It was a particularly boring ride home and you might as well be sitting alone in your compartment, watching the landscape rushing by because your friend was very quiet today. Train rides had something soothing however, so you just allowed yourself to relish in this calm state you’ve been missing out on the last days and didn’t give your uncommunicative companion any further thought. If you were honest, you’d rather had liked to spend the day on your own anyway but she called, you’re bad at saying no so, what the fuck. Here you were.
Autumn was dawning and drew attention to its presence by randomly painting patches of leaves in bright orange tones. It was delightful. You hoped to say good bye to your friend at the station, get home soon after this long, exhausting day and make yourself a nice cup of hot chocolate. At times, you needed something stronger —you’d grown fond of whisky recently— but tonight the thought of turning into your dizzier self filled you with discomfort. Maybe because Sweeney wasn’t here. With him, drinking was a much lighter experience and that had nothing or at least very little to do with him being an Irishman. It was nice though, having someone with you who’d still be sober enough to bring you home and tug you into bed. This world felt so much safer when you were with him. You had to admit you missed your drinking partner. Maybe a bit too much.
It had started to rain at some point. Big drops chased each other on the now blurred window. You couldn’t recall when exactly it began to pour, which made you realize how tired you actually were. Tired or thoughtfully disgruntled. One of the above.
Your friend was still very quiet but she seemed to have enjoyed the day. You recalled something she said to you this morning —a remark long forgotten throughout the day— and wanted to ask her about it as in that very moment the door to your compartment opened. You wouldn’t object someone joining you since there were six seats and just the two of you occupying the space but as you looked up at Sweeney, you felt like declining the question you knew wouldn’t follow.
And just as you assumed, Sweeney stepped in without bothering to ask whether he indeed might and sat down on the seat opposite you, next to the window. He grinned at you and you sighed. Usually, this man popped up right that minute when you needed him most and yes, you’d be happy if your friend wasn’t there. But she was and so was he and at this point you wanted them both gone.
It dawned on you that not introducing them would make things awkward, especially if Sweeney would ask if he could accompany you home later. You bit the bullet.
“That’s Sweeney,” you said, not turning to your friend while doing so.
He gave your friend a nod and you hoped this was the start and the end of the exchange these two would ever share. Well. What did you expect? Today was kinda shit anyway.
“More like Sweetie,” your friend murmured in a hushed voice that made you cringe a bit.
Sweeney gave her one of his grins as well, having spent so much time with him however, you could tell the one for you was more genuine. “And who might ya be?”
Turning your head, you saw that your friend started playing with her hair as she told Sweeney her name. That made you crave being home even more.
“She never told me about you,” your friend remarked.
There we go, you thought, you were ‘she’ now. Your identity was fading and diminished to a mere pronoun which would be shoved back into subclauses and finally cease to exist in the next half hour, just like all these times at various parties in the presence of hot boys. You were used to that pattern and normally wouldn’t mind but it somehow bugged you that this very scenario repeated itself because of Sweeney.
Who subsequently raised an amused eyebrow at this new piece of information. It was true, you didn’t tell anyone about him.
“Why’s that, love?”
You didn’t answer. You had no idea. Additionally, this whole situation felt surreal. What was he even doing here?
Your friend propped herself up in her seat, “So, are the two of you dating?”
Well. At least she double-checked. You had to give her that. Smiling, you plainly said, “No, we’re not,” You turned away to your window, noticing Sweeney staring back at you. His lips might be twitching up into his cheeky smirk but it never reached his eyes.
“Do you have a girlfriend?”
Oh god. She’s absolutely going there. Why didn’t she just get back to her quiet state from before? You were inclined to shoot Sweeney an apologetic look but you reconsidered. If this prick chose to show up now, he had to deal with it. And you didn’t give a fuck about who either of them slept with. If it should come to that. Why not, actually? She’d take him home, that meant he wouldn’t linger around in your apartment. Good for you.
“That ain’t any of your fuckin’ business, lass,” he drawled. She wouldn’t take the hint, you already knew.
Your friend laughed, “That’d be a no, I guess.”
Sweeney straightened up, glaring at your friend. You secretly called it ‘the thing’ he did. No one could tell what would follow that look. Sometimes, it was a laugh, sometimes a fist. A poor fellow you both met at a bar two weeks ago witnessed the latter and it was not a pleasant sight. You didn’t feel too bad about it though because after all, that dude with his groping hands had it coming. That was another good thing about bar hopping with Sweeney. Now, however, ‘the thing’ gave you the chills. You started to get a feeling that these two together would not work out well.
“Lady—,” Sweeney started, now mildly annoyed, but was interrupted by you.
“What are you doing here anyway?” picking up your thought from earlier, you tried to deescalate, “You told me you’d be gone a while.”
Sweeney knew what you were trying to do and he looked grateful, as far as grateful could reach that sassy face of his. He had told you about his little jobs around the country. You didn’t ask a lot of questions since it didn’t seem to be Sweeney’s favorite topic. He was gone a week at most. You could expect him to stand on your doorstep like clockwork. The gap between the last time and now however, —two weeks— had felt like a year if not more. A plain, uneventful, grey year without a spark of easy laughter to light up your days. What the fuck had you even been doing these past two weeks?
“Oh, so you’re not living here?” your friend butted in, “You need a place to stay?” She chuckled before adding an innocent ‘kidding’, winking at Sweeney.
Before he could so much as react to that, she turned to you, “Oh, by the way. There’s something I wanted to talk about,” you kind of began to sense you wouldn’t like this, “Could I stay the night? I don’t really have the energy to go home.”
You almost declined. Really, you were this close to saying no but then you remembered her words from this morning, the thing you wanted to ask before Sweeney joined you, her telling you that she felt a little down lately. Knowing you were being guilt-tripped, you swore internally. Then, feeling Sweeney glare at you again, you said yes, regretting it immediately.
At least she didn’t continue to play hundred questions with Sweeney and excused herself to use the bathroom. You found yourself looking out the window again, contemplating how you just had the promise of a calm night taken away by your own stupidity.
“You’re a fuckin’ idiot.”
You wished he had just left it uncommented. “Well, it’s on me to deal with it so why don’t ya just mind ya own fuckin’ business,” you half-heartedly threw his words back at him in a mediocre attempt to mimic his accent.
“Who is she anyway?” he asked irritated.
“And ya choose her over me?”
Laughing tiredly, you answered, “That was never the choice to make, you just came in here after two weeks of being possibly dead and—”
“Aww, did you miss me, love?” he chuckled and you hated to admit it but he looked very charming now.
Remembering that this was not the first time you noticed this kind of thing, you felt anger boiling up in you and if you had any motivation of telling him what his absence truly made you feel, that made you drop it. “Nope,” you simply said, “And you’re gonna play nice from now on. She likes you,” you gestured towards your friend’s empty seat.
Sweeney furrowed his brows at that, somewhat confusedly, then scoffed, “I don’t like her.”
You turned away from him which seemed to irritate him even more. “Listen, I’m not gonna fuck your friend to make the both of ya feel better ‘bout yourselves.”
“Who said something about fucking?” you shot back at him, unconsciously clenching your fist, “Just don’t be your usual asshole self for once.”
And you knew he could. He was sweet when he was with you. All cheeky smiles and flirtatious remarks. Hell, you couldn’t believe you were admitting this but he could be a real gentleman if he wanted to. And now you went back to wishing it would be only you and Sweeney on this train ride. You wanted to grab a drink on your way home, him walking you to your apartment with a strong arm around your waist. Falling on your couch together, giggling, the world reducing itself to your tiny living room, making the two of you the last people on this planet. Fuck, you needed that so badly.
“Bathroom’s pretty crappy,” your friend complained as she stepped back into your compartment. Neither you nor Sweeney felt the urge to comment on that and you spent the rest of the ride home in a tense silence, sometimes interrupted by another one of your friend’s flirting attempts.
At one point, you noticed that Sweeney stopped watching you. He was pissed, you could tell. You stopped asking yourself what he came for. No chance he’d tell you any time soon so, why bother? He probably needed to let off some steam after these two weeks of doing whatever the fuck it was he was doing and if it wasn’t for your friend, you’d likely be the target of his unpleasantness. Although, you couldn’t really recall actually being mistreated. In the beginning maybe, yeah, but calling each other cunt and adding crude remarks to the other’s sentences had been a mutual thing. You even had hit him once, above the eye, in a heated argument and there was so much blood you had been terrified you had seriously injured him. He reluctantly had let you drag him home but his protests had stopped as he realized you wouldn’t let him leave before giving him the proper medical attention. He had slept on the couch that night and you had felt so bad the next morning that you had forced him to stay for breakfast. That day you two had become friends.
Shortly before arriving at your station, Sweeney pulled out a cigarette and started smoking. You knew better than to snap at him at this point but it was kind of a slap in the face. He smoked a lot but you had noticed one day that he had stopped doing it in your presence. He excused himself and went out on your balcony or left the bar for a few minutes. You had asked him why, to which he answered with an untypical shy smile and a remark that had haunted you ever since: “I care for ya well-being, love.” That was also the first time he established the ‘love’-thing. It made you feel warm inside every time he called you that. Now, in that small compartment, you felt nothing but coldness.
The three of you had dinner at your place and you still hoped for Sweeney to just get up and leave. He had followed you and your friend home wordlessly. It would had been alright with you if everyone just shut up and went to bed afterwards —Sweeney on the couch in your living room, your friend on the one in yours— but something told you that you wouldn’t get any of that well-deserved rest you craved so much. Well. It was your fault. You could had told everyone to fuck off and now you had to deal with the confusion of wanting to be alone and on the other hand wanting Sweeney to yourself. Was that it? Were you jealous? Your friend forced herself quite close next to him on your narrow couch and she had had a few beers already.
“I think you really should give me your number. For next time when you’re in town”, she purred.
Sweeney seemed to decide that ignoring her would be a good idea. However, it wasn’t, you knew, because when ignored, she got touchy to get the attention back. He slapped her hand away rudely and she giggled. No one was to touch that fiery mane of his. With his hair, he had always reminded you of a reptile, especially when you looked at his profile. He really was like a tall, angry dragon.
Sweeney started to glare at you again. What, this was your fault now?
“Listen,” you said through gritted teeth, “No one forces you to be here.”
Sweeney kicked your friend’s legs away when she tried to put them on his. He just kept glaring and you felt your fury jolting through you like tiny shocks.
“Desperate, ain’t we?” It was directed to your friend but with him staring right into your eyes your heart couldn’t help but skip a beat.
She agreed by butting her head against his broad shoulder. For fuck’s sake, only you were allowed to do that.
Sweeney put a finger to her forehead and slowly pushed her away from him. “It ain’t happenin’, lass.”
She wouldn’t take the fucking hint, Sweeney, you thought with annoyance at them both. You decided to leave them to squabble it out and take a shower.
“There’s someone I like,” Sweeney muttered barely audibly, “So … go fuck yourself,” he added.
You left the living room, pretending you had not heard it.
The shower was good and what was even better was finding your friend already asleep in your bed. Sweeney must had had enough and had either knocked her out or the alcohol had made her sleepy at last. You hoped for the latter but with Sweeney one couldn’t be entirely sure.
From the various times he had slept over, he knew how to unfold the couch to turn it into a bed and where you stored the pillows and blankets. You didn’t find him sleeping, though. The door to your balcony was standing wide open and a tall silhouette occasionally blew smoke into the starless, dark sky. You filled two glasses of bourbon.
“What a shitty day,” you sighed, stepping out into the cool air.
He ignored you but at least he put out his cigarette. You noticed how calm you had become and you told yourself it was the shower.
You felt his eyes on you again, Sweeney’s gaze somewhat accusing and finally he said, “Ya have no idea.”
You intended to put his glass of bourbon down on the little table in front of you but Sweeney reached out and took it from your hand. You forced yourself to look at the night sky instead of following that rom-com-trope of ‘oh my god, his fingers grazed mine for a split second’. They felt rough, though. And yet tender. Oh god, what the fuck were you doing here?
“So,” you started off, taking a sip from your glass, “Why did you seek me out?”
He scoffed, “Oh, now I need a fuckin’ reason to see ya?”
“I didn’t mean that.”
He turned toward you, his right arm propped up on the balcony balustrade. “What do ya think I came here for?”
You sighed again, “You tell me.”
He took a sip of bourbon, too. “Well, I can assure ya for a start that I did not intend to be hit on by some stupid cunt who looks like she could still be humpin’ pillows,” Now, he straightened up, stepping closer. He seemed even taller like this, if that was at all possible. You had to stretch your neck back in an uncomfortable angle to still be able to look him in the eyes —which, by the way, flooded you with an anxious sensation. “Why did ya invite her over, huh? I’ve been gone for two weeks and instead of spendin’ time with me alone—”
“You’re not. The fucking center. Of my universe.”
Oh, but he was. And you knew it. All these last days you spent hoping for a knock at your door, making yourself stay up an hour longer than usual —just in case— and always ended up finishing that bottle of wine on your own. God, what had this man done to you?
“Sweeney. I’m very tired. I want to go to bed now,” you said, weary and drained, “Let’s just discuss all that shit tomorrow, okay?”
Hoping he’d see how you felt and how much you wanted this day to end, you turned halfway to leave the balcony, “Close this door when you go to sleep,” you added but at once, a firm hand was wrapped around your arm.
“Are ya even happy to see me?” Sweeney’s voice sounded cramped like some huge weight had hit him and he couldn’t get back up. You were all too familiar with that feeling, “And what’s to be discussed anyway? Ya have childish friends and don’t give a single fuck ‘bout me.”
Okay, that was ridiculous, “Excuse you, you goddamn prick, who’s the one who just vanishes and expects me to be all bubbly with excitement as soon as you choose to show up once in a while, like I’m some fucking pet?” Mid-sentence you noticed how loud you got so your voice turned into hushed whispering, “Fuck. You. Sir.”
There it was again, ‘the thing’ his eyes did, as if he tried to glare you to death. At this point you were just so done with him that you merely scoffed. You’d honestly be glad if this turned into a physical fight. Let all those bottled-up feelings out at last.
What followed however was neither a rough hand nor his mocking laughter and nothing in this world could had prepared you for it. Sweeney wrapped an arm around you, lifted you up so you lost the ground beneath your feet and kissed you. Long and deep and like you’ve never been kissed before. A large hand on the back of your head held you in place and when you broke apart, it stayed there, making you look at him. You were too baffled to even think about freeing yourself from this floating situation. You stared at Sweeney and he stared right back.
“What the fuck?” It had started off angry but suddenly you couldn’t remember what you were angry about.
“That’s what I came here for, love.”
Slowly, you wrapped your arms around his neck. You noticed how you both were out of breath, gasping for air quietly but greedily. Pressed up against Sweeney’s chest, you felt two hearts pounding, yours nowhere near its usual calm rhythm. Allowing yourself to ignore his intense, hungry eyes for a moment, you asked yourself what you wanted. Answering that didn’t take that long, though.
“Anything else?”, you whispered, grazing your fingers lightly through his hair.
He smirked at that and lifted you further up into bridal style, carrying you back to the living room, closing the balcony door with an unconcerned kick.
The flood of the cold night air stopped, however, you wouldn’t had noticed either way. Your body was on fire, hottest where Sweeney’s hands touched you, and you felt wetness starting to pool between your legs. His ridiculously long fingers caressed your cheek as he sat you down on the couch, him kneeling between your spread legs. Your breathing fastened slightly as he reached to touch the seam of your pajama top, yet, he held still suddenly.
“This ain’t some mood of mine,” he said, weirdly flustered and —if you saw correctly in the dim light— blushing. You leaned forward and kissed him. A quick peck on his soft lips and pulled away. He followed you as you lay on your back, chasing you slowly, demanding more and yet still holding back.
“I know it isn’t.”
For this to be a mere fuck to be forgotten and regretted the next morning, Sweeney’s hands were shaking too much, his glances too nervous now. You pulled him down into another kiss, this one deep and passionate like the first and you heard Sweeney muffle a noise he never made before.
You encouraged him to keep going by wrapping your legs around his hips and he made that noise again, a growl deep in his throat, as you pressed into his hard length.
It drew your attention to your throbbing, pulsing center, aching for Sweeney to touch you. Tugging at his suspenders, you made him take them off, the old, white top followed suit shortly after. Then he got back to freeing you from your clothes and you felt like finally being able to breath. He stared down at your bare chest, your breasts lifting and lowering with every shaky inhale, your nipples hard and sensitive by now.
Your panting became harder, making it quite evident how much you wanted this. Sweeney started kissing down a trail from your neck to your breasts, over your stomach, stopping at the seam of your panties. You opened your legs wider, propping them up at the end of the couch for balance. Sweeney chuckled as he pushed two fingers against your clothed sex, gushing at how wet you were for him.
“Don’t squirm, love. Don’t do it.”
“Then get the fuck on with it,” you almost begged.
He leaned forward with that smirk on his face, and sucked at your clit through the fabric. You felt the urge to scream out of pleasure but remembered your other guest sleeping a few rooms down the hall. So instead, you put a hand to your mouth, muffling a quivering sound. You felt Sweeney’s tongue running up and down your cunt, teasing you in the cruellest way. You wanted to feel him fully and you wanted him to finally fuck you.
“Remember that night two weeks ago, when this piece o’ shit started to harass ya?”
Swallowing, you propped yourself up on your elbows, glaring down at Sweeney. “What about it?” you asked brusquely.
“That night, I wanted us to end up just like this,” he smiled fondly, “Ya sprawled out beneath me, just aching for me to—”
“Get to it, please!”
He smirked at your impatience. Hell, you swore, if he didn’t stop that teasing shit soon enough, you’d climb that big stupid man right here and now.
“Ya have no idea how many times I tried to tell ya …” his rough hand wandered up to your cheek, his fingers tracing your jawline, “You’re the most precious thing to me.”
That was about as much as you could take. You threw your arms around his neck and rolled over until Sweeney was beneath you. Getting rid of your panties, you straddled him, his impressive erection, still wrapped in his trousers, lined up with your entrance. He made a choking sound at the sight of your naked body and his worshipping gaze took in everything you offered. You wanted him so badly, him filling you out, his hands all over your body, him fucking you into oblivion until he’d bring you that sweet release.
“Fuck, what are you doing to me?” you whispered, franticly opening his trousers.
Sweeney laughed breathlessly and helped you get rid of his pants. They were overdue anyway, you thought. Hesitantly, you grazed a thumb over the head of his cock. Huge and throbbing, just like you had imagined in your daydreams you told no one about. The anticipation of having him inside you made you shiver pleasantly.
“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Sweeney groaned as you took his cock by its shaft and guided it, feeling the thick tip entering you, stretching you out. Sweeney moaned and immediately, you put your hand to his mouth.
“Keep it down, dammit”, you urged to which he answered with a cocky chuckle.
“Ya won’t be exactly quiet either.”
“Oh, you think?” you mocked, gliding further down onto his cock, feeling him tense beneath you.
Sweeney closed his eyes and took in a sharp breath, “You’re making me loose myself, love.”
“Please do,” your eyes glaring down the same hungry way as he did before, “I mean it, Sweeney. Fuck me.”
All you felt was the sudden pressure on your waist when he flipped you over. At once, the air in your lungs was gone as Sweeney pulled out entirely just to slam his length right back into you.
The sound of flesh slapping against flesh over and over in a merciless rhythm made you dizzy. Steady hands held your hips in place, fingers pressing against your soft skin. Oh god, you hoped he’d leave bruises. You wanted to be marked as his, you wanted to be owned and judging by the looks he shot you, he knew. He knew and he’d make you his. As if you weren’t already.
Sweeney moaned your name, thrusting deep into you, angling his cock upwards so it’d hit all the good spots. You cried out. This, you wouldn’t be able to take much longer. Frantically you reached out to grab his wrists, pulling him down onto you. The way his large body just cradled yours perfectly filled you with a weird urge to start crying and you tore him down into another kiss before you’d lose it. Sweeney breathed your name and all kinds of endearments against your lips and you saw in his beautiful eyes that he shared your sensation.
You felt a terrifyingly huge pressure rising up in you and you started to whimper, to quiver and to pull at Sweeney’s hair. This would not be the kind of climax you were used to, you knew as your legs started trembling uncontrollably. One of Sweeney’s hand cupped the back of your head, his fingers combing through your hair. The sight of him smiling down at you lovingly, and yet being in that exact same state of ecstasy, eyes half-closed, mouth opened slightly, made you cry out his name and he shushed you, his thrusts growing more desperate, accompanied by his little noises.
“I’m gonna come, love,” you heard him say through gritted teeth, his lust-filled voice far away.
You drew him closer, skin pressed against skin, but Sweeney propped himself up, the heat of his body gone, and reached down to stroke your clit. He had ignored that part for the most time and the sudden contact made you see stars. Pressing a hand to your mouth you came as hard as you’d never had in your whole life, shaking through your orgasm, your cunt clenching down on Sweeney’s cock and as soon as you got through the primal aftershocks, you heard him sputter, choke back his groans only to release them in deep growls, calling your name while coming inside you.
He collapsed onto you, careful to not crush you beneath his weight. You both were gasping for air shakily and no one said a word for five minutes, as you gathered yourself from your post-orgasmic state. You felt the fingers on the back of your head stroking you again, kisses were being placed on your neck, your jaw, your temple.
“I never want to get up again,” you admitted, still out of breath.
“If you’d hadn’t invited your stupid friend over we could’ve gotten to this so much sooner,” Sweeney said and you both chuckled at that.
Although you wanted nothing more than to stay like this forever, you eventually got up and grabbed your night gear, covering yourself, much to Sweeney’s disliking.
“She can’t find us like this in the morning,” you whispered, amused at how needy he got.
He pulled you back onto the sleeping couch, arranged the pillows and spread out the blanket over the two of you. “Oh, so you’re not getting dressed?” you asked teasingly and raised an eyebrow. He just grinned mischievously.
Wrapped up in the blanket and Sweeney’s large arms, you lay down, facing him. Contently, you let your fingers roam over his chest, tracing the lines of his muscles. All the tension you had gathered throughout the day was gone and you let yourself fall into a sleepy state, relishing in the occasional kisses. You felt Sweeney’s smile on you, although it was dark; this tall stupid man who was too huge for you tiny sleeping couch simply beaming at you like he was the happiest man in this world.
You were drifting away, however at one point, you opened your eyes again, looking up at Sweeney. “That thing you said about me before we … Say it again,” you demanded.
“You’re the most precious thing to me, my love.”
That night, when you fell asleep, you felt like being in the safest place on earth.