trashchildren | For Joan

She laughs a little when he gives in, then hums with pleasure as he starts kissing her again. His clothes are a little more difficult to work around than a hospital gown, but she gets started, sliding her hand down the back of his trousers and his underwear to continue caressing the bare skin of his ass. Mean while she begins to move against him, gently grinding her pelvis against his.

While it would be certainly more practical, a hospital gown would just remind him of the strangeness of the situation and make it weirder, so honestly it's for the best. Now he can just pretend they're in some sort of (very sterile) hotel room. And that for some reason they only got a single bed.

He mirrors her movements, his hand moving down to her ass as well, though he keeps his hand on the outside of her clothes as he pulls her closer. He's not going to be able to take quite as a proactive role as he usually enjoys, given there's a limit to how much he can safely move around, but that's alright.

Having been a doctor, Joan spent much of her young adulthood in hospitals. And while she never had sex in a patient's room, she did have a couple dalliances in the breakrooms where the doctors would take naps when they were on call. So the single bed in a hospital isn't entirely out of her frame of reference.

She's been considering how they're going to do this, knowing that Ted is hurt and likely won't be able to be on top, and Joan doesn't want to risk putting pressure on bad spots if she's on top.

"Would you like me to roll over?" she asks. "So we can spoon and you can enter me from behind?"

The question definitely makes him blush a little bit, but it's partly due to arousal. He licks his lips a bit, considering, looking at the space they've got, and what sort of positions he can actually safely be in.

Thing is, while that is enjoyable and it lets him kiss her neck and use his hands to great effect, for one thing it would mean he'd have to be on his side, which could cause problems, and for another - which is actually more present in his mind right - he'd like to actually see her face.

"How about we just use our hands?" he suggests. That way they could still kiss, and look at each other. And while the same would be difficult for him, she could even probably use her mouth, if she wants to, but he's sure she can reach that conclusion for herself.

She had thought about using her mouth, but it seemed like it would be hard to find a comfortable position on such a narrow bed. But she can understand wanting to be face to face, especially now, when they won't be able to see each other for god knows how long.

"We can do hands," she agrees.

She leans in and kisses him slowly, while slipping her hand down the front of his sweats and cupping him through his boxers.

"Mmm, yup," Ted says, muffled into the kiss, as soon as she cups him. It's been less than a week since last time, but it sure feels like longer, with everything they've been through. And while it makes Ted a little nervous doing it here, those nerves are actually working in his favor right now, making him more excited.

It feels like forever. It also feels so much more immediate, being now or never, leaving-on-a-jet-plane sex. Joan tugs down Ted's sweats and then his boxers, just enough to free his cock. She shifts her position and his, making sure he's comfortable on his back as she lies on her side beside him, head propped up and gazing down into his eyes.

She watches his face for all those little hints of pleasure to guide her, and curls her hand around his cock, starting a slow stroke.

Ted is a pretty expressive person, rarely guarding his emotions unless there's a specific reason to. That becomes even truer during sex, which Joan has definitely learned by now. He is by no means difficult to read. And while he's definitely planning on keeping it quiet, his face easily shows his pleasure.

He gasps a little as her thumb slides across the head of his cock, his breathing quickly becoming more labored, and he arches his head up to catch her in a kiss.

She slides her arm under his head so that he doesn't have to strain to kiss her. He's responding well in particular to her thumb against the head of his cock, so she makes sure to use it here and there, just light brushes to tantalize and tease, until his body can't help but writhe with need, silently begging for release.

It's a good thing his knees aren't as bad as they were yesterday, because he can't stop himself from pushing his hips off the bed a little, yearning for more touch. Nor can he stop himself from letting out small moans and noises of pleasure, no matter how hard he tries.

He pulls back from the kiss, tilting his head back to catch his breath a little, and momentarily closes his eyes, but then forces himself to open them again, so he can look at her. He's already almost there.

She loves seeing him like this, the building pleasure taking over his body. She loves how his body is trying so hard to get a little more friction. She loves his sounds, even though (perhaps especially because) he's trying so hard to keep quiet. He's so close she can feel it, can feel the tension, the desire, the need.

"I love you," she whispers, gazing into those desperate eyes, her stroke quickening. "I want to see you come for me."

It's the first time she's said that during sex, and boy if it doesn't intensify everything. Well, the first part, not the second part. The second part has always been particularly effective, the sound of it going straight to his cock.

He bites his lip in a desperate attempt to keep quiet, a whimper escaping even so, gripping the edge of the bed tightly, his neck arching back as the orgasm rolls through him, sudden and intense.

God, he's so beautiful in the throes of his orgasm, and hearing that whimper makes Joan's ache of arousal between her legs that much more powerful. She slows her movements, gently and slowly stroking him, carrying him through the climax until he moves her hand.

He soon collapses back against the bed, shuddering a little as he puts his hand on hers to stop her, then just lies there for a bit, catching his breath.

After a few moments he props himself up again, and looks down, and, ah. Yeah, he definitely came on his shirt a bit.

"..It's fine, I've got a spare shirt," he says, laughing a little bit. They'll fix that afterwards.

She moves her hand and lies down next to him, just watching him in the afterglow, absolutely loving to see him breathless and sated.

"Yeah, I hoped you would," she says about the shirt. "I figured Beard would have brought you a couple changes of clothes."

Sometimes they plan for these things a little better, like he could've opened his shirt beforehand. Today that sort of stuff is not high on the list of priorities. And it was definitely worth it, as he now feels good all over, which isn't a feeling he's having a lot this week.

"Let's not talk about Beard while we're doing this, alright?" he says with a playful smile. Ted doesn't really want to think about the fact he's right on the other side of that door. Though it helps that he's pretty certain Beard would actually approve of them doing this.

She smiles, amused. "Sorry."

She idly begins unbuttoning his shirt. If they had been thinking, they could have definitely avoided getting semen on his shirt, but she's okay with the fact that they're not necessarily thinking practically right now. Practicality will have it's chance all too soon, when Joan leaves to protect him and they have to playact a breakup. They don't need to be too practical right now.

"How do you want me?" she asks, figuring it a good thing to ask so that they can be mindful of his injuries.

As Joan starts unbuttoning his shirt, he puts a hand on hers to stop her, and instead just reaches for the tissues next to his bed, cleaning off the worst of it instead. While he can't hide the bruises on his face, he doesn't want her to look at the ones on his sides, which are definitely worse. He doesn't want either of them to have to think about that right now.

He hums thoughtfully at the question, adjusting his positioning on the bed, propping up some pillows behind him. After a bit of moving around, he manages to sit up partially on his side, propped up on an elbow to make sure he doesn't put much weight on his ribs, and still able to reach all the areas he needs while she lies next to him.

You'd think this kind of meticulous accommodation would be a mood-killer, but honestly, for him it just shows how eager and determined they are to enjoy each other's company, despite whatever inconvenience.

Before he actually starts touching her, he takes a moment to just look at her. Lying there, hot and bothered, waiting for him, looking at him with affection and still that satisfaction at making him come.

"You're so beautiful," he says softly, smiling gently down at her. "I love you so much."

She gets why he stops her, remembering that his body is still badly bruised, a visual reminder of the hell that he endured. Sure he feels it, but it's not for nothing that injuries often don't hurt much until they're seen.

She watches as he positions himself, and moves to lie down on her back as close to him as possible so that he doesn't have to strain to touch her in all the right places. She looks up at him, her pupils wide, her cheeks flushed, smiling, so happy and so in love.

"I love you too," she answers. "So much."

More than she's ever loved anyone.

He puts a hand on her cheek and leans down to kiss her, softly at first, then deeper. He lets his hand wander, down her neck, trailing finger tips across her collarbone, down her side, tugging at her shirt a little so he can slip his hand inside it, up to grasp her breast, not minding that it's still inside a bra.

For a while he just explores her body like this with his hand, and he'd gladly touch every inch of her if he could, intentionally being a little bit slow, just to build up that need over time. Reaching over to grasp her ass, then around her hips and to the inside of her thigh. He pulls back a little from the kiss, just as he presses up the heel of his palm up against her crotch, but still on the outside of her pants.

She kisses him deeply, his slow hand doing an excellent job of steadily fanning the flames of her growing need. She moans softly when he touches her breast, and a little less softly when he touches her ass. Then she gasps as his palm presses between her legs, her hips yearning upward, her body so desperate for that sensation.

"That feels good," she whispers, looking up at him.

"Yeah?" he answers, smiling at the way she arches upwards as he rubs his palm against her. Touching her quite firmly, but the sensation dulled by the layer of clothing in between. "You want more of that?" he asks, his voice a deep, quiet hum.

Joan moans softly as he continues to rub her through her clothes, her hips flexing. "Yeah," she answers, already a little breathless. When he asks if she wants more she smiles. "I want you to touch me," she murmurs. Her smile deepens. "I love it when you touch me."

"Good thing I love touching you," he answers, leaning down to give her another kiss, just for a bit as he moves his hand to run his fingers just inside the lining of her pants. He tugs gently at the button at the front, and then nods down at it as a request. He's not going to waste time trying to open it one-handed.

"Good thing," she agrees with a smile, and hums into the kiss, touching his cheek. His touch along her abdomen sends a slight shiver through her. When he tugs at her button she gets the message and reaches down to unbutton and unzip her fly, and lowers her pants off her hips just a little to make it easier for his hand to slide under her underwear and between her legs.

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