Archive of Our Own

Farah wants to crawl into a hole and hide.

Gaz’ black eyes flit from Alex to her and back - John, too, was gazing upon Alex with a little more intent than usual. Neither has said a thing, but she can tell Kyle is bursting at the seams.

It wasn’t just the timing - Alex and her hadn’t been late per se. Or her text from last night.

Lucky for her, the chopper’s noises draws all of their attention upwards and they watch it descend in compelled silence.

“Good to see you all.”, Kate smiles and Farah almost exhales in relief, as Kate seems to miss Alex’s face, but then the older woman stops and raises an eyebrow at him.

“Got in a fistfight with a cat.”, Alex supplies, shrugging.

“I’m assuming it won?”

“Of course it did, Kate.”, Alex sighs at the bemusement he’s met with. He wears resignation like a well-worn jacket.

“I didn’t know there was a cat on the premises?”, Gaz jumps in and Farah wants to wrangle him something fierce.

“If there is, it checks out that it would choose to bully Alex of all the people it could find to bother.”, Kate murmurs, shaking her head, “Anyway, I want to see the maps you’ve drawn - let’s go.”

Kate waves to a young woman stepping off the chopper, who follows along quietly as they all make their way to the command centre. Farah decides to walk with the unknown woman, rather than to brave proximity to Kyle, who is still all but vibrating.

Before she can introduce herself the woman turns an inquisitive eye onto Alex, who shrugs, again, with a small smile playing across his lips. Farah is left to walk behind them, as the woman pulls even with Alex.

“I assume there’s a good story behind that?”

Her voice is even, bordering on aphonic and it startles Farah into slowing her step.

It’s a mistake.

Kyle is beside her in an instant.

“What happened?!”

“Nothing!”, she bats at his arm and tries to scurry along faster, she’d be safe with John, and Kate, but he holds her back by her sleeve.

“Nothing? What happened to his face then?!”

“Kyle!”

Farah grabs him by his kit and jerks him around. They stumble to a stop and Kate and John slow their gait, half-looking at them.

The strange woman and Alex turn as well.

Farah feels the hairs in the back of her neck raise as an inexplicable shudder runs down her back, cold.

She looks past Kyle and recognizes the weighty gaze in the vacant eyes of that woman. Pitch-black, dark and bottomless they settle on her, her shoulders, dragging her down, down, down.

Heavy as the rubble burying a childhood, youth and life of dreams and love and laughter.

“Is everything alright, Farah?”, Kate calls for them from further up. Her face is surprisingly open for how sombre a woman Laswell usually is.

“Yes. Let’s continue on, why don’t we?”

And with one last, meaningful look at Gaz - later - she pushes past Alex and the woman, to walk with John and Kate instead.

She’s not having this conversation. 

“Farah,” Navid calls from the door.

He holds a plate of tea cups, a steaming array of cups, mugs and glasses, as thrown together as most of their kitchenware on base. It’s almost a miracle they achieved some sort of consistency with anything to begin with.

Then again.

A base.

An actual, though in progress, building and array of compounds to host their fighters and soldiers and aides.

Even to fulfil some international ambassadorial functions - after the destruction of the original building complexes. It feels like a dream. Sometimes she finds herself wandering and gazing in all but a haze, only coming back to herself proper after a while, ending up so far off and away from where she’d meant to walk.

Now this. Offering tea. To their guests.

“I’ll get it.”, Alex quickly returns with the drinks and passes them around.

Kate looks upon the chipped glass with interest, whereas John and Gaz eye their drinks warily and Farah sighs.

“You will live.”

Both men sputter and are quick to apologise, they meant no offence, it’s just unexpected and they’re curious and excited to have a taste of locally grown Urzikstan tea. Aliott smirks over the rim of her mug, the motion not reaching her flat, black eyes.

Kate’s assistant is a quiet woman, lanky, but short. Looks a little like she never quite grew into too long arms and legs. She has said very little, even if addressed and seems to prefer to have a thorough read of the material presented, than to mull it over.

It is Kate’s hope and suggestion that Alliott stay in Urzikstan as a sort of spearhead, a liaison, of recovering American and Urzikstan cooperation. Recovering relations.

Farah doesn’t know if she can work with a woman so devoid of life. And she doesn’t know if she likes the pointed, yet quiescent interest Alliott takes in her brother and Al-Qatala. ‘Allie’ tugs a transcript of AQ-communication closer, running a finger along the printed lines of Arabic. They had picked something up right after AQ had abandoned the Russian bunker. There was some sort of verbal code in it and it gave them a hunch of where they were going next. The warhead was a good start, but they needed other supplies, too.

“Tea?”, Alex offers and Farah jerks around, throwing out a hand - but he’s right behind her.

So she hits him in the dick. On accident. Full on fist on dick.

Alex doubles over, sloshing the tea, Gaz snorts, chokes and spits hot liquid back into his cup. Kate gasps, covering her mouth with a hand - covering a smile - and John winces in sympathy.

“Oi, the poor lad.”

Farah face is hot with embarrassment immediately - he hadn't even done anything, she just hadn’t seen him or heard him and he’d surprised her -

“Oh, oh no, Alex, I’m so sorry - “, she takes the cup from him immediately - a porcelain one, that doesn’t even look like it should go here - and puts it on the table, where it quickly spreads a beige stain across their sketches, so she curses and scoots it aside and - and doesn’t know what to do, so she just pats Alex’s hand on her arm awkwardly.

“It’s fine - it’s fine. Oh. Geez. Okay.”, Alex laughs, breathless for a moment, “Geez. Wow.”

“Oh, Alex. I’m sorry.”

“‘s fine, I probably deserved it.”, he gifts her a crooked, if pained smirk, and her heart skips a beat -

“No arguing back to me. You came inside.”

“Yes, Ma’am, I’m sorry, Ma’am.”

“For sneaking up on me? Yes, you did.”, Farah crosses her arms, taking a deep breath. She can feel her hand. It burns, the skin hot where she’d hit him - his, in his - and she's thinking of - Countenance.

Across the table, next to Alliott, Gaz sticks out his tongue and tries to look at it. He taps Al on the elbow, who, eyebrows raised, gives it a quick inspection, but shrugs.

Farah hopes he’s burnt his tongue.

“Sorry, Ma’am. I didn’t mean to. Phew,” Alex exhales forcefully, coming back upright, “Alright, I don’t even need that cup of tea. I’m wide awake now.”, he rests a hand on the table, close to Farah - he stands close, very close. Farah thinks, faintly, she smells roses.

“Well, at least there’s that.”, Kate murmurs as she shakes her head, “Give us the rundown, then. Everything, on Hadir, Al-Qatala -”

She stops, when Alex squares his shoulders at her, still shaking out one leg, gestures towards Al - “No, tell it to her. I'll listen.” 

“So, what happened?”

Farah sighs. Here they go again.

“Kyle. If you don’t speak in whole sentences, I cannot answer your questions.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Kyle.”

“Well, I’m just wondering, what he’s done to you that you not just try to claw his face off, you also hit him in the dick?”, he wiggles his eyebrows, “Judging by your message, I thought you’d had a good night?”

Past his shoulder Farah sees Alliott straighten from the papers she’s looking over, half turning to where Alex and Kate are in deep conversation.

Her neck grows tingly again.

“Nothing happened.”, she turns away.

“Nothing? Well, that’s gotta be a different nothing from the one we talked about yesterday, because - “

“Kyle - why are you so obsessed with this?”, Farah crosses her arms and pins him with a stern glare.

“I’m not obsessed,” he mirrors her defensive stance, “I just thought my two best friends finally got it on and then one of’em shows up with basically a black eye and the other punches him in the dick -”

“I didn’t punch him in the dick!”

“Sure did and everyone saw.”, Kyle smirks, exposing a sharp cuspid.

She’s not having this conversation with him.

“Well, kindly, fuck off then.”, she turns to collect her cup and find where to return them, when Kyle holds her back by the arm.

“Wait, Farah -”

“No, Kyle, really - I can solve my own problems. I appreciate your concern, but nothing happened.”

“Farah.”

“What?”

“Just - are you - are you okay?”

Kyle’s brown eyes are soft, concerned. They’re kind and warm and she wants to say it - she wants to explain - the disorientation, the confusion, the fear - she wants him to understand. She meant it, she wouldn’t ever want to harm Alex, never on purpose.

But it’s not Kyle she needs to make understand. It’s not him she needs to make it up to.

Kyle’s brown eyes are soft and warm, lit with an honest, fierce concern and affection from the inside, for them both; Alex and her.

Farah catches black, soulless eyes, across the room, a raised, feathered eyebrow.

No, she thinks to herself, I don’t think I like those eyes. 

Farah knocks.

She hears bustling beyond the door and promptly decides that, actually, she’s a little out of her depth here, she’s actually quite tired, and so is Alex, probably, right? It’s been such a long day - it hadn’t , but - he’s had a bit of a night, she should get going and just leave him -

“Farah?”, Alex inquires, from where he’s propping himself against the doorframe, “Where are you going?”

“Oh.”, she sighs and finds little humor in the rinse-and-repeat of their conversation from last night.

He smiles, his blue eyes crinkling and Farah falters.

Resolve?

What resolve?

Her shoulders relax, shedding the weight of the day with ease, the uncertainty in her heart unravelling quickly. Maybe this was fine. Maybe.

“Hmm, I was wondering if I could …”, she gestures to his door, without really committing to what exactly it was she’d pondered.

As per usual, he takes her at face value.

“Come in?", Alex finishes, smiling, “Sure.”

He does a cutesy little hop to the side and she realises he's not got his prosthetic on. Clearly he was close to going to bed - but she's almost more impressed he indeed takes it off for sleeping.

Farah ducks past, “Sorry, I hope I'm not keeping you from going to bed.”

The soft smile playing on his lips crinkles his light blue eyes, feathering creases that tug tightly on the unravelling strings in her chest. Farah wants to shake him. Again.

Behave., she tells herself in confidence, At least until you're inside.

“You know I don't mind, even if you had woken me.”

Her heart flutters and stills, sorrow rushing in where relief had started to pool. It quickly washes over memories - and the yearning - of gentle, testing touches, colouring them grey with guilt.

Sighing, Farah lets herself plop onto the edge of his bed, the same slender metal-frame and standard issue as hers. Another miracle of consistency.

She picks at a fold in her pants. Tilts her head, unsure how to start or phrase - it, what had happened and how to explain without actually explaining, because she didn't want to go - go there - go there again. The pressure and darkness, the confusion, the not knowing, the body pressed to her back and the where the fuck am I, what's happening,

Mama?

Alex bumps her shoulder with his own, suddenly sitting next to her. She hadn’t noticed the dip of the mattress.

“Going places,” he sighs, “without me, again.”

Gingerly he runs his fingers across the side of her leg, along the seam - just close to her fingers gripping the fabric, close enough to ... Parallel, but not touching. Two lines in the sand.

She doesn't want that anymore.

“I'm sorry.”, Farah whispers, guilt tight and bitter in her voice and throat and chest.

“I know. I'm fine. You know I can take worse -”

“No!”, she shouts, slapping his hand away and is just as taken aback by her fervour as is he.

Uncertainty breaks across his face and Alex scoots away, as if only now noticing how close, how inappropriate, how presumptive he'd been.

Later, she had said, they'd talk after. Except they hadn't, too spent, too blissful, marvelling at the just-found intimacy. They should have talked. They should have, but he’d been so beautiful, ruffled hair, lips kissed pink and blond lashes fluttering, heavy with sleep.

Uncertainty breaks across his face and breaks her heart, because Farah knows what she wants and always has, but damn her, if he doesn't deserve it kinder and gentler and better.

“... He doesn’t deserve that.”

“Deserve - what? Like he deserves less, somehow?”

Ugh.

Putting Kyle out of her mind with determination, she scoots up on his bed, to lean against the head of it. Someone has to bridge this distance. Opening her arms, she gently tugs on Alex, to come along, to encourage him that no, it wasn’t any, none of that, not too close, not inappropriate, not presumptive. That it was just right.

He's glad, for the encouragement, resting a hand on her knee and nuzzling the side of her face eagerly.

“You still don’t deserve to be assaulted in your sleep like that - I’m sorry.”, Farah reaches up to gently caress the scratches she’d left on his face the night before.

He leans into her fingers, eyes falling closed and head giving a little shake. The picture tugs at the corners of her mouth. He’s such a … such a dog, sometimes. Lucky for him, she's a dog person.

When he opens his eyes again, they’re soft and dark and she thinks his head might’ve gone somewhere else, there. Somewhere a little before she’d woken him up with punches. Before they’d crawled into her bed, even. Somewhere on the floor, somewhere messy and quick and.

And God, if she doesn’t want to follow him and hasn’t been torn all day, between guilt and thoughts of his dick.

“Right.”, he murmurs, “But for what it’s worth, I don't think you quite recognised me, there.”

Of course. He knows her too well.

“No,” she admits, “no, I didn’t. I … It’s more that I didn’t quite realise where I was. Like I said, I’m sorry - “

“Not quite where … or when you were?”, Alex ponders. The cold blooming in her chest settles over her sternum a little like frost from the higher reaches. She grimaces, but Alex smiles at her, picking up the pieces where she’s lost and dropped them.

“And again with the apologies.”, he pulls himself up on the bed, planting two hands next to her hips and pulls in close. “You’ve apologised, I have accepted it. Be honest with me, though, Farah -”

She lets her head roll back against the wall. She’s unsure what to expect and half-sure she won’t like it -

“Is this something you want to talk about or are forcing yourself to talk about?”

Farah blinks.

Such a small thing. Such a small offer of reprieve. So mundane, hardly anybody ever thinks to ask. Because clearly, if you bring it up, it must be because you want to, yes?

He offers her the grace of understanding and accepting that things are neither always easy nor always in need of immediate fixing. That they have a time and place. That they can fix things later, perhaps.

Time.

Because they have it.

Time.

So they do.

What a luxury. Who would have thought?

Not her.

“I’d… rather not, not right now.”, and smirks as she runs her hands up his arms and shoulders, carefully smoothing out imaginary creases in his shirt.

“Alright. I’ll listen, when you’re ready. Is there something I can do, though, to make sure it doesn’t happen again?”

“To make sure I don’t beat your ass in the middle of the night again?”

“That’s not what happened and you know it.”, he admonishes, and God, it’s such a good look on him. She does want to bite him. She does. A little bit. Just a nip. Just …

Right. Focus. Farah’s tongue darts across dried lips.

“Fine.”, she thinks for a moment, trying to suss out what exactly had - put her off like it had, but she’s thinking through a bit of cotton there - remembers lead-like weight in the darkness and shudders. “I think … I think it would help if you, you know, don’t lie on top of me like that. You’re heavy.”, she scrunches up her nose, “You’re a bit of a grown ass man.”

“Gee, thanks,” Alex rolls his eyes, “I mean, that’s easy enough to do. Great! So, uh,” he picks at some lint off to the side of her, brushing some dust off his bed, “Which, by the way, did you, uh, come just to apologise again?”

“No.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.”, he admits, bashful smirk turning hopeful, if a little, only a little crooked. He scoots ever so slightly closer.

“I was actually hoping I could stay.”, Farah supplies, brushing some invisible fuzz off his shoulder, but avoiding his eyes.

“Stay?”

Farah hums, noncommittally, finally looking up, into his eyes and he’s watching her intently from behind blue eyes. Her eyes drop to his lips. It’s not a great angle, she’s probably cross-eyed and can’t even really see her prize, because beard, but. Farah leans back against the head of the bed and tentatively crosses her arms behind his head, tugging ever so slightly, bumping their foreheads together. She can feel his breath against her lips and Alex sighs.

He gives in first.

He gives in first and presses his lips against her, careful at first, but with mounting confidence as she matches him eagerly. Farah sighs into his mouth happily, feeling the strain of the day fall away, for good this time. Lets go of Kyle’s gleeful scrutiny and Price’s stern looks as Kate pulls her back into the present, time and time again, because she’s just been somewhere else in her thoughts all goddamn day.

Alex also pulls away again, first, taking a breath to say something, but she’s not having any of that, not when it’s taken all her resolve, all her determination not to bend him over the table all day long, and chases his lips. She wants to kiss him stupid, and then some.

Her angle’s off and they hit their teeth against each other with a resounding clank. Groaning, she pulls away and rubs at her front teeth. That - wasn’t meant to happen. Goddamn it.

When she looks up Alex has his head in his hands and his shoulders shake and - did she get him that good? God, did she hurt him again?

“Oh God, Alex, are you okay?! I’m so sorry -”

“Farah, if you don’t stop apologising - ”, he shakes his head in mirthful disbelief, “I will - I’ll do - something.”

“Something?”, she imitates his incredulous head-shake and earns a little shove and pinch for it.

“Yes!”

“Do what exactly?”

“Farah!”

“Alex!”

They stare at each other, eye contact both fierce and stern, oh, and amused, with neither of them having even remotely an idea of what exactly they’re not backing down from. But they're not backing down, not giving in first. They're not. They're … in the right here, both, in their own way, their own heads and - seconds pass and they unravel further with every passing one, until she’s biting her lips to keep the laughter in and he’s grinning ear to ear and she just wants to wipe it off his face. Bite his moustache, eat his nose.

Then again - what’s keeping her, really?

“Farah!”, Alex yelps -

She lunges forward grabbing him by his cheeks and pushing messy kisses onto him, his face, not caring what and where she hits and covers him in smooches, as he tries, in vain, but with too little effort to be earnest, to push her off of him. She nips at the tip of his nose and he squirms, wiggling in her grasp.

“Hey!”

“I will fucking eat you - “

“Can we - can we not with the cannibalism?!”

“Then do your - do something!”

“God,” he laughs, putting his hands over her face to keep her biting teeth away, “god, you - you’re so - Farah!”

That would be her, yes.

Alex pushes against her, shoving her back up against the head of the bed. An unhelpful reminder that she won that arm wrestling match by his good grace alone and not by her own strength. She starts laughing, the cheer and glee just bubbling from her, free-flowing after years of stoic determination and always waiting, anticipating the other shoe to drop.

When it had dropped, inevitable betrayal, he'd come and picked it up. Picked her up. Oh, picking up. He could. He could hold her, couldn’t he? Up, against the wall, probably, and just - he could - do - something. Farah bites back another giddy giggle, excitement in her veins.

“God, you’re - you - I can’t fucking believe you!”, he murmurs, voice stern, but his eyes and splitting grin mock the attempt at severity.

“Stupid.”, she admits and his face falls pensive, if soft.

“Stupid, hm?”, he reiterates, sitting up and letting his hands drop to her hips, sneaking under the curve of her ass.

Trying to catch her breath, leaning back, Farah watches the thoughtfulness bloom across his face with reluctant caution. She rather thinks she knows, before he asks. She doesn’t want to have to think about things.

“Can I - Is it -”, he licks his lips, eyes trained on her mouth, “Can I? Say it?”

Crossing her wrists behind his neck again, she watches the pink muscle dart across his lips. Enticed. She lets her head hit the wall.

There’s only been a small handful of people in her life, that’d been this close. Only a small handful of people she had allowed in. In fact, though she’d trusted many, with her physical integrity, with the perseverance of her home and cause and fight and country, the list of people she’d trusted intimately and with her heart had always been a one-name-list. Despite the faith she’s had, in Malika, in John - a one-name-list.

Now it held Alex’s.

“It’s okay, if you say ‘no’.”, Alex whispers, knocking their foreheads together gently - she’d gone again, places, and without him.

Farah takes a deep breath and stumbles still, “It’s - It’s okay. I think. I can - bear to hear it, but - I don’t - I’m sorry, I don’t know if -”

“Bear to hear it?”, he repeats and chuckles and she hopes it’s genuine, because the thought of actually hurting him hurt her, and that little thing in her chest, that wanted nothing more than to lean into him and show him that he meant it all, meant the same, to her. Even if she couldn’t quite … say it, yet. Even if she didn’t know if she could ever.

“Then what - he deserves better?”

“I think, I mean, I need to hear it.”, she amends, closing her eyes, because if she can’t see it, then maybe he can’t see what it does to her.

God, she wants to be better for him. She wants to be.

“Farah …”, but no such luck, as he gently bumps his nose against hers, nudging her to open her eyes once more. And he looks at her, again, with such gentle eyes, such ardent adoration, that it’s hard to remember what had her so upset - had she even been upset? His eyes are blue.

He puts cotton in her head.

A happy kind of cotton, that bordered on sappy.

Alex tugs on her, lifting her hips ever so slightly, that she can throw her legs over his and -

“Not the boots, again.”, she moans and gestures to her feet, her boots on his bed and blanket. Dragging in the outside dirt.

Cotton, it was not okay. How did they get this far again? How had they not driven each other insane, yet? And funny, hadn’t Kyle wondered the same thing? Farah had even less of an answer for him than she had one for herself.

“Well! Since you’re staying,” Alex wiggles his eyebrows at her, “it’s my turn, isn’t it?”

“On what? The boots?”

“Yeah.”

He sits back and manoeuvres her legs into his lap, like she’s an oversized doll. He makes rather quick and easy work of her boots and laces. As he slides them off her feet, he holds them up for her to inspect, each a little victory, and she dutifully ‘Oh’s and ‘Ah’s at them, nodding all the while. It does take him a whole moment, until after he’s sat them down and finds himself looking at her expectantly, that she thinks she sees the realisation hit him.

It breaks in a confused frown and she mouths ‘Puppy’ at him. His frown turns gloomy.

“Are you mocking me?”

“No. I’d never.”

“You were!”

“I’m sorry.”, she admits, wryly, “If you come here, I’ll make up for it.”

“Will you, now?”

“Yes. C’mere.”

“I don’t know …”

“Aaleex.”, she groans, grabbing at his shirt, that terrible thing that says ‘Chicago Bulls’ and she hadn’t even known there were bulls in Chicago. She’s rather foggy on the fauna and flora of the world outside her home.

“Fine, fine, I’m coming, mpf -” and she thinks to herself, I hope you will, you better will. Though they’re probably talking about different things, there.

He’s quickly silenced, when she gets a good handful of his shirt and pulls him in, crashing their lips together - just mindful enough to not clank their teeth together again. It’s easy now, the tough things out of the way - he hadn’t said it - , planting kisses on him, that quickly turn open mouthed. With her nipping and gently biting at his bottom lip he opens up so willingly, she thinks he’s going to melt right through her fingers, so she rakes them through his close cropped mess of hair to keep him close - his hair’s by far not as soft as it had been when he first came to Urzikstan, but still defied gravity eagerly, especially with some help.

She’s been thinking about his dick all day and the prospects of maybe, finally, after hours, getting her hands on him, are too delightful, too delicious and she lets herself slide a little, so she’s back in his roaming hands, squeezing at her ass. God, she’s glad he likes it. He gives a bemused little chuckle against her lips and tugs on her hips, until she slips under him. He lets himself down to his elbows and his hips slide in between her thighs.

When he breaks away from her, she mewls - it’s not fair? Why is he going away?

The sound draws another quiet little laugh from him. Brushing a thumb against her cheek, he gives her another quick peck and she tries to tug him close again, she’s this close pulling on his ears -

“Do you want to … keep your shawl on? Your hijab?”

Ah. Oh. Right.

He makes room for her, but doesn’t really move off her. Instead he’s watching patiently and with some interest, as she unravels the fabric. Then he catches her eye and winces - immediately scooting away, averting his eyes.

“Sorry -”, he starts, gives a little cough, “Sorry, I, uh, I shouldn’t look. Wasn’t thinking. Sorry.”

His embarrassment is endearing. For all the things he knows, this doesn't seem to be one he's too well versed on. Lucky for her, else she’d have to explain, what he … was to her.

“It’s fine. Really. It’s fine.”, she carefully folds the fabric before dropping it on his small, empty nightstand, “It’s just you, Alex.”

She shakes her hair out and gives her scalp a little scratch, closing her eyes appreciatively. It always feels so good, loosening her hair and mussing up the roots of it. It connects straight to the hot, wet feeling between her legs.

Alex is suspiciously quiet through it all - when she opens an eye to check on him, his face is open, but contemplative.

“Hm?”, she elbows him gently.

“I was just wondering.”

“About?”

“Can I … ?”, he gestures to her hair.

“Can you .. touch it? Sure? Alex.”, she adds, vexed.

“Just making sure!”

“Better get used to it, because I’m hoping you’ll get to see and touch it more often. And you have seen my hair before, even before last night.”

“So I have.”

Settling on his knees he reaches down and pushes her hair past her shoulders, fanning it out on the mattress. Farah lets her hands fall aside, waiting patiently, as he experimentally runs his fingers through her waves and then, emboldened, rubs gentle fingertips over her neck, before moving onto her scalp proper. Humming, she leans into it, happily sighing and resting her head into his hands.

He grows more confident quickly, encouraged by her happy little noises, scraping at the roots of her hair with blunt nails. It sends shivers down her back and she squirms.

“You’re pretty.”

Farah opens bleary eyes and beams at him, “Yeah! Thank you.”

Something - she doesn’t know what - catches him off guard and his face, his expression goes through a million different emotions, before it all culminates in a grimace somewhere between overwhelmed, teary eyed and feverish.

“God, I’m sorry, I love you so much, oh my fucking god.”, he exhales, eyes screwed shut, before gripping her by the base of her skull and pulling her into a crushing embrace.

She gets the air squeezed out of her and only just manages to wiggle her arms free and out of this tight embrace to wrap around him.

So. Turns out, she’s not the only one with cute aggression.

“God, you drive me insane,” Alex gasps against her lips, bucking his hips into her and her breath hitches, finally that friction, the one she’s been looking for for hours. No more delays now, please.

“Me - you?! You’re - ha - one, you’re one to talk!”, she barely gets a word out, with Alex pressing messy, ill-aimed, revering kisses onto her, her lips and chin and jaw, his fingers digging into her hair. The best purchase Farah can find is pawing, holding onto his shoulders and it’s a little bit too much room, but she rolls her hips against him, trying desperately to align their groins - she needs to feel him and feel that delicious drag against the bulge in his pants.

Alex moans into their kiss, openmouthed and obscene and it’s bouncing back and forth amidst the cotton in her head. She’s gonna be thinking of this for days, forever, possibly. His voice is so good - his hips give a sharp, stuttering jerk and she thinks she can feel his hard dick dig against her, that bumpy ride and, oh God, right, the piercings. The piercings. She shivers, clutching to his hips with her legs wrapped tight around him. There’s so much fabric between them.

“F-Farah …”, Alex mumbles, mouthing against her lips and tongue,

“Mh,” she gives a minute shake of her head, refusing to budge and grinds into his lap greedily.

She will absolutely devour him, if she must. Bend him over her desk. At any time. He’s never getting away from her ever again. He cannot be left to drive her crazy, so insane like this.

“Please,” she whispers, nipping at his lips again and raking her fingers down his shoulders and upper back. He hisses, throwing his head back, eyes screwed shut. It’s too beautiful an opportunity and she licks a wet hot stripe against his throat, feels the scratch of stubble against her tongue, up to his jaw and leaves little nips and bites along the bone until she reaches his ear, groaning a hot breath into his head.

Fingers twist into her hair and pull her under, Farah’s head hitting just the corner of a pillow and Alex throws out a supportive hand, to prop himself against the bed’s head, so as not to topple onto her. Not that she’d mind - right now she wants to feel his weight, him heavy and hot against her, it’s so good and feels so right to thrust up into him.

Farah stretches up to try and get her lips on him again, as she sneaks some fingers into the waistband of his sweaters, that soft, grey, but deeply offending article - it needs to go! - but Alex coughs a laugh, a surprisingly uncertain noise and - she lets her head fall back to the pillow, breathing hard.

“What?”, she huffs, “What’s wrong?”

“Ah.”, Alex sighs and sits back just a little, a hand coming to rest on her hip, still using the other to support himself, “Just, uh, I had. A thought.”

“Interesting? ‘Cause - I’m - Thinking’s a bit tough - “

“I know,” he chuckles, bending down to give her yet another quick peck, but she’s not so easily deterred by thinking, not so easily pacified by quick pecks and distractions, grabbing his face and holding him in place to shove her tongue into his mouth. She runs the rough of her tongue against the roof of his mouth and he moans into her.

“Fuck,” he breathes, “Fuck, God, Farah …”

“No! No thinking!”, she admonishes, “Bad!”

“Fucking - Farah - someone has to?!”, pushing her into the mattress, down by her hips, he definitely has the better leverage to keep her manageable and she sighs, utterly defeated.

“Fine! Thoughts. Out with’em.”

“Just, uh, that. I know I don’t have … uh, condoms around. You know.”, his thumb rubs soft circles onto her hip bone, “Just, you know. Maybe … bad?”

“Just pull out then!”

Alex sputters, “Farah!”

“What?! Just - do it!”

“That’s,” she attempts to pull him into another bruising kiss, but he dodges her, “That’s not appropriate birth control -”

“Oh my god, can you - why are you so reasonable?!”

“Why aren’t you?!”, it’s their second standoff in what feels like less than twenty minutes and Farah hates his rationality with every fibre of her being as she scowls up at him, viciously so. What’s with the thinking?! Stop!

Huffing in annoyance, she grabs him by the waist and lifts her hips to wrap her legs around him, holding on for dear life, and try to use her weight to pull him down with her and - she can feel him, she knows he wants her, evidently?! So why with the reason -

“Please, Alex, please,” she groans, rocking her hips against him, aiming for that delicious, delirious friction - if only he could feel how wet she is for him, she could change his mind, surely - “Please!”

“Hnngg, fuck, Farah -”

“Yes, please? Just - please Alex, come on!”

She almost has him, she knows she does, she can tell by how he screws his eyes shut, tries to shut her out, but bites his lip, so good, and when he finally opens his blue eyes, his pupils are blown so far, they’re almost black. She reaches up a hand, letting her fingertips just so flit across his lips, but also sneaking a mischievous hand between them, to his crotch, pushing on his erection and squeezing what she can grasp through the fleece of his pants. Squeezes and slides her hands along the length of him, feeling faintly the ridges of piercings.

Alex inhales sharply, holding onto sanity and breath with a strangled kind of composure - Farah tugs on his lips, brushing her fingertips past them, pushing two fingers into his mouth and he whimpers, falls apart - crumbles onto her, burying his face in the crook of her neck, sucking on her fingers for a second. He exhales forcefully, she can feel the hot air, shuddering, laboured, ragged breaths against her neck, running electrifying shivers down her spine. She pulls moist fingers from his lips and

“Fine,” he whispers, voice coarse, “fine, you goddamn - you - minx - you drive me nuts, you know that?!”

“Mhm, I know, I know I do, please, Alex,” she pleads and he huffs a breathy chuckle into her hair, before righting himself again, sitting upright, both hands grabbing her hips and pulling her against him.

“Yes, yes -”, he laughs, “Yes, Ma’am, don’t you worry.”

Placated, now that she knows that she will get just what she wants, that he will have his way with her, her way, Farah lets her hands fall to her sides. Now he can work for it a little bit.

He bends down to press languid kisses onto her, lick into her mouth, all the while rutting against her. They’ve clearly got their rhythm down, but by God, they’re wearing far too many clothes for this.

“Pants.”, she reminds him and he laughs, an easy, husky sound, that fills her with heady anticipation, “I know.” he offers.

His hands snake under her shirt, her blouse, the fabric riding up above her waist and rib cage and she sighs, elated. One hand, calloused, warm and rough, makes it’s way higher, palming at her breasts with soft pressure, pushing not just at the soft tissue, but the muscles underneath. The other starts to pry at the buttons of her shirt - aptly, and she thinks, just for a moment, that he has more practice with this than he lets on, but he’s still kissing her, kissing her senseless, scattering her brain to all four winds, with the way his lips move against her, swallowing her delighted little sighs and moans happily.

It’s not just her, it isn’t - if he could, he would consume her whole. Eat her alive.

The buttons are finished quickly and she wiggles very, very helpfully to get out of the blouse, his hand sliding off her chest into the small of her back, pressing and arching her into him, to get to work on her bra.

“Why am I getting naked first?”, Farah bemoans and earns a gleeful little snicker for it.

“Because you have more layers to work through.”

“That’s not true!”

“It is, love, it is.”

It’s not and she rakes her hands across his back, shoving them into the back of his sweatpants to grab at his ass in retaliation, however, he is actually really not wearing any underwear at all. Her hands are on his naked ass and, oh. It’s a good ass. Damn it.

“Ohh,” she coos and giggles at the easy access - she could have just shoved her hands down his pants right from the start. God, that could’ve been so easy, ha.

Her nails dig into the flesh of his ass, firm muscle that she can truly appreciate and his hips jolt, Alex’s eyes closing for a moment, as she pulls him firm and flush against her.

“Fuck,” he breathes, “I’m - God I’m gonna - “

“What? Gonna what?”

“Fuck you into the mattress, Farah, I will fucking fuck you into the mattress,” he laughs, the threat nothing but a mirthful promise.

“Good!”

Alex gets her out of the bra quickly, tossing it off the bed, and then makes just as apt work of her belt and pants and underwear, she’s out of them so fast, so suddenly, she’s just momentarily a little taken aback by the eagerness - just momentarily, because he bumps his hips against her for attention and she looks -

Smirking, he gives his hands a little shake, before grabbing the edge of his shirt and twisting the white fabric up and over his head. Whether it’s her, whether it’s him taking his time, or whether time does actually slow down, she’s captivated - watching with mouth agape, as the fabric stretches taut over his round, muscular shoulders and taunts her, with how leisurely it reveals the ink on his arms, his skin, his chest and muscles rippling and. She’s. She's a bit of a goner, isn’t she? Oh, isn’t he just gorgeous? A work of art? For her, just for her?

She reaches out, brushing her fingers across his chest, running them over his arms, marvelling, just admiring how the blue and grey flashes between them.

She likes them, no matter how terrible they are, she likes his tattoos and arms so much.

Farah props herself up on one hand, the other still running up and down his arm, and presses an openmouthed, savouring kiss to his shoulder, where his single coloured piece sits atop his deltoid. She tastes skin and salt and when she looks up, she’s being watched, intently, knowingly, known for exactly what deprived things she’s thinking of, licking at his tattoos, and how bad she wants his dick inside of her. He knows her. She feels the hot flush settling on her cheeks and face, coiling in her chest and dredging a searing path down into her cunt.

“Alex,” she whimpers and hungry blue eyes tear her open heart to soul, his smirk driving her to buck and shudder against him.

“Down, girl, please. Ma’am,” he amends, the familiar address long become an endearment, “Down,“ and guides her onto her back.

He’s not even really laid a hand on her, yet. Not fair.

Alex writhes out of his sweatpants next, makes just as much a show of it, settling back between her legs, angling her knees just so for easy access. The piercings on his dick catch the light and glitter phenomenally, promisingly, and she remembers that she should be prepared for pain. Then remembers there hadn’t been any - with a strange, dreadful sinking feeling in her chest.

Such fear, for years, for nothing. What did it even matter?

“You good, love?”, Alex caresses her cheek and she looks back up, meets his eye again, and leans into the touch.

“Mhh,” she hums, “Excited …”

He looks smug, rightfully so, “Me, too.”

Farah giggles and reaches her hands out for him, all eager grabby motions until he crawls over her and she can sink her hands in his fluffy hair,she can never decide whether it’s blond or brown or auburn - her beautiful man. Hers. Oh, just hers alone.

He reaches between them, gripping his cock and pumping himself, once, twice, and she taps his shoulder excitedly, “Wait, wait -”

“Wait?”, he looks at her, startled and she laughs nervously, feels so shy all of a sudden.

“Can I - I want to - can I?”, she hastily, hesitantly reaches for his dick, then pulls her hand away again, torn between just going for it and waiting for permission.

“Oh - oh! Yes, please, please, please touch me -”, Alex grasps her hands and wraps hers and his, both, around his hard and leaking cock. The moment her fingers close over his ribbed member, it twitches and she gasps - fascinated, oblivious to how hard he bites his lips, bites back a moan.

He lets go of her hand and she gives an experimental tug to which she earns a quiet, little gasp, that’s music to her ears. She twists her hand down to the base of his dick and up, briefly covering the tip, then running her palm over the piercings again, while his breathing turns laboured and heavy.

She’s enraptured, just watching the glinting metal appear and disappear behind her hand again as she strokes, it’s a shock, a lightning strike, when Alex lunges forward and slams her into the bed, pressing violent kisses onto her.

Her hand is still trapped between them and she wiggles it further down, to grasp his dick again and pressing it against her wet cunt, into the folds. Alex whimpers, his hips stuttering. The slide of his dick through her is absolutely maddening, so she tilts her hips, angling them upwards, “Alex -”

“Yes!”

She’s free again immediately, with Alex pulling back and on her legs, palms against the backs of her thighs. Farah presses the head of his dick against herself, opening herself with one hand and guiding him along, as he pulls back and pushes into her in one fell swoop.

“F-Fuck …”

He looks so good, towering over her, eyes half-lidded, as he savours the feeling of being inside of her, relishing the soft, wet flesh tightening - and she does feel tight, so fucking full of him. He’s not moving, though, and she, fuck, she needs him to, so Farah throws her hands up, grabbing the headboard hard and thrusts her hips down with force.

Her message hits home so violently, he almost loses his balance and laughs, hard little gasps - he has to support himself on one hand, letting go and almost sliding out of her completely.

“Come - on!”, Farah yells, rocking against him, why is he so slow?! All the time, he never fucking keeps up and she needs him now -

“Yes, yes,”, Alex settles back onto his knees, trying for placating, but failing.

“You promised!”

“Promised?”

“To f-fuck me into the mattress?!”

“Ah,” he pats her leg gently, before grabbing it and pushing down on both of her legs, “right, I completely forgot - “

“FUCK you, Alex Keller, fuck -”

He bends her legs apart further, pushes them down, sinking his cock deeper into her and she sees stars for a moment.

“I’m trying, love.”, Alex’s tone borders on cautioning, but what?! What exactly was he gonna do, huh?!

“I think you know exactly what I’m gonna do to you.”

Ah.

She said that out loud, yeah?

Alex bares his teeth at her and pulls out, before smacking his hips forward with fervour, so hard, her elbows buckle. Her grip on the metal headboard loosens and Alex tuts at her, “Now, you’ve got to hold on a little better than that.”

She chokes on a smart retort, fucked right out of her, when he rocks into her again, bracing himself on the back of her legs. Bending past her knees to plant a lavish kiss on her, Alex sets his rhythm quickly and with as much weight and strength as he can muster, while keeping as close as possible. He fucks into her roughly until she loses grasp of the headboard again, almost hitting her head. He yanks her down the bed for more room, but wouldn’t stop riding her, drawing ecstatic yelps and gasps out of Farah with every drag and pull of her hips.

Farah’s not even seeing stars anymore, blissful nothingness and white - pawing blindly at his shoulders for purchase, anywhere to hold onto, dig her fingers in.

She holds onto him, holding on for dear fucking life - the drag of his piercings, with every forceful thrust, edges her closer and she grabs Alex by the neck, hauling him in for a violent kiss.

“Please,” she whimpers, “Please, please stay, God, Alex, please -”

He shudders in her arms, returns the kiss with equal hunger, equal fervour, “Please - what - Farah - “

“Just stay, please, stay, don’t - “

“Don’t - Farah, you’re crazy,”

“I know!”, she beats a fist against his chest, falls back against the mattress, then claws at his waist, leaving angry red marks across his ribs, so desperate to haul him closer, “I know! I know, please, please, just do it!”

She breaks a nail and doesn’t even know it.

“God - Farah, you - fucking hell!”, Alex’s lost his fight, has lost to her and maybe he knew that all along and still agreed, but he’s out of time to argue, either -

He’s losing his pace, hips turning erratic and sits back, yanking up her thighs for better grip and fucks into her. Farah’s only got the briefest fracture of a moment, to wonder what he’s holding on for, why he’s not just - letting go and then it hits her, her orgasm tearing through her with each exquisite drag and pull of his pierced dick inside of her. They tear so good at the exactly right spot inside of her.

She’s not even got the voice to scream, instead writhing silently and violently. With hitching breath she clenches and comes down on him hard, and only hears him grunt after the ringing in her ears has dissipated. Oh god, she’s missing it, she’s missing it, he’s - she yanks on the sheet for purchase, anything to ground her, because she wants, needs to see him cum into her. She needs to see so bad.

He’s such a beautiful man.

Farah gets to see the absolutely most beautiful man lose himself in her, watch his face fall lax, mouth hang open, breathing hard and eyes closed, as he rides his orgasm out into her. Farah thinks - she thinks - she can feel it, feel him empty himself in her and it makes no sense, but what has ever made a single shred of sense? He’s blissed out so entirely and wholly, his thrusts finally slowing down until he’s just barely sliding in and out of her.

He’s beautiful. Ravishingly so. Mind-numbingly so.

“A-aḥibbak -”

Alex blinks, dazed and bewildered, “Huh?”

“What?” she murmurs, averting her eyes.

“D’you,”, he groans and lets go of her legs, gently patting the sides of her thighs, like she’s done so well, “Did … Did you say … something?”

“No.”

“Ah …”, he falls forward a little, spent, “You know … You’re unbelievable.”, plants a firm hand for support next to her head. He believes her, for now.

“Am I?”, she runs her hands along his sides, trying not to look him in the eye. He’s still inside of her.

“Farah.”

“What?”

“Farah. I can’t just - you can’t just do that.”

She squirms, but, God, he’s still inside of her, got her still pinned by the hips, his weight and position his advantage - she just can’t wiggle out of this so easily.

“It’s just - ach. Alex.“

“What? Hm?”

“It feels so good! I’m sorry, I - it just - I just … want you inside of me, I don’t know. God, it’s terrible, isn’t it?!”, she splutters, embarrassed - wrecked with a hot, flushing denial. She can’t even think straight, yet, and he’s asking her this!

Covering her face with her hands, for some respite from his piercing eyes, maybe hiding just a little from that - that judgement that she’s so sure she’ll find. His eyes are so blue.

“So, uh …”, he starts, then coughs, and she risks a quick glance at his face - he’s not exactly looking at her either, absentmindedly rubbing his thumb along the edge of her ribcage, “So, uh … Is this, uh, becoming .. a thing?”

“A thing?”, she inquires, incredulously - a thing?! What, them?!

“Yeah,” Alex blinks, unsure, “Uh, like … Like a - a, you know - a kink? Thing?”

Oh.

She makes to sit up and they narrowly avoid another collision - it was - it couldn’t be - it was decidedly not - it -

“No!”, Farah squeals, “No, no, it’s not!”, then bites her lips, as he just raises her eyebrows at her, sheepish - and she groans, throwing her hands back over her face, “Oh no - oh, oh no.”

“I mean - I, uh, it’s, it’s not a bad thing, per se, it’s not, uh -”

“Is it not? Is it not?!”

Propped up above her on his elbows, Alex contemplates her quietly for a moment. It’s not that his eyes are shuttered, they’re just - so calm? So quiet? About it all? So sky-blue.

Ach. The cotton.

He does have the decency to flush, ears dusted with pink and cheeks kissed with the red of exertion and, maybe, at least a little embarrassment.

“Well.”, Alex rises to his hands and smirks, “Well, one way to figure that out, yeah?”

“Huh?!”

A smirk blossoms on his face, crooked and just a little, just a little bit this side of evil and yes, yes, they just fucked, they just did, but - it turns her just a little giddy on the inside, to have that evil turned on her. Rekindles that arousal.

He rolls his hips into hers and she feels his piercings.

“Farah, can you - look over here?”, Alex sits up, half-pulling out of her, before thrusting back in carefully. She thinks she can see every muscle in his abdomen play their part in the movement, a rippling, rolling motion. Transfixed, she obeys, fingers caught on her lips, watching as he pulls out a little further, then pushes back in. The next time he pulls out to the tip, and her heart flutters as she notices the thick, creamy drops of white caught in the barbells on his cock. And they vanish back inside of her, with an obscene slap of his skin against hers. He’s fucking his cum into her.

Oh God.

Oh God.

It is.

It is.

Her hands fly out, one to halt him, as he pulls back out and before he pushes back inside of her, the other to prop herself on her elbow. It shouldn’t take this much out of her to not dig - her fingers - into the flesh of his waist, to keep her hands to herself -

“Oooh,” she sobs, “oh, oh it is, isn’t it? Oh no …”

“Of course it is, of course …”, he leans over to kiss her on the nose and she hiccups a desperate laugh, breathless, “Please, don’t stop -”

Forehead to forehead they both watch his slick slide inside of her, each bucking into her met with small, delighted gasps by Farah and - they’ve already outspent themselves, it’s not going to take them very long at all, not like this.

Quickly planting his hands next to her and leaning onto her with his full weight, so she can hang onto his shoulders, Alex hips buck against hers in not so much a rhythm or pace even, than just primitive need to savour this new discovery about her - about them, actually, judging by Alex’s thrilled grin and wild, excited eyes. Farah laughs, her shoulders shaking, and they’re so ill-timed, so wet and slick with each other, he slips out twice in a row.

“W-Wait,” she lets herself fall back onto the mattress, lets go of his shoulders, “Wait -”

“O-oh - no?”, he slows, looking so utterly put out by the thought.

Who - Who had a thing now?!

“No - Yes, oh god, of course yes, Alex, always fucking yes!”

Laying down, she reaches between them and grasps his wet cock. Immediately her hand is slick with both of them, as she presses his dick against herself, rolling her hips vaguely upward - dragging him through her wet folds and the tip, then the piercings against her clit.

“Oh.”, Alex gasps and when she quickly peeks up, it’s worth prying her eyes away, because he’s just as enraptured, entirely engrossed in the sight of them, sliding against each other like this.

She bites her lip, to keep quiet, but every stroke against her clit, every delicious grind of his piercings has her fracturing, falling apart quicker than before. Alex sits back, not without planting one last kiss on her cheek, and gently bats her hand away.

“Watch, okay? Just watch, love,” and she nods, wordless, eloquence out of the window, out of the fucking building, eyes trained on his rough hand pressing onto her hip, the tip of his cock catching on her clit, before tugging past, each of the piercings catching next and dragging against her, she’s delirious with pleasure, fighting not to let her eyes fall shut in anticipation.

Farah squeals in protest, when he pulls away, palming at his dick, his own eyes fluttering shut, he’s fighting it, holding on, holding on, holding on, just for a moment longer - then buckles, quickly pushing into her - but just the tip, just far enough that she can see and feel him spurting his cum into her.

It’s the best damn thing she’s ever seen.

The moment he’s done and all but turning boneless, she pushes up against him, pushing his dick inside of herself hastily, because she - she just needs to feel it, to feel him, desperately so, she throws her arms around his neck and bucks her hips against him, upward. The anticipation and heat build in her so quickly, she really doesn’t need much, white spots dancing before her eyes, as she roughly fucks herself onto him. She’s just fucking his cum deeper inside of her and it’s that, that line of thought, that unravels her, has her dig her nails into Alex’s shoulder and cross her ankles around his hips, chasing the tightest friction she can and she’s a spasming, sobbing mess under him, just holding on for dear life, while Alex, tired and exhausted Alex, helps her over the ledge with a couple of last, lazy thrusts. She’s coming on him hard.

When finally they’ve caught their breath again, Farah’s buried under him, again. But it’s the good kind this time, the one where she’s awake, warm and sated, and knows exactly where and when she is.

“Last time.”, Alex mutters.

“Hm?”

“That’s the last time.”

Her heart skitters to a stop - the last - the last time, what?

“W-What? What - what do you mean?!”

“I mean,” he attempts to prop himself up on his arms, but only manages to topple over and slide off of her, “I mean, that we’re goin’ … into the field tomorrow.”, he heaves a laboursome breath, tugging her close by her waist, “But before we go, I’m gonna see if I can .. get some proper condoms. For after.”

“Oh.”

“Because we’re not doing that again.”

“Alex -”

He turns his face to her and his eyes, though ardent, soft and mushy from love-making, are unrelenting, “No. It’s - I’m not saying I don’t want to, love,” a tired fingers comes up to trace the outline of her nose and cheeks, “Because that’s easily the fucking best I’ve ever had, but it’s also the most fucking dangerous thing we could be doing.”

And doesn’t she know it. Doesn’t she know it.

Farah sighs, defeated.

He’s right. Of course he is.

“You’re so sensible …”

“Someone’s got to be, because you, dear, are clearly not going to be it. And I’m not talking to Gaz about this.”

For a dreadful second she thinks about it.

Kyle.Sensible Kyle. Knowing. Kyle knowing – this about her and Alex. He’d have a field day with them. They’d never live it down. She would never live it down.

“Yeah, uh, exactly that.”, Alex comments on her grimace and they laugh into each other, quietly.