Summary: It's a familiar pattern.
Author's Notes: Drabble. AU. General series spoilers. Written for pbhiatus_fic . (and yes, I cheated, there are a few extra words, go figure). All mistakes are mine. These characters, however, are not.
Lincoln’s mouth drops to her shoulder, the soft skin where collarbone meets neck, and her hands curl into the cotton of his shirt as he pins her against the wall. Buttons come undone, lips find lips again, and it’s every bit as angry as it always is, the proverbial fuck you floating between them like an undercurrent.
It’s a familiar pattern and his hand on her thigh pushes the fabric of her skirt up, fingers slipping underneath, teasing.
The line of his grin forms against her mouth and she grins as Gretchen pulls back and away, baring her teeth.
“What are you doing?
“What the fuck does it look like?”
The palms of her hand flatten on his shoulders, shoving him backwards until his knees hit the edge of the bed. Another push and he falls backwards and she laughs as she pulls her shirt over her head.
Climbing above him, she places a thigh on either side of his and reaches for his belt.
“You were taking too long,” she explains at his raised eyebrow, “and I’ve got places to be.”
Pants around his knees, skirt bunched at her waist and he reaches up, tangling his fingers in her hair and pulling her down until her lips meet his so hard he can taste blood.
“Fuck,” he mutters and she slides home easily, fingers tightening their hold as he bucks up into her on reflex.
Her mouth curls with laughter.