for driftcompatible

[striker_eureka]

Hercules is the type of man to wear clothing that doesn't quite fall within regulation guidelines — nowhere in the PPDC rulebook does it say that leather boots like his or henleys and heavy canvas vests are within uniform regulations — so seeing him in civvies is no real surprise for most people around the 'dome.

Usually his civvies aren't quite as...suggestive, though. It's nothing overt, but someone as powerfully built as Hercules can wear a burlap sack and make it seem sexy if he tries, so the well-worn jeans that hug his thighs and make his ass look like that of a man twenty years his junior are a little indecent. As is the tight olive-drab tee shirt he's wearing, his dog tags disrupting the way it stretches across his chest. He's taken to wearing Chuck's bomber jacket most days when he needs to leave the 'dome, but since he's making an effort for them to have some semblance of privacy on this outing, he's left it behind and is wearing the old, worn leather jacket he got when he was still in the RAAF.

It could be purely psychological, but dressing in clothes he hasn't really worn since peacetime makes him feel...much more at peace.

Max is off with Tendo, which means he's got nothing to do while he waits for Mako to show up; nothing to do, that is, but run his hand absently over his vintage Waratah motorbike.

Comments

[driftcompatible]

She leans heavily against him, still watching the lanterns rise, rise, rise. There's still a cacophony of noise; shouts, chants, dancing, but she's not really hearing it anymore. She's only hearing him, his voice, the things he says and the way he says them.

Her hands come to settle on his; small, slender, strong hands rest on a larger, more calloused and rough pair. Seems right, though, and Mako isn't questioning it because if she does then the moment might disappear forever, gone in a blink, leaving her doubting it ever happened at all.

She stays there in his arms, mesmerized by the lanterns for what feels like hours - and maybe it is hours, she doesn't know, it's hard to say - before she turns around in his arms, slides hers around his neck and pulls him in for a sweet, slow, deep kiss.

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It's been a very long time since Herc was able to just kind of let go, to relax, to allow himself to not worry about anything in his life and simply focus on the present. It's strange, almost, how light he feels, like he's a lantern too and can just...float away.

Mako's hands settle on his and he smiles, his fingers spreading against her abdomen so she can fit hers between them. It's hard to keep track of time with her warm and solid against his chest, the smell of her perfume mixing with the lingering scent of gunpowder from the fireworks and greasy street food.

He's lulled into a kind of daze by it all, but then he's snapped out of it by Mako taking her hands off of his and turning in his arms, sliding her hands up his chest and crossing them behind his neck. He's already leaning down to kiss her when she pulls him in, his lips sliding against hers until they find the perfect angle that will let him lick his way into her mouth and chase the lingering taste of cotton candy on her tongue.

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Her tongue tangles with his, fighting back to see who can taste each other the most. They break apart and she’s breathless, face still aglow from kiss and thousands of paper lanterns alike. Her hands are in his hair, because that seems like a suitable place to be, her eyes fixed on his and she just drinks him in, unable to look away even as people move around them, pushing and bumping and laughing and maybe even teasing them, just a little.

“Come on,” she says, sliding her hands from around him down to his arms to take his hands. She pulls him to the sidewalk, looking for – something that’s not quite apparent until she finds it; a little hotel nestled in amongst everything else. Quaint, traditional – balcony view, because she needs to be able to still see the festival that doesn’t appear to be ending anytime soon.

She insists on one room, because it doesn’t matter anymore, and she just wants his body wrapped around her all night long in whatever way he’ll give it to her.

She stands on the balcony after a fast shower, a silk, deep blue robe emblazoned with gold dragons wrapped around her body and she just watches the festivities go on below her, arms resting on the railing.

The night is perfect. She couldn’t have asked for anything better.

[striker_eureka]

Everything happens in somewhat of a blur, Mako pushing him to and fro, bossing him around until he does what she wants when he is more than happy to comply with her wishes. He probably couldn't quite detail anything that happens between the kiss and the hotel, things bleeding into one another.

It's not important, really. What's important is that she kept her hands in his, that she insisted on one room for them both even though he offered to get them two, that she laughed and kissed him all the way up to their room.

Her robe is a deep, rich blue, stark against her skin, and his is a bright kelly green, his dragons matching hers. Silk is...an unusual experience for him right now, it's a sensation he hasn't felt in...probably years, but Hercules is man enough to admit that it feels pretty good and he kind of likes the way his robe slides against his skin. He likes how Mako's slides against hers better, though.

He comes up beside her, one arm snaking around her waist as he leans the other against the railing, his attention mostly fixed on the girl beside him even with the beautiful view spread out in front of them.

"So do you believe me now when I say I occupy myself with things other than jerking off?" he teases, nosing in past her wet hair so he can press a kiss to the hinge of her jaw.

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“Yes,” she says, leaning against him when she feels his lips brush against her skin. For the most part, getting here had been a blur to her, too – she hadn’t wanted to stop, hadn’t wanted to talk to anyone at all because any sort of interruption might mean a changed mind or second thoughts or something else that would prevent more time together. “I believe you.”

The robe moves easily over her skin; it slides and it’s a smooth, nice and luxurious feeling that she hasn’t experienced in a long time. She likes it, though, and she likes that she can feel the heat of his arm coming through it, pressing against her body.

“Mostly.” She adds, smile lighting up her face as she teases, eyes glinting a little.

[striker_eureka]

"Mostly?" He pretends to be outraged, squeezing her and tickling her side a little, but he can't keep it up for long enough to really sell it, too busy laughing.

"So cruel to me, Miss Mori," he teases, settling down, quite liking the feel of her tucked up against him, the warmth of her body seeping through the silk robe. "I don't know how I'll survive."

Oh please, drama queen. Herc has felt more alive in the past few hours than he has in years, time in a Jaeger not included. Maybe it's cliche that a young woman can make this old man feel like he's not ancient anymore, but even if it is cliche, Herc doesn't care. He's just happy he's been given the chance to feel something, anything. For a while there it had been touch and go, and it was only the fact that Max needed him and there was no one else qualified in the whole 'dome to do his job that had kept him getting out of bed every morning.

Now he feels he might have another reason.

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Mako's laughing too and that's a goo feeling, laughing because she's happy, because someone is making her happy

"I have a feeling that you will survive just fine, Marshal Hansen."

She turns in his arm a little, back pressing against the railing as she reaches to hook her arms around his waist. He's warm and solid and so very close and her breath catches in her throat as thoughts race in her head. What am I doing, what are WE doing, is this right? Is this wrong? I don't care.

Rising onto the balls of her feet he kisses him again, long and sweet, white teeth scraping gently over her lower lip before she loses herself completely in his arms.

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"You have a very high opinion of me," he murmurs, shifting back a little so she can turn in his arms, until her back is pressed against the railing and her arms slide around him.

She's very petite, waifish in a sense, but there's strength in her too, muscle hard beneath her skin, a power in the way that she moves that really captivates him. It's no surprise, of course, she would have to be powerful to pilot a Jaeger, but still.

There are lanterns still floating above their heads, slowly lifting up into the sky, and he thinks that's rather fitting. Their flickering light certainly lends an ethereal quality to the moment, makes him feel like this is a whole different world than the one they normally live in. It makes it easier to lean down and meet her when she surges up for a kiss, his lips moving slowly against hers.

It makes it easier to slide his arms around her waist and pull her flush up against him, makes it easier to bend down and lift her up into his arms, make it easier to carry her over to the giant bed in their suite and lay her gently down so he can follow.

Sex with Mako Mori had not been on his agenda for tonight, but he's not going to complain about it now, no sir.

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It's an accurate opinion, she thinks - he's resilient, strong, very bound to duty.

When he picks her up she sighs, eyes fluttering closed because she knows what's coming, knows precisely what it is they're going to do and she wants it so, so much.

The covers are silk too and it's soft against her legs and hands, but it goes unnoticed because she is too busy exploring the span of his body, fingers pushing aside green silk in order to brush over the planes of his chest.

She pauses though, just long enough to tip his chin to make him look at her, eyes full of emotion.

"I have never done this." Be gentle.

[striker_eureka]

Hercules has been occupying himself with dropping kisses over her neck and the dip between her collarbones, her robe covering everything else, the hand he's not using to hold himself up slowly stroking along the length of her arm.

Her slender hands are stroking of his body too, and oh it feels nice to have someone touch him again, to feel tenderness telegraphed through skin to skin contact. It's been a very long time since Hercules has allowed himself any kind of intimacy like this, and he's glad he's finally decided to let himself feel this again.

Her fingers are under his chin and he lets her shift his face, looks up at her with adoration shining in his eyes.

What she says next, though, makes his breath stutter in his throat. "Oh." He's a little ashamed to admit that his pupils dilate, a rush of possessiveness washing through him. But that's quickly stomped down, his concern overriding whatever thrill he feels at the idea of breaking new ground.

"Mako, sweetheart, are you sure?"

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“Yes.” Her answer, while quiet, is resolute, firm. In this moment, she wants it more than anything she’s ever wanted before in her life, the only thing that it could possibly come second to would be her dream of being a Jaeger pilot – and that? She’s already accomplished.

“Yes, I am sure.” She confirms it again, just in case it’s something that he needs to hear and because the Marshal seems like the kind of man – a good on, that is – that would need that kind of verification before taking something so important, so sacred.

She doesn’t miss the expression on his face, though – the way his Adam’s apple moves in his throat when he swallows, the way his eyes dilate, just a little, the way that his breath hitches just so. He wants it, too – maybe more now that she’s told him that he would be the first person to ever be with her like this.

Men could be like that sometimes, she’s found. Possessive, a little feral, especially if there’s something that they want within their grasp.

It’s fine, though – it’s fine because this is exactly where she wants to be, right here in this hotel bed on the fourth floor of an antiquated little hotel, sliding glass doors open and the room lit by the fading light of paper lanterns on their way up to the heavens.

[striker_eureka]

He's not really proud of himself for his reaction, but there's nothing he can do about it. It is what it is and that's all there is to it, basically. He's sorry, but he can't control his body's response to the new information that she's never been touched like this before. (He doesn't know if she's dated before, if she's kissed or held hands or fooled around, and he's not going to ask. Either she has, which means he probably knows the person she's been with, or she hasn't, and he doesn't want to put her on the spot and embarrass her.)

"Okay, then," he breathes, turning his head to press his lips to her wrist. He's glad he shaved tonight; there's a lot he wants to do to her now that he knows he can and now that he knows she hasn't experienced all that he wants her to. The last thing he'd want is to give her beard burn on her first time. It would certainly make riding home tomorrow morning less than comfortable.

He presses kisses down her arm to her elbow, then shifts so he can kiss her lips, soft and sweet and in no hurry at all. "Stop me if you're uncomfortable." He lifts his head so he can look at her, lifting his eyebrows a little, making her realize he's really serious about this. "I mean it. Tonight's about you, okay?"

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"Okay," she breathes, her own breath catching in her throat. "Okay."

She's glad he's being so good about it - that he's taking the time to pause and talk to her instead of diving in head first without making sure that it really and truly is fine.

It's sweet. It makes her adore him even more, if that was possible - an she's not sure thy it is. She's thought about him a long time, ever since she first met him when she was just a little impressionable girl who'd promptly informed Stacker that that man right there was the one that she would some day marry.

He'd never truly left her mind.

"Thank you," she adds, curling a hand around the back of his head, "for taking me out here tonight."

[striker_eureka]

Her hand in his hair is oddly soothing, and he ends up smiling and leaning in to kiss her again, tasting the shape of words on her lips.

"You're welcome, love," he murmurs, nuzzling another kiss to her lips. "Thank you for coming with me. I probably wouldn't have left the base if you hadn't given me an excuse to."

Everyone knows that now that his son is dead and his Jaeger destroyed, the Marshal spends all his time in his office, working. Max rotates between Tendo, Mako and Raleigh, and sometimes the Aussie tech crew, only going off with Herc in the evenings when it's time to go to bed. Hercules doesn't have a lot in his life to keep him occupied anymore, and he's well aware that it makes him look pathetic but there's nothing he can do about it.

To be given an excuse to go out and have fun is rare and exciting for him.

Just as rare and exciting as this is, what she's giving him right here. Because she is giving it, he knows that. He leans in to kiss her one last time before letting his lips trail down her neck, careful fingers slowly pushing her robe aside so he can drag his lips over more and more of her skin.

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Mako just smiles at him, cheeks flushed with a happiness that she hasn't felt in a long, long time. It pulses through her, amplified by his every touch and caress and she knows that she's already gone Andover her damn heart to a man twice her age.

Still don't care.

The thought amuses her and she adjusts as the robe falls open and exposes her upper body, baring her for his perusal. Not wanting to be outdone, she reaches for his too, tugging at the sleeve before sliding her hands in and pushing it off his shoulders. She wants to see him, touch him, love him - every part of him from his chin all the way down to his toes simply because its him.

[striker_eureka]

The knot at the waist of his robe was much more slap-dash than Mako's which means when she pushes and pulls at the green silk covering his body, it gives up the ghost very quickly, slithering off his shoulders and down his arms, revealing a constellation of freckles that work their way across this shoulders and down his back along with the distinct burns left behind by an early drive suit, the scar tissue cutting across his body like a tribal tattoo. But Herc seems completely unconcerned by his own body, too busy exploring hers.

He inches the deep blue silk off her skin bit by bit, pressing tender kisses into her skin like a prayer as he slowly bares her her torso. Herc's known what Mako's body looks like for years; he's watched her train and fight in progressively less and less clothing, the harder she worked, and so he's not really surprised by anything he sees. (Plus, y'know, he's kind of used to this sort of thing. He knows what he's doing.) But that doesn't mean his touch isn't reverent or painfully gentle as he cups her breast in his palm and rolls his thumb over her nipple, humming against her skin when the flesh pebbles beneath his hand.

"Still okay?" he murmurs quietly, lifting his eyes to look up at her, holding her gaze as he leans in and curls his tongue around the nipple he was just teasing with his fingers.

Hercules Hansen, you're a right bastard.

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Incorrigible bastard, at that. Mako cannot utter more than a soft sigh, because she is so distracted by the reverent way that he handles her body. She wants to reach and touch him, push him onto his back and let her mouth and tongue count every single freckle and worship every single scar on his body, but the moment his tongue rolls over her skin Mako's train of thought is completely derailed.

"Yes," she says, though her voice is a little strangled and not exactly the strongest it's ever been. He's teasing her, she knows, and it's fantastic.

"More than okay," she adds, reaching to trace her fingers down his cheek to his jaw, smoothing over his skin as her own tightens under his handiwork.

[striker_eureka]

He is teasing her, and he's enjoying it very much.

Her hand is warm and soft against his jaw, his freshly-shaved skin extra sensitive to the touch of her fingers. He hums happily, letting her know he likes that as he draws her nipple between his lips and suckles gently, getting it nice and peaky before working his way across her chest to give the other one the same treatment.

He wants to find out every little thing that makes her breath catch, wants to know just what buttons to push to get her to lose control.

If this is going to be her first time, he's going to make it memorable.

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Her skin pricks under his kisses and her hands find his shoulders, kneading gentle little patterns with her fingertips as she relaxes beneath him. She sighs quietly, because every kiss radiates liquid heat and she's already trembling and it's frustrating, all this inexperience. She'd like to have more of a clue what it is she's doing, what she's supposed to be doing right now, but all she knows to do is keep touching him and keep tracing those little patterns on his body because she's leaving little goosebumps in her wake.

She likes his freckles, though. She'd like to count every single one of them, when she gets a chance.

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Her inexperience doesn't seem to bother him in the slightest. He just keeps working his lips across her skin, worrying a bright strawberry-shaped bruise into her skin where he knows her clothes will hide it, a shit-eating smirk on his face when he pulls back to examine his handiwork.

"Beautiful," he murmurs, stroking his thumb over the bruise to feel the heat of the blood so close to her skin.

He trails kisses over her ribs, to the delicate skin that jumps under his lips — ticklish, Miss Mori? — over the soft planes of her stomach and over to the sharp jut of her hipbone beneath her skin. He nibbles along the hard ridge, and gives in to the urge to leave another little hickey behind. Oops.

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A bit ticklish, yes -- but he doesn't linger much and that's a good thing. If he lingered, that would mean she'd end up giggling and he wouldn't be leaving her so prettily marked up like that, red coloring a stark contrast to the normal tones of her skin.

She's relaxing under him in inches, bit by bit the apprehension is smoothed and ironed out and she's left with an entirely different kind of tension that's started somewhere deep inside of her and is slowly spreading through her entire body.

[striker_eureka]

Hercules would love to discover just how ticklish Mako really is, would love to spend hours making her laugh and smack at him and threaten to kick his ass until they collapsed, breathless, their faces aching from smiling. Maybe next time.

Right now he's tugging on the silk sash that still stubbornly holds her robe together, plucking at it until it gives up and comes undone, letting him push her robe all the way open.

He takes a moment to just look her over, admiring the planes of her body, her flat stomach and her rounded hips and her powerful thighs. He knows the cliche is that young women, especially Japanese women, are supposed to be thin and waifish and so very delicate, but Mako has been training to pilot giant mechas since she was a child, of course she would have muscle cording her legs. He likes that about her, and doesn't try to resist the urge to slither down the bed a little more to start trailing kisses down her thighs, sucking dark hickeys into the smooth, pale skin beneath his lips.

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The knot finally gives and he pushes the silk aside and -- yes, that's Mako, in all her naked glory right here in front of him, bare upon the bed.

She's momentarily worried when he pauses and looks her over - what if he doesn't like all that he sees? What if he changes his mind? What if he decides that no, she's still too young and he gets up and decides that he's going to leave?

Mako watches him warily, body tensing up as she prepares for the worst, muscles flexing underneath his hands until he finally - finally - goes back to what he was doing, his lips burning a trail of kisses along her skin and leaving stinging, red marks in his wake.

She relaxes, and touches his head gently before carefully twisting her fingers in his hair.

[striker_eureka]

He hums happily against her skin, nuzzling the tender skin of her inner thigh, his hands stroking along her body nice and slow and more than a little possessive.

"So beautiful," he mumbles, lifting his head a little so he can smile reassuringly at her, stroking his hands over her body until he feels the tension that's been building up slowly leech away, replaced with another, more fun kind of tension.

He spends a long time mapping out her legs, her strong thighs and solid calves, the hard bone in her ankle and the soft ticklish spot behind her knee, but eventually he muscles his way in between her thighs, hooking one leg over his shoulder and sliding his arm across her hips to hold her in place.

He pauses, though, looks up at her and waits until she meets his eyes.

"Still okay?"

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One hand is lazy in the way it rests on her belly, the other is behind her head and propping it up, though her fist is twisting the fabric of a pillowcase, holding it in an iron grip.

"Yes," she breathes. "Yes. I'm fine." For Gods sake, she's fine, just fine -- better than she's ever been, actually. Her hand slides down to catch his wrist, soft smile on her face as she rubs her fingers over his skin.

"I promise, Hercules. I will tell you if I am not okay."