somethingwithturquoise | MHA #4; Saturday Evening [03/11].

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MHA #4; Saturday Evening [03/11].

Having Annie back had been such a relief that Summer hadn't even really realized how much she'd been suppressing how worried she'd been until she didn't have to worry anymore, and the tension she'd been carrying on her shoulders got a whole lot lighter. And since it had been fairly early when she did come over, Summer was able to use that evening after she left to get some good ass sleep and woke up feeling...well, there was still a lingering trace of a hangover in there, but it was reduced to a dull murmur rather than the intrusive roar it had been yesterday.

And then she was thinking about the fact that her mere two glasses yesterday, bolstering her girl talk with ice cream instead, had barely put a dent in the amount of sangria she had made for last night's original plans, and then the remade plans with that guy from Tinder she'd been jerking around with rescheduling, and figured, fuck it, he was getting jerked around a little more and she canceled, with the promise to really make it up to him if he was willing to meet up on Monday instead.

Like, really make it up to him...

And, with that squared away, she felt a...slight moment of hesitation, before sending out another text:

u still have those cupcakes?

[[ for the recipient of said text, of course~ And it gets a little NSFW-y, who would have ever thouuuuuught?? ]]

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"Still you," Stark confirmed.

Eric had even offered last night, Summer!

"I'd always rather spend time with you."

He was looking too intently at her to notice her glass. At least the couch was very stain-resistant?

She'd gotten this couch for a reason.

Summer was quiet for a moment that wasn't really that long, but probably seemed to stretch for an eternity for the both of them, all things considered, before she asked, "Stark?"

Stark knew he probably ought to let go. He still hadn't. He was just gently holding her wrist and looking at her.

"Yes?"

The sangria, Summer reminded herself. If I really am getting this all wrong, I can always blame it on the sangria.

And the break-up, too. People did a lot of dumb shit after a break-up. Hell, she'd even thought about tracking down Hemorrhage at some point...

She licked her lips for a moment, because they felt impossibly dry all of a sudden and it was a shame her glass was all the way over there at this odd angle that she wasn't about to move from now, because, fuck, she could really use a drink of it right now. Her eyes dropped a moment toward Stark's lips, too, as if sort of planning something out before they lifted back up to his.

"Are you thinking," she finally asked, "about kissing me right now?"

"I..."

That was very direct, Summer.

"I shouldn't be. And I wouldn't. Ever. Unless..."

His voice trailed off and he just looked at her, not quite staring at her lips. He wasn't going to ask if she wanted him to. He didn't want her to say no.

And that was even more of a frustratingly dodgy-ass, spineless sort of entirely Stark answer that she almost wanted to solve her awkwardly-holding-my-wine problem by upending the entire glass over his head. She almost wanted to hold him accountable for that I wouldn't. Ever.. But she didn't really wanted to test the integrity of the stain-resistance of her couch and she was way too vulnerable right now to want to think too much on the implications of what he meant by that I wouldn't. Ever.

But what she actually did was let out a frustrated sound somewhere between a grunt and a groan, closed her eyes, pressed herself into him a little bit more for good measure, and murmured out, "Just fucking do it already, you fucking coward."

Edited 2023-03-11 23:54 (UTC)

He had only meant that he would never even consider trying something if he weren't absolutely certain that was what she wanted.

He was, right now, certain she did.

"Do this?" he whispered before leaning in to gently, so gently, press his lips against hers.

Definitely could stand to work on his phrasing around someone who was really struggling to come to terms with the weight of feeling so utterly unwanted in the wake if ending her relationship, but, clearly, tgat wasn't the only thing he could be working on.

"Like you fucking mean it, Stark."

Just ignore the soft sound that escaped and the way her body seemed to melt against his once their lips touched.

"I promise you I mean it," he murmured against her lips.

He didn't want to spill any wine but he wanted to kiss her more. He let go of her wrist only to move that hand to the back of her head so he could prove he meant it with a much more thorough kiss. He was very eager to prove he meant it.

Summer would grant to him that the sangria did present a challenge in really being able to reach that bar, and she had every intention of fixing that particular obstacle very soon, but at the moment, Stark was doing very well with what he had to work with, and she certainly wasn't going let that go unrewarded. And every time she thought she would break away to take care of it, she found herself just digging back in for more, her own free hand supporting her by resting against his chest, but briefly, before her fingers went clinging to his shirt.

A soft, pleased noise escaped Stark's throat and he let his hand drift down to her back so he could press her closer to him.

His grip on the sangria glass was becoming increasingly tenous but his grip on Summer was very solid.

"Wait, wait, wait," said Summer, flattening her hand against Stark's chest again as she pushed herself away, just a little, both from Stark's firm hold on her and from not really wanting to, but at this point, the sangria was far more of a hinderance than stopping was. "Hold on."

With that, Summer made for another reach for Stark's glass with her free hand, took a moment to chug down whatever was left in her glass in about three gulps before leaning away (using that hand on her back for some great leverage) to set the glasses on the coffee table.

And look at that! Now she had both hands, and they didn't even spill a drop.

Well, maybe a few drops. Not that you could tell, because the couch was doing its job.

"Okay," she breathed out, "better."

So she was going to make the most of having both her hands to cradle Stark's face between them as she went to kiss him again.

Stark had made a noise of protest when Summer pushed back, worried that somehow he'd done something wrong.

When she returned to her original position (perhaps an even better one) he relaxed. "Much better," he agreed before returning that kiss, even daring a tiny nip at her bottom lip.

His hand on her back bunched in the fabric of her top and his newly empty hand went immediately to her hair.

It was definitely a better position, and that nip on her bottom lip inspired both a smirk. "So much better," she murmured. Her hands moved away from his face, one drifting down to his shoulder, clinging onto it tightly as she pushed herself even closer, the other sliding to find the back of his neck to help her with deepening that kiss as she returned to it with earnest.

Stark was very tempted, at this point, to try and pull Summer into his lap. Instead he let go of her shirt so his hand could drift a little lower and slide up under the hem of the shirt. Touching more skin was definitely a good choice.

He wasn't planning on breaking off the kiss any time soon.

With the brush of Stark's finger against her back, Summer let out a small gasp, interrupting the kiss briefly, but she returned to it quickly with a low, appreciative groan. And, not one to let him have all the skin touching fun, her hand on Stark's shoulder dropped down along his torso, until it reached his waist, where it worked its way underneath his first so it could find his stomach.

And, boy, would this be a helluva time to find out if Stark was ticklish.

Stark was not ticklish, at least not there. He responded by sliding his hand farther up her back and burying his other hand further into her hair and softly groaning out her name.

"Mmmm." At the sound of her name, Summer hummed softly against Stark's lips and shifted a little, just enough to better accommodate to these roving hands, and if she just so happened to have pressed her chest against Stark's a little more than necessary in the process, then, oh well. Couldn't have been helped.

"Stark," she said his name in return, grinning as she pulled back from the kiss, enough to grin at him, enough to look him in the eye, her fingers at the nape of his neck moving in circles, playing at the strap there. "How long have you been wanting to do this for? Be honest."

"Too long, Summer," Stark said a little breathlessly. He did enjoy people playing with that strap and he very much enjoyed Summer being this close and he let his hand fall from her hair so it could slide under her shirt with the other. "Too long. I just...I didn't think..."

He didn't think it would ever happen except in the case of something like mistletoe. He'd very much enjoyed the mistletoe in December.

There was another soft, approving hum and an incredibly pleased smiled spread across Summer's face. "That's a good answer," she said, and a good answer like that needed to be rewarded with another long, deep kiss that was definitely taking its time before she pulled away again, catching his eye again to look at him intensely, imploringly.

"Promise not to be weird about this later," there was another kiss, to make the request hopefully a little more palatable, "okay?"

A tall order, probably, she knew, but she felt she had to at least throw it out there.

He wasn't being very weird around Gladio but he was definitely leaning toward the weird end of things with Raiden and Eric. He would definitely be weird at Margo.

But what if he got weird about it now in a fun way?

"I'll try. I promise I'll try."

Was now a good time to try and pull her into his lap? He was going to try that after sliding his hands to her hips.

Summer let herself be pulled, shifting and adjusting until she was straddling Stark's lap; at some point, her other hand had made the trek back up, so that both of them were now resting against the back of his neck, as she squinted her eyes, somewhat skeptically, at him for a moment.

"....good enough," she finally decided, after probably far too long, but her hands dropped away from Stark's neck to the hem of her shirt, so she could pull it up, pull it off and toss it aside as she went in to kiss him again, while her hands went pawing around to do the same to his shirt.

"Are you sure?" Stark asked between kisses, leaning forward and raising his arms to assist with shirt removal and staring at her not at all respectfully.

Sure that trying was enough, sure she wanted to remove clothing, sure she wanted to be doing any of this?

Summer's first impulse was to give a resounding no, not even a little, with a laugh and a fuck it, anyway, but she took a moment, once she cleared Stark's shirt away and tossed it aside, to run her hands down his chest and really reminded herself who it was she was straddling right now.

"I'm sure," she said, smiling faintly, and kissing him before he had a chance to protest or argue or for her to change her mind.

It was a good thing she reigned in that impulse. Might have been a little bit of a mood killer.

"So am I," he said firmly. "Very sure."

Even if he couldn't quite believe it was happening. He ran his hands up her sides, just brushing his fingers gently along the newly bared skin without breaking off the latest kiss.

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MHA #4; Saturday Evening [03/11].

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