So what you trying to do to me?
It's like we can't stop, we're enemies
But we get along when I'm inside you, yeah
You're like a drug that's killing me
I cut you out entirely
But I get so high when I'm inside you

- Maroon 5 - Animals -

He went to his quarters after that. He was tired. He hated this, hated having to think about every emotion that flickered across his face, every movement of his body. He missed the good old days of strategy and sniping and bodyguarding, when he didn't have to worry about his expression or his body language unless he was around them, and even then it was just keeping it respectful.

He lay down on his bed, and grasping the knife under his pillow, he closed his eyes and drifted off.

Ines did call him up that night, although it was closer to the morning by that point. She was curious. And she wanted to satisfy that.

He woke at the buzzer, acknowledging the call and getting up. He showered quickly and brushed his teeth, dragging a comb through his hair before dressing in his typical crimson and black, and heading for the lift. He'd kept her waiting already, better not push it.

The aid had said the penthouse, so that was where he went, knocking on the door briskly.

She opened the door, for once not dressed in fatigues or her pantsuit, and instead in a t-shirt and loose jeans. "Don't tell me I caught you sleeping, Colonel," she smirked when she saw him, raising an eyebrow at him. "Come in."

He gave her a grin, but his heart sank. Fuck. She's taking me up on this. He stepped inside. "Just taking a nap while I could. Never know when I might need to be awake for a day or two straight. It happens."

"Mm, I suppose it's a good policy," she agreed, shutting the door behind him and leading him further into the penthouse. "Want a beer?"

"Sure, thanks," he said, following her in. It was odd to be in Jim's apartment without Jim. It felt wrong. Mainly because it was. The place had been redecorated slightly, furniture shifted around, some items removed or replaced, but for the most part it was the same as it had always been.

She led him into the open layout kitchen and grabbed a couple of beers from the fridge, turning and handing him one with the thud of glass against skin. She opened hers, took a sip, and considered him for a minute. "I've never been fucked by an employee before. I'm not certain why I'm making an exception."

"Because I'm that damn pretty," he deadpanned, opening the bottle on the edge of the counter and taking a sip.

She laughed. "You're pretty, and you kiss like your life depends on it. Potent combo," she chuckled, drinking more of her beer, eyes lingering on him in interest.

He laughed at that, trying to relax. "Might, with you. I'd hate to displease," he shot back, smirking as he sipped his own beer more slowly.

She leaned against the counter, watching him. "Who gave you those scars, Moran?"

"Which ones?" he asked with a grin, but he raised a hand anyway, considering his words. "I'm surprised you don't know. You seem to know everything."

She stepped forward, closer to him, examining the scars on his face, her lips slightly parted. "No, I don't know everything. I've never heard anything about these, excepting the fact you have them."

He took the chance to observe her, as well. The smooth, ebony skin and black eyes, the broad lips, a gentle transition from pink to brown.

"I got locked up in solitary. A tiny root cellar with a three-foot ceiling for a few months. You're looking at my entertainment."

"No, no, not those. I know about that," she shook her head, lifting up her hand to trace her finger over the scar crossing the bridge of his nose. "These two."

He grinned. "Oh, that? I pushed Jim a little too far, he reminded me where the line was. With a broken glass, if I remember correctly." He shrugged.

She raised her eyebrows. "Healed well, for it being broken glass. What did you tell the infirmary? I never heard about the reason until now," she asked, her fingers finishing their trace and falling to rest on his chest.

He laughed. "I don't go to the infirmary unless I have to. Made Harrison stitch me up. Would have done it myself, but I had trouble getting near the eye without closing it.

She laughed. "Well I won't play nurse for you, if that's your thing," she said, smiling. "I'm not much of a caregiver." She slowly pressed her fingers slowly into his chest, eyes challenging him to do something about it.

He chuckled. "I might not be a reader, but I picked that up," he said, reaching up a hand to catch her wrist, thumb sliding along her pulse point. "You're more of a... control freak..."

"I like things how I like them," she agreed, eyes predatory on him. She set the bottle of beer aside on the counter, then returned her gaze to him. "Are you finished with your beer?"

He tipped the rest of the beer back in a few swift gulps, and set the bottle aside with a clink. "Very," he returned with a smile, nipping the tip of the fingers he had in hand before releasing his grip.

Her fingers fell from his grip and grabbed his shirt, pulling him into a rough kiss. She would own him tonight.

He kissed her back, vicious and severe. He wasn't going to back down without a fight. Somewhere his brain was flagging this issue that this wasn't Harrison, but his body was responding and she was hitting all the right buttons...

She managed to boost herself onto the counter without breaking the kiss, pulling him closer, wrapping her legs around his waist, letting him largely dominate the kiss. She would pay him back in kind later.

He pushed his tongue into her mouth, grabbing her hips and pulling her against him, grinding against her a little.

I have to do this to keep Lorna safe. So I might as well enjoy it.

She kissed him harder in response to the grinding, humming, hooking her fingers in his belt loops and starting to tug his trousers down.

He slid his hands up underneath her tee-shirt, fingers tracing out smooth skin. He encountered the ridge of a scar along her right side, from her hip back, and traced it for a moment before moving upward again.

She left his trousers for the moment, hands skimming up to his shirt, where she began unbuttoning. She didn't bother telling him that they were on camera, and that she planned to show the video to her prisoners.

He stepped back just long enough to get rid of his shirt, sending a cufflink flying god-knew-where in his haste. Then he was back, kissing her again and pulling her shirt upward, stepping back just long enough to pull it over her head.

Ines lifted up her ass just enough to grab the condom from her back pocket, slapping it onto the counter beside them, before her hands became busy unbuckling his belt. God, he was an amazing kisser.

He pulled away from her fascinatingly full lips to meander along her razor-sharp jawline. He grabbed the condom and ripped it open, before setting it aside again until he needed it. His hands found her breasts, then, exploring them through her bra. They were smaller than Lorna's, but they fit neatly into his palms, and he squeezed them experimentally.

She arched into his hands, encouraging his exploration, her hands freeing him of his belt and immediately sliding one of her hands inside his trousers and squeezing him through his pants, an appreciative moan rising out of her throat. "My, my, Colonel," she grinned against his lips, "Do you carry a permit for this?"

He let out a surprised bark of laughter, which turned into a groan as she squeezed him again. "Never been asked for one before. Maybe I should," he retorted, shifting a hand up to grip her hair gently, pulling her head to the side just enough to gain access to her neck, which he availed himself of readily.

She chuckled, then made a soft sound, obviously appreciating the attention. She pushed his trousers down further and gained better access to his hard-on, starting up a slow rhythm with her hand. "If you don't have a permit, how can I know you know how to wield it properly?"

"Well," he said, between leaving a small mark beneath her ear and exploring the shell of her ear itself, "I suppose the most efficient method would be a trial run."

She hummed in agreement, slipping her hand into his pants and finding him hot and heavy in her hand. "Trial run it is, then..."

He grinned against her skin, nipping lightly. "Staying on the counter?" he asked, reaching for the condom.

"If you get me out of these jeans, I don't see why not," she replied, pulling him out of his pants and pushing them down and out of the way. "I'm flexible."

"'If,'" he scoffed, pulling back and undoing the fastening of the jeans, before lifting her in his arms and pulling them down and off with his free hand. He set her down, tossed the jeans aside, and picked up the condom again, actually rolling it into place this time as he stepped out of his pants.

You're enjoying yourself too much, Moran...

She wasn't wearing pants beneath, and she didn't waste time pulling him closer, scooting forward and pulling hips closer so she could rub against him, leaning up to kiss him again.

He groaned happily, rocking against her slowly. Getting a feeling for the unfamiliar. His right hand left her hair, matching his left on her hip, and he gripped firmly, fingers leaving marks, controlling her movements, challenging.

She let that continue for a minute before she grabbed his hips with her knees, stopping his movements, and she reached between them to line him up, and, raising her eyebrows at him, released her hold on his waist.

He laughed, but didn't comment, just pushed into her slowly, holding her gaze, lips pressed together to hold back a moan.

Her eyes slipped closed as he slid home, a satisfied groan leaving her. "Jesus..." she muttered, eyes opening again to look at him and rocking her hips forward again.

He took a slow breath, letting out a groan. He had been with Lorna for so long, he'd almost forgotten how different women could feel. What it was like to experience a new partner and all the different quirks and the room for exploration...

Fuck, Moran... get a hold of yourself. This is a job.

Ines was really starting to understand the people who regularly fucked their employees. She doubted they could all be as rewarding as this, but Christ, did Moran make a compelling case. He was a tall mountain of a man, and his cock was proportional. "Christ, how the fuck did little Harrison take you," she breathed, and pulled him closer again, making it clear it was time to go.

"She's versatile," he grunted as he immediately started moving. She didn't seem like the kind to like things gentle, and he didn't make any attempt to be. "Fucking is her job." He grabbed onto Ines's arse, pulling her against him more solidly with each thrust.

She got a grip on his biceps to get the leverage to move with him, something close to a snarl on her face, a look that said she was going to take as much from him as he would let her wrest from his grip, her movements rough and unpracticed - not the smooth rhythm of someone who did it for a living, who did it and made it look good, no matter how convoluted the position.

He let her take control, though he still provided much of the power. There was a clumsiness to her movements, but she made up for it in strength and force of will, her eyes full of challenge and thirst. His muscles burned and protested, unused to this sort of movement, but he was lost in heat of a different nature, originating from his cock and the places where her fingers bit into his skin.

She was observant, had trained herself to be, and saw the way his pupils darkened as her nails dug into his skin, and hardened the pressure, trying to get just a little more drive out of him, a little more force, drive him a few more feet up the wall...

He snarled at the pain in his arms, pulling her more firmly to him as he left any reservations he might have had, his hips pounding between her thighs as he fucked her mercilessly. He bit her shoulder, teeth digging into skin.

She hissed, bit him back, teeth drawing blood from the crook of his neck, not so much punishing as giving back what he gave her, energy building up in her spine.

He cursed against her skin when he felt her teeth puncture him. His whole body was singing with energy, and he knew he wasn't going to last much longer. Not after months of celibacy. He started grinding his hips slightly then when he had the chance, hoping to give her clit a little friction to catch her up to speed.

She started to lose her rhythm as he began grinding on her, her breath coming a little shakier, one of her hands falling from his bicep to slap onto the counter, keeping her upright. "Just a little more, Colonel," she said, strained, pressing her forehead against his now-injured shoulder.

He grunted in response, his grip on her ass tightening as he struggled for control, taking short, sharp breaths as he felt himself teetering on the edge. He continued the grinding motion, trying to focus on the tension of her body, the way she was trembling, fighting to hold out.

The sustained motion finally tipped her over the edge and she swore, the hand on his bicep squeezing as hard as she could, her breath coming fast as she arched off the counter.

He came as soon as she did, the sudden rhythmic pressure around his cock not giving him much of a choice. He cried out wordlessly, his hands sliding up to grip her shoulders and hold her against him as he rode the orgasm out.

She panted against his shoulder for a minute, letting him remain against her, then shifted to move him away. "Well done, Colonel. Enjoy the rest of your night."

He nodded, stepping back slowly. He pulled the condom off and tied it, tossing it into the bin and hauling up his trousers, still catching his breath. He hadn't expected any differently from her. "You, too, boss." He zipped his trousers, gave a lazy salute, and headed for the door, doing his best not to think about the situation. Or Lorna. Fuck. Lorna.

Ines watched him go, then got herself back together. Once she'd showered, she went to the computer controlling the video cameras and got to work.

He returned to his room and turned the shower on, and after a moment's thought cranked the heat up as high as it would go. He was beginning to feel the guilt worming its way into him.

I enjoyed that far too much.

What else could I do? If I refused she would have died.

That's a rather large leap to make.

But not improbable!

The next day, Jim and Lorna were reunited for the first time since they'd been imprisoned, both brought to a separate room in the basement, this one used for video torture. It was, simply, a mini theater, with a couple of chairs that could be bolted to attachments on the floor, and straps for every appendage. There was a projector embedded in the wall. The opposite wall, which was painted white for the purpose of being a movie screen, doubled as cabinets, but they could only be opened by applying pressure in the right places. Usually, they used hypnotic suggestion, doctored footage, or pure gore to torture the people who were slated for regular visits to the room, so neither of them quite knew what to expect.

Ines was in her penthouse, having passed the tape on to their captors. She was content to watch their reactions on CCTV later, when she wasn't busy.

Jim shifted uncomfortably as they strapped him down, fighting against the restraints before they managed to secure his head. He was in a permanent state of brooding fury recently, and he wanted nothing to do with this room.

"Harrison. Are you injured?" he asked through grit teeth.

"No, you?" She asked, not fighting the restraints, looking at him out of the corner of her eye as they secured her head in place. The blue loading screen of the projector powered on.

"No. Just fucking furious," he said dryly. "Why exactly have we been hauled out into this lovely theater?"

She shrugged as much as she could as the screen turned black, and the guards left, shutting the door behind them. Then, without any prelude, what looked like security footage of... Jim's penthouse? Saxophone music began playing in the background of the video. Her eyebrows shot up. "What is this, a bad porno?"

He withheld judgment for a few moments, but then Moran and the woman came on screen, and he sighed, bracing himself. "Yes. That about sums it up."

She grimaced, her stomach churning slightly. But this was a golden opportunity to tell Jim Moran's allegiances... except. There, in the corner of the room, the blue blinking light of a security camera, directed straight at their faces. Any decent lip reader could see what she was saying. And despite the fact Moran was sharing a beer on camera very close to Ines, she didn't want to blow his cover. But she had to say something to Jim, to stop him from doing anything stupid in vengeance. "Jim..." she started, trying to make it hard to read her lips and have enough volume to be heard under the saxophone and the loud talking on screen. "Moran's mine, understand?"

He sighed, watching the screen as Ines and Moran talked and laughed. "Don't be an idiot, Harrison. It ill suits you."

"No, Jim, I mean it. He wasn't serious. Just... don't do anything dumb. Don't let vengeance blind you. You see?" She insisted, ignoring the screen as best she could, but she was still aware of the fact Ines was now touching the scars on Sebastian's face.

"I am not blind," he hissed back. "You are. Fuck you, Harrison, and your fucking emotions. You ruined my best man. Turned him into fucking emotional goop." He took a breath, closed his eyes and received an electric shock for the trouble. He opened them again in time to see Ines pulling Moran into a deep kiss. The saxophone got more energetic.

She gave an exaggerated sigh. Christ Jim...

"Jim, I'm... this isn't being me," she said, trying not to give too much away, hoping that his reading ability would kick in. The two continued kissing on screen. "I'm not being emotional. Don't be stubborn. Think."

He rolled his eyes. "I get the idea Harrison. Just fucking drop it, alright?" God, this woman was slow. How stupid did she think he was? The woman on the screen, however, was not. He was fairly certain her tongue was somewhere well past Moran's tonsils.

She rolled her eyes right back at him, letting out a frustrated groan, but she dropped it. She couldn't say anything more without revealing Moran. For such a smart man, Jim was a colossal idiot sometimes.

Moran and Ines' hands were beginning to wander now, and Lorna did not like how eager he was. Tone it down, dude...

He took a breath, and prepared to watch what he was certain was going to be a nauseating performance.

He'd had his suspicions about Moran's loyalties since a few hours after they'd first seen him with the woman, which he had gathered support for by observation. Lorna's rather unsubtle attempt at conversation just strengthened everything. For a grifter, she could be painfully blaisé sometimes, but then, all non-readers were.

Moran's trousers were down now, and despite the fact that he was fairly certain his bodyguard was playing the long game, it was disquieting to see him so content in the arms of their enemy. He didn't fight her touch remotely. In fact, he seemed content there. Eager, perhaps. For the first time in days, Jim's conviction faltered. Moran wasn't a grifter. He had never been able to do much more than suppress emotion, though he did that well. The man in the screen in front of him was eager to be in this woman's arms, and more.

Lorna watched with a nauseous feeling in her stomach, her eyes glued to Sebastian. She was conflicted by what she saw. She had begun to teach him the basics of grifting a long time ago, when they were dealing with Armetti. Being a grifter herself, she knew that once you were in the zone, it was easy to fuck someone. To just turn off the part of your brain that liked speaking about rights and wrongs and just let the animal loose for a little while. The enthusiasm that he was showing for Ines, though... This was a situation he could have avoided. He'd volunteered for it, right in front of her. She bit the inside of her cheek, trying to stop the emotions welling up in her.

Jim did his best to ignore the swelling saxophone music and tune out what was on the screen, but his brain was a traitor as well, it seemed, and cataloged every moment carefully. The way Moran held the woman almost gently as he removed her trousers, the way he relaxed as he entered her, the eager roll of his hips with each movement as he started up a rough pace.

It was so hard not to close her eyes, to try and shield them from seeing this, so instead she just let them go blurry, out of focus, ignoring her name as it was spoken. She tightened her grip on the armrests of the chairs, unable to tune out the sounds, their groans, Sebastian's groans. Those were for her, and sometimes Jim. This hurt.

Jim eventually gave up on ignoring and started reading instead, trying to figure out everything he could about the woman as she swore and clawed and bucked against the man that was perhaps his only friend.

She had taken Moran from him, in more ways than one, and he intended to get revenge.

If there was one thing she could be comforted with, it was that there was no way Moran had known he was being filmed. He would never agree to such a thing, grifting or not, and the enthusiasm would have been lost. He hadn't done this to hurt her. That was the best she could give herself. She tightened her jaw as they came, wondering if now she could look away.

Moran left and the screen went black, the saxophone music stopping abruptly. Jim shifted a little, preparing to be removed, but then the music started up again, and they were watching the empty room again, before Ines and Moran came on screen again, started drinking beer again, and he settled back to watch it all over again.

In total, they watched the film a total of twenty-two times that day. And each time he watched it he noticed one more body signal that damned Moran, one more movement that told him that the man was thoroughly enjoying this, that convinced him that he had let his affection for the man blind him (a truly nauseating realization). The more he watched, the more angry he became. Not because of the film (it was clear Moran had no idea of its existence, and that the woman was showing it to them to fuck with them) but because he could see Moran enthusiastically losing himself to this woman, and that was the extent of his trust.

It was disconcerting how much the movie affected her. She was a grifter, supposed to be immune to sex. But when they took her back to her regular cell she wanted to gouge her eyes out just to stop the haunting images from playing over and over and over again.