without_hesitation | (no subject)

In the past month, balancing the entrance of two young girls into his life has turned everything on the side for Sawyer. Even though both girls are a hell of a lot less fussy than he expected from kids their age, Sawyer finds himself panicking at every possible turn, wondering if he isn't attentive enough, if he's missed some need of theirs, and staying up long hours trying to sort his budget and make sure everyone's well cared for.

Still, for the time being, Sawyer's surprisingly finding that he wouldn't trade it for the world.

He's in the process of trying to clean Clementine's face up after a snack of rice cereal when he hears a knock on the door, and quickly lifts her in his arms as he approaches, brows furrowed. As soon as it's clear who's waiting outside, however, he relaxes easily, an apologetic smile already on his lips as he opens the door.

"Ilithyia, hey," he greets softly, before nudging the door back with his heel. Clementine fixes her gaze on the woman immediately, and then on the child in her arms, silent but eyes wide. "You wanna come in?"

"Gratitude," she says, smiling upon sight of him with child in arms. In Rome, it was often rare to see men carrying their children, especially men of status and Ilithyia finds such sight heartening in some manner, yet one more thing she does not want to explore when it comes to Sawyer. She enters the apartment as she does most rooms, sweeping inside, her gown floating in the air behind her for a moment before it settles once more.

Albinius, regularly a quiet child, has gone exceptionally quiet at the sight of Clementine in Sawyer's arms, before he begins to babble a string of sounds Ilithyia thinks are quite near to sounding as words. "And it appears as though Albinius would like to greet you as well."

Sawyer laughs when Albinius suddenly lets out an unintelligible series of sounds, the sound of them making Clementine tense in his arms. "Well, hello to you too, little man," he says with a smirk of appreciation, before reaching to close the door behind the both of them. "Make yourselves comfortable. Couch is clean, dining table is... a little less so. I think Clementine got the idea in her head to try painting the rice mush all over her seat."

He walks into the kitchen, ripping off a paper towel and running it under some water before cleaning off the rest of the mess on Clementine's face. She shudders, squeezing her eyes shut and trying to lean away from the touch, letting out a sigh when Sawyer pulls away at last.

"Feels like I haven't seen you in forever. How've you been?" Sawyer asks, coming back around with Clementine and making his way to Ilithyia's side. It isn't too often that Clementine gets to be around another kid about her age, and Sawyer's already starting to try and make the most of the opportunity. She lets out a cry and waves an arm in Albinius' direction.

"I've been well," she says, aware as she says them that words falling from tongue are not truth. There is what happened to all of them in Capua, memories she would do well to forget and cannot, and there is the actions that have been taken against the Lobos. Many of the men she had worked hard to manipulate into a position where she was comparable to that of Caesar are now dead and she has spent many days trying to think of another way in which she can return to a level of power, though there seems little to be done but start over.

It makes her furious, even moreso than the decisions she had made in Capua.

"And yourself? Settling into fatherhood?" she asks with a smile, turning to rest her fingers upon his arm when he draws near. She has missed the touch of him, yet one more thing she feels is important she not lend voice.

He stares for Ilithyia for a while longer during her answer. Sawyer can't claim to ever have had quite enough of a grasp on her reactions to know whether or not she means it in earnest, but something about the answer feels... simplified. Well for some definition of well that she won't let him read.

But Sawyer understands that giving up that level of vulnerability isn't Ilithyia's style.

Instead, he smiles faintly at the touch on his arm, then leans forward to press a kiss against her lips. Probably not the most standard of greetings, but it's not like either kid's quite old enough to have any worries about it, he thinks. Only afterwards does he give Albinius the barest of doubtful glances.

"Been settlin' into something," he admits with a sigh, bouncing Cleo slightly on his hip, who continues to let her gaze hover between mother and son, lingering a little longer on Ilithyia's golden curls. "Let me tell you, it's been a hell of a time tryin' to make a living for half the day and coming back to make sure this one doesn't forget me the second half. I haven't been out drinkin' in... hell, since she arrived."

"There are those who would watch your child for barely what one might call a fee should you desire a night off," she points out, her gaze flickering over him after she's leaned into his kiss. The smell of him has become familiar to her, desirable, and her hand lingers upon him for yet a moment longer. There is little reason for her to pretend she does not desire him when such feelings have been made clear for some time now. What she needs to keep from him is the extent to which he has changed her.

Though perhaps Capua was enough of an indication of such.

"There are few I would trust with my child and I've found a young woman who does well with Albinius," she says. "I would be willing to share her name with you." She smiles, as if sharing some great secret, teasing. "But only you. And only should you spend your free night with me."

"My regular sitter's already helpin' me practically for free. I gotta force the money into his hands, else he doesn't take it," Sawyer says with a slight huff of laughter. It's baffling enough that it distracts him momentarily from the shine of Ilithyia's hair, from the sharp curve of her smile, eyes intent. Knowing about Naruto's background gives him an idea of why Naruto tries so hard.

Even if the same sort of loss pushed Sawyer in the opposite direction for years.

Carefully making sure that Clementine's safe and secure by his side, Sawyer leans forward for a more lingering kiss, letting the tip of his nose follow along the curve of Ilithyia's cheek. It's been so easy to ignore all of his other desires while wrapped up in caring for Clementine, but now that Ilithyia's in front of him again, all that missed time vanishes from between them.

"If you wanted a night, though, you only had to ask," he murmurs softly.

"Was request not clear?" she asks, shifting Albinius carefully, tucking him against her hip. Her tone is still light, teasing, but free hand slips off Sawyer's arm and settles against the front of his pants, pressing against him through material she still has little understanding off. Cupping him, she smiles again, head tilted slightly, hair curling over the edge of her shoulder.

"I would very much enjoy a night," she tells him before pressing forward for another kiss. Ilithyia believes, completely, in the necessity of time away from being a parent. Though she loves her son as she loves no one else, as she thought herself incapable of loving anything, there are times when she needs to return to herself. Be at least part of the woman she had been in Rome.

Sawyer's lips part at once when Ilithyia's palm presses against his body; he can't decide if there should be encouragement or reluctance on his lips. Gradually, his eyes relax into a faintly lidded state, watching the way that the light falls upon Ilithyia's skin; even the paltry incandescence gives her the look of fired gold.

Of course, it doesn't take his attention entirely away from the squirming baby in his arm.

"Okay, how does this work?" Sawyer asks, his eyes wider as he arches hips up to press himself against Ilithyia's hand, the ache in his body reminding him of how long it's been since he's had any meaningful time to himself.

Or with other people.

"Do kids stay quiet for stuff like this?" he jokes, clearing his throat and swallowing thickly.

It is exactly response Ilithyia has been craving and she smiles slowly, pressing one more kiss to Sawyer's lower lip when they part. In Rome, she would have handed Albinius off to her body slave should she need time away, but in Darrow it is more difficult. She has yet to learn the names of everything required for child care, but a playpen has been saviour more than once and is one item she has learned.

"Does Clementine have a playpen?" she asks, responding to the arch of his hips with a slow, carefully measured shift of her hand. The children may not stay quiet, they may be interrupted, but the chance of that happening seems little reason not to, at the very least, try.

Edited 2014-03-14 00:16 (UTC)

Sawyer's used to the idea of Ilithyia getting what she wants. Hell, he can't even begrudge the smile that stretches across her expression, even if he's never been precisely sure what he is to her. She comes around, sometimes completely of her own will and desire. She protects him when he's dropped suddenly into the danger of her world. She cares in some capacity, and... he finds himself drawn to that, and constantly lost in the golden locks that cascade over her shoulders.

"Her playpen's in my room," he says wryly, raising his brow. Of course, it isn't too hard to move the playpen out into the living room or simply out of the bedroom. He can't help but wonder if the kids are even old enough to retain any sort of memory about their parents spending time together. Probably not.

"Maybe I should leave her in the crib, though. Unless you think Al won't smack an arm into her."

"They will be fine," she assures him, because although she has learned that children require constant care, she has learned, too, that they are sometimes quite content to be left on their own. So long as they are safe, she sees little reason not to do such here. "It is not as if we are leaving them alone in your apartment or mine." And yet she's done so in the past. For barely a moment, perhaps, but she sees little reason to truly worry when Albinius is asleep, should she need to walk down the hall for some reason.

"And should they need us, they will find a way in which to let us," she adds with a sly smile. "My child has not exactly forgotten how to cry when he most desires my presence."

Even though the idea of keeping himself otherwise occupied while Clementine's awake in her pen still makes Sawyer's abdomen seize with tension, there's a part of him that also realizes he needs to learn how to strike a balance. While he may not be the kind of parent that goes around monopolizing every conversation with stories about his daughter — and hell, he prays he doesn't become that person — there's still the fact that Sawyer hasn't made time for himself at all since her arrival. Aside from the odd drink here or there, everything's revolved around getting back to her.

Throwing caution to the wind, Sawyer raises a hand up again to thread through Ilithyia's hair, groaning slightly against her mouth and cutting off that mischievous smile. Fine. Damn. She can have what she wants.

It's not like he's ever really been able to deny her.

"Fine," he breathes, nudging his nose against her temple and inhaling gently. "Fine, let's get them in the pen. You're damned impossible, you know that?"

Her smile only grows at his words and she pulls back enough to see his face, though not far enough to untangle hand from hair. She enjoys hold he has on her, encourages it with slight twist of her head, enjoying the gentle tug. "Would you have me any other way?" she asks, quite delighted by what he's said to her.

Ilithyia has made a life of being difficult for all sorts of men, not the least those she has taken to bed. That she cares for Sawyer more than she cares for most people does not exempt him from such.

"Come," she says, pressing her lips to the curve of his cheek, then the corner of his mouth. "Show me where to set them down."

His eyes narrow slightly at her question, choosing not to reveal his answer. That his mind's been traitorous enough in recent years. Sometimes he curses those years he spent on the Island with Juliet for the way that they've prepared him to look towards the distant future. Having Clementine around doesn't help. Sawyer finds himself wondering what kind of life she's going to grow up having, what people Clementine will have around to support her.

It's hard, when his mother was the cornerstone in his own life, not to wonder how Clementine will end up hurting in not having one.

Ilithyia isn't the first person he thinks about in that position, but her face turns up often enough, in dreams both conscious and subconscious.

"No, I wouldn't," he says anyway, leaning forward to nip at Ilithyia's earlobe before standing, taking the lead in walking towards his room. He pushes open the door, Clementine's head bobbing slightly as she glances around, revealing the pen at the back corner of the room. "Don't think I feel comfortable... with her in the room, so maybe we tug it out to the hall."

She follows with Albinius in her arms, watching as Sawyer moves through the hall ahead of her. Affection for him is unmistakable, though she tries not to focus on such for very long, knowing her own tendency to become bored, to seek thrill when none is present. She wonders, briefly, what Sawyer might think of her involvements with the Lobos, what he might say to the activities she finds herself involved with.

"Whatever you think best," she agrees when he speaks, knowing the time he comes from has much different attitudes of sex. She had learned as much early on in her time in Darrow and though she sees little reason for such embarrassment over required and enjoyable act, she does little to combat such views. Her time is one that is very different, she understands.

Clementine makes a face as she's jostled around by Sawyer's movement, letting out a huff when he picks up the pen with his free hand and carries it out of the door. Perhaps sensing too much shifting in too short a period of time, she starts to whimper, drawing Sawyer's attention back to her with an apologetic look. "Oh hey, baby, don't cry," he murmurs, brow knit as he presses a quick kiss to her forehead. "You're gonna play with Albinius here, okay? Gotta learn early how to charm the boys, isn't that right?"

He raises her above his shoulders, then dips down slightly, repeating the motion until she smiles, and takes the opportunity to start to lower her into the pen.

"Sorry," he apologizes, glancing over his shoulder at Ilithyia. He's not quite sure which of them he's apologizing to, though. Seems like everyone deserves to have a little more of his attention than they currently do.

Albinius is quiet as Ilithyia lowers him into pen and he looks curiously at Sawyer's daughter for a moment before he smiles. A few strings of syllables escape before he reaches for his own foot, as if showing it to her. "It seems as though they've made fast friends," Ilithyia comments, then steps closer to Sawyer. Hands slide over his hips, body pressed against his and she tilts head back to gaze up at him.

"Apologies are unnecessary. I would not have breath wasted on such words when there are others I would much rather hear," she says as her hands make path up the expanse of his back, over broad muscles until she can bury the fingers of both hands in his hair. She knows what she wants of him, she knows, too, the constraints put upon a parent and unlike Sawyer, Ilithyia has wealth supplied to her in ways which means she can avoid having to work in the same manner he does. There is little he needs to apologize to her for.

Spotting Albinius beside her in the pen, Clementine freezes for a few moments before letting out a pleased little shriek, pulling her legs closer to her hands, as though trying to rock to that same sitting position. Not quite strong enough to balance herself accordingly, she continues to kick her feet, hardly noticing as Sawyer slides the door mostly shut, only keeping a crack open in the case of accident or emergency.

She sound of Ilithyia's voice against his ear draws him to her, arms swiftly wrapping around her as he buries his nose against the crook of her neck. He allows himself only a few seconds' reprieve before he ducks down and picks Ilithyia quickly off of her feet, carrying her neatly to his bed.

"And how long have you been waitin' to hear those words, huh?" he growls, drawing a neat line down the curve of her spine once he's set her down, then drawing it forward across the cut of her hip.

"Too long," she says with laughter when he lifts her from floor. Beneath her, the bed is soft and she stretches out upon it before reaching for clasps of her gown, leaving material draped over her frame and yet easily removed when he chooses to take it from her. He is a new father, she understands anxieties that accompany such a moment in a man's life, especially without the child's mother to assist, and Ilithyia is beginning to think she should have come over sooner. That Sawyer needs not only release, but to allow himself to enjoy the time without worry.

A skill she is more than happy to share with him.

Her fingers slide under his shirt before falling to his belt and though she has had little experience with such garments in the past, Darrow has given her many lessons and she manages to undo his pants with little effort.

There's something about the aesthetic of Ilithyia that never grows old. Couldn't have, in the first place, with her passing through his fingers like quicksilver. She's there when he needs it, but a free enough spirit that he doesn't want to tie her down. Couldn't imagine trying to control her in any way. He's content to let her do as she pleases, and content to be at her whim when he has the urge to grab on and tug imploringly at her wrist.

She's beautiful laid out under him, and his hands pass reverently along her curves, fingertips skating over fine cloth. Teasing in contrast to the surety of her hands as she undoes his pants.

"Hell," he breathes, dropping down to mouth at the hollow of her neck, gently nipping at her skin with his teeth. "You never waste time, do you?"

But he's feeling indulgent now, a sudden shift as he draws his hand up along her body, thumb finding the curve of her breast and drawing slowly up, as though committing her fully to memory.

"Not when it is truly a waste," she answers, back arched at the press of hi teeth against her skin. A shiver runs down the length of her body and hand slides into his pants, palm pressed against the hardness of his cock. "We often have less time than we imagine. I would take advantage of what I have been given."

Though she does not understand entirely how it works, Spartacus has told her things of home she cannot deny feel true. There is death in her future. Perhaps in that of her child's, too, and she sees little reason not to hold onto those things she desires while she still draws breath.

"I want you inside me," she says, pulling back to look at him. "And so I will have it."

"I guess I can understand that," Sawyer breathes, though her words put a momentary furrow in his brow. Less time than they would imagine. Hell, that seems to be the punchline to his entire life. People who are resilient, who have already beat the odds, who are smart and talented and willing to climb tooth and nail to survive, taken away from him in an instant.

It seems awfully unfair sometimes that he's the one who's survived it all. Him, someone who rarely appreciates the time, who whiles away the seconds. A tightness winds in his chest, and with a soft growl, Sawyer shifts his body further over Ilithyia's, hips arched against the press of her hand. His hand winds around Ilithyia's waist, one elbow pressed against her pillow as he leans down to capture her lip between his teeth.

"You ain't gonna hear any complaints from me," he murmurs between kisses. "Missed this. Missed you."

The scent of him is familiar, desirable and Ilithyia breathes deep of him, sliding her hand down the expanse of his back, fingers curving under the hem of his shirt. She would have more of his skin, more of him and she sees little reason to hide her desire. Sawyer knows she wants him, he knows how she feels about him and it is something she feels for few others. There is desire, of course, but there is trust as well. Rare for Ilithyia and not something she will admit to.

"I missed you as well," she agrees, her lips brushing the shell of his ear, teeth grazing against sensitive skin. "I will not wait nearly as long for our next encounter."

Sawyer's fairly sure that there will never be anyone Ilithyia looks out for half as much as she does herself and her son. That her love is for herself and her own, and that it's not territory that even he can easily encroach on. But in moments like this, with her skin shifting under him and laughter on her breath, he can't help but wonder. Wonder where her emotions lie, wonder how her heart feels, wonder if there's a chance that he's simply overlooked. His own emotions aren't half as difficult to parse.

Accepting them had been difficult, but much like the tilt of a scale, he doesn't see himself retreating from them.

"Good," he growls, pressing himself against her hip, loath to pull away even for the sake of reaching for protection. "Hell, Ilithyia. I really..."

He lets his voice trail off. It might not be the right time to step forward with admissions. Too selfish, when he's sure he's the only one who would benefit from the words being out in the air. Instead, he ducks down to suck at the sensitive skin by her pulse point, gasping as he stretches his fingers across her back, pressing her flush against his body.

Sure hands work to rid Sawyer of his shirt before she presses herself against him once more, head tipped to the side as she feels press of his lips against her skin. Though far from the only man she has been intimate with in Darrow, this is the only bed where she finds herself without competition. There is no need to manipulate him to get what she wants, no benefit to having him beyond pleasure and connection and though Ilithyia has always enjoyed men, the act of sex without motive has been rare for her.

And yet she finds it here with Sawyer. Leg hooked around his, she arches up against him, the press of him hard against her hip pulling a soft moan from between lips. "I want you," she says, voice low, lips pressed to the skin behind his ear, then down the side of his throat, feeling his pulse briefly against her mouth. "From the moment I saw you in the hall with your catch that day, I have wanted you."

He shivers at the brush of her words against his ear, against his neck. Shivers from the way that they seem to touch something deeper than that, allaying the ache that's been caught in his chest and in his throat since the moment he entered Darrow. It's hard to push past the slight wave of guilt that lingers in his stomach, but it's also impossible to ignore the fervor of what he feels for her, what he feels for this woman in his arms. When he wraps his arm around her waist, it's with the faith in her strength, and with the desperation of wanting her closer than he trusts himself to keep her.

"I want you, too," he murmurs, brushing one hand gently up her outer thigh, teasing even as he continues to rock against her body. "Hell, even when I couldn't figure out why you were watchin' me that day, I couldn't stop thinking about you. Still can't." His kisses begin to trail down the side of her neck, across her collarbone, until he presses his lips down the center of her chest.

"I love you, Ilithyia."

Those are not words she expects to hear and for a moment, she finds herself at a loss. It is rare for Ilithyia to not have a response, even to words such as these, if only because she is often maneuvering people, shifting them until they line up in the way she desires. But there is little manipulation here, only impulse to have needs met and she has found herself growing attached to Sawyer as well.

But love. Such emotions are something else entirely. Ilithyia loves her son and she loved her father, but there are few others who have managed to stir such feeling in her. Yet she does care for him and there is little harm in uttering words to a man who cares for her.

"You have my love as well," she murmurs, arching toward his mouth. Whether it is true or not, she cannot discern at this moment, not when she wants to have him inside her.

It stuns Sawyer, if he's honest. While he had been hopeful enough that his words wouldn't drive Ilithyia away, he's not expecting to hear them echoed from a woman so careful and ambitious that he can't imagine her throwing anything so sentimental out in the heat of passion. For a few seconds, he can't decide how to react, eyes searching for any hint in her eyes, but for the moment they're indiscernible.

A second later, she closes the space, and Sawyer loses himself in the soft press of her lips. The ache that arches her body against his. His teeth nip softly at her mouth between gasps for breath, and Sawyer reaches back into his pocket for the condom before shifting a few times to kick his pants off the bed.

Maybe it's a touch clumsier than the last time they were together. It feels long enough that he's forgotten some of the smaller details. The way her hair curls at the nape of her neck. The flush that rises on her skin. The neat line down the small of her back where he can feel the curve of her spine.

"'lithyia," he breathes, raising himself onto his knees with a parting kiss before impatiently tearing open the packet.