PSL: accommodated

[not_kenway]

For a week, Connor didn't get a lot of quality time with Desmond.

Desmond had work and Connor had medical appointments and when he was home, he tended to crash out under a mix of relieving stress, modern pain medication and the energy taken to heal wounds like he was recovering from.

He wasn't sleeping well, either. His nightmares were worse than ever and his sleep paralysis was still completely broken, meaning he thrashed, rolled and sometimes struck out in his sleep. Which was also the reason he didn't wear his bracers to bed, unwilling to risk Desmond's safety, should he mistakenly think Haytham was the weight on top of him.

But when he had his last medical check and bout of whatever strange healing technology this place used, he decided to surprise Desmond at work.

He arrived near the end of his shift, dressed in the jeans that Desmond had always liked on him and the loose white shirt that was technically only his on Wednesdays (but since he was wearing it for Desmond, he felt it counted). His bear claw necklace was visible, the second leather thong with the Creator coin hung low enough to remain nearly completely out of sight. The hidden blades looked like decorative, leather cuffs and he exuded quiet, competent danger as he moved through the crowd and up to the bar, waiting to see how long it took Desmond to see him.

Comments

[not_kenway]

It will take time for Connor's strength to rebuild, where he can easily lift Desmond's weight without needing support against the wall. He can manage now, leaning against the door and pulling Desmond up against him, up onto his toes and pushing a thigh between Desmond's legs to hold him there.

The next kiss is hungry and slower, teeth on Desmond's lip and tugging softly before letting go to gasp a breath. The scar itself feels nothing but the skin around the edges is sensitive and has him arching his body and pushing his leg up further.

[accommodated]

And, oh, for that glorious moment, Connor's thigh between his, kissing him slow and hungry like that, Desmond could forget about the rest of the world. Damn well does when it hitches up further, groaning soft and low in the back of his throat. The friction is a good slice of heaven. Bit over dramatic? Maybe, but he'd like to see anyone else argue with him right now. They'd lose, he'd make sure of it.

Desmond leans into it with a slow, pronounced roll of his hips, making sure his mouth doesn't stray too far from Connor's. Calloused fingertips continue to trace that sensitive skin, too. He needs to feel Connor keep arching like that, needs to hear the man's breath in his ear, the heat of his body. Enough that he peels his hand away from that hip to every so slowly walk fingers over to the button to Connor's fly.

"I ever tell you how good it is that your the first and last thing I usually see every day?" The question is murmured against Connor's mouth after another quick kiss, Desmond's dark eyes half-lidded and watching closely.

Dexterous fingers know exactly hot to pop that button open without needing his other hand.

"It's a wonder I get anything done other than you these days."

[not_kenway]

If Desmond were wearing less, Connor would probably heft him up by the grip he has, put his legs around his waist. If Connor were stronger, more recovered, he could just carry Desmond back through the apartment, to the bedroom.

Neither of these is true, so Connor just half opens his eyes when Desmond speaks, tasting the words on his breath with parted lips and fairly sure that no response is required or even wanted in answer. No, Desmond has never said that specifically, but he's expressed enough sentiments that are similar that it's a given.

Connor nuzzles another soft kiss to the corner of Desmond's lips, then to the top of the scar over his mouth, and then shifts to slot their mouths together for a slow kiss. He feels like he should have something clever to say in return, but he doesn't and he doesn't want to break the kiss to try.

[accommodated]

There would be time for all of that later, when Connor's got more of his strength. Sure, landing square back in the hospital or whatever because you were trying to pick up your partner after some heavy making out would be a funny story to tell. In practice, however? Not so much fun. And no-- no, no real answer was needed.

That slow, heater kiss is all the answer Desmond actually needs.

His second hand joins the first, working Connor's fly open. He'll move them both in a bit. Right now? Bit busy stepping back enough so that getting a hand down the front of those pants is doable, palming Connor slowly, teasingly. Doesn't break that kiss for anything, either.

[not_kenway]

Tearing healing muscle by picking up your large, heavily muscled partner for sexy times was not how Connor wanted to end this night.

Connor makes a low sound, unhappy to have to let Desmond down at all, but he loosened his grip on Desmond's butt to let him shuffle back a little. He doesn't regret the decision when Desmond's hand slips into his clothing, skin rough in all the right, familiar ways. He groans into the kiss, teeth softly catching Desmond's lip and then licking the pinched flesh, hips pushing up into the grip.