Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognize…
A/N: Okay, well this got a little out of hand. Again. So the thing is that I wanted this scene to be the opening of the chapter which deals with 2x11 – Pahele but it just kept growing so I decided to post it as a separate story. I seriously don't know where all this smut filled my kind of angst is coming from, I'm just wired wrong I think. Anyway, enjoy!
This is a follow-up to After Dark and thank you all the reviews and favs, you are the best.
Tell me what you think!
In the morning when Steve walks back to their bedroom after his shower, clad only in a towel, he finds Kono sitting on the bed. She doesn't say a word just stares at him thoughtfully and he knows that she already decided what she's going to do with him.
"Come here, please." She finally speaks up, patting the bed beside him.
He doesn't move at first, just keeps standing there with arms crossed, sweeping his eyes over her form instead, searching for any sign of lingering distress from the previous night but she looks relaxed, there's no dark circles under her eyes, no blank expression. She looks fine, which is a relief.
"Finally," she mutters when he joins her on the bed. She's straddling his lap with one graceful move and it makes them both shiver and Steve's eyebrows perk up in a classic question. "No, not sex now. Shut up. I - just shut up."
She doesn't know what she sounds like, despite the quiver she can recognize. Whatever it is, Steve goes still and pliant beneath her, hands fisted on the bed so he can look up at her, passive and perfect and utterly accepting.
It's kind of humbling, really, how this big bad Navy SEAL can be like that, just for her.
She starts with his arms. The muscles are tense, long cords of them creating valleys in his skin. That she's familiar with, but this time she concentrates on the shadow the hair forms, how it's coarse but not rough against her fingers as she dances them up and down, circling his elbows before sliding back to trace the thin skin of his strong wide wrists, his heartbeat pounding blue against her nails.
She cups over his shoulders, feeling warm skin and protruding bone against her palm, before testing the biceps, she pretends she doesn't love around her, the ones that hold her up when she stumbles and rocks her to sleep when the nightmares come. She traces the outlines of his tattoos, ghosting her fingertips over the colorful masterpieces.
She ignores his chest not because she dislikes it, come on, his pecks are something to die for and his collarbones are just begging to be nipped at, but because this is not new territory.
Steve swallows when she touches his neck, her fingers dark against the tan he's building ever since he came back to Hawaii. The sun is hot here, streaming golden and glowing even with the window shades drawn and he soaks it up without a single red blotch. Pressing against the lower grains reveals paler skin and she can't help but lean down, to taste the difference with her tongue.
His scruff is rough against her lips, but she doesn't mind. Not this time. She enjoys it far more than the last time maybe because now he's on vacation and not a fugitive with a knife wound.
"What are you doing?" His voice travels up through her skin more than it does her ears. "Kono?"
"Shh."
She kisses his Adam's apple, not so protruding, but it bobs enticingly under her lips. It's covered with stiff, bristling hair too but it doesn't hurt. It feels good against her skin. When she comes away, she knows her cheek and chin will be burned, tinged with red, the way her thighs were the previous morning or a lot of other times before, and perversely she hopes someone will see. She wants them to look at this man, big and strong, bristling with beard that he usually shaves multiple times, and know that he's hers.
This beautiful man is hers.
By the time she reaches his mouth, after traveling high up on his cheeks, and then further over, the softness of his lips is a shock. His scruff burns against the outside of her lips, creasing the delicate skin, but she doesn't mind.
Kissing Steve is easy as breathing. Easier, really, since sometimes the air seems to fight her, toxic to her straining lungs.
Steve never fights her.
"Does this bother you?" She asks, cupping her hands over his cheeks, Kono rubs her fingers back and forth.
"No." His voice is low and a little breathy. He keeps forgetting that it's okay to close his eyes and forces them back open, staring at her, with pupils blown wide and dark. "No, not at all."
"Good." She smiles then, hands sliding down his torso, her nails scraping against his skin teasingly until she reaches his towel, undoing it with one well practiced move.
That gets his attention and his hands suddenly tight in her hair, fingers on her neck while his mouth gets hot and fierce but she pulls back too soon, giving him a warning look so he releases her, putting his hands back on the bed, letting her to do her thing. It's his punishment after all.
He can't help the almost strangled sound that leaves his lips when she wraps her fingers around him, squeezing with just the right amount of pressure, dragging her thumb over the tip then swirling it with a wicked skill that makes his heart slam against his ribcage forcefully.
She doesn't let him to look away, holding his gaze with eyes sable from hunger and need and he doesn't even want to blink because missing a moment of this would be the biggest fucking waste ever.
Steve knows that she's playing with him, that she keeps him on the edge for a reason with that dashed pace that's bordering on cruel. She knows him too well, learned his every little response years ago so she changes the rhythm of her strokes every time his eyes fall shut with a shuddering breath or his pupils dilate slightly.
"Fuck, 'No…" He gasps brokenly, the pleasure sharp and white-hot, rippling along his spine and he's not sure that he can hold back any longer. "Please…keiki."
She stops then, satisfied that she reduced him to begging; pulling her hand away and the look in her eyes is hot and inviting.
Steve smiles, all the way up to his eyes where lines crinkle and grow white along the edges, teeth a shock of bright in all that whorling dark. His hands are coming up to gentle the places he pulled before, and she doesn't tell him that she liked the pulling, a lot.
"Come to bed." He says, his voice low, alluring.
"We're in bed." She rolls her eyes at him.
"Not yet, we're not." He argues, ready to prove his point.
She keeps petting his cheeks as he takes off her sleepwear and it's awkward, but neither of them cares. The sun is hot and lazy as they tangle together and she wishes for another few days without work but as he slides inside her while she gasps and rocks, arms close and mouth closer, she remembers it doesn't matter if it's a work day or not. They're here. Both of them. Same place at the same time and neither of them is going anywhere. That's what matters.
And later, her thighs get burned again.