Wolfgang is rattled by their first encounter.
He's a fast learner, perceptive and up for a challenge any day. He can adapt to surprises. But for some reason, this interaction has gotten under his skin. And it only took one damn evening to throw him off.
He thinks he might have more questions now than he did when the sensate abilities first took hold and they were all floundering, trying to make something of it.
Maybe it's because he was unprepared for how different this felt. Or because the experience broke through the secure little microcosmos he's been building around his cluster.
Yesterday made the world expand again and it has messed with his head.
All dangerous smiles and sensual confidence, she's pretty much his type. What it used to be anyway, before his intrigue with a certain chemist on a different continent turned into something more, a feeling so deep he doesn't try denying it.
But also something he screwed up before it had a chance to really grow and she ended up with another man. Bullets are a powerful weapon.
Lila Facchini is the opposite end of the personality spectrum. That's not the problem at hand but it bothers the fuck out of him that she caught him off guard. Especially in enemy territory. Turns out he's not on par with literal mind games.
He can guess what she's doing though, suspected from the moment he saw her that she's the cat-and-mouse kind. One that believes she's the predator in the equation and claws at the eyes of the ones who refuse her until they go blind.
Distance would be the obvious choice.
But the sensate part of her is what stumped him. And she's in reach here in Berlin, inhabiting the same world that he does - closer than Jonas may ever be and far easier to find. And she is obviously in the know.
His own attachment to Kala aside, she's got information that could be useful.
Starting with sensate skills that his cluster is still unaware of and ending with contacts that could help them against BPO. She's clearly a believer that knowledge is power, there's no way she wouldn't have found out about the organization, maybe even crossed paths.
Visiting someone outside their own collective in a real tangible form like that, it's different from what has been happening between Will and Whispers. What he can feel second-hand anyway, when the cop allows any of them into his mind these days.
This feeling isn't the same. He wasn't exactly in her head. It's more like a shared space opened up right beside reality, like she'd invited him there. But maybe that was all about the physical closeness.
Is that all there is to it? Can they feel any other sensate that way and if yes, how the hell is she the first he's made contact with in a city of some million people? How deep does it go, could she see the rest of his group through him? Could it work as a way to outsmart the old man hunting them down?
A ton of questions and the cause for them probably also holds the answers he wants. At a price.
She might have expressed interest during their meeting but he doubts she's going to show and tell without getting something out of it. Someone like her, working with Fuchs – not for, there's no way that woman is underhis boot – expects an offering.
Wolfgang's more than aware that this kind of shit is not his forte, how far he is from being spy material. Criminal know-how aside, he's not so delusional to believe that words of manipulation are his thing.
Violence is the only language he's been taught to speak and from his experience, allies don't usually emerge at gunpoint. He's not sure yet if wants her as an ally but either way, she probably won't spill information when threatened.
Sex, on the other hand, he understands. That he could use.
He's barely got a half-assed idea of how to approach this by the time he goes to the club that night, merging into crowds on the dance floor. She wouldn't show up to this joint, even if used to be one of Fuchs'.
He'd place his bets that she's not into sweat-drenched drunk masses. Could ruin the costume she wears to match the steel composure.
Turns out he's not quite wrong. Midnight has barely come and gone when dark nails slide along the back of his hand. He's at the bar in search of another beer and she's not here but her intentions are, shimmering through the black lace dress.
He meets her gaze under the dimmed lights.
"Busy?" she drawls, fingers curling around his wrist to exert phantom pressure on his pulse.
He pulls back and throws some change on the counter, "What do you want?"
"Nothing you don't," she doesn't blink under the flashes passing across their faces, "Sebastian is in Prague for the weekend. He's expecting your answer by the time he returns."
He leans against the bar, a smirk rising, "Right. So he sends you in for more convincing in case we say no. Worried that all that talk about fame and fortune didn't cut it?"
She quirks an eyebrow then, as though she's got something else in mind than money laundering, "I have a proposal."
"Oh yeah?" he takes a swig, glancing over his shoulder to find Felix, "Everything's been said already."
"It'll be worth your time. You know where to find me."
He turns back to find her gone and it feels like his skin burns where she traced a vein up his hand. Sounds like it's as much of an invitation as he's getting. It extends to him alone this time.
Wolfgang returns to the dance floor, lets his partner in crime drag him into the middle as they clink bottles. It's another two shots and a beer later that his curiosity finally gets the better of him. He'll accept the proposition, if only to find out what the hell she was talking about.
The other man knows how to read him at this point so he doesn't bother coming up with a bad excuse, simply shouts over the music that he'll be heading out. They've been friends far too long to need explanations.
Felix peeks at his watch, then yells back that anything before three in the morning is not an acceptable time to bail. He smirks and promises to make it up another day. The last thing he wants is to drag his newly mended brother into this.
He's not sure why he picks up another bottle on his way. Condensation catches on his hand as he walks towards the nearest station. Being drunk around her is risky, it could make him sloppy, but the alcohol is also helping to keep thoughts of a certain cluster-mate at bay.
She's married now, after all. He feels that with his last words to her in that mansion, they've reached a shaky understanding that he won't pursue her as he did. Maybe.
For fuck's sake, he told himself he wouldn't let his thoughts go there.
He downs half the beer before his mind can send him right to her again and looks out the window of the subway, not quite seeing the city he calls home. Gritty, muddled Berlin. The place where you take what you can get before it screws you over.
Sometimes he feels like he's this place made flesh and blood. He belongs here, both East and West, which is why he can't turn away from those like Fuchs. The guys who think they simply own it all, acting like they know the nooks and crannies from their ivory towers.
It's why he doesn't consider any other way than overriding the apartment block's security access with a pocket knife and paper clip in the middle of the night. He can step out of the elevator and knock his fist against the penthouse door with no resistance.
He doesn't ask for permission here.
It should be near impossible but she's wearing even less than during her visit at the club. She clearly was getting ready to sleep, her hair draped loosely around her face and for a split second, it makes her look younger.
A less intimidating femme fatale holding the door open.
Her eyes are still sharp though and they sweep over him in one brief flick of lashes before she turns and saunters back into the flat. Never blinking an eye at how he got into the building to begin with.
He follows, nudging the mahogany shut with his elbow. She hasn't bothered switching on any lights. The sleepless city below brightens the place up just enough. Not that the shadows hide what she expects him to see between the lingerie and robe.
"You're late," she points out, pivoting to face him in the lounge. The moonlight flatters her exposed skin and he's pretty sure she intended it to. He stays at an arm's length.
"You never said when."
The Neapolitan looks at him more closely now, finding the challenge in his words. Her expression turns sly, "But you didn't stay away either. Interested after all?"
"Maybe you have something I want," he says.
Her lips curve upwards at the edges, "Should I be blushing?"
The sixth drink definitely made him reckless, because for some reason he's not finding her gaze intimidating at all. She likes playing games, he knows how to indulge them. He steps past her and slides back the balcony doors, moving onto the terrace.
Perhaps not a camera-free space - he doesn't know Fuchs well enough to judge - but at least less likely to have audio recording.
"You have an offer," he recalls her words, "What's so different this time?"
"Sebastian has foresight. He's thinking on a larger scale than the competition. But he's concerned with sapien problems, that's just what he is. But I have something else in mind. It should interest you and the ones you're connected to."
She appears beside him at the edge of the balcony, carefully measured steps against the granite. It looks like she's in a sharing mood tonight so he stays silent, waiting for the verdict.
"This city is full of potential, perfect for our kind. Put sensates in control and we could be more than all the kings. There would be a collective. We would have enough influence to create a place where the structures serve us instead of the other way around."
There's a nudge at the edge of his consciousness, someone from his cluster has been alerted by his train of thought.
"What for?"
She fixes him with a look that bleeds annoyance, "Playing dumb doesn't suit you, Wolfgang."
He stares right back, finding flecks of hazel in her eyes at this proximity, "You want to break the system - remove the big guys to build a new one where you're in control. Sounds like you're only after the power. So what am I missing?"
"The goal: Security. Community. Are you telling me you never wondered how many there are? What the world could look like if we were gathered together in one spot?"
He doesn't answer because just for a second, he lets that mental picture to take hold. It's unnerving and exciting at the same time to picture it. And he really can. All these people, different clusters sharing knowledge and skills amongst one another, language and cultural barriers becoming secondary. A place where a new way of life would be possible and hiding unnecessary.
Berlin as the playground for people like him to connect.
Lila moves closer, watching the idea sink in with every word she whispers in his ear, "What it might be like not to worry about getting caught for what you are?"
His brow furrows at her tone, but he masks just how close the comment hits to home, "You don't strike me as someone scared."
"When you are reborn, you learn not to allow weakness," she turns to lean her back against the glass barrier separating them from the drop to the pavement, "They exploit it, or take you down if you step out of line. Better to use your fear and turn it into action."
He takes a risk then, hoping that what he reads between the lines isn't wrong, "They… BPO. How did they found out about you? Are they after you?"
"Is that concern I hear?" she smirks at the look he sends her way, but shrugs it off, "They hunt anyone that doesn't cooperate with them."
"That's not an answer."
"Give me one first," she counters, tilting her head in his direction again, "This city could be ours if we want it. All you have to do is what you do best to take care of those who stand in the way. Someone with your talents should be on the winning team."
It's his turn to raise an eyebrow, "You're so sure it will be a victory. But I'm not seeing much of a team here. You plan to take over Berlin with a two-man operation?"
"We're never alone, Wolfgang. I thought you knew that by now."
He scoffs, "Don't act like you know me."
"I know enough. I know where you come from, what you've done to your family and what you are capable of. I know that Bogdanow is a legacy you are denying even though it would serve you. I can see in you what Sebastian does, only that your skills would be wasted on him. The battle is inevitable. Fighting for the sapiens will not give you what you want."
He feels a muscle jump in his jaw, didn't really notice that he was holding that tension until then. Hearing her speak about his heritage strikes a nerve. He shouldn't be surprised that she did her research. As much as she might have heard through rumours and reports, she doesn't know him.
This proposal though - he needs to talk to the others. It's dawning on him that it's not just his decision. This shit could be big.
He's miles away from trusting her but the woman's vision is something different, a whole new pecking order. Taking out the kings is one thing, he doesn't care for any of them - especially now that allegiances have changed. It's a whole other number to establish a new underground to form a stronghold against those like BPO.
He's not leadership material, he does not want to be a fucking politician or a crime lord and he doesn't give a shit about ruling Berlin the way she obviously does. Lila sees herself in that role and he's not buying any altruistic tendencies from her.
If they were to work together, he'd have to be on his toes. But there seems to be a common enemy at the bottom of all this and even if their methods are different, it would be wasted energy to act against each other in the same territory.
She could try to sell him out to Fuchs anytime she desires, when it comes down it. And like he suspected, she has information he wants.
Also, she approached him with this directly. If she had other people on the backburner to make this happen, she wouldn't have laid out the story for him with this coercive story about his talents. She needs him to get to the other kings. The more that realization hits, the more on offense he goes.
"If you're so sure you know what I want," he moves away, pulling out his pack of cigarettes to light up, "You have to find a more convincing reason. This could be a fucking suicide mission."
She presses her lips together at his resistance but gets the subtext, "You have conditions."
One drag, two, and he exhales before he sits on one of the couches on the far side of the balcony.
"I get to be on the same page. I want to know everything on BPO and what you have about sensate connections. And the plan, I'm not walking in blind. I also don't work with people I know nothing about."
"Ah, I see. We have ourselves a little trust issue," she smiles again, all too smugly this time, "You're resenting that you're still in the dark about me."
"Give me twelve hours and I'll even the playing field," he makes a mental note to ask Nomi and the team to find out all they can about this woman the moment he gets out of here. He's going to have to prove himself just as resourceful as her. He's not going to be a puppet.
She looks concerned for a flash but then she follows his footsteps, closing the distance, "Fine. Are we agreed then?"
"Are you accepting the terms?"
Swift fingers ease the cigarette from his hand and she pulls his smoke into her lungs, "Within limits. I might have some of my own. We should discuss those once you've evened the field. I prefer my partners fully committed to the cause before I talk details. But you know, I may have to kill you if you give me the wrong answer."
He decides not to dwell on her last words, his gaze firmly fixed on her face as she flicks the ashes away. Alcohol and his ego are making it sound like a challenge instead of a real threat. What he can't ignore though is her hand that exerts pressure on his chest all of a sudden, pushing him onto his back with a force he didn't expect.
She's straddled his waist before he can make up his mind whether he should tell her to quit it. The robe falls open and her eyes glitter.
"I'll let you in on a secret. The best way to get to know me," she continues, leaning back and rolling her hips against him, "is up close."
This is the interaction he expected to be dealing with, at least. He keeps his eyes steady on hers, giving nothing away while he still has his body under control.
"You always mix business and pleasure?"
"We're not doing business yet," she corrects as her hand wanders under his shirt with no innocence to spare, "Not before I have your answer."
"Tell me one thing," he catches her wrist just over his naval before they cross a line he's already been toeing since she opened the door, "How many in your cluster?"
She looks taken aback for the first time that night, thrown out of context. Her movements cease against his lower body, betraying that she didn't see that one coming. The quiet lasts for a moment, apparently there's a debate as to whether she will allow him that detail as a token of trust.
He wonders if she's somewhere else, speaking with the others and he slides a hand along her exposed spine, his thumb tracing the crease of her hip. Keeping her here.
"How many of you am I sleeping with, Lila?"
Her eyes refocus on him, lust flooding back as she settles her silent conflict. Maybe she actually buys into the idea that this information gets him off more. Either way, she dips down to lick at his lips. The kiss is rough but he responds, matching her movements until she pulls away.
"They're not always participating. Sometimes I want someone all to myself. But when I let them – you get all seven."
With that, she runs her hands back down his body and he senses his belt coming loose under her grip. He's still busy processing the thought that she is able to control when her cluster mates take part in her activities. How the hell? Either she's bluffing or his eight are really still a long way from understanding how they visit.
Then her mouth is on him and his attention diverts, he comes up onto his elbows again. She's almost astonishingly languid in her foreplay, letting her tongue map him out before she takes him completely.
He feels his abdomen tense at the feeling. Her auburn hair is soft when he buries his fingers in it, following the movement of her head. Well fuck, he didn't expect to fall into this so easily. Fooling around in their minds was no match for the real deal.
It also felt far less like a betrayal. He can feel the woman creep into his head even as she's crouched in front of him, a body of creamy skin and taught muscle. She's just as much imaginary hands running over his chest, hot kisses against the back of his neck.
He pulls his shirt over his head with his other hand, too warm in his skin as the blood rushes downwards. She straightens up to her full height soon enough, shedding the robe entirely and resuming her position over his lap.
This time he's ready for it, catching her around the midriff to switch positions before she settles on him. The cushions are under her back in an instant and he makes quick work of her bra. Her response gets lost in the kiss that she presses against his lips.
As their tongues find another, he captures the moans with a hand between her legs, finding the material of her underwear wet as he presses past it. She's been ready a while. Almost like this was the point of the entire meeting. Everything about her is slick heat and she bites his lip when he adds another finger.
Flawless nails are digging into his shoulder when she pulls out of their kiss to fasten the other hand around his arm. He reads the signal guiding him away from her centre and watches her wrap her mouth around the digits. Her eyes close as she sucks on them and he's never going to admit that it makes him harder.
When her eyes open again, he's not sure if it's her he's looking at or one of the other six. There's something different about the gaze, but it's hungry for more as she shifts herself lower, hips rising off the surface to let him pull the final layer of clothing off her.
His mouth follows suit to the lace and she doesn't hold back the sound in her throat. He tastes what she did a moment ago, his own tongue flicking out to explore. He opens his eyes to find her observing, her own hands busy with her breasts while he pays attention elsewhere.
With every motion, she presses just slightly closer to him, gasps just barely longer. The fingers he pushes inside her seem to do the trick, she groans into the darkness between them and he thinks he might like watching her lose control more than finding out what it's like to be inside her.
Lila doesn't let him savour it though. Her grip is hard when she pulls his head back, curling forward to taste the skin along his neck. He doesn't bother resisting but can't repress the shiver down his spine as her mouth hits his pulse. His turns his eyes skyward, staring at satellites overhead as she works her way to his collarbone.
He thinks he feels the prickle of a presence around him, his intuition telling him it's a certain Mexican actor. Another set of fingers is trailing up his thigh to clench around him. A brush of wet skin on skin, a feeling of fullness.
Then her touch is gone and he's in the here and now, where she releases his hair, sliding off the couch. His head follows her to where she circles around him and perches on the table. It occurs to him that this is the opening - he could leave right now. It would be him gaining the upper hand again by leaving her unsatisfied tonight.
But she will find a way to bite back.
And as she hikes her legs up under his gaze, leaning back on the glass surface to expose herself, he throws caution to the wind again. He's too partial to what she's offering. The Neapolitan knows how to use her weapons.
He's between her thighs in a moment and ignores the expectant smirk on her face when he pulls her arms over her head, barely an inch of night air between them. She's complacent this time but her upper body arches against him and he feels her heels cross at the small of his back.
Impatient.
"Come on," she dares him, pupils growing as he looms over her.
He considers stalling as he lets his tongue wander through the valley of her breasts. Leave her in her state of frustration a little longer. But he'd be denying himself just as much at this point. He pushes forward, listening to her hiss of pleasure when he's inside.
He's not gentle from there on out and neither is she, driving her hips against his without pause.
Each one of her motions is a constant reminder that he's never entirely in control. Whether it's her hand on his throat as she rides him, legs clenching around his hips for support or her eyes glued to his as they grow hazy in orgasm, she's not letting a single second be one that he dominates.
Dawn has reached the horizon when he spills into her hand with her reddened lips in his line of sight. She runs her other hand up his chest and curls it around the back of his neck, gentle enough but immovable. Between both their deep breaths and the sheen on their skin, they've given as good as they got.
He's rarely thought of sex as a battle but she's changed his perspective on what's possible in that department. This was as much a fight as it was release. Her face glows in the first touches of light but with their physical separation, she's all business again.
"We'll get dinner, I'll send you an address. Don't be late," she instructs.
He doesn't bother keeping track of her as she retrieves her robe and walks back into the flat. He's been dismissed, that much is obvious. Time elapsed. He waits for his heartbeat return to its normal pace first, taking his time to light a cigarette and watch the sky above change colour.
Has he gotten everything he planned to get out of tonight? He's not so sure. But he hopes she hasn't either.
By the time he shrugs back into his clothing and hits the street, a bizarre mix of feeling drained and newfound energy is settling in. He should probably follow her lead and get to bed as well but instead he grabs a coffee. There's a spot at the river near Felix' place where he knows nobody will physically bother him at this hour.
He's got just over twelve hours to outsmart her and he'll need help.
The bench he finds is deserted but it only takes two steaming sips of caffeine before he can turn and meet several pairs of eyes, waiting to hear the reason they got summoned. Including a particularly handsome man who gives him a shameless wink.
Wolfgang sighs.