"I've thought about this table," Inej whispers. "I can see it so clearly. You laid out on your back for me, felt scratching against your skin, looking up at me with wide eyes as I take my pleasure above you."

Kaz bites the inside of his cheek, hard, to keep his expression in check, but he can feel his ears flushing red and he knows Inej has noticed. He can only hope the lighting is low enough to hide it from the others.

It's the small hours of a good night in the Slat, doors locked and ground floor abuzz with conversation as his Crows take their ease, let their guards down a little. Even Kaz has allowed himself a few drinks in honour of Nina's rare visit and his head is buzzing pleasantly. He's seated at a card table with five others – Jesper, Nina, Rotty, Keeg, Inej – and every single one of them is cheating, of course. Kaz has been tracking Jesper's flickering fingers and Keeg's bulging sleeves for the better part of an hour now, and he's confident in his win – or at least he would be, if not for Inej.

Because Inej is cheating too, but with entirely different tactics.

They've gotten braver recently. After the first few hesitant touches and chaste kisses – some ending well, some horribly - they learned a few tricks. It's easier when she touches him, for a start – easier for both of them – and it's easier too to experiment with new kinds of touch and pressure when they're both fully clothed, working up to skin-on-skin contact only when they're confident it will go well. It's fine, better than fine really, but every time Inej returns to sea the want twists in Kaz like one of her knives, vicious and insistent, and he barely knows what to do with himself. He is insufferable for weeks every time, pacing the Slat like a caged lion and lashing out at anyone who comes near.

Until the first letter.

The majority of Inej's opening gambit had been innocent enough, a coded record of ports, contacts, battles won. But when he turned the page it continued in an altogether different tone, the script wavering a little as if her always-steady hand had shaken as she wrote.

I miss you more than I dreamed possible. I feel I left at just the wrong moment, just as we were starting to master this new language together. The thought of everything I'm missing haunts me, especially at night, so I close my eyes and touch myself and imagine it's you. I don't have gloves but I wrap my fingers in the sheets and it helps the illusion, makes it more real. I have to bite my tongue to keep from calling your name.

Do you think of me too, Kaz? Do you touch yourself when you do? Tell me about it, please – I want some new images to keep me warm at night.

Yours,

Inej

He wrestles with himself for almost a fortnight over whether and how to reply, but eventually, well. When has he ever been able to deny Inej anything she desired? His reply is short, almost harsh, but it's the best he can do for her right now.

Inej,

Yes, I think of you. At night, in the morning, in negotiations, on jobs. It's a distraction. Touching myself skin to skin remains difficult, but I think having you there to bear witness would make it easier. Come back so we can test the theory.

Yours,

K.

They get braver from that point on – Inej, especially. Every time she returns to Ketterdam they manage to push a little further, explore a little more, and when she leaves she sends him letters detailing exactly what she wants to try next time. Kaz still finds it hard to put his thoughts into writing; it leaves him feeling horribly vulnerable in a way he simply cannot stomach without her physically present to reassure him – but it doesn't seem to matter. Once Inej is confident in the effect she's having, she needs little encouragement to continue, and the fire with which he greets her return every time is more than enough to prove her missives are appreciated.

Tonight is no exception. The Wraith docked this afternoon and they haven't yet managed to steal a moment alone, but Kaz sees the heated glances Inej has been sending him and knows it's only a matter of time. It's always been like this with them - and whatever else they may be, they both know the value of patience.

This time though… This time it's not only glances that Inej has been sending his way. Somewhere on the high seas, his Wraith seems to have considered the possibility that the power of words is not limited to the page alone. And so she has been testing this theory since she docked, leaning over at more and more frequent intervals to whisper more and more filthy things in his ear.

It's a good thing Kaz has iron self-control, because he's been hard as a rock since Inej leaned casually over to him at dinner and informed him she'd cum three times in a row the previous night, his name on her lips. But it is now well past midnight, and Kaz is suffering.

Beside him, Inej leans forward to place her card, leg brushing his beneath the table. It would seem like incidental contact if they were anyone except who they are, and Kaz fights to keep his breathing even. Across the table, Nina is trying and failing to hide a fiendishly gleeful expression behind her fan of cards. Kaz refuses to speculate on what their body language may be telling her and flicks his card onto the pile instead, barely looking at it. Inej settles back in her chair as he does so, angling her head towards his without breaking her gaze on the game. Kaz braces himself.

"Have you ever had your hair pulled, Kaz?" she asks innocently. "Sometimes I think about it. Knotting my fingers in your hair and forcing your head back, imagining the way your mouth would drop open in surprise. You wouldn't expect it, but I think you'd like it." Her gaze slides sideways, catching his own. "I think you'd let me do it, too. What do you think?"

Frankly, Kaz is beyond thinking. He squeezes his eyes shut, fighting for control, but all he can see behind his lids is the image she paints for him. Inej looming over him, her deft fingers tight in his hair. The sweetness of the tension, the vulnerability of his exposed throat. His blood is loud in his ears and for a crazy moment he thinks he's being heartrended.

He opens his eyes, forcefully clears his throat. "Enough," he tries to say, but it comes out as a croak. Luckily, Inej is the only one who hears, but he still feels his cheeks burn. He shakes himself, shoves his chair back. Levers abruptly to his feet and throws his cards face up on the table. He has the winning hand, of course, but it couldn't matter less right now.

"I'm done for tonight," he announces. He aims for his usual rasp, but his voice sounds strange to his ears. "I'll take my winnings in the morning."

Kreeg nods. Rotty is already flipping through his cards, verifying the win – not noticing anything amiss. Jesper is staring. Nina has her fists pressed to her mouth, cheeks pink and eyes sparkling with poorly repressed delight. He doesn't dare to look at Inej.

"Boss, what-"

"Leave it, Jesper." He summons a glare, then spins on his heel, stumping towards the staircase. His chest is heaving and all he can think is get out, get out, get out, don't let them see, don't let them –

Behind him, Nina lets out a high-pitched giggle, and while Kaz doesn't quite break into a run, it's a closer thing than it should be.

He limps up the stairs as quickly as he can, cane thumping. He unlocks the door with a flick of his wrist, wrenches it open, slams it shut behind him. He barely hears it. He makes straight for the bed instead, dropping his cane with a clatter and collapsing backwards onto it. He mashes his palms into his eyes, trying to master his breathing and regain a sense of control. His shoulders are shaking, he can feel it. He wishes he couldn't.

He feels utterly, utterly overwhelmed. Somewhere on the heels of Inej's last whisper the thrill turned to fear, sudden vulnerability curdling in his stomach and overwhelming the flames of desire, even as it had stoked them a half-second before. He can't do this, he can't. He doesn't know how. He doesn't know how to be, if he is not master of himself. He groans aloud, the faces of all his Crows swimming behind his lids. Jesper. Rotty. Kreeg. Nina and her fucking giggling. His fingers tense, flex, tense again in claws, nails digging into the leather of his gloves. Instead of coming under control, he can feel his breaths getting faster, shallower, whistling through his teeth. The mattress is shaking. And somewhere in the middle of his rising panic –

"Easy, Kaz," says a familiar voice. And suddenly there is a firm weight across his throat, something heavy and smooth and cold against his skin.

He opens his eyes.

Inej.

Inej is standing over the bed, filling his vision, and in her steady grip –

She is pressing his own cane against his throat, silver crow's head bright against her sun-dark palm.

Kaz stops breathing.

Frantic thoughts flicker through his mind – How did she get in before him? Did she plan this? Did the others see her go? Do they know? Do they – but then Inej leans forward, pressing down just a little bit more on the cane, and his world narrows to that single point of contact.

He meets her eyes, dark and smug. He swallows. Opens his mouth to say something. Hesitates. Dimly, he is aware that he is no longer shaking. Somewhere in the distance, the embers of desire are stirring to life once more. He swallows again, and deliberately closes his mouth.

"Interesting," Inej purrs.

She steps closer, moving smoothly over him so she's kneeling on the bed, caging his hips without actually making contact. Her other hand grasps the free end of his cane so she holds it in two hands, the line of it a solid threat against his windpipe. She leans forward, the tip of her braid trailing over her shoulder to brush his stomach through his vest. He can't feel it, he knows he can't, but he imagines he can and it's enough to make him shudder.

"Do you like this, Kaz?" she asks, her gaze knife-sharp.

He scowls at her, opening his mouth for a gruff reply, but something stops him. He looks at her, really looks. He is pinned beneath her like a beetle on a board, entirely at her mercy, and she is triumphant with it. Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes sparkling, and her breathing is as shallow as his was minutes before. And he… he should hate this, he knows. Kaz Brekker is presence and power and control to his fingertips, his vicelike self-discipline the source of his success. It has enabled him to fight back monsters, bring down kingdoms, overcome impossible odds. He prevents anyone from seeing cracks in his façade simply by ensuring there never are any in the first place, it's as simple as that.

Except with Inej. Inej, who has always been his one exception.

And he would be lying to himself if he didn't admit the thrill her words had sparked in him when she leaned over the card table. A thrill rapidly followed by panic, admittedly, but now that they are alone he feels it spark again, stronger, raising the hairs on his arms beneath his sleeves. There is a certain sharp pleasure in this vulnerability, and it's magnified by the hungry look in Inej's eyes. He wants to be vulnerable for her, to let go, but he doesn't really know how. Inej seems to know though, and perhaps that's enough for them both.

"Do you like this?" she asks again, an edge of uncertainty creeping into her voice for the first time.

"Yes," he rasps, and it feels like pulling teeth to admit it aloud, feels himself flushing dark in shame and anger. But Inej grins at his response, sudden and brilliant, and something loosens in his chest.

"I thought you might," she murmurs, leaning further forward still so her lips almost touch the shell of his ear. "Beneath it all, it seems the fearsome Dirtyhands just wants someone else to take control."

He can feel the heat of her breath stirring his hair and it sends another shiver through him. Inej notices it – he doesn't need to see her face to know she's smirking – and leans even closer, just enough to close her sharp teeth on his earlobe. He bucks, forgetting her position, and almost dislodges her, breath leaving him in a sharp gasp as the cane traps the movement at his throat. Inej moves easily with him despite her surprise, almost as if his bucking hips were the rolling deck of her ship. She waits just long enough for him to drop back to the mattress before rolling her own hips down, hard, into his, grinding against him just for a moment before lifting up to straddle him without touching once again. Despite himself, Kaz moans through gritted teeth.

Inej sits back, settling her weight on the tops of his thighs so she has a front-row view of the effect she's having on him. She catches his eye and raises a brow slightly as she does so, checking without words that this is not too much for his bad leg. This high up, it's usually fine, as she knows well – but she never fails to check. He nods minutely against the pressure of the cane and Inej smiles, lifting it to trail the tip in a cold path from the soft spot just below his jaw down his neck to where the hollow of his clavicle rests unseen beneath his collar. "Off," she says simply.

He raises gloved hands to obey, nimble fingers working quickly despite their trembling. First the vest, then the shirt, both falling open to reveal the hard planes and twisting scars of his torso. She smiles at the sight of him, something predatory in her expression. "All of it," she tells him, running the length of his cane casually through her fingers. He follows the movement for a moment, hypnotised, then shakes himself. Half sits up, stomach muscles tensing, to undo the buttons at his cuffs and push the fabric back from his shoulders to pool in a heap beside the bed. He drops back onto the mattress and Inej regards him, expectant. "All of it, Kaz."

For a moment, he doesn't understand. Inej is still straddling him, and he can't undo his trousers without disturbing her. It's only when she drops her gaze meaningfully to his hands, black leather stark against the white sheets, that he realises what she has in mind.

His breath stutters but he does his best to look unaffected, stripping the gloves efficiently from his hands before moving to drop them with the rest, but Inej stops him, palm outstretched. For a moment he just stares at her, frozen. Then he gives them to her.

Of course he does. He would give her anything.

Inej's lips quirk as she slips her hands into his gloves, loose on her slender fingers. She tucks the ends carefully into her sleeves, ensuring no skin is left exposed. And then she leans forward again, slow and deliberate, and presses her gloved hand down hard over his heart.

The pressure is a trap and a balm all at once and Kaz's breath leaves him in a rush, like he's been punched in the stomach. He knows Inej must be able to feel his blood skittering frantically under her touch. He fixes his eyes on her face, a lifeline, and he can see her analysing him, cataloguing every flicker of expression. Then just as deliberately, he feels the thumb of her free hand press into the vee of his hips, just above his belt, before the rest of her fingers wrap tight around the outside of his hip. She grips him hard enough to bruise, fingertips digging viciously into his flesh, the texture of leather both familiar and foreign against his skin. And then she waits, watching him. The pressure and pain of her hold is maddening, thrilling and terrifying at the same time and he wants, he wants, he wants. He doesn't know what he wants, exactly, but he wants it desperately.

"Shall I kiss you, Kaz?" Inej whispers.

"Yes," he answers, embarrassingly quick. "Kiss me."

She kisses him hard, capturing his open mouth with her own. Her lips are warm and soft, desperately so, but the strength behind them is implacable and Kaz finds himself bucking upwards again, trying to lose himself in her. He chases her pirate's tongue with his own, eyes scrunching closed despite himself as she sucks his lower lip into her mouth, nips hard enough to draw blood, and Kaz writhes beneath her, something that sounds suspiciously like a whine breaking free of him – and Inej abruptly pulls back.

Mindlessly he follows her, chasing her warmth – and is pulled up short by a shocking wrench. Inej, Inej – Inej's fist is knotted in his hair, holding him back, angling his head up so his throat is exposed as he stares at her above him, just like she said he would, and the sharp pain of it is delicious but it's nothing to the glitter in Inej's eyes that tells him he's walked right into her trap. And Saints but he loves her like this, all sly and sharp and dangerous.

For a moment they simply look at each other, a breathless tableau, and then Inej smiles, slow and knife-wicked. "Do you know what you look like?" she asks, eyes hungry and voice hoarse. "Saints Kaz, if you could see yourself… You look so damned pretty like this."

Unbidden, another near-whine wrenches itself from his throat. For a split second, Inej just looks startled – at him, at her own power, he has no idea – and he averts his gaze, abruptly furious and ashamed, tugging at her grip on his hair.

"No," Inej says, hooking her fingers through his strands more firmly and twisting his head back to face her. Her voice is gentle, her touch anything but. "None of that. You deserve to know what you look like. You deserve…," she falters momentarily under the unguarded heat of his appraisal, but forges on. "You deserve to know what you do to me, Kaz. Watch."

He does.

He watches as Inej sits back on his hips, one hand still knotted tight in his hair, while the other flicks open the button of her trousers. She slips her fingers – still gloved, still wearing his gloves, he's going out of his mind – out of sight, but he can see the movement of her knuckles through the fabric, can tell the moment she touches her core, because her whole body snaps with it, head thrown sharply back.

"Saints Kaz," Inej gasps, fingers already working faster, "if you had any idea…"

He twists against her grip, unable to help himself, hand drifting towards his crotch. He feels intuitively that he should probably wait, probably earn it, but watching her like this has him aching and even his famous self-control has limits. He palms himself through his trousers and Inej's gaze snaps back to him, their hands only inches apart. He freezes, guilty, and Inej keens, rolling her hips above him.

"Touch yourself," she commands, breathless. "Show me what you do when I'm not here."

He doesn't hesitate. Sometimes the feel of skin on skin, even his own, is too much – but he's so far gone already that it barely makes him flinch. He takes himself firmly in hand, tugging along his length and swiping his thumb over the slit to spread the moisture beaded there, trying to force himself to go slow, to make it last. But Inej's hand is working just above his own, her pace already frantic, the trembling of her legs making the whole mattress shake even as her grip remains firm on his hair.

"Kaz, ah, Saints," she stutters. With effort, she tips her chin down, meets his gaze frankly even as her breath pants through her open lips. "Don't hold back," she tells him, voice shaking. "I want to see you come undone for me."

It's all the permission he needs. He begins to move in earnest now, slamming his hips upwards to meet his fist on the downstroke. Small noises escape him, desperate moans and whimpers that sound more animal than human, and Kaz has never been this far gone in his life, never been less conscious of how he looks and sounds.

Above him, Inej's body suddenly pulls tight and releases like a bowstring, expelling her breath in something that sounds almost like a laugh, high and hysterical, and that's all it takes – Kaz is falling, vision whiting out as he spills himself in spurts across his thighs. Did he make a noise? He doesn't even know, just knows that Inej's grip in his hair is his only tether to reality as he goes boneless, dropping back to the mattress.

And then her fingers are releasing their hold at last to card through his hair instead, brushing the sticky strands back from his forehead. When he opens his eyes she's curled on her side next to him, not quite touching, dark eyes searching his face.

"What is it?" he asks. His voice sounds strange, cracking down the middle.

"Nothing," she shakes her head. "Just you."

He raises an eyebrow. As the pleasure recedes, the sense of embarrassment and vulnerability is beginning to return, curling under his skin. He feels uneasy, unlike himself. Not sure how to act.

Inej sees it, of course. She knows him too well. She reaches out to brush a thumb over his cheekbone, and the leather is sticky on his skin. Sticky with her, he realises abruptly, his breath stuttering. Inej seems to realise it in the same moment because she freezes, just for a heartbeat. Then she resumes the movement, continuing the path of her thumb until it rests against the pad of his lower lip. He stares at her. She stares back.

He opens his lips just slightly, and tastes Inej on the leather of his own gloves. She tastes salty-sweet, foreign, and Kaz finds himself revelling in the taste, swirling his tongue until all trace of her is gone.

"You've been so good, Kaz," she whispers wonderingly. "So good for me, beloved."

Beloved. Kaz's heart squeezes painfully. "Anything for you," he tells her, meaning every word. "Anything for you, Inej."