losttheright | I, I wanna get myself back

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j. daniel atlas

I, I wanna get myself back

It isn't, strictly speaking, that Molly is nervous. There's no reason for her to be. With as many times as she's done this sort of thing in the past, it's second-nature, even now. Maybe especially now, with as long as she had to wait to be able to do this in the first place, weeks of having to take such care of the injuries done to her face and being too self-conscious to want to do much of anything at all. Now, though, finally given the clear and told her nose is healed, she's more than fucking ready to start getting things back to normal again. She hasn't felt like herself since the attack. It's about damn time she got a chance to.

Of course, she'll never be entirely free of it. There are and always will be a few scars from the nails she was shot with, a fainter one along the bottom of her lower lip. She can look at herself in the mirror, though, without cringing at what she sees, and the bruising's faded from her face and around her neck, and it's enough. Hell, it's the most she can fucking ask for, and she's alright with that. At least she's still here at all. Besides, Daniel isn't some stranger. All of those would know who she is now anyway, and would probably make it more than a little awkward. Daniel, though, is a friend, she thinks, and he's someone she's slept with before, and he's seen her when she looked just about her worst. It's her best possible option. Besides, experience tells her that it will definitely be worth it. God knows when she's had to wait this long, she'd hate to settle for someone who didn't really know what they were doing.

That he's agreed to her very straightforward invitation just makes her all the more convinced that this is the right call. Even so, as she waits for him to arrive, she can't help but notice that her heart is beating just a little harder than it ought to. After all this time, though, that isn't exactly a surprise, so she doesn't dwell on it, even brightens when she hears someone buzz her apartment, going over to the intercom. "Yeah?"

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For just a fleeting instant, Molly almost freezes when he starts pulling her shirt up. It's not that she's worried, that she doesn't trust him — she does, at least inasmuch as she has to — but rather that she's self-conscious in a way she's never had to be before. Even healed, she doesn't look quite the way she used to with her shirt off, bearing several faint scars from the nail gun used on her. The whole point, though, is not to let that stop her. He knows what happened to her, the entire fucking city does, and it's not as if it's enough to get in the way. She lets go of him just long enough to cast her shirt aside, not especially concerned with where it lands, eager to have his hands on more than just her waist.

It's not like Danny's looking closely anyway, not yet, more intent on kissing her, his hand splayed across her ribs as he stops in her doorway. He unfastens her bra easily enough, hand sliding up to cup her breast as he backs her towards the doorframe. He'd been a little worried on his way over, his usual confidence just a little bit dimmed in the face of what he knows. He cares about her, he honestly does, and the last thing he wants is to fuck this up. It's not even about the sex. There are other women in Darrow, and though Molly's good and a sure thing, both definite checks in her favor, he'd get on fine if they weren't sleeping together. With what she's already been through, though, he doesn't want to hurt her, and it isn't something he's used to having to think about.

His hand feels good against her skin, warm and gentle, her heart beating hard underneath it. Though Molly hates the idea of being thought of as fragile, someone a person would need to be careful with, she knows what she needs from this, and there's no sense in ignoring it. Anything past this, rushing forward or more insistence, she knows has every chance of not going well, no matter how wholeheartedly she throws herself into it. The point is to feel normal, anyway, and after so long, she really wants to enjoy herself. Dropping her bra to the floor, she lets him guide her back, what might be more of a show of trust than her inviting him here in the first place, still kissing him all the while.

His hands wander indiscriminately as they move, rediscovering the curves and flats of her body, the way her waist dips beneath his fingertips. It's been a while, and though Danny doesn't really have to worry about whether or not he's going to get laid if he wants it, it's still nice to be back with Molly. There aren't many women in his life who've been more than one night stands, and there's something pleasant about the familiarity they have. When he draws back, it's to kiss her shoulder, then her neck.

With his mouth on her neck, Molly lets her head tip to the side, easily falling back on old instincts. She's out of practice now, but the effects of that, she's sure, are more in her own head than anything else; just because it's been a couple of months doesn't mean she has any less idea what she's doing. It's just a matter of getting her own back, as it were, of feeling comfortable in her own skin again. He's never given her cause to feel any differently, though, and she's counting on that now. She figures she ought to make the most of it, too, reaching between them to undo his belt.

Danny smiles against her skin, hand moving to her ass as he sucks at her throat, though it's hard to resist the urge to ask her to keep moving, to suggest they take this to the bed. This has to go at her pace, and anyway, it's easier to undress this way.

Tugging his belt out of its loops once she's finished with the buckle, something that she's not so unpracticed that she can't make quick work of, Molly doesn't try to hide the sound that catches in her throat, soft and wanting. This much might be easy, more so even than she would have expected, but that isn't going to stop her from enjoying it. "Come on," she says after a moment, undoing the button and zipper on his pants. "Should get in bed."

"Okay," Danny says, nodding as he starts back toward the bed, still holding onto her. She doesn't need to say it more than once at a time like this. He struggles a little sliding his pants down and leaving them on the floor, distracted as he is, but it doesn't take too long to deal with. As they move, he reaches to undo her jeans in turn. "I'm... definitely in favor of that."

"Yeah, I should hope so," Molly says wryly, letting out a faint laugh against his mouth. It's not like that's any kind of a surprise, of course, when they came into the bedroom for a reason, when he came to her apartment in the first place knowing full well what was going to happen. Still, it's not like she minds hearing it, all the more so for the way it keeps the mood light, something she thinks she needs right about now. "Not like there's anything wrong with anywhere else, but..."

"Oh, well, there's always later," Danny says. "I like the bed." Variety is great, but some things are classic for a reason, and he figures she'll be more comfortable there. It's strange to be thinking about this so intently, to be focused on her comfort as a main goal rather than a simple necessity to be checked off the list, but it's probably for the best. It forces him to go a little slower, be a little more cautious, and he'd rather annoy her into telling him off than upset her.

"I never would have guessed," Molly says, biting back a laugh. She thinks she would have known already if he didn't, and anyway, he's right. There's no reason why they can't move somewhere else later. For now, the bed seems like the best option, the simplest, the most convenient for taking her time and working her way up to this. It's not like, after all this time, she expects it to be like nothing's happened. Still, it's an old habit, and one she's eager to get back to. Any nervousness, she assumes, will subside once she does. "But good."

"Well, if you don't know what I like by now," Danny says wryly. Not that there isn't plenty else to learn, he's sure. Probably, at least. It's not like he's had a lot of experience with relationships — not to say this is one, but there's a similarity with regards to longevity, if nothing else — but that is allegedly part of the fun of them, always learning something new about someone you care about. As far as he can tell, that's incredibly rare, and people are not nearly as mysterious as they'd like to imagine themselves to be, and nuance may be all well and good, but there's something to be said for keeping it simple.

"Exactly," Molly says, one corner of her mouth hitching a little higher than the other. She's glad it's him that she asked here, she thinks, not for the first time. It's not like there's anyone she knows currently for whom it would have seemed like too much, so that's not an issue, though it's always a plus, but she likes him, inasmuch as she likes anyone she's with. Already knowing him somewhat well, having done this before, it helps, especially when it already feels like her heart is trying to beat its way out of her chest. The ease she feels around him ought to translate elsewhere. Still heading towards the bed, she adds, mostly teasing, "But that's not an issue."

"No, you know, it's nice, actually," Danny says, hands smoothing slowly over her waist, tracing the soft curves there. "It's not easy to meet a girl you can get along with and... have something with and she understands that's what it is, and everyone can just be friends and get along instead of trying to turn it into something dramatic and messy." He's known way too many girls who clearly wanted a hell of a lot more than he has to offer. They like the idea of his passion for his craft, he knows, until they realize he's not about to redirect it onto them.

"Exactly," Molly says, kissing him softly for it, the kind of affection she can spare simply because of what he's just said. It's one of the things she's liked most about him since they first started sleeping together (that, and those absolutely incredible hands of his), that they can have this be an ongoing thing and be friends and not need to worry about any more than that. Now more than ever, she isn't looking for anything, and she's had too much wanted of her too many times. Something like this, it beats just sex and it beats worrying about feelings getting in the way. She's got enough to worry about as it is. "Dramatic and messy is really fucking overrated."

"You're telling me," Danny says dryly. "I prefer dramatic and neat." He flashes her a wry grin, hands sliding down to cup her ass, pulling her closer against him. He'd rather leave the former for the stage, anyway, and he's sure she knows that. Off-stage, in direct conversation, it's easier and better to be blunt, to keep things clean and simple. He's not going to get on well with a woman who doesn't understand that.

"Yeah, you would," Molly says, wry in turn, a fond sort of teasing in her voice. "I'll leave the drama for you, then." She knows what he means, of course, but still, while she likes to keep things fun, interesting, she thinks she's had enough drama to last her more than one lifetime. This, meanwhile, is refreshingly simple, what would have been appealing even if she didn't already know she was attracted to him. As it is, there's a faint groan, barely more than a breath, in her throat as he pulls her closer, heart hammering in her chest.

He's more than capable of that when he wants to be, but for now, Danny isn't thinking about it. That this is simple, easy, is the appeal of the arrangement. Well, that and Molly herself, but he wouldn't be here if he were expecting drama out of this. Instead, he gets the familiarity of the soft sounds she makes and her body against his as he leans in to kiss her, maneuvering her back towards the bed.

No matter how long it's been, Molly's done this enough that stepping blindly back towards her bed is easy, instinctive, not requiring too much attention on her part. There's nothing she'll trip over, no real chance of her miscalculating the distance. Hell, she trusts him enough not to worry about that, what's kind of the point of all of this in the first place, the reason it's him here and not someone else. Even then, it still leaves her with enough else to focus on, like trying not to think about why that's so important and instead just how good it feels to be doing this in the first place. It isn't quite like coming back to herself, not like she'd hoped, but given that, not long ago, she wouldn't have even been physically capable of this, it's a fucking good start.

When they reach the bed he stops, though Danny resists the urge to pick her up or pull her down with him. This is still about her rules, her choices, he gets that. He just has to remind himself again, since it's not like she would usually mind if he took the lead. Instead he kisses her neck, her shoulder, hands smoothing over her waist to her breasts, enjoying the simpler things for the moment.

It feels damn good, the way he touches her, especially with all the time that's passed since she could last do this. It's for the same reason, Molly thinks, that she's still short of breath, heart lodged in her throat. Really, it makes sense. This used to be the sort of situation she was most comfortable in, and she's expecting it to be again, but her life's been pretty well upended since that happened, so it's only reasonable that it might not be immediate. She sees no reason to think too much of it, a hand curling around the back of his neck, drawing him with her as she eases down onto the bed.

Edited 2014-01-16 07:18 (UTC)

Even in Darrow, where he's still building his reputation, it's not like Danny has trouble picking up women. It's not as if Molly's the kind of girl to withhold or play coy, either, but she's hot and she's smart and he knows from experience how good she is, so it's still kind of an ego boost, especially in the current situation. He's not really someone who sees a lot of signs of trust. He's not gonna go out of his way to build it, but he has to admit, he likes it. Smirking against her skin, he kisses her throat, a hand sprawled against her ribs, the other holding him up.

This time, when her heart stutters in her chest and she draws in a breath through her teeth, it's not quite the same, and it's the strangest fucking thing. He's kissing her, and there's little she wants more than to have him continue, to lose herself in fucking him the way she knows she should be able to, but it's like her mind and her body are at odds, what's recognizable now as panic tightening her chest. If she stopped to think about it, she might even find it understandable. Neither stopping nor thinking is something she has much interest in, though, nor is letting some physical instinct hold her back now. Head tipping to the side, she curls her fingers in his hair, trying to will any nervousness away.

It's encouraging enough a gesture that Danny presses on, hand wandering over her skin as he sucks gently at her throat. It's been far too long since the last time he was with Molly, and though he gets it, he's also intent on making up for lost time. He can't undo anything that was done to her, but he can give her some nicer memories, at least. Thumb brushing over her nipple, he teases at it as he kisses lower.

It's a strange thing, being so self-conscious of the way she looks. Molly isn't used to that, has only ever been confident about her body, even — maybe especially — when it comes to sex. Now, though, it's scarred in ways it hasn't been before, and it's impossible not to think about that, to think about having a nail gun pressed against her throat and below her collarbone, as his mouth moves lower. It would be easier if she didn't have to think at all, but that's not an option, not yet. There's not much else for her to do, lying here like this, except let him keep going, half-convinced she needs him to.

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