Written on Tumblr as part of an on-going attempt to write one one-shot a day to get me into a writing habit. This was written following a comment by The Stinky Foot over a lack of Finnceline, so I decided to give us some more Finnceline-y goodness.

Disclaimer: You be knowing the drill, yo. I don't own anything I don't own. (Circular logic, is there anything you can't handle?)

...

The early night just between when she woke up and Finn had to go to sleep had lately become part of Marceline's favorite time, and sometimes she just resented that he had to go to sleep at all or that the sun was enough of a nuisance to make her stay away in the daylight hours, but she knew better than to dwell too long on regrets and problems; she flew away from such things on the golden notes that poured from the meetings of her fingers and guitar strings, and she flew ever higher and faster from them when it was the touch of her fingers on the skin of a loved one.

Marceline had lived long and hard, disdaining the traditions of her kind towards gloominess and misery and instituting her own favored ways of loving every moment of her eternal existence, making every memory a testament to her own joy however she could, and love was the sweetest of things she had laid claim to; she'd earned her share of lovers and friends over the years, names and faces imprinted sweetly and brilliantly on her mind, and she could hardly not grin at the thought that the latest and sweetest of them all came with blonde hair and snaggled teeth and was just so much fun.

The bark of the tree branch on the treehouse she had given to him as a gift (the first of many even when he didn't know they were gifts and the best gift was the gift of letting him know her) was pleasantly firm on her backside, scrunched as she and Finn were into the part of the branch where it met the trunk, a tough but comfortably worn wall for their own life-hardened bodies to rest against, and she had him pinned to her side with a single arm thrown around his neck and shoulder and dragging him in, and the feel of his hair poking out from a bear-hat slipped askew prickled in all the right ways on her neck, just shy of too-tender bite marks on her shoulder-

Finn squirmed and snorted, trying with all his might to work his way loose of her, head constantly wiggling against the immovable object that was her arm and side and she just laughed and laugh, too delighted at his stubborn resistance to make it worse for him just yet. "Marcie," He growled, and that was definitely one of the better names she'd been given, one of the few she honestly loved like a new treasure kept close when no one could see it. "Let me go!"

"Nuh uh!" Marceline said, grinning so widely she couldn't even feel her fangs tickling her lips anymore, and she loved the feel of her skin on his skin, warmth and pulse and sheer dynamic life just under her and so free for the taking and in spite of his protests she knew it would be given willingly and that just gave her a bout of the giggles. "You're mine now and you ain't getting loose ever, just get used to it!" She cackled again and gave him a squeeze just hard enough to crush the air out of his lungs and elict a brief squeak from him, letting him know who was in charge her, who had all the power.

She moved at just the wrong moment, thoguh, and when she moved he was wriggling in just the right way and her arm slid up right over his chin, and before she could do anything more than utter a small noise of surprise (somewhere between a grunt and a growl, so brief she was barely even aware of saying it) and Finn scooted back with all his might, sleeping free of her grasp, that single moment of sheer luck enough to get him loose from her and he slammd into the trunk, cheeks blooming with color and sweat turning his face slick and he wasn't even trying not to grin at her, smug and sly and knowing he'd just pulled one over on her. "Don't have to get used to it when I'm this awesome," he said, crossing his arms and smirking, adjusting his hat a moment later.

Marceline gawked at him, half-disbelieving that he'd actually pulled that off, and then she grinned at him, teeth sharp and long as only a vampire's in the height of a aggressive mood could be. Finn had the experience to shift back a little, a prey animal fully in the grasp of the apex predator and knowing it. "I'm still more awesome than you," Marceline said, and then in the space of time it took for Finn to blink a stray hair that had fallen from Marceline's own immense mane into his face, she pounced,

He was already against the tree so she didn't have far to go; just a short powerful leap, shoving her body into him without enough force to knock the wind out of him again and then pulling back (as much as an increasingly more dominant part her demanded to stay there and take advantage), floating just enough into the air for her to lay her knees over his and rest there, towering over him even more than usual and smirking, her hands grabbing his wrists before he could even make a move and holding them so tightly he couldn't move but not so tight that it hurt.

Their eyes met, steady and strong; her eyes fierce and blue-green, his eyes no less fierce but more an open shade of blue, direct and forthright and quite plainly stating that he was absolutely not going to give up on this or anything, ever. Marceline grinnned even wider at that, delighting in that particular sensation of her teeth instinctively sharpening and growing longer (and it was a tribute to Finn that his sole reaction was a faint interest as opposed to the gutsplattering terror most beings naturally had, particularily as he was what vampires were supposed to eat in the normal scheme of tihngs) and she suddenly darted forward, one hand snapping away from Finn to pull the hat off his head in a single lightning-quick movement.

Time stood still for her, in several brief moments. His hat in her hand and his hair flapping freely from underneath, cornsilk-yellow and shining with that almost golden brightness particular to him and so thick and wavy she just wanted to bury her hands in it and sniff it and never stop (and holy Glob, she realized, she was daydreaming about sniffing his hair, she'd turned into a total weenie). His face, so shamelessly open and still so innocent even after everything he'd been through, lips open just wide enough to be perfectly kissable and damn it he didn't even know what he did to her just by gaping. Herself, head plunging through that thick hair to press her lips against the warm softness of his forehead, a brief flush pulsing in her mouth before she pulled away, and the kiss there was too long to be merely flirting or teasing as she'd done plenty of times with him, but something precious and good and so very much something she wanted all for herself.

Perfect moments end too quickly; she parted, lips producing a faint and regretful sound as she moved away, his taste still fresh on her lips (and damn it she still wanted more), and a quick mid-air movement, a slight adjustment to her floating and a quick landing, and then she was sitting right next to Finn on the branch, her hips flush with where his legs met his backside and her arm around his shoulder again but more companionably this time, her hair fanning out and curled around him posessesively.

There was another too-brief moment of them both just sitting there together, Finn bewildered for a moment as he tried to catch up with current events. Marceline, sitting so close to him, his every movement like a screaming call to her skin, felt him turn his head to look up at her, and he said nothing, but she knew he was smiling. Her eyes glanced, knowing and still with a touch of vulnurability that she dared not show him so nakedly, and she saw that he was smiling. She smiled in turn, not a smirk or grin but an honest smile, and the warmth that a nervous lick confirmed still kept her lips flushed made the smile warmer than usual for her. "It's cool," Marceline said, jamming his hat back onto his head. "Awesome people like us totally deserve each other."

He smiled up at her. "Yeah," He said, a faint hint of pink still on his cheeks, so enticing she couldn't help but lean down and kiss him again, this time on the nose, and pulling away she struck again, kissing him briefly but fiercely on the lips, the whole of their mouths making complet and perfect contact for just long enough for his heat to streak into her like lightning hitting home, his mouth to soften against her and a part of her just couldn't believe how right he felt-

Another small noise from her, this time between a growl and a moan, soft and sweet and short, and she pulled away, slowly and reluctantly and feeling like the air around her had turned into sweet shades pouring right through her skin until everything felt golden and good forever.

She leaned forward, her forehead resting against his, their respective and much impressive hair seamlessly coming together. His eyes, bright with the intensity of his bewilderment buried under the pleasure at all this no matter how confusing it was, looked right into her, and she felt his skin slide when he smiled at her. "You know something?" She asked him quietly. "You really do taste sweet."

She hugged him then, tightly and strongly and almost ashamed of the weakness inherent in needing him this badly , and then none of that mattered when he hugged her back and made her skin tingle wonderfully at his touch and all she could do was hug even him tighter.

It was good to find something that felt so right, and she knew that she simply had to keep him with her.