marineris | open post!

It takes too long for her to register what he's doing, and when he breaks the kiss, she lets out a soft noise of complaint. God, his voice does things to her, especially in that tone. Her mind struggles to comprehend what he's saying, but when she does, she grips the front of his jumpsuit again and tries to tug him down.

"Come here, then."

It really isn't a hard thing to persuade him to do - even if the angle of approach really isn't one that makes it particularly easy. He ends up leaning his hip on the edge of the medical chair, shifting up until he's almost sitting on it as he leans down, a hand sliding onto her opposite hip mostly to brace himself as he takes another kiss, far more certain than the first one had been.

She smiles as he leans down, slipping one hand up to cup the back of his head, fingers tangling through his hair. Her heart stutters when his hand grips her hip, and she shifts to give him more room, enough for him to straddle her, if he's brave enough.

She makes room and it's easy to see where he would fit, but he's hyper aware of the wound at her side - the blue glow pulsing as it healed. So he broke the kiss for a second, glancing down and calculating, trying to remind himself that maybe this wasn't the best time or place fo--

Oh, he was already sliding a leg over her thighs, careful to avoid the wound, planting his hand next to her head as he leaned in again, taking a hungry kiss.

Instinct was taking precedence over thought, apparently.

The thought did catch up, however, and - without breaking the kiss - he muttered breathlessly into her lips: "You do remember you've just been shot, right?"

She hums approvingly, her hand sliding down to his thigh to help position him, gripping his leg as he settles. She kisses him back readily, letting out a frustrated breath when he pulls away again.

"Guess you're just going to have to be gentle then, huh?"

He's barely even leaning his weight on her. She can definitely handle it.

There's something about those words that make his heart thump painfully in his chest: an unspoken promise, maybe, that there would be something to be gentle with. His brain quickly supplied an array of things that would require gentleness to accomplish, and he felt the heat rise around his collar again, but this time it came with a grin that he couldn't quite stop.

This was real, and was actually happening, and wasn't just an idle fantasy that played in his head while he was lying in his bunk and turning over their last video conversation, snatched between duties and planets. She was here, she wanted to be here, she was staying here, and she was kissing him.

He let out a breathy chuckle as he leaned down again, pressing a warm kiss to her lips, his own parted as he deepened it, drinking her in. The reality was far better than any idle fantasy he'd ever had - in those she always ended up laughing and shoving him off. Even if he'd tried to imagine them together, in a deeper form of passion, it always ended up like a game of chicken that she had to laugh and remind him wasn't real.

But damn, she tasted like nothing else he'd ever known, and he was pretty sure he'd be dreaming about it for a long time, even if she never kissed him again.

He broke the kiss again, but only so he could tilt his head, pressing a heated kiss to her jaw, then another to her ear, his heart rate starting to gallop.

"Just how gentle do you want me to be, Gunny?" He asked, and his voice was far huskier than it had been even a minute ago.

Bobbie is already planning on doing this again at the first possible opportunity and as often as possible. She hasn't allowed herself to fantasize about it because she didn't think this would actually happen, and there was no point in torturing herself. Now, though, she can't imagine how she thought she'd be able to ignore her feelings indefinitely. His beard brushes against her skin, his lips at her ear, and her eyes flutter closed as arousal curls low in her gut.

"How gentle do you think you can manage?" The question comes out teasing, but her voice is already little rough.

Christ, but he felt like he was jumping right into the deep end, and he couldn't even bring himself to mind. A week ago, maybe. He would have hemmed and hawed and made himself nervous about it, but now? Every few seconds he felt Bobbie's blood well under his hands.

Maybe it was because he didn't want to waste time and maybe it was because he just wanted to feel alive and maybe it was because he was half afraid that she'd change her mind - but god damn did her words have an effect on him.

He swallowed, shifting his hips back a little so that he could put a little weight on her thighs, pressing a kiss to her throat as his free hand came up and cupped the other side of her face.

"Flyin' takes a very delicate touch," he murmured against her skin, trying to ignore the way his heart was slamming almost erratically against his ribs. And Christ, but he wanted to touch her. "I think I can manage, long as you tell me if I ain't--"

Suddenly, Bobbie is finding it harder to breathe, and her grip on his thigh tightens, her fingers digging into him. He shifts and she shifts with him, her hips tilting up. She might actually die, with the way his lips are moving against her skin and the way he's muttering against her throat, but at this point, she thinks she'd be perfectly fine with it. Her head turns, just enough for her lips to brush against his ear, her breathing unsteady.

"You're not going to hurt me," she manages. "Give me a crash course, sailor."

"Aye aye, sir," He murmurs, a smile catching at his lips.

He's careful not to actually angle his hips down against hers, as much as he wants to - he's pretty sure any weight there will definitely not help the wound.

In fact he's pretty sure none of this will help the wound but he also can't quite bring himself to stop. It's a terrible plan, but it's hard not to notice the way that her breath catches, or the way her body shifts with his, and any idea he had that this might not be fully reciprocated is evaporating.

He groaned, his head ducking further, lips trailing down her throat, parting as he moved down, tracing the line of her tank top down from her shoulder. He should stop. He should stop? He should definitely stop. And yet, instead, his free hand is gently tugging at the edge of her shirt - the opposite side from the wound - and carefully, oh so carefully so that the fabric doesn't pull at the bandage - he starts sliding it up her stomach, fingers trailing on her skin as he did.

She knows this is an absolutely terrible idea. She's just gotten out of surgery, and even if the autodocs feel near magical, they don't actually perform miracles. Any doctor or medic would be horrified that they're even entertaining this idea, but Bobbie couldn't care less if she tried. She missed him, more than she'd even realized, and then she came terrifyingly close to losing him in the slow zone. Bobbie can deal with a little pain, but right now, she can't imagine dealing with him pulling away.

She's already trembling with anticipation as he works his way down, and by the time his hand slips under her shirt, she's struggling to catch her breath, his touch coaxing a quiet moan from her. Usually, she'd be more involved than this, but she knows that if she moves much, this whole terrible plan is going to disintegrate instantly, so she just tangles her fingers in his hair and forces herself to stay where she is.

It's strangely quiet - he didn't even realise he was holding his breath until he heard that moan slip from her lips and he suddenly recognized his need for air. The sound had sent a pulse of arousal through him, and even without pressing his hips down against her, it was becoming impossible to miss the way his body was reacting, the fabric of his jumpsuit drawing tight across his groin.

He continues to slowly push the fabric of her shirt up, keeping one eye on he wound and the other on the quiver in her lips, the flutter of her chest. He groans when her fingers tighten in his hair, and he resists putting a hand down between his legs. Instead he just let his fingers trace each of her ribs as they were exposed.

He moved, finally, shifting up to press a kiss to her lips just as the shirt slipped up high enough to bare a sliver of a curve - the underside of a bare breast - and it made Alex's heart stutter. "I missed you," he admitted in a husky whisper, "if I'd lost you--" he cut off, his hand making a point completely different from the one his lips was making as the backs of two fingers trailed down the underside of her breast. Christ, it was soft. Way too soft for something attached to a Martian marine, and yet.:.

God, she doesn't know if she can manage this. It feels impossible to stay still, not when she wants to press flush against him, not when she can feel how hard he's getting even though she can barely do anything about it. She bites her lip, shuddering as his fingers move up, her breathing stuttering as he touches her breast. She'd asked for gentle, and this is nearly torturous in a way she never wants to stop.

Bobbie shifts just enough to get a leg in between his, so she can press her thigh up against his groin, trying to offer some sort of friction even though she can't rock her hips against his like she desperately wants to. "I missed you, too," she murmurs back, her voice shaky with need and the struggle to control herself. "I missed you every god damn day we were apart."

Her thigh presses up against him and the gasping groan that it pulls from his lips shudders through him, his head Fucking, forehead pressing against her collarbone as his brain stutters and tries to reset. He can't help it, can't help the way his hips roll slightly to rub himself against her thigh, and he is hard. For something he really shouldn't be doing, he's incredibly hard, and maybe the two aren't exactly unrelated. He tries not to rut against her, doesn't want to jar her and cause pain, but that just ends up meaning that he's dragging himself torturously slow against her.

The words have almost as much of an effect as the motion does, and a warm pleased flush spreads through him, pressing a kiss to her chest as he rocked against her. "God, Gunny, watchin' you go was the worst thing that-- I would have rather been beat up by a bunch of kids, again, a hundred more times --"

He cuts off because he finally regained his capacity to think, and his first thought is that he needs to kiss her, badly, and so he does, taking her lips with a deep longing, as if making up for lost time. His hand remembers what it was doing, too, and his fingers slide up under fabric, tracing along the curve of her breast, his thumb brushing against incredibly soft skin with a feather-light touch, just barely brushing her nipple on the first pass.

His reaction makes her head swim, and it takes every ounce of willpower she has not to pull him down against her. Her side is beginning to ache, but she ignores it, focuses on the way his words make her heart pound instead. She's about to tell him that he won't have to watch her go this time when he kisses her, and her mind goes blissfully blank for a moment as she returns it hungrily. His hand brushes against her and she arches up into his touch, her hands tangling in his jumpsuit as she tries to keep herself under control.

She breaks the kiss just for a moment, just long enough to answer him, because she thinks he needs to hear it. "I'm not going anywhere this time." It's shaky and whispered, and then she gives up on being coherent altogether when her lips meet his again.

He does need to hear it, and it sounds like far more of a promise than perhaps the words were meant to imply - or perhaps they were meant to give just as much promise as they did. He meets her hungry kiss regardless, hips rolling against her with a little more force than he meant, the need to be close and to feel her against him momentarily overriding his judgement. His fingers curl into a firm grip around her breast, kneading, and he breaks off the kiss only so he can duck his head down and press a few slightly feverish kisses to her sternum, ignoring the bunched up fabric as he shifted down, groaning against her as he trailed kisses, beard brushing both her skin and his own fingers as his lips finally found the crest of her breast, and he gently pulled her nipple into his lips with his teeth.

Bobbie gasps, recognizing distantly that she's breathing too quickly, but every time he groans, it makes her heart race. Her hands slide down to his hips, gripping the belt loops of his jumpsuit to keep him flush against her, and it's just instinct to grind up against him.

That, combined with how tense she is from trying to go so easy, is what finally does it. Her back arches and her stitches pull painfully, and this time when she gasps, it isn't a pleased sound.

For half a second his brain shut off completely, the pure need overriding everything else as she grinded against him and he rolled his hips to meet her, and the friction nearly caused his brain to short circuit--

But the sudden gasp of pain very quickly brought everything to a halt. He immediately sat up, pushing himself completely off of her, weight balanced on one hand next to her head and his knees braced on either side of her thighs. The hand that seconds ago has been indulging in a massage was already reaching to the wound - not to touch it, just to hover as he checked it.

He was flushed and his heart was going a million miles a second and god damn he was hard as a rock, but he was absolutely ignoring that right now.

"Easy, Gunny," he said, a little breathlessly, "Think that - think that might be where we have to call it--"

He pulls away and she groans in frustration, head tipping back to rest against the back of the chair again. She has half a mind to just pull him down and kiss him again, but she knows he's being responsible here, and she doesn't want him to be worried about hurting her the entire time.

"God damn it." She lets out a breath, slow and shaky. "You could just hold me down."

She's... half kidding.

He gives her an amused, apologetic smile, flushed with warmth and affection. "I'm flattered that you think I could," he teases with a rough low voice. "But I'm pretty sure you could bench press me if you put your mind to it."

It was honestly awful, having to pull himself away, but unlike at the beginning where he was frantic to be with her and half afraid this would be his only chance, at the moment he's not actually that worried about it. If she had felt even half as much as he did, there was no way that she wouldn't want this again.

Just, you know. Hopefully with less surgery, next time.

He slid off the chair and back to the floor, having to reach down and adjust his jumpsuit over his groin, before he leaned over and pressed a warm kiss to her lips. "Sorry, Gunny. Got a little carried away."

This kiss is much more chaste, as difficult as it is. Even just this distance between them feels like too much, and she sighs, sitting up to wrap her arms around him and bury her face in his shoulder.

"Stay. I'll behave myself."

Despite himself, he's a little surprised by the hug, and it takes a few seconds before he wraps his arms back around her and gently returns the embrace.

"I ain't goin' anywhere," he murmured. "But I would get my ass rightly kicked for tearin' those stitches open." He paused, pulling out of her arms just far enough to be able to meet her eyes and keep her gaze. The words caught, a hundred things he wanted to say and none of them good enough, so instead he swallowed, silently, and gently pushed some of those long, loose curls behind her ear.

She smiles back, arms still wrapped around him, affection obvious in her expression. Bobbie leans into his touch, sighing contentedly. "Technically it would have been me ripping the stitches. You're off the hook.

It's incredible, the fact that she can look that contented, that pleased, and have it be because of him. It's almost unbelievable, and probably would have been, if he hadn't been so very present for the build up to it.

"Pretty sure I'd be at least partially responsible," He chuckled, lowly, and smiled so wide it hurt. He hovered, for a second, fingers brushing down her cheek next to her ear, but couldn't stop himself from leaning in again. Couldn't help but take another kiss, long and slow and deep, trying to press every ounce of happiness that was blooming in him back into that kiss.

It isn't often that someone gives her butterflies. In fact, she can't remember the last time anyone did, but Alex manages it. She kisses him back, relaxing as she does, untangling one hand from the fabric of his jumpsuit to cup his cheek. When she finally forces herself to pull back, she can't stop herself from grinning, leaning forward to rest her forehead against his.

"I think it'd be worth it."

WILL THEY THOUGH

ONE DAY. SOME MEME. SOMEWHERE. modern au meme....

wtf a modern au would be cute

we should do it

WE SHOULD TBH

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