and after the bombs subside

[thelongdormantcop]

For a long time, Jerry has considered himself lucky. It isn't like his life has been as easy as all that — if anything, it's the exact opposite — but that, he thinks, is all the more reason to. He's made it through shit a lot of people haven't, before and during and after the war, a childhood spent barely knowing if there'd even be enough to eat and time overseas marked by too many close calls to count, things he tries to bury as much as possible. Even then, he's a lot better off than others. He knows too many guys who got killed over there, even more still who came home and ate their guns, or who went looking for trouble just so somebody else would end it, or who spent even more time looking for answers at the bottom of bottles than he did, drinking to try to forget it all instead of just to cope. Besides, it isn't just the war that set him off; it was what he came back to. Too many others never came back at all, either physically or mentally.

Showing up here has given him a good deal of distance from all of that, anyway. At least, that's what he thought, that he'd never be rid of it but that it was farther away, not just the past but history. Besides, he's learned to deal with it. Maybe his way of doing so involves a hell of a lot of not dealing, but it beats most of the other alternatives. The same goes for the other war, the one he'd walked away from fighting the night he showed up here. Though aspects of it are always present, it's easier to keep all of that pushed aside, to focus on the fact that, from here, he won. He's safe and so is Grace, and there's no one here who would do him any harm. If that means not letting himself think about Keeler or Jack or Connie O'Mara or all the innocent lives lost when they got something wrong, everything that went to hell that last night, then he's alright with that. There's enough else here that needs his attention anyway. Dwelling on the past would accomplish nothing.

That is, maybe, all the more reason why, when he walks right into it, it catches him by surprise. Heading through the park on his way back to his apartment, wrapped in a heavy coat to combat the snow, he hears it first, the faint sound of explosions making him more uneasy than he cares to admit to. There could be any number of reasons for it, but it could be trouble, too, which is, maybe, why he heads in that direction, aware of his gun in his holster, though he doesn't reach for it. He isn't on duty, but shit like this is why he stays armed anyway, so he'll be ready if he needs to be.

It isn't any sort of trouble he finds, though, but a festival of some sort, booths crowded with people who look plenty happy to be there. He doesn't really see them, though. His gaze fixes instead on the red paper lanterns strung overhead, a too-familiar sight even with the snow coating the ground, and with the sound of firecrackers ringing in his ears, he finds that it makes his head spin, his chest tighten. It's all he can do not to pull his gun out after all, though he knows there's nothing happening here. He can still see it, the bodies littering the ground because they walked into a setup, because he wasn't there in time to stop it, because they failed.

He doesn't know how long it takes to get back to his apartment; he doesn't really remember walking there at all until he's by his door, fumbling for a key so he can get the door unlocked, letting it slam shut again behind him. There's nothing happening and none of that's followed him here, but he feels like he's still back in Chinatown anyway, hands shaking as he lights himself a cigarette. It doesn't calm his nerves like he wishes it would, making him no less unsteady when he goes to the kitchen to pour himself a much-needed drink. They're the only ways he's got to battle this, an old habit founded mostly in the days when he first got back from the Pacific, more fucked in the head than he wanted to tell anyone, something that's just as true now. He just needs to remember how to breathe again and he'll be just fine, even if just a couple sips of scotch leave him doubled over his kitchen sink, thinking he's about to be sick. At least he isn't, though, the one thing this has over the last war he was left with memories of being in. It isn't much of a reassurance.

Comments

[thelongdormantcop]

The way she feels around him almost overwhelming, it's a moment before Jerry can speak, or even move, for that matter. Once he does, though, he doesn't have it in him to hold back, both hands gripping her ass as he rocks hard into her, over and over. This doesn't change what happened earlier, he's not deluded enough to think so, and it doesn't make up for his leaving her waiting, and it sure as hell isn't just to keep it all at bay for a while, but God knows it helps. In a way, he thinks, he's needed this, needed her. He just wouldn't know how to say so without it sounding wrong. Instead, he just kisses her hard, gasping when he draws back. "Fuck, Grace."

[neverfor]

In this position, kissing him isn't as simple as it usually is, a lot messier, a little more teeth involved, clashing together. Grace couldn't care less, pulling him back for another kiss once she's got a good breath, though she can't keep it up for long, forehead against his, gasping and moaning open-mouthed, eyes closed tight, fingers digging into his shoulders. She doesn't notice she's doing so, though, too wrapped up in him for that, her body tense with need. There's nothing like this, never has been, never anyone who said her name like that, made her feel like the sparks shaking through her came as much from the sound of his voice as the way he moves inside her.

[thelongdormantcop]

Jerry, at least, isn't concerned at all about the lack of precision inherent in this. If it's a little off-center when he kisses her, if he has to press her back against the wall a little harder to readjust his hold on her and make sure he doesn't drop her, it matters a hell of a lot less than how good she feels, everything brought down to just simple desire, raw and unrefined. Since he met her, he's always exercised some measure of caution with her, but that doesn't mean he's just going to go slow and take his time, either, not least when she's so responsive. He doesn't stop, not for a second, ducking his head to press a kiss to her jaw.

[neverfor]

"Jerry," Grace says, encouragement and endearment all in one breath, her head tipped back against the wall to give him a better angle to work with, to let her feel his mouth on her skin, one more point of connection in a puzzle she's lost track of. It isn't an easy position to maintain, least of all when she has so little control over it, but she doesn't care. She likes being entirely in his hands, like the angle and how deep he gets and the way he wants her too much to wait for it. She's always wanted something like this, she thinks, since before she was old enough to want it in this way, longed to be the center of someone's world, to know that she's the only thing that matters. He's all there is for her, anyway, and she doesn't consider he might not feel the same way; it's too evident to her that he does. "Oh, God, yes, yes."

[thelongdormantcop]

Reduced to a lack of coherency himself, Jerry can't do anything but groan in response, the sound muffled against her skin where he sucks at it. As with every position, there are, of course, downsides to this — he can't do much in the way of touching her, can't draw this out, can't savor it — but none of those matter much to him right now. Besides, this is as close as he lets himself get to reckless abandon with her, and knowing that it doesn't make a difference if he leaves any sign of this behind, marks from his fingers on the backs of her thighs or from his mouth on her throat, is a turn-on in its own right. "Grace," he gasps, lifting his head again, kissing her hard. "Fuck."

[neverfor]

With her eyes shut tight, Grace sees only lights, color, a visual echo of the electricity jolting through her body with every roll of his hips, enough to feel like she could drown in it, already gasping for air. Later, there will be time later for soft, gentle, for dragging everything out. For now, she finds herself chasing the end, rocking desperately with him. Even when he's fucking her hard, he's sweeter by a mile than any other lover she's had. It makes a real difference, knowing how much he cares, that she's not some means to an end, that he's never left her anything less than blissfully satisfied. If anything, that makes her like this that much more, a hand sliding up into his hair, holding him close.

[thelongdormantcop]

There's no way in hell this is going to last long. Jerry's known that from the start, though, and he thinks she must have, too, if only because it's been pretty fucking apparent. Later, he can make it up to her, having kept her waiting the way he did. For now, he's nothing but lost in her, too desperate to stop and think about taking his time, even if he'd never be anything but careful with her. This takes more energy than drawing it out would require, anyway. Still holding onto her firmly, not wanting even to come close to dropping her, he stifles a strangled sound against her mouth, not stopping for a second.

[neverfor]

How it's possible to be so content in the middle of all of this, Grace doesn't know, but she's sure she is. Being with him like this, not worrying about what comes next or when she'll leave or how hard his fingers press against her skin and the marks she'll probably find there later, nothing in the world but the way he moves inside her, it's nothing short of bliss. "Oh, fuck," she moans, nails digging into his back, and she knows she doesn't have much longer, but she doesn't care.

[thelongdormantcop]

Groaning when her nails press into his skin, Jerry sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth after, still thrusting insistently into her, hard and fast and no less desperate for having gotten this. "Grace, Grace," he says, barely aware of doing so. "Fuck, I'm pretty close." It won't be much in the way of a warning, he's sure of that, but he figures he should at least give her some sort of warning so she can tell him if she needs him to do anything else for her. He hasn't got much energy to spare right now, but to make sure she gets off, he will.

[neverfor]

Grace nods so he'll know she understands, though she's half-blind as it is, dipping her head to kiss his shoulder. She doubts that she'll be able to finish before he does, but right now, she doesn't care. That's simply the luck of the draw sometimes, though much less so with him than she's known with others, and she feels so good anyway. Tonight is about him, and there will always be time for more later. She intends to see he enjoys himself, or, at the very least, that he's well distracted.

[thelongdormantcop]

Try as he might to hold off for as long as he can, there's only so much delaying the inevitable he can do, least of all at a time like this. At least, Jerry thinks, he's had the sense to give her some warning beforehand. Even then, he makes an effort to draw this out, but it isn't too long at all before he comes hard, muffling a groan into the curve of her neck, hips slowing. Already he thinks he ought to move, lay her down and finish her off, but for the moment, it's beyond him. He stays put instead, barely able to catch his breath.

[neverfor]

Grace exhales, sharp and high, a breath and a moan, still clinging to him, shaking from the exertion and the pleasure both. She wants so much more, wants everything, but for the moment, she can't say she minds this either. She can still feel him inside her, her body pulsing with it, but at least it gives her a little time to catch her breath. In the meanwhile, she kisses the side of his head, still feverish as she trails down to his neck, sucking at his skin.

[thelongdormantcop]

It's almost too much, the way she keeps kissing him, when he's unsteady on his feet as it is, what little energy he has left going to keeping her securely held up. Jerry can't bring himself to care, though, head tilting to the side as her mouth moves down his neck. "Come on," he says, voice quiet, rough. "Bedroom?" He still means to get her off, after all, and there's no reason why they should stay against the wall to do so.

[neverfor]

"Mm-hmm," Grace hums distractedly, taking a deep breath. She wants to keep moving her hips, to keep going, her head filled with the awareness of his hands on her skin, but that can wait a little longer. It takes a little while to get him ready to go again, and anyhow, she feels so good as it is, light and warm. "Yes, Jerry."

[thelongdormantcop]

Spent as he is, Jerry keeps holding onto her firmly as he steps away from the wall. It would be easier, probably, to set her down, but it isn't as if they're that far, and he's hardly about to make her walk when he can carry her pretty easily. "Alright," he says, almost teasing, as he walks into the bedroom, careful as he does not to misstep. When he reaches it, he leans over slightly, setting her down gently on the bed. "There you go."

[neverfor]

Grace huffs out a laugh, stretching languorously against the bed, teeth tugging at her lower lip. It still feels like her body's reaching for something, wanting more, but when he's standing there like that, gorgeous as can be, and she feels so lovely and warm, she can hardly complain. Reaching for his hand, she smiles, a low hum in her throat. "Come here," she says, free hand running along her body, just for the sake of being touched. "Jerry..."

[thelongdormantcop]

Though he's careful about setting her down, Jerry doesn't see any point in taking much more time apart from that. All he'd be doing is keeping her waiting, and that seems entirely useless. Climbing onto the bed on top of her, he kisses her neck, shifting lower to her collarbone, the space between her breasts. Some other time, maybe, it would be fun to make her wait, to see how much more he can get her to ask for it. Just not now, when he'd rather stay lost in her as it is.

[neverfor]

Grace sighs, a hand sliding into his hair. There's a small part of her that wants to ask him to wait, to kiss her, but there'll be time enough for that later, to lie here and hold him until they're both asleep, and it's easily washed away by the part of her that wants him just to keep going. When he's like this in particular, when he's urgent and passionate and entirely focused on her, she couldn't ask for anything more.

[thelongdormantcop]

Though the last thing he wants is to keep her waiting at a time like this, now that he's gotten her in bed, Jerry can't help the impulse to slow down just a little, lips trailing over the swell of one breast until he can draw her nipple between them. One way or another, he'll finish what he started not long ago, but he's hardly about to just get to work or make it just about achieving some end. She deserves more than that.

[neverfor]

Grace draws in a deep breath, toes curling as her eyes close, her back arching. She's dying for him to touch her, to do something to bring her off now that he's begun, but she can hardly complain about this, even if it makes her that much more desperate, trying not to squirm. "Jerry," she sighs, fingers curling gently in his hair. "Mm." It drives her crazy whenever he suddenly develops patience, but at least she knows it always pays off.

[thelongdormantcop]

In lieu of a response, Jerry hums against her skin, free hand coming up to cup her other breast. Just because he has no intention of keeping her waiting for too long doesn't mean that he's just going to rush through this, and there's a lot he can do more easily here that he couldn't while he had her against the wall. His own urgency having waned, he can take his time, make this good for her. Finally trailing lower, he keeps his hand in place, thumb brushing her nipple.

[neverfor]

Try as she might, Grace just can't stay still, arching up toward him, less a gesture of encouragement than one of unconscious need. Breath short, she bites her lip, looking down at him though her eyes are half-closed. He knows just what he does to her, the way his touch gets to her, and there's never been any point in hiding that. Even when this was all they could have, she was hardly going to pretend she didn't love every minute of it. She just got lucky, she supposes, getting the best sex of her life and her first love in the same man. Even in these strange modern times, she doubts too many women can say the same. "Jerry..."

[thelongdormantcop]

There's something almost downright addictive about the way she says his name. That's been true for a while now, of course, but it's no less so now, as much of a thrill as it was back in Los Angeles, though there's no one else she's with here. It makes Jerry about as inclined to tease her some for it as he is to give her what she's clearly asking for. The latter still wins out. He's kept her waiting long enough. "Yeah," he murmurs, muffled against her skin, as he shifts lower between her legs, pressing a kiss to the inside of one thigh. "Mm."

[neverfor]

She can practically feel his breath on her, tongue between her teeth, forgetting for a moment to breathe. It isn't as if Grace hasn't enjoyed herself thus far, but if he wants to give her more, she'll take it. She's always been a greedy sort, selfish, jealous, clinging to whatever's come her way, pleasure in any form most of all. And with it on offer, she finds herself desperate for it, legs canted wide, the hum of his voice on her skin leaving a sound caught in her throat.

[thelongdormantcop]

Having it made so clear how much he can get to her, it's difficult sometimes for Jerry not to get too smug at times like this. Even now, he can't pretend that he's not. He just isn't going to make too much of it, not when he's kept her waiting this long as it is. First just drawing his tongue slowly, lightly over her, he starts working it into her a moment later, a hand steady against her thigh, the other still cupping her breast.