Something on one of the computers woke her up. A low, urgent beep. She blinked her eyes open, and for a moment, wondered where she was. Then she remembered. Beneath her was his warmth, his heart beat. He breathed slowly, in and out. It was the calmest she ever saw him. It was her favorite version of him. Relaxed, languid. Post-coital. They were reclined in his chair. The digital beep sounded again. Like his beating heart, it was persistent. She realized that she should wake him; a sick part of her didn't want to. It could be something bad. A kink in their project. The beginning of the end of the world. Even so, she wanted to stay here. Right here. In the heat of him. His breath (it smelled like her) hot on her face. His low growl. So satisfied. She could still feel the throb of him. Distant, a thunder that had rolled over already. Like the lightning, she could call it back. Would he want her again? She wondered that every time. His moods came and went like a storm. Here one moment, raging, destroying. Then gone. A calm. A clarity.
She shifted. Her face rubbed against the soft feathers underneath his beak. She opened her own beak, preening him. The feeling of him in her mouth woke her up. It was a spark in her blood. It was like tasting fire. He shifted, grunting. She was afraid to wake him. It always broke the spell. The calm evaporated when he gained consciousness. The banked fire roared to life. His voice broke the silence. Gritty, harsh, loud. She just wanted him to stay quiet for a bit longer. It was almost over. Their plans were coming together. Neither one of them had betrayed each other yet, but she was planning on bailing out as soon as she could. The dime. It was always about that damned dime. It was her obsession. Sometimes she wished she could stop thinking about it, dwelling on it. What would it be like to think about something else? To have another dream? To not be alone? She sighed, pulling at his shirt, bunching it up in her fist. In this whole year, they had only been intimate a handful of times. She knew this was the last. There had been an urgency about it. Almost a panic. They had clung to each other. His eyes had held a need, a demand. They had glowed red in the light of the monitors and the candles. He had groaned like he was in pain. They had come together at the same exact moment, like magic. She had gasped into the dark, heard it echoing off the damp ceilings, into the dark, abandoned corners. He had pushed his beak into her neck, biting, his pleasure almost a sobbing pain. She could feel his desperation. He didn't want it to end, and neither did she. It was a struggle inside of her. She wanted to finish the plan, wanted to leave. Be left with her own devices. But she didn't want to let go of this. His dark, magnetic power. His brilliant mind. His sense of control. How he gave in to her in the dark. How her pushed through her own darkness, exploring her abandoned corners. He wanted to travel her like one of their dimensions. And she wanted to let him. But she would never let anyone in all the way. Gladstone had come the closest. They had known each other for a long time. But this… It was something entirely different. Negaduck didn't feel like a person. He felt like a force. Like fire, thunder, brutal wind. She knew there was nothing permanent about him. About this. She didn't want it to be… but she also didn't want to let go. He was a shadow that she clawed at. She gave more of herself than she should, and he took, sometimes with force. He even gave himself to her, in small pieces. She hated that. She was no dog to beg for scraps. He was the first person that she ever had to beg for. She hated him. She loved him. Her heart was both full and empty of him. He was her vice.
He shifted under her again, his eyelids twitching. The computer continued to beep. It was becoming more urgent. She wanted to close her eyes. Wanted to pretend she was asleep, that she didn't hear the alarm. The sun was dawning. The plan was folding around them, coming together like a jigsaw puzzle. There was a vibration in the air. Her heart beat fast against his. He finally startled awake. She pressed him down, wanting to extend the intimacy, knowing they couldn't. He was already pushing her away, grunting awake.
"What...What is that?" His eyes were blurry, he blinked them several times.
"It's the damn computer…" She sighed wearily against his chest.
"What? Why the hell didn't you…?" He was pulling himself up off the chair, distraction in his eyes. The plan. It was always about the plan. She was in it too, and she still wanted this. But now she wanted him too. And she hated herself for it. Her black heart only had room for so much, and he was too much. Everything about him screamed too much. He was scrambling over to the computer, typing frantically on the keyboard. Wiping the sleep out of his eyes, scrubbing through his head feathers. Distracted. Always distracted by his thoughts. So many of them. You couldn't tell by just looking at him. He seemed like he was just violence, just crudity. But inside there was a vast intelligence. It almost scared her. She had lived enough for many lives, yet he was still rather young. How had he obtained all of this knowledge?
She lay back on the chair, watching him. Not lifting a finger to help. His shoulders twitching with each strike of the keys, his voice harsh, growling at the monitor. His cursing. He coughed, clearing the night from his lungs. It was like a dismissal. Their passion was over. It was a sunset, the curtain call, the final bow.
"Magica." His voice was a rock scraping over metal.
"Hn." She hummed, indifferent. He had no power over her. Zero.
"Get over here." His fingers, beckoning. Those fingers had treated her differently hours before. Not demanding, but eager to give. To feel. Now he was business. She frowned, her eyebrows pensive. No. She wasn't ready for this yet. His chest beneath her. His sighing. Calm, relaxed. That was what she wanted. Couldn't he leave her with just one thing? Something to remember this by? Couldn't he just leave well enough alone? She shook her head. The plan. It was time. He needed her by his side. Even if he wouldn't admit it, he needed her help right now. She could see it in his tense shoulders. Hear it in his voice. The undertone of urgency. But she would torture him just a bit longer. Punish him for when they parted ways. She was supposed to leave first, there was no other way. He had the control, and she would take it away from him. Men never left Magica De Spell. She dismissed them.
So, she leaned back further in her chair and sighed, like he was just being dramatic.
"What do you want?" Her voice was coy. She knew exactly what he wanted, what he needed. Her help. But he wouldn't ask. He turned to her then, his eyes narrowed, on fire. He knew exactly what she was doing, and he was having none of it.
"Just get over here!" His voice cracked under the pressure of his own anger. She fussed with her hair, turning away. He growled and turned back to the keyboard, furiously banging at the keys.
"Goddammit...fucking witch!" He shook with fury, and she cackled at him. He would not hurt her. Could not. She was an iron fortress, guarded with more spells than she even remembered anymore. He had never even tried. But he would scream, and rant. And throw things, while just she sat back and watched. Calm, collected. Even amused. She wanted to keep this in her mind. Negaduck. Brought down to pure anger by just her words alone. Her unwillingness to cooperate. She would watch him struggle, then save him at the last minute. Because she loved this. Their games were infinite. Yet it was the last day. She wanted to keep playing.
After she couldn't take his rage anymore, she stood up calmly from the chair, pulling her dress around her. Combing her hand through her hair. Clearing her throat. Pushing her feet into her high heels. Her hand went to his back, pressed down. A pressure point. He seized up at first, growling and almost pulling away. Then she rubbed, slowly, calmly. She wanted him calm, quiet. Her quest with him had been to put out the fire, to bank it. Now she was realizing that she couldn't do this. Couldn't change him. Didn't want to. He was Negaduck. He was chaos. Energy. Violence. He was what he was. She respected that.
He sighed and shuddered under her hand. She turned to him.
"It's alright, dahlink. We can fix it."
"The plan, Magica. We're almost…"
"I know. Nega." She raised her eyebrows at him. "But nothing can stop up us now. We've got all of them. And we will win." She smiled, waiting for his smile. She was rewarded with his devilish teeth, flashing in the light of the screens.
"You're right, babe." He nodded. "We got this." He laughed then, and she felt something inside. A sparkle, light dancing on water. Victory. They would win. She felt so certain. She laughed with him, her eyes going to the screen.
"There." She pointed. Control was theirs again. Her mouth already formed the words of the spell, her hands made the motions. The figure on the screen stilled, hers again. She nodded, and he smiled, jagged like glass. Inhibitions aside, she reached for him then, taking him by surprise. It was hard to surprise him, and it had been something she had lived for the year that had been together. Plotting, traveling, being… Her lips pressed against his. She tasted him. Soft at first, then hard, like metal. Sharp, but clear. Blood, salt. They both knew it was the last time. Did he want it to be? Would he care when they parted ways? Her foolish heart hoped he would, but her mind knew he wouldn't. He'd had his way with the wicked witch of Duckburg, and now they were almost through. He pulled away first, his mouth wet. He wiped it away, nothing to him. Turned back to the keyboard.
"Today's the day, Magi-baby. Let's do this, hn?"
"Yes. Let's finish it."
Her laugh was an echo of what it used to be as she leaned close to him. Victory tainted by loss.