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She kisses me.

I don't understand why, I can't. My brother killed her lover. But that just doesn't matter now, now that our partners are gone and we're tetherless from our lives. 

I squeeze her lean waist, powerful muscle beneath, a soft layer of fat to cover it. She's too strong, too tall, she's not— she's not Elane.

I squeeze her harder, because I'm so fucking tired of searching for something that I'll never find again. She makes noises of pain against my lips, gasping, panting, but not separating. Her hands drag down my back, almost frantically. I think I taste her tears dripping between our connected mouths.

But this isn't her. The alchohol, the grief, the death—she's not in her right mind, and neither am I. I'm not Shade.

And she's not Elane.

I shove her, and she stumbles backwards onto her bed. I watch her disorientation with a sick feeling in my gut, the way she trembles and cries. I hate it.

So I climb above her, taking her face in my hands. I have the urge to retaliate, for what I don't know. Kissing me? I remember the way her face fell after Tolly speared that teleporter, and the venom drains from me.

I stroke her face gently. Her eyes are swollen, face flushed and hot. I've never seen her so... exposed. She's gasping now, completely losing it, and I hush her gently the way I did for Elane—

This is wrong.

When Farley archs her back, pressing her hips to mine, I don't push them down, but continue ministrations I can only think of as comforting: soft touches, a makeshift hug, sweet words without meaning while my mind reels from guilt and nausea and rage. The late night alchohol catches up to her quickly, and she relaxes into the bed.

I watch her. She's vulnerable here; not so tall, so intimidating when she curls into bedsheets, breathing calmer now from the caress of deep sleep.

With the last of my willpower, I remove our boots and tug the covers over us, facing away from the woman whose lover is dead because my family.

The thin bed creaks wildly, but I don't open my eyes. It's been a while since I slept so well. Warm sun coats my back, and then doesn't.

Elane must've woken and closed the blinds.

No, she couldn't have.

I tense, containing a scream. How could I forget?

I open my eyes, mentally preparing for more patrols, more work, more disobediant soldiers, more—

Metal, metal presses to my head. In an open, circular shape. Fuck.

I feel the bullets rest in the mag, the trigger twitch. I could just seize the bullets, like I've done so often, and send the metal into the intruders face. But how did they get to me? If they got to me, could they have gotten to Tolly?

Our place isn't expensive, but we have security devices this isn't my place.

The gun flies in my direction to the floor, mag sliding out, and I roll into a sitting position, pinning my assailant to the bed by her wrists. She gasps and writhes, but I control the tactical zippers and buckles on her pants, using them to hold her legs somewhat still. I get a look at her face.

Farley.

I release the tight grip of my hands, keep them around her arms just in case. How did she get—how did we get here?

She looks at me, disgruntled, hair in every direction and clothes wrinkled. Like she just woke up. Her initial surprise changes to confusion in a second. This state seems oddly familiar...

Oh.

I see her crying, shaking, touching me, vying for the comfort of another person; of me.

She seems to gain some sense too, and looks at me with this exasperation, this fear and anger and confusion.

"What the fuck did you do?"

The general's voice is clear and angry, but her face isn't. The obnoxious amount of alchohol from last night seems to have taken a toll.

I gape a bit before finding words. Has she no idea? "Walked you home, to bed, while you were shit face drunk." I say it with annoyance, like its all that happened. Like I don't remember the taste of whiskey from her tongue, the way it slid in my mouth—

She doesn't believe me.

I purse my lips. "We drank and I brought you here before you passed out."

She still looks accusatory. Then the dam of late night memories fails.

Her eyes widen. She yells, "You, we kissed. You fucking kissed me! What are you do—" she nearly shoves me off the bed.

I cut her off. "You kissed me! I stopped us when you were all too excited to carry on, so don't try to blame this shit on me. I helped you!"

Her face flushes, similar to last night, but now with anger.

"You think I need your help? You've helped me plenty, Evangeline." She slaps away my hands, standing and running her fingers through her hair.

That sobers my anger a little. 

I sit silent on the bed, while she paces. I should just leave, forget this, because it shouldn't have happened. This isn't why I brought her home.

But I remain where I am. 

I can't get it out of my mind. I've seen Elane and Tolly at their worst moments, seen them crumble before me while I was the only one who could help. And they returned the favor, happily, everytime I needed it. Farley was at a point last night, and I saw it, felt it. Im afraid for her.

She's capable on her own.

If she was she wouldn't have kissed you.

She's just not... right now. 

Fighting responsibilities, I stand up, grabbing my boots. Tolly must be worried.

She says nothing, just watches me. I wonder what she thinks. How she feels.

I trust she'll keep this a secret, as it wouldn't do good for her to tell anyone... to tell whoever she's got left.

Why me? Of everyone she could've showed this, it was me.

It was probably just a wrong place wrong time kind of thing. She needed someone who understood her grief, for just a while. But she continues to look at me, and I stop lacing my boots.

I can't leave her here.

I can't. She knows how I feel just as I know her. We're similar, in a single traumatic aspect. And its enough.

I remove the boots. Confusion, again, passes over her in a twitch of her cheek. Our eyes meet.

Hers are a pale blue, full of nothing and everything. I walk to her 'til we stand eye to eye, her head tilting downward to meet mine directly.

Tentatively, my palm grazes her cheek. She doesn't move. So I do.

This time, I kiss first, and start slow and soft, testing if she's willing or not. I feel her hesitate, the lack of reciprocation a slight sting in my heart, but what have I to lose? I keep kissing her.

Slowly, so slowly, she seems to wake up. A graze of hand on my collarbones, tiny bite here, hips rocking, a boat on my sea.

And the storm is beginning to rage.

Assured, I ramp up the pace. A leg forces its way between hers, knee rubbing up against her crotch. She moans in a high pitch, shaking while I suck hickeys into her smooth red neck. 

Red.

Elane isn't red.

Elane is gone. This isn't right.

Is it?

Elane always had more morals than me, cared more for others. Would Elane want me to do this?

Or is this just me?

She starts to ride my thigh, groaning and sliding her hands under my shirt. She's so easily aroused it drives me insane.

I help her take off my shirt, but when she reachs for my bra, I shove her hands away. I unclip hers quickly, experienced with having done it for another woman so many times...

In a daze, I palm the soft flesh, watching her nipples harden without the warmth of a shirt that lays on the floor. She buries her face in my neck and licks.

Her hot wet tongue coats my neck in spit, and I pinch her nipples. She whines and bounces on my leg, bucking and grinding. I think I hear breathy whispers against me.

"Eve." A loud groan. "Eve..."

Elane's delicate hands run up and down my sides, while she pins me to a wall, sharing her tongue with mine. She whispers her desire in my ear.

"Eve, Eve..."

I growl, near feral, and push Farley onto her back on the bed, pressing my lips into hers again. She gasps, tense. My fingertips graze the hem of her pants.

My ability unzips them, hand slipping to the pooling wet apex of her sex. She groans pleasurably, but she's had enough of me, and flips us over, straddling my hips.

She insists that I keep my eyes open, keep them on her, as she slips a finger in. I keen, flushing silver when she licks her lips to stop herself from drooling.

My bra finally comes off, Farley gripping me roughly in her hands. It hurts.

But it hurts so good.

"Ahhh... Far-fuck."

I grit my teeth. I have sympathy, I do, but I won't moan anyone's name like this but Elane's. It's a privilege.

Farley apparently doesn't think so, and leans down to whisper in my ear, smirking like that stupid cat.

"It's Diana."

And I thought she had no other name. Her lips tickle my cheek, neck, chest, and—

"Dia..." I curse, every filthy word but that damn name.

She groans around my nipple, licking and sucking in earnest. I hold her by short blonde hair. She detaches for a moment, slotting a leg between mine, as I did to her. Lips graze my ear once again.

"Say it, Evangeline. Say it."

I push her back towards my chest, wrapping my thighs around her waist, but her eyes lock on mine.

This time, its not so much a command, something a little different, breathy.

"Say it, Eve."

Her eyebrows crease, like when she frowns, but also not. She's got the mind of a wolf, the body, but her eyes. They're the eyes of a lamb.

She wants my attention, wants me to care.

The urge to use this against her appears like second nature, but I won't give in to it. Not anymore.

Elane wouldn't want me to.

I cup her cheeks, hold her still for a moment, keeping our eyes locked. 

Then grind my hips to hers.

The reaction is instant. Her mouth opens, but only a squeak escapes, hips rushing to return the motion. When I feel she's getting too fast, I press a hand on her tummy, right below her breasts, and steadily push. She stops reluctantly.

I start grinding again, torturously slow for the both of us. She doesn't increase our pace this time. Slowly, so slowly, I shift on the bed, turning us over again, and lay her beneath me, still grinding. I lean down close to her face. She stares at me, mouth agape, eyes lidded. I moan softly, hardly a whisper.

"Diana."

Her head tilts back, unleashing a loud cry. It transfixes me. I shuck her pants, already halfway off, and pinch her panty hem in my fingers. I snap them, over and over, but don't move inside.

She starts shifting again, tired of my stalling. I gave her what she wanted, yet she can't heed me for more than a second?

I pin her tightly by the throat, not squeezing. I grit the command out.

"Stop. Moving."

She studies me for a moment. Then lays back, muscles tense. I keep my hand where it is, stroking her neck, and soften my eyes a bit. When she finally relaxes, as much as she will, I hump at her, my hand staying where it is.

She grits her teeth, glaring at me. But doesn't move. Its more than enough.

The power trip turns me on all the more, and everytime Diana so much as shifts, I squeeze her neck to put her back in place. But I notice too late.

Im absolutely pissing her off.

She slaps me.

It reverberates through the near empty room. My cheek stings, throbs. I don't get time to process it. Diana yanks my pants down, rolling us, and once again, she's on top. It makes sense that we're treating this like a sparring match.

Or a real fight.

She bucks into me, rythmic and forceful, holding my neck with both hands. The little bed rocks like its gonna break soon. If she keeps this up, it probably will. I don't think she cares very much.

She pants heavily, nearly yelling at me, mocking. "You like that, Evangeline? You think this is sexy?"

I grasp her wrists, holding on while she practically bangs into me, not even touching her pussy to mine. What a fucking barbarian.

She's inexperienced with women, as far as I can tell. But what she's doing now isn't about pleasure. The grip on my neck is only getting tighter.

She gets her face closer to mine, snarling. "Do you like this? 'Cause I do."

My air is only running out now. She doesn't look as aroused as she was, and her eyes.

She's going to kill me.

I begin struggling, but she squeezes tighter, mumbling. There's animosity in her eyes.

"I like this, Evangeline, I like it, I like it."

My time is running out, and she's crossed beyond the boundary of a powerplay. I can't breath.

I knee her in the crotch, protected only by thin, dripping underwear.

She gasps, doubling over on top of me. I scramble from underneath her, clutching my throat and panting, feeling dizzy.

She collapses face first on the bed, biting it. Her hands hover tentatively over her pussy, and I think I hear a cry of agony into the sheets. Fuck. It probably hurts a lot more when you're aroused. 

You had no choice. Still, guilt plagues me, unfairly.

She started it.

But she didn't.

Not truly.

Hesitantly, I place a hand on her naked, scarred back, and rub in circles. She's in too much pain to stop me, just quivers. The bedsheet dampens where her face is.

I wrap my arms around her torso, under her breasts, and turn us sideways into a spooning positions. She struggles, but I whisper honest apologies, tell her I won't hurt her again. Because its true.

Minutes pass. She stops shaking, just breathes evenly, in and out. I trace my fingers around her stomach, kiss her neck. She doesn't stop me.

A hand grabs mine, and pulls it down, into her panties. She says three words, voice cracking.

"Inside, Eve. Please."

I obey. My finger slips in easily, from all her natural lube, and she tenses. I hope I sound encouraging.

"Relax, Diana. Its alright. I've got you."

She groans, digging her nails into my forearm while I slip inside. She's tense, and but that'll only make it hurt.

"It's okay, Elane. I've got you."

It takes a while, but her walls unclench, her even breath faltering in time to my accelerating thrusts. One more finger, another. I keep the same pace for while, before going faster, and repeat until she can't lay still. She doesn't moan my name this time. She screams her own truth.

"Fuck, fuck I-I hate you, Evangeline I hate you." I can hear her crying in the wobble of her voice.

"I hate you so much."

I curl my fingers, her ass arching against my hips, riding me desperately. I can't help it, and grind on her, her cries and cum and body so good, so so good. 

"Fuck, Eve!"

She's still strangling me, still killing me.

"Diana, Diana..."

I mumble the mantra that is this woman, this woman whose just cum on my fingers, who I'm pushing onto her stomach. I get on her back, pulling down both our underwear, touching my wet pussy to hers.

I grind and grind, her juices coating me, going inside of me. I cum on her.

.

.

.

.

.

Five minutes pass, ten. I roll off her.

I'm slow to get up, get dressed. She doesn't move.

I want to stay.

I want to stay here and hold her close, connect our naked bodies in a cuddle, comfort her. Let her comfort me.

The second time today, I hesitate when I get to my boots. She sits up, locks eyes with me.

And I stay.