[oom] Coming Home

[hell_in_highheels]

It's still dark when she wakes, but dawn is already lightning the sky.  She dresses in long skirts, her favourite wool sweater, and her grey woollen shawl.  And her field boots.  The lakeside is rocky, and they're practical.

She makes her way down the stairs to the bar, not really surprised to see a others who are still awake from the previous evening's carousing.  She doesn't pause to socialise.  She makes her way out the back and down the path to the lakeside, her eyes on the tree line.  She walks the shore, rubbing her arms against the chill, putting more and more distance between herself and the bar.

This time it is she who is searching for him in the mist.

He told her not to come after him when the moon was up.  But it had set hours ago.  The sun was almost over the ridge. 

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[captainryan.livejournal.com]

He makes no sound as she touches the deadened skin, just goes very still.

He might have been able to heal a bullet to the head if not for the silver through his torso.

He places one hand under her chin, pulling her face up slowly to his and away from the scars. He kisses her, almost solemnly, before need and want turn it more passionate.

[hell_in_highheels]

He might never have found this place if hadn't been for that blade. He might never have found her. She can find no place for regret in her heart over that simple fact.

Her kiss echoes these things back to him, need and want all tangled up with this hunger she has for him, not just his body, but his heart and his mind.

There are drops of water on her eyelashes, though it's hard to tell where they came from.

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

He doesn't see. There's water in his own eyes, but it's easily ignored in favour of feeling her out, testing his memory about what he'll find where. His hands ease down to support her glutes, lifting to try and pull her even closer than they already are.

[hell_in_highheels]

She gasps into his mouth, her arms snaking around his neck, moaning as she kisses him hard. She revels in the feel of his strong hand as he draws her leg up his thigh.

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

He lets out a small frustrated growl. The water makes it hard for him to hold her and while he loves the feel of her thigh stroking his, he'd much rather be feeling something else right now.

He returns her kiss as he twists them around, pushing her up against the slate slab that makes up the back of the shower. He starts lifting her again, putting her neck and other things within distance of his head.

He demonstrates by nibbling at her jaw line and working his way down.

[hell_in_highheels]

Her head tips back, her gasp turning into a sigh of pleasure. He's pinning her against the warm stone with his weight, giving her leave to wind her legs around his waist. She can feel the scruff of his beard against the sensitive skin of her throat, the graze of his teeth. Her hands can't get enough of him, roaming over his skin.

The marks he left three days ago have almost healed.

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

That's okay, he can make new ones.

He nibbles his way down her throat until he hits her collarbone. He follows the ridge out to her shoulder before working his way back along the hollow it forms, kissing and lapping at the water there.

His groin grinds against hers, hardness drawn to softness.

[hell_in_highheels]

She holds onto his head and neck, nuzzling into his hair.

He has her pinned, transfixed, and she can't move, can't rise to meet him. She only try draw him close, her heels digging into his thighs, her breath hitching in his ear as he teases along the crux of her thighs.

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

He finds her neck again, biting in earnest, remarking her skin.

His hands find purchase under her, supporting her weight, arms flexing to hold her up. He stops pushing against her quite so much, giving them both a chance to manoeuvre to the proper positions.

[hell_in_highheels]

She hisses as his teeth sink into her flesh, and she shudders with the intensity of it. She holds tight, her hips guiding him as best she can. He can hear her murmur softly "Yes, yes," as he presses in and up, filling her with heat and hardness.

Her scent carries the same wild ecstasy, bright and strong, woven with that deeper, more powerful emotion, stronger still than he has ever smelled it on her before.

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

He loves that smell and his hold on her throat loosens a bit as he shakily breathes it in. His eyes close in the ecstasy of it all, taste and touch and smell and sound.

"Love you," he says, voice rough and deep as he pushes up into her again.

[hell_in_highheels]

His words, the mere sound of his voice drives her higher. She contracts around him, fingernails tiny bright points of pain on his back, her body pulsing hard around him, her heels urging him on.

Through it all, a breathless whisper, thick with bliss, "Love you, my love, my love."

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

Richard slips back into canine to say, Love my love, mine, my love. It leaves his mouth free to mark her throat, leaving deep red dents in her skin.

He keeps pushing into her, shoving her backside up against the warm slate in his eagerness.

[hell_in_highheels]

She rocks against him, ascending with each bite, each thrust driving her up into that halo of sensation. The stone against her back has no give, and she feels every ounce of his power as he pounds into her.

She holds tight, hearing her own voice rise in a keening cry as her orgasm washes over her. Time slows. She feels the pleasure twisting and rolling through her body in long, hard pulses in synch with his motions.

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

Richard's voice rises to match hers in a deep and sonorous howl. He's panting with effort when it ends, heart racing, arms straining but still holding her steadily.

"Love you," he murmurs gently over her throat, tongue gently tending to the marks he's left.

[hell_in_highheels]

Her breath is ragged, and a joyous laugh bubbles up in her throat. The warm water beats on her skin, and she brushes her hand over his cheek, drawing his eyes back to her face. "I love you, wolf."

Somehow, even as she's situated, she manages a fairly intelligible snippet of canine.

My mate.

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

My mate, he agrees with a happy, proud grin and gives her a sloppy kiss.

"Breakfast?" He inquires hopefully. All this excitement has made him rather ravenous.

[hell_in_highheels]

"Soap first," she laughs. "And then breakfast."

She nuzzles his cheek as he lets her down, and then reaches for a cloth and the soap dispenser. Don't worry, she's quick about it, and with all that hot water, soon they're both squeaky clean.

She tells the shower to shut down and finds a thick terry cloth towel for the both of them.

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

Mmm, soft.

He keeps bumping into her, little touches to let him know she's there, gentle shoulderbumps to remind her of the same. It's been quite some time since he was this happy without any magical influence.

"You said Deitmar stopped by?" He asks, slighly muffled because he's towelling his hair.

[hell_in_highheels]

She echoes those same touches and shoulder bumps, so very glad he is home safe.

She winds her own hair in a towel and twists it on top of her head. "Yes. Interesting young man. Cellular biologist? Said you made him destroy all the samples."

Her hands reach out to touch his skin, stroking down his back.

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

He leans into her hand for as long as it's there.

"I didn't know him as well then as I do now," he says a bit wryly, passing her his towel.

He'd probably still make him destroy the samples. Deitmar can be...opportunistic.

[hell_in_highheels]

She hangs up his towel, and then her own, before moving back into his arms. She steals a kiss, tender and gentle, leading him into the bedroom.

She opens the wardrobe and hands him a green silk robe before slipping into a dove grey one herself.

She cocks an eyebrow at him. "He also told me about Suzi and his meeting with your wolf self."

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

Richard cocks an eyebrow right back at her as he slides into his robe.

"Something which I highly disapprove of and have asked them not to do again. TO the best of my knowledge, they've complied." He stalks over to knot her robe for her.

"I'm not the only werewolf out there, you know," he says with a frown.

[hell_in_highheels]

She leans into him, rubbing her chin against his scruff. "And I'm not helpless," she answers, her tone adamant.

"Regardless, he mentioned it. And he implied that your 'state' as he called it -- the fact that you're deceased -- might impact your ability to transmit the lycanthropy. But," she holds up a finger, "he said we have no way of knowing for sure."

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

"I know," he says quietly, holding and supporting her. "But it's not the sort of thing one tests lightly."

That applies to both statements as far as he's concerned.