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All the other times they'd fucked, Revy had been drunk. So had he, actually, because sober, he had this niggling little voice telling him he was getting too attached, that the sex meant more to him that it did to Revy, that sleeping with her was a mistake because...
He never actually made it past because. He was afraid to even think it because Revy always seemed to know what he was thinking. And emotional entanglements were...not welcome in Roanapur. (Except the city was built on them. But nobody ever acknowledged all the emotions -- fear and greed and admiration and, yes, even love -- binding all the syndicates together. Because it was easier, and safer, to ignore it.)
But now, Revy was kissing him, one hand knotted in his tie, the other braced on the door. Her thigh was solid between his, her breasts firm against his chest, and she was nothing but muscle and reckless power, and his mind was heading towards that dangerous because. (Because she'd freed him, showed him what it meant to live, and oh, fuck, he sounded like a lovesick poet, and that trivialized what she did for him.)
"What's the matter?" Revy drew back.
"N-nothing."
"You're a piss-poor liar."
"Just taken aback."
She studied him for a moment. Her mouth curved into one of her wild smiles. Not one of her dangerous ones, not yet, but unsettling enough that Rock's pulse quickened a bit. "You're a fucking pansy, you know that?"
"Revy!"
She snorted and leaned in again to lick the line of his jaw. "Can't handle me unless you have a few shots of rum in you, can you, Mister Japanese?" She bit down on his earlobe.
"Hnng." He let his hands settle on her hips. "You usually match me drink for drink. What's stiffened up your spine?"
"Ha!" Revy's teeth worked his neck just below his ear. Rock tilted his head to give her better access. She'd leave a mark, but he didn't care. "Just don't feel like going to the Flag tonight. Figured we'd end up back here anyway."
"You're a piss-poor liar."
She drew back again. No smile now, and her blank expression was more unsettling than any of her manic grins. "Don't make too much out of this."
"You're --" His mouth was dry. He swallowed, and before Revy could cut in -- he knew that dark look well enough to head it off -- "You're you, and I'm me. We'll make our own things out of this."
"I mean it. You better not start following me around like some lovesick puppy."
He flashed her a quick, tentative smile. "I think it's a little late for that. At least according to half of Roanapur."
She stared at him for another beat, then barked out a quick laugh. "You better not go running to Eda to prove you're not." She pressed him back against the wall again and cupped him through his pants. "And you better not need a few drinks to get it up. I already told you, I don't feel like going to the Flag tonight."
She'd...either hurt him for asking or laugh. Bravado was always tricky with Revy, but it felt like the right response. "Feel like sucking it hard, then?"
She laughed. "No fucking chance."
He rocked up into her hand. "Can't...blame a man for trying." Bravado didn't suit him, and from Revy's small smile, he was trying too hard.
She hooked her fingers under the waistband of his slacks. "I may feel like jerking it hard," she said, and just as bravado didn't suit him, coyness didn't really suit her, but watching her flutter her lashes at him while she wore that hungry, predatory smile made something twist low in his belly.
"Yeah." His voice was hoarse. "I'd like that."
"Gonna ask me nice, Mister Japanese?" She worked loose the button of his slacks.
"Please Revy?" He slid one hand up to her neck. He let his fingers linger on her pulse point for a moment, took in her steady heartbeat. No spike, of course. It took a lot to get to Revy. He leaned forward, let his hand slip back to toy with the elastic securing her hair at the nape of her neck, and kissed her.
He was getting more aggressive. He didn't think he'd ever match her. She kissed with teeth and tongue, taking everything she wanted. Which really was Revy. She was bold and confident, a fighter. Why wouldn't she kiss like one?
She smiled, opened her mouth to him, and unzipped his fly. Her fingers were lean and strong, and God, it felt so good. He bit down on her lip. It earned him a little noise between a whimper and a chuckle, and then Revy broke their kiss.
"Yeah, like that." She reached between them and unzipped her shorts. The way she wiggled out of them made his mouth dry.
As always, he wanted to touch her. He stroked her hip. She caught his wrist, gave it one quick squeeze -- her regular warning. "That's as far as your hand goes, Rock," she had said the first time. And every time after, she'd taken the way he ran his thumb along the curve of her hip as his acceptance of her warning. (Were he given to armchair analysis, he'd say she didn't want to let anyone unwind her. She needed to keep control, needed to come on her terms, not because someone forced her to orgasm. But knowing Revy, his analysis would be incomplete, and he wouldn't do either of them any favors by trying to figure her out like that.)
She leaned up against him again. He had to shift to take her weight. She rose up, and he reached around to cup her ass as she positioned herself and guided him in.
"Oh God, Revy."
She was tight, and no matter how many times they did this, that first moment when he slid in -- dry, always dry, with Revy hissing and clenching around him until she made him slick -- made his breath hitch. For a moment, he couldn't breathe because it was too much. (It was almost painful, and afterwards, he always wondered how it felt for Revy, if the friction was worse or better for her. He'd never ask. It wasn't a safe topic.)
Her fingers dug into his shoulders. "Don't make too much out of this." She squeezed his hips with her thighs. Her knees bumped against the door behind them, and she rode him. "I like you Rock, but don't make too much out of this."
She arched against him. Her breasts brushed against his chest on each thrust, nipples straining against the thin black fabric of her shirt. "Just enough." He took a moment and tried to catch his breath. "I'll make just enough out of it."
"...the fuck does that mean?"
"It means...that I won't -- oh, God, Revy."
Her fingers tightened on his shoulders. "Shut up."
Like he could talk. Revy was too much. She was slick under his hands, sweat oiling her skin, and she smelled like her guns. Like her guns and musk, thick and heady and dangerous.
He came. Revy rode him through it, burying her head in the crook of his neck. She was mouthing something against his shirt collar. Rock didn't try to make sense of it.
Then she arched against him one last time and bit down on his collar. She shuddered around him, silent.
"Revy," he breathed.
She got her feet under her but didn't step back right away. "You're such a sap." She smiled into his neck, so quick and faint that Rock wondered if he imagined it.
He chose to believe he didn't. Which probably made him a sap, but he was all right with that. Revy deserved it.