KastleNetwork

“Do I get to know?”

He’s never defensive with her. Rest of the world, yes, good luck getting anything in the vicinity of a straight answer. But she brings out something different, she’s pretty sure, something raw, something-

“Not that interesting.”

“You went silent for a week.”

“Didn’t think you cared.”

What the actual fuck.

Self-destructive is one thing, a shared language they’ll never bother to discuss outright. But oblivious…

“You have no idea what you do to me,” she says in as even a tone as she can manage, resisting the urge to bury her hands in her pockets or maybe around his neck. “Even now, you have no fucking idea.”

“That bad?”

She sighs. He’s so lucky she likes him. He… knows that, she thinks, but-

“Ignoring the fact that if you die I presumably get to spend the next three years in a catfight with some VA drone… I do actually care about you, Frank, despite your dramatic efforts to make me regret that and despite the fact that you never listen when I say-”

“You shouldn't."

“You don't get to make that decision for me."

That’s enough to get him across the space, enough to get his arms wrapped around her and yeah he may not have accepted how she feels but she doesn't ever need to question whether it’s reciprocated. She buries her face in the curve of his neck and there’s something steady about him on these rare occasions he acts like a person, something she could build a life in if he’d stand still long enough to let her, and-

“You shouldn't," he repeats, softer.

She wants to pick a fight, but instead she turns her head and takes a kiss, expects him to pull back and is pleasantly surprised when he doesn't. He’s not just here for that, she knows, but she’s out of better ideas for getting him to stick around and things do cross her mind and-

“I fucked up again. Is that what you want to hear?”

“I want you to do better. I want you to believe me.”

“Not that easy.”

“I know.”

End of the day, she’s just masochistic enough not to care as much as she should. If he’s capable of doing right by her, that’s somewhere in the unknown future not anytime soon, and she’s fine with waiting too long, better than any other options she has, she gets to be functionally single and put someone else’s name on her taxes next to hers – and she should probably tell him she did that, the last thing they need is to get audited – and she doesn't know how she feels and she doesn't-

She feels too close to crying, and she takes a few deep breaths and she cannot do this. Not like this. Not when she has to be the strong one, again, because this is her life, this is her fucking life and she can’t-

His hands drift a little higher on her back, holding her just a little bit closer. “Didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Well aware.”

Talking won't fix them. She’s not sure anything can.

But he’s hers in the way that matters, whether this resolves or not, and that’s enough to keep her curled up in an embrace she needs way more than she’ll admit. He’s hers, and she’s sure he’s feeling the same fragility, and this isn’t who they are and this is everything they are and-

“I should stay,” he murmurs, opposite of so many past moments.

“You should.”

She doesn't trust this like she should.

He’s trying not to get stuck in his head right now, when he’s got much better things to think about. Things like how much he likes kissing her now that he’s decided to let himself actually do it. She’s softer than she has any right to be – he admires her inner strength, but her body does not reflect that – and sweet as anything and-

“We doing this?”

There’s a spark in her eyes like if she has her way he’s going to end up under her and. Yeah. They’re doing this. They are doing this properly this time – technically the second time they’ve attempted to be intimate, but the first time kinda involved being shot at a couple minutes beforehand and him pinning her to a wall more to steady their heart rates than with any ulterior motives and then things kinda escalated and-

If she wanted a normal boyfriend, he reminds himself, she’d have one. She’s choosing him. That has to count for more than he’s factoring in.

Right now she's taking as any kisses as she can, only pausing when she needs to breathe, blushing in the moonlight and god she’s so perfect and he doesn't deserve her and he’s hers anyways and-

Half a step back and his hip makes contact with her dresser, unexpected not uncomfortable, there’s enough control to avoid this getting out of hand but in a different mood this bedroom is going to be a hazard. So many sharp lines, so many things that could-

“You're in your head,” she murmurs, pausing and he can see the worry in her eyes. “Anything I need to-”

“Think we should end up on the bed before one of us gets bruises somewhere we don't want.”

She laughs, low and unamused, and he is well aware how many times she’s seen the aftereffects of the things that happen to him and he’s getting too damn old for the life he has and that won't stop him and-

“Yeah. Good idea.”

It’s easier to shed his own layers than let her do it. He’s not in work clothes, at least there’s that, and she’s similarly casual, and-

Oh, she’s a sight. Lace lingerie because of course – it does look like it’s sufficiently practical, but it’s still dark blue lace on really pale skin and it’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen and he can’t-

“What?” Playful, curious, sweetest thing.

“You're just… everything.”

“You're sweet, Frank.”

Nobody else has ever said that about him. She says it often, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, and maybe it’s a strange thing to say with what they’re about to do but this is who she is, this is who they are, and-

“I try.”

“I like it.”

She clears the distance and starts kissing him again, and she is very distracting as a person and for once he doesn't mind. It’s appropriate right now, maneuvering each other on her floral duvet and maybe there’s a conversation they should have about protection and pasts and this just isn’t the right moment for that, and-

“You need anything?”

“I'm as turned on as I get, but… thank you for asking.”

He’s not sure he believes her, but he decides to go with it for now. If things aren’t right then he can handle it, but-

She drops, and oh, she is everything.

Far as he’s concerned, this is the first time that counts for anything. She’s tight and a little tense, and his arms wrap around her, pulling her close and down. Of course she wants control, he won’t fault her for that, but-

“You good?”

“Just… adjusting. Give me that.”

He’d give her anything she wants. He’s aware he’s decently endowed, and he’s unsure what her past has been like, and god now he’s thinking about things he doesn't need to think about, and-

He rolls his hips against hers and she answers, and it doesn't matter. She wants this. She wants him. This is-

“Can you get your hand between us? Give me something better to-”

He does. She is everything.

He falls apart too soon, and he should warn her and he doesn't, and he bites her shoulder instead of making an awkward noise and he’s not sure that’s better, and he’d be shocked if she ever touches him again after this, and-

“You need anything?”

“I got close, if that’s what you're-”

“Close good enough for you?”

“Better than I'm used to with a partner.”

Well, now he has a lot of questions he doesn't want to have. He won't push this time – in the future, maybe, but the energy is wrong for it right now, and it’s right enough to keep his eyes on her as she moves off him. Perfect, he thinks, absolutely perfect, and-

“You wanna stay?” she says after a few heartbeats.

“If you’ll have me.”

“Please stay.”