When Fetch wakes up in a small apartment, scorch marks decorating random parts of the walls. She lurches to a sitting position until certain aches remind her of last night.
Shit, that hurts.
Her hair's out of the usual ponytail, splayed around her like a bright pink halo. The sheets are thin and her clothes are a crumpled heap so she lies back down and tries to sleep for a bit longer than an hour. But, every time she closes her eyes, she recalls how damn good it was when his hand was on her thigh and how fucking unbelievable it felt when it traveled up a bit farther. So, instead of getting wound up again, she stares at the posters of bands and stencils taped on the ceiling. She tags an 'F' with one finger near a corner beside Delsin's spray paint.
His name usually sends her heart aflutter but with last night's activities, her hormones make sure that the only thing in mind are they way his muscles rippled and the distinct pleasure of watching goosebumps trail the path her finger took. She lets out a sigh, breathing in the smell of pine and aerosol, the smell of Delsin.
"Enjoying ourselves, aren't we?" He sets a cup of coffee on the bedside table to her right, leaning against the wall and holding his own. Smoke billows around his left hand, warming the cup, and he takes a sip. Fetch tries to look him in the eye but he's wearing nothing but boxers, a patch of dark hair traveling from his navel to god knows where.
"Can't say I'm the only one, morning wood." He turns red and covers his boxers with his hands, his coffee momentarily forgotten on a bedside drawer. He grabs her a shirt and tosses it at her; she changes under the sheets. A hand darts out and wrenches one of his from the view, effectively pulling him back into bed.
"Come on, D," the way she stresses that letter cuts his breath short, "nothing I haven't seen before, right?"
She sits on his lap, blushing but undeterred. "Remember this?" she asks, peppering his neck with kisses.
"I think you can feel me remembering just fine." Delsin replies, staring up at the ceiling and taking deep breaths. You are a Conduit stud, Delsin. You are not getting off on foreplay, Delsin ends up chanting it mentally.If the Conduit gene had to affect yet another part of Delsin's life, his libido wasn't exactly a horrible way to go.
"And this?" Her hands start trailing down his stomach and he's clutching the sheets just like last night.
"Fetch, I don't think that's—" Pink light glows underneath Delsin's boxers, a silhouette forming.
"A good idea? Yeah, but it feels fucking good, right?" She speeds up just a bit and his hands are gripping the sheets so tightly he's burning holes through it.
"If this is gonna be anything like last night, remember there's a limit to the fast healing thing, Fetch. Don't try to skewer me too hard."
"Based on last night, I think that fast healing thing helps you recover from more than just bullets, Rowe." She disrobes, Delsin's hands clamping down on her thighs. "How about you try screwing me harder, first?"
She kisses him, striking hard and fast as she always is. The room is suddenly enveloped in smoke, only to be cut through by random bursts of neon energy. Fetch feels Delsin smirk against her lips before he flips her over, holding her hands high above her head.
"Don't mind if I do."