#offcast-plus1

A pretty girl, he thought to himself, gentle-looking if a bit suspicious, she was braver in what she cared to see than most people and unflinching. He could feel her measure him, and was used to it from curious onlookers or the odd admirer, but it felt different with this one… Not a mad love there nor hatred, but a cold analysis. And it was then that he wondered to himself: would she not make a terrific agent?

Just in time for her delivery, the girl reached the street with their safe passage — but not so safe anymore, as there was a posse of militias around. They hadn't lifted the manhole, but it seemed as if they were waiting for something. Maybe it had nothing to do with her, but nevertheless she couldn't go that way now. So she took a detour, a long walk a few blocks over as the night picked up and it began to drizzle. By the time she was supposed to reach her group, she had barely made it to the sewers, but at least she was safe.

Then, she heard them. Boots sounding deep in the dark, cutting the cold stone with their unwelcome sound, and the rustling of armour. Before she took another step, the girl hid in an alcove and waited for the men to pass, but they never did. Instead, the sounds got fainter, further, until they disappeared. Like a rabbit coming out of its burrow, she snuck back out and looked around, but there was no one in sight. With a feeling of greater urgency, she rushed through the twists and turns until she found their base and, after the correct knock, the doorway opened for her. It was masked to seem like a cover of bricks, but it led into an old administrative office.

They'd made the best of it, repurposing the rotted out furniture and dirty plastic into things they could use. Old lamps cast a jaundiced glow around the place, as no electricity flowed, and a patchwork of lead plates was woven around the ceiling. At the back of the room stood one tall ladder like a dead tree, their emergency escape route that led to the central park.

"You're late." One of the men came to greet her.

"There were octs around the manhole, I couldn't go in the normal way," she huffed, handing him the package. "And… I think I heard some more. Down here?"

"What, around our base?" asked one of the women as she put the cupcakes to the side and picked up the explosives.

"Not close, but… I think they were in the sewers."

"Maybe those were just sanitation workers."

The girl bit her lip and didn't voice the nagging feeling in her heart, watching distractedly as the chemists made use of her delivery and added it to some of the contraptions they were making — small and a bit silly, they looked like toys, but she didn't want to think about that now.

She'd just went to help some of the other women put the cakes and pastries on big plates to serve the members, brushing the gunpowder off, when those sounds came again… Through the walls, an incessant thumping of steady boots that got closer, closer, until suddenly it stopped. Halfway turned toward the door, she and the whole group were standing stiff, breathless, waiting a wait that never seemed to end while, really, just a few minutes passed. One of them scarcely moved when suddenly a huge sound boomed across the room, so strong it shook the tables: it rang like metal hitting metal. Then another, and the door burst open.

Those who had the rifles around their shoulders pointed them, the others took theirs from nearby, but there was no use. Before they could blink, a small army grew from the shadows, the red of their night goggles glowing. The tips of their enormous weapons met the light before they did, black metal shining.

"Stand down," called a robotic sounding voice through a breathing filter. "You are guilty of conspiracy."

The rebels didn't make a move, nor did they give up. They looked at each other and found resilience there, and fear as well, but the girl only looked toward the Soldier. He was leading the contingent — or 'octs', as the rebels called them, in mockery of Hydra's symbol. Steady, large, confident and quiet, he surveyed the compromised base until his sight stopped on her, and it was at that point that she could admit it to herself: this was her fault, she had led them here, because she stopped too long to look at him.

"Surrender," came his low growl, spoken to the room but, somehow, just to her, "and we will be merciful."

"I don't think so, tin man," shouted one of the rebels as he stood above a crate, rifle in hand and pointed.

The Soldier turned toward the boy and he had just to cock his assault weapon for the room to go quiet. The men at his back reading theirs as well, waiting for his order. None of them seemed afraid of the pack of miscreants, their armour was more than suited to take a spray of old fashioned bullets compared to the rebels who were dressed in plain clothes.

As the feeling of imminent death lingered, the girl felt all the more hungry for it, and in a thoughtless moment she stared the Soldier down and shouted a cold, hissing curse.

"Murderer! You'll never win, however many innocent people you kill."

He turned his head to look again at her, seeming in equal parts bored and irritated from what little his face mask revealed.

"Is that what you think you are?" he asked her. "Innocent?"

It didn't seem to mean much for the others, but his question took her aback, and she remained quiet while the man turned fully to her and steadily approached. The women around her wanted so badly to cower but didn't, and neither did she, though the closer he got the more she understood the sheer size of him. He didn't even need the gun to kill them, all it would take is one grip in that metal hand and it would all be over.

"Do you think," the Soldier started, standing right in front of her, "that's what got you here?"

Further away, one of the men began to argue with a soldier, and it turned into a pack shouting at each other, but the sounds faded each time they bounced around the room and they washed right over her as she looked up, frowning, at the Asset. As if waiting for her honest answer, he took his goggles off. His eyes were smiling.

"Why don't you just punish me?" she said to him quietly, but those standing nearby still heard it.

The girl had understood his meaning: it was because of her that they found the hideout, she was guilty, and now all that she could hope was that she didn't antagonise the Soldier further.

"Kill me and let the others go."

"I can't do that."

"Just arrest them, then, but…"

"Sir!" called another from in the midst of the shouting match. "Your orders!" They wanted the liberty to fire.

The Soldier looked at him enough for the man to know that he should wait, but the standoff was dragging on too long for a room of people that meant to kill each other, and while the rebels were sure that they were all about to die, they seemed eager to get it done — though there were some that eyed that tall thin ladder less subtly than they thought.

"Why do you hate me, in particular?" she whispered.

"Because you're on the wrong side," the Asset sighed, turning back to her. "And why do you hate me?"

"Because you're a monster."

His body moved in something like a chuckle and he nodded — more in indifference than agreement, like trying to settle down a child. The girl's body stiffened and inched back when she saw him reaching for his weapon, certain that this was where he killed her, but he only moved the rifle back onto his shoulder and then gripped her elbow, dragging her in front.

"Arrest them," he muttered to one of his men in passing. "Kill any who resist."

"Yes sir!"

To the crying of the incredulous women, he pulled her with him to a sideways room, and she went along as if to her own death — because that what was going to happen, he was going to execute her just like she offered. Her elbow hurt in his hard metal grip and she struggles only enough to find some comfort, but with every step her stomach sunk. She almost begged him not to do it, to wait a little more, give her just one day, but a small sad voice in her head told her it would all end the same anyway.

As if she were a fist of flowers and he a careless gust, he shoved her in and shut the door, muffling the cries and shouting from outside. The Soldier locked it for good measure and tried the switch on the wall but, of course, no light came on. With a sigh he pulled out a stick and cracked it, a deathly phosphorescent glow in Hydra-green cutting through the darkness.

Moving backwards blindly, the girl hit upon a table of some sort. She didn't even care to look around, but had spotted some bottles, jars, and empty pots filled with dead earth. It wasn't a pretty place to die, but it was fitting. Yet as she thought these things, she heard the clatter of a weapon on the ground, and looking up she saw the Soldier taking off his guns.

"What are you doing?" she asked in a strangled voice.

"You surrendered?" he asked, watching her over his shoulder.

"Never. Kill me and be done with it."

That cold chuckle once again, sounding clearer as the man unclasped the mask over his face and pulled it off, letting it rest down with the weapons. For one hot flashing moment the fear of death left her as she watched him come, walking confidently and with that heavy lilt, messy head of hair coming down around his cheeks, but most of all that face, revealed, more striking than in any picture. His eyes seemed softer than they had any right to be, his lips were fleshy red and slightly smiling, and the gentle scruff of beard gave him an oddly domestic quality, as if he'd just woken up beside her and was coming close to —

No, she couldn't think it.

It was only when he touched her face that she realised she'd looked away, down to the ground as if she were ashamed. The flesh hand that caressed her chin was gentle, careful, as it moved her up until she gazed at him.

The girl was frightened but most of all confused, frowning with perhaps the question of why she wasn't dead yet, but he'd show her why... Soft enough to give her time to think, but holding her now firmly enough that she couldn't get away, the Soldier eclipsed her body and leaned down for a kiss. He felt her gasp, her freezing muscles, and her little moan echoed against his mouth, but he kept his lips on top of her to muffle them, tasting her as gently as a shy young lover.

When he felt her head start pulling backwards on his fingers, his other hand came up. Against the unyielding metal, her shirt gave way in seconds, tearing off her skin and leaving her to shiver in the sepulchral chamber.

"Surrender yet?" the man husked as he barely pulled away from her.

"Never," she hissed, realising now what his whole game was.

Her hands tried to cover her, but the Soldier's hand was still around her front, what threads were left there. His flesh hand came down to hold her by the neck while he finished undressing her, pulling the tatters away while the girl screamed and cursed at him, trying to claw away his fingers, kick him off or squirm away, but it wasn't any use. What was left of her clothes pooled around her feet, trapping her almost as much as he was.

"If only you knew how wasted you are on those people," he sighed as he took her in, eyes licking across her body even as she dressed herself in her folded hands. "Nevermind. You can be wasted on me, now."

"No! This wasn't —"

He cut her off with another kiss, angrier and more hungry than the last, and this one travelled lower. Metal fingers curled themselves in the girl's locks while the other held her by the neck, and leaning her back against the table the Soldier trailed his mouth lower: to her shoulder, giving it a little bite when she struggled a bit hard, then the top of her chest, the gentle curve of one breast, then the other, teasing her with kisses that went softer and softer the closer they got to her peaks, where they turned to the lightest, most superficial lappings of his tongue.

Her body shivered once again, but not in anger, as the man's laps and nibbles passed from one and to the other, teasing until both tips turned tight and blushing from all the attention they were getting. When a moan at last broke through her gritting teeth, he ended with a kiss upon her ribcage and enjoyed the thumping of her heart beneath.

The Soldier pulled her slightly up the table then, steadied her with both his elbows by her chest and clasped her feet between his thighs. Within the silence of the room, save for her please, he heard one little shoe fall down, and smiled. He took his time kissing down her stomach. Her scent was slightly stronger there, still sweet but with a more suggestive quality, and each time he sighed out from his own impatience he felt her shiver.

"Did you really think I was about to kill you?" he muttered to her skin. "That I would waste a thing like you?"

"I'm not a thing that can be wasted," hissed the girl, voice shaking with tears but still angrier than just afraid.

Muffled shouts broke through the door, the sound of gunfire, and some cries, but then the same chaotic silence settled back as the militia carted her friends away.

"You sure aren't," he smirked, reaching now what was her most guarded place.

"Please don't," she whispered, suddenly bargaining all sweetly. "I don't... I'm not..."

"You'll do as you're told," growled the Soldier, "and submit."

His kiss fell right above her mound, lips closed and dry but loving. The hand left her hair to move down to her hip and hold her still as he moved back onto his haunches and just looked at her, at what the faint green light revealed. The girl held her legs closed shut and so he moved his kisses to her thighs, tasting her where her skin was softest, nibbling now and then, then going up until his lips could bury themselves into hers and kiss them as he did her mouth: gently, generously, with a raving hunger underneath.

Distantly he felt her claws sink in the hand that gripped her neck, and right against her girlhood the Soldier smiled, moving his lips back to growl at his little wildcat before he moved back in with stronger kisses that parted for small laps at her clit, teasing it out of his protective hood until it too blushed hotly against his tongue, eager to come out to play.

"Stop it stop it, stop, stop, stop," she rambled.

Looking up, the Soldier saw her eyes were closed, head tilted back as if she could wish herself away. Beneath his chin and at his chest, he felt her legs trembling, tangling themselves even tighter in her ruined clothes the more she tried to move. He almost pitied her, but he wanted her too much; he'd wanted her since he saw her on the street, this brave mad girl that Hydra had their eyes on, he'd since read, for quite a while. Fearless, idealistic, and a little stupid, she'd do anything for something she believed in, jump into the jaws of death as soon as pull the trigger on a worthy enemy: in short, she was his favourite kind of woman. If she were by his side, in Hydra, she would be unstoppable.

His tongue reached out, almost shyly, and brushed against her lips, pulling out her gushing juices then tempering her hardened tip with them. Soon his moans were mixing with her own until neither knew which belonged to who, and it became harder to hold her legs still while his length grew painfully in its confines.

"Your lips are pretty swollen, doll," he moaned as he parted from her, grey eyes slitting up for a chance to see her face. He caught her looking down, all breathless, and instantly fell in love with that lost look in her eyes. "You sure you're not in pain?"

"W-what do you— Oh."

A blush grew from her neck to the tips of her ears, and if possible she closed up her legs even tighter. Her inner thighs were damp by now and a bit red, rubbed raw by his light scruff and dripping with her essence. As the Soldier held her eyes in his, he leaned again for a small lap against her womanhood, lips closing on the puffy flesh while his tongue slipped out for one last scrape from her twitching entrance all the way to her hardened tip. Her body trembled head to toe when he was done.

She bit her lip and swallowed a few whimpers, forgetting to even look away, too drunk on him to care by now: his lips were redder, eyes dark and glassy, and all about him was an air of hunger. He only let her go a fraction of a second and she fell back against the table, still with enough sense to brace back on her elbows while she watched him peel his clothes off. The Soldier's grey eyes held her still, pinned her like a captured thing while he let his jacket drop, the dark shit underneath come up and then fall too, leaving his hair even messier, but she didn't mind. He took one more step forward, panting and intent on her, as he unbuttoned his trousers and slightly pushed them down.

"I don't want it," she gasped, looking into his eyes rather than his body however much her gaze was drawn to his broad chest, those corded muscles, his soft chest, and the net of scars around the metal shoulder that made her, against her every ounce of hatred, pity him.

"Surrender to me," he asked once more, crowding her against the table and holding her hips down with one hand. "If you won't do it willingly, I'll make you."

"And what? What will happen with me if I do?"

He smiled at her and tilted his head slightly. "That's up to you."

"I won't do it," she shook her head. "I won't."

"Then I'll make you do it. Would you like that?" asked the Soldier, leaning in. The edges of his undone trousers scratched against her sensitive thighs. "Would you like me to get you to surrender?"

"No," she hissed through her gritted teeth, but sounded no more frightening than a petulant house pet.

"I think you would," he smirked, tilting his head in a teasing way, as if he wished to kiss her.

But the girl just shook her head, lips clasped together tightly even as tears slipped from the corners of her eyes.

"Yes, you would," the man breathed out, look now turned more pleading than the smugness that was there before.

"No—"

She barely got to say it when she felt him at her core. The metal hand held her down while his fingers carried his length to her, moving up and down as he blindly searched for that little hole. He spread her legs just far enough to fit himself, and spread his own to brace against the floor. Traitoriously, her body seeped for him, and right against her she could feel the precum bubble up from his tip too, warmer than what her body made though just as sticky. The girl tried to move up higher on the table, hoping that he couldn't reach her, but it was in vain, and though her legs were clasped almost together, and he seemed to have no mind to free her in that way, the Soldier kept pushing forward, desperate to be let in.

The tips of his fingers were a bit calloused, the skin around his member pulled back to reveal the blood-hot tip, and as it touched the fleshiest part of her he moaned and his head leaned forward, resting on her neck. His mouth busied itself with kissing her, biting groans into her straining throat, while between the hand around her hips and his love-starved manhood the Soldier tried to push himself inside.

"You can take me, sweet girl, you can take me..." he mumbled into her skin, sounding far from the confident and cold-blood killer she had met before.

As the tip of his cock just barely pressed beyond her entrance, he moaned as if in pain, then kissed her to distract himself. One of the girl's hands left the table to come up at his shoulder and claw there, scraping against the tough skin before losing her grip in the sweat, then coming up to steady herself onto him again. His scent filled her lungs, the sound of his sighs and panting swam around her, and right where she was the most sensitive she felt him trying to get in.

Through sheer force, he shoved himself inside until the tip was hugged by her convulsing entrance, finally breathing out a breath that tickled all the way down her chest, while she cried out and begged him. The Soldier rested there a while, feeling her lips like a hungry mouth try to settle around the flesh he pierced her with, warm with blood and his earlier attentions and softer than anything he'd felt.

The man let go of his shaft and used the hand to wrap around her hair again, fingers threading through her messy locks and petting her, in his own way, letting her tired head lean back while his lips rested on the centre of her throat to better feel her timid, frightened moans. The thumb of his metal hand moved up and down her hip, trying to calm the girl the further he went in. Her little hole swallowed him slowly, flexing and convulsing the deeper in he went, hugging his hot swollen flesh so strongly it strangled him.

Through the pain and the sharp fear, she could feel every ridge and vein, could feel him warm her from within, his body giving life to hers instead of taking it, though he took something else in turn.

"Please stop," she whimpered tearfully, "it hurts me."

He groaned as if in thought and raised his head enough to look at her. "Not a bad alternative to being dead, is it?" The Soldier's plush mouth smiled a lazy smile and his eyes were lidded, but even through the dark poor light she felt more seen, more known, than she ever had before. "Say that you're mine," he whispered, sounding serious if a little pleading.

It shocked her so much she couldn't even tell him 'no'. She only woke up from her daze when he shoved in a little deeper, length scraping her tight walls as he fought his way inside and stayed, letting her flex around him until she took it, then pushed in more.

"You'll be well taken care of if you're mine," the Soldier added, eyes drifting between hers and seeming open. The line between his forehead deepened as he tried to think of what to say to make her see it, and believe it, and take the offer that he made. "I'll let you leave if you don't like me, but give it a chance, doll..."

"I don't think I can..." she whispered back, fingers flexing around the muscled shoulder as if he were a lifeline.

"You can," he sighed, lips coming down to kiss her cheek then resting by her ear. "You can do anything you want, just let me... let me have you."

Mutely, the girl shook her head but felt too drunk on him to fight it anymore. Just as her legs relaxed from tiredness, she felt him shove the distance that was left and hit the end of her, pushing a pained cry from her lips. He cooed and tried to shush the girl, in between his own desirous moaning.

"There you go," he praised her, "my good girl. Took all of it... Can you open up a bit more?"

"No, I—"

"Can't you, doll? Can't you loosen this sweet body just a little more? You're almost hurting me, you're so tight."

"It's too much, please, s—"

"I know it is, doll. You're so afraid of me, aren't you? I don't want to hurt you, sweetheart."

The Soldier pet the hair out of her sweaty face and kissed all down her neck, sending shivers down her spine that helped her to relax. All along her stomach she felt his muscles flexing right against her, her breasts teasing themselves against his chest with every breath, and all across between them right to the point where he entered her their sweat mingled and tickled along down, together. Tiredly she let her head lean against his, their cheeks brushing, while her girlhood tried to settle around the thick length that forced it open. As calm and quiet filled the room, cut through only by their panting breaths, she focused on the feeling of her lower lips kissing the root of him, brushing now and then against his sac as they flexed to a heartbeat tune.

He either thought he'd given her enough time, or he was done with waiting, but soon the Soldier pulled back, slowly, dragging his hot throbbing length against her, then shoved back in with a muffled heave. The girl cried out and struggled in his arms, but took her punishment — because that's what this was, wasn't it? Her punishment for getting caught.

Her legs tensed whenever he pressed in, and went limp whenever he pulled out, but there was always at least the tip inside, holding her forcibly open for his taking. The pain inside her turned to a long, feverish pleasure, and all it took was for his thumb to travel to that spot above her entrance, and pull up the hood that hid her little nub, and then with every thrust he teased her to distraction.

"Stop!" she gasped with panting breath, shivering within his arms. "Stop it! It feels... it's too much! Please!"

"That's it, doll," he moaned as he moved faster. "I'll get you to surrender to me, won't I? Get you to take what I'm giving you," he cooed, pressing one long kiss against her neck.

His sac kept teasing at the very bottom of her entrance, slapping it as if it wanted to go inside her too, and as she dripped down all along his swollen flesh, with every shove their mixed up juices sprinkled down her thighs.

"You're mine, aren't you? All mine, my pretty doll, my good girl, with her sweet little girl parts all tight and swollen for me," the Soldier moaned, drunk on this newfound love and already obsessed with her, with her tight little body, her breakable bones, her cries and all of her surrender as he felt her muscles melting in his grip. "Say you're mine, say it."

"myours," she mumbled right against his neck.

"Again."

"I'm yours, I'm yours, I—"

Her surrender to him was cut off with a string of moans, entire body shaking as he brought her over. The man's thrusting never ceased, pleasuring her body with his hard, heavy flesh, holding himself back just for the joy of feeling her convulse around him.

"Good girl, good girl, come for me," the Soldier whispered, holding her still by the hips as he prolonged her pleasure, pulling back to just look at her face, her sapless lips now good for nothing but whines and whimpers, eyes seeing his but foggy.

She was still shivering when he let himself release, and he took care to push it deep, burying himself as far as he could go and pressing even further while his sac was flexing and pushed ropes of cum within his little prisoner. He could see her eyes widen at the feeling of his twitching manhood, feeling his blood-hot release spill inside and be plugged up. Her entrance was all relaxed now, taking him in but sated, closing up against the shaft that conquered it and made her part of him.

"You're mine now," he groaned, sounding equal parts smug and loving. "You see, doll? I made you surrender yourself to me after all."

She turned back around, her face calm but not stern, mouth unsmiling but with easy eyes, and went to the side of that flouncy little rascal. She dabbed his inner elbow with a cotton swab then went to take a blood sample, and she touched him so lightly as she did, with what could only be described as gentleness. The Asset turned his eyes away and nearly growled, but grit his teeth again instead, and through the clatter of the room nobody heard it. And then, the lout began to speak.

He didn't turn his head to listen, but he could make out some slimy invitation, some crude suggestion that she give the man a 'private treatment', at the bottom of the barracks, 'after hours'. The nurse gave barely a chuckle, a little huff that said she wasn't charmed, but she stayed next to him while the syringe filled up.

"You don't want me strong and happy?" the bastard asked with an audible smirk.

"You're strong enough," she firmly said, but still a smile came through.

That did it. He tore his eyes away from the nothing he'd be staring at — maybe a wall, maybe equipment, maybe a frightened flock of doctors — and saw her from the corner of his eye: bent just slightly, but too much, but not enough, with a wry smile on her lips as she kept pulling on that stopper. Then she was done and quickly wiped his skin down with the sterile swab, and only then her eyes went up and caught the Asset's gaze.

She got busy with other things while her colleagues were wrapping up, and eventually made her way to the supply room to look for more rubbing alcohol and gauze. It wasn't often that she got chills, not after the first few weeks of working with the Soldiers, but whenever he's around... And when his cold eyes hit her skin, she could feel it, she could almost swear she felt it every time. Even when it stopped being frightening, in particular, she felt it somewhere deep.

Could he tell? Probably not.

The Asset finished his check-up and was released, with orders to report for training in one hour. It didn't take him long to track her down, and as he approached her, he quieted his steps as, slowly, she came into view. She pretended to be working, but her mind was elsewhere; he could understand that well enough.

The doorway and the corridor were dark, but the little alcove she had hidden in was spotted by a naked light, and in this rarer privacy he could look at her, in her quiet movements, her fidgeting feet, the bend of her neck that exposed a bit of skin, and the wisps of hair that looked so soft curling on her nape... But before he was done enjoying the view, she turned: first partly, then fully back around, and caught him. He didn't seem embarrassed, he made himself not be. The Asset only looked at her more boldly, more hotly, then stepped forward.

His lovely nurse had nowhere to run to, she'd cornered herself, and she stared him down in the small way she could. But by the time he reached her, the coldness of her gaze had melted and she looked up at him, so close and dangerous and forbidden, and though her lips parted to speak, she couldn't say a word.

He let his gaze caress her features, all anger forgotten for a while, but the spell broke when his hand came up to caress a tendril from her face.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, not too unkindly but sounding anxious; the clipboard she was holding made a starker sound as she put it down on the counter.

"I thought you offered after-hours treatment," he whispered with a smirk.

Her head pulled up in tight offense and her eyes shadowed fast against him. "You shouldn't joke like that. You know that you can get in trouble, and us nurses as well."

"Oh, I'm sorry," the Soldier hummed, "I thought you liked it."

"I didn't," she bit back.

He began to think something, but before he finished, it tumbled out of him: "Do you want me to take care of him?"

His sudden change from teasing to this frightened her a bit, but the threat was not to her. "It isn't necessary. But, thank you," she softly said.

The Asset turned his head just slightly to the side as he listened for any hint of sound from the corridor, and hearing nothing, he stepped closer to her. She pushed herself just slightly against the counter and held onto it, but her eyes stayed on his face, and they seemed warmer now — maybe since it was so dark, maybe since he was so close, but they and her mouth and the apples of her cheeks looked sweet as candy.

She inhaled sharply once, and the impact of his scent drove a shiver through her body. Her eyes travelled down to his lips so delicately draw, the soft curve of his chin, and that strong hint of chest peeking from a dirty t-shirt distracted her, as if she'd never seen him before, as if she'd never been close to him before, as if she'd never thought —

"Why did you tell him no?"

The question brought her back, and she looked into his eyes: cold, inquisitive, hard on her, but hopeful. "Because I'm afraid," she answered honestly.

"Would you say no to me too?"

"I would."

He breathed in harshly, but kept in his sighs, and instead steadied his arms around her on the wooden counter. "Because you're afraid?" he asked her evenly.

The girl felt even smaller before him, and bit her lips as she thought of what to say, and whether to admit... "Because we shouldn't."

Something in his body seemed to give, the cage of his arms loosening around her, but looking up in his eyes, he seemed ready to argue, to fight against it somehow. Then, she got up on her tiptoes and leaned herself toward him, and kissed just the slightest bit of skin at the top of his chest, then wrapped her arms around his waist.