[ that's not all he intends to do, do not worry. but might as well get the clothing out of the way before they move onto anything else. besides, while she'd been busy trying to get his pants off, he'd been trying to think of where he wanted to do this.
the terrible part of his mind wants to move them to the sofa since that seemed to start this whole thing and would it not be some sort of full circle resolution? or was this a resolution at all? nothing had been settled except they both seemed to agree that this was a good outlet for the anger.
all right yes, this is going to happen unless she stops him. he pulls her away from the wall, moving to kiss her again, biting at her lips and licking into her mouth as he walks backwards, crossing the floor to the sofa until he can twirl them around and give her a firm shove down. ]
Lay down.
[ would she listen or would be stubborn and resist? considering the anger, he has his guess but hopefully she decides to listen for once since he has plans. ]
[ her mouth opens to retort, to insist that the couch is not the place she really wants to let him fuck her senseless — but then he pushes her down, growling a demand, and daisy can only swallow hard, mouth suddenly dry with want.
suddenly, laying down doesn't seem like the worst idea in the world. ]
Okay, [ the word comes out soft, compliant; there's still red-hot anger tinging the edges, but it's tempered by a desire she doesn't often give into — to acquiesce to illya's more commanding nature, to let him be in control. ] I'm laying down.
[ he holds back the smart comment about someone being able to listen because it is probably not the best place for that barb. they are already in the midst of some ridiculous argument and illya would rather not turn it into something outright nasty.
he watches her situate herself and then follows, putting one knee on the sofa, wedged between her leg and the back and braces the other one on the floor. look, he will admit that this is not a very large piece of furniture but it will work for what he wants to do and that is to make her scream in a way that isn't directly at him. ]
Move.
[ your legs that is. he reaches down, nudging one of her knees apart to give himself space and maybe now she will know what he wants to do? again, perhaps the spot isn't ideal but he's committed to the cause and she is going to come apart on this sofa if it takes him all night. ]
[ does she know? to an extent. there's no debate about the want rolling off of him, the tight set of his jaw, the hunger as he leans over her. but what exactly he has in mind still leaves her waiting for an answer. but with him staring her down, she has a feeling she might find out pretty quickly.
especially when he pushes her knees open, shifting her hips back and her legs apart. that's a pretty powerful clue. ]
Okay, [ repeated, swallowing thickly, ] I moved.
[ well, technically he moved her, but still. she even did it when she was asked, okay. she's being a very good listener. she ought to get a prize for this. ]
[ well, he's glad to see that some of of her anger seems to have ebbed away in the face of what he's trying to do. and if he's successful (which there is no reason to think he would not be), she wouldn't be bad afterward either.
he says nothing, reaching to tug the last of her clothing off (and the underwear go into the scattered piles of clothes) before he puts a hand on her knee and bends, letting his mouth drag over the inside of her knee and down her leg, never staying in one place too long since he doesn't want her expecting anything. no, he keeps moving until, lo and behold, his head's actually between her legs just like she'd wanted so long ago.
it had been a bit of a meandering journey to get there and he was still thrumming with irritation but he tries to pour it into what he's doing by licking her, long and slow, to start with, holding her knees with his hands to keep her still. ]
[ the anger ebbs and flows, but the adrenaline still flows through her body, needy and demanding for some kind of outlet even if she no longer wants it to be a fight. touch, as it turns out, is an acceptable alternative — as his head dips down to brush his mouth against her inner thigh, daisy's hands slip into the hair at his crown, fingertips carding through the short crop. not quite tugging, not yet, but... the pressure is there. the promise of urgency.
it's torture, really. to have to be so still, to not be able to squeeze around his shoulders or nudge him in one direction or another, his hands gripping tight around her knees as she writhes in place, wriggling back and forth; she wants to be able to move, to exert that energy in order to push him towards something faster, more aggressive... but she can't. she has to wait.
she hates it, but she has to, because the alternative is clearly him doing nothing at all, and she really doesn't want to do that. him storming off into the bedroom right now is a very low priority — unless it includes him bridal carrying her in there. that'd be acceptable, because the bed really is a better place for this.
[ this sofa is fine. would you stop thinking about the sofa, daisy? how could you even think about it when his mouth was on you and getting ever closer to a spot that would hopefully make you forget your own name and everything about this sofa.
until the next time the sofa came up in an argument which it was sure to do unless action was taken. but that was for later. for now, he was just going to lean up to swipe his tongue against her belly briefly -- just once -- before bowing back down, head between her legs (just like she'd been hoping for earlier) and licking her long and slow, eyes flicking up to gauge her reaction.
he wonders how long he could keep up that pace before she got tired of it and used that grip on his hair to do something about it. hm. time for an experiment because while illya wasn't patient in a lot of things, he could be patient here so while she'd feel his tongue again, it was that same slow drag of slickness before a pause. ]
[ long and slow is not the speed daisy usually requests. it's typically not even a speed she tolerates, for that matter, but tonight she doesn't exactly have much choice. not when his hands are curled firm around her knees, holding her in place, preventing her from pulling away or moving forward... or from doing much of anything at all.
but then he pauses, a smirk ever-present against her skin, and daisy groans, her head tipping forward to level him with an irritable glare. how dare he! ]
What are you doing, [ a growl rolling around the edges of syllables, all that pent-up energy threatening to come out as a fight all over again. ]
I would have thought it obvious. [ he has had his face between your legs before, daisy. this was not an uncommon experience. but, he can hear the sharpness in her tone and he feeds into it, unable to stop himself.
maybe he's still a little irritated too. ]
I am trying to get you off on the sofa. [ because that is where they were, the sofa. and it was fine. ] Hopefully you do not need a diagram for this.
I know that, [ snippy! so snippy! ] I meant, why did you stop.
[ yeah, yeah, on the sofa. she's not acknowledging the sofa comment. she would prefer to do this on the bed, where she can stretch out, but apparently he's boycotting the bed for some reason. probably to make her suffer. to prove her wrong. something. ]
Am I doing something wrong? [ pray tell daisy, what was the issue here? never mind that he's full on stopped because you were questioning him and he's just rubbing circles against your knees with his thumbs.
that was your fault. ]
I think you have known me long enough to know that I can be a great many things you don't expect. [ like incredibly stubborn over a piece of furniture. was that an argument you would have had with any other boyfriend? ]
You stopped. [ clearly a trauma worth repeating. she tries to get up, but the combination of his weight over hers and the firm, steady pressure of his hands on her knees means she's not going anywhere. she's just here to lay down and suffer, apparently. ]
I know you're a pain in my ass, that's for sure. [ annoyed, but the bite is gone. he's frustrating and terrible and constantly trying to one-up her and antagonize her, but she loves him, doesn't she? that goes without questioning; it's as much of a fact (if not more so, lately) as her allegiance to shield. ] You took all my clothes off, and now you're just sitting here mocking me.
[ a wise thing to say? perhaps not but he's not mocking her. he's teasing her, certainly, but he has only larned how to do that from her. and if she's so upset about him stopping, he supposes that he will have to get back to it, won't he?
and he does, moving back down and putting his tongue right back where it had been, licking her once, twice, a few times before sliding his tongue actually inside of her and licking her that way as well.
would that be enough for her demanding ways? he had taken off all her clothes and now he was giving her something he knows she likes.
he's not moving off this sofa unless she throws him off and he's not sure she's strong enough (without those powers of hers) to do that. ]
[ likely also not the wisest thing in the world to say, but daisy says it anyway. she says it even as her head tips back, a low groan of pleasure breathed out as his tongue drags along sensitive skin. even still, she doesn't shut up, because daisy doesn't know how to shut up.
like the energizer bunny, she keeps going, even as her fingertips curl into his hair, even as shuddering breaths shake her chest with each exhale. ]
[ maybe she doesn't quiet completely down but her words turn into mindless sounds and that is something he can deal with because he's the cause. he's the one making her growl and moan and shudder and shake. he's the one licking her open and sliding his tongue inside of her and making her shiver.
he's flicking his tongue over that one particularly sensitive spot, paying very focused attention there in the hopes of making her come apart sooner rather than later.
so, noises or not, he thinks he's made her shut up just fine. ]
[ she doesn't argue — mostly because he doesn't give her anything to argue against — but she doesn't stop talking either. her words slip from pointed arguments to mewls and pants to finally growled, desperate pleas as she trembles underneath him, an assortment of everything from demands to echoes of his name to various curse words spilling out every so often.
she doesn't want to give him the satisfaction of getting her off instead of arguing, but she also really does want to. a dilemma for the ages. ]
[ really, he wonders how you're going to stop from coming if he's got his mouth on you without pause now. he's stopped teasing and is licking and sucking at her relentlessly. he knows where to put his tongue and where to slide his tongue and where to suck and and press to make her come apart.
she's stubborn, she can resist for long periods of time but they're both keyed up and he knows she wants this even if she doesn't want to want this. she does and he intends her to come against his mouth sooner rather than later. ]
[ well. she can't, can she? she can resist all she wants, but she's only human — eventually, even daisy gives in; after what feels like hours (but is likely only minutes), daisy finally stops fighting the desire that's tight in her belly. she comes hard, a whine and a sharp exhale echoing out as her body slumps down against the couch, legs trembling in aftershock even while she tries to catch her breath.
don't you dare look smug. this isn't a victory, it's just unavoidable. she's not dignifying the cheater's path to victory with a compliment right now. ]
[ uh huh. he keeps his face pressed against her while she comes and only moves away when it looks like she's starting to settle down. does he look smug? quite possibly. no, more than quite possibly.
he presses himself back, tucking against the other end of the sofa and watching her recover herself. funny how they haven't moved off the sofa for the entirety of this thing. funny how the sofa worked just fine.
[ dazed and exhausted, she drags an arm over her face, blocking both the ambient light and the sight of his smirking face from her vision while she catches her breath. doesn't matter if he's just gotten her off, she's not giving him the satisfaction of "i told you so".
the orgasm might have been great, but she still thinks it's dumb that he won't sleep in their bed without her. sorry, illya, but the argument lives on. kind of. ]
If we buy a new bed together, will you sleep in it? [ her voice is low, rough from exertion, but sincere all the same. ] You're gonna break my neck on this couch one of these days.
[ he just...has to let that be known. before he says anything else though, he gets to his feet and wanders into the kitchen to get her a bottle of water that he holds in front of her until she finally starts using her eyes again.
is he still smirking when she takes her arm away? probably.
he doesn't bother putting clothes back on when he retakes his seat at the other end of the sofa. ]
The sofa worked just fine for what you just enjoyed. [ smirk. ] You do not need to get rid of your bed because of me.
I'm not getting rid of it because of you. [ important distinction, punctuated by a long drag off the bottle. she's thirsty. ] For you.
[ now that her head's not spinning, daisy pulls herself upright, knees dragged up to her chest so that she can rest her chin on them, her arms slung around her legs for support. ]
You call it my bed. My apartment. It drives me crazy. [ there's no joking in her tone. this is a confession, a sincere one. ] I want this to feel like our space. If we need to pick out a new bed or find a new apartment for you to feel comfortable, then we'll do that.
[ if he were a different man, he might make a comment about her restarting this conversation while she was naked and he was mostly naked. but, he does not make that comment. it's not the first time they've had a conversation while one of them has been naked. they'd even argued sans clothing.
it was a talent. ]
I hadn't realized you'd noticed that.
[ which, yes, is an admittance that he knows he does that. his only excuse was that it was extremely difficult to go from a home and life he'd known to a city that confounded him to a place that he couldn't seem to get a foothold in. it didn't feel like his just yet. ]
[ she pays attention. and she knows it's hard. hell, sometimes daisy struggled to reconcile the life she'd led in new amsterdam versus the life she'd been dumped back into here in what was her own present day. she had no idea how illya managed to find himself still in a relative future, in another country, and not feel completely lost.
the fact that he still managed to carve out a niche for himself remains impressive to her; though she never revealed his backstory to anyone on her own, she's always quick to express her pride in him when it comes up. which is... admittedly pretty often, mostly because she can't keep his name out of her mouth.
what is love. ]
And yeah, I like my shit, but I don't love it. [ do you see her point? it's a big bulls-eye of a point, illya ] I didn't ask my bed to move in with me, did I? I just bought it.
[ at goodwill, for that matter, for half-price. she's not attached to it. ]
You're more important to me than a bed, babe. Don't you know that?
[ it is hard to forget those initial few days after he'd ended up out of new amsterdam and here. daisy had been nothing but accommodating because his moods had bounced from one extreme to another. while the last thing he wanted to do was leave her, he also didn't want to be a burden or an obligation by once again being out of time and place.
he'd offered to find a place to live on his own. she'd been insistent and encouraging even when he'd glared or snapped. and that is how he'd come to be living with her. but that edge of 'this isn't mine' remained and remained and remained. ]
I...know. [ and he does. he really does! but sometimes he doesn't think he should be. this is her life and he can't help but feel like an intruder when he doesn't know one of her friends or doesn't know where something is in the city. ]
I love you too. [ obviously. ] And I want to be here. I am sorry if I gave the impression that I do not. I don't think I could exist anywhere without you at this point.
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the terrible part of his mind wants to move them to the sofa since that seemed to start this whole thing and would it not be some sort of full circle resolution? or was this a resolution at all? nothing had been settled except they both seemed to agree that this was a good outlet for the anger.
all right yes, this is going to happen unless she stops him. he pulls her away from the wall, moving to kiss her again, biting at her lips and licking into her mouth as he walks backwards, crossing the floor to the sofa until he can twirl them around and give her a firm shove down. ]
Lay down.
[ would she listen or would be stubborn and resist? considering the anger, he has his guess but hopefully she decides to listen for once since he has plans. ]
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suddenly, laying down doesn't seem like the worst idea in the world. ]
Okay, [ the word comes out soft, compliant; there's still red-hot anger tinging the edges, but it's tempered by a desire she doesn't often give into — to acquiesce to illya's more commanding nature, to let him be in control. ] I'm laying down.
[ now what exactly do you have in mind? ]
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he watches her situate herself and then follows, putting one knee on the sofa, wedged between her leg and the back and braces the other one on the floor. look, he will admit that this is not a very large piece of furniture but it will work for what he wants to do and that is to make her scream in a way that isn't directly at him. ]
Move.
[ your legs that is. he reaches down, nudging one of her knees apart to give himself space and maybe now she will know what he wants to do? again, perhaps the spot isn't ideal but he's committed to the cause and she is going to come apart on this sofa if it takes him all night. ]
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especially when he pushes her knees open, shifting her hips back and her legs apart. that's a pretty powerful clue. ]
Okay, [ repeated, swallowing thickly, ] I moved.
[ well, technically he moved her, but still. she even did it when she was asked, okay. she's being a very good listener. she ought to get a prize for this. ]
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he says nothing, reaching to tug the last of her clothing off (and the underwear go into the scattered piles of clothes) before he puts a hand on her knee and bends, letting his mouth drag over the inside of her knee and down her leg, never staying in one place too long since he doesn't want her expecting anything. no, he keeps moving until, lo and behold, his head's actually between her legs just like she'd wanted so long ago.
it had been a bit of a meandering journey to get there and he was still thrumming with irritation but he tries to pour it into what he's doing by licking her, long and slow, to start with, holding her knees with his hands to keep her still. ]
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it's torture, really. to have to be so still, to not be able to squeeze around his shoulders or nudge him in one direction or another, his hands gripping tight around her knees as she writhes in place, wriggling back and forth; she wants to be able to move, to exert that energy in order to push him towards something faster, more aggressive... but she can't. she has to wait.
she hates it, but she has to, because the alternative is clearly him doing nothing at all, and she really doesn't want to do that. him storming off into the bedroom right now is a very low priority — unless it includes him bridal carrying her in there. that'd be acceptable, because the bed really is a better place for this.
because this couch? is still too small. ]
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until the next time the sofa came up in an argument which it was sure to do unless action was taken. but that was for later. for now, he was just going to lean up to swipe his tongue against her belly briefly -- just once -- before bowing back down, head between her legs (just like she'd been hoping for earlier) and licking her long and slow, eyes flicking up to gauge her reaction.
he wonders how long he could keep up that pace before she got tired of it and used that grip on his hair to do something about it. hm. time for an experiment because while illya wasn't patient in a lot of things, he could be patient here so while she'd feel his tongue again, it was that same slow drag of slickness before a pause. ]
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but then he pauses, a smirk ever-present against her skin, and daisy groans, her head tipping forward to level him with an irritable glare. how dare he! ]
What are you doing, [ a growl rolling around the edges of syllables, all that pent-up energy threatening to come out as a fight all over again. ]
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maybe he's still a little irritated too. ]
I am trying to get you off on the sofa. [ because that is where they were, the sofa. and it was fine. ] Hopefully you do not need a diagram for this.
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[ yeah, yeah, on the sofa. she's not acknowledging the sofa comment. she would prefer to do this on the bed, where she can stretch out, but apparently he's boycotting the bed for some reason. probably to make her suffer. to prove her wrong. something. ]
I can't believe you're being such a tease.
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that was your fault. ]
I think you have known me long enough to know that I can be a great many things you don't expect. [ like incredibly stubborn over a piece of furniture. was that an argument you would have had with any other boyfriend? ]
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I know you're a pain in my ass, that's for sure. [ annoyed, but the bite is gone. he's frustrating and terrible and constantly trying to one-up her and antagonize her, but she loves him, doesn't she? that goes without questioning; it's as much of a fact (if not more so, lately) as her allegiance to shield. ] You took all my clothes off, and now you're just sitting here mocking me.
[ a huff. ]
On the couch.
[ another huff. ]
You should have been in bed.
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[ a wise thing to say? perhaps not but he's not mocking her. he's teasing her, certainly, but he has only larned how to do that from her. and if she's so upset about him stopping, he supposes that he will have to get back to it, won't he?
and he does, moving back down and putting his tongue right back where it had been, licking her once, twice, a few times before sliding his tongue actually inside of her and licking her that way as well.
would that be enough for her demanding ways? he had taken off all her clothes and now he was giving her something he knows she likes.
he's not moving off this sofa unless she throws him off and he's not sure she's strong enough (without those powers of hers) to do that. ]
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[ likely also not the wisest thing in the world to say, but daisy says it anyway. she says it even as her head tips back, a low groan of pleasure breathed out as his tongue drags along sensitive skin. even still, she doesn't shut up, because daisy doesn't know how to shut up.
like the energizer bunny, she keeps going, even as her fingertips curl into his hair, even as shuddering breaths shake her chest with each exhale. ]
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he's flicking his tongue over that one particularly sensitive spot, paying very focused attention there in the hopes of making her come apart sooner rather than later.
so, noises or not, he thinks he's made her shut up just fine. ]
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she doesn't want to give him the satisfaction of getting her off instead of arguing, but she also really does want to. a dilemma for the ages. ]
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she's stubborn, she can resist for long periods of time but they're both keyed up and he knows she wants this even if she doesn't want to want this. she does and he intends her to come against his mouth sooner rather than later. ]
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don't you dare look smug. this isn't a victory, it's just unavoidable. she's not dignifying the cheater's path to victory with a compliment right now. ]
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he presses himself back, tucking against the other end of the sofa and watching her recover herself. funny how they haven't moved off the sofa for the entirety of this thing. funny how the sofa worked just fine.
so yes, he's smug. ]
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the orgasm might have been great, but she still thinks it's dumb that he won't sleep in their bed without her. sorry, illya, but the argument lives on. kind of. ]
If we buy a new bed together, will you sleep in it? [ her voice is low, rough from exertion, but sincere all the same. ] You're gonna break my neck on this couch one of these days.
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[ he just...has to let that be known. before he says anything else though, he gets to his feet and wanders into the kitchen to get her a bottle of water that he holds in front of her until she finally starts using her eyes again.
is he still smirking when she takes her arm away? probably.
he doesn't bother putting clothes back on when he retakes his seat at the other end of the sofa. ]
The sofa worked just fine for what you just enjoyed. [ smirk. ] You do not need to get rid of your bed because of me.
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[ now that her head's not spinning, daisy pulls herself upright, knees dragged up to her chest so that she can rest her chin on them, her arms slung around her legs for support. ]
You call it my bed. My apartment. It drives me crazy. [ there's no joking in her tone. this is a confession, a sincere one. ] I want this to feel like our space. If we need to pick out a new bed or find a new apartment for you to feel comfortable, then we'll do that.
[ her gaze steadies on his ]
Okay?
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it was a talent. ]
I hadn't realized you'd noticed that.
[ which, yes, is an admittance that he knows he does that. his only excuse was that it was extremely difficult to go from a home and life he'd known to a city that confounded him to a place that he couldn't seem to get a foothold in. it didn't feel like his just yet. ]
You like your furniture. You like your apartment.
[ were his opinions really that important? ]
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[ she pays attention. and she knows it's hard. hell, sometimes daisy struggled to reconcile the life she'd led in new amsterdam versus the life she'd been dumped back into here in what was her own present day. she had no idea how illya managed to find himself still in a relative future, in another country, and not feel completely lost.
the fact that he still managed to carve out a niche for himself remains impressive to her; though she never revealed his backstory to anyone on her own, she's always quick to express her pride in him when it comes up. which is... admittedly pretty often, mostly because she can't keep his name out of her mouth.
what is love. ]
And yeah, I like my shit, but I don't love it. [ do you see her point? it's a big bulls-eye of a point, illya ] I didn't ask my bed to move in with me, did I? I just bought it.
[ at goodwill, for that matter, for half-price. she's not attached to it. ]
You're more important to me than a bed, babe. Don't you know that?
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he'd offered to find a place to live on his own. she'd been insistent and encouraging even when he'd glared or snapped. and that is how he'd come to be living with her. but that edge of 'this isn't mine' remained and remained and remained. ]
I...know. [ and he does. he really does! but sometimes he doesn't think he should be. this is her life and he can't help but feel like an intruder when he doesn't know one of her friends or doesn't know where something is in the city. ]
I love you too. [ obviously. ] And I want to be here. I am sorry if I gave the impression that I do not. I don't think I could exist anywhere without you at this point.
[ so. yes. ]
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