shhh.

[pigsfeet]

xoxo

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[pigsfeet]

He lavishes her chest with attention, because she seems to be enjoying herself, because he certainly is. And, admittedly, he wants to linger where she can card her fingers through his hair. Is he that transparent? She has his number, and he doesn't really have any complaints. He does kind of wish he could stop thinking, but maybe if he keeps moving.

So he does, briefly entertaining the feel of that navel ring on his tongue, before finding her hip. Some sick part of him enjoys taking off her underpants too much, but he can ignore it in favor of the rest of her. Warm, even hot under his tongue, and he can feel her pulse in his ears. He moves her knees over his shoulders, and makes his way slowly, wanting to draw it out.

[materdei]

She arches up into his touch; it's easy to reward his attention here, her hands in his hair and a low moan on her lips as his mouth finds her nipple. His exploration is slow, lingering over her body, and however sick he might feel, it all seems loving to her.

And eventually, when she comes, it's with her thighs clamped around his ears, a hand pulling a little too hard at his hair. As climax subsides, rippling out through her, she tries to draw him back up for a kiss.

[pigsfeet]

He's content, and elated in that contentment. He wasn't entirely sure he could get her off like this-- he never has before, for anybody, just thought about it a lot-- but he did. She sure sounded like she enjoyed herself, and he felt her around his fingers, felt her thighs around his head. She pulled his hair and that was-

Before he really knows what he's doing, he's kissing her back. He has his hands on her chest, because she feels amazing to finally touch. He can't get over the fact that it's allowed. He's practically moaning into her mouth.

It'll be fine if he finishes it off quickly. He knows he needs to calm down, so she can bask and not have to worry about him. As quietly as he can, he reaches into his boxers.

[materdei]

"You're crazy," she murmurs, "if you think I'm going to let you do that."

It's afterglow, Daryl, not unconsciousness. She reaches for his wrist and tugs it away from his erection.

[pigsfeet]

"You-" His voice is an embarrassingly high whine in his throat- "You don't gotta."

[materdei]

"I'm not offering because I have to." Just why he assumes she wouldn't want to get him off, Scully doesn't know, but she's happy to disabuse him of the notion. Her hand settles at the waistband of his boxers, fingers curling around it. "Tell me how you want it."

[pigsfeet]

Now he's left where she was earlier, not sure how to answer. He hopes to fuck she wasn't quiet for the same reason he is; how the hell do you tell a girl what to do without being a real sonuvabitch about it.

In the end, the answer is what it was always going to be, a nakedly embarrassing request: "Don't care. Just- just touch me."

[materdei]

Her expression brightens at the edges, not quite a smile, but unquestionably pleased at the request. Scully gets his boxers off and wraps her hand around his shaft, pulling him into a kiss as she slowly jerks him off.

She has the feeling it won't take long, and more's the pity; she'd love to let this moment stretch out as long as it reasonably can.

[pigsfeet]

Between her sly smile and the insistent pull of her hand, it doesn't take long. As nervous as he is, it's a miracle he can get off at all; maybe he gets by because he always feels this anxious disgust after he gets hard. It doesn't matter. He moans into the crook of her shoulder and makes a mess of her bed; it feels like nothing so much as the bottom of him dropping out, but coming is never really as good as everyone pretends. You just have to get it over with so you can get on with shit.

At least he can still touch her, and he does, for a moment, two, before he turns away, grabbing his discarded shirt and wiping off the bedsheets.

[materdei]

Scully's decidedly unconcerned with the state of her bedsheets - but Daryl clearly cares. "It's okay," she tells him, trying to stop him wiping everything up with his shirt. What's he going to wear back to the barn if he does that? "I have a washcloth in the bathroom."

And if it never cleaned up come before, it's baptized into the role now, as she gets up to fetch it. She cleans off her lower belly first, standing on the threshold of the tiny bathroom, then comes back over to handle the rest. "That was nice."

If she says it, maybe some of that...it's not really nervous energy, because who can be nervous immediately after orgasm? But whatever keeps Daryl upright at the moment, whatever's pushing him to skip the afterglow in favour of tidying up. Maybe some of that will dissipate.

[pigsfeet]

You wear the shirt inside out, obviously. But Dana doesn't want him to, so he waits until she brings him a washcloth to scrub the worst of it out. He's not hot with embarrassment, not squirming, but Dana's polite little That was nice makes him doubt his efforts. She seems committed to reassuring him while never showing any real appreciation, at least not after. The thought of her moaning and pulling his hair is still very fresh, though, and that was fantastic.

Maybe- maybe she's embarrassed of the depths of her enjoyment. Maybe they're more alike than he thought. The idea spurs him to hold her close, to try to make his feelings, at least, a little plainer. "Yeah," he says. "Liked doing that for you. A lot."

[materdei]

It's impossible to recapture those blissful moments when nothing matters, once you've gotten out of bed; it makes the rest of the world real again. Slipping back in, though, is still comfortable, particularly with Daryl's arms around her. She pillows her cheek against his shoulder, trying to remember how to be comfortable with someone. What to talk about in the moments after, how to make sure they're both happy with things without being obvious about it.

Fortunately, Daryl opens up the conversation for them both. She pulls the blankets up so the cool night doesn't bother them too much.

"I did, too." Liked him doing that for her. Liked giving him a hand job. All of it was good. When she said that was nice, she meant it.

[pigsfeet]

He lies there, and pets her hair, and feels her breasts press into his chest. It's a fantastic feeling, the snatch of time after, where everything's been done and can't be undone or nitpicked. He understands, on some level, that he can't let himself twist into too many knots about this shit. Then he really would be useless.

And at least he knows what he's good at, by her own admission. He kisses her temple, and murmurs, "gimme a bit, n'I'll do it again."

[materdei]

Scully breathes out, and it's like a laugh. A kind one, at least in intent. "You don't have to get me off twice every time, you know."

[pigsfeet]

The laugh does a lot, and would do more if he hadn't just come. He smiles into her hair, and mimics her as kindly as he can. "Ain't offering because I have to."

[materdei]

She can't help smiling into the crook of his neck. "I might want a second round with you, if you aren't careful."

[pigsfeet]

"Yeah," he says, "good luck." He's forty, he's pretty sure that ship sailed long ago. Then again, he's never tried to get off more than once a night; he really only jerks off when he can't sleep. The important thing is that women have an easier time of it, and he's not about to leave her hanging.

[materdei]

Sure, there's a refractory period. And at some point, they'll need to sleep, anyhow - but that doesn't stop her from reaching between them and putting her hand around his flaccid penis.

It's not an attempt to get him going again. She's just touching it, getting to know its size and shape, the weight of it in her hand. Lying here is making her more comfortable again; there's a playfulness entering her voice. "Maybe I don't want what you can't have."

[pigsfeet]

He goes a little still, sensitive and nervy with it. He just isn't sure what she's doing. Feeling him up? Does anybody actually like touching somebody else's dick? Apparently, Dana does. She's a doctor; maybe she's just used to putting her hands on gross shit.

Maybe I don't want what you can't have. He hisses in a cool breath. She has to mean that, because she doesn't fuck around. He's just never thought of sex as reciprocal like that. One side takes, and he doesn't want it to be his side.

"I- I ain't..." His breath is catching in his throat. He's definitely not going to be able to get it up again tonight; nerves have every inch of him. "Wasn't ever a big deal, for me."

[materdei]

She lets him go, because nothing about the look on his face says he's enjoying it - and neither does the way tension enters his limbs again. What he's thinking isn't all that clear, but she can't exactly demand an explanation of every thought that enters his mind. If he wants to tell her, he will.

The best she can tell is that he's much more interested in giving than receiving, and that's fine, isn't it? Maybe he thinks she's trying for another round, right then and there.

Maybe it can't hurt to ask him to say more. Her attention turns back to his eyes. "You didn't really like sex?"

[pigsfeet]

His eyes slide off her face, and he focuses on the dark line between her and the pillow. He'd like to look at her-- she's gorgeous-- but he couldn't tolerate a look of disgust, or, worse, pity.

"Wasn't never good at it," he says. "Except- getting girls off. I could do that, so I did. But I never... missed it, when I wasn't having it."

He wants to explain that it's different, for guys, but he's afraid that if he tells this to a fucking medical doctor, she'll confirm what he's always suspected; that he's somehow aberrant, or just plain doing it wrong.

[materdei]

"If you were good at getting girls off," she says, swallowing back a wave of sadness for him in favour of dry humor, "then you were better at sex than a lot of men I dated."

Because it is sad, somehow, to think of him looking at himself and thinking you're not cut out for this. And the way he won't look at her right now - but she's not going to force him, God knows, just let her hand settle at the nape of his neck, idly twisting her hair around her fingers.

[pigsfeet]

It's just pathetic, needing to be reassured by a girl you just ate out, but it does help. Getting the other person off seems like the bare fucking minimum; it doesn't surprise him that people skip it, but it does make the idea of sex seem a little fucking pointless. He closes his eyes, and just concentrates on the feel of her hands in his hair and feels, absurdly, a little better.

His hand goes to her hip. He pulls them closer. Her skin is so goddamn warm.

"Uh- good." He hasn't got any clue what to say. "Just... like it, is all. When you get all excited."

[materdei]

"Oh. Good." And then, after a moment, smiling and self-conscious, she adds, "That...also hasn't always been true."

Men in the 80s and 90s were pigs. That's what it comes down to, basically.

[pigsfeet]

He knows from long experience he can't undo the pains of the past, so instead of brings Dana in so she can be kissed. It's a slow thing, gentle and not at all deep. He just wants to comfort her. "Is now."