defenderofdesmoines | Elliot's Apartment, Dallas, 1963

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Elliot's Apartment, Dallas, 1963 | Early, early morning

Was it a good thing that Annie now had so much experience cauterizing wounds that it hadn't taken her much time at all to get the skin on Diego's abdomen fused back together? For right now, it felt like good thing, at least. To her surprise and concern, he hadn't woken up in the process -- he'd stayed completely out (though breathing), all throughout the removal of his clothes (and when she was less worried, those institution-issued tighty whities were getting some commentary), and cleaning and dressing and briefly burning the wound.

Eventually, Annie had fallen into a restless doze at his side, though the slightest movement had her waking up and reaching to check on Diego every few minutes. And good thing, too, since this most recent time when Annie woke with a start as Diego shifted on the mattress, she noticed immediately that his wound had reopened.

"Shit." She should have gone back over that once she'd established he wasn't badly hurt anywhere else, really. Guess she'd have to do it now.

She moved to press a hand into Diego's chest, prepared to hold him steady in case this time he actually did wake up when she burned him, and moved her other hand low to his abdomen. The lamp in the room gave a soft hum, and Annie's hand illuminated, white-hot enough to re-seal that wound for good this time.

Sorry, Diego. Hopefully he stayed out for a little bit longer.

[for the stabbed guy who is, unfortunately for him, not staying out a little bit longer.]

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"I'm pretty resilient." Especially when it came to this. And if Annie was going to lean over him like that, it just meant he was going to have to place a bite against her neck. He didn't make the rules.

Well, good thing she was pretty much set with the pillows, since that bite just stole Annie's focus entirely and Diego was rewarded with a startled little gasp that faded into a soft moan.

"You're shockingly resilient," she replied when her brain was back online. "It's really impressive."

She didn't just mean his ability spring back from injuries. He was in pretty decent spirits for someone who'd gone through what he'd gone through. (To be fair, though, Kennedy hadn't really come up for a minute.)

Yes, we should all be thankful he wasn't bringing JFK into their sex lives. That would be a bit too far.

"I think you have something to do with it," Diego said, leaning up for another kiss. "You being around makes me stronger or something."

Ew.

Annie smiled into the kiss. "I think you do the same thing for me."

No, Annie. It was the Compound V that let you lift up, like, ten times your bodyweight. Not Diego. But be cute about it, sure.

"No more getting separated, then," she added, sliding her arm around his shoulders just to emphasize the point. "That settles it."

Because they'd had a whole lot of choice in the matter before? Annie wasn't really being serious so much as just wanting to underscore how happy she was to be all wrapped up in him now, and how clingy she was intending to be in light of that.

"If that already wasn't a rule before, it is now," Diego said, sliding his hands over to cup her ass. Just to encourage even more closeness.

Yes please. This was one of those times when there was no close enough, and Annie sighed softly as she leaned in to press a kiss to his ear.

"Totally a rule," she agreed softly, shifting her hips a little in his lap and slipping a hand down between them to wrap around him, minding his abdomen all the while. "One I'm more than happy to enforce, too."

Again: not actually something she had a lot of control over, but suggesting that Annie would kick the ass of anyone who attempted to separate them was kind of more the point right now than, you know, logic.

Now here was the part that would really put Diego's ability to keep still to the test. Because there was still a very fresh wound they were dealing with, here. But also there was touching and it had been a while so the urge to rock up into her hand was high.

He kept himself together. Mostly. Tightening his grip on her ass helped some.

See, and if he kept his hands on her, rather than say, taking it out on the sheets or something, then that would help Annie keep tabs on how he was doing all the better.

Though she knew Diego well enough to recognize that the tightening of his grip probably had less to do with pain and more to do with the three months.

"We're going to take it slow," she promised softly, keeping her mouth close to his ear as she started to move her hand -- not so slow as to be a tease, but definitely obviously keeping a slow, easy tempo in mind.

"Good," he said, letting out a slow breath. This time he couldn't help the small lift of his hips, encouraging more of that touch.

Even with going slow this might not be a great show of his stamina, but he figured he could be forgiven for it this time.

Hey, depending on how his wound held up and whether everyone stayed out of the apartment for awhile, maybe they'd even get a second shot. But this also didn't need to be a marathon. It never was, when it was something like this -- danger heightened everything and being apart heightened it more.

The important part was that Annie felt like she needed to be close to him, and to renew their emotional bond in a physical way. Sex was, as always, a really excellent way to express her feelings for Diego. Sometimes words just didn't cut it on their own.

She took her time shifting into position, her hand moving steadily until she had him angled against her. "Slow," she repeated softly, almost a reassurance, before closing that last little bit of distance as she slid over him and then stopped once their hips were flush to give everyone a second to adjust to that new feeling.

Diego nodded shakily, having to close his eyes and just breathe for a moment at the feeling of Annie around him. He slid his hands up her sides, running his fingers over her skin in a way that was soothing for him (and her too, hopefully).

Slow. He could do this. Nice and slow.

It was soothing for her. And after the last few days -- even if it had just been days for her -- she also needed slow, and soothing, and grounding, please.

But slow didn't mean immobile. She dotted a short string of kisses along Diego's neck and into his beard, letting everyone catch their breath for a moment, and then began to gently rock her hips in his lap.

And already, that was -- you know. Amazing.

"Fuck," he murmured, rocking his hips up to meet hers in response. "You feel amazing."

"So do you," Annie replied softly, tilting her head to kiss him as she moved with him.

One hand was sneaking its way back into his hair again. He did say she needed to do it all the time, you know.

The hair pulling was amazing, even when they were being slow and gentle. It was...anchoring. Let's go with that.

Since she was going to end up having to do most of the work here due to his injury, Diego put his attention to distracting her from that work as much as possible. Namely by sliding one of his hands up to her chest and circling his thumb around one of her nipples.

God, Annie was already making plans (inasmuch as errant, horny thoughts counted as "plans") for how much fun it would be to eventually get a little rough with him, given the hair-pulling. (The beard also factored into her future plans, don't worry.)

"That's so nice," she mumbled, arching against his hand -- which, in turn, resulted in a slight uptick to her rhythm and a slightly sharper tug on his hair, despite how closely she was trying to monitor herself. Couldn't be helped, though.

He also had future plans for that beard, don't you worry.

Diego moved his hips to meet her rhythm, careful not to jostle either of them too much. The slow, steady rhythm was doing a lot for him and his need to cling to Annie right now. He moved his other hand to cup her cheek because why not get more saccharine about this?

Hey, they were saccharine normally and they lived together. Three months apart (even a lopsided three months apart) probably earned more than a little sweetness.

Annie fumbled her hand out of Diego's hair and behind him, grabbing onto the headboard (....couch back? Was this a fold-out? Elliot, come on.) for a little leverage -- not to up her rhythm at all, but rather to maintain it while still being able to focus on Diego. She leaned her forehead against his, her free hand finding a path down his arm until she was holding the hand that wasn't cupping her cheek. Just to, again, be kind of saccharine about this.

What was sadder, the guy who owned the fold-out or the two people having sex on someone else's fold-out?

Diego didn't really care; this was exactly what he needed right now. His breath was starting to come out in pants as the pressure low in his stomach (below the stabbing area) started to build up. He ran his thumb over Annie's cheekbone, giving her a look like she was the only thing in his universe.

Which was kind of true, at the moment. He certainly didn't give a single fuck about the apocalypse right now.

The apocalypse could probably happen around them right now and Annie would find it hard to care. She was singularly focused on Diego, and how he was reacting to her, and how he was making her feel, and how this was still comfortingly so familiar in the midst of unrelenting unfamiliarity.

"I love you," she whispered, locking eyes with Diego. Her expression was pretty similar -- Diego was the only thing that mattered right now, and while it wasn't like she felt like her feelings could get stronger for him, she was so awash with love and sensation right now that she was almost beside herself.

Almost. Not quite. And there was the gentle uptick in rhythm they both needed.

"I love you too," he murmured. Not only was it romantic, but it was keeping the noise level down though Diego had forgotten about that part almost immediately.

He kept one hand on her cheek, but the other went to Annie's waist, encouraging the quicker movement.

For once, she actually did need the encouragement, just because she was still a little wary of hurting him in their mutual enthusiasm. But once his hand found her waist, Annie increased her speed just a little more, her breath starting to come in much shakier than it had been.

For as quiet and slow as they were being, this was still pretty intense. Maybe more intense, really, thanks to the slowness.

"I love you, I love you, I love you," she chanted softly, marking her thrusts with the words until the last you wasn't anything more than a gasp. "Close."

"Me too," he panted, thrusting his hips up a little harder, not caring about his wound anymore. He could worry about it after. "I love you so much."

Annie didn't really care about his wound right now, either. (She would absolutely care after.) Her hand found its way back to his hair, immediately tightening there just as a -- you know what? Anchor. That was a great term to apply to this hair thing, yes, exactly.

She was about to say something else -- maybe a warning, maybe further declarations of love? It didn't much mater, since her orgasm hit her like a ton of bricks with one last thrust against him, and Annie was pressing her face against his shoulder almost as soon as her eyes illuminated.

Good instincts on muffling the cry she couldn't help, sure, but what about that poor, poor 1960s wiring? The lamp buzzed in the room with them, and God only knew what kind of looks they were going to get from Elliot, because Annie had almost certainly done a number on some of that radio and electrical equipment just now.

Diego was on the verge of orgasm and he could still tell that she jacked up the electronics in here from that.

Oh well, could worry about that after. Right now he was following her almost immediately after--even if he hadn't already been close the hair tugging would have just about done it.

It was one of those toe-curling, lightheaded, spots in front of your eyes ones, partially due to how long it had been and partially because it was the sappy, close kind of sex Diego lived for. He knew he was going to pay for it later with his stomach but it was so worth it.

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