Rin visited her daily. It took twelve days for Cara to find her next real step toward their mission. It began with a small step onto the Citadel. Reports of a Dr. Bryson and something called a Leviathan. The outing was more of a field trip, a shuttle ride down to a private residence.
Disturbing evidence of mind control.
As Rin wished to be the only person or entity with that capacity, he was wary of competition and invasion, but intrigued.
There was an Asari on board the Normandy, Samara, but she was reclusive. Cara was suspicious of her. That was acceptable for now and there was little he could do about it. He must find some way to end her sojourn on the Normandy but he could not do it while they were on the ship and must be cautious of Omni Tool monitoring in her case. He had control over Cara's Omni Tool and his, proximity to her allowing him the opportunity to remotely crack her Omni Tool without her knowledge. The Omni Tools with Cara's unique customization were beautiful technical things. He was able to study his own and observe her accessing hers, making hacking possible. No need for venom, only an exploitable remote executable transferred to hers piggybacked on a signal from his own, a trusted signal that was able to bypass much of her voluminous tailored security.
Samara's Omni Tool was beyond his observation and reach. She might record or send distress or signal of biometrics anywhere, that was difficult to predict or prevent.
He wished to assess squad mates and they wished to assess him. Kaidan Alenko, Miranda Lawson, Mordin Solus and Hemorus Orbestan were all known quantities to Cara and he knew her opinions of their capabilities well.
Her relationship with each of those individuals was remote. Kaidan had been attracted to her at one point and she had avoided him. She did not trust Miranda. She enjoyed Solus's company but he remained in his lab and she remained in her cabin. Orbestan was problematic and Thane Krios had done a great deal of research on him independently as a Spectre and as an installation in her life. Orbestan had a close relationship with Councilor Vakarian and Cara believed he resented her for her habit of providing squad mates with 'bad days' when they did not follow orders the first time. Orbestan was a loyal man, but his loyalty was to Vakarian, not to Shepard. Orbestan was in love with Vakarian and his resentment of Shepard was palpable before her abduction and after her return.
She kept Orbestan on board to allow Garrus to have a conduit to information about the Normandy without her having to speak with him. Prudent.
Orbestan in her opinion was a known quantity, executed his role as a squad mate if not with good grace then at least with efficiency.
He was excellent at killing.
Rin would watch. It appeared Orbestan would keep his distance, maintain his friendship with Vakarian, stay out of Shepard's way and that was acceptable.
Cara had no use for Jack, but Rin could find use for her. She was a powerful biotic and if she could follow orders he would suggest she to be allowed to stay. They were all intelligent and capable people, but of different calibers. Jack was just intelligent enough to be destructive but not intrusive, and that he could use regardless of Cara's assessment. Jack wanting to be alone and not socializing was a bonus.
They located the next potential site and traveled to the asteroid belt, Mahavid. Cara chose to bring Rin and Alenko, evidence of mind control moving from the capability of one individual remotely to hundreds, an entire station trapped in time for ten years.
Next they located Dr. Bryson, Cara choosing to bring Rin and Jack. Cara had not necessarily wished to give Subject Zero the opportunity to serve as a squad mate, but he had said quietly "Unless you give her a true opportunity to prove herself, you will not know her capacity. She was kept as a slave as a child, Lirya. She has been on this ship for months with the willingness to oppose Cerberus and the Collectors. Surely that earns her the opportunity to prove herself, to serve."
Jack had provided service… loudly but efficiently and they had located Dr. Bryson.
"The darkness must not be breeched" seemed a common theme that resonated with Rin.
They were directed through disturbing method to Despoina.
They faced indoctrination risk on any mission involving Reapers, that was a standard risk he must accept. She had often faced direct mind control risk, for example the Thorian and even the Rachni Queen potentially. It must be accepted at least in potential, he could not deny her advancement of her agenda on that basis, he must learn to adapt. Then there was standard dismemberment and explosion risks and with Subject Zero near, less than friendly fire as a possibility. Still, it was invigorating and interesting work. Rin suggested bringing Samara to Despoina, as all other squad mates were known quantities.
Being near Cara in combat was a new thing, something he enjoyed. The missions had been harrowing but not technically difficult. Watching over her, extending his senses and perception to guard her in tandem with her flawless tactical assessment was exhilarating. He found no reason to disagree with her assessment of combat and followed her orders without question.
They had intended to take the shuttle underwater but the shuttle was disabled. They were forced to land on a platform where they had attracted Reaper attention with no solutions except to continue to fight and improvise transportation.
He had led a risky lifestyle, certainly, but not this risky by design. He had been trained to minimize risks and look after himself. Looking after her while she was charging directly toward risks was a jarring if not entirely unwelcome experience. He admired her.
The shuttle disabled and a Triton enabled, there was no alternative but to permit her descent.
That would also leave him alone with Samara… and several Reaper agents, harrowing again but not a difficult fight. Samara was excellent in combat and he regretted the necessity of her death. He liked her. There was a great deal to like.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO
Lal descended, the pressure building and a terribly concerning hissing sound making itself known.
Troublesome.
Of course, being stranded was troublesome also.
She did come face to face… face to carapace? Face to tentacle? Face to… tiny piece… of a Leviathan.
She felt the pressure of the water and then the pressure in her mind, similar to when the chip was activated. Answers given and answers forced and a great deal learned…
And some mysterious things discussed that had no immediate answers or context.
She had their agreement to help… whatever that meant, which probably mostly meant she would be allowed to go until…
"Your mind is fractured, Shepard."
She thought a moment about that. Cara, Lal, Drala'fa. She muttered "Understatement."
The voice continued "Your body deteriorates and your mind as it is will struggle."
"About that body deteriorating thing, I should go?"
"Yes. To the surface. There is another mind there, the mind within yours."
She thought maybe they were miscounting minds, she had at least three, but she had to go, she felt the nosebleed and her ear bleeding, sharp pain. There was a moment, a twist in her mind, a rending tear and a wrenching and… and she knew.
She could barely draw a breath and she knew.
Thane Krios was Senar and Kegirin Itran and Varin Celetis… Rin…
And she… she was trapped here…
The Leviathan had been inside her head, decided she was worthy… and then stripped back the veil it had taken Senar… months to create.
She tried to speak to the Leviathan again but they were gone and wouldn't answer. She tried to activate her Omni Tool but it wasn't functioning. It hadn't when she went down… and it was still offline. She couldn't communicate with the Normandy.
She couldn't stay here, couldn't wait with the hiss, couldn't contact the Leviathan…
Had to go back up there…
She took a deep breath and decided that throwing up inside this armature would be a bad idea, blocked images and realizations.
She had very little oxygen remaining, reactivated the Triton to travel back up, shaking from adrenaline, horror and shock.
He didn't know. He didn't know she knew. Stay calm. You can get back on the surface, get back on the Normandy. Stay calm.
She remembered. She remembered how hard it would be to kill him, why she'd never tried, but now she didn't have a chip. Did she? Did he put it back in somewhere? No. That would have been caught on a scan.
She took a moment to speak to her parents. "I miss you. I'll be back. I love you. He could predict Asari but couldn't predict a Leviathan. Neither could I. But I'll be back and I love you. I love you so much. I've missed you so much."
Their voices chimed in that they loved her, that they were watching, that they believed, they knew she would be free.
All she had to do would be to behave normally… whatever was normal after a descent to the depths. Don't say anything about mind control. Don't make him suspicious. Get back to the Normandy. Don't let him touch you, get him in his cabin and have EDI isolate him. Don't let him take a hostage, don't let him touch anybody else. Don't let him talk to anybody other than EDI. He could execute any number of primed commands. Don't ever talk to him again.
Okay. That could work.
Situation Normal All Messed Up.
Yes, she didn't swear, so this was a SNAMU and not a SNAFU.
Be just traumatized enough.
She smiled, took a deep breath of thinning air and anticipated freedom. Actual freedom. Giddy from hope and… and lack of oxygen… she tried to set her story straight and blessed the Darkness being Breeched.
She'd tell him that she talked to the Leviathan. Talk, not mental contact. They would provide assistance against Reapers when called upon. They have technology that…
How to explain mind control?
He knew they could do it.
How to explain mind control?!
She didn't know, she only had seconds, the light breaking over the dome of the Triton. Her Omni Tool still didn't work and she was out of oxygen. She was bleeding, light headed and as the Triton cleared the deck, nobody was visible.
What if he was dead already? A huge rush of relief at the thought. She didn't want to put him in jail, didn't know how, wouldn't expose anybody else to this man. But if she tried to kill him here… she could fail… and to do it in cold blood…
Was anything about that man in cold blood anymore? Wasn't she being a bit too precious about morality in his case?
The real question was whether or not she could do it.
Heart hammering and muscles stripped weak she fell out of the Triton to the deck, sucking in deep gulps of air and fighting back the lightheadedness.
Her Omni Tool would not respond to anything.
The view to the shuttle was obscured and there was nothing on the deck. Her finger itched to pull out her gun… that would be normal, right? Prepared?
She had no idea what was normal, threw up from compounded decompression sickness, disorientation and terror.
She struggled to her knees and tried to stand.
His arm came around her waist, one around her throat, and she was assisted to her feet.
Don't… let him touch you…
Don't flinch.
She remembered that moment of waking up in front of a mirror, disorientation and those sick images and feelings, knowing his hands and knowing what he looked like, still trying to calmly step away from him. She tried now.
Rin would let Commander Shepard go once she was solidly on her feet.
This was not Rin. Not only Rin.
The hand around her waist disarmed her and the hand around her throat pulled her back and up against his body. He spoke in Rin's voice "I apologize that it was necessary to kill your crew, Commander Shepard. The shuttle pilot and Samara are gone, weighted with Reaper bodies and cast over the side. Your Omni Tool is disabled until I decide otherwise."
Her body reacted violently, though she knew not to try to fight, she couldn't keep the flush, the shake and the nausea from hitting her hard. He held her upright until he realized she was throwing up, helped her to the edge and stroked her hair back while she was violently ill and couldn't stop heaving long after everything was gone. Her body tried to throw him off like she tried to throw off the memories of Mindoir.
It took time and he was patient with her, let her decide when to pull back from the edge, having put her head down to the side on cold, wet metal facing away from him between bouts of retching. Her nose and eyes burned, throat burned, crying from the strength of the wind and driving rain, dammed hope set free and then halting failure.
A Reaper crashed down in the ocean within visible range, a wave cresting toward them from the impact. He picked her up and carried her back to higher decking, the platform riding over the passing waves as they watched. When the deck was stable he handed her a flask "Rinse your mouth, Drala'fa."
It was inbires, a Drell restorative. Fruit and herbs, balanced sweet and astringent, clarifying. He said drily "I know how you do not like alcohol, I no longer carry it on my person."
He'd never made her drink alcohol. Teased her about it nearly daily but never asked her to drink a drop. Never asked her to eat meat. She didn't spit it out but swallowed. It helped her throat and she wanted to throw up again. He said softly "It is the will of the sand. It is the will of the sea."
She didn't say anything, didn't ask any questions, did not want to talk to him or look at him, knew better than to speak.
He held her chin between his fingertips and met her eyes "Be consoled, Commander Shepard, you are going to achieve a turning point in the war against Reapers today."
She didn't answer him. He smiled and said "Your eyes as always Cara give you away as a Whole woman. Had I not already been forewarned, I would have known the moment I looked at you. You do not know what is in your eyes when you are Whole and I do not believe I will tell you. You won't remember, and that is a loss. I have missed your eyes. The Leviathan wondered who it was that was so much in the mind of Commander Shepard. They believe you can win this fight, as do I. They believe I can help you win. They do not care what I do with you otherwise. That I can control you means I am the most logical person to negotiate on your behalf. They are allies only in the war, Drala'fa, just as you and I are, and we will all do our part. That Reaper crashed at their command. We are going to go retrieve it. An idea I presented that they found intriguing. They wished to see what I would do, what you would do, and now they see. You and I are going to board and control a Reaper with their help. They believe it is possible we can control it. What you lack in their assessment in required ruthlessness I can provide. I have promised to keep you focused, support your resolve, provide you with the balance you need to win. They believe me." He stroked her hair back with a smile "How many Reapers do you wish, Commander Shepard? We begin with one, Leviathan can lure and deliver many more. Congratulations. I will not ask you to thank me, I am certain you will feel the urge later with Rin at your side."
"If they'd asked me I could have done that alone."
"Perhaps. But they did not ask me to do it, I asked them to permit me to try. I informed them you were going to take me back on the Normandy and have me arrested, in essence abandoning the fight for a personal concern. Or would you have killed me? With your mind fractured, which it was before I arrived there, they feared your focus was not on the fight. As I am able to return you to the fight, they are obliged to bargain with me. Once I pledged my arm in service, now you pledge yours to mine, to theirs, and Commander Shepard has her fleet of Reapers. It is a good day."
"I remember everything, Senar. You're going to have to kill me to keep me quiet. You don't have enough time, it took you months before."
"It took me months before to arrange a transition, Drala'fa. That transition is made and this moment can be addressed differently. I would and will never kill you. A few things will change, but we will both be served, and the war will be served. You and I will have time on a Reaper together, unmonitored, your fractured mind revealed and then healed, or at least compensated for by my presence and stability I provide. I have an opportunity to begin again. We will not leave Despoina until I am assured of your obedience. Afterward I will have months, years, to refine. You remember but you are not immune to venom. I look forward to the opportunity. We will not be returning to the Normandy until my conditions are met and the Leviathan's ambitions are served. Your Omni Tool is disabled, we can only use mine. We will send status reports, but the Normandy will remain in orbit… as bait… and the Leviathan will draw down any attackers. Commander Shepard will have cause to celebrate this day each year. I believe I will insist. Our survival odds grow exponentially. We can drink inbires, you always enjoyed that."
"You've convinced me that we're going to win. Please kill me when that happens."
"Never, Drala'fa. You will live a long and blissful life of inbires and a man who spoke to the Darkness and was found fit to rule you."
"I can rule myself."
"Of course you can. Your failing, if it is at all to be counted as one, Drala'fa, is that you wish to ask others to fight for greater good. That is admirable. Had we Breeched the Light I would have been obliterated in a shower of sparks and pain, no doubt. But we Breeched the Darkness, and Darkness only wants what it wants and does not care how it is achieved. I assumed you asked their help for the greater good. That is not what they wished to hear. I asked them what they wanted, thought of something I could give them immediately to prove my faith and capacity. I hope that this is the only gatekeeper of this ability. Samara is gone and is not a threat to the privacy of your mind. It is a great day."
She didn't speak.
"I have one thing to do and then we will begin. Be silent."
She was already silent and knew him well enough to not have to ask what the consequences would be.
Something horrible.
"Celestin to Normandy." His voice sounded breathless, harsh, pained.
"This is Normandy, go."
"Status report. Commander Shepard contacted creatures of the depths, those are the Leviathan. She has arranged for truce and talks. Unfortunately not before Justicar Samara and Marquesa Guerrin were lost to Reaper attack. The Leviathan believe we will be able to board the submerged Reaper, possibly control it with their assistance."
"What do you need from us?"
"Nothing at the moment. Commander Shepard is suffering from decompression sickness but it is mild, she is unconscious but stable. I am able to reactivate the shuttle. I will wait for her to recover and then make the dive to the Reaper."
"Her Omni Tool's offline."
"I believe it was damaged in transit due to poor pressure regulation. I have been assured that the Leviathan will not attack our shuttle, but do not attempt to approach or land. They will draw down Reapers that attempt to attack you or us. The Normandy will be safe from Reaper attack, that is something they promised."
"Aye aye."
"I will check in every four hours."
"Take care of her. Congratulations and good luck."
"Of course. Thank you."
He signed off and she said "You have to sleep."
He smiled and said "I admire your hope. I do, but not yet, and perhaps I would have to resort to physical restraints. Do you think I need to tie you, Drala'fa? I never did before. You said yourself… you remember… everything. There is so much you already know, so much I do not need to tell you. So much I already know and do not need to ask. You know I hope it's you that kills me. You know I will do everything I can to prevent that. I have had time to prepare, Drala'fa. The Councilor's office is not safe. The Normandy is not safe. Think of all the time I've had to put checks to what might turn out to be your predictably uncooperative state. You know I had time to infiltrate your Omni Tool. Imagine the commands I could enact from there. You know I have the Citadel codes, your Spectre codes and authorizations. All you need is your imagination. Councilor Vakarian is only alive as long as Rin is, if my Omni Tool stops sending biometrics… it will trigger highly paid contracts courtesy of Thane Krios. This is a good day, Drala'fa, and I have missed you. For now I want your body. You can keep your names, keep your knowledge for as long as you can hold onto it, and I will not ask you to look at me or touch me." His lips bent to the side of her neck and the shivering and blush swarmed along her skin. "It is cold and wet here, Drala'fa, and exactly how you are is exactly how I want you. Cold and wet."
She was a brave woman, everyone knew it. She was even brave now, but also sufficiently scared. Just exactly scared enough to do nothing but look away and shiver, to not want to watch or feel as his hands removed clasps of armor, her sodden undersuit with her body in shock and her mind exactly scared enough. He could be bluffing, but she didn't think so. She thought Garrus might die if she didn't deliver cold and wet, grateful in a way that she wasn't the one removing clothing with trembling fingers and shaking, numb hands.
He didn't need to humiliate or hurt her, but he wouldn't hesitate either if it got him what he wanted. He always told her what he wanted.
Except when he didn't.
She was alive because she hadn't run straight at a Batarian cruiser when she was terrified and grieving. She was alive because she hadn't tried to kill him when he repeatedly tried to goad her into it.
Now that she'd sparred with Rin and seen him in a fight she knew she'd underestimated how good he was at combat. He'd been teaching her…
Stop thinking. Don't put too much thought in one place. Don't put too much feeling… anywhere.
He could always make it easier or harder on her, all she had to do was ask or give the wrong answer. If she wasn't talking she wasn't doing either, if he told her she didn't need her to do anything… he wasn't lying.
Congratulations Commander Shepard, he had a really good idea and he's on your side in the war, it's been confirmed by the Darkness.
Given the potential advantage… she wasn't sure she'd take her actions back.
Would she go down in that Triton again to get a fleet of Reapers?
Yes.
He knew it.
It was raining so it didn't matter if she cried. She'd been able to do that silently since she was 16. She kept her eyes closed and head turned away. He was wet but not as cold as she was, his hands gliding along her skin, spreading venom and warmth. He said appraisingly, finding freckles with his fingers "I rejoice at the return of your markings, Drala'fa, much like my scale, and I mourn your green eyes still. The blanket I bought with the Councilor's money is ever at your side, on your skin, I am glad you enjoy that. I am gratified you love and miss Drell things. I have missed you."
She didn't flinch at touch or being startled anymore, but this wasn't being startled, he was warming her, the hum of biotics and relatively hot hands causing shivers, her skin wanting to move toward him, toward the source of heat. His fingers followed the random pattern of splashing rain and freckles on her skin. He stopped for a moment, offered the flask of inbires to her. She took a sip dutifully, he took a sip and put it away. He removed his jacket, spread it down on the decking and laid her back on it unresisting, rain and cold and shivers.
She closed her eyes, didn't want to remember the sky, though she didn't think she'd remember this anyway. It was impossible to process what she didn't know about herself, what he'd coaxed and pried from her with charm or force. All the ways she'd helped him, all the ways they were a team because that had meant she could get out.
Well… now she was out. It had been a team effort.
She didn't want to see or hear but through the patter of the rain she could hear him in his fastidious way removing his clothing. He'd never throw clothing aside, it was a ceremony.
She focused on cold and wet, on the discipline of the bed of nails, flinching occasionally from the cold spatter of rain, shivering and trying not to think, trying not to make it worse, it could always be worse.
She was afraid and she was brave and…
And he wouldn't kill her. He wouldn't even hurt her if she didn't defy him, and she didn't care about that anyway. It was the weight of months and years, that she could, they could… win the war… even together… and then she'd be this… every day, and she wouldn't know it.
Wasn't there an Earth tradition of this going on? "The tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots and tyrants." Thomas Jefferson? Or someone who actually fired a gun at some point in their life, had one fired at them? She couldn't remember. She wasn't Drell.
Easy for you to say, Thomas. Your tyrant wasn't all that creative. If my issue was taxation without representation I'd consider myself lucky.
Venomization without representation? She wasn't immune to venom and she was more of a martyr than a patriot anyway. Even he said so.
She also had some representation or she'd be on a throne still in Beckenstein and not here.
What was the other one? "Give me liberty or give me death?" She wanted to earn liberty for others… and now… now she wanted to die after and he wouldn't allow that either. He wouldn't kill her.
His warm hand settled on the tops of her knees and slid down between her thighs, spreading her legs so she was more open to the rain, colder, setting off more shivers. She didn't resist. His fingertips brushed wet hair off her forehead. His hand trailed along her jaw line to her throat and down between her breasts, his palm cupping a breast and brushing venom over her cold nipple with a thumb that was hot in comparison, the involuntary shudder of knowing exactly what venom would do.
He wanted her cold so he could make her warm. He was a man who enjoyed ironic contrasts.
The 'wet' was self explanatory.
He was praise and heat, humming blue that brought back searing memories she'd had no idea existed and wanted to forget immediately. He told her how beautiful she was, how much he had missed her, how often he wanted to reach for her, how much he admired her in action. How grateful he was that she had given him this opportunity and how much he cherished it, and would, even if she did not remember. Especially if she did not remember.
She knew he'd smile at her some day in his doting, indulgent way, looking at her as though she were the most beautiful thing he'd ever beheld, and she'd smile back, and he would be thinking of this moment and she would not know.
He pulled back, she imagined he was looking down at her again, creating his memories, moments of length and breadth and meaning to him.
Memorizing each raindrop's trajectory.
Of course… they might not survive controlling the Reaper at all… and she had to hope they would.
The rain was blocked by his shadow, by his heat, by humming she knew was blue in her bones, in her blood, his mouth on hers with her in panting, cold shock. She almost tried to break his neck before remembering contracts, possibilities, Marquesa and Samara overboard and weighted down. She clenched her hands into fists to keep from hitting at him in panic, pressed into the cold deck.
It didn't take long and she could have counted, but she'd lost seconds to panic. Two minutes. Two minutes and if he decided she'd be gone. He could compel her to jump over the side herself but that wasn't a risk.
He wouldn't let her die.
A minute and a half, her cold lips warming under his, his tongue along the inside curve of her bottom lip, caught between his teeth, his hand on her breast pressing in more venom, making the time frame faster. Lightheadedness came back, different and wavering, not painful but disorienting. She dug her nails into the deck until she felt them crack, trying to hold onto the pain.
She wouldn't beg, wouldn't hit, wouldn't remember.
Marquesa and Samara. Remember that. Marquesa and Samara. They're dead.
Then there were no words, but blue and warm and his lips, like a dream. She was dreaming and if he spoke she would do what he asked but he didn't ask for anything. Sparks clung to the inside of her eyelids but she didn't blink to clear them, didn't want to open her eyes. Hallucination, familiar and even comforting, a warm flow in contrast to the cold.
Why was she cold?
Hard deck plate under her body, leather against her back and blue, welcoming warmth, words she did not understand but followed because she wanted to. Were there words?
There was heat, a man kissing her, a man she knew somehow and didn't and none of that mattered. He kissed along freckle paths and water trails and she was warmer where he was, arching up into where he touched her, her mouth reaching for his and her arms coming around his back, familiar and solid, safe.
She couldn't remember his name but it didn't matter. When his mouth left hers she moaned and he laughed, kissing a path down to her breasts, where he stayed and she moaned again and more, eyes closed, her face feeling like raindrops and sparks, her skin tingling in trails left by his fingertips and lips.
He kissed along her stomach, his hands along her waist and then over her hips, down her thighs and then back up along the inside of her thighs. Her hands reached for him and he stopped a moment, saw she was bleeding, saw broken nails… they didn't hurt… it didn't matter, but he stopped and said "Give me your hands."
She'd give him anything he asked, held out her hands, broken and bleeding nails she didn't feel right now.
He kissed at her knuckles one by one, Medi Gel and a sharp… blade from somewhere… Omni Tool? It didn't matter… as she watched, as he sat between her thighs in the rain, her skin tingling raindrops and sparks, her hands soaking him in… venom. It was venom. He gifted her hands back to her with kisses on her palms, set them on her stomach.
He watched her, and he was beautiful, purple iridescence and sparks, flares of color and glowing, always glowing.
His hands stroked along the insides of her thighs, light scratches from his nails and the tingling venom from his palms until she felt like twisting, then felt like bucking, his mouth bent to her clit after she arched up, his fused finger inside her and her head was bent back into wet leather with splashing water, cool rivulets along her shoulders and her hands on her stomach moving to hold his head, warm blue heat and his tongue the only thing that mattered in rushing streaks of hallucinatory rain.
They were both blue fire as he picked her up, moved to a wall and faced her toward it. She didn't move, didn't speak, couldn't stand. Didn't remember her name or his. Weakness and sparks and blue. He bent and lifted her off the ground with his arms under her thighs, his hands on her breasts with her pressed to the wall with his body, blue heat of his hands protecting her breasts from the cold metal but her knees and thighs were pressed against the cold. Her back was spread with the venom from his chest, his mouth at her throat, his cock thrust inside like home, like him, like them, only and ever.
She pressed her hands flat against the metal and met his thrusts with her hips and arms, his teeth set on the back of her neck and his familiar-true groan in her ear that meant he was well pleased. She tipped her head back against his shoulder and his mouth met hers, teeth and tongue and his harsh breath, words like names that weren't or were, beauty and belonging and sand and sea.
She was his.