[ the plan of attack is simple: she straddles his lap, because it's the easiest way to ensure that as much of her body as possible presses against him, and her fingertips slide into his hair, because that's the easiest way to coax soft shivers from him before her mouth even gets involved.
which, for the record, it will. just because he can't touch doesn't mean she won't. her mouth has plenty to do, peppering soft-as-air kisses all over: the line of his jaw, the arc of his cheekbones, the column of his throat, the shell of his ear. her teeth drag too, just enough that he can feel the ghost of her breath afterwards, over all those spots.
a minute isn't too long, but sixty seconds do carry on quite a while when weight is heavy in his lap, and she's counting on him starting to squirm and groan long before the minute is up. ]
[ god, he's really glad he did decide to pull his pants back up before he'd said she could sit on his lap without touching. and, at first, he manages. it's tempting to grab her hips and pull her down against him but he grabs fistfuls of sheet to stop himself.
but then her hands end up in his hair and her mouth ends up on his face and he makes a sound that's halfway between a moan and a curse. he grabs at more and more of the sheets, curling them tightly in between his fingers to stop himself from touching.
but, god he wants to touch and he can't stop himself from shifting a bit. it's not touching because they were already touching there so he hasn't failed. ]
[ she should have asked him "do you want to keep playing". that would have been the smart move, because if she knew him at all, marcos would absolutely opt to skip the game in favor of swapping his handgrip from the sheets to the smooth skin over her hips. if they stopped playing, she could kiss him the way she wants to, and let him touch her the way he wants to.
but no, she hadn't said that, so now she's given the torturous choice of inviting payback or bowing out. but caroline's not a quitter... so there's really only one choice. ]
[ if she'd asked him that question, he would have been the one to quit, to say mercy, to call uncle and give up and get his pants back off, take her shirt back off and roll around on his bed, even if he knows she would have held the victory over his head, it would have been worth it.
but no, she wants to keep playing so he leans back on one hand, thoughtful. he has to think to something good, something that would make her lose her mind just as she's made him lose his mind. ]
I'm going to go jump in the shower. [ it's dirty, it's low, and it's perfect. ] I dare you not to join me.
[ that, unfortunately, means he has to nudge her off his lap but he's careful about it before getting to his feet and stripping off his shirt. he grabs a towel on the way out the door and then disappears down the hallway to turn the water on.
it doesn't take long for the water to get warm (thanks great water pressure) and then he steps in and waits to see what she'll do. ]
[ she wants to. god, does she want to. the combination of hot water over her skin and his naked body so close to her own is an incredibly tempting combination, but she won't. she can't, because he's dared her not to.
so instead, as soon as the door to his room closes again and the sound of the water splashing against tile begins to echo, caroline tugs off what little clothing she has left and tucks it into the top drawer of his dresser. from within, she pulls out the softest shirt she can find — a soft heather gray usually topped with flannel or a jacket, one that skims down to the tops of her thighs — and splays out on his bed, blanket draped just enough to cover her shoulders (and the change of clothing she's adopted).
when he comes back, well, he'll just have to see the situation he's invited. because he didn't give her any restrictions on what else she couldn't do. ]
[ is he disappointed he didn't see her for his shower? of course. is he surprised? not really. she's competitive and she'd want to win so he chuckles when he steps out of the shower and wraps a towel around his hips.
he doesn't bother to put anything else on, slipping down the hall and into the room, still speckled with water, hair wet and askew and drops trailing down from his shoulders to his chest and then further down to disappear in the towel.
when he steps inside and closes the door, he finally glimpses her and his eyebrows go up. ]
[ which is true, the temperature is rather chilly when there's no warm body to curl up against (and marcos is almost always the warmer of the two). but there had been a better reason to crawl under the covers, and that had been the simple element of surprise. to keep it, she'll have to keep the covers up, and hope that he's the one to tug them down so he can see just what's underneath. ]
[ he probably should be, by now. caroline doesn't bother to hide the grin that brightens her face at the sight of his de-toweled body. even with boxers, it's still a good look. (honestly, he's just a hot man, and she's a shallow girl.) ]
Why don't you come to bed, and I'll think up a question while you keep me from freezing.
[ really, she's just wasting time. she wants his reaction. ]
[ he laughs out the word, reaching for the corner of the blanket and tugging it down so he can slip in beside her. except he stops in his tracks when he realizes what he's done.
he knows that shirt. she probably knows that shirt. he's worn it enough around her and now it's draped on her body, flattering and comfortable and soft and marcos swallows, mouth suddenly dry. ]
Are you wearing my shirt?
[ just...checking. the game is already over. he knows what he's going to do next but he's just gonna ask that first. ]
[ the grin she's sporting melts into something nearly wicked. of course it's his shirt. what's more, it's only his shirt, and if she were to lift her hips or move just so, said shirt might hike up on her hips just enough to prove it. ]
What's it look like?
[ and what's he going to do about it if it is: the question that she doesn't need to ask, lingering in the laughter begging to be spilled out from behind her grinning mouth. ]
[ it's over, she wins, he loses, he doesn't care. he crawls into bed with a purpose now, not stopping until he's laying on top of her, feeling the fabric of his shirt against his body.
what a heady sensation, one that pulls a shiver from him. god. she's so — he doesn't even know what to say there. she's important and he wants her here and he wants here there and he just wants her. ]
You win. [ and her prize is his mouth descending down to hers, fitting against hers easily. ]
[ damn fucking right she wins. she gets him into bed, she gets to feel his body react to hers, she gets to see the way his eyes roll into the back of his head at the sight of her in his shirt — and, perhaps most satisfying, she gets the eager, desperate touch he's held off so far tonight, his mouth crashing against hers as his hands clutch at skin and shirt and everything between.
between kisses, between gasps of breath, between legs slotting against each other, caroline doesn't resist the moan that slips from her lips. she can't, and she doesn't want to. she wants him to know just how much she wanted him to find her, how much she wanted him to react, how much she wants him just like this.
she could tell him, she knows. she could confess all the thoughts that flit through her head, the way her stomach twists, the way her heart seems to seize in her chest when he smiles at her — but it's not the right time. never seems to be. so she'll hold it until it is, and take this in the meantime. if she can't have all of him (if she can't have the parts she doesn't dare to ask for yet), she can have this a hundred times over. ]
[ for a second, all he can do is kiss her, so overwhelmed with want and desire and out of his mind with it knowing she was in his bed, in his shirt and she'd done that just to try and get a rise out of him.
she'd succeeded. he deepens their kiss, trying to say thank you or show his appreciation or he doesn't even know. he just likes kissing her, he likes being close to her, he likes her. it's that simple.
when one of her hands skims over his shoulder, he reaches back for it, lacing his fingers with hers and pressing it down onto the bed. when he pulls back to take a breath, he keeps kissing her, lips finding her cheek and the line of her jaw, her temple, her ear, until he breathes out and blinks down at her. ]
[ the shift is subtle, just one single moment, but it's there — his body presses into hers, weight bearing down, but marcos tugs her hand above her head and holds it there and caroline can't help but let out a soft groan of approval. it's a reminder of the last time he'd kept her pinned in place, of her hands tied up by soft leather above her head; it's a reminder that sends arousal rushing through her, eager and wanting and greedy for it as she breathes out hot air against his skin. ]
I thought you'd want me to take it off?
[ but sharing is caring, right? maybe he's feeling particularly generous today. (really, he's generous all the time: with his time, with his attention, with his reassurances and encouragements and devotion. this is just another variety of the same.) ]
[ doesn't that tend to happen when they get around each other? if they weren't in public, eventually clothes started to come off no matter how their time together started. he hadn't even planned on her coming over tonight (though he always liked when she did) but now, here they were, in his bed, wearing one whole outfit between them. ]
I meant tomorrow. I want you to take it with you whenever you leave tomorrow.
[ after breakfast, after lunch, whatever. he slips his free hand down and snags the edge of his shirt so he can tug it up a little, letting it settle around her waist before he rested his hips against hers. ]
[ sometimes, even in public. the ferris wheel had been a mix of both, hadn't it? the presumption of privacy and then the realization and subsequent crash back to public earth. this, at least, was fully private. ]
Can you handle that? [ a soft exhale, appreciation and adjustment both, as he settles against her; his weight is warm and firm over her hips, but it's a weight she welcomes, familiar and enticing all at once. as he shifts, her face tips up to his, a coy smile toying at the edge of her mouth. ] If I take it with me, I'm gonna wear it to bed at night.
[ can he handle that mental image? her, in his shirt and nothing else, all alone in her bed... thinking about him, probably, and having to take care of what he's not there to do? ]
[ really trying to make it so marcos can't focus on anything, huh? he bites down on his lip again, a familiar reaction when something happens that riles him up, and he moans a little. ]
I think — I think I can deal with it just fine.
[ maybe he'd lay there and imagine it and have to take care of himself but the thought of her taking one of his shirts and wearing it to bed warms him right around his heart. ]
[ god, she loves the way he sounds. how he doesn't hold back any of his reactions, how he moans and groans and swears her name like a prayer under his breath. each one sends a shiver down her spine, a flush of wanting through her stomach and down; each one makes her want more and more every time. ]
Okay.
[ and as close as he is, the agreement breathes out in hot air against his cheeks and nose, a gust of breath over his skin as he leans in. ]
Truth or dare?
[ he said the game was over, but she wants just one more round. ]
[ he doesn't answer right away, choosing to press a kiss against her lower and then upper lip before sighing and looking down at her. ]
Dare.
[ he expects that whatever she chooses, he's going to get some version of the same thing from her. so, he goes with dare just to see what she has in mind. ]
[ she could give him something reckless or risque — i dare you to kiss me comes to mind, seductive and flirtatious — or something silly. she could dare him into pumping the brakes, or maybe another cold shower.
instead, though, caroline goes for something soft, something sweet; a gentle exhale of breath and a smile. ]
Tell somebody I'm your girlfriend.
[ and then her breath, held in her throat, waiting for the response. ]
[ it takes him a second to figure out how to call someone and bring caroline onto the call with him. implants are strange but he's glad they've retained some of the same capabilities as the cell phones he's used to.
he connects with jyn easily enough and then tells her exactly what Caroline's requested. ]
Hey, Jyn. Sorry to bother you. I'm here with Caroline, and we're just hanging out — [ sort of half nakedly ] and I just wanted to let you know that we've decided she's my girlfriend and I'm pretty happy about that.
[ jyn was relaxing in bed reading a plant book to prepare for her farm life and platonically playing with cassian's hair, but now she is having a phone call. jyn erso would prefer texting. ]
Congratulations?
[ a beat before a distracted: ] No, Cassian, why would I be saying congratulations to you? For, what, your face? I'm talking to Marcos. Apparently Caroline is his girlfriend now and this is news.
[ caroline doesn't realize what he's doing until it's too late, until he's connected the call and jyn's given her slightly confused greeting — everything okay? because, well, it could not be — and then it's really too late to do anything but laugh.
awkwardly, a bit embarrassed; her face buries into his chest as she pulls him down over her, but it does nothing to hide the warmth and joy in her voice when she finally manages to put together words. ]
It's news to me, [ is caroline's very astute statement, followed up by one in a (still entirely audible, because brain implants hushed whisper. ] I didn't mean right now.
[ well, too late to do anything about it now. jyn was in on the news and marcos wasn't going to do anything ridiculous like taking it back. he peers down at her, amused and almost certain that she was probably blushing. ]
Besides, of course it's news. We just decided it. That makes it news.
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which, for the record, it will. just because he can't touch doesn't mean she won't. her mouth has plenty to do, peppering soft-as-air kisses all over: the line of his jaw, the arc of his cheekbones, the column of his throat, the shell of his ear. her teeth drag too, just enough that he can feel the ghost of her breath afterwards, over all those spots.
a minute isn't too long, but sixty seconds do carry on quite a while when weight is heavy in his lap, and she's counting on him starting to squirm and groan long before the minute is up. ]
Your turn.
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but then her hands end up in his hair and her mouth ends up on his face and he makes a sound that's halfway between a moan and a curse. he grabs at more and more of the sheets, curling them tightly in between his fingers to stop himself from touching.
but, god he wants to touch and he can't stop himself from shifting a bit. it's not touching because they were already touching there so he hasn't failed. ]
Truth or dare?
[ will it be payback time or not? ]
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but no, she hadn't said that, so now she's given the torturous choice of inviting payback or bowing out. but caroline's not a quitter... so there's really only one choice. ]
Dare me, sweetheart.
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but no, she wants to keep playing so he leans back on one hand, thoughtful. he has to think to something good, something that would make her lose her mind just as she's made him lose his mind. ]
I'm going to go jump in the shower. [ it's dirty, it's low, and it's perfect. ] I dare you not to join me.
[ that, unfortunately, means he has to nudge her off his lap but he's careful about it before getting to his feet and stripping off his shirt. he grabs a towel on the way out the door and then disappears down the hallway to turn the water on.
it doesn't take long for the water to get warm (thanks great water pressure) and then he steps in and waits to see what she'll do. ]
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so instead, as soon as the door to his room closes again and the sound of the water splashing against tile begins to echo, caroline tugs off what little clothing she has left and tucks it into the top drawer of his dresser. from within, she pulls out the softest shirt she can find — a soft heather gray usually topped with flannel or a jacket, one that skims down to the tops of her thighs — and splays out on his bed, blanket draped just enough to cover her shoulders (and the change of clothing she's adopted).
when he comes back, well, he'll just have to see the situation he's invited. because he didn't give her any restrictions on what else she couldn't do. ]
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he doesn't bother to put anything else on, slipping down the hall and into the room, still speckled with water, hair wet and askew and drops trailing down from his shoulders to his chest and then further down to disappear in the towel.
when he steps inside and closes the door, he finally glimpses her and his eyebrows go up. ]
You going to sleep?
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[ which is true, the temperature is rather chilly when there's no warm body to curl up against (and marcos is almost always the warmer of the two). but there had been a better reason to crawl under the covers, and that had been the simple element of surprise. to keep it, she'll have to keep the covers up, and hope that he's the one to tug them down so he can see just what's underneath. ]
Come keep me warm?
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[ he's not shy about dropping the towel while he's standing there or moving to his dresser to grab a hair of dark boxers to slide on. ]
I choose truth.
[ it's his turn, after all, and he's going to choose that as he picks up the towel and puts a few things away before crossing to the bed. ]
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[ he probably should be, by now. caroline doesn't bother to hide the grin that brightens her face at the sight of his de-toweled body. even with boxers, it's still a good look. (honestly, he's just a hot man, and she's a shallow girl.) ]
Why don't you come to bed, and I'll think up a question while you keep me from freezing.
[ really, she's just wasting time. she wants his reaction. ]
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[ he laughs out the word, reaching for the corner of the blanket and tugging it down so he can slip in beside her. except he stops in his tracks when he realizes what he's done.
he knows that shirt. she probably knows that shirt. he's worn it enough around her and now it's draped on her body, flattering and comfortable and soft and marcos swallows, mouth suddenly dry. ]
Are you wearing my shirt?
[ just...checking. the game is already over. he knows what he's going to do next but he's just gonna ask that first. ]
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What's it look like?
[ and what's he going to do about it if it is: the question that she doesn't need to ask, lingering in the laughter begging to be spilled out from behind her grinning mouth. ]
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[ it's over, she wins, he loses, he doesn't care. he crawls into bed with a purpose now, not stopping until he's laying on top of her, feeling the fabric of his shirt against his body.
what a heady sensation, one that pulls a shiver from him. god. she's so — he doesn't even know what to say there. she's important and he wants her here and he wants here there and he just wants her. ]
You win. [ and her prize is his mouth descending down to hers, fitting against hers easily. ]
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between kisses, between gasps of breath, between legs slotting against each other, caroline doesn't resist the moan that slips from her lips. she can't, and she doesn't want to. she wants him to know just how much she wanted him to find her, how much she wanted him to react, how much she wants him just like this.
she could tell him, she knows. she could confess all the thoughts that flit through her head, the way her stomach twists, the way her heart seems to seize in her chest when he smiles at her — but it's not the right time. never seems to be. so she'll hold it until it is, and take this in the meantime. if she can't have all of him (if she can't have the parts she doesn't dare to ask for yet), she can have this a hundred times over. ]
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she'd succeeded. he deepens their kiss, trying to say thank you or show his appreciation or he doesn't even know. he just likes kissing her, he likes being close to her, he likes her. it's that simple.
when one of her hands skims over his shoulder, he reaches back for it, lacing his fingers with hers and pressing it down onto the bed. when he pulls back to take a breath, he keeps kissing her, lips finding her cheek and the line of her jaw, her temple, her ear, until he breathes out and blinks down at her. ]
I think you might have to keep this shirt.
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I thought you'd want me to take it off?
[ but sharing is caring, right? maybe he's feeling particularly generous today. (really, he's generous all the time: with his time, with his attention, with his reassurances and encouragements and devotion. this is just another variety of the same.) ]
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[ doesn't that tend to happen when they get around each other? if they weren't in public, eventually clothes started to come off no matter how their time together started. he hadn't even planned on her coming over tonight (though he always liked when she did) but now, here they were, in his bed, wearing one whole outfit between them. ]
I meant tomorrow. I want you to take it with you whenever you leave tomorrow.
[ after breakfast, after lunch, whatever. he slips his free hand down and snags the edge of his shirt so he can tug it up a little, letting it settle around her waist before he rested his hips against hers. ]
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Can you handle that? [ a soft exhale, appreciation and adjustment both, as he settles against her; his weight is warm and firm over her hips, but it's a weight she welcomes, familiar and enticing all at once. as he shifts, her face tips up to his, a coy smile toying at the edge of her mouth. ] If I take it with me, I'm gonna wear it to bed at night.
[ can he handle that mental image? her, in his shirt and nothing else, all alone in her bed... thinking about him, probably, and having to take care of what he's not there to do? ]
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I think — I think I can deal with it just fine.
[ maybe he'd lay there and imagine it and have to take care of himself but the thought of her taking one of his shirts and wearing it to bed warms him right around his heart. ]
I think I want you to. I think you should.
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Okay.
[ and as close as he is, the agreement breathes out in hot air against his cheeks and nose, a gust of breath over his skin as he leans in. ]
Truth or dare?
[ he said the game was over, but she wants just one more round. ]
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Dare.
[ he expects that whatever she chooses, he's going to get some version of the same thing from her. so, he goes with dare just to see what she has in mind. ]
Last one.
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instead, though, caroline goes for something soft, something sweet; a gentle exhale of breath and a smile. ]
Tell somebody I'm your girlfriend.
[ and then her breath, held in her throat, waiting for the response. ]
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[ it takes him a second to figure out how to call someone and bring caroline onto the call with him. implants are strange but he's glad they've retained some of the same capabilities as the cell phones he's used to.
he connects with jyn easily enough and then tells her exactly what Caroline's requested. ]
Hey, Jyn. Sorry to bother you. I'm here with Caroline, and we're just hanging out — [ sort of half nakedly ] and I just wanted to let you know that we've decided she's my girlfriend and I'm pretty happy about that.
[ feel free to interject, ladies. ]
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Congratulations?
[ a beat before a distracted: ] No, Cassian, why would I be saying congratulations to you? For, what, your face? I'm talking to Marcos. Apparently Caroline is his girlfriend now and this is news.
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awkwardly, a bit embarrassed; her face buries into his chest as she pulls him down over her, but it does nothing to hide the warmth and joy in her voice when she finally manages to put together words. ]
It's news to me, [ is caroline's very astute statement, followed up by one in a (still entirely audible, because brain implants hushed whisper. ] I didn't mean right now.
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[ well, too late to do anything about it now. jyn was in on the news and marcos wasn't going to do anything ridiculous like taking it back. he peers down at her, amused and almost certain that she was probably blushing. ]
Besides, of course it's news. We just decided it. That makes it news.
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