( he doesn't know her well enough to really tell the difference between her smiles, not beyond assumptions and inferences. it doesn't matter, not really, not for the moment.
because where this might not be what she does, but it's nothing out of the ordinary for marc. there'd be candace when he'd worked for the company, there'd been lisa just after. then there'd been marlene — she'd been the odd one out, the one who hadn't exactly been work-related, just work adjacent, and the one who'd stuck with him the longest. there'd been greer and there'd been maya. (and marlene again and in between—.)
marc doesn't really do one-night stands or flings, not these days. once upon a time, perhaps, when he'd been younger, when his life had been more barracks and tents and whatever shithole hotel was most appropriate and most available; and it'd been less about the woman and more about a warm body.
but it's not a deliberate decision and it's not that he expects this, whatever it is now and whatever it becomes, to be anything more than convenience. anything more than the right person at the right time, however fleeting, because sometimes that's all it needs to be.
and so he doesn't say anything as her fingers press into his skin, as her lips graze his skin and then—. oh. sharp and sudden and unexpected, and the noise he makes — a quiet grunt, equal parts surprised and equal parts pleasured — is half-buried by the question she asks, by the sound of their footsteps against wet ceramic. any thoughts of an answer is cut short by the not unpleasant shock of his body being pushed against wet tile.
all at once, it's as if the rest of it — the bloody clothes, the bruises and the injuries — are forgotten. where she's urgent, he's hungry. one arm against the wall for balance, the other dropping from her waist to the curve where thigh meets ass to pull her closer. )
No, ( he answers eventually, and it's said against and into her skin, wet and thick thanks to the spray from the shower and the water running in rivulets from her hair and down her body. )
( marc continues to be nearly impossible to read — so she’ll tell herself that this is for the challenge. she’s doing this because he’s hard to read, because she’s not sure where she stands with him. it’s practice. it’s a bit of fun on the side. it’s something to ensure that her skills stay sharp. it’s harmless.
(there’s comfort in it, too. comfort in the way he finally winds an arm around her waist, in how he takes a handful of skin and pulls her in tight and kisses her like he can’t breathe.) )
Mm. ( murmured against his skin, irrespective of the water between them. she’s sore if he holds her too tight, but she doesn’t care; that’s part of it, too. the sensation of feeling still alive at the end of a difficult night, and having someone there to witness it.
he’d liked when she bit him. noting that, she runs her lips over the muscle where his neck meets his shoulder, nipping with kitten teeth and then sucking a mark there. her hands brush from his shoulders down, fingers skating over his chest, thumbing over his nipples and the smattering of hair, dropping to the lines of his abdomen.
she doesn’t touch his length directly, not yet; instead she’ll press her hips in, trap the hardness of him between their wet, slick bodies. )
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redhourglass) wrote2022-10-14 08:28 pm
no subject
because where this might not be what she does, but it's nothing out of the ordinary for marc. there'd be candace when he'd worked for the company, there'd been lisa just after. then there'd been marlene — she'd been the odd one out, the one who hadn't exactly been work-related, just work adjacent, and the one who'd stuck with him the longest. there'd been greer and there'd been maya. (and marlene again and in between—.)
marc doesn't really do one-night stands or flings, not these days. once upon a time, perhaps, when he'd been younger, when his life had been more barracks and tents and whatever shithole hotel was most appropriate and most available; and it'd been less about the woman and more about a warm body.
but it's not a deliberate decision and it's not that he expects this, whatever it is now and whatever it becomes, to be anything more than convenience. anything more than the right person at the right time, however fleeting, because sometimes that's all it needs to be.
and so he doesn't say anything as her fingers press into his skin, as her lips graze his skin and then—. oh. sharp and sudden and unexpected, and the noise he makes — a quiet grunt, equal parts surprised and equal parts pleasured — is half-buried by the question she asks, by the sound of their footsteps against wet ceramic. any thoughts of an answer is cut short by the not unpleasant shock of his body being pushed against wet tile.
all at once, it's as if the rest of it — the bloody clothes, the bruises and the injuries — are forgotten. where she's urgent, he's hungry. one arm against the wall for balance, the other dropping from her waist to the curve where thigh meets ass to pull her closer. )
No, ( he answers eventually, and it's said against and into her skin, wet and thick thanks to the spray from the shower and the water running in rivulets from her hair and down her body. )
no subject
(there’s comfort in it, too. comfort in the way he finally winds an arm around her waist, in how he takes a handful of skin and pulls her in tight and kisses her like he can’t breathe.) )
Mm. ( murmured against his skin, irrespective of the water between them. she’s sore if he holds her too tight, but she doesn’t care; that’s part of it, too. the sensation of feeling still alive at the end of a difficult night, and having someone there to witness it.
he’d liked when she bit him. noting that, she runs her lips over the muscle where his neck meets his shoulder, nipping with kitten teeth and then sucking a mark there. her hands brush from his shoulders down, fingers skating over his chest, thumbing over his nipples and the smattering of hair, dropping to the lines of his abdomen.
she doesn’t touch his length directly, not yet; instead she’ll press her hips in, trap the hardness of him between their wet, slick bodies. )