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There is no real rationing of hot water, not for COG soldiers, but JD still switches the shower off the second he washes the last bit of soap. The faucet turns off with a creak, and then there is nothing but the thunderous silence that fills the small room and bounces off the heavily tiled walls.
He scraped every last bit of blood, guts, and dust from every nook and cranny of his armor, dismantled, oiled, and polished his lancer, put every last piece of his personal belongings in order in his room and locker. He brushed his teeth, cut his nails, trimmed his beard, washed away the sweat and dirt. He has been at it all day with a single-minded focus, so uncharacteristic of him.
It’s a coping strategy, of course, a desperate attempt to feel in control, even if it doesn’t help, because when he sits down on the bench next to the clean clothes, nothing has changed. He still is the same massive fuck-up. The swarm is still coming. Del is still dead. Now that the last bit of grime went down the drain JD has no more excuses to push these thoughts away, so they creep up, panicky and suffocating, like a steel band squeezed too tightly around his ribs.
No one came looking for him or bothered him for any reason, even though he could feel their concerned glances and hear the hushed whispers throughout the day. Even his father kept his distance, and he is grateful, really. It’s painful to imagine talking to anyone right now, let alone watch them get that pitying look in their eyes. Or worse — let them see him like this, lost, defeated, with a hole the size of his friend right in the middle of his chest.
None of this is new. He is supposed to grieve, lay awake a few nights, make a few bad decisions, break a few laws, or whatever is his drug of choice, he knows the drill. And then he is supposed to let go, but he can feel that it is not going to work according to plan this time.
Why Del, he can barely suppress the urge to shout. Why now?
He presses his fingers to the indentations of his middle name in the metal of his tags, feels the dips and sharp corners of each letter. Marcus Fenix has his own way of coping. They all do — Fahz punches shit, Baird invents yet another version of a deebee, and Kait…
Well, Kait apparently gives mind-blowing and excruciating handjobs. Still waters run deep.
“JD?” A soft knock startles him. He scrambles into a pair of pants and wonders briefly who could be coming here in the middle of the night, but he doesn’t have to guess for long. He turns around just in time to catch Kait in the doorway. She is in her civvies, clean and sleeveless, with her hair braided too carefully for oh-three-hundred hours and a worried expression on her face.
He left her sleeping that afternoon, had to return to duties before anyone came looking for him, but as he walked the corridors back to the main hall he was paranoid that it would take Del or Baird or — God forbid — his dad one look at him to read it all on his face. And then the whirlwind got them, mission after mission, task after task, with barely enough time to eat and sleep and not to die to even think of talking. And then… then things blew up like a barrel of gasoline under the rays of the Hammer of Dawn.
Kait is still on his mind, of course, every day since that fateful afternoon he enjoyed every millisecond of. There would be a flush on Kait’s cheeks or a sheen of sweat on her neck or the sun would gleam in her eyes a particular way and JD would instantly be back in that room, writhing under her hands and gaze, overheated and hard, and frustrated until he had had a good ten minutes of privacy, that would inevitably turn the tight circle of anticipation and guilt.
He should have stopped her. He should have waited for one fucking second before getting naked and admitted to himself that he couldn’t handle it, not like this, just her taking what she needs and him helping out a friend, and then both of them going back to business as usual. Instead, he did what he always did with his back against the wall. Do it now. Think about it later. What a fucking joke.
What would that change anyway, whispers the bitter part of him. The picture is as fresh in his memory as the day it happened — civilians were running in disarray, a mess of fallen trees and burst concrete was burning behind them, and Del had that surprised look on his face as if JD had just correctly recited all parts of the generator, and Kait’s hands were clutching the lancer, realization seeping into her eyes like ice, thick, solid and unbreakable. JD’s chest felt hollow at the irreversibility of everything he saw in them.
They haven’t seen each other since the swarm’s retreat — she brushed off the obnoxious medic and disappeared into the ruins, but he did not have that luxury anymore, not with the way his body got fucked the previous time, and then she kept out of sight.
Maybe she went to do her own sort of coping. JD frowns at the unexpected thought of Kait pinning some fresh-faced and overly eager recruit in a dark corner and showing a hand in his pants.
“I was just...” she says. The door closes behind her with a soft click, but Kait doesn’t step further into the room. “I mean, it’s 3 in the morning and you…” She gestures helplessly at him, unable to find the words.
He has been freaking everyone out with his obsessive intent on putting every little thing in the right place, and she is here to make sure it was not a prelude to a dramatic suicide and he is not hanging off the ceiling lights with a broken neck or lying under the shower with blood from his wrists flowing down the drain out of survivor’s guilt.
“I’m fine,” he is not, of course. He may actually never be fine again, but he knows Del would have never forgiven him if he gave up like that. No, they will give back to the swarm as good as they got.
It is expected of Kait to accept his poor lie, so she does, or so he thinks. At least, she doesn’t say anything in return, and they just stare at each other in oppressive silence. There are shadows and tired wrinkles under her eyes. She shuffles, shifts her weight from one leg to another in the doorway, neither comes closer nor leaves and suddenly JD hates it. He hates the invisible wall between them, the awkward tension that doesn’t allow her to come in, and most of all himself, fuck he hates himself with a burning passion.
“I’m so sorry,” he mutters, too lost to think of anything else to say.
He expects her to go now, maybe say a few more consoling things and then go, since she already saw for herself he is not about to do something too stupid, but she doesn’t. Instead, she takes one hesitant step forward as if sizing up the distance, not taking her eyes off him for a second, and then she resolutely crosses the noman’s land between them, and draws him into a soft hug, bringing a faint scent of detergent and an onslaught of body heat that seeps right into his soul.
He hugs her back and so they stand in this echo and caricature of that time outside the cave. It felt warm then, he wanted to soothe her pain, keep her protected in his arms, and much later, when they found themselves almost buried alive under the rubble, which became Del’s final resting place, and JD’s sat down on the cold concrete and cried and couldn't fathom ever getting up, Kait also whispered things to him and pulled him up by the elbow and dragged him through the fallen building. But now she embraces him with her palm carefully sinking into the skin of his back and her chin resting on his shoulder, and it feels so fucking final that his heart can't take it. He will spontaneously combust, he will rip apart at the seams and bleed out miserably on the floor at her feet.
“I'm so fucking sorry,” he says again, squeezing her just a fraction tighter, soaking up whatever is left f of this. Of them.
“For what?” Kait whispers almost imperceptibly.
“For all of it,” he answers without pause, too busy trying to postpone the meltdown until she has left the room.
And that's when she surprises him because she untangles herself enough to lean back and look at him with big and concerned and not at all angry eyes, and he suddenly remembers the way his mother and father, who knew each other for far too long, could speak without a single word because there is something behind her eyes that makes him hurt from the sudden rush of hope.
"All of it?" Kait asks quietly and her voice almost doesn't tremble.
It can't be. It doesn't make sense. He was not only a dick to her and Del but also a coward, who chose to push them away rather than try and earn their forgiveness. He gave both of them up without a fight, and he doesn't deserve her now, not anymore, not ever if he is honest with himself, but here she is anyway, looking at him as if the balance of the world depends on his answer.
“I lied to you,” he whispers, afraid to make any conclusions, afraid that even taking a breath could shatter this connection, while his heart is beating heavily in his chest.
“You did,” she whispers back. “And you said you were sorry.”
“I am sorry,” JD repeats, his thoughts racing against each other in their rush to the surface of his mind. “I wish I could make it right, I’d… I don’t know if I can ever forgive myself.”
Kait blinks at that and then she takes her right hand off his shoulder and carefully cups his cheek, tracing the ugly scars — the eternal reminders of his stupidity — with her thumb, making him shiver from the warmth and intimacy of it.
“Please, try,” she says, and it feels like she is prying open an old and festering wound, and it’s therapeutic, it’s good, it’s for the best, but it also hurts, hurts so much he can barely inhale.
He is still hugging her, his hands are tense on her waist, pressing her close, which she doesn’t resist, but now he notices that her body is trembling, strung too high with adrenaline of the first real, undeniable brush with death, and the violent, sudden loss of someone close — he was so preoccupied with his own grief, he didn’t even think about how it must feel for her — but also threatening to crack under the pressure of unexpressed emotions, the sheer intensity of which could knock him off his feet. JD feels dizzy for a second like there is not enough oxygen in the room.
“Are you sorry about the rest of it?” Kait asks in a low urgent whisper that travels like fire along his exposed skin, and his heart skips a beat and he shakes his head like he is in a dream.
It’s insane, really. He doesn’t know who makes the first move this time, but his mouth is on hers and he is pressing her into the wall with all of his body, and Kait pays him back in kind, slipping one hand on the nape of his neck and hooking a leg up on his thigh. They kiss sloppily, with a lot of tongue and even more hunger, as if someone could come and break them apart, never let them do it again, so they drink each other up until they are breathless and have to stop and get some air.
He tucks his face under her jaw, while they catch their breaths. Is this what happened to the others? To Sam and Baird? To his dad and his mom? A volatile mixture of guilt and euphoria just enough to tip the scales? Was adrenaline always this much of an aphrodisiac?
Kait kisses him with her soft lips again, hot and unhurried this time, a tantalizing battle of give and take, which makes him burn all over. It’s way simpler in fact — it’s all her, just Kait and her hazel-green eyes, red streaks in her hair, and her tiny freckles. Kait, who is smart and sassy, and fiercely loyal. Kait, who does things to him and lets him get so fucking close to her. Kait, who wants his touch, begs for it silently with a deep red flush on her cheeks and a glazed over look in her eyes, a look that he imagined an embarrassing number of times since their last encounter and maybe even before that. Maybe he was in too deep ever since they made it to the remote outsider village and the leader’s daughter greeted them with suspicion at the gates.
He makes short work of her top this time, and her breasts are spilling right into his waiting hands, soft and warm, and she is beautiful, but it’s not enough, he wants more of her, all of her, so kneels on the hard tiles and undoes her shoes and when her cute little feet are bare, he swallows and puts his fingers on the zipper of her pants. And then he waits for her to stop him, to lay her hands on top of his and put an end to this madness, but it never comes. Instead, Kait watches with bated breath as he rolls the zipper down and carefully peels away the heavy COG-issued fabric, leaving her in a pair of plain grey underwear. JD looks up, pointedly hooks his fingers under the elastic and slowly, but steadily tugs it off, not once looking away from her flushed face, and just like that she is completely naked in front of him.
Honestly, his brain needs a few seconds to reboot at this point.
He kisses her just below the navel, tongues the taut skin an inch below that, leans against it with his forehead, breathing in the smell of spice and sweetness and slick heat as much as he can, with her knees pressed together so tightly.
“JD,” Kait mutters and her voice is shivery and unsure, her hand comes to rest on his head, hesitantly pets his buzz cut against the grain, ready to push him away any second.
“Let me,” he whispers into the damp skin of her lower stomach, half-ordering, half-pleading. Overheated, overwhelmed, and completely desperate. “Please, let me, please, please…”
Kait doesn’t answer, but her knees tremble and part, her thighs relax just enough for him to get his hand on the inside of them, to palm the soft skin there. He won’t push, would never push, but even the idea of getting his mouth on her makes him throb. So he looks up, over the planes of her belly and the curve of her breasts, into her flushed face, and Kait avoids his eyes, but her fingers are violently digging into his shoulders as she nods.
He licks his lips and swallows, mouth watering involuntarily, emotions rushing to the surface at the prospect, both submissive and possessive. Desire to please entangled in the need to own. Own her, Kait, this is Kait and she is all naked for him and he is kneeling for her on the floor and she is letting him — he palms the back of her thigh, before lifting it over his shoulder, making room for his bulk between her legs — she is letting him look at her like this. See her spread out, flushed deep juicy pink. He traces the outline of her with his thumb, strokes through her center with the faintest caress, and Kait gasps and her hips jerk up towards his hand and that is just fucking it.
One of his hands parts her lips and the other one holds her across the stomach when he slots his mouth along the perfect little curve of her. Kait gasps at that, squeezes her eyes shut, and curls on herself, away from his touch. It’s too much too soon, any other time JD would have started slow, would have eased her into this, but not right now. He is too wound up and she is too, he knows because she is so, so fucking wet, glistening in the dim light, the sweet and tangy taste of her is filling his mouth and in the next second her hips buck towards him, her hands a heavy pressure at the back of his head.
“Oh, God,” Kait mutters under her breath.
He dives in, maps her out with broad licks, quick sucks, careful nips, too far gone to be embarrassed about his eagerness. He circles her clit, presses on it, slides his tongue in her slick folds, thirsty for more of her taste, dizzy with her responsiveness, because she moans, quiet but sweet, and all of her body comes alive, trying to find the best speed and pressure. And he gives it to her readily, sticking with the rhythm that makes her hand tighten on the back of his head and her hips quiver, and doing it again and again and again until her thighs threaten to suffocate him and he has to press one of his hands to the tent in his pants to be able to stand it.
She deserves all of it, all of his worship, all of him without any bounds, any reservations. He would give her more if he could, but apparently, sex is the only thing between them he managed to not fuck up at least for now. And Kait is tough, she is sleek muscles, edgy tattoos, and sharp wit, but not like this. Here she is soft, delicate, and sensitive, and open for him, all fucking his to the last twitch and breath, and he wants to keep her like this forever, regardless of the hard floor under his knees and the lack of oxygen.
Kait has gone completely still, only the muscles in her legs are trembling lightly, where she is standing on tiptoes, and her hips are canted towards his mouth. Her nipples are two tight peaks, her head has fallen back and she is barely breathing. If JD knows anything about women at all, she is this close, right on the edge, and suddenly he has a cruel thought of moving away, of taking his sweet revenge for all the times she unintentionally tortured him with her blush, smiles, or looks. He wants to make her wait and beg and watch him when she comes, just like she made him do, but then Kait sobs and sighs and…
“Don’t stop, please, don’t stop,” comes her urgent whisper and that is enough to break his resolve.
There’s always next time and that’s a promise.
So, he doesn’t stop, not even when she thrashes under him, when her heel digs painfully into his back and she seizes in a whole-body convulsion, curving in on herself and letting out a harsh breath, and he can almost feel her throb against his tongue. He works her like a man possessed and only when the last flick against her clit makes her shy away does he finally let go of her.
He gets up, crowds her limp body against the wall, pressing into her skin with his hands and mouth, grinding his hips into her thigh mindlessly, because for a second there he is completely lost and swimming. The air might as well be emulsion, pouring into his lungs, her taste is still on his tongue and her orgasm is still ringing in every part of his body.
“Wow,” Kait says on the exhale, wrapping her arms loosely around his shoulders. The satisfaction in her voice would make him giddy with pride if he wasn’t turned on beyond all hope.
He is still hazy when she guides him backward with careful hands on his biceps until the edge of the bench hits the back of his knees when she undoes his pants and presses on his shoulders until he lands on the damp wood and then straddles his thighs. It’s just like all those months ago, but without a stitch of clothes between them, just skin to skin, hot and tight and merciless. Her palms cradle his jaw, her mouth is a striking soothing contrast on his lips and cheeks and forehead, but JD still tugs her as close to him as possible until his dick is trapped between his belly and her wet heat.
He buries his face in her chest, mouth soft and wet on the fragile bone of her clavicle, and tries to force some of the blood back into his brain. They can’t do this, not like this, he has to get her off of his lap and far away from, if he doesn’t want to do something they both will regret.
“Please, tell me you totally planned for this and there are condoms in the pockets of those pants,” he whispers, pressing his forehead to hers, while each breath of air burns him from the inside. Kait smiles a little at that, hesitantly pulls away and when JD has almost convinced his hands to let go of her thighs, Kait lifts her left arm, baring the underside of her bicep. There a small elongated scar marks previously unmarred skin and a wave of heat flows from the base of his skull down his spine and settles hotly in the pit of his stomach at the sight.
That is a birth control implant. Because they do have to repopulate the planet, but first they have to win this war.
“When did you get this?'' he asks in a hoarse fascinated voice and Kait blushes furiously, as if compared to everything they just did, this is somehow the embarrassing part. “You got it after the last time, didn’t you?” She averts her eyes and JD has his answer. “Fuck, Kait,” he tugs her closer and kisses her on her soft loose lips and then he just steadies himself, wrapping a hand around the base of his dick.
He opens his mouth to tell her to take her time, to go slow, but instead, all he can do is gasp, because there is wet heat around the head and in the next second it envelops him whole as she sinks down in one fluid and slick slide, taking him as far as he would go. His hands grab her ass and thighs reflexively and he manages to mostly suppress the moan that threatens to escape him, fuck, he is inside of her, she is all wet and hot around him and he doesn’t remember it ever being this good. A telltale violent shiver seizes his shoulders and his hands tighten, attempting to make her still.
Kait does keep still. In fact, she is basically frozen in his lap and when he looks up into her face, her eyes are closed and her eyebrows are pinched in an expression of discomfort.
“You alright?” He grunts, winded and lightheaded.
“Yeah,” she breathes out too fast, but her face doesn’t change.
“Am I hurting you? It looks like I’m hurting you,” it would be unexpected, she is dripping wet and he is not that big, but still.
“No, I’m not hurting, just…” Kait draws a slow breath and her fingers skate the curve of his neck and shoulders. “Just... unused.”
Unused. JD thinks, or tries to think, it would be a lot easier without a tight grip of warm muscles around his dick, and he is embarrassed to admit it takes him a lot longer than it should have.
“Kait,” he whispers darkly and takes her face in his hands, prompts her to look at him with those green eyes of hers. “Am I… Is this your first time?”
He can read the answer in the blush on her cheeks. Damn, he should have read it in her abrupt movements, in her awkwardness, in her hesitation.
“Technically,” she whispers barely audible into the small space between them.
It’s simultaneously like a bucket of cold water over his head and the most delicious tantalizing caress along his spine, he shivers under conflicting sensations, feeling simultaneously possessive, responsible, and incredibly turned on.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” He breathes out and searches her face, but Kait just shrugs lightly and averts her eyes.
“What does it matter?”
Oh, what does it fucking matter. Why couldn’t they just fucking talk it out for once? He should have asked, should have taken his time with her, laid her out on his bed, he should have made it special for her because fuck him if it doesn’t feel special for him to be her first. Her only.
“Well, I wouldn’t have fucked you in a public bathroom,” he murmurs, petting her solid flanks, thighs, the dip of her spine, where her skin is damp with sweat. Kait chuckles at that, and then shifts a little and squeezes involuntarily around him so sweetly, that he has to close his eyes.
“Too late now,” she breathes out and shifts back, letting him slide out just a tiny little bit and taking him in again, and just like that desire is back full force.
“You deserve better,” he says quietly, but still puts his hands on her thighs and helps her along, encourages her to rub against him, just like he has seen the other girls do. Kait is a wonderfully quick study, she sighs and follows his lead, her hips find a soft and slow rhythm and her fingers dig into his shoulders. “You know, soft bed. Candlelight.”
“Fuck that,” she says suddenly, furiously. Kait rarely swears, her chosen way of insulting is sarcasm, and JD chuckles at that endearing outburst. “I wanted you."
He clenches his teeth, need coils hotly in his gut as she wraps her hands around him, slides as close as possible.
"And here we are," Kait whispers into his lips, cradling his face in her warm palms. "So, please, just…" And with that she is moving again, rocking in his lap slowly, but steadily, encouraged by his hands and grunts.
“Just fuck me,” she breathes out and who is he to disobey?
He has done this enough times, girls went easily for his blue eyes and broad shoulders, and sometimes even for the reputation that he started to acquire. He is used to a slow and steady lull of pleasure, simple and mindless, and easy as pie, but this is nothing like it. It feels like fire is burning right under his skin. He can’t take his eyes off her, of the way her hips move, the way her skin shines in the dull light, and the way she abandons all shame and leans back in his arms, looking for the best angle, baring her neck and chest for his hungry kisses. He can feel everything, every little detail, the sweat between their thighs, the tightness of her nipples against his palms, the hot, slick grip of her muscles, the way her fingers dig into his shoulders and nape and scratch the barrier over his right arm. He can hear her sigh, barely audible, and the wet sounds of bodies rubbing together, and he can smell her, Jesus fuck, shampoo, and heated skin, and spicy slickness. And all of it drives him right out of his mind, makes him roll his hips up and into her harder than he probably should have, but Kait inhales sharply and shivers and looks at him with those dark and glazed over eyes.
“Yes,” is all she says and he does it again, over and over, as she keens.
Also, he can’t shut up. He never was the one for dirty talk or much of any talking in bed, but now he can’t stop, just like the last time, when he finally got his hands on her, not even fully out of the haze of his own orgasm. He simply had to tell her, and he has to now, so he whispers reverently into her neck that she is so beautiful, and crazy hot, and good, so good for him, his good girl, and Kait keens and kisses him and takes him right to the edge.
Can she come for the second time tonight, just like this? He wants her to. God, it would probably break him, but he would die a happy man. She is all flushed from her cheeks to the tips of her breasts and her hips tremble and pleasure is heating up the base of his spine and pulsing in his balls, so he puts his right hand on her tailbone and just fucks her hard, with abandon, up and up until she sobs and squeezes him inside of her, and JD suddenly can’t take it anymore, he drives into her as deep as he can and stifles a loud moan between her breasts.
Orgasm turns him inside out. For a handful of beautiful endless seconds, everything is so good it hurts, and there is nothing in the world for him to do but hold on.
JD comes back to himself, leaning against the wall with his head thrown back and Kait’s face tucked under his chin. Their heavy breathing echoes off the tiles, loud in the sudden silence, and his heart didn’t beat as rapidly even when the swarm breached the city walls. Kait has settled against his chest, sated and pleasantly heavy, and she is pulsing slightly where they are still joined, and even though his body has had its fill of contact, he throws his arm around her waist and pulls her closer.
The whole bathroom smells like sex, the wood of the bench is hard under his ass, and — what the hell — the door was not even fucking locked, but reality has no place in their afterglow.
Here they are again, huh.
After a few moments, Kait stirs and sits up. Her hair has come loose from the braid in a few places and her cheekbones are still deliciously red, but there is a bright halo of softness around her that lights up her face, so JD has to kiss her and honestly never wants to move again. Kait has other plans, but when she moves to slide off his lap, he catches her by the wrist.
“Don’t go,” he says, firmly, easily. This feeling of invincibility and strength to take on anything is going to wear out, he knows, but for the time being, he can’t remember what about this could possibly scare him. Kait smiles shyly and looks around, taking in the sorry state of their clothes and their mutual desperate need for a shower.
“But we have to…”
He pulls her back towards him for one more kiss, sweet and slow, and Kait comes willingly, presses her hands against his chest, and melts into his arms, like she was meant to be there and when they break apart the words again simply roll off his tongue.
“This changes everything, doesn’t it.”
She says nothing, just looks at him intensely, searches his eyes for something, and JD does not look away. Let her look all she wants, let her see everything, down to the deepest corners of his soul.
“Well, that depends,” Kait says finally and squints at him. “Are there any more dark Fenix family secrets I should know about?”
JD smiles so wide it tugs at the scars on the right side of his face. He forgot how liberating it feels to be open like this.
“Well, once I did put a stink bomb in Fahz’s locker,” he says and Kait shakes her head and mutters something along the line of boys. “Also, I almost got expelled from the engineering school, Sam had to come and bail me out. Begged her not to tell dad, and I’m pretty sure he still doesn’t know. And once I walked in on her and Baird going at it in our living room.”
“Ugh,” she makes a disgusted face.
“Yeah, I was around four. They thought I wouldn’t remember it, but damn that shit was traumatizing.”
She laughs and he laughs with her, and well, he can easily imagine it. The cramped quarters with too much stuff between the two of them, the cold feet against his sheens and hair in his face when he sleeps, the quick kisses on a mission, as hidden from prying eyes as possible, but still not quite. The glances of doubt and disapproval that would quickly be replaced by acceptance and the talk he will be getting from his father and everyone else who feels like giving it. The shouting matches in the corridors, the banging doors, and the hot rounds of make-up sex that will come after.
And just them, together, side by side through all of it till the very end.