Adrian and Bea drive home after the Noor-incident.
[Pet Safety]
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Content: BBU, recovery, setbacks. Short reference to (recovery) dubcon, and references to sex.
On their ride home, silence was hanging over them like a wet blanket, all-absorbing and suffocating, punctuated only by Bea slowly tapping her fingers to the passenger window as she looked outside. It was a little foggy, early in the morning, but the fog would dissolve soon and give way to a sunny day. Adrian was pretty sure that what happened between them would not dissolve that quickly.
"I asked him," Bea said to the window pane, so quietly Adrian only heard it because there was no other noise in the car.
He frowned. "What?"
"Noor," Bea clarified. "Before I went down on him. I asked him, if he wanted it."
Adrian flinched, his hands clenched around the steering wheel, gaze glued to the street in front of them. He forbid himself to render the images of what she'd just said.
Of Noor and Bea.
Of himself and Bea.
The memory made him nauseous.
"That's..." He cleared his throat. "That's... good. Consent... Consent is important."
"You didn't want it," she said.
Adrian's hands were sweaty. "Yeah," he replied stiffly.
"You didn't want both of it." The tapping of her fingers on the window pane had stopped. "You didn't consent to me fucking you, and that hurt you. Noor consented. And that hurt you, too. I... Did I.. Did I do it wrong?" Her voice trembled a little on the question.
"No," Adrian said, focusing on the road in front of him. "You did great, Bea."
He felt her gaze on him for long seconds, before she tilted her head. "You are hurt, Adrian Delgado," she insisted, voice soft with sadness. "Because of me. Again."
"It's not because of you. It's... It's complicated."
Her jaw tensed. "I'm not stupid."
"I know." Adrian exhaled sharply. "But I am."
He was. It was stupid being jealous, it was stupid falling for her, it had been stupid taking her in in the first place.
Bea glared at him. "You aren't allowed to be stupid."
"Why not?"
She paused for a moment, lips pressed into a thin line, before she shrugged and turned away.
Adrian bit back a curse.
He was stupid, but he was decent enough at reading body language.
Bea was crying.
She was doing her best not to show it, keeping her shoulders straight, her head up high, but Adrian knew it anyway.
He drove the car onto a parking lot. One of the touristy ones, right by the water front. It was near empty at this time of the morning. Someone with neon pink shorts was jogging past them, while at the far end of the lot a lady set up a coffee stand.
Apart from them, they were alone.
Adrian turned off the ignition.
"Bea?"
She shook her head.
"I'm sorry." Adrian said.
Bea pushed open the car door and walked away. She kept her shoulders straight still, moved her hips with the casually sensual sway all Romantics mastered. It didn't work as well with Converse chucks as it did in heels.
"Bea!"
He got out as well.
She didn't stop.
Adrian hissed the curses audibly now. She was too far away to hear him. Fuck. He wished Marta was here.
But she wasn't. This was his to deal with.
He pressed the lock button on his car key, and once he heard the loud click, fell into a jog past her.
"Bea!"
A man with a tiny dog and barely veiled interest in anything unusual during his morning walk passed them, not without gawking at Bea's collar and then at Adrian. "I thought one paid for them to not act like the wife."
"Fuck off," Adrian hissed, and at least the man flinched.
He picked up his dog, pressed it to his chest and brushed past them, shooing and loudly whispering, "You're the only decent sort of pet anyway, Cesar" into the dog's fur.
One shove would be all it took to send this pathetic man and his dog stumbling into the cold water.
Adrian banned the thought. Bea didn't even seem to have noticed. At least she'd stopped. She looked over the fog in the bay, arms crossed, hugging herself.
"I'm not a pet." She spoke quietly, without turning back to him. "Or, it's not all that I am. I'm a person. You taught me. I'm a person." She swallowed, and he could hear the sobs still clinging to her voice. "If you are stupid, Adrian Delgado, then how can I know this is true?"
-
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This piece entirely skips on the very interesting relationship between Adrian and Noor; but please don't worry, you'll certainly get it another time.
For now, however, the stage belongs to Noor and Blanca.
[Pet Safety masterlist]
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Noor and Blanca try to learn from each other.
Content: BBU, BBU recovery, BBU Romantic, implied dubcon sex between survivors (or is it? Your call), messy first steps in recovery.
Noor sat on the edge of the couch in Marta's small apartment and tried to sort what was happening around him. The WRU handler had come, the one who'd told him to run away, who'd pressed him against the wall and told him about the red car, and he hadn't been scary this time, just exhausted, in plain clothes and with a much softer voice. And Marta had allowed him in, even though she hated WRU, and wanted nobody to know about the runaway pet hiding in her apartment.
And even more confusing was the pet the handler had brought along. Another Romantic, older than Noor, much more scarred, and a more angry stare, but not a runaway. This one was owned. By the handler. And deeply in love with him, as her eyes on him suggested.
She made Noor uncomfortable, even more so than the handler himself, but she didn't seem to distress Marta, and so Noor did his best to cover up his unease.
They'd just gotten past some short introductions, small talk in English and then quick business talk - at least he supposed it was, he couldn't tell - in a language foreign to him. Noor simply tried to be invisible, avert the curious gaze of the other pet and stared at his bare feet, toes curling up in Marta's soft blanket.
He only realized that Marta was on the phone, when she let out a string of wild curses and Noor's head flew up in alarm.
"It's alright, Noor," she assured him, before she looked over at the handler. "It's Ray. There's a problem at the safehouse. We need to get over there. Can you come?"
"Sure." The handler - he had a name, Noor knew, he was meant to call him Adrian, but you never call a handler by their first name - nodded. "What about Bea?"
Marta shook her head. "No. Too dangerous. She can stay here. Noor knows his way around."
Noor glanced over at the other pet. She wore a collar, a soft dark blue one, that she touched sometimes, before smiling at the handler. It stung. Bea had an owner. A kind, attractive owner with strong arms and a soft smile. The picture perfect life that had been promised to every pet. Except for the demo pets. They just pretended, all the time. Pretended to love, to be loved, to be owned.
Bea had the real thing, and Noor didn't. Marta was kind, as the handler was, but she had explained to him that she wasn't, and would never be his owner. It wasn't fair.
"I don't like you to be in danger, Sir" Bea said, and looked up at her owner through her lashes. "I don't want you to get hurt."
"Marta will look after me." The handler took Bea's hand and pressed it. "You be safe."
There was a longing in the pet's face that was way too familiar. But she smiled at him and nodded. Noor noted the little sway in her knees, as if she'd wanted to kneel at her owner's feet, and then had changed her mind before she moved.
Noor wondered if the people had noticed, too. Bea was a lucky pet, but also a strangely behaved one.
Marta picked up a duffle bag and tossed it over to the handler, before she grabbed a briefcase herself. "Don't wait up," she said lightly. "Bea can sleep in my bedroom. Just remember to stay away from the windows, when I'm not here."
Noor nodded. He knew. She'd explained to him, in all detail, how crucial it was that him staying with her was unnoticed. That if they were reported, the handlers would come and hurt them both. Noor didn't want that.
He silently hoped, that the handler that was Bea's owner wouldn't hurt Marta, either. But he couldn't judge that; that was people business, and Noor found pet business much easier.
"I can show Bea what to do," he assured Marta, a little proud, because it was true. He could handle things. He was a good pet.
"Great." She cast him a wide smile, that couldn't cover up the exhaustion underneath. Marta wasn't a good liar. But it made Noor feel warm that she tried, for him. Nobody ever had before. "See you later."
And with that, the two people left, both pets silently staring at the door falling close.
"Do you like it?"
The question startled Noor. When he turned his head, Bea stared at him from her one steel gray eye. There was a scar running down her face on the other side, mostly hidden under the black eye patch. It made her gaze a lot more disconcerting. She was still pretty, but she wasn't... perfect. Not as a Romantic should be. Not as Noor still was. Then why did she have an owner, and he didn't?
"Do I like what?"
"Being free," she said.
Noor frowned. Marta often talked about feelings with him, but never as bluntly as this pet dared. "Why?"
Bea shrugged. "Because I don't know if I want to be."
"Pets aren't supposed to think about that," Noor replied automatically.
"You're not a pet any more," she shot back, before she frowned. "Or..., at least not a pet bound to these rules. You're a free pet."
"And what are you?"
"Something else." She gave another shrug, and a half smile he knew intimately. Covering up the mess underneath, the fear and insecurity, at the sheer size and complexity of the world that they weren't supposed to live in. "You didn't answer my question though."
Noor bit his lip. "I... It's confusing," he said. "It's like..." He looked around, lacking words, and stepped over to the open kitchen. It was strange, still, that he was allowed to touch things, to take whatever he felt like. He opened the cabinet that Marta called her "secret reserve", sweets and snacks and chocolate, and pulled out some of the bags. It felt horribly wrong. "There's choices. Not the kind of choices from the handlers, where you just pretend. But I could eat..." He lifts one rustling bag. "Green bag chips, or," He lifts another, and another. "Peanuts, or chocolate chip cookies, or another color bag chips. Or nothing. Or all. And it's..." He frowns. "It's just a lot."
She bit her lip, just as he had before. It was irritating, seeing someone else do it. Like a mirror, even though she was nothing like him. Right?
"Cheese," she said, and pointed at the green bag. "I'd pick cheese flavour."
"Why?"
"Because I like cheese," she replied.
"How do you know? Good pets don't want anything but their owner."
She looked at him for a long while, until he couldn't stand it any more and averted his gaze.
"Why do you want me to be a good pet, Noor?" Her voice was careful, wagering.
"I...," he whispered weakly. It was harder to act around her. He couldn't just put on his easy laugh, or his seductive smile. She'd see right through it. "I want things to be simple. I want to know what's good and what's bad, and right and wrong, and I want someone to tell me what's what."
"Cheese is good." Bea cocked her head. "And I'm not a good pet. There. I told you."
"You're not-"
There was something in her icy gray stare that made him stop talking.
"You think I'm not someone who can tell you?"
"You're-" You're like me, he'd wanted to say, even though she obviously wasn't. "You..." He gave up, just stayed there standing, chips bags in his hand, feeling how his body automatically curved into a more favourable position, hip tilting, weight shifting, back to default.
Bea stepped in, slowly, and gathered the snacks from his hands, stowed most of them back into the cabinet. Noor swallowed, but didn't move.
Suddenly, he was strangely aware of her body next to him, of the way her arms brushed over his shoulders as she fumbled with the cabinet he was still standing in front of. She wasn't like him, but her movements were like his, beautiful and sensual.
"These," she said, her voice all but a whisper as she softly tugged at the one bag left in his grip. The green one, of course. "We'll share these, and find out if you like them, too."
He kissed her.
It was more of a reflex than any conscious decision, it was the warmth of her body and the tone of her voice and the soft authority of her suggestion. It was right.
And so was her reaction.
He could feel her body soften against his, melt into their embrace, the smile spreading on her face when she kissed him back.
Bea's lips were warm and soft and eager, with a hunger lingering behind it that he felt himself. It wasn't a hunger for him, nor was his for her, but it was for what their bodies could do, together.
What they needed.
What they were made for.
*
Her hands were fumbling with his waistband, his had pushed up her shirt and roamed over the soft skin of her breasts, and for a single moment they lost their shared rhythm, when she stepped back to sink to her knees and he grabbed her hips to lift her up onto the counter. Their foreheads bumped into each other, and both of them let out a breathless laugh.
"You-", he began.
"Would-", she said.
They laughed again, and hers was a little darker than before, less airy, more... different.
Then, she stepped back, keeping him at arm's length. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair tousled, her smile radiant. He tried to follow, to hold her again, to touch another person's skin, feel her warmth, to -
"Stop," she said, with a sudden sincerity, that made him wince. "Do..." She bit her lip, frowned a little, almost nervous. "Do you want this?"
It was his turn to pause. "I..." he stammered and reached out. "I... Of course, I... you..."
Never. He'd never been asked. He'd always been ready, always willing, eager to please. Nobody had ever needed to ask.
"For you?" She clarified. "Do you want this for yourself?"
He blinked. "Do, um. Do you, Bea?"
She smiled again, brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "Yes," she whispered. It sounded almost like a confession.
Noor stared down at the green bag of chips, discarded on the counter. Then back at her. Bea was beautiful. Soft. Careful. She knew how to touch him, and she wanted to, to make him feel the things that he craved.
She confused him.
She could give him everything.
His throat was dry. "Yes," he croaked. "Yes, I... I want this, too. For... For myself."
Her hand that had held him at a distance curled up in his shirt and pulled him in, and then her lips were on his again, more urgent than before.
"Good," she breathed and pushed him against the counter. "Good. Then lean back, and let me go first."
This time, when she got to her knees, there was no misunderstanding.
Noor didn't have to do anything.
He just enjoyed.
*
Noor returned the favour, after, and then once more, later that evening.
Bea didn't sleep in Marta's bed. She'd fallen asleep curled up next to him, in his single bed in the guest room, his arm wrapped closely around her.
He pressed a kiss to her shoulder, the salty taste of sweat mingling with the after taste of vinegar chips still lingering on his lips.
He hadn't liked the cheesy ones at all. But they'd just tried the next sort. He'd like these much better, and Bea had just smiled at him, as if she'd always known.
"Thank you," he whispered against her skin, thinking about her initial question. "Maybe it's better than I thought."
She grunted softly in her sleep. And even though no one could see it, Noor smiled.
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Pet safety tag list: (let me know if you want to be added or removed) @gottawhump @flowersarefreetherapy @whumplr-reader @highwaywhump @tauntedoctopuses @pigeonwhumps @whumppsychology @labgrowndemon @whumpinggrounds @somewhumpyguy @whumpzone @tragedyinblue
a scene-ish thing i’d really love to see is Noor having a comfy moment with Marta :)
i hope you feel better soon <3
Hair
Thank you, anon! I'm almost back on my feet, but this ask didn't let me go!
Content: BBU recovery
There was a knock at Marta's door, so light and quiet that she would have dismissed if she hadn't heard the soft shuffle of feet moving away.
She swung her feet over the edge of the bed and opened the door.
"Noor?"
He immediately turned to face her, gaze dropping to the floor.
"I'm… I'm sorry for disturbing you, Mis-…, Marta. I'm sorry, Marta. I'm... It was nothing."
She stifled a yawn and leaned to the door frame, shaking her head. "It's fine. You can come to me about little things, too, Noor, you know."
"But... But you are tired, and... and you need to deal with important things."
"I do." Marta gave a half shrug and smiled. "Like you. You are important to me. What is it?"
"I... You... You said I should come and ask if I ever..., if I needed something."
"I did." Marta nodded. "What is it?"
It was rather early, she thought to herself. They compared notes sometimes, in their own group and with other safehouse workers. Sometimes, when times where light enough to be easy going about it, Marta imagined them like young parents, trying to figure out what it meant that their kids took certain steps earlier or later than others. Sleep a full night alone. Lock the door behind them. Say no. Pick their own clothes.
Formulate a need or want.
"I... I need a hairdresser."
It was never what you expected.
"Okay," she said and gave him a reassuring smile. "Sure. It's... I might need to ask around a little, because of our situation. But I'll find one who can come here and take care of you. Is there anything in particular bothering you? Something we could start with?"
He looked at her, a little nervous, soft crease between his brows, and she asked herself how much of this insecurity had been there before, how of it much they had given him.
"It... It's meant to be shiny," he explained. "Shiny and soft, and just a little bit tousled, for that freshly fucked look."
She bit her tongue. Yeah. That definitely was courtesey of WRU.
"Mh-hm." Respecting his wishes, that was the thing that mattered. "It's important that you feel good in your own body." She stressed the you, maybe a little bit too much, but his face lit up with relief.
"Thank you, M... Marta." He set to turn around.
"Wait, Noor? Give me a second." She stepped into her bathroom, rummaged through the cabinet until she found what she was looking for and emerged again. "My... My mother in law, she's a weird woman, but very stylish, and very cultivated. Anyway - she wants me to keep good care of my hair and she gave me this." She handed him a bottle of conditioner. "If you like the smell, you can have it. I never used it. I'm sure it's very good. For long and thick hair, it says. Could be what you need. I'll still find you a hairdresser, of course. This is just... a first step, in a way."
Noor took the bottle very carefully, almost suspicious, his eyes flitting between it and her face. He held her gaze, while he smelled at it.
"Yes." The soft smile that spread on his lips was heartwarming. "I... I would like to use this."
"Do you know how to -" She paused. No. This wasn't actually what she meant, or what he needed. There was something else.
It wasn't like she had to be anywhere else, now or in the morning. She could be there for him.
She smiled back at him, before she started again. "If you'd accept it, Noor, I could wash your hair. With Shampoo, and conditioner, and I even think I have a hair mask somewhere."
Noor's eyes widened in disbelief. He clutched the bottle close to his chest, struggling for words. "But, you are... you are a person, Marta, and I'm... I... Do you want me to wash your hair? I could -" Something shifted in him, his posture, his voice, the tilt of his head, everything falling back into the shape he'd been looked into. "I could spoil you, until you forget -"
"Noor," Marta interrupted him gently. "Yes, I'm a person. And you're a person, too. A person, whom I care for. I'm very happy with my hair right now. You aren't so happy with yours. And I would like to be there for you, as a friend."
"Pets don't -"
Marta raised an eyebrow and Noor stopped, just silently looked at her with huge eyes.
"Person to person. Marta to Noor. Do you like getting your hair washed? I promise, I can be gentle."
"Yes," he said and swallowed thickly. "I... I like it very much."
