#thatwasnerdy

She should probably stop fucking people who have dead wives, but at least this one has his eyes open and sees her instead of a ghost. They are mostly horizontal on her bed in the new safehouse, and Flynn is slowly kissing his way down her body (they've been back in their own time for an hour and a half, they have time), and it's a little surreal but she loves it and-

She swears he murmurs her name with every press of his lips, worshipful as always. She has known from the moment she met him that he is in awe of everything she is, and she has watched that progress over years and as their relationship has shifted, but she can't help but be a little amazed by the reality of their collision. The last time she let someone touch her like this… the last time…

Hell, it's been a year since that mistake and she's still wounded. Might as well admit it to herself now, while she chases something that might erase that memory.

He notices the catch in her breathing - of course he does, he's frustratingly perceptive - and pauses immediately. "Lucy?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you need…?" He's struggling for words, but he doesn't need them; she knows, in that way they do, what he's searching for.

"No. You're good. I like this."

She's pretty sure he rolls his eyes, but he trusts her enough to return to his stopping point an inch or so above her belly button and keep moving lower. If anyone else did this to her, she thinks, she'd hiss at them for being an awful tease in a very unappreciated way. But this is different. This is gentleness, love made flesh, appreciation and adoration. Oh how lucky she is right now to be valued so much, to be-

Again, Flynn pauses, this time with his breath warm on her center. For a few heartbeats she wonders what the hell he's doing, but then it hits her - he's just enjoying the view. He wants to be there, with his head between her thighs; he wants her, all of her, glorious; he wants-

"I love you," she breathes. She hasn't said those words before, has barely even admitted it to herself, but now is as cliché a moment as any to go for it and so she does.

She expects some kind of verbal reaction, but instead he presses his lips to her clit as gentle as can be and oh, he knew how she felt before she did.

Again, the feeling of drowning, this time in warmth and desire.

He works her body instinctively, noticing her reactions and adapting accordingly. She knew he'd be a careful and attentive lover, but the reality is so much more than she expected. Thorough, trying a couple different patterns with his tongue before finding one that makes her sigh, pausing every so often to lap up her juices. She can only imagine the commentary running through his mind right now, and she almost wishes he'd say something, but the silence is perfect. Makes the act even more sacred, makes her feel-

Slowly, hesitantly, he slips one finger inside her. She spreads her legs just a little bit more to allow better access, and is rewarded with sweet pressure on her g-spot. He could easily get her off right now, but he has no intention to; instead, he teases, feels rather than hears her reactions.

(If this were anyone else, she thinks… but it's him, and she trusts him so much, and she knows the ending will be worth it.)

Another finger, suction on her clit, and she is done.

Technically, it's the best orgasm she's had with another person, but that's a very low bar. The fact that he managed to make her feel anything at all is weird enough; the fact that he's still right where she left him when she comes down, still slowly licking her and absorbing what aftershocks he can, is enough to make damn sure he's never getting rid of her. One can't just do that to a woman and then not stick around for the rest of her life!

More murmuring against her skin, this time words she barely hears in a language she doesn't know. She has half a mind to pull him up and kiss him properly until he doesn't taste like her anymore, but he's easily twice her size and she's boneless and that just ain't happening so instead she waits. And waits. And lets herself enjoy the playful kisses that are definitely not a prelude to round two, and she is okay with that, but-

Love, love, love.

She suspects he'd like it if she were less passive, but she's hesitant yet, still waiting for a crash she knows won't come. He responds accordingly, covering her body with his own and wrapping his arms around her and holding her close while she processes it all.

"Everything alright?"

"You say that like you're stopping," she murmurs. She feels physical proof to the contrary, but she knows this is not a man who lets his innermost desires dictate his behavior. He'll make a choice that makes sense, and it may not be the obvious one, and-

"Just pausing. I know… I know this isn't easy for you."

They've had that conversation. They had it long before she accepted their inevitability, and she wasn't sure if he'd remember but of course he does because it's her and if there is one thing she knows for sure it's that Flynn catches her details like no one else ever has. There will be no going back from this entwinement, and there will be no one else for either of them after it. Something this complicated, this consuming, cannot be dealt with lightly and-

"I want you," she breathes, kissing the curve of his neck. "I trust that you'll stay different."

He gives her a look that says he has a lot of concerns with that statement but he knows now is not the time for them, kisses her like he understands perfectly, and shifts their bodies so that she straddles him. Giving her control, as always; giving her an easy way out if she decides she needs it.

She won't, she's pretty sure, but the gesture is still appreciated.

She lingers for a few moments, taking it all in. Sure, she's had daydreams about this scenario, but the reality is different. The reality, she thinks with her knees around his waist and the tip of his cock nudging her ass, is somehow less complicated. His body is solid and will become familiar given time; she takes note of a few scars she wants to ask about later, in a few days at three in the damn morning when they're both avoiding nightmares, but right now she's much more interested in other things.

"You can stop this too," she reminds him as she aligns herself and slowly drops.

Control. She is in control. Lucy repeats the phrase as she shifts her hips, as she leans down to kiss him. He rises to make it more comfortable for her, as always, and he wraps his arms around her and she feels as though she is made whole.

She feels tension rising in his body, matching her own, and she clenches around him and lets herself crash and oh.

For a few brief beautiful moments, she feels as though she has left her body entirely.

It's not her own rush that gets her, exactly, though that is still lovely. It's more the feeling of safety, of being wanted, of collapsing against her lover in the aftermath and knowing that she will look back on these memories with fondness. This is, in some ways, a beginning for them. A change in what they are, but not all they are. They will still be able to work together without issues; they will still be able to sit together late into long nights and talk about anything that keeps the internal monsters away. If anything, this is just an addition to the dynamic they already have.

"Are you alright?" Flynn murmurs as she shifts off him and wraps her body around his in a much more innocent position.

"I don't think I've ever felt this good before."

"Good." His fingers tangle in her hair and he kisses her forehead. "I love you. I hope… I want you to know that, always."

"I do."

So this is what it's like to lie with someone who actually wants her, she thinks as she lets herself fall asleep. Beautiful, safe, warm.

And even more so when she wakes, hours later, and he is still right where she left him. Eyes open, looking at her with the purest expression she could imagine.

"You stayed," she breathes.

"I'm not going anywhere."

“Everything alright?” he murmurs, low and dark and his accent stronger than usual. She knows, is well aware from their few previous encounters, that he gets damn near unintelligible when lust takes over. Not that she minds. It’s kinda hot, the way he goes almost nonverbal when he’s fucking her. Reminds her how much she trusts him - how much they trust each other, really, but at least she can manage complete sentences unless she’s on the absolute edge, and-

“You could just let me undo it,” she replies, her hands moving from their current place on his hips and up to her problematic undergarment. “I don’t expect-”

“I can handle the things you wear on missions, but this is-”

“I’ve got it.” She leans up and kisses him as she pushes the straps off her shoulders and throws the bra aside. “There. Better?”

“Yes.”

His hands cup her breasts, fingers tracing spirals with no real intent. It’s been two days since their last mission, and they both expect quiet for the next week or so while both sides regroup. For once they came out in better condition - that’s been happening more and more lately, but coming home without anyone bleeding all over the Lifeboat is still strange by Lucy’s standards - and this rest, however long it lasts, is deserved. The alarms could sound at any time, they both know that, but-

“Want you,” she breathes. Two little words should not feel so brave, three months after the first time they did all of this, and yet Lucy is still not used to allowing herself to feel things. Everything else she’s done on this kind of desire has ended badly. She knows this won’t.

It can’t, she tells herself. Too much in play, too much beyond physical desire. And yet that desire is there, and she is falling apart in the best way in the hands of someone who enjoys making her feel good. He’s attentive, even now that he knows what he’s working with, and he responds to her so perfectly. There is absolutely no future for either of them after this love, and yet-

“May I?”

His hands are at the waistband of her leggings, asking permission for the slightest touch. She nods, and oh she is getting used to the sensation of his fingers pushing her remaining clothing out of the way. She steps out of the leggings and underwear, and she is vulnerable and cold as she collapses against him for a moment but there’s nowhere else she’d rather be. Here, safe, with him. Yes.

He hesitates again, and she curls her fingers around his wrist and puts his hand where she wants it. So instinctive to shift her body against his, chasing pressure. He makes a low sound as his fingers drag through her slit - she’s well aware how wet she is, but watching him react is satisfying. The littlest things overwhelm him, and while she knows he’s come so far at seeing her as a human being, sometimes…

Somehow, she ends up on the bed behind them. Somehow, she’s barely aware of this detail, his remaining clothes are shed. He hovers over her and she pauses for a moment and stares. She’s learning his scars, pressure points, everything. (She wants a lifetime of exploring this man, but she’s far from ready to say that out loud.) She wants, she needs, she-

“Still with me?”

Gentle as ever, and she pulls him down for a kiss as an answer. “Yes,” she breathes against his lips. “Please.”

He is cautious, but not unnecessarily so. More aware that he is twice her size and on top of her, and she’s not sure how he balances his weight without hurting her but somehow he does. His thrusts are slow, careful, completely aware of her. His hands on her hips, his mouth pressing little kisses all over her face. How lucky she is to have this, to have him, to have-

“Garcia,” she breathes as he hits a particularly good spot inside her. She rarely if ever uses his first name, but there are some moments she feels there is no choice and-

It has an effect, though she did not intend any such thing. He is still learning her, perfect instincts be damned, and he takes the hint and repeats the angle over and over. She is overcome, eyes closed, infinite and undone.

He follows, as she comes down from the high, and even in that state is aware enough to roll their bodies and make things safer for her. They collapse against each other, exhausted, and she knows she ought to reach for tissues to clean them up but she doesn’t want to and-

“Stay,” he breathes as her body shifts around his.

She rests her head oh his chest and listens to his heartbeat even out. She’ll fall asleep like this, and wake up alone because she always sleeps later and he likes to bring her coffee in the mornings. Such a routine they’ve developed, and so much further to go.

“Yes,” she murmurs.