A/N: and here we are, the scene for Connor and Abby. If anyone else wants to see another chapter with another pairing, so long as it's in Fractured, I will be glad to write it. This one also takes place between "Homeward Bound" and "Repaired" (Chapters 24 and 25).

She could feel their…link or connection, whatever the hell it was, humming between them. Leaning forward, she pressed her lips to his own.

Connor's long, clever fingers laced into her short hair, pulling her closer, tilting her head at an angle better for kissing. Abby wrapped both arms around his neck, eyes closing. His mouth was absolutely perfect, soft enough to mould to hers yet firm enough for her to still feel it, moving against her own. He lightly brushed his tongue over her lips, asking permission instead of demanding it, and she willingly opened her mouth to him. A shiver moved through her body as their tongues met halfway, tentatively brushing before sliding together, slow and unhurried. God, he knew how to kiss. When they pulled apart from each other, she felt lightheaded.

He felt dizzy too, but for a different reason. He wanted to speak and tell her, but his tongue was still drunk on the taste of her and could not cooperate. After swallowing a few times, he managed to speak. "Abby-bird, I—"

She placed a finger on his lips, and the simple touch sent sparks coursing down his nerves. "Connor…I love hearing you talk, but please, just this once, shut up," she said fondly, and he nodded. She lowered her hand from his mouth, he slid his fingers in her hair, and he pulled her forward for another kiss. Her hands clasped on the back of his neck, drawing him closer; she lay back on the cot, drawing him over on top of her.

When they pulled apart, he began to instead kiss her cheek, trailing down her jaw to her neck. She closed her eyes, hands wandering across his shoulders and back, pressing her fingertips into his hard muscles; he'd filled out from the geek she'd first shacked up with. He was still lean, but now he had that wiry, whipcord tension better suited to slender anyways, and she knew that he was strong. Her hands wandered down his back, sliding under the hem of his blood-stiff jacket and shirt to press against the cool, bare skin of his lower back, clutching around his lean waist. He shivered at her touch. Connor pulled her jacket off and tossed it aside, then slid both hands beneath her shirt, fingers creeping up her bare sides, his hand spread across her belly to feel her tremble under him.

His lips found the tender flesh behind her ear, and she giggled despite herself, trying to tilt her head away. Realising that he'd found a ticklish spot, he nibbled and teased at that spot, making her giggle louder and squirm. He slid a hand further up her shirt, and her giggles became soft gasps as his fingertips skimmed the bottom edge of her bra. Withdrawing his hand, he pulled her shirt up slowly, drawing it up over her head and setting it aside. Then he shrugged off his own jacket and tore his shirt off as well. She felt a pang of sympathy, seeing the darkening bruises and scratches on his pale skin, but then he leant down to kiss her again, and she was lost to the touch of his skin against hers. Reaching between them, she unhooked her bra and slipped it off, grateful that she'd invested in front-clasped bras. Her nipples abraded against his chest, sending sensation firing through her body. But when she reached down to unbuckle his trousers, he sat up and leant away. "Connor?" she whispered.

"I wish to show you more than simple gratification," he said quietly, pulled off her tartan skirt, unbuttoned her jeans, and drew down the zip, drawing them down her legs. She shivered in delight as his fingers ghosted up her bare legs to slip her knickers off as well. Then she watched as he removed his own trousers so they were both bare.

Connor knelt near the end of the cot, placing his hands on her thighs, thumbs massaging slow circles into her flesh. She watched him with baited breath as he planted a kiss on one knee, then the other. Then—oh—he began to kiss a trail up her legs, lavishing care on each of her legs; the rough stubble on his jaw scraped against the tender skin of her inner thigh as he rubbed his cheek against her like a cat. She closed her eyes, unable to keep them open, and he growled softly, the sound rumbling through her. He began to move up her body, taking his time with it, planting warm, wet kisses on her hipbones, up her belly, over her ribs. He nuzzled between her breasts, stubble tickling her skin, then took one stiff nipple into his mouth; his tongue was rough, almost cat-like, rasping against the hypersensitive peak. Moaning eagerly, she arched her back into him, the tug of his suckling sending pleasure firing through her nerves and gathering between her thighs. He moved from her left breast to the right, showing the same almost-worshipful attention. He peppered her chest and shoulders with more of his light, teasing kisses before trailing up her throat. Nibbling and blowing into her ear, he kissed along her jawbone. By the time that his lips found hers once again, she was panting with need, eagerly grasping at his hair. "Please, Conn," she whispered quietly; she'd never begged a man for anything, but she'd never wanted anything as much as she wanted Connor right now—on her, in her, as close as they could get. She slid her hand down and grasped his erection, tugging slightly.

With an eager moan, he moved around and got on top of her; Abby spread her legs, his hips settling between her thighs; she bucked up to him eagerly. Connor inhaled a breath and drove himself into her as deep and hard as he could. She let out a strangled cry, entire body arching against him. Connor shuddered and went heavy on her, struggling to breathe properly. The feeling of her—so warm and tight and wet—was enough to make him lightheaded. Once he'd figured out how to get his lungs working again, he pushed himself up onto his elbows, taking his weight off her. Abby had her eyes closed, mouth open in an expression of blissful ecstasy. He slid out of her almost entirely and then drove back in; Abby's skull met the wall behind the cot with a solid thunk. Connor grasped her shoulders and slid them down the cot several inches. With the next deep thrust into her, all she could feel behind her head were soft pillows; the action was so sweet and tender, so Connor that she nearly cried. But then he thrust back into her and she moaned the unshed tears.

He slid his hands beneath her shoulders, gliding up the back of her neck to cradle her head in his hands, fingers snared about her hair. He slid almost entirely out of her body and drove back in; Abby let out a throaty groan of pleasure. He figured that he had to be doing something right and did it again, and again, and again. She was writhing beneath him, arching her hips to match the slightly frantic pace he'd fallen into, meeting him at each thrust. Her hands clutched at his back, panting and moaning out an array of sounds. She certainly wasn't quiet in bed even as he was silent except for his heaving breathing. He rested his forehead against hers. With hands on her sides, he slid his hands up her ribcage, coaxed her arms up above their heads, and interlocked their fingers on the pillows.

He felt her inner muscles tighten around him as she let out a strangled scream, back arching upwards into him. He muffled her cries with hard, pressing kisses until it died down and he could start again. She tightened her hands around his, lifting her head to kiss him, eager to taste him again. Already he was bringing her back towards that peak, climbing towards it. She never would have ever guessed that sex with Connor could ever be like this. She reveled in the weight of his body, the heat of his skin, the smell of coconut shampoo and blood in his hair. She marveled at the stunning orgasm that'd come from nowhere, requiring no effort on her part, and God help her, he was doing it again. Abby made no sound, mouth open in a silent scream, body quaking and shaking against him. He wasn't stopping either, moving and driving into her, drawing out her orgasm until he feared he might permanently lose circulation to his hands.

As much as she reveled in this passionate side of him, Abby wanted more. She wanted to feel him come as well, hear the noises he'd make when his mind went white from orgasm. Wrapping her legs around his waist, she clutched him into her. Staring down into her face, he began to move once again, though now with new passionate urgency. She heard the sound of the cot's edge actually striking the wall behind it, and she cried out at the vigor of his lovemaking, clutching at him with arms and legs. He could feel a sweet, tingling ache pouring all through his limbs, burning down his spine and straight into his cock. He wouldn't be able to hold on much longer like this, and he recognised the change of pitch in her voice that meant she was close as well.

He pressed his forehead against her own, and she gasped as the link between them was suddenly torn open, a mental door flung open wide. Suddenly she was inside his mind and he was inside hers, merged like two drops of water, one in mind as well as body. She could feel what he did, being within her, and he felt what she did, having him inside her. A gasping cry was torn from her lips in the form of his name as the blinding rush of orgasm flooded through her, and Connor let out a strangled sound, his vision going white as he came inside her, entire body trembling. When the last ecstatic spasm tapered away, he collapsed on top of her, feeling like his skeleton had been pulled out. Abby wrapped her arms around him, cradling his head to her chest and stroking his hair. Their minds came apart, separating from each other, as whatever overwhelming connection they shared thinned away. "Hey, don't fall asleep on me now," she murmured, planting a kiss atop his hair whilst curling her fingers around his sweat-damp hair.

Connor slid down the bed some so he could press his head against her chest, lightly nuzzling her breasts. The short, wiry hair of his almost-beard scraped wonderfully against her bare skin, and she felt his soft breath tickle her skin. He took such soft little breaths, like a little kid would, barely audible; sometimes she felt like a bellows, breathing so loud. He closed his eyes and pressed his ear against her chest. "Such a nice sound. Clean and steady, body's metronome. Tock…tock…tock," he murmured softly.

Her warrior-nerd had a real thing about her heart, she'd noticed. More than once she'd wake up to have his head resting against her chest, cheek resting just above her heart, his breathing slowing to match its rhythm.

"Because it is mine and only mine. Nobody else may have it, and nobody else will," he replied; she didn't even mind when he answered the thoughts in her head without her saying them aloud. "You don't mind?"

"Nope."

"It is hard sometimes, telling auditory input from cerebral, especially when so closely linked," he said quietly, lashes half-closed.

"I know, baby." Abby hugged his head to her breast, stroking his thick, soft hair, her heart pounding as she managed to get her breathing back under control. She pressed her cheek to the top of his head, breathing in the scent of him. He smelled so good, like sweat and musk, and she could feel him breathing heavily against her chest. "Love, sweet love," she whispered into his hair.

"I didn't think the day I woke in the Complex could ever be supplanted," he murmured quietly.