notfaking_it | (no subject)

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delta

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Lily wasn't sure what the time was.

She knew she'd seen Sawyer, gone home, showered, thought about calling someone and in the end decided against it. She remembered leaving the apartment, thinking again about stopping at Nina's, then that she had walked to a nearby bar instead. She remembered buying her first drink, and receiving the few drinks that came after, but she couldn't put faces to the men who'd bought them for her.

They didn't matter. No one mattered.

This was why she never stayed in one place for too long. This was the reason she kept moving, finding a new job, a new city. This was why she kept her relationships light and easy, because then someone came along and got under her skin -- Nina, Eden, Sawyer, Delta -- and that could be okay. That wasn't the problem. It was when she stopped having control. It was when they became someone she needed that it was a problem. She wasn't used to needing anything or anyone, she was used to being the one in charge.

Somehow, after several drinks, that seemed like something she needed to explain to someone. To Delta, maybe, because he'd done the same thing Sawyer had and she wanted to know if he was going to continue following his example.

Eleanor was probably asleep. She realized that as she pressed the buzzer, then braced herself against the wall, waiting for Delta to answer.

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It was good here, she thought. Even with Sawyer in Darrow, with Atlantis behind them, she liked being here. It wasn't a surprise, really, not a revelation, just a thought. "Yeah?" she asked, tilting her head up a little, brushing a kiss against Delta's chin. She'd come here for a reason, she thought, to ask him something, but now that she was here, she was feeling better.

"Maybe some tea would be nice," she decided.

Edited 2013-09-04 00:05 (UTC)

"I'll make some." He started to get up, then paused, his hand cupping her face. Suddenly he was very glad she had come to him, whatever the reason. He was glad she had thought that, feeling the way she did, he might be able to help.

"Come to the kitchen with me? We can talk some more, if you want to."

"I don't want to talk about Sawyer anymore," she said, touching his hand against her face, and she found it was the truth. Whatever happened, whether or not he remembered, she wasn't waiting for it. She'd never been the type of person to wait for something to happen, not when she had a life, not when she had things to do, things that made her happy.

It hurt that he didn't know her, ached in a way she hadn't known very often, but she could live with that.

She kissed Delta firmly, her hand cupping the back of his neck before she pulled back a little and smiled. "But I will come with you to the kitchen."

He leaned into the kiss, and that was the last thing that took all his uncertainty and bundled it away to where it couldn't bother him anymore, at least not for the moment. He smiled and took her hand.

The kitchen was small and he kept it very neat, a habit left over from the first strange experiences with organizing his own space. He released her to fill the kettle and grab two mugs from one of the cabinets.

"We don't have to talk about anything you don't want to. I'm glad you came to me, though."

Lily leaned against the counter, watching him for a moment, a faint smile curving the corners of her mouth. It was a little strange how much better she felt; still drunk, her reaction time slower, her thoughts a little fuzzy, but better all the same.

"You were good when I found his things," she answered, though that wasn't the only reason. She'd needed something from him, something he'd given her even if she hadn't outright asked for it. Somehow, he'd reassured her.

"Besides," she added, her smile growing. "When I get drunk, there's usually one thing I want in particular." And she hadn't gotten that from anyone else in a long time now.

He turned to look at her again, the stove on, and raised an eyebrow, still smiling. He wasn't always the best at picking up innuendo, but he thought maybe he was getting better at it. Though sometimes it was still hard to tell.

Regardless, if he was honest, he was happy to see her for more than a few self-interested reasons.

"Really? Should I guess?"

"You should definitely guess," Lily answered with a nod, pushing away from the counter so she could cross to where he was standing. She plucked at the front of his shirt gently, tilting her head as she looked up at him. She was glad she'd come here, happy to see him, happy to be standing here in his kitchen.

"I'll give you three chances," she said, sure it wouldn't take him nearly that many. "Then I'll just have to show you."

"I'll guess that it's not tea." He settled his hands on her hips, just looking at her. Even upset, even not entirely sober, she was still beautiful. He wondered if he might think she was beautiful in every state.

"But I'm not sure."

"I didn't come here specifically for tea," she agreed, both her hands coming to rest on his chest. "It's just a nice bonus that you're willing to make it for me." She hadn't come here specifically for sex either, which might have surprised her had she been a little more sober, but as it was, it just made sense.

"That counts as a guess, you know," she teased gently, poking his chest lightly with one finger.

He nodded, looking thoughtful. It felt good, playing like this. Lightening the heaviness that had followed her inside. "Is it talking? Did you come for talking?"

Which was funny, given his history with talking. He leaned in a little more, smelling alcohol and perfume and something under both of those that was perfectly, uniquely her.

"You know, I did come for a little talking," she agreed, pushing up onto her toes and brushing her lips against his cheek as she slipped both hands behind his neck. "But that wasn't quite what I was thinking either. Talking, tea, you know you only have one guess left."

He laughed against her cheek, and in a single easy motion he lifted her, turned and placed her on the counter. Sometimes he was still self-conscious about his size, his strength. Then at other times it was clearly an asset.

He slid between her legs, still smiling. "If you're going to show me, maybe I should turn off the stove."

Lily laughed when he lifted her and she hooked her foot around one of his legs, pressing another kiss to his cheek, then the line of his jaw. "Yeah, you probably should," she agreed, because she didn't want tea anymore. Her mouth moved down his jaw, against the skin just under his ear and she murmured, "We'll have tea later.

He let out a slow breath, not quite shivering as he reached over and turned off the burner. That done, he could turn his full attention to her, lips brushing hers but not quite kissing.

"We'll have to be quiet," he breathed. "Eleanor's sleeping."

"I can be very quiet," she whispered against his mouth, stroking the back of his neck lightly, her fingers toying with his hair. She could be just about anything he wanted, she thought, if it meant getting to be with him right now.

When she kissed him, it was slow, deep, and her eyes slipped closed easily. Sex wouldn't make everything better, it wouldn't make it easier and it wouldn't make Sawyer go away, but she wanted it all the same.

"Good," he managed before her mouth closed over his again. He wanted this too - had wanted it and not even really realized it. They should go to the bedroom, they should get these annoying clothes out of the way, but he couldn't quite move. It was always easy to get lost in tasting her, in how she smelled.

He slid a hand up her side and hesitated a moment before he cupped her breast through fabric, squeezing slightly.

A breathless sound escaped Lily at the touch of his hand, though she was careful to stay quiet, to muffle the sound against his lips. Sometimes all she wanted to do was get somewhere private, strip him down, but there was something she especially liked about this, making out in his kitchen, perched on the counter with him between her legs. This, she realized, was why she'd come here instead of going somewhere else, instead of tracking Sawyer down again. This was where she felt like herself.

She laughed softly, realizing she was still a little drunk, then pulled back a bit to smile at Delta. "We should go into your bedroom," she suggested. "I'm not sure Eleanor likes me enough yet to forgive catching us out here."

He echoed the laugh, one hand tangling in her hair. "I wonder if she would forgive me." He stepped back - not enough to separate them completely but enough to give her room to stand if she wanted to, and grinned, her eyes moving over her body with undisguised hunger.

Now he doesn't wonder what to do.

"Do you want to walk, or would you like me to carry you?"

"I don't know that anyone's ever given me the option before," she teases, hooking one leg around Delta's hip and then the other, pulling him close to her again. She can walk, she's far from too drunk for that, but there's something deeply appealing about how much bigger he is than her. She likes being reminded of it, likes letting him take over.

But then, what she's said isn't entirely true. She remembers Sawyer finding her that night in the jungle, carrying her home.

She pushes that away. She's here now, with Delta. "Think you can carry me without walking into anything?" she asks with a smile.

"I think I can." He slid one hand under her thigh, one around her waist. and it was really very easy to lift her up and carry her out of the kitchen, through the living room and toward the little hallway that led to his bedroom. Right outside Eleanor's door he almost stumbled and suppressed a laugh against the side of her throat, turning into his own room.

When he put her down on the bed he went down with her, already kissing her again, Why she was here, for the moment, didn't matter. What mattered was that she was. And now she was in his bed.

"Shhh," she hissed, trying not to laugh herself when he nearly stumbled. He carried her so easily, held onto her without a problem and when he put her down again, Lily wrapped her arms around him, kissing him in return, tugging him closer to her. Nothing had to be complicated, she realized. Everything could be easy, because this was easy, and she could ignore the things that were trying to push in, trying to make her think it was more difficult than it really was.

She kicked off her shoes, hearing them thump softly to the floor as her hands roamed down Delta's back and then up under the hem of his shirt, fingers spreading against his warm skin.

Now that they were on the bed, the clumsiness hadn't abated, but it was slower, a little more relaxed, and when he leaned back and pulled his shirt off over his head he didn't rush it. And some of it was that there wasn't any more worry that she wouldn't like what she saw. Scars and all.

He leaned in again, pushing a hand up under her own shirt, feeling the way the muscles of her belly trembled as he ran his fingers up her side.

"Tell me what you want," he breathed, and some of it was that he genuinely wanted to know, wanted to do whatever would please her - but some of it was the way it made him feel, to say that. Like he did have his own kind of power here.

"Oh, god," she murmured, watching him as he undressed, taking him in, the movement of his muscles, the stretch of his skin. He was absolutely gorgeous, something she'd known for a long time now and yet it felt like she was discovering it all over again every time she saw it.

And then he was speaking to her and she had to pull her attention away from the way he looked, the way his hand felt on her even as her teeth pressed down against her lower lip. "I just want you," she said, slipping her hands down his back, arching toward him. She kissed him again, long and slow, before she pulled away. "I want you to fuck me."

He let out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a groan and then lost himself in the complications of trying to help her remove her clothes without a break in kissing her. It was at once fast and too slow, not enough of her skin under his hands and more than he knew what to do with, and though he hadn't been drinking, he wondered if somehow some of the effects had bled off into him.

But it didn't matter. When he had her breast cupped in his hand, his other sliding around to the small of her back, nothing much mattered but that.

She tried to help him where she could, unhooking her bra, the button on her jeans, but mostly she was caught up in his touch, in the feel of his mouth on hers and his skin under her wandering fingers. He was here with her, no one else, and she couldn't remember the last time she'd been sure of that, the last time she'd known it with certainty.

"Delta," she breathed against his lips, trying to get him completely undressed, wanting to get to his skin, to everything.