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

[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.

[driftcompatible]

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.

[driftcompatible]

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.

[striker_eureka]

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.

[driftcompatible]

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.

[driftcompatible]

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?"

[driftcompatible]

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."

[striker_eureka]

"Okay, just checking."

He turns his wrist over in her grip and squeezes her fingers, smiling up at her for a moment and winking before he ducks his head and goes back to what he was doing. Namely, nosing into dark curls, huffing warm air against her skin until he finds her clit and can give it a little lick hello.

That accomplished, he sets to exploring her with his lips and his tongue, mapping out every inch of her and taking detailed mental notes about what she does and doesn't like.

Boy is he glad he shaved.

[driftcompatible]

Oh God. He's incorrigible -- that wink has her staring in shock but it doesn't last, because her head is tipping back and she's going to die right here in this hotel room bed, because this is unlike anything she's ever felt before.

"Hercules--"

His name is choked out, gasped, cried -- there's not one word to describe all the way that she calls his name as he explores her, leaving no stone unturned.

There's a few strangled swear in Japanese to accompany his name, but mostly -- it's incomprehensible babble that isn't really intelligible.