[ it's not often that marta voices her displeasure (though certainly if there's someone she feels the most comfortable with doing so, it's kovacs) so it's very quickly obvious that this particular instance is more hyperbole than anything sincere. still, the miserable note of her voice lingers in the air from where it'd floated behind the bedroom door she's now seriously considering locking herself in. it's the only room in the quaint little house they've taken up that has a full-length mirror, the very same one that marta is now currently frowning at.
she doesn't personally have anything against pink. she likes pink, like she likes all of the softer, pastel colors, but she just now realizes she has a threshold for just how much pink she can tolerate, and apparently her new nurse's uniform has crossed it.
she glances out the window, watching small waves ripple through the sun-kissed mallard harbor, and tries not to entertain the idea of what might happen if a uniform were to just so happen to... fall in the water. completely by accident, of course. ]
Maybe I can just work with you. What did you end up deciding on?
[ kovacs' voice mutters back from just down the hall from the bedroom, over in the kitchen which isn't too far considering the size of the small harbor-side home. it's answered from a mouth that's nearly full of cereal, currently mid-chew, where he stands at the counter, shirtless and barefoot in a pair of jeans, currently flipping through the oversized flyer booklet that's meant to be a tourist overview of the town they just settled into.
as he turns each page, he very nearly rips each with the annoyance that goes into it, rolling his eyes as he's forced to further recognize just how much cubits seem to literally be tied into every aspect of every day life in this world. ]
At this rate, I'm gonna be a fucking lifeguard. [ he slaps the booklet aside, temporarily giving up on his failed attempt of a job search, sneaking in one final spoonful of cereal before dropping the spoon back in the bowl and turning to walk back towards the bedroom. ] Alright, what are you whining about in here? It can't be that bad.
[ palm on the door, he pushes it fully open as he leans against the frame, eyes widening when he finally gets the view of marta's assigned work uniform — pinky and most definitely shorter than he was expecting. the smirk on his face spreads almost instantly. ]
[ for a few pleasant seconds, marta indulges in the idea of kovacs as a lifeguard. chest and arms and legs on constant display, earning a tan, ocean water dripping down the contours of his muscles—
it's enough to put her in such a good mood that she belatedly realizes the sound of his voice has become a lot closer, and that the faint creaking she'd heard just now are his footsteps walking across the wooden floorboard.
she whirls around just as he nudges the door open, looking caught and flustered over it. she isn't sure what to make of his quietly breathed words, or the smirk making his eyes glint. they're not an unfamiliar thing, not by a longshot, but they feel so incongruous with her own feelings over the topic at hand that it definitely takes her longer than it should to click. ]
[ kovacs doesn't give her an immediate answer, not because he's at a loss for how to answer her but because he's still giving himself a long extended moment to appreciate the view he's been given. the uniform by itself is very obviously ridiculous, almost cartoonish in its pink pastel design than necessary, considering that her job as a nurse is meant to be about function over entertainment, but it doesn't stop marta from still looking damn attractive in it.
of course, he's absolutely shameless about looking her over, especially since the skirt is much shorter than necessary, giving a plentiful view for studying the way the stockings wrap over her legs. ]
If by cotton candy, you mean, 'do you look delicious'? Then you sure as hell do.
[ he knows that's not the answer she wants, which is probably exactly why he's grinning even more, walking over to the front of the bed and taking a seat at the edge, just to earn a different angle. ]
[ it finally hits her about one second before he speaks what that look in his eyes means, its familiarity and the context finally slotting into a place where it all makes sense. she doesn't color easily — her skin isn't nearly fair enough for it — but she can feel her cheeks and ears heat up as if she did anyway, as her displeasure with the uniform shifts into one of intrigue.
rather than approach him as he asks, she just turns in her place, movements slow as if to give him a full view anyway. her hands come up to her hips, right above the obnoxious flare of the too-short skirt. ]
You look hungry, Kovaca. I thought you already had breakfast?
[ he can see in her expression how he's possibly worked wonders in distracting her from her frustrated predicament. it's always a fun game to steer her concerns to where her annoyance lies blatantly with him, if only because he knows plenty of ways to lift up her mood again.
and he knows he has her attention, because even if she doesn't listen to him in getting closer, he can read the shift of her body with that slow turn that suggests she's doing that just for him.
with a held smirk, he continues watching her, leaning back just enough to steady himself with his elbows to the mattress, like he's getting comfortable being right where he is. either that, or he's trying to get a better look under her skirt. ]
Cereal was too sugary. You sure this is for a clinic?
[ annoyance wouldn't exactly be the accurate term for what marta's feeling right now, kovacs' tactics (as creative as they are sincere) effectively drawing her away from any semblance of ill feeling with the all-too-casual way he leans back on his arms, the slowly building simmer in his eyes. ]
You think I got a job somewhere else?
[ there is a lilt to her brow and her tone that seems to dare him to finish that thought, see where the implication lands him. but there's really only mirth dancing around in her brown eyes, punctuated by the way she makes her hips sway very obviously when she finally comes closer.
her knees bump against the mattress, but she doesn't stop there. the skirt flares out naturally so there's no need to lift it like she does when she begins to climb onto the bed, a knee coming to settle on either side of his hips. she stays up on those knees, enjoying the rare view of being up higher than him. ]
[ he recognizes that tone, one that's been used on him again and again, for all the ways that marta knows how to talk to him better than anyone. she can tell when he's being snide, when there's a deadpan remark of humor ready down the line in conversation, the kind that often gets him on anyone's nerves, and he'd lie if he ever said he didn't enjoy the way she knows how to dodge and play around it, like she knows how to tug the leash.
and he loves it when she does.
her hips are a distraction from her question, the flare of the skirt punctuating the sway of those movements even further, letting him watch carefully at every step that brings her closer to the bed, silent as she climbs up to hover over him.
he meets her eyes like a quiet challenge, lips bearing their usual mischief as he brings up a hand to carefully slide over the front of her thigh beneath a skirt that does little to cover her, feeling out the material of the stocking, thumb stroking slow as if to test how thin it is for her to feel that direct touch. ]
Still not close enough for me to tell. Crawl up a little more and I can give you the full inspection.
[ she remembers how, in the beginning, when they first decided to give this thing between them a chance, she would wake up to the feel of his body pressed up against hers, holding her breath for a few seconds as if that might somehow ensure he doesn't disappear. it's a foolish thing, to build dreams off of dreams themselves, where nothing is tangible and can get torn away at any second—
but marta hasn't been this happy in a long time, either. far from the practical, rational decisions she's always tried to make in her past, if temporary is all she's given here, she'll take it.
anything for another few seconds longer to see this man smile at her. ]
A full inspection? That sounds ambitious on an empty stomach.
[ doesn't stop her from moving though. even with his hand on her thigh she shifts several inches more until his hand has nowhere else to go by be up against swell of her hip, until the hem of that skirt is left tickling his neck and chin. one hand still rests on her other hip, but the other drifts down to trace the sharp angles of his jaw. her fingers are soft in their touch until they're not, grabbing the bottom of his chin to tilt his head further back so he can look right up at her.
for the record? the stockings are ridiculously thin. she feels every inch of his touch. ]
[ all of this has been threatened to be taken away plenty of times now — accidents on missions, lost memories, return trips back home, kovacs' own cursed fate to lose everything he's ever loved. sometimes, it's easy to forget about how much they've given to get here, if only because the very idea of wanting to be with her is easy.
his fingers touching her now be daring and playful in the moment, but he'd do the torment and torture of the past year and some all over again just to make sure he ends up right back here, resting on this bed with the salvation of her touch right against his chin.
with the demanding tilt she gives him to face her, he follows that silent instruction to meet her eyes, the stare focused and attentive, lustful and longing all at once. the kind that says i'd fight my way through hell to meet your eyes like this. ]
Won't be empty for long. Not with the meal I'll be having.
[ his fingers maintain their slow pace, not with hesitation but with intent, as he curves his palm inward along her thigh, gradually slipping higher and higher until his thumb can be brush right against the apex, nudging a firm but slow dragging stroke where he can feel her panties beneath the stocking. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
KICKS DOOR DOWN you know what this is
[ it's not often that marta voices her displeasure (though certainly if there's someone she feels the most comfortable with doing so, it's kovacs) so it's very quickly obvious that this particular instance is more hyperbole than anything sincere. still, the miserable note of her voice lingers in the air from where it'd floated behind the bedroom door she's now seriously considering locking herself in. it's the only room in the quaint little house they've taken up that has a full-length mirror, the very same one that marta is now currently frowning at.
she doesn't personally have anything against pink. she likes pink, like she likes all of the softer, pastel colors, but she just now realizes she has a threshold for just how much pink she can tolerate, and apparently her new nurse's uniform has crossed it.
she glances out the window, watching small waves ripple through the sun-kissed mallard harbor, and tries not to entertain the idea of what might happen if a uniform were to just so happen to... fall in the water. completely by accident, of course. ]
Maybe I can just work with you. What did you end up deciding on?
no subject
[ kovacs' voice mutters back from just down the hall from the bedroom, over in the kitchen which isn't too far considering the size of the small harbor-side home. it's answered from a mouth that's nearly full of cereal, currently mid-chew, where he stands at the counter, shirtless and barefoot in a pair of jeans, currently flipping through the oversized flyer booklet that's meant to be a tourist overview of the town they just settled into.
as he turns each page, he very nearly rips each with the annoyance that goes into it, rolling his eyes as he's forced to further recognize just how much cubits seem to literally be tied into every aspect of every day life in this world. ]
At this rate, I'm gonna be a fucking lifeguard. [ he slaps the booklet aside, temporarily giving up on his failed attempt of a job search, sneaking in one final spoonful of cereal before dropping the spoon back in the bowl and turning to walk back towards the bedroom. ] Alright, what are you whining about in here? It can't be that bad.
[ palm on the door, he pushes it fully open as he leans against the frame, eyes widening when he finally gets the view of marta's assigned work uniform — pinky and most definitely shorter than he was expecting. the smirk on his face spreads almost instantly. ]
Holy shit.
no subject
it's enough to put her in such a good mood that she belatedly realizes the sound of his voice has become a lot closer, and that the faint creaking she'd heard just now are his footsteps walking across the wooden floorboard.
she whirls around just as he nudges the door open, looking caught and flustered over it. she isn't sure what to make of his quietly breathed words, or the smirk making his eyes glint. they're not an unfamiliar thing, not by a longshot, but they feel so incongruous with her own feelings over the topic at hand that it definitely takes her longer than it should to click. ]
Be honest. Do I look like cotton candy?
no subject
of course, he's absolutely shameless about looking her over, especially since the skirt is much shorter than necessary, giving a plentiful view for studying the way the stockings wrap over her legs. ]
If by cotton candy, you mean, 'do you look delicious'? Then you sure as hell do.
[ he knows that's not the answer she wants, which is probably exactly why he's grinning even more, walking over to the front of the bed and taking a seat at the edge, just to earn a different angle. ]
But come closer and I'll get a better look.
no subject
rather than approach him as he asks, she just turns in her place, movements slow as if to give him a full view anyway. her hands come up to her hips, right above the obnoxious flare of the too-short skirt. ]
You look hungry, Kovaca. I thought you already had breakfast?
no subject
[ he can see in her expression how he's possibly worked wonders in distracting her from her frustrated predicament. it's always a fun game to steer her concerns to where her annoyance lies blatantly with him, if only because he knows plenty of ways to lift up her mood again.
and he knows he has her attention, because even if she doesn't listen to him in getting closer, he can read the shift of her body with that slow turn that suggests she's doing that just for him.
with a held smirk, he continues watching her, leaning back just enough to steady himself with his elbows to the mattress, like he's getting comfortable being right where he is. either that, or he's trying to get a better look under her skirt. ]
Cereal was too sugary. You sure this is for a clinic?
no subject
You think I got a job somewhere else?
[ there is a lilt to her brow and her tone that seems to dare him to finish that thought, see where the implication lands him. but there's really only mirth dancing around in her brown eyes, punctuated by the way she makes her hips sway very obviously when she finally comes closer.
her knees bump against the mattress, but she doesn't stop there. the skirt flares out naturally so there's no need to lift it like she does when she begins to climb onto the bed, a knee coming to settle on either side of his hips. she stays up on those knees, enjoying the rare view of being up higher than him. ]
Go ahead. Tell me what I really look like.
no subject
and he loves it when she does.
her hips are a distraction from her question, the flare of the skirt punctuating the sway of those movements even further, letting him watch carefully at every step that brings her closer to the bed, silent as she climbs up to hover over him.
he meets her eyes like a quiet challenge, lips bearing their usual mischief as he brings up a hand to carefully slide over the front of her thigh beneath a skirt that does little to cover her, feeling out the material of the stocking, thumb stroking slow as if to test how thin it is for her to feel that direct touch. ]
Still not close enough for me to tell. Crawl up a little more and I can give you the full inspection.
cw: adult themes
but marta hasn't been this happy in a long time, either. far from the practical, rational decisions she's always tried to make in her past, if temporary is all she's given here, she'll take it.
anything for another few seconds longer to see this man smile at her. ]
A full inspection? That sounds ambitious on an empty stomach.
[ doesn't stop her from moving though. even with his hand on her thigh she shifts several inches more until his hand has nowhere else to go by be up against swell of her hip, until the hem of that skirt is left tickling his neck and chin. one hand still rests on her other hip, but the other drifts down to trace the sharp angles of his jaw. her fingers are soft in their touch until they're not, grabbing the bottom of his chin to tilt his head further back so he can look right up at her.
for the record? the stockings are ridiculously thin. she feels every inch of his touch. ]
cw: kovacs gonna get nasty with his wife
his fingers touching her now be daring and playful in the moment, but he'd do the torment and torture of the past year and some all over again just to make sure he ends up right back here, resting on this bed with the salvation of her touch right against his chin.
with the demanding tilt she gives him to face her, he follows that silent instruction to meet her eyes, the stare focused and attentive, lustful and longing all at once. the kind that says i'd fight my way through hell to meet your eyes like this. ]
Won't be empty for long. Not with the meal I'll be having.
[ his fingers maintain their slow pace, not with hesitation but with intent, as he curves his palm inward along her thigh, gradually slipping higher and higher until his thumb can be brush right against the apex, nudging a firm but slow dragging stroke where he can feel her panties beneath the stocking. ]