She actually snorts and comes forward to kiss him again, bunching his shirt at his shoulder up in her fist. Faye, on the contrary, is nothing if not aggressive, but there are things about her that force her to be unsure, namely the fact that she's been dicked over so many times in the past by other men. But she does trust Frederick, even though he's historically skipped out of town twice now, even though she can sense that simmering just beneath the surface. She trusts him enough to twist when he touches her
( ... )
"No," Faye begins, sitting up and pushing her hair back, "it doesn't, and I'm going to tell you exactly why."
This is obviously very important, and she has to balance on her knees, kneeling on the bed above him, to do this. "Number one, we've been over this. It's only domestic violence when it's you against me. Number two, I am not domestic." And oftentimes this is painfully, painfully true, but, regardless.
"And last but definitely not least, number three." She has to adjust her balance a little because she's starting to lean. Actually she feels a bit drunk, but it's hardly on alcohol. "Number three, I really don't think you care all that much when and if I beat on you." She crosses her arms and smirks. "That's a little worrying, Frederick."
He reaches up, taking her hips again. The expression on his face is a quieter one, though there's still that inkling of intensity in his eyes. There might be something that's almost a blush across his cheekbones, but it's hard to tell with that newly acquired tan.
The lighting in the room is dim anyway, so if there's any sort of blush there she doesn't see it. But she can see the expression on his face just fine, and she's both curious and a little amused. "Why wouldn't it be?" she counters, cupping her hands around his at her waist, as she rocks forward a little again, the bed shifting. But there's a tone to her voice that suggests she isn't being entirely serious about this.
"Because if it was, you're suggesting I should be worried about you as well." Oh yes, we're going there. He tugs her closer, one hand reaching up to coax her down, wanting to kiss her.
"That's not what I said," she replies, eyes narrowed, clearly offended. Except for the part where she completely isn't. And except for the part where he's entirely correct.
She resist at first, actually moving back and away from him, but she realizes that if she does this, she'll probably end up rolling them both onto the floor. Her grace is just that impressive. So she allows him to coax her down, though when she gets there she does nothing, just watches him with raised eyebrows, trying not to grin or smirk or laugh at all.
He doesn't yet kiss her, though he settles her against him, and meets her eyes, eyebrows raised to match hers.
"Faye..." he's taking on just a little bit of 'telling the bastards at the office how it is' airs, but it's still soft spoken enough that combined with his expression, it evens out. Actually, it seems to be trying to balance with the shyness threatening to creep out. "I'd let you handcuff and kick the hell out of me, and I'd enjoy it."
Her mouth is already open to say something but she closes it almost immediately, because the comment that was going to come out was going to be sarcastic and mocking, and she can tell that he's being completely serious with her. For a second her brain just sort of... stutters. She's turning the key but nothing is catching. The lights are on but absolutely no one is home.
And then she lifts an eyebrow and, gradually, the tenants come back inside, the ignition turns, and she realizes what it is that he's just said. Something very low in her stomach uncurls and she presses closer still, tilting her chin up so she can brush her mouth across his, not kissing him yet either but jut lingering. Then she says, very simply, "Oh."
There's nothing confused or remotely offended about it. If the way she situates her legs are any indication, she's not at all opposed; however: "You should probably know that I kick a lot harder than I punch." Her voice stays very soft and quiet, uncharacteristic of her, but she's smirking.
It's the sort of admission he'd never really thought he'd make - not out loud, anyway. The two of them are far more the sort to just let things unravel without pointed assistance. But here he is, having said that. He's still shy because of it, very nearly embarrassed, but her reaction makes him trust her.
He wraps his arms around her, and brushes his nose against hers. "That's all right." And then he kisses her, nipping at her lower lip as he does.
She wants to say something, but at the moment there's nothing to say. That kind of honesty... Faye doesn't get or give that every day, if ever. There's something hard and definite in her stomach that moves to her chest and settles, just as she settles against him, her eyes closing before the kiss ever comes - but she knows it's coming. Just like she knows a million things she thinks about him but will never say.
Faye responds automatically, without thought or intention - well, maybe with thinly veiled intention. And the position that she's laying in - still somewhat above him, in a way, even with his arms around her - makes it easier for her to basically crawl on top of him, though she doesn't move to straddle him or anything just yet. In response to that bite to her lip, she bites his bottom lip back just as good as she gets, maybe a little harder, and says in a rush, "Pushover."
"You like me that way," he says, just as heated, and one hand goes to bury his fingers in her hair, holding her, maybe a little tightly. He is a pushover, yes, but the sort of things he does to push back are always small, subtle, like he knows her better than he aught to.
It's disconcerting, that he might know her better than he should. But of all the people she's ever known, he's the only one, after all this time and all the bullshit, that she could trust with that sort of information. That in itself is, well... bad, because there are reasons she doesn't trust people blindly. Frederick, though, for as long as she can remember, has always been just a little bit different.
Her reaction is instant, almost eager, as she kisses him again, again, barely bothering to breathe. She slides over a little bit more, hip bumping his. "You're right, I like you whipped." Faye smirks - she does it so often, now - and lets her nails bite any bare skin they can find.
He lets his hand tighten in her hair in response to her nails, kissing her slowly in contrast. They're still a little apart, like something is holding them there - like if she gets closer they'll both lose a little bit of control.
"You look so free here," he murmurs the next time they part, and his hand around her curls at her lower back.
"What's that supposed to mean?" she asks, genuinely curious, though it's not really reflected in her tone, since she's trying to both keep the reins on herself and catch her breath at the same time. Bit difficult, all things considered, but that doesn't dissuade her from shifting a little so she can nuzzle his neck. She wants to sit back and just look at him like a normal person, but she's much more comfortable here.
"It's like there's a weight that's lifted off you somewhere," he says, and his hand rubs up and down her back. He tilts his head, nuzzling her. The faint smile on his voice is obvious as he speaks. "Maybe that's weird to say."
"Didn't we already establish that I think you're completely weird?" asks Faye, and she's grinning again. And even though her back is still protesting a bit as his hand moves over it, she feels at ease and comfortable in his hands. Which is a little terrifying, when you think about it but... she's not.
The truth is, she does feel lighter, ever since coming here and getting it out of the way and just being with him. It's like a weight lifted somewhere - even if there are plenty of other ones to take its place, but they aren't at all bad. Right now, she feels so far away from the City and from Mars and Ganymede and all those other idiotic places, as much as both of them had become her home. She feels home with him, and it's a good feeling.
Faye shakes her head and then makes a face when she realizes her line of thought. "You're trying to turn me into a fucking sap, Abberline."
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This is obviously very important, and she has to balance on her knees, kneeling on the bed above him, to do this. "Number one, we've been over this. It's only domestic violence when it's you against me. Number two, I am not domestic." And oftentimes this is painfully, painfully true, but, regardless.
"And last but definitely not least, number three." She has to adjust her balance a little because she's starting to lean. Actually she feels a bit drunk, but it's hardly on alcohol. "Number three, I really don't think you care all that much when and if I beat on you." She crosses her arms and smirks. "That's a little worrying, Frederick."
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"Why is it worrying?"
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She resist at first, actually moving back and away from him, but she realizes that if she does this, she'll probably end up rolling them both onto the floor. Her grace is just that impressive. So she allows him to coax her down, though when she gets there she does nothing, just watches him with raised eyebrows, trying not to grin or smirk or laugh at all.
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"Faye..." he's taking on just a little bit of 'telling the bastards at the office how it is' airs, but it's still soft spoken enough that combined with his expression, it evens out. Actually, it seems to be trying to balance with the shyness threatening to creep out. "I'd let you handcuff and kick the hell out of me, and I'd enjoy it."
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And then she lifts an eyebrow and, gradually, the tenants come back inside, the ignition turns, and she realizes what it is that he's just said. Something very low in her stomach uncurls and she presses closer still, tilting her chin up so she can brush her mouth across his, not kissing him yet either but jut lingering. Then she says, very simply, "Oh."
There's nothing confused or remotely offended about it. If the way she situates her legs are any indication, she's not at all opposed; however: "You should probably know that I kick a lot harder than I punch." Her voice stays very soft and quiet, uncharacteristic of her, but she's smirking.
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He wraps his arms around her, and brushes his nose against hers. "That's all right." And then he kisses her, nipping at her lower lip as he does.
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Faye responds automatically, without thought or intention - well, maybe with thinly veiled intention. And the position that she's laying in - still somewhat above him, in a way, even with his arms around her - makes it easier for her to basically crawl on top of him, though she doesn't move to straddle him or anything just yet. In response to that bite to her lip, she bites his bottom lip back just as good as she gets, maybe a little harder, and says in a rush, "Pushover."
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Her reaction is instant, almost eager, as she kisses him again, again, barely bothering to breathe. She slides over a little bit more, hip bumping his. "You're right, I like you whipped." Faye smirks - she does it so often, now - and lets her nails bite any bare skin they can find.
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"You look so free here," he murmurs the next time they part, and his hand around her curls at her lower back.
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The truth is, she does feel lighter, ever since coming here and getting it out of the way and just being with him. It's like a weight lifted somewhere - even if there are plenty of other ones to take its place, but they aren't at all bad. Right now, she feels so far away from the City and from Mars and Ganymede and all those other idiotic places, as much as both of them had become her home. She feels home with him, and it's a good feeling.
Faye shakes her head and then makes a face when she realizes her line of thought. "You're trying to turn me into a fucking sap, Abberline."
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