Book Three: The Heart of Yang Xiao Long
Chapter 106: What It Means
"Tell me where you were / Tell me how you know me / You gave me everything / So at the end of loneliness / Those echoes keep ringing." - Lyrics to 'Auv Fiedersehen Gorgeous' by Dunkelgrau Central, selected by Gartenwald 129.5's Top 40 Hits
Today is the day.
It was the first day Yang had awoken without lingering pain in her leg, the first day it didn't protest when she put her weight on it or threw out a pair of wary high kicks. Aesborough and the battle with Augurhaz had wreaked havoc on her body, but now she felt whole again.
And that meant it was finally time to spar with Amat.
"I don't like that look you're giving me," he said. He had risen earlier, as always, and was in the middle of his morning prayers. Shirtless and spattered with flecks of paint, she had to bury her animal need to run her hands over him. Instead, she pressed a kiss onto the top of his head. It would have to do.
"You'll live. Whatcha workin' on?"
"Holy Terra," Amat answered. "A prayer for our safe passage. That our pilgrimage finds success." The work was not half done, but Yang knew the Throneworld when she saw it. The dark void of space surrounded a gold-and-black pit, a sketchy tangle of orbital lifts, enormous hives, and thousands of voidships. Even without the paint, Holy Terra seemed to draw her in, a yawning chasm that demanded one subsume themselves within it and surrender.
"It's… wow."
"Yeah," Amat said. "I'm almost done for the morning. You have something planned." It was not a question.
Yang grinned. "You and me, assassin-man. Three rounds on the mat."
"Already?" Amat asked. He continued to pain with one hand, while another caught her hand. His thumb ran over his hand, and Yang fought the desire to melt. "Are you sure?"
"I'm sure." He was worried about her. It was adorable. "I need to get back into it. As fast as possible." The weeks since Woadia had passed by in a crawl, and every lightyear closer to the Throneworld felt like a wasted opportunity to prepare herself. Physical training and recovery just feels so damn slow. "Plus, you've been awfully cocky about your chances."
"There it is." Amat finished, cleaning his brushes in a small mug of paint thinner. He reshaped them carefully, fingers working the bristles back into fine points. Yang loved watching him work. "I won't hold back."
"I'd be pissed if you did."
"Your leg is really better?" He asked again.
"Hey." She kissed him again, this time on the lips. "I wouldn't have brought it up if it wasn't."
"No wonder you look so… radiant."
This time, Yang couldn't help but flush. She gave him her toothiest grin. "Let's see if you keep up those compliments after today."
"You've been looking forward to this."
"More than you could imagine."
He looked up at her, a blank canvas. "Then l would hate to disappoint you." He snapped his brushes back into their place and threw on a training tank. "Let's do it."
"You've been looking forward to it too, haven't you?"
"I've been… curious."
Yang laughed, snapping on a sports bra and some workout clothes. "We should sell tickets. Vindicare Assassin vs. Living Saint. Sunday, Sunday, Sunday!"
He cocked his head at her.
"Never mind, assassin-man. Let's get to it."
As they stepped out of their barracks, Amat caught her hand. He grinned. "Just felt right," he said. She agreed, fingers interlocking with his. It was dumb and sappy and strange, considering they were practically skipping their way to gym so they could beat the shit out of each other.
But that's what makes it feel right.
Their chosen training hall was already ringing with activity. Literally. Long before they even rounded the corner, Laukr and Vulkmar's sparring session was perceptible as a subtle shaking of the metal floor, the loud crash of two superhumans grappling with each other.
When Yang and Amat arrived, they were warmly accosted. Her war party was already there for morning drills.
"Well look who showed up," Caolin said. "Ready to get back to it?"
"More than that, Caolin," Yang replied, her fist meeting her palm. "It's sparring day."
Vulkmar rumbled with laughter. "Excellent! I've been looking forward to this."
Yang was still not used to seeing the Space Wolves out of their armor. Just below their skin was their black carapace, a body-spanning subdermal sheet of dark bioplastic that gave them supernatural muscle definition and strange, jutting seams at their joints. Their bodies were covered in ports, cybernetics slots, and interface studs that helped further enmesh them with their power armor. They looked like Shen-se, more scarred and mutilated than enhanced in truth. But appearances could be deceiving.
Afflicted with gigantism and surgical implants, they looked even bigger when outside of their armor, their limbs long, loping, corded with enormous muscles. Their heads almost looked too small for their body, and standing next to the Woadians as they were, the differences between an astartes and a human was stark indeed.
Asgeg, however, didn't seem to care. "Yang came here on a mission," she said, tossing Vulkmar a water bottle. He caught it and downed the gallon in half a second. Asgeg was not wearing her augment today, choosing instead to work her biological arm with a series of heavy barbells.
"Vindicare Assassin vs. Living Saint," Caolin whistled. "We shoulda sold tickets."
"Told you!" Yang said. Amat only shrugged, rolling his shoulders and stretching his arms.
"Well this, I gotta see," Vadiik grunted. "Stick me," she told Alfhert, extending an open palm.
"Nae," the chapter serf replied. "Finish th' set first. Ya knae th' drill." He eyed Yang and Amat. "I'll fetch the medicae kit. Joost in case."
Yang stretched. "It won't be that bad."
"Ya dunnae knae that," Alfhert grunted. "Spent enuff of mae time patching these two up," he said, nodding and the Space Wolves.
"Such is the duty of our serfs," Vulkmar said.
"Hmh," Laukr said.
"Without me an' Armorer Bolverkk, these two would have ripped each other apar' ages ago."
"Where is that blasted tech-priest?" Laukr asked. "I noticed a microsecond delay in my metacarpal neuro-skeletal mesh."
"Already at work on it," Alfhert informed him.
Still sweating, the Space Wolves vacated the blue training mat that stretched over the training room floor. However, their sheer mass and frequent sparring sessions made it less of a 'mat' and more 'ribbons that suggested the former presence of paper'.
"What are the rules?" Amat asked. "I know you've already made them."
Yang laughed, cracking her knuckles. "You know me so well, babe." The term of endearment did nothing to ruffle him. He was ready. Good. "Three rounds. First one - no aura. Second - aura activated, but nothing past that. Third one - full aura. Referee calls the bouts."
"Best of three?" Alfhert asked. Yang looked at him. "I've been joodgin' astartes sparring since I was young'r than this lad," he said, jerking his thumb at Caolin.
"Hey!"
"I can keep up," Alfhert promised. Vulkmar and Laukr nodded.
"He lets Laukr have too many wins though," Vulkmar grumbled.
"It's because I win more," Laukr replied.
Amat appraised her. "Sounds good." Although his expression had not changed, the subtle inflections in his voice told Yang everything she needed to know. She almost shuddered at the coldness. He looked at her like a target.
Still, the fact that she could read his emotions so plainly brought her no small joy. His armor was not quite as impenetrable as he liked to pretend. She tied her sparring gloves tight.
A few practice jabs lashed out. Just as snappy as ever. "Ready."
"Ready."
Alfhert took his place near the center edge of the mat. He eyed the both of them as they settled into their stances.
"Begin!"
Amat's fist cracked across her jaw before she could blink, pain shooting across her face, ankles rocking back on the mat. A second blow landed before her feet returned to the floor, a searing left hook driven into her kidney.
Yang went down. There wasn't even time for instinct to kick in. A distant part of her remembered that Amat's enhancements and training were even more advanced archaeotech than the astartes'.
That didn't mean she'd let him have an instant win. The back of her head hit the mat, and although raw instinct told her to shield her face, discipline won out. Her fist slammed into Amat's chest, just below the diaphragm. Weaker than if she'd had weight to throw behind it, but precisely placed, a blow that would explode the air out his lungs and empty his stomach.
She heard the breath leave his body. But that was it.
His next punch landed on her jaw again. The other hand was free to block her feeble attempt at a response. Amat's right fist worked like a supersonic jackhammer, descending again and again and again. Six blows landed in half a second, each one driven into the center of her face.
"Match!" Alfhert called. Amat stopped immediately. A person re-emerged, and his eyes flickered with horror.
"Fuck," Yang hissed. "Holy shit." Pain filled her head with swirling sunbursts of red and purple, but it was fading quickly. She laughed. "That was insane!" Palpable relief flooded through Amat. "You're good, you're good," she reassured him, patting his thigh.
"Okay," he said. "Good. Good." He stepped off her and helped her up. They shared a quick hug, gloved fists ringing on each others' back. The rest of her war party looked on in stunned silence. Even Laukr's eyebrow raised a millimeter.
"Emperor," Caolin said. "I feel like I just watched a domestic incident."
"Fuck," Asgeg said, handing him a req bill. "You okay, Yang?"
"Save your sympathy for tall and handsome," She said, waving at Amat as she walked back to her side of the mat. "He'll need it soon."
"She's good," Vadiik said.
She was. Now her aura rippled through her, and the pain may as well have been millennia old. Yang had come face-to-face with the Vindicare Temple's hand-to-hand combat. I won't make the same mistakes this time. At least it wasn't for real. His confidence suddenly made a lot more sense.
Amat breathed deep, and the argent light of his soul flickered through him, noticeable only to each other. He settled back into his stance. Yang matched him.
"Ready."
"Ready."
"Begin!" Alfhert called.
This time, she saw him coming. That didn't mean she could stop it. This time, the punch was a powerful thrust, a spear-fist aimed directly at her sternum. It landed, but with her aura active, it was as if Amat had gently patted the hull of a baneblade.
Yang didn't give him space to line up another fight-ender. She closed the distance, forcing him into a clinch to neutralize his height advantage. He denied her, a flurry of jabs pushing them apart.
She denied his denial, a leaping punch into his ribs enough for him to take a step back. He punished her ambition. With a sickening crack, his knuckles met the bottom of her chin, a haymaker, a brutal uppercut.
Yang grinned. Eating the blow, she turned its momentum against him, spinning on her foot before her other heel descended like a guillotine onto the crown of his head. Were he not Vindicare, were he not an aura-wielder, were they not sparring, his head would be mush.
Amat stumbled back, but did not relent. They came to the same conclusions at the same moment. Yang couldn't be allowed to close, and Amat couldn't be allowed to stay at range. A frenetic battle for positioning ensured.
Blows rained down on her like Basilesk shells, hammer-strike after hammer-strike. They glanced off her aura, but Amat put so much power behind each one that she could feel herself flagging. Letting the punishment fuel her determination, she responded with a series of sweeping, confident hooks that ate up the mat between them. One connected, her fist smashing across his jaw. She felt his aura wicker and shudder under the impact.
It gave her just enough room. Her leg curled up and lashed out, a horse-kick to center-mass that he caught on his forearms. It didn't stop him from being pushed back. When one foot crossed over another, Yang knew now was the time.
Another kick to ensure his retreat, a spin to gather force, then a final lash of her heel struck his sternum. It connected, a bolter shell striking concrete. Amat wheezed, but didn't let her capitalize. He dove, his considerable weight hitting her like a freight train and sending them tumbling to the mat in a tangle of limbs.
His final gambit came down on her like the hammer of the Emperor. He reared back and smashed his forehead into her nose. Yang could only grin. She caught his neck and pulled him close, twisting under his weight until she could leverage an arm. Using her elbow like a fulcrum, she reversed the hold, smashing his back onto the mat. With a grunt of effort, she drove her other elbow into his sternum, driving into it with all her force. A heart-crusher.
Amat ripped his fist back and buried a punch into her gut. It met her aura, but she could not stop the surge of nausea and pain that surged up from her core. If the bout went on any longer, he would win a reversal.
Yang's fist rose and descended, a fully-loaded blow that smashed into Amat's nose. When he blinked, stunned, Yang wrapped a leg around his neck, bracing her shin on the mat and her thigh on the meat of his Adam's apple. The sheer force of her hold sapped the rest of Amat's strength, and he went limp.
"Match!" Alfhert called.
Yang released her leg and propped him up. "Oh shit," she whispered, panting. They were both sucking in long breaths, the effort of their match catching up to them. Even with their auras, it had been a vicious, taxing brawl. "You okay?"
"'Course," Amat grunted. "Good hold. Shit."
Yang flopped down next to him. They took a second to breathe together while the rest of her war party made their bets. "I was scared I'd crushed your windpipe there," she said.
"Nah," Amat said. "Aura is… really something."
"It really is," Yang said. Standing, she helped Amat back on his feet. They had caught their breath, but they still needed a second to recover from the bout. She realized she was grinning ear-to-ear. Amat was too. Even more miraculously, it lasted for ten full seconds.
"Good fuckin' fights," Yang said.
"Indeed," Amat said. "Good fuckin' fights."
Emperor, how she loved to hear him curse.
"Boo!" Asgeg called. "No more flirting! We're here for the violence!"
"We can call it here," Yang offered her boyfriend. "Keep the score even."
"Not while we can still pump money outta Asgeg," Caolin protested.
"I am no coward," Amat said. He settled back into his stance. His aura surged, the power of his soul flooding into his fists and feet. A miasma of blades seemed to form around him, a whirlwind of killing steel.
Vulkmar clapped Laukr's shoulder, a shield-biter's grin splitting his beard. "This'll be good," he said. Laukr nodded, the merest dip of his neck.
Yang's halo and wings burst into being once more, answering the call of her aura. Holy power flooded through her, the dam finally burst. "You won't feel weird about this?" She asked, eyes magma-red.,
"Never. Come on. Babe."
Yang's grin turned devilish. "You got it, assassin-man. Ready."
"Ready."
"Match!" Alfhert roared.
They met at the center of the mat, two forces of nature colliding in a supernova of muscle and soul and violence. Amat's blows fell faster than ever, but this time, Yang could keep up. She weaved between his punches, her feet dancing on the mat, perfectly maintaining her force and momentum, coiling it all into a roundhouse kick that caught Amat in the temple.
His aura kept him conscious. He tried to counter, throwing a vicious jab into her throat. The oxygen left her, but she barely felt it go. Grabbing his wrist, she pivoted, shifted her weight, then picked him up and slammed him into the mat hard enough to dent the metal floor.
Silver strands of light broke apart on his chest. His aura was shattered. Yang did not wait for Alfhert to call the match. Instead, she exhaled, leaned down, and laid atop his chest. They were both panting, the explosive force of their aura-enhanced bout expending their energy quickly. The first two rounds did not help.
"Match, I guess," Alfhert said.
"If she hit me again," Amat said between gasping breaths, "I'd be a red smear," He sat up after a minute had passed. "Whew."
"I did offer to keep it even."
Amat waved her aside. "Good sparring session."
"Emperor. No kidding," Vadiik offered. She'd stolen her smokes back while Alfhert was distracted. "That was fucking vicious. You sure you two like each other?"
Yang laughed. Amat chuckled too. She couldn't stop herself from beaming. It may have been the first time he'd ever laughed in front of other people. Her arm landed across his broad shoulders. "Pretty sure," she said.
They embraced.
"Well that answers that," Yang said, rocking to her feet.
"No wonder you were so excited," Amat said, joining her.
"It wasn't just for my own sick kicks," Yang said. "We gotta be ready for Holy Terra. It was good to get some practice in again." They nodded at that. Yang released her hair from its ponytail prison, and she shook it out with a groan of relief. "I think I've gotten a little rusty," she admitted. "Most of the heretics I fight don't last for more than a second or two. I've lost my technique."
Amat nodded. "And I need to work on my aura. It's… shocking the difference it can make."
"Well ain't this a happy little jerk-off circle," Vadiik grunted. Alfhert snatched the stick of lho out of her mouth before she could stop him. If looks could kill, Alfhert's soul would be so thoroughly obliterated that not even the Dark Gods could lay claim to what remained. "Anyways," Vadiik continued. "We watched the two lovebirds beat the she out of each other, so let's get back to it."
Yang and Amat nodded in agreement. It wasn't often that the whole war-party did their PT together, but today had been enough fun that she might insist on it, like their team dinners. There was something fitting about it.
The workout was also perfect for cooling down after sparring. Amat had given her a real run for her lien. Without her aura, she hadn't stood a chance. It almost felt unfair that she had been able to best him so easily when she wielded it.
No. There's no such thing as 'fairness'. She reminded herself. Not in the Imperium. Yang watched Amat do his routine. He still made an effort to interact with the others as little as possible, but there had been an inkling of progress today. After all, there was no malice in his solitude, no brooding - nothing more than discomfort. Inexperience.
Emperor help him, he's making the best of it. For me, Yang realized. He had met her fairly on the sparring mat, and he did his best to fit in with the rest of the warband despite his discomfort. Despite his nature. She grinned to herself.
You know Yang, she thought to herself. I think he likes you.
After their workout, they retreated back to their barracks. Yang hopped in the shower to rinse off the sweat and grime. There were still a few sore spots on her body, leftovers from the sparring, but she felt incredible regardless. Real exercise after so long. Real preparation for the trials ahead.
Yang hummed her happiness, the song bouncing around the countless empty stalls and filling the space with the sound of satisfaction. Sparring was so much fun. She grinned. Going forward, there probably wasn't a need to go quite as hard as they had today, but it was fantastic that they had finally found the opportunity.
"You good over there assassin-man?" She called to a distant shower stall. It was quiet for a moment.
"I liked hearing you sing," the answer came back.
Yang flushed red, and not from the scalding water. "Amat, you big softy," she said to herself. Despite herself, despite everything, she felt like she was back on track. Holy Terra awaited, but it seemed conquerable now.
Rinsing the shampoo out, she turned the water off and towled her hair dry. Making her way back to their bedroom to change, she noticed something in the pile of her belongings. The eldar healing robe. She parsed it between her fingers. Luxuriant. Impossibly soft. Slipping out of her towel, she put it on.
Divine.
She looked back to the showers, where Amat was finishing up. A realization struck her. Heat filled her, warm and glowing and all-encompassing. Her teeth sank into her lip.
Today… today's the day.
She awaited him on their bed, her robe parted just enough, a simple, uncomplicated knot at her waist. His feet padded across their barracks, and each step caused her heart to flutter. He saw her. Yang would treasure his reaction forever.
She looked up at him. Only if you're ready.
Amat's jaw clenched as he fought to keep an enormous smile from spreading across his face. In the end, he bit his lip, redness overcoming him.
"I did promise," he whispered. "The robe," he reminded her, running its soft belt between his fingers.
"A man of his word," Yang said, a hand lighting on his neck and pulling him down until her lips brushed against his ear. "I like that." The other hand claimed his towel. Her trophy. "I like that very much."
His breath hitched against her neck. His lips followed, running up her neck, over her cheek, then against her own. She kissed him back, her tongue meeting his, warm and sweet and soft and perfect. Amat accepted, leaning down until he was on top of her.
With a flick of his wrist, he undid the knot on her robe. It slid off. His mouth traveled down her neck, lips flickering on her skin, each brush of them against her driving her mad with want. They whispered down her chest, over her breast, then circled her nipple. She held him there, delighting, exulting, reveling. It had been so long. His tongue tasted her, and electricity danced up her spine.
"Yes," she told him. He continued his work. "Yes," she begged, fingers working his blond shock of hair. He tasted her like he tasted everything new to him - slowly. Carefully. Amat savored her, and Yang delighted in every moment.
He stopped, and she whined in protest. Until he started on the other.
"Amat," she hissed, grinning, eyes shut. "You're so mean."
He didn't reply. He withdrew, tongue flicking her nipple, a torturous goodbye. She almost pounced on him then and there. Instead, he fell on the bed beside her. Yang wrapped her arms around him, pulled him close. They kissed again. She worked her hand up his thigh until she found what she was looking for.
Yang stroked him, reveling in the noise of need he made against her lips. For all the horrors the Vindicare Temple had wrought upon him, they had not taken this simple humanity. She ran her thumb over him, and he gasped.
"Fuck," he hissed. His mouth was open, his eyes wide with lust. Emperor, how she loved to break his practiced placidity. "I didn't… fuck."
"Oh come on," she told him, running a thumb over his lip. "You're acting like you've never touched yourself before."
"Well…"
"Shut up!" Yang exclaimed, her free hand landing on his chest. "Really?"
"Really. I thought about it but-" He moaned again as her other hand continued its work. "I guess I didn't get around to it." Despite himself, he managed to look sheepish.
Yang's grin turned wolfish. "Suits me just fine, assassin-man." She rolled on top of him. "I'll take point." He looked good beneath her. There was something wild in him - this was new, this was uncharted territory, and eagerness overcame him. Strong fingers stroked her legs, his erection pressing against her needfully.
Oh I could get used to this.
Abandon almost took her. It had been so long, and she hadn't felt wanted - needed - in years. Instead, she leaned down, kissing him. It was her turn to work down his chest, over his nipples, over his abs, lips dancing, tongue flicking. The taste of him was exquisite. He groaned, fingers working her hair at its roots. Just the way she liked. With a wicked grin, she snaked down the bed, rocking her hips side to side. A spell as potent as any witchcraft.
"Yang, what-"
She took him in her mouth, and Amat was beyond words. His neck craned, his head met a pillow, and his moan was long and loud.
"I like that you're noisy," she told him once her mouth was free again. He grinned, in disbelief as much as ecstasy.
"Oh do you n-"
She didn't let him finish. His teasing words melted into another hiss of pleasure. It was all she could do to stop from laughing with delight, even while his cock was in her mouth. His reactions were so earnest, so free of pretense and restraint. Entirely too charming.
All of that practiced stoicism, blown to the fucking wind. Emperor, how she loved it.
Sitting up, she kept him in her grasp. "You good, assassin-man?"
"Why did you stop?" He asked.
"I'll take that as a 'yes'."
"Yes," Amat replied. "Emperor, yes. I don't know what I was waiting for. I'm good. I've never been better. Can you keep going, maybe?"
Yang laughed. "Hey, talking's important too. It's not twenty-four-seven suckin' and fuckin' like those filthy Woadian prints you read."
"I was doing research," Amat insisted. "I didn't wanna fuck it up. I didn't have anything else." He grinned, despite himself. His hips twinged involuntarily, straining against her hold.
"You're doing fine," Yang said, relenting with a stroke of her hand. She delighted in the sound he made and the rocking of his whole being into her grasp. "And if you weren't," she continued, "I'd let you know. And I'd want you to do the same for me, okay?"
"Okay," he said.
"Good," she said, releasing him and sitting up. "Grab my thighs."
"Like this?" He asked, hands landing on her legs.
"A little harder, assassin-man." His fingers clasped her. "Just a little harder," she hissed, watching him through half-lidded eyes. He obeyed, his iron grip working into her muscles, his thumbs digging into the inside of her thighs.
Yang let out a long moan. "Yes. Yes. Perfect. Fuck." She couldn't wait any longer. Her hand lifted him up, aimed him below her. She eased herself down.
And the galaxy stopped its spinning. All the stars seemed aligned, every nerve in her was alight. She was full of him, and it was divine. They moaned together. Yang wanted to make a snappy comment, throw him a wink, something, anything to tell him how much she loved this, how right it felt. How happy she was that they were together, how she never wanted him to leave her body ever again.
Amat understood regardless. He took in the full of her, eyes drinking greedily, hips rising eagerly. His grip did not relent. Yang realized she hadn't moved. Again, she wanted to say something, but found she couldn't. For all her previous encounters over the years, this was strangely… intimate.
An insane thing to think, she realized. It was true anyway.
"You okay?" Amat asked.
"Yes," Yang whispered. "This…"
"Yeah."
It was all that needed to be said. Slowly, she rose herself up. Down again, slowly. Amat bit his lip, overcome. He felt so good. Her core yearned for more. Now. Yang wanted to give in, ride him until he surrendered completely, but that would be too much, too soon. For now.
Twice more, and she saw him arc his head, muscles straining in his neck. His grip tightened, and the animal within her screamed to respond in kind. Yang's better sense prevailed. She slid off, pressed him against her.
"Do it," she hissed.
Amat came, painting her abs with white. He moaned, long and loud, hips working, cock straining against her hand. It took him a second to recover and return to the realm of the living. The warmth slid down her core, melting into her blonde fur and over her hand. It felt so right.
Yang beamed.
"Holy shit," Amat said.
"You okay?"
"Yes. I… fuck," he hissed. "I don't think it was supposed to be that quick," he said, covering his face to hide a red-faced grin.
Yang laughed and released him. "Ah, I wouldn't worry about that." She wiped herself off with the discarded towel and fell into the crook of his outstretched arm.
"Are you sure?"
"Absolutely," she said, lighting a hand on his chest. Even now, she wanted to run a finger over his torso, pet him, suck his nipples until he made those noises again. I'm the worst, she thought, delighted. "You're not gonna fuck like a porn star on your first go-around."
"I… I guess so," Amat said, still catching his breath. "Uh…" he said, still red-faced. "You know… next time…"
"Next time, Amat?" She purred.
Amat chuckled, before trying to regain his sincerity. "Well… I'm sterile. All the modifications the temple made." He looked at her. "Can't have archeotech like that going… astray."
"I see."
"So if next time, you wanted to…" He shrugged, turning even redder.
"Keep you inside?" She whispered into his ear. He nodded, and she laughed, slapping his chest happily. "You shoulda told me, man!"
"Yeah, sorry about that," he said.
"Oh don't you worry," Yang replied. "I'm not gonna forget. Now as for this 'next time'..."
"Uh-oh."
Yang grin's was as impish as it was wide. "You need some time to recharge. In the meantime, I'm going to teach you how to finger a lady…"
Yang awoke warm and happy. Sleepy. The low-light reds that bathed their barracks meant it was still the night-cycle. Amat held her close, the whole of him pressed against her back. He was asleep. Not in his Vindicare-trance, not in a tortured psyker-sleep.
He rested fully, dreamily, pleasantly. The soft kiss of his breath ran down her neck and shoulders, sending goosebumps of delight rippling down her skin. She nestled herself within him. This time, there was nothing between them, no sheets, no sleep-shirts.
She hummed her happiness to no one. This was an intimacy that was unfamiliar yet instantly perfect. Yang knew she would never have enough of it. The good ache in her core, arms holding her tight.
But more than anything else, there was the knowledge that this would be the rest of their nights together. It had happened at their own pace. Slower than she'd have liked, but that's what made it right. A year ago she might have resented that this joy had not come earlier, but it had happened when Amat wanted it. She was wanted, needed, had.
Yang slowed her breath, tried to settle herself. Get some more rest. Holy Terra loomed.
But sleep would not come.
A low buzz of delight thrummed within her, quiet yet insistent. She was too excited to rest, too exhausted to do anything about it. That was fine. The minutes crawled by, and she was happy to pass them with her eyes shut, reveling.
Then the need to hit the bathroom struck her. Damn. She dare not extricate herself from Amat, not when she risked disturbing the best sleep of his life. As more minutes of quiet comfort ticked by, she realized she did not have a choice.
Fuck. Summoning up her patience, she prised herself free from Amat's embrace. She regretted every moment. She didn't want to leave.
The Emperor showed her mercy, and Amat slept on, ignorant. Yang grinned. He looked so good in the low reds, a sheet haphazardly hanging from his hip. Be right back.
She crept to the bathroom. Yang wanted to get back to bed more than anything else in the Imperium. When she'd finished, the sink hissed sterile water into the ceramic basin. Voiders' water. It was cool and refreshing regardless. She splashed some onto her face, felt the droplets run down her neck and down her chest.
Looking up, she saw herself in the mirror. She watched herself blink.
Yang realized she hadn't looked at herself in months. Maybe since Gartenwald? She didn't even recognize the image in front of her. The woman - the beati - staring back at her was totally transformed. Muscle rippled out from every angle, her shoulders broad and powerful. Abs and biceps bulged out from taught, pale skin. Weiss' glyphs stood in stark relief on her shoulder and tricep, the Imperial brand drinking in the low light.
Her fingers ran over the mass of moon-white scar-tissue that covered her lower torso. It was huge, rippled, ugly, perfect. Yang hadn't noticed the smaller surgical scars that dotted her as well. She rested a hand on herself, felt the infinitesimal purring of augmentic organs.
Purple and deeper-set than ever before, her eyes seemed to radiate holy power. The angles of her face were sharper, leaner, more domineering. Fit for a statue. A Cathedral, even.
But it was all still Yang.
Me.
She sighed, leaning on the cold ceramic of the sink. She smiled. Even her teeth looked different. Her tongue flitted to the wet gaps in her gums where her molars used to be. I look… good. The lean muscle and girlish beauty she'd known on Remnant was gone. In its place was something different.
"Hey," Amat said. He stood in the doorway to the bathrooms, no more than a silhouette in the dark, wearing nothing but shadow.
"Hey," Yang said. "Sorry for waking you up."
"It's okay," he said. "You look amazing."
"I know."
"Humble too," Amat offered. Then a smile. Just for her.
Yang giggled. "I know. You're quite a looker yourself."
"So I'm told," Amat said. He reached out for her, hand proffered. "Come back to bed." It came out as a purr, something Yang never thought she'd hear from him. Ever.
"Is that an invitation?" She asked sauntering over to him. "You're an animal."
"There'll be time enough for that tomorrow," Amat assured her, another quick grin flashing bright. "I…" He flushed. "I missed you when I woke up."
She held him, nuzzled into his neck. Kissed his chest and shoulder. "You're so cute, it hurts."
His arms wrapped around her once again. Yang couldn't bite down the sigh of satisfaction.
"Carry me," she asked, looking up at him. "Please."
Amat did as he was bid.
They were asleep in minutes.
A/N: Another year, another chapter! I went back and forth over the years whether or not to do "the scene", but once I actually wrote it out, it struck me as a necessary moment of characterization. I hope you enjoyed! In case you're worried that this is just what this fic is going to be now, rest assured - I think I only got one more scene like that in me.
All that being said, I have some FANTASTIC news to share - this was the year I actually locked in, buckled down, and got shit done. AWoBE is about 12-15 chapters away from completion, with about 25 chapters already in the tank and undergoing editing and beta-reading.
Not to toot my own horn too much, but I think I fucking cooked. Next year, weekly chapters will resume, likely sooner rather than later!
Once again, thank you all so much for your love and support over the years. I never could have gotten this far without you.
See you soon!
~RedrumSprinkles