#c writes

The last three words are harsh but it’s true. I have always prided myself on my ability to maintain control of any and all situation. I like to think of myself as someone that is strong and assertive, and to put it in layman’s terms: I don’t take shit from anyone. And I certainly don’t get fucked.

But I am. And it’s great, but it’s also embarrassing. It's especially embarrassing when, afterwards, we lay in bed, cuddle, and he spends the night. We have breakfast together in the morning; normally a cup of coffee and toast, and then he leaves. But not before he kisses me and says he'll talk to me later.

It's still casual, of course. But how casual is this? I've done this before in college where there is some guy I call or he calls me when we're feeling stressed and need to let off some steam. But they never stayed the night; we never had breakfast the next morning; he certainly never kissed me goodbye. 

And I never smiled at him, or laughed, or waited for him to text me, looking forward to the confirmation that he'd be over soon.

So, now the question becomes: when does it stop being casual? Does it stop being casual when it's been more than once? Or when they spend the night? Or when they kiss you outside of sex? I’m wondering, I’m pondering, and I don't know because I've never done it like this before.

Because it's not just the aforementioned factors, but I wonder if the type of sex plays a factor in deciding the answer to the question. In my mind, casual sex is rough and meaningless. You both don’t kiss, and at times don’t even look at each other the entire time. Then, you roll over and get dressed with barely a word uttered. There's little to no tension in the air because what we came for happened.

With him though, it's not like that. I've tried before—to do it like how I know, but he redirected me with ease and after about three times I gave up. The sex is soft, so to speak. His touch is gentle but firm and we kiss almost the whole time. Lately, I've started smiling at him for some reason, and he smiles at me. Never once in my life did I think it was possible to smile during sex, or that I ever would.

I'm starting to get the feeling that it's not casual anymore, and frankly it worries me. Not even worry—it scares me. 

Intimacy has never been my strong suit. It makes me nauseous and my body alternates between hot and cold when confronted with it. It makes me feel naked—vulnerable and scared that I’m being perceived in a way that I cannot control. Sometimes I feel like a baby deer hiding in the grass to get away from predators; sometimes I feel like a wolf baring my teeth with my ears pinned back, ready to launch at a threat. 

I've always thought it was safer to skirt around people. To let them know me enough to stick around, but not enough so they don't have a reason to leave. I feel like if people know me, truly know me, then they'll leave. I feel a deep sense of shame of who and what I am and what I've done. The feeling cemented itself into my soul since before I was born, I think, and it has persisted my entire life. It has wreaked havoc on my relationship with myself, my family, and those around me. I can't shake it.

The blurred lines around this “casual” relationship makes my skin crawl and the warning signs in my nervous system are blaring at me to leave. To uproot my life and move someplace else where he's not there. There's something about him that makes my cheeks burn and my stomach twist into knots.

I've known him for so long and so intimately, but it's never been a problem. I've grown to care for him more than I expected to, but it's never impeded my life. I think I made a mistake letting him into my bed because now it's a problem; now it's impeding my life. He is doing something to me that no one has ever done before. He knows me.

Casual sex stops being casual when you start to notice the way your body reacts when they're around, in and out of the bedroom. It stops being casual when I sit here, at my desk, thinking about his smile and blue eyes, and the way his hands feel on my body. It stops being casual when you start to like them and begin to wonder which parts of yourself need to change in order for them to like you too.

I think it’s easier said than done to keep sex in a confined box of just sex; of just a physical connection for a short period of time, but what I think people forget—myself included—is that regardless of how disconnected you can be from the person emotionally, sex at the end of the time is still very intimate. You learn about each other, even if it’s just the physicality of it all. Sex is inherently vulnerable. You know what it takes to get the other there, what makes them shudder and twitch and let out a sigh or a moan. There’s no easy escape when you’re naked, arms wrapped around each other for support. 

As I’ve gotten older I’ve started to understand this more. You would think that as you age it would be the opposite; sex is more than it should be when you’re young, and nothing when you’re old. But, I think when you’re young it’s easy to be so wrapped up in yourself and what’s going on in your life that you’re not really in the moment during it. You’re too busy thinking about how you’re performing, what you’re going to tell your friends when it’s over, or what task needs to be done when you leave. When you’re older, those same worries are still there for sure, but it’s different because sex now becomes a genuine escape from the woes of life. Sex when you’re young is almost a right—an accomplishment; sex when you’re old is like a privilege that you have to work for after a long day, so it’s easy to take the moment for, maybe, more than what it is or what it should be.

Sex with him is something I look forward to almost each night after a long day at work, or after fight with my mother, or after consuming myself in thoughts about my insecurities. Personally, I feel like it’s a new beginning for me. I’ve abstained, willingly, for so long because of some things I’ve done when I was younger that I have desperately tried to atone for since and I think this whole situation is finally that atonement coming to fruition.

“Leon…” Gabriella moaned, arching her back off the bed. She fisted his hair tighter in an attempt to keep him as close as possible and bucked her hips into his mouth, whimpering when Leon moaned, the sound vibrating straight through her core.

Gabriella glanced at the clock and mentally groaned. It had been ten minutes of this and she had already finished once and she could feel a second orgasm building in the pit of her stomach. Despite the jerking of her hips and the sounds of pleasure falling from her lips, Leon had not let up from the slow, tortuous pace of his tongue on her clit or loosened the grip on her thighs. 

Suddenly, instead of circling her clit, Leon began to flick his tongue up and down quickly. She watched him bury his face deeper between her thighs and most likely sensing her heightened arousal, he moaned again. 

Gabriella whined and her eyes rolled into her head. “Don’t…oh, don’t stop.” She repeated herself once, and then twice, the pitch of her voice rising until she whined again and her body stiffened and she twitched away from him.

She couldn’t cry out or say anything substantial. Her orgasm released from within her quietly, the only indication of her arrival being her lifting herself off the bed and covering her mouth as her chest heaved up and down in quick successions.

Leon pulled away and Gabriella’s body fell limp onto the bed where she squeezed her thighs shut and turned on her side. She could hear him panting and felt his gaze burning through her, watching her as she reeled from the pleasure that was still sending shockwaves through her body.

“Oh, my God.” She sniffed, half of her face buried into the mattress.

“Good?” He asked quietly. Leon was still on his knees at the foot of her bed.

She glanced at him through half lidded eyes. She nodded, letting out a quiet “yes” before burying her face into the mattress again. Gabriella had learned early on that even if her body language indicated that she had finished and she felt good, she had to tell him. Otherwise, Leon would get antsy, a nervous look in his eyes as he scanned her face for affirmation.

Her body felt heavy and something buzzed beneath her skin so hard that she barely felt the kisses Leon left on her skin as he crawled onto the bed and settled beside her.

“Do you want to get on top?”

Her eyes shot open, registering the question that she was sure was asked incorrectly. She turned slowly to look at him, her lips pulled down into a frown.

His eyes were playful. There was a light in them that had not been there before, but had been making an appearance for the last few weeks, and it danced as he peered down at her. He kissed her shoulder gently and placed his chin on it.

“What?” Gabriella asked. Her eyes narrowed as she stared at him. Surely there was no way he was asking her this.

“Do you want to get on top?”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

She squinted at him and turned around, making a point to settle deep in the bed. “No.”

“Why not?”

“I’m tired.”

“Do you not want to have sex?” Leon asked as his fingers grazed the top of her thigh.

“I do, but I’m tired. I’m not doing that.”

“You like it, though.”

Gabriella did. It was, without a doubt, her favorite position. But it was her favorite position if it was the first thing that they did. It was not her favorite position if she had already came; the overstimulation was too much and it left her feeling nauseous and pathetic as Leon held her afterwards.

Leon nipped her earlobe gently and she felt him smile against her skin. He didn’t need to say anything to make her comply with his requests which she found to be annoying.

“There’s something wrong with you, you know.” She huffed as she turned around and draped a leg over his side. She faced him properly and looked at him again, her frown still prominent on her face.

Leon knew she wasn’t actually upset, and being confident in this knowledge he kissed her, letting his lips linger on her long enough to make Gabriella feel needy. She whined quietly and pushed her face upwards to catch his lips again. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she deepened the kiss, ignoring the taste of herself on his lips. She slid her tongue in his mouth and she arched into him when he moaned, relishing in how deep it sounded and how it felt as she swallowed it.

Gabriella slid herself on top of him with ease and broke the kiss to press her mouth on his neck, collarbone, and chest while she palmed Leon through his underwear. She smirked to herself as she felt his cock harden to its full size, and hearing Leon begin to pant she glanced up at him. She could have pulled his underwear down, lined him up to her entrance and slid down and took him in until he bottomed out, their hips connecting. But she didn’t; she waited a few moments before doing so because she liked to see him like this: his body relaxed onto the bed, lips parted and eyebrows furrowed as his chest rose and fell with pants and quiet moans.

Gabriella noticed that Leon didn’t take care of himself too well and he also didn’t have anyone to do it for him. He didn’t sleep or eat that often and she wondered if the only time he ate and slept was at her house. She had been to his house a few times since meeting him and each time was just as sad as the last. This past time, he had gotten new furniture. It was arranged like he had copied a display in Ikea and his fridge had beer, an array of condiments, and a ribeye that was marinating in a ziplock bag. But other than that, his home was barren. The only indication that he cared about his living space was that the furniture looked expensive. 

Leon was clearly embarrassed by it because he stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, aimlessly scratching the back of his head and avoiding eye contact with her. Gabriella acted like it didn’t bother her. In reality it did because it was sad. The house was lonely; it lacked the feeling of it being a home and that it was someone’s home. It seemed like an empty space which made sense, because Leon was an empty person. He seemed to live day by day because he needed to not because he wanted to. He had few hobbies, and fewer friends and Gabriella had an inkling that besides Sherry, she was the only person he saw on a regular basis.

By this point, Gabriella had taken his underwear off and tossed it somewhere behind her. His cock sprang free, flopping against his stomach before straightening. Leon lifted himself on his elbows and Gabriella watched him as he watched her spit in her hand, stroke him a few times, and then lowered herself onto him.

Leon cursed when Gabriella had lowered herself enough that the tip of cock just barely grazed her cervix. She whimpered, biting her lip as she flattened legs onto the mattress and took him in fully; it felt as though their bodies were merging as one as she began to rock herself onto him, her hips moving back and forth slowly as she adjusted to him.

“You okay?” Leon asked. He had his hands on her just tight enough that his grip didn’t falter, but loose enough that Gabriella had room to move at her own pace.

She nodded and tilted her head back slightly, letting out a breath. “Need a minute.”

“You always need a minute.” His tone was playful, jabbing at the fact that despite the many times they’ve been together she still needed to adjust to him.

She feigned a scowl, but she couldn’t hold it for long because she smiled and looked at him, shrugging. “So what?”

Leon gave her his own shrug and squeezed her hips once and then again, beckoning her to move faster. “Nice to see, is all.” His reply was breathless as Gabriella obliged to his silent request and began to move faster, just enough that she felt the bed rock beneath her.

Gabriella was forever grateful of the curve of Leon’s penis. It curved upwards slightly, not enough to look ridiculous, but just enough that no matter the position it hit exactly where she needed it to. Gabriella leaned back and put a hand on his leg to balance herself and intertwined her fingers with Leon’s and began to bounce up and down. 

It didn’t take long. In fact, much to Gabriella’s dismay and Leon’s enjoyment, it never took long. She placed her hands on his chest and squeezed her eyes shut, biting her lip as she suppressed the moans bubbling in her throat as she raised her hips up and down in continuous swift motions.

“There you go.” Leon’s hand was cupping her cheek and she didn’t need to open her eyes to see him looking up at her, his eyes darting around her face with his eyebrows furrowed and his jaw clenched as he let out quiet grunts. 

He was always looking for confirmation that she was enjoying it. Leon checked in constantly, asking how it felt and she had figured it out immediately that he was looking for reassurance because, surprisingly enough, Leon Kennedy was deeply insecure. Gabriella had always admired the quiet dominance he exuded; no matter where they were, people acknowledged him with some even taking the time to come up to him to introduce themselves. And no matter where Gabriella was, people talked about him; she heard them whisper about the work he’d done and how each assignment was executed with precision and rarely without failure, and they’d even come up to her to ask about him.

Leon never seemed to mind the attention and was always humble when congratulated about his service. But Gabriella could always see the tension in his shoulders and the twitch of the muscle of his jaw because Leon hated small talk and he especially hated being reminded of what he’d been through. Which is why, despite her academic background in studying bio-organic weapons, Raccoon City, and everything that came with it, she never once asked him about it. She didn’t need to test the waters to see that, despite decades passed, everything he’d been through still haunted him. The look in his eyes, distant and hollow, reminded her of her father’s when he came back from deployments in Afghanistan and Iraq and, like Leon, it never went away.

Gabriella sat up and cursed, forgoing the effort of moving up and down and instead rocked her hips back and forth, chasing her high that was brewing in her stomach. She moaned, the sound high pitched and bordered on a scream.

“Oh, fuck, fuck fuck.” She whispered. 

The sound of the bedframe hitting the wall with a consistent thump, thump, thump began to be drowned out as the roaring in her ears increased until all she could hear was ringing. The sound was deafening and the only reason she knew she was moaning was because she felt the vibration of the sound in her throat and chest. Her movements became sloppy and tired and Gabriella felt her own body grow limp and heavy; she felt weak as she collapsed on to Leon’s chest. She kissed him aimlessly and then moved her lips to his jaw and neck before hiding her face as he wrapped his arms around her back and thrusted into her.

The ringing in her ears subsided only to be filled again with the quiet pants and groans of Leon. He had one hand in her hair and the other on the middle of her back to keep her still and low on his body. She inclined her head upwards and marveled at the look on his face; Leon’s eyes were closed and his lips were slightly parted. It was evident that he had initially hidden his face in her shoulder, but he’d given up and let himself move in and out of her without much thought.

Leon was always too focused on Gabriella and she had noticed that when he couldn’t see her face he would relax a little, just enough that she could tell he was satisfied with the work he’d put in and was letting himself enjoy the fruits of his labor.

Leon had admitted his insecurity to Gabriella and she truly believed that would be the last confession she would hear from him because she was sure he would never admit to being turned on by encouragement. He would admit to liking that she reassured him, but Leon Kennedy would never say he liked being praised even if that was exactly what he liked.

This was Gabriella’s strong suit. She was used to being the vocal one, giving instructions and praise whether it be during her own intimate moments or on the phone with clients. She hadn’t had much experience with Leon because he was quick to take control, but she had learned how to take the reins back in moments like this with him beneath her where he couldn’t handle her as he normally could.

She dragged her hand from its position beside his head and cupped Leon’s face, swiping her thumb across his cheek. Her hips twitched and she moaned, “Don’t stop.”

Leon’s breath hitched in his throat and his rhythm faltered just slightly, but he recovered quickly and his thrusts became harder and more focused. He cursed under his breath and pressed his head into the mattress as she kissed his jaw and nipped at the skin gently.

Despite his reaction, Leon would not admit that he liked it when Gabriella’s hand slid from his cheek to the base of his neck and wrapped her hand around his throat; it wasn’t a firm grasp, but it was enough that her hand wouldn’t move easily. She pressed her forehead against his and kissed him. Although the sound of their skin connecting and their arousal mixing together was aggressive and loud in the room, it did not translate to their kiss which was gentle and slow. They took their time to taste and explore each other, their tongues meeting with a mutual understanding that they would share the space together.

Gabriella moaned into the kiss and turned her head to deepen it. There was a lot Gabriella would never confess, and one of them was that she really liked to kiss Leon. She liked the way his stubble scratched her face and how soft his lips were and that no matter what they were doing, he always held her face and took his time. Leon was never in a rush to finish and she was appreciative of it; he didn’t treat this or her as something he needed to check off his to-do list.

She broke away first, needing to catch her breath, but didn’t move away from him. She stayed there with their foreheads touching and the tips of their noses pressed against each other. Gabriella tightened the grip of her hand on his throat slightly and smiled when Leon groaned in response.

“God, you feel so fucking good, Leon.” 

And it was true. While Gabriella knew how to perform for men sexually and did what she knew they liked, she said it because, although he liked to hear it, it genuinely felt good. Heavenly even. The feeling of his cock just barely pulling out all the way before it slammed back into her, the tip hitting her cervix and his shaft rubbing on her g-spot; the pressure of Leon’s hands on her back and in her head, pressing her onto his chest so hard that she could feel every divet in his skin and his heartbeat brought her to the edge. And then he would moan, saying her name like one would when speaking to their savior.

Leon growled and tightened his grip on her hair. His pace became faster as his hips jerked beneath him, an indication of his orgasm drawing closer.

“Keep going.” She kissed him once and let her lips linger on his, savoring the endless quiet moans that were spilling from them.

Leon was losing control of himself with every thrust, every groan from himself, and mewling from Gabriella that when he finally came, shooting inside of her with an unrelenting vengeance, Leon whimpered into her shoulder. Gabriella didn’t mind, in fact she could hardly hear him because she was shuddering so hard on top of him that it felt like she was slipping from her own body and going someplace that was fuzzy and warm.

She let him turn their bodies on their side and Leon held Gabriella close, kissing her shoulder and rubbing his thumb on her wrist. She was sleepy, like she was every time, so she only acknowledged him by shuffling back closer to him until her body fit along the curve of his.

“I don’t know why they make us work with the BSAA guys,” Gabriella murmured as she pouted and toed the dirt with her shoe. “I don’t like them.”

“Well, they surely don’t like you.” Leon responded. He stood beside her, leaning against the car with his arms crossed.

Gabriella rolled her eyes and mirrored his posture. “I don’t know why they’re still holding on to that. What else was I supposed to do?”

“Listen to orders? Not hold them at gun point?” He gave Gabriella a look, his eyebrows raised as though he couldn’t believe she was being so dismissive.

“Oh, my God! I didn’t do that! I just pointed the gun at one guy and it wasn’t even for that long. Plus, that was last year. We’re adults; get over it.”

Leon shrugged. 

“You should be grateful, you know.” She tutted. “I did it for you. And almost got fired for it.”

“Forever grateful for you, Gabriella, for threatening the lives of international agents while they did their job.”

“Oh,” she scoffed, “you’re incredible, Leon. Next time you’re sitting in the dark with no way out and nobody coming to get you, good luck. I’ll just go the fuck home like I was supposed to.” She turned away from him and shook her head. “Fucking bootlicker.”

“You know I was very appreciative of your…persistence in my retrieval. Even if it was almost at the expense of others.”

She looked at him over her shoulder and scowled. “Whatever, I don’t care. Like I said: if you find yourself in that situation again, you’re SOL.”

Leon chuckled and she heard him move behind her, and suddenly he was standing beside her. “If I remember correctly, you said you would never take an assignment without me.” 

“Yeah, well.” Gabriella straightened and inched away from him. Her cheeks burned and she felt her heart skip a beat for some reason. “Then, I’ll find a way out for myself and you can just follow me.”

“Mm…okay.”

She huffed and inched away from him and watched as the rest of the BSAA agents rolled in to start the mission.

They were in a rural part of Lithuania—a small town called Zervynos. It looked like the classic European countryside with picturesque rolling green hills and quaint homes with shabby, wooden roofs and dirt roads. An underground facility had been uncovered by farmers that were looking for cattle that had gone missing. It was nestled deep into the forest, the entrance carved into the side of a stone cliff. Inside, the local police found a scene of chaos. There was blood everywhere, rooms and hallways barricaded in haste, and the carcasses of wildlife including cattle and deer. In some of the rooms that the police had been able to access were files on the testing of BOWs and to their horror there were a few still remaining in the facility that, unfortunately, had taken out a couple members of the National Police that had been sent in to investigate. It was the BSAA’s jurisdiction and the only reason the DSO was involved was because there were classified American documents on some of the computers, and a few of the deceased personnel inside were American nationals, a few on the DSO’s watchlist.

Chris Redfield emerged from one of the armored trucks and Gabriella groaned.

She and Chris had fought in Raccoon City during Leon’s evacuation. She had pulled a gun on a member of his team after he had refused to send a party to get Leon and Grace from beneath the city after the facility self-destructed. When Chris had heard of it, he had pulled Gabriella before she left and it didn’t take long before they were screaming in each other’s faces. They were both loyal to their work and to their partners; Chris was defending his teammate, and Gabriella was defending her partner. It had been reported back to the director of the DSO and she was placed on suspension that was ultimately lifted after two weeks for two reasons: she was their best field agent aside from Leon, and Chris had vouched for her much to her surprise.

She had never forgotten the incident and apparently neither had the BSAA agents. She had been angry about their refusal to enter the structure; their reasoning had made since because they were unsure about the stability of it, but at the time Gabriella had not cared because Leon had been MIA for hours and neither she nor Sherry knew where he was or what had happened to him aside from him entering the Umbrella facility after arriving to Raccoon City.

It wasn’t until after, when Leon had been medically cleared and was at home, that she sat with how she felt and how strongly she had reacted and it raised some red flags within her about how she felt about Leon. Colleagues were bound to grow to care about each other and their wellbeing especially in the type of work they did, but not like that. Not to the point where she was ready to get physical with anyone who tried to stop her from getting to him. But she had brushed it off like she did many other things that made her uncomfortable.

“I’m not talking to him,” she announced, turning to look at Leon.

Leon shrugged. “Figured.”

Leon, despite being Leon Kennedy, hated confrontation, so when Gabriella started a fight he always acted as a buffer and mediator.

She walked silently beside him until they reached Chris who was adjusting his bulletproof vest.

“Leon!” Chris greeted him with a smile and hugged him, clapping his hand on Leon’s back.

“How’ve you been?” Leon gave Chris his own smile, albeit it was more pulled back than Chris’.

“Good. Tired of this shit, but good.” Chris turned his attention to Gabriella and smiled, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Gabriella.”

“Christopher.” She replied curtly.

Chris chucked and put his headset on. “Alex is here if you feel like apologizing.”

Leon snorted and turned around to hide his laughter and Gabriella gasped.

“Fuck you! I’m not apologizing to anyone for shit.” She scoffed and turned around, but with nowhere to go she turned back and looked between Chris and Leon who had shared a quiet laugh at her expense. “Let’s go and do this shit; I want to go home.”

“Got someone to go home to?” Chris nudged her shoulder with a laugh.

Gabriella scowled and brushed her shoulder as though he left a physical mark. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“I would, actually. I’ve always wanted to take you out for dinner. Even if you’ve called me a fat loser.”

Gabriella’s face shifted to a look of disgust. “As if.” 

No longer sensing Leon’s presence beside her, Gabriella looked over her shoulder to see him trailing her and Chris by a few paces. He was looking around as he normally would, his head turning to look to each side of and behind him in a strict pattern of surveillance. The area had already been cleared by the local police and the first round of BSAA agents that had arrived the night prior, but Leon wasn’t prone to trusting the judgement of others and, at times, his own judgement.

“How’s he been?” Chris’ tone was genuine now and he whispered it as he stood in front of her.

Gabriella got Leon’s attention and waved him over, giving him an exasperated look. When Leon rolled his eyes and quickened his pace she turned around and responded to Chris.

“He’s fine. Same as before, just physically better, I guess. You know how he is.”

“Mm. That’s good then, I guess.”

“Have any concerns?” She raised an eyebrow at him, her lips turning down slightly.

“Not really…” Chris shrugged. “We haven’t talked much since last October. Claire says they haven’t talked much, either. Seems like the only people he talks to consistently are you and Sherry.”

Gabriella shrugged, and then sighed. “At least he’s talking to someone.” She offered him a small, sympathetic smile which Chris returned.

Their soft moment vanished when Leon caught up to them and Gabriella turned to him, hissing, “If I can’t stray, neither can you. You can’t leave me here alone with these freaks.”

“Heard that,” Chris grumbled.

She waved him away and drifted closer to Leon.

“The straying rule is exclusive to you, Gabby.” Leon’s lips were just barely upturned in a smile. “You’re the one who gets lost.”

She shrugged. “I always find my way back.”

“Uh, yeah, after getting into some shit you’re not supposed to be in.”

“Whatever.” 

It was her turn to fight a smile when Leon placed his hand on the small of her back as they approached the group of agents that were huddled by the front door of the facility.

Some of the agents she recognized from Raccoon City, but there were a few she didn’t. The ones that she knew gave her looks mixed with annoyance and anger. She gave them no reaction and remained in her position beside Leon who angled his own body towards her.

“How are you still working?” Alex, the agent that she had pulled the gun on, asked her. He basically yelled it in disbelief.

Gabriella, taken aback, blinked at him. And then she smiled and calmly replied. “Anything is possible when you don’t have a gag reflex, Lieutenant.”

There was an eruption of noises amongst the group, a mixture of laughs, gasps, and yelling at Chris about Gabriella’s inclusion in the assignment.

“You could’ve fucking killed me!” Alex shouted and he took a step towards her that Gabriella happily matched.

Leon grabbed her by the belt loop of her pants and yanked her back. “Don’t,” he whispered in warning.

“That’s enough!” Chris shouted and all sound, even the sounds of the forest around them, stopped. “Agent Muñez faced the rightful disciplinary action, and she is apologetic.” 

When Gabriella opened her mouth to protest, Chris shot her a look and Leon tightened his grip on her so much that she collided with his chest softly. She promptly shut her mouth and frowned.

“We’ve all reviewed our briefs…” Chris started, giving Alex and Gabriella a pointed glare, “so we know what we’re here for. We get in, complete the objectives, and get out.” 

Chris’ voice was completely different than what it had been before and Gabriella found herself straightening at his tone, loud and commandeering of the group and situation. Even Leon stood differently beside her.

When the briefing was over, Gabriella turned around to face Leon and he was looking over her at the group of BSAA agents. She knew that look: he was assessing the situation and recognizing potential threats.

“Hey.” She nudged him with her elbow and he looked down at her. “Was it funny? What I said?”

He let out a humorless laugh. “It’s not a good look, I can tell you that.”

“But it was funny.” She nodded at him slowly in expectation.

“Yeah, sure.” He pursed his lips and shook his head. “Not everything is a fight, Gabriella.” The tone of his voice, low and defeated, made her pause. He almost never said her full name. 

“What would you have done, then?” She waited a few moments and when he didn’t respond she nodded. “Yeah, I thought so.”

From the position of their bodies no one could see that Leon had his hand on her stomach, his fingers moving around her shirt aimlessly. He looked at her, deep in thought; the blue of his eyes were nearly transparent in the sun but she could see what appeared to be sadness simmering just beneath the surface. Why he was sad, she wasn’t sure, but she let him have his moment without pestering him for answers to unspoken questions. She reached for his hand and grabbed his fingers tightly, loosening a breath as she tilted her head further to look up at him.

No one must have been looking because Leon bent down and gave her a swift kiss, and then pressed his lips to her forehead, his lips lingering for a moment too long, and she had a feeling that he was trying to tell her something without actually saying it.

“Come on, let’s go,” was all he said when he pulled away, jerking his head behind her to where the agents were lining up on either side of the door.

The facility had been a research lab, focusing primarily on experimenting on lickers to make them more conscious and efficient in killing which, if successful, makes sense why the local farmers had been reporting that they had been losing cattle in higher quantities than usual. Some of the cows had been found deep in the woods, their skulls crushed and bodies almost entirely consumed; some of the cows had never been recovered and were assumed to be inside the facility.

Gabriella could deal with a lot, but she could not deal with lickers. They made her skin crawl and her stomach turn in the worst way. And it wasn’t because she couldn’t handle them, but they looked scary enough that she always hesitated before engaging them. The entire time the team moved through the facility, clearing rooms and gathering data from the operational computers, Gabriella kept her head on a swivel.

“You okay?” Carlos appeared beside Gabriella, speaking in Spanish.

Carlos had introduced himself shortly before they had gone in, first telling her that her quip to Alex was “badass” and then introducing himself formally. They both didn’t need to explain their background to know they were both Latin and had since communicated in Spanish.

“Yeah. I’m not a fan of lickers.”

Carlos laughed. “Who is?” When silence settled between them, Carlos spoke again. “How long have you and Kennedy been together?”

At the mention of his name, Leon turned around, darted his eyes between the two and quickly turned back around.

“Since I started working there four years ago. We have a mutual friend who recommended me for the job and she said we’d work well together.”

“Do you?”

Gabriella laughed and smiled to herself. “Not at first. We would fight all the time, but it got better after…maybe two years? We just have different approaches to how we do things, you know?”

“Yeah, I can tell by the way you almost bit the Lieutenant’s head off.”

Gabriella rolled her eyes and sighed. Every mention of him made her blood boil.

“He’s a jackass then, and he’s a jackass now.”

“It’s…admirable that you did that, though. Shows how strong your connection is.”

Gabriella almost laughed at that. Their partnership, friendship—whatever it was had been strong prior to January. They worked well together, coexisted well together, but now it was so much more now that they were spending almost every night together.

“He would’ve done the same for me.” She shrugged the compliment away. “He’s a good guy.”

“You think he’d threaten someone like you did, though? I mean…that’s some next level shit.”

Gabriella smiled and shrugged. “Depends if I pissed him off that day, I think.”

Carlos laughed and she followed him into an office that had been cleared by Jill, one of the BSAA agents. 

“I get the feeling you do that a lot.” 

His voice followed her as she headed towards the desk. She sat at the desk and stuck the USB drive into the side of the monitor. 

“Oh, for sure. One time, I said something to him and he didn’t talk to me for a whole day. And not only did we have to share a room, but there was only one bed, so it was super awkward.”

“What did you say?”

She shrugged and threw up a hand. “Who knows. I say a lot of shit.” She pressed a few keys on the keyboard and when the desktop finally loaded, she clicked on all the folders and began to download them onto the drive. “We only talked because he woke up in the middle of the night to me going through his jacket for his wallet and car keys so I could get something to eat; he was pissed.”

Carlos let out a loud laugh. “You’re incredible.”

She grinned, but didn’t say anything further. 

“Gabby.” Leon appeared in the doorway and he glanced between Gabriella, who was sitting in the desk chair, and Carlos, who was perched on the desk beside her. “Just…checking on the file download.” He spoke cautiously, lingering in the doorway.

“Seventy-eight percent complete.” Gabriella beamed at him and she could have sworn his shoulders dropped just a little.

“Good.” He walked in slowly and positioned himself beside Gabriella.

She did not miss how close he got to her and the way his hand almost overlapped hers when he leaned down to look at the computer. She didn’t move; she let him lean over her shoulder.

“What does it say?”

She leaned back in her seat and shrugged. “Same thing that we know. They started experimenting with the DNA, mixing wolf DNA with it, which is insane. But a few trials here and there and now they have this thing.” She clicked on an image of a juvenile licker. She tilted her head and puckered her lips as she studied the image. “Kinda looks like a Xenomorph.” She looked up at Leon. “You know…from the movie Alien with Sigourney Wea—”

“I’ve seen it, Gabby,” Leon replied dryly. Despite his tone, he gave her a small smile.

“Right.”

The mutated licker had the same body shape as the normal lickers but they had a long tail that was thin with spines along the top of it. Their faces were akin to a dog’s with a blunt nose and canines that protruded from beneath its lips.

“Their vision is still shitty like the others, so they rely on their hearing, but they can see movement. They hunt in packs, too, which is annoying.”

“Your commentary on something that can kill us without a second thought is incredible, Gabriella.” Carlos piped up from his seat on the desk. He was grinning down at her.

She chuckled and shrugged. “It is what it is. Might as well have a laugh about it.” She yanked the USB drive out of its slot and shoved it in a pocket on her vest. “We’re good here,” she announced, standing up.

She bumped into Leon, who hadn’t had time to step away from behind her, and he quickly placed his hands on her waist to steady her. His hands lingered for a minute too long and the moment grew awkward, especially with the knowledge that Carlos was in the room. Maybe he hadn’t seen it, having gotten up when she did. Gabriella gave Leon a tight smile and stepped away from him and stalked towards the door where Carlos was waiting, pointedly staring out into the hallway while leaning on the doorframe, his hand resting on his rifle.

Leon wasn’t normally touchy in public. He reserved his graze on her arm when he passed by or the placement of his hand, ever so casual, in her hair as he twirled her curls around his fingers for when they were alone. It warmed her heart to think that maybe, just maybe, the reason why he was risking touching her in public was because he was jealous.

Gabriella had a habit of wandering when on an assignment. She was not fond of how slow everything took from checking rooms and the blueprint of the area or waiting for backup if needed. She preferred to go on her own and find what she needed and leave; she didn’t want to wait for anyone or follow protocol that extended her stay by more than she thought was necessary.

So, she had hung at the back of the convoy of agents and when there was a hallway that was seemingly blocked by furniture that, according to the map she had, was a shortcut to the main laboratory they were heading towards, she slipped through it unseen and unheard.

It was only the doorway that was haphazardly blocked by desks and cabinets; the rest of the hallway was clear from debris save from dust, broken glass, and trails of blood here and there. It was as though whoever had blocked the doorway had been trying to keep something out. But it occurred to Gabriella that if they were trying to keep the lickers out, why wasn’t the furniture disturbed? Why haven’t they bursted through when they were more than capable to do so?

She didn’t think about it too much as she scoured the offices, finding lab reports and personal testimonies from the scientists and technicians. Some of the personal reports were optimistic about the work they were “accomplishing”; the purpose of their work, like many other deranged scientists these days, was to create a killing machine. The original lickers were uncontrollable and unpredictable; they only killed what was a nuisance to them—anything that was in their way or made too much noise. Other than that they were “docile.”

The “new and improved” lickers had more autonomy to be trained and learn how to hunt; but, unbeknownst to the scientists, their newfound DNA also meant that they were extremely intelligent on their own accord.

And that was the downfall of the entire facility. Having formed their own pack through brief interactions with one another and communication between them in their enclosures, the six lickers they had “raised” started to recognize patterns like when they would be fed, when training started and ended, and, most importantly, when the shift change was for the guards.

Gabriella watched security footage from three months prior of the lickers communicating through clicks and snarls when the guard on duty stepped away and in the ten seconds he was gone and before the next guard took their post, the larger licker, the leader of the pack Gabriella could only assume, started to throw itself at the glass window until it shattered and in the other five enclosures, holding one licker each, they did the same until they had all escaped. And the scene that came before her eyes on the small computer in a windowless room at the end of the hall showed the facility erupt in chaos of red lights, smoke, and gunfire. Nobody stood a chance; everyone was killed and the few that escaped were killed as well and their bodies dragged back inside to be consumed. That explained why they had yet to find a whole human body.

“Jesus Christ,” she muttered to herself.

She downloaded the video to her USB drive and went on her way deeper into the facility. Their main objective was to get as much information as she could about the facility, who was funding it, who worked here, and what they were doing here; as well as collect information about the work they were doing about the BOWs and intel about the BOWs themselves, on top of terminating all BOWs they encountered. So she headed towards the main laboratory where she was sure she would meet up with everyone else. 

The question was when they would encounter the lickers. As of right now, there had been no sign of them except for pools of fresh blood in random rooms and saliva that stuck to their shoes. If they were like wolves as much as the scientists had insisted they were, they had to be deep inside the facility in an area that was easy to protect. And surely, given that there had been no sightings of them yet, they were all together which was both a blessing and a curse; it was easy to take them out all at once, but it was also easy to be ambushed. There were eight skilled agents and six lickers; the odds should’ve been in favor of the agents, but nothing was certain when dealing with BOWs.

The further she went towards the laboratory, the darker it got. There were no windows, the majority of the facility being underground, so it was already dark but the few lights that were kept on from the backup generator were broken here with some of the fluorescent bulbs hanging from the ceiling. Knowing how sensitive their hearing was, Gabriella meandered down the hall with her flashlight shining on the floor as she attempted to avoid anything that could make noise.

She descended another set of stairs and was met with a set of double metal doors. Through the small window on each door, she could see that inside was the laboratory they were looking for. Once she went through the door, she would walk across a metal landing and then down two flights of metal stairs where she would finally make it to the main floor of the laboratory. 

The room was massive. On each side of the room were what used to be tables with computers on top and screens on the walls. The metal tables had massive dents in it and the computers and screens had been shattered beyond repair and recognition. In between each wall were six glass enclosures, three on one side and three on another. They were barely enclosures at this point; the glass walls were nonexistent and all evidence of it being a wall were in pieces on the floor, the majority of it red from blood, both new and old. On the far side of the room was a door that led into a small room with what Gabriella assumed to be a double sided window. Her eyes narrowed onto it, knowing that it held what she was here to retrieve.

As Gabriella made her way into the room and down the stairs, her nose scrunched up in disgust at the smell. It was indescribable, but the closest thing she could compare it to was the smell of rotten meat.

Still careful to avoid the glass on the floor and tables that had been overturned in the walkway, she approached the door with her gun in one hand and her knife in the other. Pressing her ear to the door and confirming there were no sounds that she could discern, she turned the handle and opened the door slowly. She cringed as it opened; the sound of metal squeaking, that would have not been a big deal in normal circumstances, sounded like an alarm begging to be investigated. She flashed her light around the room and stepped inside, leaving the door propped open for an easy escape.

It was dark, but with a few passes of the light Gabriella knew it was exactly where she needed to be. Thankfully, the backup generators kept the refrigerator running so none of the samples had expired. Gabriella plucked the various vials of blood samples from the acrylic racks and placed them gently in a medical transport box that she found tucked away in a cabinet.

She wasn’t too engrossed in her task to miss the creak of metal and the crunch of glass behind her. Gabriella closed the lid of the box and turned around slowly and held her breath as she watched one licker crawl on the floor at least ten feet away from her, and another licker silently descend from a vent in the ceiling, carrying the body of a small calf in its mouth. It made Gabriella’s skin crawl to know that they were using the vents to travel, but it made sense since barely any of the barricades around the facility had been disturbed.

The smaller of the two lickers crawled towards the stairs that Gabriella had come down from as though scouting the room for something; the larger licker dragged the calf by its leg towards the room that Gabriella was in. She stayed still, her hand still wrapped around the handle of the box, and slowed her breathing to avoid moving as much as possible; she wasn’t sure if even the smallest movement, such as the rise and fall of her chest, could be sensed. Instead of entering the room, the licker made a right turn. Gabriella watched it head towards a dark corner and with the minimal light in the room, she could make out the rotten bodies of calves and various bones.

She did not use the opportunity to sigh a breath of relief. Instead, she watched the licker begin to eat the calf and watched as the other licker, satisfied that there was nothing of interest in the room, crawled towards where the other licker now sat. 

Shit, she thought to herself. She honestly couldn’t say how she was going to get out as the stairs were metal and had made some creaking noises as she had descended them earlier. She made the realization that she was not going to be able to get out if she did not kill them, and she also made the realization that there was a chance that she was not going to get out at all. 

She let go of the box, and instead picked up a two scalpels that were laying loose on the table, and threw one towards the opposite side of the room. Both lickers reacted to the noise, making wet snarling noises and one of them, the smaller one, got up and made its way towards the sound.

Gabriella mentally sighed in relief and mirrored the licker’s movements as it crawled towards where the scalpel had landed. As it sniffed the piece of metal and the floor around it, she threw another scalpel at her feet, making sure that it landed just quietly enough that only it could hear it. The licker made a clicking noise and Gabriella moved out of the way as it crawled right in front of her, its head at her feet. She looked at the larger licker, engrossed in its meal, and fisted the handle of the knife with two hands and plunged it into the licker’s head.

It made what seemed to be a sound of surprise and then it flattened onto the ground with a thump. The other licker paused, looked in Gabriella’s direction, and got up slowly. She knew that they could only see movement, but she had a sinking feeling like it could see her because it grew to its full height, in a defensive posture, and crawled towards her with its tail raised in the air like a scorpion.

Gabriella didn’t move; he stayed utterly still, only her eyes moving as it watched the licker advance towards her. It jumped onto an examining table in front of her and snarled as it sniffed the air. Its short snout twitched and she could hear the huffs of breath as it exhaled.

Slowly, Gabriella lifted one hand and lowered it to the floor and picked the scalpel up with two fingers. Still with her eyes on the licker, she threw it to her left, where it collided with a metal cabinet. At the same time that the licker roared and leapt towards the sound, Gabriella yanked the knife out of its position and stood up. She wasn’t sure how to go about this; this licker was clearly more intelligent than the smaller one which gave Gabriella the idea that it was younger. The licker in front of her had to be older, more mature, and, unless there was one larger than it, was the leader of their so-called pack.

While it sniffed the area where the scalpel had fallen, Gabriella crept towards it with the hilt of the knife grasped firmly in her hand. So focused on watching the licker, Gabriella did not see the piece of glass until she stepped on it. The shard twisted on the ground beneath her boot, making a nauseating scrapping noise against the concrete floor. She paused and held her breath and it felt like minutes, the scene before her unfolding in slow motion as the licker snapped its head towards her, made a sound akin to a scream, and, in one swift, sharp movement raised its tail and pointed it right at her. 

Lickers moved too fast; she couldn’t hesitate and wait to see what it would do. Gabriella lunged at it and tackled it to the ground. She placed her forearm on its neck, limiting the movement of its head and jammed her knife into its neck. The licker screamed, the sound becoming muffled as it started to choke on its own blood. She pulled the knife out and plunged the knife into its head;, hearing the crunch of bone as the blade penetrated its skull. The body fell limp and Gabriella went with it, falling onto its chest. She laid there for a minute, panting. Although she was terrified, she was relieved more than anything that her plan had worked.

She heaved herself up and was surprised to let out an involuntary hiss as pain shot up her body. She gritted her teeth, trying to not make any more noise than she needed to. Thinking she had just fallen on her knees too hard, Gabriella tried to stand and immediately fell back onto her knees and let out a strangled whine. She turned around and looked down and bit her lip, suppressing a curse.

In her tussle with the licker, it had penetrated her right thigh with its tail and deep enough that it had gone straight through, the tip of the tail now visible as she looked down at the front of her thigh. Running her tongue along her teeth, she took a deep breath and shuffled forward. The pain was unbearable and Gabriella felt nauseous and dizzy as she kept shuffling forward, the tail withdrawing more and more from her thigh until she fell forward on her hands and knees when it finally came out. She couldn’t help it; Gabriella let out a whimper and squeezed her eyes shut. But she couldn’t cry for too long; they had what they needed, so she just needed to find the others and leave. Part of her dreaded doing so because she knew Leon would be angry at her for abandoning the team and going out on her own. He hated her wandering tendencies and while she rarely got into too much trouble, he never let her live it down if she got hurt.

Gabriella staggered to her feet and limped towards the small room she had been in earlier. She fell against the edge of the table with a gasp, bracing against it as she rummaged through the cabinets and drawers for supplies. She found topical alcohol first and she poured it on the front and back of her thigh, groaning in the process. She searched for gauze as her leg stung in pain and Gabriella finally found it through pain induced blurry vision. She wrapped the gauze tightly around her leg until none was left, and while some blood seeped through the front and back of it, the white bandage turning run, it contained the majority of the bleeding. For now at least.

She wiped her forehead and let out a heavy breath. She had lost more blood than she thought she would have and it pooled at her shoes and it left a thick trail from where the licker’s body lay to the room she was in now. It worried her because she knew the mutated lickers had an incredible sense of smell and if they smelled fresh blood, they would find her very soon. But she tried not to think about it; instead, she shuffled out of the room with the box gripped tightly in her hand.

There was a door to her left, right across from the stairs that she had originally descended from. If she remembered the map correctly, that’s where Leon and the rest of the BSAA agents would be coming from. She inhaled sharply, squared her shoulders, and marched towards it.

It was the sound of gunfire and something falling that drew Gabriella to where the rest of the team was. As she rounded the corner, there was everyone she had abandoned at least an hour or so prior. One of the men whirled around at the sound of her footsteps and raised his rifle, the light attached to the bottom of it shining on and blinding her.

She raised her hand to cover her eyes, and raised the box in her other hand as though it was a white flag and she was surrendering. When the light lowered slightly, she lowered her own hand and waved as though nothing had happened.

“I found the samples,” she whispered as she limped towards them. “I got all of them, too. Plus some other stuff I found in this office.”

It was hard to make out everyone’s faces in the dark, but she knew, for the most part, that everyone was staring at her. She approached them as quickly as she could manage and stopped in front of Mark, the agent that she now realized was the one that had pointed his gun at her.

“What did you guys find? I got two lickers; how many did you guys get?”

Nobody responded. Alex raised his gun and flashed the light in her face again.

“Can we cut it out with the fucking lights?” She spat, covering her face.

“What happened to your leg?” He asked. He stepped forward, his run raised.

“I fell. Put the gun down, you freak.”

Leon emerged from within the group and without a word he stood beside Alex, using his body as a buffer between Gabriella and Alex.

“Let me see your eyes.” Alex growled.

“Oh, give me a fucking break.” She groaned and shifted her weight on her feet, nearly crying in pain. “Lickers can’t pass infection.”

“We don’t know about these kinds.”

Leon let out an annoyed sigh and grabbed Gabriella gently by the chin and shined his own flashlight in her eyes back and forth quickly. She squinted and jerked away from him and he let her go.

“She’s fine. Now, lets get the fuck out of here,” he grumbled and grabbed her by the arm.

The walk out of the facility was quiet, everyone still on high alert in case there were other threats they weren’t aware of. Gabriella and Leon walked in the middle of the group to protect the asset they had come to retrieve and Gabriella; she couldn’t walk well and the longer it took to leave and get medical attention, the more she bled and the more tired she got.

When they emerged from the facility, the sun had started to set and Leon guided Gabriella to one of the armored trucks. Carlos opened the trunk and Leon made a move to grab her to place her inside.

“I can do it.” Gabriella grumbled and swatted at him.

Leon gave her a knowing look and motioned for her to get in before crossing his arms. She knew she couldn’t, but she was too prideful to have anyone do anything for her. She placed her hands behind her on the bed of the truck and pushed herself up, but between the ache in her bones and the excruciating pain in her leg she wobbled and collapsed.

“I didn’t have a good grip.” She mumbled in an attempt to defend herself.

She tried again and whimpered and then yelped in protest when Leon picked her up and plopped her inside with a thud. She collided with the metal and gritted her teeth, groaning as she pushed Leon away.

“I had it, you fuck.”

“Yeah, I’m so fucking sure.” Leon turned and nearly snatched the medical kit that Carlos handed him. “Take your pants off.”

“What?”

“You pants, Gabriella. Take them off.”

She paused and blinked at him. Then she smirked. “Are you going to buy me dinner that’s not on the dollar menu?”

Leon scowled. “Do it yourself, or I will.”

Gabriella’s smirk grew into a grin. “If you do it, I will accept a dollar menu dinner. I’m a little easy like that.” 

Leon closed his eyes and it appeared as those he was praying for the will to not throttle her. “You’re unbelievable,” he muttered as he pushed her back onto her elbows to begin to take her pants off.

Carlos blushed and turned around, heading back towards Chris and Jill who were going through the contents of the transport box. Had he stayed he would’ve seen that Leon had no issue taking her pants off, as if he’d done it before. Which Leon had—this exact pair in fact. A few times even.

“I’m very excited for our dollar menu dinner tonight. What are you going to get?”

“Knock it off. I’m not in the mood.” He tugged her pants down to her ankles and with antiseptic wipes, he began to clean her thigh. Despite his negative mood, his touch was gentle and he was careful to avoid putting too much pressure on her skin as he wiped the blood away and lifted her thigh to clean the back of it.

“You mad?” Gabriella tilted her head down at him and watched him as he unraveled clean gauze.

“I am not particularly pleased right now.” He said dryly.

“I told you guys it would be faster.”

“If you were paying attention you would’ve heard the plan. We would cover more ground by going the long way. We were going to circle back through that hallway, anyway. But, like always, you don’t fucking listen.”

He looked up at her from his place on his knees beneath her. Something in his eyes shifted and instead of rage filled, icy blue eyes they had turned into something soft and muddled with an emotion she could not name.

“I didn’t think it would be a big deal.” She shrugged and looked away. Gabriella suddenly felt ashamed.

“It’s always a big deal when you don’t follow the plan or rules. You put yourself at risk, as well as everyone else.” While his tone had a chastising edge to it, Leon said it as though he was talking to himself and not at her.

“Is everyone else mad?” She asked Leon when he returned from the car they had arrived in with an extra pair of pants.

Kneeling before her again, he bunched up the pant legs and started to pull it up each of her legs. When he got to her thighs and after beckoning her to lift herself so he could pull it over her hips did he finally respond.

“I covered for you—said you had been assigned another task and were authorized to go alone.”

“Oh…” Gabriella said softly. “Thank you.”

“Mhm.” He stepped back and looked down at her. “How do you feel?”

“Tired and in pain.” She also looked down at herself and studied the pants he had put on her. “Are these yours?”

“Yeah. Your pants are too tight; it’ll aggravate the wound.”

“I keep telling you: they’re my size. I just have a fat ass.”

This made Leon laugh and she could see a dimple pop out on his cheek. 

He shook his head and patted her back. “Let’s get to the car. BSAA HQ is in the city; they have a medical team there and they’ll look you over to make sure you’re good.”

“M’kay, Mr. Kennedy.” She gave him a big smile, showing off her own dimples.

He rolled his eyes and pushed her ahead of him, making sure to keep his hand on her back as he guided her towards the car, scratching the spot in between her shoulder blades. And on the hour and a half drive to Vilnius, he kept his hand on her good thigh, rubbing it through the fabric of the pants with his thumb. And, later that night in their shared hotel room, he disregarded his bed and crawled into hers and held her close, playing with her hair as she fell asleep with her head on his shoulder.

1. The First Time

It’s always a little awkward after the sweat cools. Endorphins can only do so much. Stebbins makes animals from the shadows on the ceiling, brain for once perfectly empty as his hands trace warm, bare skin. It’s mindless; easy; an extension of the good feelings they’d chased to their inevitable conclusion.

There aren’t any words for it. His tongue’s made of lead, and the quiet settles like a blanket.

They lay like that for a while, just breathing and tangled up, but it doesn’t last. Hendricks peels away first, while Stebbins is still catching his breath. He twinges a little at the loss but keeps it off his face. His fingers curl in the sheets instead; he allows himself that much.

Hendricks cleans up with a fistful of tissues and dresses like a man who’s used to doing it quickly and in the dark. There’s a sureness to it. A looseness in his spine. He’s humming a little snatch of something, some song Stebbins doesn’t know.

“Casual?” he’d asked a few hours ago when Stebbins had finally finally bit the bullet, grew a pair, and suggested something. He’d grinned crookedly, laughing at his own private joke, “Yeah, B, I can do casual.”

Stebbins hadn’t believed it until now. Hendricks is so emotional in every other circumstance; den-mother and mother hen, constantly checking in, every feeling showing in his big dark eyes. It’s jarring to see something roll off his back without leaving a stain.

Well that’s...convenient.

Hendricks zips his jeans and bends to grab his shirt off the floor. There’s a mark on his shoulder his t-shirt covers that Stebbins doesn’t remember giving him. Embarrassment warms the pit of his stomach: usually he’s much better at controlling himself. That’s going to bruise.

“This was fun,” Hendricks says. His hair’s more fucked up than normal, mussed from Stebbins’ pillows and his hands, but he doesn’t seem to notice or care. He grins, and he’s loose and easy and casual. “You had fun?”

“You’d know if I didn’t,” Stebbins replies. He’s dead serious, but Hendricks laughs like it was a gag.

“Yeah, I figured.” God, he almost looks fond in this light. It’s something about his mouth, and his eyes. All soft.

Sex makes Hendricks smiley, that’s all, Stebbins decides. Smiley, and stupid. The same way it makes Stebbins pensive. It’s good information to have.

Hendricks fetches Stebbins’ water bottle from his desk and puts it in easy reach along with the Kleenex. His smile fades, even if the warmth behind it doesn’t. His weight shifts, shoulders drawing up. His right thumb works at the ring he wears on his index finger.

“So, til next time?” Hendricks is the one looming for once, but Stebbins has him in the palm of his hand. He tips his chin, half an acknowledgement, half a dismissal.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “I’ll find you.”

Hendricks doesn’t kiss him before he goes, which is good. It wouldn’t be casual of him at all. Hardly friends-with-benefits behaviour. He’d probably bite, too, Stebbins thinks as he pushes himself upright as the door clicks shut. Alone again. His lips sting and throb, hot under his fingers when he touches them.

Yeah. It’s a good thing. He’s had enough of being gnawed on for one night.

2. The Night Out

His pulse races like they’re about to be caught, even in the aftermath. His lungs heave for thin night air that reeks of hot garbage and Newport smoke. His knees hold, but it feels like a negotiation rather than a sure thing. He slumps back and lets the wall take his weight, sweat prickling under his arms and cold down his spine. The rough brick scrapes at his jacket and tugs at his hair when he turns his head.

Every sidelong glance he catches lands like a spark against his skin, a hot little jolt.

He looks away fast, but never for long.

Hendricks hums around a cigarette—what the hell is that song?—and the only reason he isn’t closer—too close, really, making Stebbins’ personal space his own again—is because he knows Stebbins can’t stand the stink of cigarette smoke. It makes his lungs itch.

He kind of hates that Hendricks knows that. That they’ve done this often enough that he’s being perceived at all.

Inside, their housemates are drinking and carousing and the music throbs loud enough to hear it in the alley out back. It’d been easy to slip away unnoticed. But uncertainty niggles: someone could see. Worse: someone could come looking.

The thought had been thrilling ten minutes ago. Now it just sours his stomach. He smooths out his shirt. Neatens his hair with steady fingers. Checks his fly for the fourth time. What they did feels like a brand on his cheek for anyone to see, but at least he can look put-together at a glance.

“I can’t believe we did that,” he says, and the disbelief still stewing in him irons it flat and harsh.

“I told you you’d like it.” Hendricks laughs. It pricks. He’s always hated to be laughed at. Hendricks sounds raspy and smoky and unbothered. He sounds like he just had a cock down his throat. He sounds like he liked it.

Heat rushes under Stebbins’ skin. He ignores it. Works his jaw. It twinges, sore from clenching. They’d had to be quiet, after all. Quiet, and fast. Anyone could have seen them.

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.” Hendricks tips his head and grins, cut with shadow, sharp and vulpine. All-too-knowing. “You’re easy to read.”

“What.” He bristles.

“I mean, you also came in, like, two minutes, that tends to tip a guy off—hey!”

Stebbins grabs the loudmouth by his jacket and throws him back into the wall. The leather creaks in his grip, but he barely hears it over his thundering pulse. Someone could hear him. Someone could tell. They’re in public.

“Shut up,” he grits out.

Hendricks’ eyes are wide and dark for a second. But only a second. Something passes over his face too small and fast to read. Then he laughs to himself and shows his hands up by his ears. Empty, mostly: I’m no threat. Slowly, all flash, he takes a drag off his cigarette, cherry flaring like a dying star, and blows the smoke to one side. The line of his jaw cuts through the dark, rough with yesterday’s stubble.

“Okay,” he says. “You’re embarrassed. Noted. You don’t have to get pushy about it.”

Hot with—shame? Guilt? Something worse?—fever, it must be fever, Stebbins lets him go and steps back. He flexes his hands. He shouldn’t have done that. He’s better than that. God, he has to be better than that. His Mama raised him better, didn’t she?

He opens his mouth to say something. Anything. But away in the dark a door opens. Music and laughter and light spill out. Stebbins steps back into deeper shadow, heart hammering again, fear like ice-water in his mouth. The dumpster presses into his back, cold. There’s nowhere else to go.

“Chance, you out here?” Baker calls. He sounds happy and hammered and on a different planet entirely. Just some friendly martian dropping by for a chat.

Hendricks looks at Stebbins. The shadows make a mask of his face. Stebbins sets his jaw and looks away. His teeth ache and his heart pounds caught caught caught in frantic double-time. What if Baker tells? What if his father hears—oh god, his father—

“Yeah,” Hendricks calls back. “Yeah, Art. I’m comin’.”

No you’re not. You already did. Made a fuckin’ mess of yourself with my dick in your mouth and a hand between your legs whining about how good it felt and how bad you needed it—

The words rise up like bile. He swallows them. They settle viscous and mineral-flat in the pit of his stomach. The taste lingers.

Hendricks grinds out his smoke and flicks the butt away. He glances at Stebbins one last time; he smiles like nothing’s ever touched him. Like none of this matters at all.

Then he winks and walks away.

3. The Kinky One

“I didn’t enjoy that,” he says into the quiet after. It feels like an organ tearing loose.

The quiet is the only familiar part: there’s none of the usual release, the relaxation and mindless calm. His stomach churns, his jaw clenches. Clarity leaves him cold.

Hendricks hums sleepily and shifts, draped bonelessly across his stomach. He kisses Stebbins’ chest, his collarbone, his shoulder. Each little peck seems to rouse him more and more, until he’s propping himself up on his elbows to look Stebbins in the face.

There’s no judgment in his expression; no mocking contempt when Stebbins makes himself really look. There’s—concern. Maybe some curiosity. A furrow between his eyebrows, a quirk to his raw, red mouth.

“No?”

“No.” The words dry up behind his teeth.

Hendricks’ stare scours like August sunlight back home. Just staring at the ceiling doesn’t help. He needs to cut it off; blot it out. He adjusts his grip and Hendricks’ moves like wet clay. He allows himself to be molded and reshaped, his face tucked securely into the curve of Stebbins’s neck, his dark eyes shuttered.

There. That’s better. Stebbins breathes out.

Hendricks huffs a laugh. The fingers of one hand sink into Stebbins’s hair at the nape of his neck between pillow and skin and stay there, twitching. Petting.

“Okay,” he hums. He hooks a knee around Stebbins’; catching his legs the way he couldn’t his eyes. “You didn’t like it?”

“It was fine in the moment,” Stebbins decides. The words come slow. He works to find more.

It had been...a long day. A long week. One thing after the other, heavier and heavier until his patience felt frayed to snapping in the summer heat and none of his usual tricks were working.

The sex had been an offering. An outlet. Hendricks’ cocky grin paired with the easy surety in his voice: “Bad day? Take it out on me then. I’m not gonna break.”

Stebbins had grabbed at the excuse with both hands, but in the aftermath he’s...unsettled. Bite-marks litter Hendricks’ shoulders and neck, bruises and scratches darken his hips and thighs and every other place Stebbins’s hands fell, and that’s only the damage he can see. Did he use enough lube?

Christ. He didn’t even prep him, too worked up to bother with a shred of common decency or a scrap of patience once his pants came off. He’d barely gotten the condom on, and even that had mostly been muscle memory.

“Ouch,” Hendricks laughs, here and now. “Damned by faint praise.”

“You were fine.”

“Only fine?”

“Stop fishing.” Hendricks grins against his throat, caught. Stebbins forces out some bare-faced honesty. His Mama would be so proud. “I don’t like feeling out of control like that.”

It’s more honest than he wanted to be. But Hendricks only hums, encouraging, and kisses his pulse-point. His lips linger. He really is all mouth.

There are more words but he can’t say them. Even admitting it feels—wrong. It had been good, in the moment. Better than good. He’d been vicious and satisfied and every noise he’d yanked from Hendricks’ throat had been another little victory soothing his stung pride. In the moment he hadn’t cared about anything but glutting the hunger that hollowed him out. Hendricks was secondary. He could have been anyone. Stebbins had reduced him to a wet hole and an eager throat and he’d felt good about it.

Am I a bad person?

Probably not. But the worry persists.

“Okay,” Hendricks says with a yawn. “So we won’t do it again.”

“What?”

It can’t be that easy. Hendricks had been into it—eager for it, even. It had been his idea in the first place. But he lets go of the possibility of a repeat performance as easily as he does anything, with an open hand and a shrug.

“Mm. Yeah. If you’re not into it then we can skip it.”

“But...”

The cold tip of Hendricks’ nose nudges the underside of his jaw. “What’s the point in doing it if we’re not both having fun?”

“You’re not,” it doesn’t make sense. It’s like he doesn’t care at all about being disrespected, being reduced. “...upset?”

“No?” He shifts like he means to get up and Stebbins panics. He tightens his grip and keeps Hendricks where he put him in the first place.

Hendricks stays.

He goes boneless, actually, which sets a little satisfied flicker dancing behind Stebbins’ ribs that he doesn’t want to look at too closely. Or at all.

“I asked you to. It was fun, but—what?”

“Fun.” Stebbins scoffs. “Did you even get off?”

He’s expecting annoyance, a prickle of displeasure at the reminder. Hendricks withdraws when he’s upset. He withholds. Stebbins braces for the chill.

Instead, Hendricks laughs breathlessly and shoves his arm in his face.

“Are you kidding?” he asks. There’s a perfect ring of teeth going dark on his forearm, imprinted deep into the skin. It’s already starting to bruise black and red. The arm drops. So does Hendricks’ voice when he tips his head and puts his mouth to Stebbins’ ear. “I came hands-free on your cock, biting down so I wouldn’t wake half the house.” Then a tease: the sting of teeth against the lobe before Hendricks drops his chin and tucks back into his neck.

“So if that’s what’s bugging you, knock it off. I had a great time. I’m a freak, but that doesn’t mean I’m an asshole. If you don’t wanna do it like that again we won’t. There’s nothing wrong with the way we normally fuck. Obviously.”

Obviously.

He makes it so easy. Stebbins swallows hard.

“Okay,” he says. He starts to sit up, looking for his clothes. He’d thrown them off to wherever-the-fuck before, and the oversight annoys him now. “I’ll be right back. Stay here.”

Hendricks sprawls out like he owns the bed. He bled on it. Maybe he does. He’s scratched and bitten and bruised and well-fucked, but he grins up at Stebbins, all teeth, like he’s won something. “Aw, you wanna take care of me?”

“Shut up.”

“You doo-oo,” he sing-songs.

“Jesus fuckin’ wept, Hendricks.”

His raspy laughter chases Stebbins from his own bedroom.

He doesn’t entirely hate it.

4. The Afterparty

“Did Barko actually need help?”

Stebbins doesn’t startle at the sound, just makes a questioning noise in the back of his throat without opening his eyes. Hendricks hadn’t been sleeping, just curled boneless in their little blanket nest, so it was no surprise he’d broken the quiet. He doesn’t move at all, except to open his mouth. His breath fans hotly against the hollow of Stebbins’s throat, raising goosebumps.

His hair’s a soft mess against Stebbins’s fingers. He closes his fist, tugging, thinking aimlessly of a second round. He could go again. They’ve got time. They could make time.

Hendricks moans—fuck, what a pretty noise—and refuses to be deterred.

“Barkovitch. Ye high. Bottle blond. You’ve met.”

“Unfortunately.”

Under the quilts, Hendrick’s back hitches in a quiet laugh. His palm slides along the curve of Stebbins’ waist, heavy and sure. Even his rings are warm. “Before. You said he was asking for me, but I couldn’t find him when I looked.”

“Oh. That.”

The sound of the party filters up through the floor, distant as stars. Something shatters. Someone laughs. Music throbs. The attic is a world unto itself, cool and quiet, dark but for the glow from the streetlights filtering in. Falling snow diffuses the light into something soft and hazy.

“He didn’t need you when I found you.” A pause. Someone screams like they’ve been shot on the ground floor. It’s not Stebbins’ problem. He just came so hard he can’t feel his legs. He flexes his toes. Or at least, he hopes he does. He tries to count his toes. One, two, three... “He might now.”

“Now why would you do that?”

“Figured it’d be true enough soon.”

“Okay,” says Hendricks. His chin digs into Stebbins’s ribs. “And what happened to Jason?”

“Who?”

“You know who.”

“You sure?”

“The one with the dark hair and dimples. And the arms.”

“You liked his arms?” Stebbins opens his eyes just to squint at the ceiling. Shadows stretch long fingers into strange shapes. He frowns.

“Ha. So you do know who I’m talking about.”

Stebbins lets the silence settle. Hendricks scoffs wryly and starts to rise. The cold rushes in.

“Careful, B. Sending me on a wild goose chase to scare off the guy I was talking to doesn’t seem very casual. You’ll make me think you actually like me or something.”

His throat clicks when he swallows. He burns every place they touch and freezes every place they don’t.

“Or something,” he agrees.

+1: Whoops, You’re Dating

The sheets are warm. He stretches out an arm hopefully across the mattress, searching. Realization comes too soon:

The bed’s empty.

He’s alone.

Fuuuuuck.

“Well that was a poor showing,” he groans into the pillow. Humiliation washes him from the inside out. What am I, sixteen in the back of my mom’s pick-up truck again? God. Fuck. No wonder he bolted.

“Oh, I wouldn’t go that far. I take it as a compliment, really.”

Stebbins rolls over. The clock says he’s been dozing forty-five minutes; the thought doesn’t make him cringe for once. The curtains are still drawn tight, but rain taps at the window. Hendricks sits at his desk, jotting something down in a notebook with a chewed up pen. He takes up space like its his right; like he’s comfortable here; like Stebbins’ things are his things.

He’s still wearing that old shirt, washed thin and soft and shapeless. Property of Jefferson Athletics Department faded across the chest. It’s too big on him; the stretched-out neckline sags to reveal a lovebite on his collarbone and a nicotine patch nearer to his shoulder.

It doesn’t spark the same frenzy it did earlier: Stebbins, blindsided; Hendricks sleep-rumpled, in Stebbins’ bed, wearing his clothes. But, Christ, he’s only flesh and blood.

“You look cold over there.”

“Do I?”

“Freezing.”

“It’s May.”

“Record snowfall last week.”

“Yeah, in Montana.”

“Aren’t you the one that says that sickness abides no man?”

“Doesn’t sound like me.”

“You sure?”

Hendricks grins down at his notes like Stebbins can’t see him. It’s such a stupid smile it drags at the corners of Stebbins’ own mouth in sympathy.

“Chance,” he rasps.

“No.”

“What do you mean, no?”

“I mean no. You have a look.”

“What look?”

“You know what look.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“A scheming look. And I’ve got stuff.” He gestures with the pen, then puts it back in his mouth.

“Stuff.” He will not be jealous of an inanimate object. He will not. He has standards.

“Uh-huh.”

“Sounds important.”

“You’re such a dick,” Hendricks laughs. “Drink your tea and leave me alone, Romeo. I’ve got a sonnet to finish.”

There’s a mug on the bedside table, still steaming. A lemon-wheel bumps against his lip when he drinks. It’s bitter and sour and perfect. He settles against the headboard, pleased. Cradling the tea between his hands, he slowly shifts the blankets down his legs. The door’s locked and the air’s warm, the knot of tension pulsing behind his right shoulder-blade has unravelled entirely. He’s as close to relaxed as he ever gets.

He lets his attention settle where it wants. Hendricks doesn’t look up from his notebook. That’s okay. Stebbins can wait.

Stebbins can be excruciatingly patient, if the need calls for it. If grinding himself down to the bone can’t get him what he wants, sometimes waiting will do the trick. In the mean time, he drinks his tea, and shifts minutely to the best possible angle to lounge comfortably. Could he be doing something else? Yeah. But he wants to be doing this instead. Free will, and all that. Maybe living with these lunatics is rubbing off on him at last.

The thing is:

He knows exactly what he looks like naked. Better than that, he knows exactly what it does to Hendricks to see it displayed.

The mug’s half-full by the time Hendricks glances up, stops, and blinks. He wets his lower lip, all eyes.

Stebbins smirks. He shifts his knee a fraction. Hendricks’ gaze lights on his ankle, touches his knee, drags up the length of his thigh, up and up, and it takes an age to catch him. He bites his lip.

Hendricks’ eyes are very dark, when they eventually pour into his.

“How’s the sonnet?” Stebbins asks.

“Oh, fuck you.”

Hendricks tosses aside the pen and rises. He crosses the room in three strides, and seeing him worked up about anything is always entertaining. The smirk Stebbins wears flickers into something shit-eating and undoubtedly pleased. He sets aside the mug before a lapful of Hendricks can knock it out of his hand entirely.

“Such a dick,” he mutters and drags Stebbins into a kiss.

He’s had worse.