A/N: Sorry for the long wait between chapters. It's been one of those months where real life has really gotten in the way of everything else. To the reviewer (sorry I'm too tired to look up your pen name) who complained that I was copy-catting and writing porn: this is very clearly an M-rated fic. If you're not into it, don't read it.
As always, thank to those of you still reviewing, favourite-ing, and following this fic. And you can always pop on over to my Tumblr to say hi or ask questions or whatever (BleuWrites dot Tumblr, etc). I love you all.
Good luck today. Love you. - T
I finger the note Tobias left on the nightstand. As things go, it's a new low. Since the trial and our tryst in the Control Room things have been... well, not awful, but certainly not good. We barely speak, and our silences are heavy and awkward. He hasn't asked how I found out about Caleb and if he knows I was at the Hub - let alone at the execution - he hasn't even alluded to it.
And aside from holding me while I sleep he's barely touched me. We've been reduced to chaste kisses and awkward hand holding, something that even when we first got together we barely experienced. But him scurrying out the door before I even wake up... it just reinforces the growing distance between us.
I leave the note and get dressed. The training rooms are still empty when I get there and I use the time setting up for the new trainees. When they start trickling through the door I'm busy working on my knife throwing skills. Our last group was so unskilled they thought everything Christina and I did was amazing. It's going to take more to impress this lot, our Chosen One's who are going to venture outside the fence.
Christina follows the last of the stragglers in and we quickly go over the training schedule. This morning though, we're starting with the basics, getting a baseline for where all these people are so we know how to get them where they need to be. Knife throwing is the first skill up, and it's a good thing. Dauntless don't often have to throw knives outside initiation and it shows. Within minutes the sounds of twenty knives whistling through the air fill the room, spinning through space in flashes of silver before impacting the wooden targets with a dull thunk, or falling to the floor with a sharp clang.
I hang back, critically observing each trainees attempts. It's better than listening to the static in my head, of worrying about whether or not I used Tobias, hurt him, ruined things between us. It's better than losing myself in memories of him and what we did. More than once I've been toiling at some mundane task only to find myself submerged in the memory of the way he moved inside of me in the control room, the things that he said, the way I could taste him on the air between us. When I come back to reality there's a crushing guilt right along with the tingling ache between my legs because if his avoidance is anything to go by, it's not something he thinks of fondly.
And it's a guilt that's only compounded by grief because of Caleb. Because I should be mourning him, not fantasizing about sex. I've wondered more than once if it's just my minds way of dealing with the pain because while things are complicated with Tobias, Caleb's death and the way I feel about it is so much more complex and confusing. Every night he dies again in my dreams and I wake up screaming and crying. Tobias is there to hold me, but he feels a million miles away, and I end up crying because of that too.
My eyes land on a man a few people over from me. He's tall, broad shouldered, and the snake tattooed on his arm looks like it's writhing every time he flexes his muscles. He's also falling forward sloppily every time he releases the knife in his hand and completely missing the target.
I wind my way through the bodies between us and tap on his shoulder, holding my hand out for the knife he's gripping. He passes it to me without comment. I quietly explain his error and demonstrate the correct way, slowing down each of my movements so he can note the difference between what I'm doing and what he did before putting it all in motion and throwing the knife.
When I look back up his expression is stony. "I know how to throw a damn knife," he mutters to himself as I turn to walk away.
Maybe he was expecting the noise around us to conceal his voice, but I doubt it. It's not like I'm not used to passive-aggressive mutterings in these rooms - Dauntless pride runs deep -, so all I do is stare up him, keeping my expression carefully neutral. If I was Tobias I would get right in his face, just like he did with Peter on the first day we were initiates. If I was Eric I'd make him stand in front of the target as I threw knives at him. But I am not them, and this exercise just became about something entirely different from throwing knives. "Okay," I say simply, and walk away.
I don't have to look back to know that he's gaping at me, trying to figure out what is going on, if this little flutter of fear he's feeling that he just damaged his chances is real or imagined. I don't really care if he can hit the bullseye every time. What I care about is his ability to accept help, improve weak skills, and being smart enough to defer to others if they are better at something than him. The groups we're sending outside the fence have to work together as a team, and I have a feeling that's something that will be a problem for him.
With a half dozen words he's dug himself into a hole so deep he's going to have to work twice as hard as anyone in the room if he wants to dig himself out of it. Of course if he doesn't, one more comment like that and he won't so much damage his chances as end them.
I spend the rest of the morning working through the crowd until Christina and I are satisfied with their progress, and musing to myself about all the ways my aberrant pupil could screw up even more. It's better than thinking about the mess I've made in the other parts of my life.
The sounds of Uriah and Zeke bickering snaps me out of my stupor and back to the reality of the noisy dining hall.
"I still think we should all go zip-lining at the Hancock building," Uriah says as he sits down next to me. "Back me up on this Tris," he implores as he digs into his dinner.
"Sounds like fun," I say, but I can't quite match his enthusiasm for the idea. The last time we went to the Hancock building Marlene and Lynn were still alive, Shauna could still walk.
Marlene. I still haven't said anything about that to Uriah. I don't even know how to begin that conversation, but more than once lately they've both starred in my nightmares; Uriah screaming at me, Marlene's body - they're almost as bad as my nightmares about Caleb.
"See, I told you," Uriah says, smiling triumphantly at his brother on the other side of the table.
"And I told you Four won't be into it. He's never gone with us before. I think he's afraid of heights," Zeke says, looking at me like I'll confirm or deny the assumption.
Before I can do either, Uriah cuts me off. "That's stupid. He followed Tris up a Ferris wheel like a squirrel. He's not afraid of heights," he says flatly.
"Yeah, well, that was different," Zeke mumbles, more to his bowl of soup than either of us.
"Um... why are we going zip-lining?" I ask, feeling like I'm missing a big part of this conversation.
"For your wedding," Uriah says, his expression clearly tacking a 'duh' onto the end of the statement. "Zeke and I are throwing you guys an engagement party, so we're trying to figure out something special instead of just everybody getting trashed."
All I can do is gape at him. Because of me Marlene is dead and he's planning on throwing me a party. Guilt and grief twist my stomach like a knife, and I push my food away, afraid that if I take another bite it will just come right back up.
"There's going to be a lot of that too," Zeke interjects, oblivious to my turmoil. His eyes crinkle and lips turn up in a mischievous smile. "What Dauntless party would be complete without everyone getting shit faced?"
"You guys still planning my stag party?" Tobias asks as he sits down next to me. All his presence does is make me want to sink into the floor, disappear.
"Hardly a 'stag party' when you insist that your fiance and all the women we're friends with are there," Zeke points out, but judging by the pleased look on his face he doesn't mind a bit.
"We were thinking of zip-lining," Uriah chimes in, looking hopefully at Tobias.
Tobias shrugs his shoulders dismissively. I doubt anyone else can see the way his eyes tighten at the prospect, though maybe Zeke can because he's known him for so long and already suspects the reason he's never done it before.
"You don't think it's a good idea?" Uriah looks crestfallen.
"You guys go zip-lining every year. I thought you wanted to do something special, that's all."
"Yeah, but you've never done it, and Tris has only done it once." Uriah bumps into my shoulder playfully. "And you loved it, didn't you?"
"Yeah," I say weakly, my misery building every second I sit here. "It was great."
"Don't worry, we'll figure something out," Zeke interrupts, but gently. He guides the conversation to other topics, safer topics, with ease; he could never be Candor, I think.
I tick away the minutes, looking for an opportunity to excuse myself without drawing undue attention. I can feel Tobias' eyes on me though, each time they flick to where I'm sitting next to him it's like they're picking at him, asking silent questions.
Zeke and Uriah troop off to their apartment before I can make my escape. "What's wrong?" Tobias asks as soon as we're alone, his voice quiet so no one at the surrounding tables can hear us.
I cast around wildly for something to say, something that won't give away that I was there that day at the Hub because the way things are right now, I don't even want to think of the fight that would cause.
"You don't, um... I mean, if you just want to hang out with Zeke and your guy friends it's okay. I don't have to be there." I know the second the words are out of my mouth that Tobias can hear the lie in them.
He sets his knife and fork down carefully and lays his hands flat against the table before turning to me, his expression composed and mask-like. "I want you there," he says firmly. "But I also want to know what's really going on with you, so stop lying."
My cheeks flush angrily and I sit up ramrod straight, defensive. "Fine," I snap. "You want to know what's wrong? Fine. What's wrong is that Uriah is planning a party for us when he should hate me, when I'm the reason Marlene is dead. And don't try to tell me I'm being stupid about this because I'm not," I add. "If it wasn't a big deal you would have told him yourself."
If he didn't know before that I was at the Hub before he knows now, because it's unlikely anyone would have told me that detail. And I can see the wheels turning behind his eyes, putting two and two together. I push myself up from the table leaving the remains of my dinner behind.
"Where are you going?" He snaps.
"To talk to Uriah," I hiss at him. I'm gone before he can say anything else.
By the time I make it to the elevator in the Pire a cold sweat has broken out across my body and my hands are shaking so bad I have to squeeze them into fists and hide them in my coat pocket. My stomach rolls and heaves, but I force myself to take deep breaths through my nose so I don't throw up.
Zeke answers the door of their apartment, looking perplexed. "I need to talk to Uriah." My voice is weak and shaky, but Zeke doesn't say anything, just motions towards the hallway that leads to the bedrooms.
Uriah's stretched out in his bed, one arm tucked behind his head and book propped up on his chest when I walk in. Other than Caleb and Tobias' rooms I've never been in a boys room before and my eyes reel around looking for a place to sit that isn't the bed, which seems too intimate. Unfortunately other than a dresser and nightstands there's no other furniture in the room.
"Everything okay?" Uriah asks, an eyebrow cocked questioningly and his tone curious.
"I, um... needed to talk to you about something," I say uncertainly. I nudge the door almost closed and perch on the foot of the bed, realizing too late that my nerves are making my whole body tremble.
"Hey, it's okay," Uriah says soothingly, sitting up and putting his arm around my shoulder. It's so comforting and brotherly that it breaks what little control I've maintained all the way up here. "Did you and Four have a fight or something?"
"No," I choke out around a sob. He's being so nice and I can't stand it; all it makes me do is hate myself even more. "Marlene was on the roof that night because of me," I blurt out. "My brother said at his trial that he told Jeanine we were friends, that's why she picked Marlene to deliver her message and... and jump off the roof."
Uriah's hand stills where it had been rubbing up and down my arm, and I feel his body go rigid against mine as he takes in what I'm saying.
"I'm sorry, Uri," I whisper, eyes fixed on my hands where they're balled in my lap. "I didn't... I'm sorry." It sounds pathetic, and it is I suppose, but I don't know what else to say.
He's quiet for a very long time, long enough that my tears turn silent, but still keep streaming down my face. "You should go," he finally says, his voice strained, like he's at the edge of his endurance.
"I'm sorry," I say again, but if he hears me he doesn't respond. Zeke and Shauna are talking quietly in the living room but I ignore them and make a beeline for the door, just wanting to get away, to find some hole somewhere where no one can find me; someplace I can hide from the accusations and loathing I know I'll see in their eyes once they know the truth of what happened that night.
The only place I can think of is the Dauntless garden, so I jam the tiny key into panel of the elevator. I'm almost certain I have the only key, but even if I don't I'm much more likely to be alone here than anyplace else, even the bottom of the Chasm, maybe especially so since Tobias would naturally look for me there.
There's no moon tonight, but the space is lit by small, unobtrusive lights along the paths and between the bushes. I lay down on an artificial knob of grass, the gentle swell comfortable under my back and surrounded by delicate white flowers that are closed for the night. If I didn't have such a strong will to live - even now, even through all this pain - a handful of them would probably be all I need to kill myself.
I stare at the glass dome above me, and with only it and night sky between us I can see a whole galaxy of stars scattered across the heavens. It's beautiful and peaceful and they're totally indifferent to the world that they shine on. I learned in school that because their light has to travel so far some of the stars are already dead, blinked out of existence hundreds of years ago even though we can still see them. It seems oddly poetic; even here the dead still shine on the living.
I stay until my mind is empty, until the weight of exhaustion makes my brain feel sluggish and I can't trace the constellations above me or count stars anymore. I slump against the side of the elevator as it carries me down, and drag myself to our apartment.
It's late and Tobias is already in bed, shirtless, on his side with the blue quilt pooled at his waist. The light coming from the bathroom is weak, but it illuminates the tattoos that trace down his spine. His shirt is at the foot of the bed, waiting for me to pull it on. Watching him sleep... the longing I feel for him is palpable. I just want to be close to him, to mold myself against him and forget about everything.
"Did you tell him?" Tobias asks, his voice clearly awake, though he hasn't rolled over to face me.
I creep between the sheets, carefully fitting myself against him and slip an arm around his waist. "Yes." Even with the warmth of his skin heating my own he still feels far away. I wait for him to say something, but he doesn't. Maybe he just doesn't know what to say. Maybe he doesn't know how to bridge this chasm that has opened up between us. Maybe he hopes I do.
I don't say anything either because I don't. And it's terrifying because the silence makes me uncertain about us, our future.
Christina flips another half dozen black dresses over the door of the changing room. Where she keeps finding them is a mystery I've yet to solve. "How many more?" I whine at her.
"You tell me," she scoffs. "You're the one who can't find The Dress."
"And you're the one who insists that I need another dress in the first place."
"You can't get married in the dress I made you buy during initiation! You need something special!" Her voice is indignant and offended, though nothing like as horrified as it was when I told her I didn't think I really needed a 'special' wedding dress.
"Do not," I mutter to myself, stripping down to my underwear once again and pulling on another dress. "I hate it," I announce, stepping out of the dressing room and batting disdainfully at the puffy, full skirt.
Christina nods curtly, dismissing me for another costume change. This is the third time we've gone dress hunting and it looks to be as productive as the last two times. Really at this point I'm just hoping we find nothing and Christina gives up and gives in and leaves me alone. I also know the likelihood of that happening is on par with Peter joining Abnegation because he wants to embrace a life of selflessness.
"Don't worry, we'll find it," she says encouraging once I've tried on the last one. "Now, help me pick something out for my date with Michael tonight."
"How's that going?" I ask as I drift through the racks of clothes, following in her wake. Being so preoccupied with everything else in my life has kept me not only from 'being a girl', but also being a friend.
"Good. I mean I like him."
"I know you do," I say with a smirk. "Was he the reason you were late to Tori's?" Her cheeks tint red, and my jaw drops. "Are you actually blushing? I never thought I'd see the day you-"
She cuts me off with a backhanded slap to my arm. "Shut up," she mutters before regaining her usual composure. "I don't know if he likes me as much as I like him though. I mean, we've kissed a lot, made out a few times, but he hasn't tried to... you know... take it further. I'm kinda hoping that with the right dress and a little alcohol, I can."
"Maybe he's just waiting for the right time. Tobias did," I offer.
"Tobias is different. And besides you both have all that weird Abnegation baggage."
"My point, exactly. Maybe he wants it to mean more than what you were doing with Uriah," I snap.
"Oh calm down," she says as she stops and picks through a rack of clothes. "I'm not saying he can't be, but he's driving me nuts. I've been having so many rendezvous with my showerhead it's a miracle my fingers are perpetually pruney."
"What are you talking about?"
She turns and looks at me in slack jawed wonder, a complete counterpoint to my confusion. "You've seriously never used your showerhead to get off?"
"N-no," I stutter out, embarrassed that I can infuse so much shock in two letters. "How would you even do that?" I ask before I can stop myself.
She grabs me by the shoulders, forcing me to look at her. "Ohmygod, you have to try it, it's amazing!" She says enthusiastically. "Seriously, Tris, next time you're in the shower just-"
"I'll take your word for it," I cut her off, carefully extracting myself from her grip and hoping it's the end of the discussion of makeshift masturbatory aids.
Thankfully, it is, but mostly because her eyes land on The Perfect Dress and a wicked smile twists up her lips. It's surprisingly modest - completely covering her arms and chest - until you get to the hemline, which is so short I'd consider it a shirt. "I have this theory that if you show the right amount of skin boy's brains just kinda get stuck on 'naked girl' and they stop thinking. Guess we'll see if it works."
"If it does, I don't need to know about it," I quip.
She smirks at me over her shoulder as she twists around in front of the full length mirror. "Yeah, this is perfect," she mutters to herself, her eyes unfocused by the thoughts in her head.
Ten minutes later she's tugging me through the door of the apartment she shares with Cara and Elia. I've never asked how the arrangement works, if Cara knew about Uriah, or how she feels about Michael. I don't really know why I'm here, why Christina insisted that she needs my help to get ready for tonight. I'm not girly enough to help with her hair and makeup; for all intents and purposes I'm completely useless when it comes to this.
I sink to the floor, propping myself up against the side of her bed so I can see into the bathroom where she's preening.
"So are you going to tell me what going on between you and Four or do I have to beat it out of you?"
So that's why I'm here. I should be annoyed, I guess, but I'm not. Christina's not looking to gossip, she's asking because I'm her friend and she cares. Still, the Abnegation inside of me chimes selfish! But the more I think about the more I realize how eager I am because I can't talk to my usual confidant - Tobias - about it.
I start hesitantly. I tell her about the trial, which inevitably leads to Marlene and Uriah, but she waves me off the subject, telling me she's already talked to him about it. I'm surprised because she hasn't mentioned it. I almost demand to know what exactly he had to say since he hasn't talked to me at all - about anything -, but I wouldn't want Christina telling him about what we talk about, and even though it requires an effort I subdue my curiosity.
I tell her everything else, about everything Caleb said, how he was the one who conspired with Peter to arrange my escape from Erudite. I tell her how Tobias' little head shake and how Caleb's one redeeming act wasn't enough to save him from a firing squad. I tell her about the execution. But I do try to gloss over what happened in the Control Room. Right or wrong that belongs to Tobias and I. At least until she asks if the tension between us is because I suspect Tobias ordered Caleb's death.
"It's not... I don't," I stutter out, my tongue working faster than my brain. "He, I mean, we... um... we had sex in the Control Room... that night after Caleb died," I finish, a blush burning my cheeks.
"Kinky," she deadpans, carefully applying a pallette of powders to different parts of her face.
"It's not a joke, Christina! We've barely spoken since. I used him, and he's... I don't know. He thinks it was a mistake."
"Did he say that?" She asks, finally turning and giving me her full attention.
"What part of 'we've barely spoken since' aren't you grasping?" I snark.
"I'm just saying. You two suck when it comes to talking, so how do you know he thinks it's a mistake?" It's a rhetorical question, and for a few minutes she goes back to doing her makeup. "Would it bother you, if he had Caleb killed?" Her voice is quiet and contemplative, but there's a tension evident in the way her muscles move over her bones.
"I don't know. Maybe. I guess it would depend on the reason why." After Will and Marlene and Marcus I feel like a hypocrite for even saying that, but it's the truth.
Christina doesn't say anything, just sort of nods her head to acknowledge she heard my answer. "So, what do you think?" She asks once she's done, waving towards her face with a flourish. Despite the plethora of products arrayed on her bathroom counter the effects aren't noticeable for the most part. I suppose that's how you can tell she's so good at it though.
"Pretty," I say approvingly, but it doesn't feel like it's enough of a compliment considering all the work she did. "Michael doesn't stand a chance," I add and a brilliant smile lights up her face. "Am I free to go now?" I tease. She sticks her tongue out at me and disappears back into the bathroom to change.
"Go, get out of here. Make nice with your fiance," she shouts through the closed door.
"Good luck tonight," I call out before leaving.
It's a short ride down to my apartment. Tobias isn't home, but I don't expect him to be; there's a meeting tonight to discuss what to do for all the kids in the city - if we should reopen the schools or if it's still too dangerous.
I flop face down on the bed. I haven't been sleeping much lately and when I do it hasn't been restful. And I am tired, but with my face buried in our sheets the scent of Tobias assaults me. I kick out of my shoes and pants and try to ignore thoughts of everything we've done in this bed. None of it was as good as what we did on his desk in the Control Room.
I try to push those memories away, try to will my pulse into not racing my breaths not to be so ragged. But I can't will away the warm, wet ache between my thighs. I know from experience that until I tend to that there's no way I'm going to be able to sleep. I still flip the blankets over me and try though.
After twenty minutes of tossing and turning and gritting my teeth I give into it, tilting my hips up to wriggle out of my underwear before flipping over on my stomach again. Fleetingly I think of Christina's insistence that I experiment with the shower head, but the mechanics of it are baffling. I can only imagine using the handheld nozzle to direct the spray to where my fingers would normally be, but it just seems like too much work, and besides this has always worked fine for me.
I sigh into Tobias' pillow, using one arm to scrunch it up under my face, and reaching down with my other to touch myself. I don't try to go slow or savor it. It feels wrong, thinking about us in the Control Room when Tobias obviously thinks it was a mistake, but I can't help it. Everything about our coupling there was intense and left me craving more, clearly. Images of us flash behind the velvet dark of my closed eyes like a movie and that in combination with the tight, quick circles my fingers are tracing is enough to bring me to a quick orgasm.
When the after-effects fade I bang my forehead against the pillow in frustration. It's not enough. It blunted the edge of my need, but didn't satiate me. A quick release wasn't what I needed, and without volition my fingers start moving again, at first frustrated, but then I relax into it, exploring and caressing and seeking out those places that make me shudder and moan.
"Once wasn't enough?" Tobias' voice breaks into my thoughts, and I twist around, horrified to find him standing in the door watching me. I don't know how long he's been standing there, but it's been long enough apparently. His eyes are burning, a fathomless blue of a deep lake and brimming with emotion. The only one I can read as he walks towards the bed is want, raw and undisguised. He leans down and kisses me slowly. "Don't stop," he implores, nosing at my cheek. I'm still so shocked that all I can is give in as he presses a hand to my shoulder and urges back to the bed. He follows it with his lips, planting a wet kiss on the nape of my neck.
I've never done this in front of anyone before, can hardly believe it's something he wants to see. But if the way he's kissing me and slipping his hand over the smooth curve of my backside and the tented front of his pants are any indication he really wants to see it.
His gentle ministrations urge me to action again. I'm hardly comfortable with this, but it's not as awkward as I thought it would be, and if I'm honest it's easier doing this than talking about all the unsaid things that have piled up between us lately. My hips tilt up into his hand, encouraging him to touch me. I smother a moan in the pillow when he slips his fingers inside of me.
"What were you thinking about?" He mumbles against my skin, the humidity of his breath mixing with the light sheen of sweat breaking across my body and causing my flesh to erupt in goose bumps.
"You," I breath out.
"What about me?" His fingers are as gentle as his voice, moving inside of me in a slow caress.
"What do you... think about?" I huff out, quickly losing the ability to form complete thoughts, let alone sentences, but I can hardly tell him what I was thinking about. It's selfish, but his fingers feel too good, and if I tell him that I fantasize about about sleeping with him in the control room he might take them away and that is the last thing I want.
"You. I used to think about this. A lot."
"Really?"
"I always wanted to see you touching yourself, but I thought you'd say no if I asked to watch," he chuckles. "Guess I was wrong." He uses his lips and tongue to trace across the span of my shoulders.
"Tell me," I weakly command and I feel him smile against me. He does. He tells me how he used to think about this before we even got together, late at night when he was alone in his apartment in the Pit.
There's a part of me that hardly believes it, but the bigger part of me revels in the knowledge that he wanted me, he lusted for me, and that in combination with they way he's touching me is enough to break me. My hips buck up into his hand, drawing his fingers deeper as I try to muffle the high, strangled noise that works it's way up my throat in his pillow.
When I come back down again my skin is flushed and feverish, but the way Tobias is worrying my neck makes me shiver. I should be done, satisfied, but I want more. And so, apparently, does he. "I want to be inside of you," he says. There's the barest hint of a question there, but I want that too.
I peek up at him with one eye, meeting his nervous gaze. I don't know where this Tobias came from, don't know what changed or shifted in him, what was broken open by the strain between us, but I like this part of it at least. "Yeah," I say weakly, already spent, but needing more of him.
I shutter my eyes closed again, hearing rather than seeing him pull off his shirt and pants, feeling him shift around on the bed until he's behind me and the firm grip of his hands on my hips urging me up onto my knees. I'm swollen and sensitive and my body greets him eagerly when he pushes inside.
We both let out a low, guttural groan at the contact. It feels like every nerve is a livewire, twitching and jumping at the feel of my body giving way around him. He pulls out in a slow drag and then pushes back in, exquisite and luxurious. It leaves my toes curling towards the soles of my feet and my fingers clawing into the sheets. My body pitches forward and draws back in sync with his movements.
He collapses over me, framing my arms with his and weaving his fingers into the spaces between mine. "Tell me you love me," he says, nibbling at my neck, never ceasing the slow rocking of his body into mine. His voice is needy, almost demanding, like he's trying to convince himself that it's true.
"I love you," I reassure him, overwhelmed by watching where he's working between my legs and his request. "Always." I can feel his heart thumping against my back, and I tilt my face towards his, capturing his lips in a slow, lingering kiss.
"I love you too. So much," he vows. My body clutches at him, at his words. The night Caleb died I needed the reaffirmation that this provided, but Tobias seems to be the one who needs it now. He moves quicker, harder. It's almost possessive, but without the edge of aggression I would associate with it.
Either way it leaves my body racing towards release, despite the fact I should be satisfied already. But in this position everything is different. It's the complete opposite of me being on top, the parts of me I'm least comfortable with are hidden, but that's only part of it. The other part is that from this angle Tobias feels amazing. Every time he pushes forward I push back, and he's so deep inside of me it's almost painful, but like eating something sweet with something tart it only enhances things.
And though I thought I never would, I like how dominating the position is; I like the mild loss of control I feel because I feel safe with Tobias no matter what. The only thing I don't like is that I can't really reciprocate. In this position I can only take, but I get the feeling that Tobias must love that aspect of it.
"I've missed you," he pants, one of his arms curling loosely around my waist so his hand can stroke at me. I hardly need it, my body is already teetering on the edge of another release even without the extra stimulation he's offering.
"I missed you too," I say, stilling his hand with one of mine and guiding it so that he can grip my hipbone instead. He's already so close with his chest flush against my back, and face nestled into my neck, and his limbs caging me in, but there's something about the firm expanse of his forearm cinched across my waist that feels incendiary.
I don't need to tell him that I'm close. We've done this enough that he can read it in the way my breath comes in short, staccato bursts, if not the way that my body tightens around his. He moves quicker, erratic because I can feel that he's close too in the way that he twitches inside of me. My mind fights against my body because it doesn't want this to end, but the release my body is craving is inevitable, and it comes swift and intense and pulls him over the edge with me.
Without Tobias holding me up I would surely collapse. It's just as intense as the night in the Control Room, but my orgasm isn't the sum total of what I've been craving. It's this; this closeness to Tobias, this letting go. The freedom and intensity and trust of making love instead of having sex. I could never have this with someone else.
But, like in the Control Room, tears follow my release. By the time Tobias flops down beside me they're sliding down my cheeks, heightened by the cold chill and emptiness his body separating from mine leaves.
I stretch out beside him, hiding my face in my hands. Tobias covers us both with the blanket and pulls me close, letting me muffle my sobs against his chest. He clutches me protectively against him, murmuring little things into my hair I'm too insensible to take note of. By the time I cry myself out my throat is raw and my eyes are painful.
"I'm sorry I'm such a mess," I gasp, trying to get control of myself.
"Did I... do something wrong?" He asks me tentatively, face etched in worry.
"N-no, I'm just... I don't even know why I'm crying," I say honestly. "It's just everything. Caleb and Uriah and you," I babble, trying to work out my thoughts because it seems ridiculous that I was felt so good and then so awful, so quickly. "I don't know what's wrong with me."
"There's nothing wrong with you, Tris."
I let out a watery, mirthless laugh. "I feel like it though. I'm sorry... about the Control Room," I say meekly. I should have apologized for this a week and a half ago when it happened. "I shouldn't have done that to you, shouldn't have used you like that."
"It's not like I was complaining," he deadpans, trying to tease a smile out of me. After a minute his features collapse into worry again. "Do you think it was a mistake?"
"You do," I point out. "You've barely talked to me since then." By the time I get to the end of the sentence my throat is constricting for another round of tears.
Before I can hide between me hands again Tobias grabs my wrist, stopping me. "I don't. I mean, it wasn't ideal, but I don't think it's a mistake."
"You don't?"
"No, I don't. It changes things, but that doesn't mean is has to be bad."
I watch him closely looking for any hint of a lie, but I find none. And before I can stop myself the questions I've kept bottled up start spilling out. "Why did you go to Caleb's execution?"
Tobias holds my gaze for a moment before looking out the window. He looks almost... ashamed. "Sometimes I struggle with kindness," he says quietly. "It was vindictive of me to go, but I wanted him to know - I wanted him to see me and know - that between the two of us he was the monster. It's not a part of me I'm proud of, but I don't regret it."
I look down to where my fingers are fidgeting against his skin and work up the resolve for my next question, not really knowing if I want to know the answer, but needing to hear it too. "At the trial when the jurors were deciding his fate they asked you something and you shook your head." I stop short of asking if he instructed them to sentence Caleb to death, but the question is there, implicit.
Tobias is quiet for a long time. Long enough that I look back up at him imploringly. "They wanted to know if I thought it was enough, him trying to save you." That much I guessed already. "I told them it wasn't my job to decide," he says. His gaze is steady, never wavering from my own. "When they pushed I refused to give them an answer."
There's a part of me that wants to ask him the same question, but I decide it's better to leave some things unsaid.