel her presence on the other side of that wall, enough that a surge of the empathy bond had gotten him hard enough to tent against his sweats, impossible to ignore and sleep off until he'd jerked his fist hard against it, thoughts of her riding hard and rough on his cock eventually steering him to spill thick and warm against his own belly.
the memory of it makes him feel a little guilty now too, knowing that he's given him in too easily to this, to her, and now that her mouth is on him, he's almost too selfish to consider giving it up, her body warm and wet all over as she curves up against his, gloved hands drawing him in to where it proves impossible to pull his lips away even if he wanted it.
if there's anything indecent about it, it proves hard to care with the pouring rain around them that shelters this place against whatever else is out there. his reputation here has never been a concern, and he's never really care much for hers either; if getting caught like this might be a damper in their circumstances otherwise, he doesn't debate it now, more guided by the quickly escalating heat of her hot mouth, palm sneaking up to caress against her breast, giving a squeeze as he groans against her lips. ]
no subject
it only had to be once. just once, and then she'd have him out of her system. then she'd stop thinking about his mouth during really inconvenient times — or worse yet, stop thinking about the sensation of his roughened hands on her body until she'd been driven to touch herself to the memory of it, coming harder on her own fingers than she can ever recall at any other time she'd aimed for something quick and dirty to help her sleep. but it only takes looking at him again now, wet and in the flesh, for her to realize that she hasn't gotten over him at all.
she can taste the rainwater on his lips, cool and clean, but there's heat beneath it, that same warmth that had surged through her the night she'd rapidly stripped her clothes off and then fit herself to him in the darkness, skin rubbing against skin not just for needed friction but with the intensity of how hard he'd finally fucked her, driving in between the spread of her legs until she'd almost bit her lip enough to draw blood in her attempt to stifle the sounds of her own moaning. here, they have the rain to drown out her sighs, and she pants more roughly, more obviously against his mouth, as his hand palms over the curve of her breast through the soaked fabric of her dress, kneading firm enough for her to feel his warmth too.
she doesn't care about being caught, or at least that's not her biggest concern right now. honestly, she's sick of feeling like she has to behave, like she has to worry about being good, when all she wants is to give in to the first thing that feels good since she got here — and that's not dancing in some stuffy ballroom, either. instead, she clutches onto him, kisses him like she's drowning and the only thing that can keep her upright is his mouth, hers opening for that first sweep of tongue that makes her groan, makes her want to feel it elsewhere, and before she can think twice she's leading him over to where she can brace herself against the closest section of railing, spreading her knees to welcome him between them with one hand braced for leverage as the other starts to hike her skirts up. ]
no subject
but it's his fault too for giving in that night, for returning a kiss that led to the removal of layers, until there was nothing left between their bodies, nothing to stop her from spreading her legs for him as he filled her up, thick and hard until the grind came so slick, not only from how wet she was but how she'd managed to already make him come, enticing him enough to get going for a second round.
and right now, he's coaxed all over again, even if this time, she hardly needs to do anything at all, the power already in place when he feels the urge of palm at her breast, listening for her response as he massages with firm fingers, her breaths harsh and encouraging between the heat of their kiss.
but as she shuffles back, his body following her in kind, he can feel when she meets that edge, a stopping point that provides a decent support for what he's aching for next.
because while he's caught up in the succulent slide of their mouths, tongue curling hungrily and generating a heat that counters the chill of wet clothes, her snagging of her skirts has him drawing away so he can bend down onto his knees, strong hands grasping the bundle of layers up to her hips. panting, he leans in to her exposed legs, taking charge for what he's desired in those late nights in his own room, pressing the flat of his tongue to the center of her still-clothed cunt. ]
no subject
so much of this isn't going to happen again — soon enough they'll be off the damn planet and flying through space, onto the next place, and she won't be standing here in a white dress that's been rendered almost sheer by the rain still pelting down outside, the once-attempted updo of her hair hanging wet and across her shoulders. she wouldn't be able to see the brawn of his shoulders rippling through his damp shirt as he crouches down to settle on his knees in front of her.
she uses one hand to hold her skirts up and the other to brace against the railing behind herself; they're still mostly covered by the gazebo's roof, but the rain is a continued torrent, so loud it almost masks the sound of her own heavy breathing, but he can likely see her lips parted for it as she tilts her chin down to watch.
she wants to make sure she sees every second of this, even if it does turn out to just be a dream, but as soon as his tongue strokes her through the fabric of her underwear — she'd out-and-out refused to wear those ridiculous period-appropriate drawers, which probably is a scandal all on its own — the heat of it is so obvious in contrast to where she's chilled and wet from the rain that she instinctively rounds her hips toward him, gasping softly. suddenly she's not sure she's ever wanted anything more than she wants to feel his tongue delving between her folds, flicking her clit, fucking into her until her knees threaten to give out on her. ]
march misfire, un: killjoy
Octavia Blake ↠ The 100 ↠ she *hates* me
A voice that never becomes the steel it could be, but stays that low, graveled whisper the whole way, regardless of its ending. ]
I'm glad you're alive, Big Brother.
But if you ever speak out against Wonkru again,
then you are an enemy of Wonkru, and you are my enemy.
more filth event obviously;
So yeah, right now she's not feeling like she might want to be social any time soon because that way could lead to having to ice her junk later, but she also managed to sequester herself in her quarters without any food, which is going to be a problem eventually when she starts getting hungry. Then again, there are food dispensers all over the ship. All she has to do is make her way to one, program a couple days' worth of meals, and get back before anything happens. Easy-peasy, right?
Trying to keep her head down is the plan here, but it becomes a dumber plan when she's leading with her head, rushing out of her room and barreling into something solid before she even gets two feet down the hallway. Only some miracle of balance keeps her from falling right on her ass, and she reaches out to grasp onto a firm set of upper arms to steady herself, swaying forward into the other person's space out of sheer momentum before she looks up into a familiarly roughened expression. ]
Oh, fuck me.
no subject
he knows things are acting up the moment he wakes up one morning (or night? who the hell knows in space) with his cock stiffer than stiff within his shorts, and while he's plenty familiar with some natural morning wood, nothing about this felt exactly usual considering the feral need that seemingly took over. not that frank went looking for anyone to help take care of it, and while he's usually inclined to ignore the occasional subconscious erection, the desperation to get this handled had him breathlessly fucking into his hand until his knuckles were laced with come.
once he's taken a much needed shower, it begins to feel like it's eased off, like it's safe to head outside again, at least long enough for him to nab himself a good cup of coffee. he knows there's one just down the hall, a short walk away, but it's only a few moments after leaving his door, skin warm from the shower and hair still slightly damp, that she seems to come colliding right into him. ]
Jesus — [ he mutters, instinctively grabbing at her elbows to keep her steady from falling, eyes peering down with immediate recognition of who he's holding.
suddenly, everything feels warmer again. ] Hey.
no subject
But Frank is... complicated, for more reasons than just the obvious, and it feels like they keep finding each other at the most inconvenient of times, only to end up tearing into one another in ways she's still left sore from days later. She'll swear up and down she hadn't been thinking about him earlier in the shower, fingers furiously rubbing between her legs until she'd come with a shuddered gasp, but she doesn't really know who she's fooling anymore or what the point is in trying to pretend otherwise.
Not that he needs to have the satisfaction of knowing he has a starring role in most of her sexual fantasies lately.
But it doesn't help to see him now, hair still damp from the shower; she can smell the soap on his skin and she's catapulted back to her own time beneath the hot spray, picturing his fingers inside her instead of her own, maybe his breath on her shoulder before he pulled them out to replace them with — ]
... hi. [ Smooth, Earp. She can't repress the smile, at least, a quick twitch upward at the edges of her mouth. ] You needed to grab some grub too, huh?
no subject
he doesn't even think as he lingers into stillness for a moment, the single word leaving him before his hands are merely just left holding at her elbows, thumbs stroking absentmindedly at her biceps, not sure if he's attempting to ease her from the almost stumble or if something else lures him to simply keep touching her. ]
Something like that. [ he says with a tight knit of his brow, like he's trying to remember why he's even here. ] Coffee.
[ the word leaves him a little deeper than it probably should, almost breathless as his eyes continue to peer down at her, at her lips, instinctively licking his own at the sight. ]
no subject
[ The question leaves her in closer to a breathless rush, and she can't tell if it's brought on by his lingering proximity to her or the fact that his hands are still on her skin, thumbs gently sweeping back and forth against that bare stretch in a way that pulls her mind helplessly to exactly those points. She shifts, but not enough to move herself out of his hold, which is probably enough of a clear giveaway that she doesn't mind his touch on her — that she doesn't want to give it up now that she's got it.
It also doesn't help that she's still gripping his arms too, fingers clutching at his biceps before her palms enter the mix too, solidifying that hold until she can't even pretend she's just using him to keep herself upright anymore. That excuse disappeared the second his gaze fell to his mouth and she noticed, something inside her clenching when she catches a glimpse of his tongue sneaking out to wet his lips. ]
I mean. [ God, what had she meant? ] Unless you're just in the mood for something nice and hot.
no subject
[ he mutters the response almost automatically, not even entirely paying attention to it for the fact that everything else proves to be a lot more distracting. he knows that he shouldn't be touching her like he is, that he should really be respecting her personal space right now but he can't seem to withdraw his touch, almost as if magnetized, and it seems like she's not drawing back either.
and all of that in itself is a bad sign, particularly because he knows what's happened in the past when their hands couldn't restrain from touching one another.
as always, he stops thinking when he's with her, never sure if it's credited to something else or if it's just her and whatever damn effect she has when she shows up, like her presence is just a clear sign that shit's about to get fucked for him, one way or another — usually pretty literally.
but his fingers continue to slide along her skin, fingers dipping just slightly beneath the hem of her sleeves. ]
Maybe I do need something worth keeping me awake. Got any ideas? [ a terrible question to ask right now. ]
no subject
[ God, she needs to quit while she’s ahead apparently, because every time she so much as opens her mouth around him she’s at risk for saying something completely idiotic. It doesn’t help either that they haven’t fully broken away from each other, and deep down she wonders if it’s more of whatever’s got everyone on this ship feeling hotter than normal — but a part of her thinks it might not even be that much, not when she hadn’t had that excuse to fall back on the other times she’d hauled him against her and relearned what his mouth tasted like.
Before she can even think about it, one of her hands has slid up to his shoulder, fingers stroking against the line between the collar of his shirt and the side of his neck, something soft and almost imperceptible as he poses the ask, and she doesn’t think she’s imagining the way his voice deepens when he says it either. ]
Maybe I’ve got something for you in there. [ She jerks her head back, a quick nod in the direction of her own room, only a few steps away from where they’re standing. It’s not the best line she could come up with, but she blames how he peers to her, the sheen on his lower lip from where he’d licked it, and how she wants to chase after it with her own tongue. ] How’s that idea sound to you?