song_tra_bong | (no subject)

Mary Anne is pretty sure she's found the right world. That knowledge isn't as comforting as she'd thought it would be.

The trail leads her to a hotel, where she almost drops the ball. The description of the man sounds like Ramon, but the presence of two kids throw her. She almost lets it go.

Almost.

But then she figures the guy could be mistaken, or maybe it's part of Ramon's cover, or maybe...

She follows the lead.

Ramon (she's assuming it's Ramon) did a good job of covering his tracks. But there are still things to point the way: someone cleaned the cabin, stocked it with food. Even false names on rental paperwork are names, and they're names she's seen before.

(Spain, France, Switzerland)

She doesn't think she's assuming any more.

She rents a motorcycle, an offroad number with chunky tires and an engine that growls like a bear. She rides it most of the way up the mountain, before parking it and hiding it off the side of the road. She continues the rest of the distance on foot.

There's a gun in the small of her back, money and ammo in the bag at her hip; knives in all the usual places. She thinks she's right, but it's important to be prepared.

She steps up onto the porch, careful not to let the boards creak, then knocks on the door.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

'Maybe I didn't make you come hard enough,' he says, unbuttoning his fly with a dark smirk. 'You're still full of yourself.'

His jeans are pushed down to mid-thigh and left there, one arm pins hers down as he leans forward. There is no preamble; she can probably tell by the state of him that he's edging past desperate now. He just pushes into her with an appreciative groan amd his free arm grabs her leg to hold it up so he can get deeper.

'Stop me if it hurts.'

(Dontstopme,fuck)

"Gonna have to fuck me pretty hard to train that out of me."

She moans, wrapping her other leg around his his waist to pull him closer.

"Doesn't hurt," she pants. "God, you feel so good."

'God, you're so tight.' Like his voice, vacuum-packed, keeping everything in.

He does fuck her hard, rough, past caring already because there's nothing in the world but breathing and pleasure and moans and the bed banging hard against the wall.

She cries out with every thrust, rocking her hips into his.

She's going to be sore in the morning and she doesn't care; she just wants him to keep going, urging him on with strings of words both needy and profane.

He kisses her to stop her talking pretty soon, the words threaten to finish this for him. He's trying not to focus on it because it'll be over if he does, if he thinks about warmth and wet and the grip around him and....he screws his eyes shut, forces it away because it's too good to end yet.

She rakes her teeth over his lower lip, then lets her head fall back, eyes closed and a moan rumbling low in her throat.

'I can't...can't...Dios...'

He's trying, he's trying but he can't keep it out anymore. Defences crumble and the moans get louder, rising in cresendo until there is sudden, abrubt silence as his muscles tense, rocking into her hard as he comes. It's too intense to even enjoy properly, all about release of tension, a years worth of pent up frustration erupting at once.

He stays where he is for a while, just releasing her arms and letting his head drop forward onto her shoulder as he tries to get his breath back.

She cards her fingers through his hair while her other hand rubs his back, murmuring soothing strings of nonsense syllables, just enjoying the weight of him.

He stays there a minute or so, then rolls off her. He kicks off his jeans the rest of the way then lies back, his head resting on a bent arm.

Doesn't say anything. Not sure what there is to say.

She props herself up on one elbow, chin resting on her hand, and spends a moment just watching his face.

Slowly, tentatively, she reaches out and trails her fingertips through his hair.

He doesn't stop her but doesn't really move either. Just lets her.

Her movements become less tentative, the rhythm steady, but she doesn't touch him anywhere else yet.

'Got a thing about hair?

Just curious.

"Just a weakness for playing with other people's."

'OK.'

He lets her for a bit, then sits up to grab the quilt and cover them over.

'Did I hurt you?'

She shakes her head.

"No, 'm fine."

Definitely going to be sore in the morning, but she's not bothered enough to tell him. (Plus, she doesn't want him thinking that he hurt her.)

He nods and wonders whether there's something he should be doing. This bit was always fine with Random but here he doesn't know what's expected of him or whether he should be making an effort of some kind or even what to think. Strange, he thought he'd feel worse. He doesn't really feel anything.

He sits up and lights a cigarette. That's always a safe option. 'Want a drink or anything?'

With men who aren't her husband, either she leaves or they do; this isn't so much awkward as...different.

She lies on her stomach, head pillowed on her folded arms. "I'm alright, thanks."

'OK.'

Ramon stabs out the cigarette and lies down again.

'I'm going to sleep a bit.'

Or pretend to anyway.

The corner of her mouth twitches in a smile.

"Go ahead."

He closes his eyes and slows his breathing, doing a good impersonation of someone asleep. Surprisingly, it's only about ten minutes before it becomes real - and it's good sleep too, better than he's had in a while.

He's pretty much decided to think about all this in the morning. It can wait until then.

Mary Anne lies there and watches him for a good long while before drifting off herself.

She curls closer to him in her sleep.

When she wakes up, she'll probably find his arm wrapped around her. Force of habit.

It's a nice habit.