[ she doesn't say anything. her head bobs in a quick nod of acknowledgement, but for the most part, daisy doesn't reply. her attentions shift, hands busy unlatching his belt, flicking open the buttons, dropping the zipper; it doesn't take long for the waistband to sag from the weight of the belt, stiff fabric bunching up from the slack.
there's a hum of appreciation as fingertips hook through the belt loops and tug down, her gaze flicking up to his as the garment falls to the floor; her hands make quick work back up the expanse of his bare legs to tease at the shorts underneath, nails toying with the elastic for a moment or two before taking the fabric in hand.
she smiles, then, and stills her hands in place. ]
Is this where you want me to be?
[ kneeling here, touching him so softly, gentle and slow and teasing. or does he want something else? right now, she's willing to give whatever he asks for. a rare concession. ]
[ he swallows. it's difficult to not reach down and make her hands do what he wants them to do but he's gotten the feeling that, if he tried, she'd smack them away so he puts them down on her beds, grips the blanket to give himself something to hold onto. ]
Yeah, you're good right there.
[ she was perfectly freaking fine right there. she could stay there forever if she wanted. she wouldn't and he'd probably reconsider that statement later but right now, it's a good look for her. he likes it, selfish bastard that he is. ]
You're good. [ he nods, feeling his mouth go dry once again. ] I want you there.
Good. [ because she wants to be. right here, with her hands tugging down his shorts and letting them fall to the ground, kicked aside and discarded. from here, it's impossible to ignore the very obvious fact of his arousal, or what she wants to be doing — what she doesn't hesitate to do, even. with not even so much as another syllable, daisy leans forward, hands skimming up his thighs to catch him at the base, fingertips gently toying at sensitive skin before anything else.
she won't tease too much, though. at least, not any more so than the act itself is a tease — because while she's not particularly aggressive, there's a definite air of intentional seduction as her tongue drags from tip to base and then back again, one that doesn't go away as her mouth shifts to envelop him, hands bracing her weight as she rocks back and forth by holding on to his hips for support.
this isn't about marcos making her do something she doesn't want to do. she wouldn't, anyway. she'd sooner bite down than be forced into something like this. no, she does this now because she wants to, because it's something intimate and (hopefully) desirable that she gives of her own accord, a line she's never crossed so long as his intentions haven't been known. a part of herself, however small, that she's kept back.
and maybe she should be keeping it separate, knowing what she does about their inevitable path. maybe this should be something she should reserve for someone she can be with for real, someone who will whisper her actual name between the sheets, someone who knows her whole story and not just the crafted persona's. but, somewhere along the line, daisy blurred the two. skye wants to be with marcos, but daisy does too — shouldn't, but does.
she can't tell him any of that, but she hopes maybe her actions will show him that she wants him all the same. ]
[ he wants to say she doesn't have to do this. he doesn't expect it and doesn't really need it to enjoy his time with her. has he thought about it? sure. has he wanted it to happen? absolutely but he hadn't wanted her to feel obligated.
and though he'd started to tell her that, it's easy to tell that her mind had been pretty well made up. he swallows, fingers curling even tighter into the bedding underneath his hands. it'll be a wonder if he does't rip a hole in them by the time this all ends.
when he breathes, it's noisy and ragged, a very clear sign that she's getting to him already and she's barely done anything. her hands, her mouth, they're just that — it's more intense because it's someone he cares about.
he does, he realizes. he cares. he cares about what she does and what she thinks and who she's with. he cares and it's dangerous but he doesn't care about that. he wants and wants and wants.
he babbles a bit, no real words in the stream of conscious that falls from his lips but he's still pleased he can make noise with what she's doing to him. he blinks his eyes open and peers down at her, making himself watch because that's —
god, he's getting in deep. too deep. not deep enough. too late to stop now, though. he moans, fingers curling into the sheets again and yanking hard. ]
[ her mouth skims down, teeth dragging just enough to be felt, just enough to draw a shiver across his skin from the contact. her tongue drags up, soothing the rush of blood along their wake, and he groans. she smiles, eyes flicking up to his as she pulls back — not to stop, not entirely, just enough that she's able to watch his expression and meet his gaze. just for a moment, just long enough to wink before she's diving back in, hands smoothing down to curve around the back of his thighs.
there's a power in doing this. a bit of control, a bit of tease, but there's something else in it too. attention, devotion, trust. things that have slowly but surely filtered in between them, day by day, things that have led her to wanting to do this for him.
so as he begins to babble, as he tightens in her mouth and groans out loud, daisy reaches one hand forward, gently prying one of his off the sheets and pulling it back, fingertips guiding his to curve across her cheek and along the line of her jaw, giving back just that small amount of control when he might need it the most. she trusts him — not to force her into this, not to change this into something it's not, but to enjoy it, to show her his enjoyment, to let go and relax and let her take care of him the way she knows he wants her to.
it's okay, she wants to say, but she doesn't want to stop either. so she just hopes he understands. ]
[ she fucking winks at him and he moans because she's an asshole. good thing he likes assholes but he's going to remember that wink. he's going to remember it and make sure he repays her tenfold the next time he gets to do something like this to her.
but he's certainly not going to stop this from happening either because it feels amazing. so good. too bad. she doesn't need to do this but he's not about to tell her that right now because he's selfish and greedy and wants this.
his head tips back, eyes shut and breathing rapid. just the mere touch of her hand on his makes him shiver, a full body movement that he stops just before his hips twitch. she guides his hand to her face and he splays his fingers out, brushing some of her hair back and scratching his nails against her nail, never forcing her into doing more, never taking more control than she's given.
he's not a good person but he recognizes that she doesn't have to do this and she's doing it for him. he doesn't want to ruin that even if she's going to ruin him with her mouth and lips and everything. ]
[ she's going to ruin him. it's the only possible outcome, and as she feels the muscles in his legs begin to tremble, she guides him backwards, until his weight is supported leaning up against the bed. if he falls in the process of his orgasm, she'd really rather he not fall on top of her.
but making his knees go weak? that's definitely on the agenda, because once she's satisfied with his positioning, daisy stops holding back. it's not a tease, not gentle; there's nothing but determined, practiced motions — her mouth, her tongue, the scrape of her teeth just enough to shoot shivers down his spine, over and over until he's painfully hard beneath her ministrations, until he doesn't have a choice but to let go.
because she won't pull away until he does, won't relent the onslaught of sensations she plans to give him, no matter how hard he clutches at her hair or how many swear words he babbles out. she won't move backwards until he's satisfied, and only then to swallow, to lick her lips, and to grin — it's almost mean to feel so smug, she thinks, but she really does feel particularly satisfied with herself.
[ he agrees. he agrees wholeheartedly and if he was able to speak right now, he'd tell her that in very, very descriptive words on how much he agrees. but he really can't talk beyond cursing in english, cursing in spanish, and moaning. she's good at this and while maybe that's crude to think about, she is and he'd also compliment her on her ability if, again, he could talk coherently.
maybe later.
now though, now's for keeping his hand in her hair, tugging on it lightly but mostly just giving himself something to touch that aren't sheets on her bed. he never tries to push or press because he doesn't need to. she's doing just fine on her own and he's not going to try and change a good thing.
he can feel when things are close and he tries to push at her shoulder to get her to move because he's not going to last longer and he's not sure if she wants to stay on him when that happens. ]
You need to — I can't — move back. [ or don't but he at least wants to warn her so she has a choice on the matter. ]
this is the most bizarre smut tag i've ever written in my whole life??????
[ it's one of those strange out-of-body experiences, she thinks. she knows he's going to come and she knows it's going to be in her mouth and she knows, too, that it's not going to be the most enjoyable sensation in the world — but at the same time, there's absolutely no other endpoint to this that she's willing to consider. this is something she's giving him, fullstop, end of discussion.
so she doesn't move away or stop or slow down. she lets him ride out the course of all those sensations until she has no choice but to swallow one more time, idly aware of the length of him as he pulls back, breathless and panting and legs wobbly beneath him; it's only then that daisy leans backwards, the back of her hand brushing against her lips, and peers up at him. ]
Hi.
[ and then, once more for good measure, she winks again. ]
Stop winking at me, you asshole. [ and forgive him, he's just going to finally lay down on the bed and try to catch his breath. that had been unexpected but in the best possible way. now though, he needs to be off his feet and not doing a damn thing other than laying there, breathing hard and trying to clear his fuzzy head.
he's quiet for a few moments, one hand across his stomach before he peers down at her, eyes glassy but relaxed for once in his life. ]
Come up here. [ he gestures her closer with his hand before scooting back against the pillows and sighing. ] You didn't have to do that, you know.
[ she could be offended that he'd chosen to call her a rude name, but she's feeling a little too smug about the whole thing to really be bothered. especially not when he's beckoning her up to join him. that, she's more than willing to do, climbing up in order to sink down next to him, her body pressed snug against his side so that her arm can drape against his chest, her head resting on his shoulder. ]
I know. [ soft, reassuring; her mouth brushes a ghost of a kiss against his skin. ] I wanted to.
[ had that not been obvious? he'd enjoyed it a lot. he wasn't going to be able to walk around for a little while which would just be more evidence of how much he'd enjoyed it. ]
[ that was what they'd agreed on, wasn't it? that the lines in the sand they'd both drawn between them, those boundaries they'd set up to keep themselves safe and sane and secure — they'd been washed away, stepped over, disregarded. that even though it was stupid and reckless and dangerous to have emotional connections and loyalties beyond the cartel as a whole, this was what they wanted.
so she repeats it again, soft and sure and sweet. ] You have me, Marcos.
[ and if he listens, he might catch the hint of a warning in it. so be careful, not spoken out loud. whether she means with her or with himself is up for debate. maybe it's both. ]
[ talk about dumb decisions. allowing himself to feel like this again for someone took the cake. but, he doesn't regret it. he doesn't regret it because it makes him feel like he's a person that's worth a little more than what his hands can do to someone. it makes him feel like he's more than just some foot soldier.
her words are simple but affecting. he doesn't say anything back but he nods slightly and turns to press a firm kiss against her forehead, trying to communicate his own thoughts with actions. you have me too coupled with i'll do my best..
the last time he'd done something like this, he'd been the one hurt, left picking up the pieces before moving on.
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there's a hum of appreciation as fingertips hook through the belt loops and tug down, her gaze flicking up to his as the garment falls to the floor; her hands make quick work back up the expanse of his bare legs to tease at the shorts underneath, nails toying with the elastic for a moment or two before taking the fabric in hand.
she smiles, then, and stills her hands in place. ]
Is this where you want me to be?
[ kneeling here, touching him so softly, gentle and slow and teasing. or does he want something else? right now, she's willing to give whatever he asks for. a rare concession. ]
no subject
Yeah, you're good right there.
[ she was perfectly freaking fine right there. she could stay there forever if she wanted. she wouldn't and he'd probably reconsider that statement later but right now, it's a good look for her. he likes it, selfish bastard that he is. ]
You're good. [ he nods, feeling his mouth go dry once again. ] I want you there.
[ just to answer the actual question at hand. ]
no subject
she won't tease too much, though. at least, not any more so than the act itself is a tease — because while she's not particularly aggressive, there's a definite air of intentional seduction as her tongue drags from tip to base and then back again, one that doesn't go away as her mouth shifts to envelop him, hands bracing her weight as she rocks back and forth by holding on to his hips for support.
this isn't about marcos making her do something she doesn't want to do. she wouldn't, anyway. she'd sooner bite down than be forced into something like this. no, she does this now because she wants to, because it's something intimate and (hopefully) desirable that she gives of her own accord, a line she's never crossed so long as his intentions haven't been known. a part of herself, however small, that she's kept back.
and maybe she should be keeping it separate, knowing what she does about their inevitable path. maybe this should be something she should reserve for someone she can be with for real, someone who will whisper her actual name between the sheets, someone who knows her whole story and not just the crafted persona's. but, somewhere along the line, daisy blurred the two. skye wants to be with marcos, but daisy does too — shouldn't, but does.
she can't tell him any of that, but she hopes maybe her actions will show him that she wants him all the same. ]
no subject
and though he'd started to tell her that, it's easy to tell that her mind had been pretty well made up. he swallows, fingers curling even tighter into the bedding underneath his hands. it'll be a wonder if he does't rip a hole in them by the time this all ends.
when he breathes, it's noisy and ragged, a very clear sign that she's getting to him already and she's barely done anything. her hands, her mouth, they're just that — it's more intense because it's someone he cares about.
he does, he realizes. he cares. he cares about what she does and what she thinks and who she's with. he cares and it's dangerous but he doesn't care about that. he wants and wants and wants.
he babbles a bit, no real words in the stream of conscious that falls from his lips but he's still pleased he can make noise with what she's doing to him. he blinks his eyes open and peers down at her, making himself watch because that's —
god, he's getting in deep. too deep. not deep enough. too late to stop now, though. he moans, fingers curling into the sheets again and yanking hard. ]
no subject
there's a power in doing this. a bit of control, a bit of tease, but there's something else in it too. attention, devotion, trust. things that have slowly but surely filtered in between them, day by day, things that have led her to wanting to do this for him.
so as he begins to babble, as he tightens in her mouth and groans out loud, daisy reaches one hand forward, gently prying one of his off the sheets and pulling it back, fingertips guiding his to curve across her cheek and along the line of her jaw, giving back just that small amount of control when he might need it the most. she trusts him — not to force her into this, not to change this into something it's not, but to enjoy it, to show her his enjoyment, to let go and relax and let her take care of him the way she knows he wants her to.
it's okay, she wants to say, but she doesn't want to stop either. so she just hopes he understands. ]
no subject
but he's certainly not going to stop this from happening either because it feels amazing. so good. too bad. she doesn't need to do this but he's not about to tell her that right now because he's selfish and greedy and wants this.
his head tips back, eyes shut and breathing rapid. just the mere touch of her hand on his makes him shiver, a full body movement that he stops just before his hips twitch. she guides his hand to her face and he splays his fingers out, brushing some of her hair back and scratching his nails against her nail, never forcing her into doing more, never taking more control than she's given.
he's not a good person but he recognizes that she doesn't have to do this and she's doing it for him. he doesn't want to ruin that even if she's going to ruin him with her mouth and lips and everything. ]
no subject
but making his knees go weak? that's definitely on the agenda, because once she's satisfied with his positioning, daisy stops holding back. it's not a tease, not gentle; there's nothing but determined, practiced motions — her mouth, her tongue, the scrape of her teeth just enough to shoot shivers down his spine, over and over until he's painfully hard beneath her ministrations, until he doesn't have a choice but to let go.
because she won't pull away until he does, won't relent the onslaught of sensations she plans to give him, no matter how hard he clutches at her hair or how many swear words he babbles out. she won't move backwards until he's satisfied, and only then to swallow, to lick her lips, and to grin — it's almost mean to feel so smug, she thinks, but she really does feel particularly satisfied with herself.
hopefully he agrees. ]
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maybe later.
now though, now's for keeping his hand in her hair, tugging on it lightly but mostly just giving himself something to touch that aren't sheets on her bed. he never tries to push or press because he doesn't need to. she's doing just fine on her own and he's not going to try and change a good thing.
he can feel when things are close and he tries to push at her shoulder to get her to move because he's not going to last longer and he's not sure if she wants to stay on him when that happens. ]
You need to — I can't — move back. [ or don't but he at least wants to warn her so she has a choice on the matter. ]
this is the most bizarre smut tag i've ever written in my whole life??????
so she doesn't move away or stop or slow down. she lets him ride out the course of all those sensations until she has no choice but to swallow one more time, idly aware of the length of him as he pulls back, breathless and panting and legs wobbly beneath him; it's only then that daisy leans backwards, the back of her hand brushing against her lips, and peers up at him. ]
Hi.
[ and then, once more for good measure, she winks again. ]
i'm honored
he's quiet for a few moments, one hand across his stomach before he peers down at her, eyes glassy but relaxed for once in his life. ]
Come up here. [ he gestures her closer with his hand before scooting back against the pillows and sighing. ] You didn't have to do that, you know.
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I know. [ soft, reassuring; her mouth brushes a ghost of a kiss against his skin. ] I wanted to.
[ a beat. ]
Don't try to tell me you didn't enjoy it.
no subject
[ had that not been obvious? he'd enjoyed it a lot. he wasn't going to be able to walk around for a little while which would just be more evidence of how much he'd enjoyed it. ]
I can't even lie about it. I enjoyed it.
[ you're good at that. ]
I enjoy you.
no subject
[ that was what they'd agreed on, wasn't it? that the lines in the sand they'd both drawn between them, those boundaries they'd set up to keep themselves safe and sane and secure — they'd been washed away, stepped over, disregarded. that even though it was stupid and reckless and dangerous to have emotional connections and loyalties beyond the cartel as a whole, this was what they wanted.
so she repeats it again, soft and sure and sweet. ] You have me, Marcos.
[ and if he listens, he might catch the hint of a warning in it. so be careful, not spoken out loud. whether she means with her or with himself is up for debate. maybe it's both. ]
no subject
her words are simple but affecting. he doesn't say anything back but he nods slightly and turns to press a firm kiss against her forehead, trying to communicate his own thoughts with actions. you have me too coupled with i'll do my best..
the last time he'd done something like this, he'd been the one hurt, left picking up the pieces before moving on.
hopefully that wouldn't happen this time. ]