insurgents | OPEN POST.

Seeing him lick his lips just makes her want to taste them more, so she leans in to kiss him, lips soft and parted, her tongue seeking entrance to his mouth while she rocks against him again with a muffled little groan.

His lips part with no hesitance whatsoever, his own tongue brushing lightly against the tip of hers. He spills a choked moan into the kiss too, his whole body tensing and shifting, clearly responsive to the way she's grinding against him, not even thinking about stopping her or putting any distance between them right now - even if he probably should.

God, she loves it. She loves it so much, every sound she can draw from him, every tiny shift in his body that is all because of her. All for her.

She pulls her lips away from his only enough to be able to speak, breath still mingling with his.

"I still got myself off thinking about you when you were gone. Even though I was so angry with you."

She had been so angry, so hurt, and still this had slipped into her mind whenever she tried to relieve some of the frustrated pressure inside her.

She would be nearing the edge, and inevitably what got her over the edge would be a sudden recollection of Bruce. The sounds he made while they were making love, the feeling of his hands on her skin, his lips between her thighs.

It had been depressing at the time, but now... now she finds it rather arousing.

He almost lets out a whine when she breaks the kiss, but the sound turns into a groan when she speaks, images conjured up in his head that, along with the way she's rubbing herself against his crotch, spread a shiver all across his body.

His hands tug on her hips more forcefully, lips parted as he lets out short, audible breaths, still trying hard to keep them paced, an exercise in self-control he's learned to perfect over the years. Granted, he doesn't have much practice in this context, but still.

"I thought about it too... how gorgeous you look when I'm touching you. The face you make-- when you come."

And it had been plenty depressing for him too, not to mention guilt-inducing - especially when he found himself hard just thinking about it. He'd been the one to walk away, it felt almost wrong to be thinking of the good times they'd shared when he knew she was likely suffering so much from his absence.

But now, he didn't really think about that. He just thought about how those memories, along with far more innocent ones, helped him through even the loneliest days - up until now.

She loves the way his grip on her is getting tighter, and she lets him control the pace of their movements now, responding to the way he tugs at her by grinding harder against him with a deep-throated moan.

"I love the way you look at me when I do."

It feels wonderful, the pressure and friction, her weight so present on him, and he's happy beyond words that he gets to experience this much right now, without feeling afraid of losing control. He doesn't stop her because he doesn't yet feel the need to, though he is as attentive to the motions of her body as he is to the pulsing of his own heart.

"You're wonderful to look at... Always."

It's not really about getting anywhere in particular, and she loves that about having sex with him, that it is more about being in the moment together to share love and intimacy than it is about just getting off.

She kisses him, feeling like her body is too small to contain all that she is feeling and that she might just shatter into a million pieces.

"I love you so much it hurts."

It's really a good part of why this feels so good. Even when he eventually has to stop, even if he might end up feeling frustrated beyond words, the pleasure of sharing these moments is more than worth it.

He slides one hand underneath her t-shirt, drawing up the skin of her back, his other hand curling underneath her ass and the back of her thigh, as he tips his head up and returns that kiss.

She slips her tongue between his lips, tasting him (practically devouring him, really). It's a sloppy mess of a kiss but she doesn't care, all that matters right now is what she can feel, and since all that she can feel is Bruce it's all good.

He hums into the kiss, happily tasting her mouth in his, the hand on her back drawing all the way up her spine, then sliding down to her side, slowing to a halt on her waist. The touch lingers there for a while as they kiss, until he eventually breaks it just because he needs some air.

"Should we move to the bed, maybe?"

Nothing against their position now, but the mattress is marginally more comfortable than the chair.

"Maybe."

It is with great reluctance that she gets off his lap, but since it is for a very good cause she manages to stand and step away from him, taking one of his hands to pull him out of his seat.

To be fair, even if it's by his own suggestion, he also mourns the loss of her weight on his lap a little. Still, he's all too quick to follow after when she takes his hand, the erection in his boxers probably noticeable as he gets up, making his way over to the bed.

"We didn't even finish our eggs."

Oh, Trish notices, licking her lips a little as she glances down at it.

"They're not going anywhere."

Stop that, Trish. He really doesn't want to fluster and stumble over his own feet before he makes it to the bed.

"I wasn't all that hungry anymore anyway."

He takes a seat by the edge of the mattress, tugging her closer.

She's not trying to fluster him, she just really, really likes his cock!

She follws him more than willingly, sitting down on the mattress next to him, leaning in to kiss his cheek before she moves away again to lie down, stretching herself out, inviting him to get his fill of all that she has to offer.

He tips his head a little at the kiss, watching her as she lies back on the bed with a small smile on his face. Promptly, he joins her, taking that invitation.

Climbing onto the mattress on his knees, he tugs off his t-shirt, then shifts closer to her. Hands sinking to the mattress on both her sides, he crawls on top of her, gently letting the weight of his body settle over hers, letting out a pleased sound at the pressure and closeness between them.

She wraps her legs around him, encouraging him to let more of his weight settled on top of her. She doesn't think he's too heavy, not right now. Right now she wants to feel him press her into the mattress, wants him solid and warm and hers and there.

"This is home."

Slowly he lets his weight rest on top of hers fully, gasping softly when his bulge presses between her legs. Not that he minds, obviously, and he stays right where he is, his elbows propped on both sides of her head as his fingers sift lightly through her hair.

"Eh... it's alright, I guess."

Said in a plain tone and with a nonchalant shrug, clearly joking.

She laughs and gives his ass a little kick with one of her heels.

"You're such a shit."

But it can't be denied that his dry sense of humour is one of the things that makes her just keep falling more and more in love with him.

He grins, letting out a sound of surprise and shifting a little at that soft kick.

"To be fair-- you knew what you were getting into."

Okay, maybe not entirely. Sometimes it takes a while for his peculiar sense of humor to show.

"No I didn't!"

But that's what you get when you decide to start more or less going steady with a guy after an accidental date that started with you walking in on him after a shower.

Not that she regrets it.

"No, I'm still standing by my statement. And you could've walked away anytime."

But she didn't, and that speaks for itself. Especially considering he has a myriad of other issues far more complicated and running much deeper than his sense of humor.

Yeah, he's a bucket of issues, but he is her bucket of issues.

"Alright, fair enough."

She never did and she never will.

"You're still a shit though."

"Yes, but I'm your shit."

He frowns a little, shaking his head.

"This conversation is starting to sound weird."

That makes her laugh, and she nods, because yes that didn't come out right even if it also came out exactly right.

"Wouldn't be the first time."

Bruce is something of an expert at awkward phrasing after all.

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