title: two one two
author: keren ziv
rating: r .
disclaimer: I have a box and clowns. I like to be left alone. I own almost nothing. Alias isn't mine, damnit.
pairing: syd/devlin
notes: for the 5.5.1. challenge of ev. lurves to jess. it's another amazingly short piece for the archive!

(past)

it started in the united states, with her and him and tears. she came to you as per your orders and listened to your screaming with her handler and lover next to her side. you were so angry that you could see spots. she stayed after he left and cried. you held her.

she kissed you first. if when anybody asks, you will tell them the truth. you were feeling like a gigantic asshole, she turned her head, and there were lips touching your own. you knew what she was doing not just with the kiss, but with the kiss.

you ignored that though and touched her back, imagining the flesh underneath the fabric. she sighed into your mouth and you though maybe with resignation. you pulled her close to your body and let her realize how accepted her offer was.

you were slow because she was afraid.

in paris, you remembered he was french and so you were rough and demanding. the lights of the ceiling were yellowing and the air conditioning was perhaps a mite too cold. her nipples stood like soldiers.

there was an old tom cat and he would watch sometimes. it made you uncomfortable and you contemplated killing it. that thought made you laugh into her navel and it caused her to squirm in your tight grasp. your strengthened your hold and pondered how she would explain the bruises to him. you found you didn't care at that moment.

the room had dark splashes across it like the sun setting in a deep blue sky. you enjoyed this, moved her on top, so that you could look past her tightly drawn lips and into the paint of the room.

you thought maybe your grip tightened but it may have been just your orgasm.

(present)

you are gentle with her in vancouver. it is unseasonably warm and in the air you smell a sort of spice, like cinnamon, that makes you feel like a young man, though you are not a young man and have not been for a long time. you think that maybe she is aging you, too, and that is one of the reasons you've felt so old lately.

you are sorry for the french bruises and maybe the questions that might have followed. there are no kisses, just softly moving lips against her flushed skin, where you remember that your hands were placed.

the sweet spot of her thigh is graced with your apology; the area on either side of her hips as well.

you realize that you're repeating the same motion with your lips each time. it's a chanting, almost, of the same word. maybe you are saying her name.

(future)

you will meet her in quebec for drinks and a fuck. there will be in your manner a bored air. you will not wish to let her know how much you count on these meetings, because you are already disgusted with yourself.

the feel of you in her will be familiar. you will place your hands where you always do and she will lean into your collarbone.

you will remember, as you inevitably do, that first time you so her bare breasts. her collarbone will dip down to far until her breasts start.

she will be much too thin and for the first and last time you will admonish her, telling her that she needs to eat. she will be surprised and hurt that you think that you have the right to say that and sulk until you make her come.

you will trace the bones maybe. maybe not.

when you break up, you will dump her. it's the entire issue with it for you. you have to show her that you can break it off at any time. you feel the need to let her know that she has paid her debt.

you won't want to have her forever, ruin her flavor, because she is afraid of you.
she will be and she should be, but maybe it will be more about the control of the situation than protecting her. maybe you will realize that the entire relationship was about control, who has it and who doesn't, and see that you never did.

she will feel bad about it all, feel like she used you, when really she will know and you will know that you used her. she will offer herself.

and so the last time you enter her, maybe you can pretend that you're making love with a dear heart of your own, not a tired woman whose ribs are sharp against your skin.