tampered | I know what I want but I just don’t know

I know what I want but I just don’t know

When; Saturday afternoon/evening
Rating; ~~Prolly an~~ R, there's drinking, talking of death, ~~probably~~ definitely fooling around.
Characters;

bladed_siberian and

cry_reaper
Summary; Mara and Ken drown their frustrations with their memories, the police, and dwell on the fact that drowning their sorrows isn't going to help.
Log;

Mara was trying to relax, but now that she'd remembered she was afraid all over again. What if he came after her again, what if the police couldn't prove it was him and he went free?

She curled on the couch, drinking, waiting for Ken to come by. He really was the only person who could understand what she was going through these days.

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".. you need to find someone you can trust to be that close."

He's watching her now, dark eyes hooded and his smile gone soft.

She's looking down, not really paying attention to him.

"Something like that I guess."

Without thinking, he reaches over and slides his fingers along her hair, pausing to brush some of it away from her face.

"You don't have anyone you trust anymore?"

She sighs and leans into the touch, it's nice, comforting.

"No one I'm sleeping with."

She'd trusted Dorian, it hadn't gone well.

He leaned a little closer, his fingers tracing along her cheek.

"Maybe you could ask them, then."

It's instinct, she nuzzles his palm, pressing a soft kiss to it.

"Ask... someone like you?" She gives him a wicked little grin. "Thought you preferred male company..?"

Ken feels his cheeks warm a tiny bit, but thankfully, he can pass that off on the fact that he's drinking. With a soft chuckle, he sweeps his thumb along her bottom lip.

"... I guess I'm bi, technically. I've always liked girls, but Mamoru was the only man I've ever wanted to be with. Mamoru was just... Mamoru. Besides... I've only been with two people... "

His voice is soft, low with the admission.

She reaches out with her own hand, running her own thumb over his jaw, leaning forward a bit.

"Nothing wrong with that, Ken."

Her hand trails down his neck a bit, she's almost shy about it, but she continues, whispering, "Were you thinking of going for three?"

He unconsciously leans into the touch, his head tipping back a tiny bit.

"I won't lie and say I haven't thought about it."

She's surprised that the blood rises to her cheeks, she thought she was long past blushing over these things, but there you have it. Still, she smiles a little wider and draws a finger down his chest.

"I wouldn't say no, if you want. Maybe I can trust you enough..."

His hand moves to curl around her finger, pulling her hand away from his chest. Absently licking his lips, he pulls her hand to his lips before he drops a slow kiss to her fingertip.

"Counts on what you want, Mara."

Her eyes close, focusing only on that feeling. Wary of the fear that always seems to grip her with others.

"I want to feel. If I can be warm, if I can't have a heartbeat, I want to feel something again Ken, and I..."

Her eyes open again, looking up through her lashes. "I think I want you."

He watches her in silence for a long moment, then leans in ti nip at her fingertip before he slides his grip down to her wrist.

"I think I want you, too."

Mara takes the bottle of alcohol and after a final swig, she sets it on the table, out of the way so she can slide up next to Ken. The burn down her throat matches the burn on her cool cheek as she leans in, lips close to his ear.

With her free hand resting on his leg she whispers, "Shall we, then?"

It only takes a moment before he turns his head enough to catch her lips with his own, the contact light and teasing. His hand pulls hers to flatten over his chest.

She smiles against his warm lips, deepening the kiss a little, not wanting to push him, but wanting more. The hand on his leg moves up to his hip, gentle, teasing the edge of his shirt and the one on his chest curls a little, fingertips pressing in as she sighs.

He can't help but smile back before he lets his tongue trace along her lips, his hands moving to tug her against him. It's the first time since Mamoru left that he's felt the slow heat starting to curl under his skin, and while some of that might be from the alcohol, he knows that's not what's really causing it.

Oh, Gods that was better. She's very eager to move closer, and choosing boldness she swings a leg over his, almost sliding onto his lap as she opens her mouth to his, inviting him in.

This isn't like Dorian all smooth words and sharp edges, this is warmth, this is... trust. And the comfort in that makes her relax for the first time in weeks.

That's all it takes. Groaning softly, he wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her all the way on his lap, just as eager and willing to take her invitation.

Of all the people in the City, Mara's the one person that understands what Ken's going through. She believes him and trusts him and that's just as heady as the heat building between them.

Mara almost growls as he pulls her over, her hand burying itself in his hair as she loses her self in the kiss. In the feel of his body next to hers.

The other hand starts to pull up his shirt, her cool hand dancing over his warm skin. Realizing that it might be a shock, she pulls away with a slight gasp.

"Sorry."

Without pause, he grabs her hand and pulls it up to press a kiss to her palm even as he wriggles and slumps down even more into the couch.

"For what? It's kinda cool... well. Not like that... "

He chuckles softly, realizing he sounds like a dork.

She doesn't think he's a dork, she barely even realizes the joke. She leans in tentatively and presses her forehead to his.

"You don't mind? That I'm not warm?"

His curls his palms over her cheeks, smiling faintly up at her before he closes his eyes.

"Not a bit."

She whispers a soft appreciation against his lips before kissing him again, tasting the alcohol on his mouth, hands traveling back to tug at the hem of his shirt. She tries to be gentle, wary of the injuries he's received, but she's starting to fight an instinct that's screaming for more, faster, and she can't help the slight groan that escapes as she pulls the fabric upwards.

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I know what I want but I just don’t know

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