[ Right now, things are quiet -- or as quiet as they can get in the warehouse, which is slightly less quiet than the B.P.R.D. used to be, but not as quiet as the house he'd left behind before he arrived in Duplicity. Ghosts don't make for noisy roommates. He hadn't realised how much he missed having people around him, how much he'd pulled away from it all. Pulled away from life, from living.
Now he's got it back again, it's getting harder every day to think about letting it go. The disappearances over the last few months -- Lorna, now Boomer -- have only served to remind him, over and over, of how brief this all can be. It's stuck in his head like a record on repeat. But some of the time he can ignore it and just enjoy the moment. Like now, waking up next to the woman he loves.
Harley's curled up warm and sweet against him, her breaths soft across his chest. He smiles to himself when she murmurs and pulls in even closer, encouraging her with his big hand slipping over her back, stroking her gently. The temptation to do more than that occurs to him. His dream has left him with a pretty insistent hard-on. He figures he can take care of it himself, though he also doesn't feel like getting up and leaving her behind. For a moment or two he's torn between the two choices, then he makes a decision and eases his hand off her, slipping it down between them instead so he can rub his palm over the ridge of his hard cock where he's tenting out the baggy sweatpants he's taken to wearing in bed, groaning softly in the back of his throat. ]
[ it's definitely not as loud here as it has been; harley can remember the number of afternoons she's been woken up to loud clattering from downstairs paired with boomer's swearing and bruce's excited yipping barks, all of it bundled up sometimes alongside hellboy's lowered rumblings that she can't quite make out until she peels herself out of their bed and shuffles her way downstairs. sometimes she's the first one up and had been able to listen to the rest of them waking up to come down to join her, especially if she'd been making another disastrous attempt at cooking breakfast.
she knows better than to push away who she's got after losing yet another friend — she's too dependent on people and needy for that attention to do something like that, but by contrast she runs the risk of becoming too clingy, overattaching herself to someone else because she's just that much more scared she's going to wake up to them gone too. she doesn't think she needs to tell hellboy that truth, though; he knows her well enough by now to recognize what she needs and when she needs it, when to hold her close and when to let her have the space.
right now, though, she wants to be held, wants to be immersed in him until there's no way for her to tell where she ends and he starts. it's a need that transcends consciousness, even, because it's not like she's fully awake for this, but maybe a part of her does stir back to awareness when he shifts against her, when the movement jostles her just enough to prompt movement behind her eyelids and she gives voice to a soft moan, stretching her smaller limbs out while she starts to discern the motion happening underneath her thigh. ] Baby need s'help with that?
[ The Professor didn't let him watch a lot of TV as a kid. Old-fashioned to the core, he used to say it would make Hellboy's eyes go square and there were so many more interesting things to do than stay inside and watch some silly shows. For the most part Hellboy listened to him, but occasionally, when the Professor was away on business, he would sneak into the lounge where the agents hung out on their downtime and watch reruns of I Love Lucy or The Honeymooners. There used to be a lot of jokes in those old sitcoms that he didn't get, usually about married life and not getting it in the bedroom any more. As he grew up, he took it as a given that being with someone meant getting bored after a while, which kind of made sense, though he never really had much of an opportunity to test it out. And he never thought he'd get to be married anyway.
Now he's with Harley and closer to that than he could have ever imagined. And it's been a pretty welcome to surprise to realise that not only is he not getting bored of being with her, if anything his interest and desire for her is getting stronger and deeper, every new thing they try out just making him want more. The idea of losing her, losing that connection with someone, is almost impossible to contemplate -- so he doesn't, not right now.
Instead, he leans down a bit so he can kiss the top of her head, stopping what he's doing for the moment. He knows she's been sleeping badly and feels a tinge of guilt for waking her. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. ]
It's okay, sweetie. I'm sorry, I just couldn't resist. Go back to sleep, baby.
[ harley's first response is to groan, weak and sleepy — not because she's annoyed about being woken up, especially when she doesn't want to miss out on anything. it's more of a groan that protests his words, his sentiment, his worry that somehow he's done something wrong by wanting to relieve himself when they're pressed this close together. if anything, she just wants him to wake her up so she can be a part of it somehow, even if he only ends up taking her hand and using it to jerk himself off — which feels like it'd only scratch the surface of the things they could be doing right here in this bed, out of all the things they've already done here together. (there's a reason they usually have to change the sheets more than once during the week, and it's not just because the cold weather means they have to switch to their flannel set.)
she's awake, but only just, and it's the kind of alertness that makes her want to nuzzle into him, press her face into his neck and lick the hollow of his throat — so she is gonna do some of that, leaving soft kisses against his skin with accompanying whimpers from her in the process, as she throws one arm across his middle beneath the blankets, her fingers spanning out wide across his back to feel the muscles shift beneath her hand as he shifts even the littlest amount. ]
Mm-mm. M'wake now. And you're gonna do somethin' about that. [ there's a smile in her voice, though, in the tension of cheeks as her lips pull back in a sleepy grin, and she still hasn't opened her eyes yet because she doesn't want to, because part of her wants to stay in this dreamlike state she's occupying, but that doesn't mean she can't enjoy herself — or at least encourage him in what he was already doing and find a way to involve herself more in it. ]
S'like Sleepin' Beauty. Maybe I need a kiss to break the spell. Or... maybe a lil' more'n that. [ this isn't a roleplay scenario they've tried out, surprisingly enough; in the mornings, when one of them reaches for the other, they're usually awake enough to be cognizant of what's going on, but her eyelids are so heavy right now that there's every chance she could fall back asleep in a matter of minutes, get pulled back under even while she's nibbling at the underside of his chin. ]
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Now he's got it back again, it's getting harder every day to think about letting it go. The disappearances over the last few months -- Lorna, now Boomer -- have only served to remind him, over and over, of how brief this all can be. It's stuck in his head like a record on repeat. But some of the time he can ignore it and just enjoy the moment. Like now, waking up next to the woman he loves.
Harley's curled up warm and sweet against him, her breaths soft across his chest. He smiles to himself when she murmurs and pulls in even closer, encouraging her with his big hand slipping over her back, stroking her gently. The temptation to do more than that occurs to him. His dream has left him with a pretty insistent hard-on. He figures he can take care of it himself, though he also doesn't feel like getting up and leaving her behind. For a moment or two he's torn between the two choices, then he makes a decision and eases his hand off her, slipping it down between them instead so he can rub his palm over the ridge of his hard cock where he's tenting out the baggy sweatpants he's taken to wearing in bed, groaning softly in the back of his throat. ]
no subject
she knows better than to push away who she's got after losing yet another friend — she's too dependent on people and needy for that attention to do something like that, but by contrast she runs the risk of becoming too clingy, overattaching herself to someone else because she's just that much more scared she's going to wake up to them gone too. she doesn't think she needs to tell hellboy that truth, though; he knows her well enough by now to recognize what she needs and when she needs it, when to hold her close and when to let her have the space.
right now, though, she wants to be held, wants to be immersed in him until there's no way for her to tell where she ends and he starts. it's a need that transcends consciousness, even, because it's not like she's fully awake for this, but maybe a part of her does stir back to awareness when he shifts against her, when the movement jostles her just enough to prompt movement behind her eyelids and she gives voice to a soft moan, stretching her smaller limbs out while she starts to discern the motion happening underneath her thigh. ] Baby need s'help with that?
no subject
Now he's with Harley and closer to that than he could have ever imagined. And it's been a pretty welcome to surprise to realise that not only is he not getting bored of being with her, if anything his interest and desire for her is getting stronger and deeper, every new thing they try out just making him want more. The idea of losing her, losing that connection with someone, is almost impossible to contemplate -- so he doesn't, not right now.
Instead, he leans down a bit so he can kiss the top of her head, stopping what he's doing for the moment. He knows she's been sleeping badly and feels a tinge of guilt for waking her. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. ]
It's okay, sweetie. I'm sorry, I just couldn't resist. Go back to sleep, baby.
no subject
she's awake, but only just, and it's the kind of alertness that makes her want to nuzzle into him, press her face into his neck and lick the hollow of his throat — so she is gonna do some of that, leaving soft kisses against his skin with accompanying whimpers from her in the process, as she throws one arm across his middle beneath the blankets, her fingers spanning out wide across his back to feel the muscles shift beneath her hand as he shifts even the littlest amount. ]
Mm-mm. M'wake now. And you're gonna do somethin' about that. [ there's a smile in her voice, though, in the tension of cheeks as her lips pull back in a sleepy grin, and she still hasn't opened her eyes yet because she doesn't want to, because part of her wants to stay in this dreamlike state she's occupying, but that doesn't mean she can't enjoy herself — or at least encourage him in what he was already doing and find a way to involve herself more in it. ]
S'like Sleepin' Beauty. Maybe I need a kiss to break the spell. Or... maybe a lil' more'n that. [ this isn't a roleplay scenario they've tried out, surprisingly enough; in the mornings, when one of them reaches for the other, they're usually awake enough to be cognizant of what's going on, but her eyelids are so heavy right now that there's every chance she could fall back asleep in a matter of minutes, get pulled back under even while she's nibbling at the underside of his chin. ]