for gipsy_danger

[striker_eureka]

timeline divergence. 

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[gipsy_danger]

They sure do. Wrap your mind around that one, Herucles.

"Yes. Show me." She smiles at him when he pulls back, arms firmly settled around his waist.

"I want to see it all."

[striker_eureka]

He doesn't want to. He doesn't like the idea of them knowing things about her that he doesn't. It's not fair. She's his.

He extricates himself from her grasp and takes her hand instead, leading her through the small apartment that counts as 'his space.' It really is small, unfortunately, but whatever, it's got a living room, a small kitchenette, a bathroom (with a real bathtub), and finally, his bedroom. All very spartan, all very neat and tidy, but all his.

Theirs, now.

"This is it, I'm afraid. Not much to look at."

[gipsy_danger]

Gipsy doesn't care -- it's perfect, like she said. Everything about it is perfect and beautiful and everything she could have wanted. It's his, it's where he's been living and she can feel his presence here in everything that she touches and sees.

"It's just right." Her palm rests on the wall of the bedroom and she looks over her shoulder at him, lips curving into a smile. "I love it."

[striker_eureka]

He steps up behind her and wraps his arms around her waist, holding her close against his chest and ducking his head down to kiss the bare cap of her shoulder.

"Have to say, I like it a lot more now that it's got you in it," he murmurs, his hand spreading wide against her belly.

[gipsy_danger]

Her head tips back to rest against him; it's reminiscent of the time she appeared behind him in the Drift and pulled him close, holding him tightly against her chest.

"It was missing something," she agreed, hands dropping from the wall to cover his as she leaned against him. "But I'm here, now."

[striker_eureka]

Except this time, there's no mild tinge of disappointment over a failed test, just the jubilant relief of her miraculous return.

"And thank god for that, love," he replies, his lips moving over her shoulder and up her neck to the hinge of her jaw. He's half tempted to find out if he can leave a hickey on her skin, but he's forty-five now, he can't go around doing that kind of thing.

[gipsy_danger]

She tips her head so that he's got better access to her skin. It's synthetic, all of her is -- but it reacts and flushes and bruises and feels just like his.

"Do you remember when I found those secret memories?" Of all of his sexual escapades.

[striker_eureka]

He huffs out a laugh through his nose, a warm wash of air across her neck.

"Do I remember. Yes, love, I remember." He remembers how she had squirmed in his arms, her eyes wide and surprised but so very interested as she replayed most of his sexual history. "You nearly gave me a heart attack with that."

[gipsy_danger]

Gipsy's face floods with color at that, and she's very glad that he can't currently see her face.

"I have a tendency to embarrass you, don't I?"

[striker_eureka]

He hums idly, going back to nibbling at her perfect neck.

"I don't mind it so much," he admits, stroking his hand over her stomach soothingly. "We should have a talk about sex and privacy, though, because that could get pretty bad."

[gipsy_danger]

"I'm sorry." She doesn't mean to. Usually.

"Now?" She's not sure if she has the focus for that right now. His hand moving over her body is very distracting, and Gipsy's thoughts are going other places that have little to do with discussions and more to do with actions.

"I want to experience everything with you, Hercules Hansen. Sex included. But I will wait, if that's what you want."

[striker_eureka]

"It doesn't have to be right now..."

He's rather enjoying touching her too, even if her shirt is in the way. His hands settle down at her hips and he gently turns her around so she's facing him again, which lets him kiss her slowly and coax her to walk backwards towards his bed.

"I've waited over a year for you, love, waiting is not exactly appealing right now."

[gipsy_danger]

"Later, then."

Much, much later.

"No...no, it isn't." Nothing about waiting seems appealing right now, and she moves with him eagerly, palms flat on his chest. "Can we--?"

[striker_eureka]

"Whatever you want to do, Gipsy," he assures her, his hands strong and steady on her as he inches her back until her knees hit the mattress and she sits down. Instead of joining her on the bed, Hercules kneels down in front of her and sets to untying her shoelaces, sliding her boots off and carefully setting them aside.

"I don't want to rush you."

[gipsy_danger]

There's heat in her face as she watches him take her boots off for her. Everything seems so...intimate already, because from what she's seen of them, this is not something that most humans do for one another.

"I want to." The sentence is rushed and she can feel her face getting warm again. "I'm...inexperienced, though." She's 'learned' though his memories, but there's something to be said about doing this first hand.

"Is that alright?"

[striker_eureka]

He looks up at her and the smile on his face should speak volumes about just what he feels for her.

"I wouldn't kick you out of bed for the world," he assures her, picking up her hand and kissing the palm. "And if your inexperience bothers you, well..."

Time for a little wink. "We can always fix that."

[gipsy_danger]

It does, and it sends a wave of affection crashing over her that's entirely different from the heat that's settled in her belly. Trust him to make her smile, even at a moment like this.

"You are quite the man, Hercules Hansen." And she adores him for it. So much. Her features settle into a determined expression; even if she's inexperienced and relatively clueless, she wants to do this.

"I want you. Right now. Will you show me what it's like to be part of you outside the Drift?"

[striker_eureka]

There we go, that's the smile he was looking for.

"Whatever you want, Gipsy Danger."

He surges up from his position on the ground and kisses her, getting his feet under himself and slowly pushing her back down onto the bed, following as soon as he's toed out of his shoes. Some brief maneuvering later, and he's got her up against his pillows, her hair spilling darkly across the stark white cotton, and his hands are under her shirt.

It slowly gets peeled off her as he kisses her, trying both to distract her and to rile her up so whatever nerves she's feeling get subsumed by other, more interesting feelings.

[gipsy_danger]

She's incredibly nervous because the last thing she wants is to be bad at this. While Gipsy isn't used to being the best Jaeger (Striker would have argued that he was the best), she was always a heavy hitter and she'd never lost -- not even on the day she'd died. She considers the battle a success, even if people died that didn't have to.

So to be in a position like this; vulnerable and exposed and entirely human, open and subject to judgement -- is nerve wracking. She doesn't want to fail, and she damn sure doesn't want to leave him disappointed.

He's careful with her, though, and Gipsy can tell that he's trying to soothe her rattled mind and if she's to be honest with herself, it's working. Her jitters morph into a different kind of nerve-tingling sensation, and she's eagerly reaching to get her hands on him and simply touch whatever is available and exposed to her. Face, arms, chest -- curious hands travel and pick at clothing, frowning at the damn buttons but quickly losing her frustration the moment her shirt is peeled off and tossed to the side.

[striker_eureka]

Hercules seems far less interested in taking off his own clothes, focusing instead on what she's wearing and how she should be doing less of that.

She could never disappoint him. Not like this. Helping her learn how her new body functions and responds will be an exciting adventure and he's looking forward to them learning together.

She's left lying in a perfectly serviceable sports bra, her skin pale and milky and utterly unblemished, and Hercules has a brief moment of ridiculous nerves, anxiety over the fact that his body is quite heavily marked up by this point in his life: his Air Force tattoo on one arm, freckles across his chest, countless scars littering his skin from one scrape or another. But then he remembers that he's really the only man Gipsy has ever been interested in which means she has nobody to compare him to, and he forces himself to stop thinking about it.

His lips abandon hers to trail down the smooth column of her neck, nibbling along the sweep of her clavicles, his fingers stroking the skin just below the band of her bra nice and slow.

[gipsy_danger]

Gipsy should really stop comparing this to battle. It's really not very similar at all. Wins and losses and jaegers and kaiju -- nothing even remotely close to the way his hands feel on her skin and the way he's looking at her. Unfortunately, she's doesn't have a lot to relate the experience to besides that, so it is what it is. As they do this more (and oh, does she want to), she'll have more of a frame of reference.

She sighs and adjusts under him, just a little, hips lifting to press up before settling back down. She's bared and while she's certain that he's very enthralled in her wearing considerably less clothing, Gipsy would really feel better if they were a matched set in that. It's only fair, right?

"These...are infuriating." She mumbles, hands picking at the buttons on his shirt. She's glad she's only got the one, just there on her standard issue pants.

[striker_eureka]

He plans to do this as often as possible. Gipsy is stunningly beautiful, and if this furthers the stereotype of a middle-aged man going after a pretty young thing, well, Hercules doesn't care. He's pretty sure most middle-aged men don't fall for behemoth-sized robots, even if they are beautiful young women in their heads.

He's far too distracted by the taste of her synthetic skin beneath his lips to care about his shirt, which is why he just hums distractedly when she gripes about the buttons that are thwarting her. Herc's a little busy with sliding his fingers under the band of her bra and carefully peeling it up and off.

Just as he anticipated, her skin is flawless, her body a perfect representation of a beautiful woman. It's almost infuriating. Except that he gets to enjoy it, so really...

His hand fits perfectly against her breast like they were made for each other, the perfect skin soft and silky smooth beneath his fingers, and Herc has to muffle a quiet noise against her neck as he presses wet, open-mouthed kisses there, a little overwhelmed by the fact that this is all real, it's all happening in real life. He really has her here, spread out on his bed, this is really her body that's responding so eagerly to his, those are really her hands roving across his shoulders.

It's not a dream.

[gipsy_danger]

It feels a little like a dream to her -- when you self destruct at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean, you don't really expect to ever see the person you've fallen in love with again. Especially when they're human and you're the size of a sky scraper.

She gives up on those infernal buttons for now because he's busy removing more of her clothing and really bares her before him. She's nervous all over again and there's a twist of apprehension in her gut that's quickly extinguished by the noise he makes and the immediateness that his hands find her skin once more. It's reassuring, and it feels amazing. It sends what's not becoming a familiar rush through her and has her fidgeting beneath him, just a little.

It reminds her of when she'd lived through that memory through him, but this time she can pinpoint the ache she'd felt now that she's experiencing it for herself.

Lifting a trembling hand, Gipsy carefully rests a protective hand on the back of his head, fingers tracing over his hair as she bites on her lower lip, a little groan bubbling in her chest. My pilot. Mine.

[striker_eureka]

She groans, her hand finding his hair, and that's it— he's done. How is he supposed to resist her when she makes wondering little noises like that?

He can't.

His lips travel down south, trailing wet little kisses across the swell of her breast, his stubble raising a hectic pink flush over her pale skin. He has to admit, he rather likes that. What he likes even more, though, is how quickly her nipples pebble when he brushes his lips over those instead, the way her body squirms beneath his when he teases the rosy skin with his tongue.

She's perfect. There's absolutely nothing about her that he would change.

[gipsy_danger]

This is like sensory overload for her; every part of her is on fire and sensitized. She feels everything in this moment – every puff of air that escapes his lips, every scrape of his stubble against pale white skin, every hot, wet kiss that his mouth drops on her skin during his trek south.

…She’d worried, at first, what the hell she was supposed to do with her hands. Now it just seems to come naturally. Her nails trace over his scalp and she sucks in a gasp, skin tightening with every swipe of his tongue.

Maybe this wouldn’t be as awkward as she’d initially thought. It helps that she’d porn surfed his brain before, too.