"What did you do to pass the time?" He asks one day, out of nowhere while shoveling out some Chinese take out onto his plate in the middle of the afternoon at her cottage. He shifts his gaze to her as he passes off the carton, taking note of her furrowed eyebrows. He's been thinking about it a lot – how she's this different breed of person accumulated from her experiences. "In Baghdad," he supplies, "what did you do to pass the time?"
"We played soccer," she answered with a shrug. She took a bite of his lo mien and leaned in his general direction as she chewed. The table they're huddled near is too small for more than one person to eat, not that she's particularly hungry – he'd tried to entice with the idea of food all morning. She caught the disbelief in his eyes and she smirked. "What? You don't believe me?"
"Oh, I believe you. I just don't see how anyone could play soccer in boots," he refutes. He takes his fork back from her and takes his own bite. Once he swallows the food, he grins at her somewhat seductively. "You probably aren't that good anyway."
"Is that what you think?" She scoffs at his snide remark, both challenging her and teasing her at the same time; she isn't stupid enough to let it go without being noticed. He takes another bite of his food and she peels his fork from his hand to steal another bite of his food. She chews and swallows before he can have the opportunity to say anything and she has a brilliant idea, in her opinion. "I don't think you could beat me."
"It's on," he replies immediately, swallowing his food. He pushes himself to his feet and tosses his fork onto his plate, fighting the urge to playfully shove her back down into her seat. "Got a ball?"
"Hell yes," she answers. She disappears into the garage and comes back with a well rounded soccer ball and her game face on. He laughs at her seriousness as he pushes his Puma running pants down his legs so he is clad in only a pair of shorts, a thin t-shirt, and tennis shoes. "You're not particularly intimidating, Mark, I thought you should know."
Next thing he knows, she's dribbling the ball across the yard, tapping it with her foot like it's a sport that she plays every day and he's realizing just how difficult it is to keep up with her. He wants to tell her that in his defense he played football, a man's game, not soccer but he thinks it's kind of a moot point by now because she's kicking his ass. He can feel the sweat on his brow as his legs carry him to cut her off, but she's talented to a point that he's almost jealous so she jukes him and kicks the ball between the field goals that he's designated.
"It's now 3-0," she points out as he pushes his hands into his hips and tries to catch his breath. He's waiting for the comment that he's sure will follow – something along the lines of who's the bitch now? – And he can't help but grin. She tucks her bottom lip into her mouth as she slams her hand against his stomach. "Give up yet, old man?" She teases.
"Hardly," he growls playfully. He reaches out and grabs her by the waist before she can get too far and pulls her into his chest, shirt drenched with sweat down the front. He grins as he covers her lips with his, teeth tugging at her lip before his tongue darts out to trail along her lips. He can barely breathe as it is, so he decides to pull back and suck in the fresh air; he kind of understands Derek's attachment to the outskirts now. "Just give me a minute to catch my breath."
"You're kidding me, right?" She grins as she fists his shirt to pull him closer, her fingers teasingly dragging down his torso until she can grasp the hem of his shirt. She tugs on his shirt and tosses it somewhere in the direction of the back porch and she cocks an eyebrow, watching him as he smirks at her and grabs her by the hips. Her lips hover over his, "because I had some serious plans for you if you aren't. That's just too bad."
"You're such a cock tease," he growls as she pulls away and heads towards the direction that she'd thrown his shirt.
He follows her lead, pacing himself at a jog to catch up with her much quicker, and lunges for her hand to pull her back into his grasp. Her back collides with his chest and he immediately sweeps her hair to one side to expose the skin of her neck to him, and she gives him better access by tilting her head to the side. He drops seductive kisses along the exposed area, his tongue flitting into the crook of her neck as his hands press into her stomach and his fingers absently slide beneath the waistband of her shorts. He grins when he discovers she's commando and guides them forward.
His fingers glide further down and smoothes over her wet with arousal opening, fingertips skimming over her clit as he nipped at her neck. She rolls her head back as she releases a quiet moan and he feels her wrap her hand around the back of her neck. She hits a chair that's situated on the back porch before she reaches out to brace herself against the wall, his fingers slowly pumping in and out of her.
"Oh god," she breathes out. She wishes she had something to grasp onto, something to remind her that she can hold onto her orgasm much longer than his simple teasing of his tongue on her neck and his fingers inside of her. He hears her whimper and he lifts his other hand not currently disposed and threads it through her hair. "I can't take it anymore," she says, "please."
He grins at her pleas and spins her to face him, his lips immediately capturing hers. His hands slide up her shirt and peel the material from her body, tossing it to the ground and hooking his index fingers under the waistband of her shorts to push down her legs. She kicks the shorts off and cups his face in her hands to guide his lips back to hers because she feels like she can't get enough. He slides his shorts down his hips and wraps his arms around her waist, lifting her into the air and pinning her against the wall.
His lips meet the hollows of her throat as she bites back a scream when he slides into her, her fingers pressing into his skin until her knuckles are white. He releases a groan into her skin as she slides down his shaft before he pushes her into the wall to hold her up as he grinds his hips. He brushes the hair out of her face and smoothes his fingers over her lips before he replaces his touch with a searing kiss, muffling her moans as their lips break apart with each thrust.
His hands hold her at the hips, alternatively trying to fight the urge to skate his hands over her skin and sweep his thumbs over her nipples, but he ultimately gives in and unhooks her bra to do so. Her nails dig moons into his skin and he thrusts harder, faster at the contact. Her quiet moans escalate as he gives her room to breathe, his forehead leaned against hers. He wants to hear her scream because he thinks it's an amazing sound, wants to see her come because it's a beautiful sight, wants to feel her walls contract around him rather than just her heels digging into the small of his back.
"Come on, baby," he mutters.
Her lips hit his again, briefly, but he feels her tongue flutter over his in the fleeting moment and he's surprised to realize that he misses it. He growls deep into the back of his throat as his back muscles spasm beneath her touch, and he can hear her whimpering so he knows she's close; for months they've been doing this, for months he's loved her, for months he's been observant of her mind and body and soul. He thrusts into her again and swallows her scream as her muscles constrict around him, and one more thrust and he's meeting his release right behind her.
"Oh god," she says quietly as she directs his lips back to hers, "I can't breathe." He pulls back to give her space but her fingers press harder into his muscles. "Don't move yet. Don't let me go."
"I won't," he assures.
"I think you should stay," she whispers against his lips. Her eyes are still closed and he takes the opportunity to absently trace her features with his fingertips as though he wants to embed her deep into his memory so he can never forget her. Her warm breath trails over her lips and he lifts his gaze back to her eyes to see her eyes locked on his. "Move in with me?"
"I think I will," he smiles and lightly presses his lips to hers. He tucks her hair back behind her ear again so that he can run his thumb along her jaw line. He releases a breath against her skin as he places lazy kisses where his touch has left its feather light touches. "Marry me? I have a ring. It's somewhere in the house. I've been carrying it around with me like a nerd all weekend trying to decide when the perfect time was."
"And the present is when you found the most appealing?" She grins teasingly as he slowly sets her down and makes sure to keep a firm enough grasp on her until she can stand properly on her own. He doesn't want to take his hands off of her; he wants to spend the rest of his life with someone for the first time in his existence.
"It was the moment I realized that I didn't want to be without you – the moment that I saw what our child would look like."
She considers. "Ask again."
"Will you marry me?"
"Yes."