#like honestly who else gonna pull off that shimmy moments like jake?????

[bandsanitizer]

me about to write an essay on how orange blood is enha’s best comeback/era yet, starting with heeseung fitting the title track very well but also the entire sonic/vibes/concept being a nice blend of the maturity and darker tones enha’s vampy concept has, while also delivering some freshness and brightness that also just kind of comes? with them. that it’s 100% a win for jake and sunoo, in that the the pops of color provide depth and duality that allow for what I would say are more natural and well-excuted expressions and energy they showcase. like not to put anyone in a box, but I think, as seen in sweet venom, there’s opportunities to be playful with a song that sounds a bit darker that other comebacks like bite me didn’t quite have. again, not to say any of the members are incapable of one aesthetic/concept either way, but by approaching a concept and sonic with depth and a blend, it gives the artists opportunity for both growth and showcasing of their strengths.

[electricbluebutterflies]

(hold me close) ‘til the night turns gray

Or, how ebf thinks the Kabby accidental honeymoon might have started. And also the scar-kink fic I threatened @shefollowedfires and @marcuskanc with. Set between 4x01 and 4x02, and obviously here be smut // NSFW stuff. Title from “Hold Me Close” by Overcoats.

For the third night in a row, Abby slips into the spacious room Marcus has claimed as home while they're in the tower, medical bag in hand. She knows damned well  that he's a competent grown man and could change the bandages around his wrists easily enough, but she's desperate for reasons to be alone with him and this one looks respectable enough on paper. She's not sure which of his other traits will define him on Earth, but his tendency for weird injuries is growing a reputation and Abby sees no harm in using that to her advantage.

No harm, either, in a few lingering kisses before she leaves and wanders back to her own bedroom down the hall. But no more than that either.

She's not sure where they stand, honestly, and she's not sure how to start that conversation. What she does know is that Marcus has always been a rather private man (and before that, she remembers in passing, stoic even as a young boy), perhaps too much for his own good but always with valid reasons attached. He guards his heart and he's got enough scars to prove his choice. So if this is going to go anywhere, Abby thinks, then he'd better make a move because she's not gonna wait forever.

She slips into the room and lets out an involuntary gasp at what she sees.

"Something wrong?" Marcus asks in that quiet worried who-do-I-have-to-threaten way of his.

No, Abby thinks, no, the problem is that something is very right and her mouth is suddenly too dry for words. Other parts of her body, not so much.

For fuck's sake, she should not be this overwhelmed by the sight of a shirtless man! Especially not one she's seen in that particular state of undress at several points over the last however-many years! Especially not…

Too bad, because there is nothing she can do about the sudden wanting ache slightly below her stomach.

"Abby? Is something wrong?"

The freaking nerve of him.

"Just tired," she shrugs. Tired covers enough, she figures. Maybe not the involuntary lick of her lips as she slowly drifts closer, but the rest of it should be safe enough.

She moves mechanically, kneels in front of where he sits on the bed, undoes the bandage on his right wrist first, runs her fingers over the healing wound in the name of checking for swelling or bruising but it's more than that really. These new scars won't be easily hidden, but there's a certain beauty in them. He went through hell, again, because he was worried about her, again.

Abby Griffin isn't used to being on the receiving end of this kind of love, but she reckons she can let that change without any more crossfire.

She's not sure when she starts crying, but it's around the same time she ties the new bandage over Marcus's right wrist and moves her eyes and hands to his left. Here, the new scar is not alone. Involuntarily, her hand slips up his arm to the physical reminder of the last time something sharp intentionally pierced his skin. That one, badly tended in the immediate aftermath, has scarred into a jagged band of slightly paler skin halfway around his forearm. She did what she could when she could talk him into staying still long enough to let her, but that was days after it happened and there was nothing she could do and-

"Abby?"

Shit. She's crying, a complete mess, and-

His right hand slips under her chin, gently bringing her face up and not giving her much of a choice about looking at him. "Whatever it is, you can tell me. You know that, right?"

She nods, blinks, struggles for breath. "I… you're braver than me."

Marcus shakes his head, ghost of a smile on his lips. "What makes you say that?"

"You always end up bleeding," Abby murmurs. "You have scars to prove your strength. I don't." Not apart from the one on her thigh, but she dares not mention that or even think of it right now. That wasn't brave, that was tragic, that was-

"And you always make sure I don't bleed out," Marcus murmurs, bringing her back to the current moment. "We balance each other, Abby. I need you just as much as you need me."

There are about a dozen things she could say in response to that, but instead she leans forward and kisses him like she's wanted to for a couple of months now. Not a what-the-hell kiss, not like last time, no, this time slow and sweet and nothing else on her mind but the body opposite hers.

This time, like it might go somewhere.

Abby's forty-one, not dead. Her hormonal needs might not be what they used to be, but they're still existent. And there's lost time to make up for, and plenty of time to kill while she's at it, and-

How she ends up straddling him on the bed, she has no idea. It just kinda happens, and she's pleased enough to shut up and go with it.

"I need you," Marcus breathes as she grinds her hips against his and feels his body respond to hers. Maybe not the three little words most people dream about, but plenty good enough.

She pulls back for a moment, remembering where they were before she got sidetracked, and leans down to kiss the recent wound on his left wrist before she ties a new bandage over it. Then upward, wet yet feathery kisses over his sacrifice scar, showing love as best she can and-

"You're still braver than me," Abby laughs. "But I think we need to forget that and take advantage of what we have here."

"In what particular way?"

"Something could change at any time, and we're already horizontal on a mattress, and…"

He rises to kiss her, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close, and a switch flips in her brain and there is nothing but this.

They could die any day now, Abby reminds herself as she removes her jacket and shirt and sighs contentedly as her partner maps her skin with his hands. There are countless things that could tear their world apart, and countless more she doesn't even know about yet. Might as well take a chance while she can.

Her bra is thrown to the floor, and then she attempts to shimmy out of tight pants while Marcus sucks on one of her nipples. Easier said but done, but she pulls it off, and her underwear's too wet to be useful anyways so that too is thrown into the multiplying pile a few feet behind them.

God. Yes.

She hasn't been fully naked around anyone since Jake - a good two years alone - and it's almost awkward and yet not because of the way Marcus is staring at her. His eyes are fully dilated with lust, and yet there's a gentleness too as he takes her in and starts to touch. As if, perhaps, as if he never thought he'd see such beauty and yet here it is in front of him and his for the taking and he's not fully sure what to do with it.

He glides two fingers through her slit and she throws her head back and laughs because of all the improbable things in her life, the fact that she's about to have sex with Marcus Kane in a freaking castle on Earth is just…

"Your turn," Abby growls, ghosting her hands just above his hips.

She shifts to allow for remaining clothing to be shed, and then she's got something to look at as well. There's a solid sort of beauty to Marcus, a body clearly built more for function than form yet aging well and capable of more than most men half his age. There's beauty as she wraps her fingers around his cock and strokes, beauty as he rests his chest against hers and lets her tease, beauty in the low growls and moans he makes. Nothing like she's used to, but feels like home in the exact same sort of way all the same.

She shifts her hips, sinks down onto him, and is made whole.

She could get used to this, she thinks. She could get used to rolling her hips against his, the comfortable rhythm she finds, one of his hands on the small of her back to steady her and the other between their bodies batting at her clit. She could get used to seeing this body opposite hers, not just the scars but all the other details and minor flaws that make him who he is, get used to seeing it in full glory every day for the rest of her life. She could get used to-

Marcus rolls their bodies almost without warning, and then she's on her back and he's above her and his thrusts are slower and deeper and oh. yes. good. fuck. yes.

Abby closes her eyes and lets bliss wash over her, a different kind than she ever got from her late husband or from her own hand but bliss all the same. Stupid cuddle hormone, she can't help thinking in the midst of her orgasm. This'd better end well or else-

A few more erratic thrusts later, he joins her in post-sex oblivion.

"Well that was-"

"I love you," Abby murmurs. "I definitely love you."

"I love you too."

She knows, in that way without words, how much more those words mean to him than to her. She knows, or at least highly suspects, that they're not a typical post-coital confession for him. And she knows, as she shifts a little to rest her head on his chest, that this is only the beginning for both of them.

"Stay here tonight?" Marcus suggests, leaning forward to kiss the top of her head.

"Leaving would mean having to put clothes back on, and I'm too tired for that," Abby replies, justifying herself even in the aftermath. "So yeah. I'll stay."