She'd missed being barefoot, Kya realized. Her years spent in the wintery north were not exactly conducive to this particular indulgence.
She wiggled her toes. It was a strangely intimate experience.
The floors of Lin's house were made of rich stone. At first glance the earth-hued tiles appeared to be mined from the same source, but each step was met with a subtly different texture.
Slate, sandstone, limestone, maybe granite—Kya couldn't name them all but she knew with a certainty that Lin could, down to the finest details of their composition, the exact mix of quartz, of clay. It was such a, a Lin thing—to hide away what little extravagances, what little pleasures, she allowed herself. Still, she was happy Lin allowed herself these little indulgences when the rest of the house was so Spartan.
She was less happy when 9 o'clock came and went with no Lin. At midnight she considered ringing the station but settled for a soak in the tub—and leaving wet footprints all over Lin's fancy floor.
She woke up at some ungodly hour of the morning—cursing the noise from the street vendors outside the window and wondering if this was all still such a good idea.
She ate cold noodles from the box she'd left sitting out last night.
By noon the next day she'd made friends with Lin's neighbors and the delivery boy blush, had riffled through Lin's clothes and not put things back exactly the way she had found them.
Bumi would call this a siege.
When the door finally opened, the lanterns outside were lighting the streets and she had settled onto Lin's couch for what could only be called passive-aggressive reading.
She had some witty retort on the edge of her tongue—a "Hi, honey. How was your day?"—to head off Lin's inevitable complaints—but didn't have need for it as Lin moved across the room.
Glib words couldn't articulate the sudden shift in the room's gravity, her gravity as Lin was pulling her up, drawing her forward until she was on her feet face to face with the other woman. Frantic hands at her waist, groping past her ass, clutching at the backs of her thighs—Kya let herself be caught up in the upward momentum, until her arms fell naturally around Lin's neck, shifted her weight until her legs were wound around Lin's hips.
Hazarding one hand to lose its grip on Lin's neck, Kya framed the side of Lin's face, catching the warm flush that was ebbing across her cheek beneath her palm. Jade eyes met hers then closed as Kya bent her head to trail her mouth along Lin's jaw, lips inevitably tracing the arc of scars.
She could hear Lin's breath catch, feel Lin's hands momentarily falter in distraction. She locked her ankles, squeezing her thighs against Lin to compensate. She both damned and thanked the thin, warn fabric of the pants she had stolen from Lin's closet—her thighs strained to keep from sliding down the metal of Lin's uniform but her determined squirming sent Lin's hands to pull her closer, what was left of Lin's presence of mind to move them to the bedroom.
Gravity curiously righted itself again when she was dropped on the bed, Lin standing between her knees.
By the time Kya had tugged the white shirt over her own head, Lin had Kya's pants skimming past her calves and tangling at her feet.
Lin's fingers were on her own belt when Kya suddenly dipped her head, her tongue darting out to taste a spot just below Lin's badge.
Lin's lips parted. Her fingers flexed unconsciously.
Kya had seen most of the world but the sight of Lin Bei Fong on the cusp of losing control was still one of her favorites.
And Lin Bei Fong pushing her back, practically crawling over her wasn't bad either.
Two fingers are buried deep inside her, driven just a fraction deeper by each jerk of Lin's hips. Lin's full weight, made just a fraction unfamiliar with the added weight of her uniform, is driving each movement. Pure power, Kya thought. Lin's eyes were closed in the perfect picture of concentration, one arm stretched out to grip the edge of the bed. Power above, around, inside her.
Kya's fingernails scratched futilely down Lin's shoulders.
Lin's armor was cool against her stomach, her thighs, a perfect counterpoint to the heat of Lin's mouth at her throat, her tongue over the pulse.
"Please-"
Lin's movements lost any sense of rhythm when Kya's fingers joined hers.
Kya felt herself coil—felt the beads of sweat sliding down Lin's shoulder blades, felt the very molecules in Lin's breath—felt the silky warmth pooling between Lin's legs—and release.
Kya watched a growl form in Lin's throat and escape past her lips, watched the carefully formed metal fall carelessly to the sheets around them. She moved her leg between Lin's, arched up, and said please again.
"There's take-out in the ice-box," Kya offered, later, absently tracing the line of Lin's spine with her fingers.
Lin's face only burrowed deeper into her pillow.
Kya's fingers slowed in their path down Lin's back.
"In the last 36 hours, have you eaten?" The movement of steel-gray hair against the pillow could have been a nod. "Slept?"
Her response was muffled but Kya could make it out just the same: "At the station."
Kya's fingers stopped, withdrew.
"Because I was here?"
Lin was silence for so long that Kya gave up on getting an answer, dropped a kiss to Lin's spine anyway.
"Because you might not have been."