AN #1: This story is a Secret Santa gift for refisher and her prompt "Training session". It's sort of a child from two story ideas that merged into one. xD I'd also like to point out that this is my first NSFW piece for this couple, so excuse flaily!me. -_-
Disclaimer: I own neither the show nor the characters. I don't earn any money with this piece. I just do it for fun.
AN #2: Thank you so much for all the positive revewis/comments and alerts on 'Burning Deep Inside My Veins'. I never expected it and you have no idea how happy it made me. :) Though it was never supposed to be more than an one-shot, I'm working on expanding it. We shall see. :D
Dawn is slowly approaching when she finally finds him on one of the lower roofs. It's one of the few not used as a watch tower by the rebels, too secluded and not high enough, but that's exactly why he's here. With a sigh, Charlie shuts the door behind her and leans back against it, her eyes never leaving the figure sitting slumped against the remains of a wall a few feet away.
("I am trying," Charlie snarls at him through clenched teeth before charging at him once more - only to end up on her back again, the wind knocked out of her and the point of his sword resting on her chest. His face appears above her, a mocking gleam dancing in his eyes and that annoying smirk on his lips. "Try harder," Miles tells her and turns away from her. "This isn't one of your little tea parties, kid. Militia won't welcome you with cookies and cake."
Something snaps inside her at the taunting tone, the strain of never-ending verbal and physical hits finally sending her over the edge, and she's on her feet before she's even realized it, moving effortlessly across the floor, no stumbling, no uncertainty this time, she's acting on instinct alone, just like Miles had wanted.)
His arms are folded loosely on top of his bent legs, a half-empty bottle dangling from his fingers, and somehow, it doesn't really surprise her that he's drinking. Miles tilts his head back and takes another swig before letting his arm fall back onto his raised knees, the clear liquid sloshing back and forth inside the bottle.
(Attacking, blocking, feinting – the moves she's been attempting to master for days are coming to her easily now. Neither of them is holding back, Charlie strikes and the blade of her sword misses his chest by mere inches. Miles narrows his eyes at her as she flashes him a smug grin but then her eyes widen in alarm as he lunges at her with full speed.
Crashing into her, he seizes her hair and yanks hard. Charlie cries out, tears springing to her eyes, and her grip slackens on her sword involuntarily. It's what Miles has been waiting for. He knocks it from her hand and in a blur of motion – too fast for her to counter – he twists them around and pins her against one of the stone pillars, cold steel catching her under the throat.)
Rumpled clothes, disheveled hair and dark circles under his eyes – he looks as if he hasn't slept in days but she knows better, knows that he'd been fine just a few hours ago. The man back then is no longer the man she's seeing now and something twists inside her chest, her arms dropping back to her side as she pushes away from the door.
She won't let him deal with this on his own, she's part of it too and has a right to make her own decision – even if it's going to be the wrong one in the eyes of other people.
(They're both panting heavily and his warm breath ghosts over her face as he leans in, hazel eyes boring into green ones. Her hands come up to shove against his chest but he doesn't budge and she growls in frustration.
"What?" Miles asks, raising an eyebrow in false innocence. "Charlie, there are no rules in this war. Anything goes." The death glare she shoots him doesn't impress him at all if his chuckle is any indication.)
Somewhere down the road, her feelings for him had started to change, from their tentative family-bond to something entirely else – and it's definitely wrong, forbidden, taboo. She wants him in a way that a niece shouldn't want her uncle.
She'd hidden her inner turmoil behind a wide smile and though attitude, but in recent weeks and especially after Philadelphia, it'd become increasingly difficult. Once or twice she'd almost slipped up – holding his gaze for a second too long or touching him when it wasn't really necessary, but Miles had never called her on it, had never given any sign that he felt the same about her.
Until last night.
(He wants to fight dirty? Fine, she thinks grimly, curls her fingers into his shirt and jerks her knee up. With a rather colorful curse, Miles tosses his sword aside to grip her shoulders and push her away as he hastily angles his body to keep her knee from impacting. Charlie doesn't hesitate, tries again but this time he's prepared, forces her back against the stone, slides a knee between hers, and if she had moved to the left, it wouldn't have happened, but she shifts to the the other side, and suddenly his leg is pressing right between her thighs.
Her body arches without her permission and she chokes on her breath. Miles swears again, for another reason altogether, drops his forehead to her shoulder, fingers closing around her hips, tight enough to leave bruises, and his ragged breathing against her skin sends another shiver through her.)
"Miles?" She asks softly. "We should talk-"
"Talk? You wanna talk?" The sharp tone of his voice cuts through the air like a knife and she flinches, despite knowing that he's doing it on purpose, trying to drive her away. "Fine, let's talk about it because that will help, right?" He mocks and spreads his arms wide open, his lips pulled into a sardonic smile. "Let's talk about how I kissed my own niece and almost took her against the wall like some goddamn whore!"
("Christ, Charlie–" His words are coming out strangled and hoarse, a far cry from his usual cool and distant tone. His fingers flex, slipping beneath her rugged up tank top, brushing against heated skin, and she whimpers.
Miles growls something unintelligible and raises his head, letting Charlie catch a glimpse of dark eyes, of guilt and desire, of shame and lust, reflections of her own conflicting feelings, and then his mouth is on hers, wet, hungry, and his hands drag her hard against his thigh.)
Even when he'd spoken about the past, had revealed what he'd done to her father, her mother, her family, his expression had never been so full of self-loathing as it is now. It breaks her heart to see him this torn, broken. She bites her lower lip as she slowly kneels down next to him and gently touches his arm.
It's like someone flipped a switch. Almost savagely, he jerks his arm away from her hand, drops the bottle and gets to his feet, staggering across the roof and cursing under his breath.
"Miles-"
He whirls around and grits his teeth. "You don't get it, Charlie, do you?" He hisses at her. "That down there? That wasn't some accident, wasn't adrenaline getting me hard. That was you. I wanted you."
(For a few heartbeats, it's just him and her, them, passion and desire, and she's losing herself in him, but then he's suddenly gone and though they're only two feet apart, it feels like there's a world between them. Charlie stares at him, tries to read him, but his eyes are cold and flat, she can't tell what he's thinking, and somehow that makes it only worse. Her throat closes up with emotion and she takes a step towards him, hand outstretched.
His gaze drops to her hand, then snaps back to her face, and something flickers behind the coldness in his eyes but she gets no chance to find out what it is. Miles clenches his fists, shakes his head and stalks out of the room before she can stop him.)
Charlie looks at him calmly as she slowly stands up as well and his burning gaze rakes over her. "God, you have no idea how much I-" he breaks off and turns away from her, running his fingers almost violently through his hair with a frustrated sound. "It wasn't a one-time thing, Charlie. I know it's not right, I shouldn't even be thinking about you like that, but I do. I still want you."
He glances at her over his shoulder, his body tense, coiled like a spring. "You should go, Charlie, run and never look back. I'm a selfish bastard, a monster and you should-"
"No."
"What?"
She fixes him with that famous Matheson-glare and steps forward until she's right in front of him. "Do you really think, I wouldn't have been able to stop you if I hadn't wanted to?"
Miles opens his mouth again but she cuts him off. "For god's sake, Miles, you know the world we're living in. Women aren't safe these days and by the time I was thirteen, Maggie had taught me six different ways how to 'emasculate' a man as she'd called it."
Charlie reaches out and catches his shirt up in her hand, twisting it slowly as she invades his personal space, her eyes narrowed. "You didn't force me, Miles, because I wanted it too. And I don't regret it."
She releases his shirt but her hands stay pressed against his chest and his heartbeat under her palms is matching the fast pace of her own. "Of course, we can pretend it never happened, but we both know that whatever is happening between us? It won't go away."
"Charlie, you don't know what you're saying. It's wrong, you and I, it's not..." he trails off, staring down at her as if he's never seen her before.
"Maybe it's wrong but what's right these days anyway?" Once more, green eyes meet hazel ones as Miles searches her face, and she returns his gaze openly, lets him see everything. A shudder runs through him, and then he moves, reaches up and entwines his fingers tight in her hair, pressing his forehead against hers.
"You're killin' me," he groans as he leans back and tilts her face up to his, something wild, almost feral, flashing in his eyes, and then it's a clash of lips and teeth that leaves her bruised and unbearably lightheaded. She barely realizes that he's walking her backwards until her back hits the brick wall between the old chimney and the shed, hiding them in the shadows.
His hands run up and down her sides, pushing at her tank top, and his palm is warm and heavy on her skin. She moans into his mouth, hooks her fingers into his belt to pull him closer, and feels the hard pressure of him against her stomach.
Something hot and dark blooms inside her, spreads through her like wildfire, and she clutches at his shoulders as she kisses him back. He tastes like whiskey, like something rich, and like Miles, and she wants more, she wants him, she wants–
"Fuck," he breathes against her mouth, his right hand fumbling with her belt, and she arches into him as the back of his fingers brush the skin under her belly button. When his hand slips into her pants and he touches her there, her breath rushes out of her and she's sent into a spiral of dizziness.
Heat builds inside her, starting where his fingers slide against her, a slow sort of inferno that burns along her nerves, a haze of tension and heartbeats, and it's like nothing Charlie has ever experienced. His lips find the place between her shoulder and her neck as he pushes his cock against her pant-clad leg, and she moves with him, her breath coming in fast, uneven bursts.
Her head falls back as she feels her belly tighten, pleasure slowly engulfing her, and she wraps an arm around his neck, the brand on her wrist grazing his skin. Miles exhales into her hair, a drawn-out hiss that could have been her name, and hauls her up to him, pressing himself harder against her.
It breaks over her like a storm, crashes through her like waves, and Charlie comes with his name on her lips, tightening around his fingers as she bucks hard against him. It's enough to push him over the edge too, his movements becoming more frantic, jerkier, his hand clenching on her hip, holding her in place, and a strangled groan escapes him as his own release follows.
The world rushes back in on them and they fall back against the wall, both struggling to breathe, his hands a solid pressure on her hips. "Dammit, Charlie," he murmurs in a low voice as he draws back slightly and for a moment, she fears there worst, but then she sees the heat in his dark eyes, and her hands curl on his shoulders.
Before she has time to react, he has a hand behind her neck to keep her still as he presses his mouth to hers in a short, rough kiss. He pulls away far to quickly, a smirk flitting over his face, and then he's gone, disappears through the door and leaves her on the roof alone.
Breathless and with her nerves still tingling from his touch, Charlie sags against the stone and stares at the rising sun, smiling as she touches her fingertips to her bruised lips. Part of her knows, she should feel guilty and ashamed, but another part of her – some dark and selfish part – doesn't care.
This, they, shouldn't have happened but everything they've been through, all those moments between them (You're very unusual - I'm not gonna leave - I remember laughing - This is my fault - I'm counting on you - I need you to open your eyes - You saved me), have led them here and with every fiber of her being she does not regret it.
No matter the consequences.
- END -