#violescent

Aboard Sanctuary, spirits were high. Did they have a reason to be? Nah, not really, but that didn't stop someone from clearing the cargo bay and throwing a shindig. Maybe folks on the vessel were happy because nothing had gone wrong lately.

Everyone, that was, except his partner.

As of late, Amara had been...off, to say the least. She had been quieter the last few weeks, so lost in herself that it seemed she had taken up meditation in the damndest of places - while standing, no less. More than once, he had tried to get her attention, only to have her snap out of her staring and snap at him. He supposed that was fair enough but still, it was concerning.

If only Amara's siren powers were reversed and he had the ability to glance into her mind, he might have uncovered what the problem was. All the attempts he had made to lightly prod her behaviors had ended up brushed off or blamed on hormones. He knew she was late and that it made her crampy. According to her, there was nothing else to say. She apologized...and after that, had walked away. 

Given his genitals, it wasn't like he could relate - and thank God for that. He couldn't say he would handle it any better if he PMSed. As it was, Amara tended to handle her mood swings better than many women did...so the fact that she seemed downright miserable made his brows knit tightly together. He just hoped that any day now, the flood gates would open and all her problems would bleed out. Perhaps what she needed was a hard reset.

Until then, he watched his Irish mouth and maintained a safe distance. Being the last damn person to want to be dissected, he respected her silence and patiently withheld his opinions. He didn't physically press, either, as she had become somewhat avoidant of sex. It was either that or she pounced him so unexpectedly, and without warning, that she left him as disheveled as a man who lost a fight with a tiger. 

The first time Amara had shied away from his advances, he had snuck a whiff of his armpits to ensure he wasn't offensive. Since then, nothing had been that simple. As far as he knew, he hadn't done anything to piss her off. The fact she was still willing to fuck him, if less frequently, was a hopeful sign. All it took was one stifled gasp during intercourse for him to deduced that she was physically uncomfortable. That didn't exactly get his gears going either, so he had offered manual stimulation on the last few occasions.

Sure, he missed being buried inside her and releasing deep, where it felt best for both of them, but he never turned down a chance to eat her out or finger her to a finish. It wasn't to say their sex life wasn't good still, but it had definitely declined, leaving him to take matters into his own hands. The last thing he wanted was to lose his drive or stamina. He could only assume he would need to be at his best whenever Amara got over whatever went on in her head.

Annnnd if he didn't? Well, it was probably about time he began acting his age. Tied down as he was, there wasn't much of a point in wanting to feck every day if his partner didn't want it, even if that was his favorite way to get in his cardio. God knew he had plenty of other ways to be annoying!

That was perfectly fair, he supposed. Quality over quantity and all that. Frisky feller he was, he figured he could use a wee bit of practice giving Amara affection in ways that didn't involve shucking his pants. So long as she didn't get mad at him for getting hard whenever he touched her, he was free to hold her, kiss her, and sweetly caress her. She was usually receptive and glad to receive that loving attention.

He couldn't blame her when she wasn't in the mood for any of it. Sometimes, she just looked plain tired. The last time he'd beaten her to bed and greeted her wearing nothing but a sexy grin and a ready boner, things hadn't gone as planned. Upon seeing the first glimpse of her exhausted features, he had frowned and thrown the sheets over himself.

She hadn't even dominated him in some time. Just because she didn't want to get fecked didn't mean he would mind it. In fact, he would have loved it - so much, he should have asked for it, but then something about her acting so distant made voicing his desires seem inappropriate. Usually he had no qualms about making erotic suggestions or pressing their strap-on in her hand and getting on all fours like a proud manwhore. Now, he felt like an arsehole when he even considered it...and not in the way he intended. 

Maybe she would take a hint if she walked in while he was face down, arse-up, lubed, and spread. Truth be told, he was about lonely enough to make an attempt and maybe even roll his hips at her in whimpering encouragement. But it wasn't just that damnit...he missed being inside her. Terribly, painfully wanted to be where he belonged.

He hated how much it was getting to him…and he wasn't afraid to stew in it while drinking. Not wanting to pressure his lover, he only pitched back his pints with a smile around her. When alone at Moxxxi's, his expression was every bit as sour and deadly as he felt. It went without saying that folks kept their distance. 

These days, he wasn't so much affected by sexual frustration these days as he was agitated by feeling helpless in giving his partner assistance. Not only did he wish he was far better at broaching sensitive subjects and mindfully wringing information out of Amara, he struggled to accept there were some problems beyond his expertise at fixing. Maybe he did need to corner Tannis and discuss it with her as he had already extensively considered. As much as he wanted to respect Amara's privacy, it felt so wrong to let her suffer in silence.

For now, he did what he could to ensure her comfort and mind his own business. Not only did he bite his tongue, but he kept his touches chaste and patient. 

He found himself spending many sleepless nights enamored with the many candle flames flickering around her room or watching the shadows dance across Amara's smooth cocoa features. Without the physical comfort of release, he was often left grappling with insomnia and forced to reflect on his partner's shift in behavior.

He had been a good operative, damnit. He really couldn't recall making a misstep. Besides, Amara never refrained from calling him out on his bullshit...of which there hadn't been any recently. Everything had been going swimmingly, which led him to consider if that was the problem. Was the siren getting bored of him? Was their relationship too mundane? Did they not participate in enough bloodshed and chaos together? That didn't seem to be the case but then he could only pretend to understand women.

Whatever it was, it gnawed at him. More often than not, he slipped out of their shared bed undetected, got dressed, and snuck his way to Moxxxi's. That was a habit he had tried to break but with relief not forthcoming, he felt he had no choice but to perch at the bar. That notoriously sexy barkeep was always ready for him, welcoming his haggard face with a concerned gaze.

He didn't even have to say anything. The first time his eyes had met Moxxi's, a current of mutual understanding flashed between them. That was the only reassurance he needed to know he hadn't been imagining things...not that that was even in the realm of possibility. Not only was Moxxi impossibly perceptive, but she had the advantage of being a woman and therefore fluent in their strange estrogen ways. 

Always willing to offer her ear or shoulder - among more tantalizing parts - Moxxi also allowed him his silence. Knowing him as she did, she most often let him initiate conversation, provided he felt like it. At that hour, he often didn't...so their interactions began and ended with her signature coo of "Here you go, sugar."

"'Mara's been actin' funny, hasn't she? It's not jus' me imaginin' things?" he rasped after one particularly scorching shot of liquor. Having set down the empty glass and scooching it to Moxxi for another, he frowned at her gentle nodding. "Ye know anything?"

"I have my suspicions," came her velvet voice, teasing while simultaneously making him scowl. "Maybe talking to her would give you answers, hmm?" she urged, making him prefer her other brand of suggestions.

Grunting, he accepted the refilled shot and pitched it back without hesitation, subjecting himself once more to that intense burn. Only after clearing his throat did he mutter beneath his astringent breath, "I already tried that."

Watching him out of the corner of her smoked-out gaze, Moxxi navigated the shelves of abundance of alcohol available to her. She allowed him to have some silent moments of reflection, though whether or not he took advantage of it remained ambiguous to her. In the meantime, she sashayed over to mix another boozy concoction for the other late-night patron occupying the far end of the bar.

By the time she aligned herself before the surviving Flynt and tapped her lacquered nails along her polished work surface, she noted how heavily he leaned one prominent cheekbone atop his fist. He paid no attention to the bunching of her cleavage as she crossed her arms in expectation and waited for him to register her return.

It took a generous moment - one she wished he had spent admiring her overflowing bust. Shame she was too sly to admit to him how she missed their sordid flirtations. She couldn't let him know that, though, could she? Despite how forward she loved being.

Somehow, she never had the opportunity to lewdly reacquaint with him since he had first boarded Sanctuary. What an unfair shame that was, leaving her with secret recollections of a certain casino…Then again, shortly after meeting that band of vault hunters, she had decided it had only been a matter of time until all of Amara's flexing commanded the operative to follow her like an obedient puppy. That it had taken more than a year had given the vixen pause but the two vault hunters hadn't disappointed her expectations.

For a lover of Moxxi's prestige, there had been no mistaking the scent of sex that Zane had begun bringing to the bar with him. Even before the two vault hunters had come clean with their affair, she had seen the signs of it loud and clear. Not only was his proud swagger more pronounced and his facial hair smelled of pussy, but she had seen the siren appear positively radiant with sexual satisfaction. The Partalian couldn't fool her with her stern composure.  

After a year of having Zane routinely wind down his evenings in her establishment, his altered behavior was a dead giveaway. He had become increasingly, and curiously, absent from the stool he favored and that only meant one thing: he was off doing something - or someone - else. 

And to think she had initially doubted Flynt's team playing abilities. During their previous encounters, he had struck her as a lone wolf despite his extroverted tendencies. Since joining the Crimson Raiders, he had made a habit of kicking back with his fellow vault hunters and providing the foursome's comical relief. It wasn't an unusual sight to see him lounging in a booth with his boyos and enjoying a beer with one arm casually thrown behind their shoulders. And he was always ready to deploy his shield around them, preventatively or protectively, often at his own expense. 

Needless to say, that was better that than having Zane act like his brothers. Moxxi didn't doubt finding his place in their strangely compatible team made all the difference and eased his acceptance of Sanctuary. Having an alluring and positively deadly siren aboard certainly stoked his intrigue.

She expected nothing less the more and more she saw the two wandering the vessel together...nor did she blink when Amara began appearing under the weather. She had carried four children of her own, after all, and knew the look of a woman trying to swallow back her morning sickness. Witnessing the Partalian exit the infirmary at a rapidly brisk pace, and strikingly pale in the face, had confirmed everything. It didn't surprise her in the slightest how Zane was evidently oblivious...or that Amara, between his appetite and their adventurous types being inherent risk takers, would end up pregnant. 

Smiling to herself, Moxxi belatedly realized she had finally drawn Zane's attention. That remaining eye of his was skeptical, and everything about the way it narrowed convinced her his metal implant was scanning her. 

"Clearly ye know somethin's up," he grunted gruffly, figuring it was futile to demand answers from the all-knowing barkeep. "Jus' tell me one thing: how fecked am I?"

Half-lidding her kohled eyes at him, Moxxi's plush lips adopted a tantalizingly playful smirk. "That's up to you, sugar," she said, revealing far less than her attire did.

Allowing his head to drop to the bar with a thud, Zane didn't hold back his exaggerated groan. "That's so helpful!"

Popping up from his faceplanted position, the operative drew the corners of his mouth back and made a pained face at the empty glass in front of him. "I didn't say anything too naughty to ye, did I? Y'know, when I was fluthered."

"No, sugar, you didn't," she assured with a pout. 

At that, Zane gave a relieved sigh and lightly slapped the bar before curling his knuckles beneath his bearded chin. Propping himself up on it and pondering, he silently cursed his predicament.

He didn't know much about his girlfriend's mood these days, but what he did was that he was getting way too much head to be in trouble. In fact, he came between Amara's sucking lips or across her tits more than he did in her snatch nowadays, not that he would be one to complain. After all, she looked downright gorgeous with his cock in her face.

And that wasn't all. By his count, it had been at least a month since he'd had full access to her breasts and damn, did he miss them. He loved when the twins came out to play. Lovemaking just wasn't right without lavishing them in attention until Amara writhed and grinded her hips into him. The last time he had swirled his tongue around a nipple, she had arched her back in what he wrongfully assumed had been a plea for more. Instead, when he sealed his lips around it, she had shoved him away and off to the side so suddenly, he had blinked at his abrupt displacement.

Just because he missed fondling and cherishing her breasts didn't mean he squalled like an infant forced to wean too early...but he would be lying if he said the urge hadn't crossed his mind. While he certainly didn't mind watching them jostle seductively in sexy lingerie, he still liked to pop them free and watch them bounce to the rhythm of his thrusts, he wasn't getting to do any of that. Instead, she had her girls on lockdown within her many sports bras, preventing him from even seeing them. Aside from her hair, there wasn't anything else that really jiggled on his fit lover...

Thinking back on everything, life was suddenly feeling a bit darker. How was it possible to feel secure in a relationship while simultaneously rejected, if only somewhat? Thinking back to his chronic pains, he could relate with not wanting contact while hurting. Surely Amara feeling like some bloated blood balloon couldn't be comfortable. He wondered if Tannis had a fix for it...like a pill or something that would burst the dam and give his lover some much needed relief. Hell, maybe he would have had to deal with this sort of thing already if he had ever stuck around with any other woman. Clearly, that had not been the case. 

Speaking of their onboard medical "professional", Tannish made her frowning entrance at the party, if only to shrink into a corner and look like she was waiting to accost someone in particular. Amara followed shortly while wearing a distressingly tired expression. Ava wasn't far behind her, appearing to chatter incessantly before slowing to a considerate calm beside her.

Giving Amara's upper arm a supportive squeeze, the teenager smiled at the small nod the Partalian gave her and then she went on her way. Her gray hood and chunky headphones blended in with the bustle of bodies as she merged into the teenage crowd she frequented these days.

Lingering on Ava, his eye crinkled warmly as he watched her exchange a secret handshake with one of the lasses in the meager group. After having so much responsibility dropped atop her shoulder and struggling to behave responsibly, it was nice to see her relaxing. Aspiring vault hunter she was, he was still glad to see her finding her place among kids her age.

Assured that Ava was upbeat as always, his attention naturally drifted toward the other woman in his life - the one he could pick out of any gathering, no matter the size. Ordinarily, Amara was one to work any crowd as charismatically as she could her fans. Being popular and surrounded by an admiring audience was her comfort zone - one she often maneuvered with flexing arms and a wicked glint to her stunning violet gaze. 

Just seeing her stalling by the stairs caused a warmth to spread in his belly. So far, he hadn't consumed that much ale, but he had been there for a while awaiting his lover's arrival. In spending all that time debating if he should have dragged her away from her siren studies, he had drained more pints than he realized.

Either way, in watching Amara as he was, he completely missed the attention Ava was now paying him. Unaware of that distantly watchful siren, he tore his gaze away from Amara before she could catch him staring. 

He knew he would find his way to her before long. He always does. 

…

After a few more mingling conversations, Zane decides he's buzzed. The only way for him to feel better is to finally greet his partner and spend the rest of that night with her. Besides, it wasn't like he was listening to Moze much anyway.

"Go on, old man," the gunner seemed to say suddenly, his mind finally registering his short teammate. "Stop eyefucking her and go get it."

Granted, that wasn't exactly what he had been doing, but that didn't stop him from shooting Moze his cocky, signature smirk. "Gladly," was all he could say, followed by a more sobering thought.

I wish.

Even through the haze of alcohol, the operative sees Amara as clear as day. She's standing there, having wandered over to the table of drinks Moxxi had arranged, appearing pensive as she does nothing in particular other than fidget with a bottle of water. Still, for as misplaced as she's made herself seem, there's a glow about her that seems to emanate from the inside out...though her siren markings remain tame. Still, a halo of luminescence from the party lights strung behind her make her appear even more ethereal than the azure spiralling along her skin. 

Admiring her from afar, Zane smiled against the rim of his bottle before finishing his last swig of ale. Amara truly was a goddess among men, and seeing the beautiful shape of her filled him with a rush of longing. There's also something mingling with it; that giddy sense of energy he hadn't experienced for decades. With it, he felt the overwhelming urge to intertwine his fingers with hers...to feel her body pressed against his...to simply touch and share that sense of belonging with her. Simply thinking of it has him moving to unite with her, his entirety guided by devotion. 

With the taste of anticipation on his tongue, he eases up behind her, taking advantage of the distracted way she's staring into the distance. Silently and smoothly despite how much he had drank, he pressed into her space and watches her bare skin prickle as she shivers at his sudden proximity. Body heat bleeds between them like something molten and palpable, inviting him to further sink into its depths. The sensors of his glove aglow, he reaches to span his fingers along the exposed small of her back and marvels, as he always does, at the energy resonating through her skin.

Mentally, she must have been elsewhere - as far away as a distant planet, perhaps. Instead of sensing his approach as she usually did, her breath hitched at his touch. It took a moment, and the gentle caress of his thumb along the curve of her soon, for the tension in her shoulders to melt away. The wordless rumble that rose from his chest helped her relax with recognition.

Captivating purple greet him as she gives him a sidelong glance, her bifurcated eyebrow arching. Her smile, faint as it is, teases his senses. Combined with her low voice, both make his belly stir with pleasant warmth not unlike the flush of booze he feels across his cheeks.

"Have too much to drink, old man?" she asks, a hint of her teeth showing as he leaned his head down to her and gave her a sottishly smitten smile. 

Allowing him to press further into her space, she tilted her face up to him and regarded him with more of her confident composure. In the darkness, the luminescence within the small constellation embellishing her cheekbones drew his attention, same as the glitter of Eridium tickling her collarbone.

It certainly wasn't the first time a belly full of beer made him amorous and it wouldn't be the last. Despite her recent peculiarities, Amara didn't seem too displeased as he pressed his nose to her right temple and nuzzled softly, inhaling her scent while basking in that tender closeness. 

"What is it?" she asked quietly. Speaking so low, the rich qualities of her voice made a thrill run up his spine and guide his fingers toward her.

Craving contact, he purposefully reached around the hand holding her drink and guided the bottle down to the table beside her. With that, he twined his digits intimately with hers  and lifted one corner of his mustache as he mumbled, "C'mere."

It's only with a slight fumble that he walks her back to one of the emptier corners of the cargo bay, settling beneath another string of pyramidal lanterns that decorated the otherwise dark space. It's a poor excuse for a private little paradise, yet aboard Sanctuary, he'll take what he can get. 

Dubiously, Amara eyed him but still yielded so easily to his touches. There's a hint of indulgence on her face as he takes both of her hands and pulls her flush to him. Despite her scarred brows raising in surprise, she made no effort to retract from his touch. Quite the opposite, she leans into his chest ever-so-slightly and strokes her fingers over the perpetually separated zipper of his jacket. 

"What is it, old man?" she hums, toying along the fluorescent lining. Despite permanent seriousness she had to her, there was a hint of laughter in her voice. "Can't handle your liquor anymore?"

As if. Leaning down to nose at the part in her aromatic hair, he snorted wryly before sobering somewhat. "Dance with me," he murmured, humor absent from his usual gruffness despite her ridiculous suggestion. Following that, he gazed down at her with that same fond expression he wore just for her and cupped her hand sweetly in his. At the same time, he settled his arm around the narrow down of her waist. 

Yet again, it went without saying that he was a sap for her. He felt the breath leave his lungs as his lover melted readily into his embrace. With a heartfelt sigh, he held her closer, cradling her through a few swaying steps like she truly was something precious. They're hardly moving at all, really, and that's just fine by him so long as she keeps her head tucked into the crook of his neck. 

Her contented sigh is music to his ears and just as beautiful as the scent of warm jasmine in her hair. Never would it have crossed his mind to resist nuzzling into her hair like a bashful child, and so he did, closing his eye while more deeply drinking her in.

That moment was so saccharine for being so public and yet they had nothing to hide. Not anymore. Besides, he liked to think Amara benefited from it as much as he did, as he silently yearned for that reconnection. As time goes on, he hears the playing music less and less despite the loud acoustics of the metal bay, the two of them instead moving to a rhythm of their own. All he knows is the feel of her - the press of her peaceful visage, the pulse in her slender wrist, the silk of her tresses against his lips - and the way she follows his little steps without so much as a word whispered between them. It takes him a moment to realize he's humming his own smooth melody while at the same time, Amara sighs lightly as his beard tickles her ear.

Sadly, their dance was over all too soon, but the memory would remain. He couldn't remember to feel disappointed as Amara squeezed his hand in permission and led him toward the staircase separating the cargo bay from the second story. He giddily followed one step behind, his footfalls smoothly metallic compared to the rubber of the siren's heavy boots. 

So gonna get laid, he thought happily, hoping he was right. He didn't say it aloud as not to jinx his chances when ordinarily, he might have expressed his singsong anticipation. 

Somehow, despite the throng of partiers they left behind them, he managed to notice Ava's watchful eyes following them. By now, he figured she would have gotten past the nature of the personal relationship he and Amara shared.