thecircus | Music prompt meme!

"And you've known me for longer than five minutes," he says, almost wearily. "This is how I am. I'm not gonna change, and it's pointless to try."

"It's never pointless to try. You don't know what might happen." His tone, if anything, seems to spur her on, her arms wrapped low around his waist now. "Don't you think it might be nice to not be pissy for ten minutes?"

"I wouldn't be pissy if you hadn't come in here on your high horse about what an asshole I am and how that should change," he points out logically, taking another swig of his beer.

"What'd you think would happen?"

Though, to be fair, he's not quite sure how to react to those arms around his middle.

"Like you didn't already know you're an asshole," she mutters, rolling her eye again. "I never said turn into a different person, I just suggested that maybe you relax or at least attempt cursory manners every once in a while."

Molotov smirks, her fingers stroking along his side, and tilts her head to the side. "I'll tell you if you agree to keep being my pet project."

"'Course I know it, doesn't mean you should expect me to act like your buddy when you come in here telling me I'm a friendless asshole," Joel points out with a snort.

But he tucks a lock of hair behind her ear.

"You might have to fight with Tess on that one. I'll keep out of it."

"Well, I don't remember asking you to be my buddy," she retorts. "And please, don't put Tess into battles she can't win. I don't need to be around her. Only you."

For being nicely drunk, Molotov moves fast. She raises her knees onto the bed, crawls forward and straddles his lap, facing him. "I think," she begins slowly, draping her arms over his shoulders, "that you might be less cranky, for one."

He might say something else - Tess has known him for ten years, don't underestimate her, something like that - but then he has a lap full of Molotov and - what was he saying, again?

"I'm not cranky," he points out, setting his bottle of beer aside so it doesn't spill all over his bed. You know, just in case.

She laughs at him, and leans forward to press her forehead to his. "Don't lie, cranky," she murmurs, one hand sliding around his neck to slowly pick the top button of his shirt open. "Maybe you'll perk up from being able to sleep. I bet you smile for once in your life."

"You shouldn't make bets like that, it'll just get you into trouble," he murmurs, not bothering to answer her directly. Smiling, pfft.

He is watching her carefully, though.

"I'll take my chances," she says, grabbing the back of his head and leaning in, letting her lips brush his when she keeps talking. "I like trouble anyway."

She's pulling at the rest of his buttons, flicking them open with a notable increase in speed.

"Mm," is about all he says to that, because she has now thoroughly distracted him, and in retaliation, he catches her mouth in a much deeper kiss, running his hands up her spine.

She rocks into the kiss, biting at his lip before acquiescing. Halfway through his shirt, she just stops to run her hand over his skin instead, fingers brushing through his chest hair and then sliding up to hold his face.

If Joel were inclined to say anything else, he might point out that Molotov could've skipped all the stupid conversation if all she wanted was this.

But that would require he stop kissing her, and he doesn't want to do that, especially when his own hands are up under her shirt now, too, the skin of her back nice and soft.

No, no she couldn't have. She needed to make a point! A point that Joel is a friendless asshole. And also that she is a generous god, bestowing him with booty anyway.

Making a noise into his mouth, Molotov pulls back to quickly yank her shirt over her head, immediately returning to his mouth, his chest, his embrace once she's tossed her blouse to the floor.

As though telling him that would be in any way a surprise, or something he cares about. Pfft.

But, again, with a beautiful woman in his lap, the only thing to do is accept it and maybe roll her over, turning the tables so he can start kissing his way down her chest.

Well, he sure huffed and puffed a lot for not caring.

She stretches out on the bed when he rolls them, arching her back and grabbing at his head with a soft exhale of happiness. She clutches at his hair, his shoulders, bites her lip to keep from smiling too wide as she shifts underneath him.

"You know," he murmurs, looking up at her from the vicinity of her navel after a bit, an amused sort of glance in his eyes, "it's kinda cute you think you need to ply me with beer before a booty call."

Molotov pulls her arms back to prop herself up a bit on her elbows. She's frowning a little, her eyebrow knit as she looks at him. She looks almost childishly disappointed. "I was being nice."

Joel almost smiles a little and gently pinches her in a particularly sensitive spot. "To make up for the lecture about how I'm an asshole with no friends, huh?"

"Well, you are," she mutters, squeaking and wriggling when he pinches her. "I can't help that, you won't let me. So I brought you beer. See how nice I am to you next time."

Slowly, deliberately, he starts moving back up her body, kissing a spot here and there, his beard scratching lightly over her skin.

"Don't need your help," he murmurs, "and I think you're plenty nice already."

And then he kisses her again.

Molotov's pithy retort dies on her lips as he kisses her, her eyelid fluttering closed. She holds the side of his face with one hand and wraps her legs around his hips, thin leggings letting her feel every wrinkle of his pants.

Eventually she can't hold back anymore, and she pulls just an inch or two away to whisper, "No, you definitely need my help." She emphasizes it by rolling her hips against him.

He's getting into it, too - pressing her into the mattress, rolling his hips against her to create some nice friction, enjoying the taste of her on his lips.

"That's a want, not a need," he points out, his voice already low and rough with it. "There's a difference." It's better, as far as he's concerned. It's a choice they're both making.

She laughs, biting at his bottom lip, reciprocating every move he makes.

"Ah, so you want my help," she murmurs, looking pleased with herself and rocking her hips up particularly hard. "Say it, say you want me."

He lets out something like a low growl, from deep in his chest, and runs calloused fingers along her jawline as he kisses her again.

Between kisses, he pauses to murmur, "I. Want. You."

Music prompt meme!

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