Page 32 of Origin (Deridia #13)

She was the one to lead him toward the door.

Didn’t want privacy, which was more than fine with him.

Perhaps it was going to just be the gift of her reaction to it, but he’d take even that. He could take over the seducing if she turned and push him out after he earned one of her smiles for having built it at all.

Another window. For ventilation more than appearances. High up, but enough to catch the light.

The larger washrooms made in miniature.

But theirs.

She’d made them take off their boots at the front door. Lined them up together, because they didn’t need to be locked away in the trunk.

His and hers, she said, beaming all the while.

They always needed to be off, she declared, giving him a stern look while she did it. Because this was inside, and that was outside, and they were civilised now. He might not remember that’s how things were done before, but she did. And it had hurt her how many nights she’d slept with her boots on, too afraid she’d need to run.

As if he was going to argue with that.

But he’d shaken his head at her, all the same. Fond and warm all over to have her boss him about.

Then she’d held out her hand and waited for him to take it before she stepped further into the room. Back to the washroom.

Where she peeked inside first, then stepped inside.

Too simple, maybe. But it was all he could offer. He wished he could remember what they looked like back home. If they were grand. Or maybe this was exactly what she was used to. Not over-large—it spanned the width of the main apartment. Plenty of room for the two of them to walk about, assuming they would be here together for ablutions.

Perhaps she’d grow shy later on. Insist on privacy because they really couldn’t spend all day together. Not every day.

Or maybe this was what couples did. Washed and lived, elbow to elbow, and called each other tiresome and in the way, then kissed and said sorry a moment later.

She looked her fill. Of colours she hadn’t chosen, at finishes that probably were not what she might have liked.

But she turned to him, misty-eyed and full of warmth, and came to him. Not for the kiss he’d expected, but to wrap her arms about him and hug him close. “It’s beautiful,” she said so certainly, he could not doubt her sincerity. “It’s ours,” she murmured, and there was a definite hitch in her voice, and he rubbed her back, her arm, because he understood.

She hadn’t wanted to hope too much. Grow too attached. Indulged him, encouraged him, but kept herself slightly apart so she wouldn’t risk a heartbreak if it was all taken away from her.

“Ours,” he agreed.

She shivered. Sighed. Wiped at her face and shooed him from the room for a moment. Which he allowed, because she asked him to get fresh clothes for them both, and her eyes darted toward the facilities and he could certainly afford her privacy for that particular need.

Fresh clothes, she said. To change into after they wash.

He took off his socks. His shirt. Put it in the unlocked trunk. Removed the key from about his elbow. Tucked it inside. It would feel strange to be without it. Would they still lock up their belongings? Keep them all carefully separate. Or would they mingle? One of her socks paired with his by accident. How did his shirt get in with hers? And why was she wearing it?

He smiled.

Took the rest off.

The windows were shuttered. It was almost too dark in the room. Would have been, save that he’d pilfered a solitary lamp. Let it glow, warming the space. Let it transform from something sterile to something inviting.

Pulled back the bedclothes. Not because he was full of expectation. But he could admit to a few hopes.

Hana opened the door. He could hear the shower running. He’d had little to do with its functions. He’d been declared hopeless and more a hindrance than a help, but he’d watched all the same. Wanting to see how it worked. Improve in the future.

“You coming?” she asked. Not worried. Not nervous. Just letting him know he was welcome.

“Bennik broke the timer,” Ellion told her. “On the supply lines. Just an accident, of course. He really should come and fix them.” Hana hummed. Stepped under the hot water that would not shut off in six minutes. They could take their time.

He loved the way the water looked as it washed over her. Or maybe he liked how her breasts looked, her thighs, when water streamed over golden skin. He liked the way her hands moved over her body, realising too soon that he hadn’t joined her. Was just standing. Watching.

“You aren’t getting in?” the first hint of uncertainty, and that’s the last thing he wanted from her. For her.

“Won’t we fight over the water?”

“No,” she promised him. “Since you’ll let me win, and then you’ll be cold.” She frowned a little, looking down at her soapy hands.

He got in the shower, because better to be cold than to let her look doubtful. She abandoned her own wash in favour of smoothing soap over this back. Down to his waist. Even to his backside, which was rather a surprise. It should have shamed him how quickly he reacted. He should be stoic and be able to let her touch, to wash, to lick at his skin—that’s what it was, wasn’t it? The feel of her tongue following a rivulet of water.

He was on fire.

Wanted her right there. To turn her about and press into her. To plunge and delve and, yes, to wash her afterwards. When he could think again.

She gripped him from behind. Which wasn’t what he expected, so it drew a sharp inhalation from his chest. “It won’t be as fun as you think it’ll be,” Hana warned. A languid stroke. “Even if we have all the hot water in the world.”

He doubted that. Doubted that very much.

But he couldn’t doubt her.

She finished with him in a shamefully scant amount of time. A hitch of breath and a few tugs, warm and wet, and he was lost. She didn’t seem to mind. Just kissed his shoulder. Found more soap. Washed his tender parts and whispered that she loved him, and he had to do more. Do something for her. Because this was feeling terribly one-sided. He wrapped himself around her. Needing to feel her close. His front to her back. Let himself trail a hand from her breast down to her folds. Curve inward. Watch her breath hitch. He could see what she meant. The water slicked away most of her lubrication as soon as it could make itself known. But if he delved deep enough, smoothed the way, over and over...

Felt her shiver, felt her tighten, felt her bite back a cry...

“It’s all right,” he promised her. “We’re alone. No one to hear us.”

Which was finally, finally true.

She groaned. Pushed her head back against him as his fingers curled and there was soap clinging to one nipple, and it had no right to look so tantalising.

She jerked. Clung.

Then turned, her arms coming about his neck and pulling him down so he might kiss her. No, so she could kiss him. Full of intention, full of gratitude, and yes, the awareness she wasn’t quite finished with him.

She was the one to turn off the shower. To reach for towels and make an attempt so he might do her, but he made the mistake of trying to rub some of the water from the ends of her hair, and she pulled back so quickly he was afraid she would slip.

“You can’t do that!” she insisted. “I’ll have a timin’s nest for days.”

He held up his hands to placate her. “Show me what you would do.” He expected her refusal. To insist she dress first. But she took the cloth and didn’t rub at all. Just let the water fall where it wanted, squeezing the ends ever so lightly.

That would take forever.

He knew he hadn’t the patience for it, and he was grateful his own hair could be scrubbed about with a cloth and never seemed the worse for it.

But he let her work and tried to commit the motion to memory. While he dried himself. Then took the towel from her and did not trespass near her hair again, focusing on the rest of her.

He liked to follow little trails. From start to their end. In between her fingers. Around each leg. The back of her neck.

Yes, even between her legs.

Until she grabbed it from him and hooked onto the wall beside his. “I want our bed.”

He kissed her. Just once. “Yes, boss.”

Which earned him a swat, but he didn’t mind. Not when she was trying to be stern, but failing miserably.

She paused, taking in the warm light. The turned down blankets.

She took a breath, and if it hitched, if it faltered, she was turning to him too quickly for him to worry. “It’s perfect,” she admitted. “All of it.”

He took a step nearer. Picked up one of her damp curls and twisted it about his finger. She didn’t seem to mind that. He simply had to be careful with towels. “So are you.”

She snorted. Shook her head. “You don’t need to flatter me,” she insisted, twisting about to kiss him all too briefly before she climbed into the bed. Sat in the middle for a moment, knees pulled up toward her chest while she seemed to decide something.

Which side was hers, he realised bemusedly. The one nearest the table and the light. Which probably meant she would have to be the one to get up and turn it down when they were ready, so perhaps they needed something closer. Not that he would mind watching her bare backside slip out of the covers, but it was getting colder and soon the pleasure of it would be replaced by too much concern, and he’d really rather watch her shiver for other reasons entirely.

He climbed in beside her. There was room to spare, which was an entirely new experience. Why then did he still feel the need to go toward the middle? To pull her into his arms. To watch her curl into him. To breathe that little sigh when her head rested just so. When his hands felt nothing but soft skin—too cold to the touch, the warmth of the shower fading.

He pulled the blanket over her. Watched a smile curl about her lips at the gesture.

They were supposed to be kissing. Finishing what had begun in their shared shower. But this was lovely, too. Just... being. No need to hurry. To worry about being seen. To struggle back into clothes too quickly.

One of her legs nestled over his, her arm about his waist. Hugging him to her. As if they weren’t close enough already.

“We need to talk about Drummond,” she murmured, smoothing her lips against his chest.

His fingers had absently played with her curls, but he stilled. “Now?”

Another kiss. Not apologetic, not quite, but a balm given as she nodded. “You think they did that to him?”

Ellion swallowed. There was nothing that would cool his blood more than this subject, and surely she knew that. Which was why her hand was following where her lips had been. Rubbing. Soothing. “Which means you think they did that to you, too?”

His throat was tight. He felt watched and hunted, and that was ridiculous because he was safe. Safe with her. “Yes.”

She didn’t still. Kept kissing and rubbing, but she did cant her head in his direction, catching his eye. “Would you think me a horrible person if I admit I’m glad about Drummond?” She closed her eyes before he could answer. “I’m angry on your behalf. I know it’s wrong. Nothing in the literature suggested we were consenting to anything of the sort, which makes it some sort of crime, I’m sure. Or if not a crime, one that should be.” She huffed out a breath, remembered her aim, and placed a kiss at the base of his throat. “It does,” she decided. “Make me horrible.”

The realisation came swiftly. Too sharp in his chest, cutting through the trilling panic that fluttered through his every muscle.

“Drummond was the one that hurt you.”

Her lips stilled. She stilled.

“I didn’t say that.”

“All right, if not him, then his men. On his orders.”

She wouldn’t look at him.

“Hana,” he urged, settling his hand behind her head, coaxing her to look at him. “And you still took him around the place. Assigned him a bed. You’ll assign him a job and it won’t be in the tunnels, even though you could put him there.”

She shrugged her shoulders. “He doesn’t know what he did. I will not punish him.” She swallowed, her confession so quiet he almost didn’t catch it at all. “Even if I want to.”

She was still trying to seduce him. To distract him from the depth of their conversation with little touches. Small affections that would ordinarily have flared to something far more.

But not now.

Not like this. She needed comfort, not to shove it all away so they might christen their new bed as quickly as possible.

He pulled her to him. Tucked her head beneath his chin and let cry for a little while if she needed. “You are so far from horrible it is laughable,” Ellion declared. “It does put in perspective just how bad I must have been, to have earned that treatment from the start.” He wasn’t looking for pity or reassurance. Just perspective. She was innocent. Of the crime they charged her with, of the further offence of cooperating with the wardens and their intentions. “Or...”

He took a breath. Because she liked to think the best of things. Of him.

“Maybe I’m one of them.” Hana turned her head, blinking up at him. “Maybe they needed someone on the ground. To help get things going because it... wasn’t. And I was a terrible liar, and they needed to test out their... modifications, anyway. So I volunteered, because I believed in the work.” His stomach clenched just to think of it.

She nuzzled nearer. “Maybe,” she whispered.

Would that have been a better prospect or worse? A willing part in an experiment he understood, not one fumbling through, trying to make the best of it.

“Or,” Ellion continued. “We can be horrible. Together. We can sneak food into our room and eat by lamplight.” He let his lips hover near her ear. “Love in our own room. In our own bed. Like civilised folks.”

She snorted out a laugh and shook her head. “Horrible,” she agreed.

Which was better. Better still when he eased a hand to her shoulder. Squeezed it gently. Felt the tension there, the tightening, then the delicious release as she relaxed into him. “You think they’re dangerous,” Hana insisted, prying into his mind. His private thoughts. The assessment he made and tucked away for his own musings. Over and over.

“Yes,” Ellion agreed.

Moved his hand from his shoulder to the curve of her neck. Rubbed his thumb where she was the tightest. Heard her sigh and wriggle when a knot loosened.

She was quiet for a while. Took in what he’s said. All he hadn’t. “We’ll have to be careful, then,” she tried again.

“Yes,” he agreed, placing a kiss to the top of her head.

“Only...”

She grew hesitant. Tried to distract him by placing a kiss to his throat, but he wanted to hear her thoughts. He nudged her gently. Let his hand splay across her middle and rub at her through the bedding. “You did something big.” She gestured around them. “And it turned out all right. And I’ve been thinking of... what I might choose. If I was going to make a big change around here.”

“Oh?” Ellion asked, his hand stilling. “Will I need to summon Armen? He’s itching for a project.”

Hana swallowed. Turned sad eyes to up to him. “Shifts. In the tunnels. No overnights. No weeks in the dark, not unless it’s a consequence.” She chewed at her lip and let her head fall back against his chest, unable to look at him any longer. “People mined for centuries before they built the bots to do it. But they’d go in and come out. Eat and wash up. Be people. I think... I think it would do some good.”

His heart warmed as he skimmed his fingers through her hair. “Truly horrible,” he praised, thinking of her ridiculous fear. “This mate of mine.”

“We don’t have mates any longer,” she reminded him. “We lost it.”

He reached for her hand beneath the bedding. Brought it up so he could place a kiss to her knuckles. Then her palm. “Did we?”

Her eyes grew shiny, and she leaned down to kiss him again. Her mouth against his. Lingering. Wanting. “Mine,” she murmured, staking a claim that had been hers for far longer than she knew.

“Yours,” he agreed. Let his hand drift down her the length of her, resting against her backside. “Just as you are mine.”

Her kiss grew hungry. Grew far more insistent.

Maybe they were done talking.

The leg that had been sweetly nestled between his suddenly moved. Crept over him while the rest of her followed. Her knees went beside his hips, and her kisses grew urgent. He was utterly consumed by her. Thoughts dulled. Quieted. Important, perhaps, but not needed tonight. They could change nothing at this moment. That was for later times. When they dared and hoped and earned their victories with careful navigation.

Or they’d settle into retirement. Content with their little corner of happiness. As close to a house by the river as they could make it.

“I thought you would leave me,” she admitted, and he stilled. His hands on her hips, wondering how long she might be patient before she took him.

“Leave you?”

She nodded, the confession a painful one. “I thought you would try. The first time they came. I thought you’d go to every one of them you could, tell them you didn’t belong here. That you couldn’t remember filling out the consent forms, so how could they hold you to them? And maybe they’d agree, and you’d be gone.”

She made to kiss him again, but he held her chin fast. Waited for her to look at him. “I didn’t,” Ellion promised her.

“I know,” Hana breathed, moving over him. A hint of what was to come. The gentle push and pull. “But... still, I thought it.”

“Just the first?” Ellion asked, his breath catching when she trespassed too near to where he most wanted her. “Surely this time you knew I wouldn’t.”

She rolled her shoulders, kissing his palm when he cupped her cheek. “You wouldn’t go to the trouble of building this for us if you were going to leave. But then Drummond and...” She reached back. Resettled herself. Slipping him just inside of her, and he couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but delight in her just for a moment. “I got scared again. If you’d be too angry to stay. It would have been justified, of course. But... I wondered.”

She slipped further down and this wasn’t fair. The ultimate distraction, and he needed to be present, to talk to her, to explain in excruciating detail how absurd she was being.

Leave her?

“Never,” Ellion choked out. Swallowed. Forced himself to focus. Not on the warmth, not on the way she dared to move, to coax and rub and...

Not on that. On her.

“Do you hear me?” he insisted, sitting upright. Holding to him, supporting her so she did not fall backward. “I will never leave you. Not even if they find a way to shove those memories back in my head. Not even if someone falls out of the sky and grants a reprieve.”

She gasped, pulling him close. Holding him close.

He was the one to move. To push and earn another little gasp from her. “Believe me,” he urged. “Please, boss.”

Just to rankle her.

Just to make her open her eyes. Too intense, too unfocused. Because the wanting was mutual, and so were the delights when they came together.

He brought his thumb to her bottom lip. “Say you believe me,” he whispered.

“I believe you,” she managed. In that breathless way that set fire to his blood and made him clutch her tighter. “And I love you,” she added. “And you’re talking too much.”

Which made him smile, made him lean forward to kiss her. Over and over.

Until he was spent and she was languid.

And there was no need to dress. No need to do anything but lie there together.

When exertions had them toss the blankets aside. Only to need them back when the chill of the night took over.

No need to put his boots on when Hana needed a moment to herself in the lav.

When he could lie there and wait for her. To love the click of a door as it opened.

For her to scurry back.

To delve beneath the covers and complain he hadn’t kept her side warm enough, which made him chuckle and give up some of his space so she could nestle in for warmth.

“I love you more,” he declared.

And maybe it was true and maybe it wasn’t, but it didn’t really matter.

Not when she gave his chest a playful swat.

Accused him of spreading falsehoods and she would not stand for it.

Because if anybody loved anybody more, it was her. And he shouldn’t forget it.

“You built me my own washroom after all,” she reminded him.

“You’ll be wanting Bennik, then,” he countered. “He did most of it. Just down the hall.”

She shook with silent laughter, then had the audacity to try to get up, as if she would do just that.

Which let him pull her back. To growl in her ear that she’d made her bargain, and he was it for her.

And she sighed.

As if that’s what she wanted all along.

Nestled sweetly against him.

Just where she belonged.