Work Text:
They stager into the hotel laughing.
It’s raining hard, one of the torrential downpours that comes and vanishes with just enough time in between to soak you to your skin. They’re both soaked. It’s too warm for their pilot jackets and the material of their tanks clings to their skin. It’s as easy as breathing to turn to her and press their mouths together. She kisses him back easily, pushing herself up to get better leverage on their height difference.
He kisses her hotly, his tongue pressing into her mouth as they stagger into their hotel room. They’re dressed in civilian clothes, part of the press tour that’s been forced upon them. He’s better at it than her or pretty boy, but it feels like the cameras are on him for the wrong reasons and that’s something he hates.
She pushes him back into the hotel room and kicks the door behind her. The dress she’s wearing is black and loose and wraps around her, tying at the waist. He’s in a suit, not his usual dress uniform. They are born and bred warriors, the civillian clothes feel too soft and strange on their skin.
She slides his jacket off as they kiss harder. He palms her waist as she works the buttons on his shirt. Behind her he opens the buttons on his wrists as she pushes the material off his shoulders and slows to guide it off his arms, working around the bandages that are still there from his latest surgery to repair his damaged arm.
"Mako," he groans her name as the softness of her dress presses to his chest, the last ‘o’ coming out as a breathless groan when she kisses the hollow of his throat. His fingers dig into her back when the soft kiss turns into a teasing bite.
They stagger over to the bed and his hand grasps the clasp of her belt, undoing it and tossing it to the side. There’s a small button that he threads the fabric through and then the dress just falls away. His mouth goes dry because he realizes that, like him, every inch of her has been scrubbed and polished and wrapped in expensive fabric.
It’s weird.
He wants them back in their usual clothes, doing what they’re supposed to be doing. His fingers reach out and brush the lace that runs along her shoulders. She’s breathing hard, her breasts heaving under his fingertips. His fingers dip along the curve of her breast before his palm presses to the soft mound. She exhales with a breathless sound, pressing into his palm as his eyes close.
Her fingers toy with the edges of his boxer briefs as she pushes him back until the back of his knees touch the bed. He turns his hand and wraps his fingers around her ribs. He feels the muscles tighten and relax under his fingers. Her body is a marvel, but he’s never imagined it being as soft as it is under his fingertips. His skin is almost damningly tan against hers, as if she’s some princess whose been locked away. Never to see the sun.
"Do you—" she begins but he cuts her off with his mouth, pushing his tongue inside her mouth.
She responds enthusiastically, digging her fingers into his lower back. His hands fumble with his belt as he pulls it of, working at his pants as she grabs pushes them down and shrugs out of the dress. The feel of skin on skin makes it hard to think as he tosses her dress to the side and kicks off his shoes, sliding his pants somewhere under the bed. He winds his arms around her as she arches into his touch before pushing him forward.
He falls onto the bed and pulls her with him, pushing their bodies together. She digs her fingers into his shoulders. They are warriors, even scrubbed up and polished and gentle isn’t something that computes for either of them. It’s like sparring but the thrill of a promised victory is replaced by the hot licks of pleasure that urge them forward. Her thighs tighten around him as he feels the heat of her center, separated only by the thin fabric that covers them both.
He swears because he doesn’t know what else to do. He’s still broken and confused and spends a good deal of time feeling like an anchor-less boat. Like a sword that’s been used and then sheathed. Still a good blade, still a great blade, but blades have no use in a time of peace. The fucked up thing is that Mako understands. Mako understands and the thought that someone can makes his heart stutter in a way he is definitely not comfortable with.
He ducks his head and kisses her neck in a way she loves as her hands reach behind her and undo the clasp of her bra. It falls away and he shudders when their chests press together. He knows her body because despite feeling like he’s an anchor-less boat, he’s stil Chuck Hansen and he doesn’t do anything half assed. He knows almost every spot that makes her moan. Well, almost all of them anyway.
"Shit, hang on," he mutters and pushes himself away from her, staggering over to where his pants are and snagging his wallet.
When he turns back Mako’s grinning and he rolls his eyes, fighting between embarrassment and the overwhelming desire to finally do this. Mako doesn’t give him any opportunity to let embarrassment win as she pushes herself up on her elbow. He comes back over to the bed and crawls forward along the length of her body, dipping his head as she threads her fingers through his hair. He reaches her lips and they press together, a hot slide of mouths that makes him groan low and press his hand to the bed with the condom in it.
Mako’s fingers thread through his and pulls the condom from him. He grins against her lips.
"You realize if I knock you up my dad’s going to kill us both for making him a grandpa?" he says.
"Then you’d better not knock me up," she says kissing that spot behind his ear before her small hand slips around him.
His breath catches because he doesn’t think that feeling is ever going to get old. Even if now he really really likes it. She moves her hand on him until he’s hard in her hand. With her other she holds up the packet and uses her mouth to get it open which nearly makes him lose his mind right there and then. She hesitates long enough to give him a questioning look and he kisses her hard.
"Shut up," he mumbles against her mouth.
She laughs anyway and he can’t really describe how he feels about that. She reaches out and rolls the condom along his length. He presses into her center and she nods, making a soft sound of permission. He moves his hips forward and pushes all the way in. Her body tightens around him and he presses his forehead into her shoulder, gasping roughly.
It isn’t the feeling of her being around him, of the way she tighten and moans softly in his ear. Or it’s not that entirely. It’s the feeling of being so completely entangled with someone. Someone he’s never drifted with, someone who he actually has to let in out of his own choice and not impulse. Letting her in is his choice and that thought scares the shit out of him—even though he’s already made it.
She swears at him in Japanese and jerks her hips up in a not-so-subtle demand.
He nods and moves his hips experimentally. He frowns and changes the angle of his hips until her back arches with a ragged cry and her body tightens around him. They pick up a rhythm and he closes his eyes, trying to focus on not losing himself completely. Mako grabs one of his hands and moves it between their bodies. He grins and moves his fingers against her. He knows the signs of her body but he’s never been inside her before and it’s hard as fuck to listen to her cry out louder and tighten around him without losing his mind.
But Chuck Hansen doesn’t half ass anything, not even his first time having sex.
Only when she cries out in that particular way does he let himself go, driving into her hard and rough until his eyes roll up and he buries his face in her neck as he comes undone.
They lay together breathing roughly, their bodies still joined and Chuck struggles to wrap his mind around the feeling of being so close to someone without drifting. He manages to push himself out of her and roll to the side, though it almost hurts to do so until she rolls with him and settles herself against his chest. Sweat dampens both their skins and he feels oddly languid. Like he could lay there for a long, long time and be perfectly content.
"I supposed," she says softly, her fingers gently tracing a pattern agains this chest, "this means your father won’t have to give you the sex talk again?"
"Shut up," he breathes out half heartedly, "or I’m telling him this is your fault?"
"What?" she teases lightly, "that I took your vir—"
He rolls her onto her back and kisses her into silence. She makes a muffled sound but kisses him back, threading her fingers through his hair. He kisses her and feels himself harden again against her thigh. She smiles against his lips and looks over at his discarded pants before looking back up at him. He grins down at her.
"Once a Ranger always a Ranger," he says cockily, "i came prepared."