2goodarms | [Dejah's room]

She pulls his head down to her shoulder, smoothing her hands over the scruff of his head, crooning under her breath. She cannot bear to see him in pain, especially not the cruel blade of memory. It slicest at the most tender flesh.

"Curtis, my beloved, tell me what happened to your arm."

"I can't."

Quiet, wretched agony twists through his words. The shadow shivers.

"I will. Eventually. Please not right now."

She nods, holding tight to him. What more can she ask? This has been an incredible day for the two of them.

She pulls back and takes his hands in hers, draws him back to the bed to sit. And when they're seated, she pulls him in again, kissing his brow and his cheeks. What more can either of them ask for, but time and patience?

He sighs, a little shaky, unutterably relieved. Thank you.

Curtis lets his hands drift back to her arms, close to the spot he left off. He draws them higher to the swirls on her shoulders, follows the lines in to her collarbone, back up and around to the top of her spine. He lets a few pieces of hair run through his fingers; when his left hand finally gets the memo, and he can differentiate between the individual strands, a tiny smile returns to his face.

Her chin rises and she bares her throat to him, eyes closed, trust and longing shimmering through the soft sighs his touch elicits. He touches the nape of her neck and goosebumps rise, running down her shoulders and arms. She keeps touching him, tries to focus on feeling where he's put on new muscle, where his ribs aren't as pronounced as they were a month ago.

He runs his fingers through her hair and she buries her face against his shoulder, her fingertips gently digging into his back. She can't help it; worse, she doesn't want to.

Curtis' breath catches. "Dejah -- "

She can hear, and feel, how badly he wants to keep going. It's all he can think about anymore; he's barely paying attention to the calibration tests. Her tattoos vanish under her clothes, reappear as tracks down her abdomen, and all he wants to do is keep following them lower and lower, finishing what they've started, doing what he promised weeks ago.

He nuzzles against her throat, trailing a line of kisses just beneath her jaw. His hands roam down her back to land on her hips.

She can barely think at all, with the feel of his breath against her pulse, with the warmth of his bare torso under her hands. She tangles her feet with his, pulling them close together from shoulder to knee, her hips pressing tight to his. He is so warm and he smells divine, and it's been so long since she's felt this way. It clouds her mind and a distant part of her whispers that this is dangerous, this is so, so dangerous.

She knows she has to turn back, but she doesn't want to. Just a few minutes more. They deserve that, don't they?

"Curtis..." She breathes his name like a breath of fire.

Curtis, still mouthing kisses along her neck, stifles a groan as she pulls him closer. Christ, this is getting more and more difficult.

"Do you want to keep going?"

She's got to be the one to decide. He's not going to be an ass; anyway, there's enough crap around her position as Jeddak that he doesn't want to hurt her if this made it back to Helium somehow. Nobody gives a shit what some nobody from the Tail gets up to in his spare time.

But damn he really hopes she says yes. Even more than before. He can't stop touching her, can't stop being fascinated by how she feels after months with only one hand.

She grips him so tight, he can feel her hands shake, like a train car going too fast, rattling itself apart. Yes, she wants to keep going. She wants to taste every inch of his skin, wants to drown him in sweet holy fire and then let herself be consumed in the flames.

But somehow the thread of concern in his voice catches her, tangles in her thoughts, slicing them to ribbons. She shifts and catches his face between her palms, gazing into his eyes.

What she wants is a life with him. What she wants is the knowledge that this is not merely playfulness for him, that this is an echo of a deeper bond. It's not a fair question to ask, either of them. Her body wants, but her heart wants more.

"Can we talk about this?" She can barely get the breath to ask, and there's a thread of fear, real fear in her words. That saying no again will make him pull away from her, like he did in the beginning.

And that would hurt too much to even consider.

His Adam's apple bobs. "...Yeah."

The concern strengthens, nearly masking the tiny flicker of disappointment that darts between his words like a minnow. Curtis keeps his hands at her hips to steady both of them -- and to silently reassure her that he'll stay here, no matter what she might say.

"What is it?"

She swallows, blinking rapidly. She's still breathing hard and she has to steal another kiss before she can find the words. A slow, lingering, deep kiss, one that threatens to pull her under again. She breaks it and stays close, so close she can feel his breath on her lips.

"I want you. I want you here in my bed. In my arms. I don't think you even know -- how much I want you."

The kiss drowns out everything, turning his worries to white noise. It disorients him with its intensity; all he can do is return it with full fervor, giving himself to the feel of her mouth on his.

Curtis needs a second to get his bearings once they break apart. He leans against her, manages a nod once she speaks.

(She has to know it's mutual. He wouldn't keep asking for more if it wasn't.)

"But?" he prompts, very soft.

"But I don't think you have any idea what it is I want from you. I don't think you understand..."

Her words break off in quiet frustration, her hands still fretting at the nape of his neck, her heels dug into the backs of his calf. She speaks and he can feel how fragile she is in this moment. How vulnerable.

"I can't be just a quick fuck. This can't be a trial run for me. I've already come too far..." Her words taper off with her breath.

His heart constricts as the fragility of the moment washes over him. His hands pull back the tiniest bit, like he's realized he's about to crush an eggshell. He looks -- stricken is the best word. Almost in disbelief that she's opened herself up this much to him.

Oh, Dejah.

Curtis wraps his arms around her, his chin on her shoulder, gathering his thoughts.

"This isn't a quick fuck," he whispers. Of course it's not. Not at this point. "But I think -- can I tell you what it was this kind of thing was like back home? Before the freeze?"

Not just Front versus Tail, he reminds himself. Earth versus Barsoom.

She yields, holding to him like her very life depended on it. There was a sickening lurch in the heartbeat where she thought he was going to pull away, but it's forgotten in his embrace. She closes her eyes and holds on, focusing on his voice, on drawing the next breath.

"Tell me."

His still-thin chest expands, falls, expands again with his breath.

"I don't know what it was like back in the 1800s when John showed up," he says, still quiet, "but I think it was closer to what Barsoom's like than when I grew up in the 2000s. As far as formal courtship and all that. Once you hit maybe...I don't know, thirteen or fourteen, you started dating around. You got into relationships with a bunch of people as you grew up, and sometimes they stuck and sometimes they didn't. Like -- sometimes high school sweethearts got married, so you'd stick with the person you met when you were sixteen. But it was way more likely you'd only date someone for a few months, maybe a year, and then break up. It's how you learned."

This probably isn't alleviating any of her fears. Curtis sighs, a little frustrated, working harder to find the words.

"Usually things got more serious once you hit your twenties, 'cause you'd figured out more of your own shit and knew what you wanted. But even then...you'd date the same person for a couple years before you got married, most of the time. You'd sleep together and live together and everything to make sure you were really compatible, because getting married was a really big commitment and you didn't want to fuck it up."

Edited 2015-09-30 19:12 (UTC)

It really isn't alleviating her fears at all. She nuzzles his cheek and whispers, like she's afraid if she speaks too loudly, the whole world will come crashing down around her ears.

"My life is not so simple, I've tried to tell you. I have been presented hundreds of suitors since I was widowed. I do not have the luxury to spend years getting to know someone, only to go back on that decision. I have too many other lives hanging in the balance, depending on me to be their Jeddak."

She's come too far, she knows. This -- what she feels for him -- it has wound itself deep into the fabric of her being. Her grip on him tightens.

Curtis' stomach sinks. The old thought races back -- I can't give you what you want -- edged with a new, almost panicky fear. How the fuck can this possibly work? What can he do if --

He swallows again, harder, and tries to ignore the spreading cold.

"We have time here. Time stops. And -- " He wrenches himself back around to the point he'd been aiming for when he started. "Look, leaving out the one night stands, sex is just part of getting to know someone. Back home. Like we've been getting to know each other, and it means this is more serious and might be going somewhere bigger -- "

She pulls back to meet his gaze, her anguish writ large on her face.

"It's not like that for me. It can not be like that for me. If I give myself to you, I give myself wholly and completely. And I fear, I've already come too far."

Her hand finds its home on his cheek, thumb stroking his beard.

"Please, try to understand." her voice breaks, her jaw clenched.

He can feel her breaking in his hands. Can feel her pulling herself apart, her longing for him and her duty to Barsoom tearing her in two like gossamer silk.

Oh, god, Curtis hears himself think. What have I done.

His heart hammers against his ribs. He can't back out, he can't -- she gave him the arm, he took the Voice of Barsoom, he can't hurt her like this -- he let himself fall in with someone from the Front, and she's asked so little but why can't he just have some fucking time why is that so hard --

He's so afraid he can't even breathe. Afraid the Voice of Barsoom will do its work. Afraid she'll know, in that split-second moment before he can get himself the fuck together and figure out what to do. She's worth figuring out something.

He doesn't want to go.

He doesn't speak, but she can feel him boiling under his skin, as he did in the first days they were together. He wears a hunted look around his eyes, like an animal caught in a trap.

"I'm not asking for a marriage proposal, Curtis. I just want to know that whatever this is -- it's serious. It's something worth fighting for. Worth waiting for."

The longing still runs through her words, clear and bright, even as her fear surrounds it like storm clouds.

He finally manages to draw breath, his lungs burning.

"Dejah." Curtis cups her face in both hands. They're not trembling; he's grateful for that. "Look. If this was gonna be something quick it would've stopped months ago. I'm serious about it. You're -- "

Again, that pause as he tries to find the right words.

"You're incredible. You're somebody I want to spend time with. I swear to god I'm not just trying to get into your pants. I wanna share that with you sometime because I'm serious. Okay?"

She looks into those amazing blue eyes, feels the truth of his words wash over her. His voice soothes her, clears away the darkest of her fears. They can do this. Together.

For a moment, all she can do is nod, closing her eyes to lean into his touch. His hands holding her face, sweet holy mother, she had no idea what that would feel like.

But he still doesn't understand what's at stake and she needs to find the words to explain. She opens her eyes and licks her lips. He deserves nothing less than the whole truth.

"If we share this, it will deepen the Bond between us. If I give this to you, I would be giving you a path to the very heart of Helium. You will be in my mind, and I will be in yours. We will share each other's dreams. Making love, Curtis, it opens a door between us. It's so much more than just getting to know one another. It's a sacred gift of trust."

...Oh.

When she said the bond would deepen, Curtis thought it still wouldn't go beyond some kind of emotional telepathy. Maybe reading surface thoughts. Not -- not that.

His anxiety flutters anew. Quickly, he forces it down, but it shimmers around his words as he says, "Okay." A second's pause. "Maybe...maybe after I see Helium."

The shadow, never far away, coils in the air between them, a formless, quiet dread. He's going to have to tell her. Not at some theoretical future point; he has a deadline now. Before Helium.

Fuck.

She covers his hands with hers, a quiet sigh on her lips. He understands now, and any temptation he might have had to go through that door has evaporated with the knowledge. It's impossible not to feel the weight of the darkness between them.

After Helium. Maybe. It feels like something cracks in her chest, a dull ache that turns sharp.

She wants to tell him she loves him, already. Now. Without the Bond. She wants to share with him pleasure like he has never experienced before. She wants him, regardless of the consequences.

It's like falling through the air, the twist in the pit of her stomach. Like plummeting towards the earth all over again, only there is no one to save her this time. A Jeddak does not get to want.

A Jeddak also never begs, but she is not a Jeddak in this moment. She is just a woman trying to hold onto someone very, very precious to her.

"Curtis. Stay with me. Talk to me."

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