( Don't think about the things you've left behind for this. This is how you get them back. It's not a mantra, just a feeling, a weight in the base of her spine, trying to keep the guilt away. This is the offer she was given - intimacy in exchange for the ability to keep Marc safe. She's just doing what she was told to, fulfilling a mission like any of them are. No worse than gritting her teeth and shooting the suspect who tries to knock Marc out in her presence, or holding back the trembling and panic mid-fight because she promised that they'd find their parents' murderers together.
She doesn't deserve for this to be the way she can stop being a failure, but it's what she's been given. Her feelings on the issue, ultimately, don't matter. Only results.
And right now, she's another step closer to that result, her mind given over to Will's hands on her hips, the press of fabric and fingertips against bones dragging out the roll of her hips down against him, slow and deliberate as her teeth graze his lower lip and her nails - short and un-maintained as they are - run a slow path across his throat. More a tease than anything else, small movements for the purpose of drawing things out even as hunger stirs deep in her belly, hot and heady - something she's wanted for long enough, thought about in drawn out silences when they feel just a bit too heavy, too tense to be normal. Something that almost seems to require savouring as it happens, as though doing otherwise will let it slip through her fingers. )
what a lovely way to go
She doesn't deserve for this to be the way she can stop being a failure, but it's what she's been given. Her feelings on the issue, ultimately, don't matter. Only results.
And right now, she's another step closer to that result, her mind given over to Will's hands on her hips, the press of fabric and fingertips against bones dragging out the roll of her hips down against him, slow and deliberate as her teeth graze his lower lip and her nails - short and un-maintained as they are - run a slow path across his throat. More a tease than anything else, small movements for the purpose of drawing things out even as hunger stirs deep in her belly, hot and heady - something she's wanted for long enough, thought about in drawn out silences when they feel just a bit too heavy, too tense to be normal. Something that almost seems to require savouring as it happens, as though doing otherwise will let it slip through her fingers. )