ikissdhimbck | OOM: Room #100 -- for Tommy Gavin

Well, that was fun.

Right now, nothing can compare to just lying here, indulging in slow, sensuous contact of skin-on-skin, melting into each other, his roughened fingertips following the gentle slope of her back, the dainty dip of her waist.

Sure, Tommy had missed the sex, but the afterglow is half the appeal.

Finally, he makes an effort to stretch his limbs that still tingle with the exertion. Exhaling a deep, satisfied sigh, he idly combs his fingers through Kate's hair, the wild blonde locks falling in waves across his chest.

It's good to be back in her bed again.

She's missed sharing space with a warm body. It's especially nice now, with the chill in the air to contrast the muggy heat of Texas. Her body's draped over his, his chest rising and falling under her head.

"Y'know, I'm beginnin' t'think y'have a thing for my hair."

She smiles, humming softly, and snuggles a little closer when his idle hands cause the fine hairs on the back of her neck to stand on end. Sweat is beginning to cool.

She presses her lips to his heart, scattering kisses across his chest, ending with a playful flick of his nipple with her tongue. She looks up to catch his eyes, smiling with satisfaction.

"That was one helluva welcome back."

Oh, he does have a thing for her hair. The languid grin that spreads across his face should be answer enough.

And so should be the short, breathy chuckle that escapes him at the little flick of her tongue. It pleases him to no end that she's becoming more playful and adventurous in bed (and other places, like utility closets, for starters). This is one aspect that he enjoys about their trysts -- just seeing how much farther she'll go to do something different.

"Well, like I said before, honey, I don't do things half-assed. Tonight you're gonna get everything you deserve for stayin' away for so long."

Her eyebrows arch.

"I dunno whether I should be excited or scared."

She chuckles low in her throat, hand slipping to the mattress on either side of his head. She crawls her way up his body until she's hovering above him, hair falling in curtains around their faces.

"I missed you too, y'know. I know I didn't say so earlier — "

And things had felt so awkward the last time they saw each other, she didn't know what to expect. She didn't know what to say. And then there was no need to say anything, because their bodies were doing the talking.

She kisses him sweetly.

"But I did."

She wouldn't say so, but she's relieved he missed her, too.

"You can be both," he suggests as his grin turns a bit sly.

But as he looks up at her, he's met with a sincere statement and a warm kiss that sort of surprises him, yet not. He'd assumed the best and the worst and everything in between -- that she either missed him as much as he missed her, or that she didn't want to see him anymore and was deliberately avoiding him.

He also wouldn't admit to being relieved to hear her say she missed him.

Instead, he smiles and pulls her in for another kiss, and wraps his arms around her middle, holding her body flush to his.

"'M glad you're back, but I hope whatever you did out there was worth it. How'd you bust up your hand, anyways? The only way I've ever split my knuckles is when I punched someone in the face."

She settles her weight on him, careful not to jab him in any sensitive areas in the process. She's light, and he dwarfs her like this.

"S'a popular method, I'd say."

The quirk of her mouth says the rest.

A beat passes.

"You're kiddin' me. Holy crap. Who'd you hit?"

He can't contain his look of bemused surprise.

She breathes a laugh, dropping her face to the crook of his neck. Just for a moment.

She rests her bandaged hand on his shoulder.

"A couple'a no-accounts who needed hittin'. Men I'd hired, who didn't do what they were s'posed to."

He's caught between being impressed and warily cautious (although that particular sensation coincides with being a little bit turned-on). But he's definitely curious now.

"Really. What'd you hire 'em for?"

She grows pensive.

She's always leery of having this conversation; having to watch as the way people look at her changes. If he were anyone else, she might sidestep around the details and give him some vague story about delicate business, but as it is she's convinced herself that what they have is impermanent anyway. If she's sharing her bed with him, she might as well share the rest. Consequences be damned.

"A few years ago, I started pokin' around this town north'a Green Lake. I followed the Walker's assets to a bank there, an' I wanted t'see how easy it'd be t'break in. Only, while I was there, I started talkin' t'the townsfolk. Met this woman named Viktoria, who told me how the railroad an' the banks were gobblin' up estates, an' puttin' honest folk outta business. Hafta admit, her story reminded me a li'l bit of losin' my daddy's ranch t'the bank. It ain't about what's fair, y'know. It's about who has the most money."

She traces idle patterns across his collarbone.

"Anyhow. My plans changed, an' I decided t'go after this railroad man an' the banker he had in his pocket. Me an' five others. The plan was t'go in, get 'em t'open up that safe, an' make out with the cash without anybody gettin' hurt. Only somebody did. One'a the men I hired ... I don't rightly know what he was thinkin'. We got outta there, left the wounded t'get attention I only hope, an' once we'd all split the cash I gave 'em what for, an' sent 'em on their way."

Oh, right. He's not supposed to care about what she does when she's on her side of the door. He told her as much. He told her with the full understanding that she is an outlaw.

Tommy has two main references when processing the idea of someone robbing a bank: grainy security camera footage shown on the evening news; and scenes from old Western movies. Either one is still far enough removed from his own dealings that it's a little difficult to grasp when the woman he's been sleeping with tells you that she pretty much organized a stick-up while she was away.

His reaction might be hard to read. A deep line forms between his brows, his lips part. His gaze falls to her mouth when she speaks. His hold on her doesn't shift, although his heart thumps a mite harder against her chest.

"Huh."

There's a sort of Robin Hood aspect to the caper anyway. It can't be so bad.

But it's not the crime that concerns him. It's what happens afterward. She's wanted, and she's always in danger of getting caught, of getting shot -- and never making it through the door again. She can tell him that she can take care of herself all she wants, and he'll believe her, but part of missing her was rooted in worry that her luck had run out.

"How much money did you get?"

"A li'l more'n two thousand apiece."

She smiles lazily, but there's a glint of excitement in her eyes. It's good money. In Tommy's currency, it would be close to $50,000.

"More for Viktoria. I tossed her the first bag, an' it was by far the heaviest. It should go a long way for the town, assumin' it all goes right."

She tilts a kiss to his shoulder without breaking eye contact. As unreadable as his expression may be, she has her suspicions. Her movements are slow, shifting her weight back to her hands, knees sliding to either side of his waist.

"You're 'freaked out', ain't you?"

In Tommy's world, two thousand dollars is what someone earning roughly around minimum wage would earn in a month -- before taxes -- but he understands that it's worth a whole lot more in Kate's era. So he'll consider it a nice haul for her, and it was apparently for a good cause.

As she shifts her position, his arms slide from her body, his hands sweeping down her sides to rest on her hips.

"Freaked out? No! No, 'course not, honey. No, no. ...Yes, actually-- but no. A little. Maybe. I dunno."

He sighs and utters a dry chuckle, shaking his head and running a hand through his hair.

"It's just-- I ain't used to being with someone who-- does what you do. But believe me, baby, I'm tryin' to get my head around it, okay, and-- I swear, I remember what you said, I ain't gonna tell you what you can or can't do, but--"

Frowning, he purses his lips and glances away as he runs his palms up and down her thighs. After another deep sigh, his eyes flick back up to hers.

"Can I just maybe say-- I wish you didn't hafta do that? I mean, of course I know you're gonna do it anyways, but I'm just sayin'. It ain't even a suggestion. Or an actual wish. Y'know. Just a statement. Of how I-- y'know-- feel."

She watches him evenly. She's never been good at schooling her expressions. Emotion tends to flash across her features as violently as a thunderstorm; however, ever since the apocalypse, she's gotten in practice with looking like a mirror. Undisturbed, whatever tries to peer inside just bounces right off.

"I ain't used t'bein' with someone who does what I do, either."

The corner of her mouth twitches. He never knew her before. Sometimes it feels like there's more than one voice in her head, and she can't be sure what's up and what's down. She's only ever sure of what she feels in the moment.

She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, pushing herself into a sitting position. She's straddling his hips, fingertips grazing his belly.

"I'm a bad girl, Tommy. I don't have any illusions 'bout that. I'm a bad, bad girl, an' I do what I have to. Sometimes I wish it could be different, too. But it can't."

I'm a bad, bad girl...

And now he wishes she hadn't phrased it exactly like that because of reasons.

But looking up at her, he props himself up onto his elbows.

"I know, I know. You don't need to explain, I get it. It's just that since we first met, it's been all-- talk. Now that you've just pulled off an actual-- job--"

He glances down at her bandaged hand.

Her fingertips. Her thighs spread over him. Her weight on his hips.

Sitting up, he clasps his hands at the small of her back, meeting her eye-to-eye.

"You shouldn't have given those guys their cut for fucking up your plan."

A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth.

She's surprised.

(And a touch scandalized by the obscenity.)

Searching out his face, she breaks into a smile of her own, laughing under her breath. She glances at her bandaged hand, too.

"I may be a criminal, but I'm not a bitch."

She runs her hands over his shoulders, reclaiming eye contact. Now that he knows she's not all talk, what is he gonna do?

He...is going to roll with it.

And laugh. And kiss her. Because that is all he can do, and all he wants to do.

"Oh, you're a bad girl, alright, but yeah, I think you're a little too nice to be a bitch."

The muscles in her back relax when he kisses her, melting into his touch. She kisses him back, slow, thorough, testing the waters.

"Jus' be sure y'never make me angry."

She hangs a crooked smile on her lips, the humor a little dry. She's waiting for him to bolt.

"Might be best t'ply me with gifts. Jus' in case."

Peppering kisses along his jaw, she nips at his ear lobe, hands skating down his front.

He has to laugh again, his arms sliding around her waist.

"I know better than to piss you off, honey."

That doesn't mean he lacks the potential to do it by accident, though. No guarantees.

Her lips, her teeth, her hands make it hard for him to string thoughts together, but after a few indulgent moments with his nose buried in her hair, he manages to say,

"So, let's go to New York. As soon as you can, we'll go. I mean it."

"Hmm?"

Her voice hums in his skin. She drops one last kiss to his throat, and pulls back.

"New York? To ... meet your family?"

That's what he'd suggested, the last time they spoke. She's every bit as freaked out by the thought now as she was then.

His turn to blink.

"No-- to go ice skating and sight-seeing. I mean-- well, I'm gonna make sure that none of my family will be at home when you visit just so we can spend some time alone together, but I'm sure there'll be other times. That is, if you'd still want to someday."

He shrugs.

"Oh."

She closes her eyes, laughing quietly. Of course, the ice skating lesson. She'd almost forgot.

And it's a much more appealing offer. It isn't just that she's nervous about getting too close, moving too fast; December just isn't the best time of year for her.

She looks down.

"All right. Sure."

He eyes her expression, her downcast gaze.

"Okay. Just lemme know when you're ready to go, alright? I really, really wanna take you. It'll be fun."

Tilting her chin up, he kisses her gently on the lips, hoping to bring her back from wherever she'd retreated.

"While we're on the subject of New York," he adds, stroking her cheek and her hair, "I dunno if you'd be interested, but-- I got an invitation to a holiday party. From Aphrodite. Y'know, the goddess an' all. It's at her place in her own version of New York City, and-- I dunno-- would you wanna go?"

It's hard to tell if she's blushing in her post-sex flush, tousled hair creating a halo around pink skin, lips rosy and eyes wide. She blinks at him.

"What's this about?"

She intentionally keeps laughter in her voice, though she isn't really feeling it.

He gives another shrug.

"'S just a party. Food, music, all that stuff. I mean, I figure if a goddess throws a party, you can't really say no. And of course there's gonna be other Milliways patrons there, so I wasn't sure if you'd wanna go, since you don't really want people to-- uh, know we're-- uh--"

With each other? Dating? Sleeping together?

"Y'know."

Now he's looking uncertain.

"But hey, you don't hafta make a decision now, the party won't be for a little while, I'm just putting it out there."

Wrapping his arms around her waist again, he leans into her, giving her a warm squeeze as he dips his head to kiss her shoulder.

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