#judas touch

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[spiteandalice]

Judas Touch pt. 7

So, uhm? Anyone still interested in this? Let me know if you want to be tagged in future, random surprise installments. I’m not even going to tag anyone in this because yeah. Embarrassing long time is embarrassing.

This still contains language and smut and violence, although this chapter only needs a nudity warning. Sorry. No smut. But angry, vengeful Eric. Yay!

Here are the previous chapters, if you need a refresher. Of course you do, it’s been forever and a day.

PART ONE PART TWO PART THREE PART FOUR PART FIVE PART SIX

The next morning it feels like the entire Faction is playing War Games inside my head and my mouth feels like I have spent the entire night sucking on some sweaty wool socks. The thought makes me gag, which in turn has me contemplate crawling into the bathroom to get this misery over with. But that would entail getting up, which I’m less  inclined to do now that I noticed my exact position. I’m pleasantly warm, thanks to the fact that Eric turned up the heat last night and because he is half on top of me, arms on both sides of my body, one leg slung over me as if he is trying to shield me from ricocheting bullets. Which I can assure you are not an imminent danger even under the worst circumstances, but still.

Trying to ignore the pounding in my head I begin to trace the lines of the ridiculous maze tattoo on his right arm, letting my thoughts wander. When was I this drunk last? Probably while still in school when this older guy told us he had an awesome connection to a few Amity who were distilling their own alcohol in a shed behind the house.

That was the night I learned not to trust anyone with the last name Pedrad.

Eric stirs and stretches languidly, which pushes his hips against me in the best kind of ways, both reminding me of my current state of undress and a certain pressure at the base of my spine that may or may not demand attention.

When I finally arrive in the real world Eric is smirking at me in that annoyingly attractive way that he has, undoubtedly enjoying my miserable state. Before he can start to goad me and ruin both our days my mouth decides to go ahead and shock us both.

“So, I’ve been thinking. I guess I could marry you.”

Leave it to me to accept his less than usual and rather unenthusiastic proposal in an even less enthusiastic way because apparently we are still competing for who cares less about the other. But he did take care of me during my embarrassing breakdown last night, which makes him the only person on this planet that has seen me this weak since I was six and got really sick. It’s either kill him or marry him, with the latter being the only logical option because the sex is way too good to waste his life like that. I’m allowed to be selfish, I didn’t get Abnegation for a reason. Well, many reasons but this is definitely one of them.

Eric frowns at me, undoubtedly watching me for any hints that point at me joking while he processes the information. It’s unnerving, because I suddenly think that maybe he wasn’t really serious, that he was merely joking and now I went ahead and made myself look like an even bigger idiot than usual, especially after last night. I mean, he saw me bawl my eyes out, sort of. Not very attractive, right. Maybe I’ll be going to the bathroom after all, if I drink a bottle of his aftershave that should be enough to kill me, right.

Then he shifts and positions himself between my legs, his face right in front of mine. He still looks strangely blank, calculating away with his damn Erudite brain that I will smash out of his skull with his damn bedside lamp in mere seconds. Then I see a spark of humor in his eyes and I swear, if he taunts me now he is so dead…

“Are you sure you’re not still drunk, if I call Max he will want to meet with both of us and if there’s so much as a hint of you not being of sound mind…”

I reach out to punch his face but it lacks any power because I’m buried underneath him, there isn’t much room to really get speed going and because I’m also feeling strangely weak and tired, almost as if someone has sucked all life out of my body.

“I swear, Eric, if you don’t stop behaving like an asshole…” I grit out between clenched teeth, before I stop myself. Because he’s chuckling. That pompous asshole has the audacity to laugh at me!

“You know that he might actually shed a tear, right. He’s been dreaming about this.”

“Shut the fuck up, Eric. I’m changing my mind already.”

He chuckles again and dips his head down to bite at my neck, which is familiar territory and a lot more acceptable than this talking bullshit. My hand finds purchase in his hair, which is, to my pure and utter delight, free of any styling products and ready to be messed with. My fingers clench into a fist, trapping a chunk of curls between them and he growls - again, to my delight. My attempt to get out from underneath him by flipping us over is thwarted but I didn’t actually, really try because the pressure inside me is intensifying and Eric seems to instinctively pick up on that, he grinds his hips against me and the little bit of friction is enough to distract me. There is something to be said about making out in the morning, still somewhat sleepy and slow, and it helps distract me from the fact that I completely embarrassed myself last night.

Just as he slowly lifts up my leg to position himself there is a knock on the door, actually more of a persistent pounding with a fist that we both ignore because it’s not even six in the morning and we’re dead to the world. Or rather, the world is dead to us. To my dismay it doesn’t stop, it just gets louder and faster until it sounds like someone is actually kicking the door and Eric growls, pushes himself off the bed and hastily pulls on a pair of pants that do very little to hide what we were about to do. Combined with his messy hair, his naked torso and the patented death glare he looks downright edible and I decide to stay right where I am until he has drop kicked the intruder into the chasm and we can pick up where we left off.

Judging by the tone of his voice the chances of that are dwindling rapidly.

Two minutes later he comes back with an expression promising murder and mayhem, which is my second favorite after the one promising sex and right now that is the only one I really want to see. For a moment he gets my hopes up when he pulls his pants down, but only to stomp into the bathroom and take a quick shower. I guess that is my cue to get up as well and I decide to head into the kitchen to get the coffee going, not bothering to put on any clothes since I will take a shower in approximately two minutes because Eric is very efficient when I’m not distracting him.

The sound of a throat clearing somewhere behind me nearly has me drop the mug I just pulled out of the cupboard and I slowly turn around to see Four leaning against the wall by the door, trying his very best not to look even in my general direction.

“Good morning, sunshine,” I say loudly, deciding that now is not the time to run back into the bedroom like some embarrassed teen. I look like hell, my hair's a mess, there’s bruises everywhere and well, I’m naked, which could be the main source of his discomfort. Because you never quite lose certain traits of your Faction of origin and he is so obviously a Stiff that I’m surprised that most people don’t see it. “This has to be important if they send you here and Eric didn’t kill you for rudely interrupting us.”

There’s the hint of a smirk on his face that I can only see because Four hasn’t turned his head all the way to the opposite wall. Fucking hell, that guy needs to loosen up already, he’s been here for years.

“Factionless attacked a patrol squad right around where they took you, he wanted to know the moment anything happened in that sector so. Here I am.”

All thoughts of morning workouts in bed, showering, even breakfast are suddenly very unappealing to me. Without a word I head back towards the bedroom and bump right into Eric who is in the process of pulling a shirt over his carefully made up head. It’s astonishing how quickly he can get his hair into that odd shape, considering how it looked awfully curly just moments ago. When his head appears again through the hole in the fabric he raises an eyebrow at me.

“Not sure how I feel about my wife parading around naked in front of the Stiff.”

I smile the fakest smile I have ever smiled and pat his arm, making sure to slap the exposed skin hard enough to leave a red spot.

“I’m sure you’ll figure that out by the time I actually become your wife. Make sure you don't get any silly ideas about telling me what to do though, that knife in your throat would hurt like a bitch. Oh, coffee is ready.”

It takes five minutes to shower and get dressed, when I get back they have left already but it’s not like I don’t know where I will find them. So I grab my coffee and make my way to the control room, seeing two whole people on my way there. This getting up early business stinks worse than Amity.

Eric and Four are hunched over a screen, their voices barely audible over the chaos that has swept up the usually tranquil place and that is not helping my headache at all. I step over to them, barely avoiding another fucking Pedrad and if he had spilled my coffee I would have had no choice but to spill his blood. I swear, this family is like a pack of extremely annoying rats.

Four turns around at the sound of my swearing and waves me over, his expression suitable for an Abnegation funeral. Eric looks like a dog that has scented something delicious and vulnerable so I have at least an idea what might await me. He makes room for me as Four zooms in on a still of the surveillance footage they were looking at, honing in on a tall man with long, shaggy hair. There is no need for questions, even if their faces hadn't told me everything I needed to know, that ugly mug has been in enough of my nightmares.

“It's him.”

I haven't even uttered the second word when Eric springs into action, barking at a few  waiting soldiers to gear up and get the rest of their team if they don't want a lifetime of night shifts at the fence. Before he leaves he turns towards me and smirks.

“Told you. Guess you'll have to talk to Max by yourself. I'll be back this afternoon.”

I know better than to protest, time is running out and I'm in no shape to go back out there again. Going against all better judgement I grab the front of his vest and pull him towards me for a kiss, which has nothing to do with the knowledge that he will be facing the guy that held me captive very, very shortly.

“You better get back in one piece. If I’m forced to marry anyone else in this shitbucket we might as well blow up the entire compound right now.”

With a sardonic smirk Eric closes the distance between us, kisses me in a way that has me on my toes with tangled up insides within seconds, and leaves me with a slap on the ass. Not another word is spoken, and I watch him saunter off, barking orders.

“So it’s actually true. We’re all so fucked.”

I whip around and glower at Zeke, but before I can unleash my fury on the kid Four slides into view, pointing at the door. “Max wants to see you, if you hurry you can get back here and watch, I’ll get you more coffee.”

He would make such a great mother, it’s not even funny. Speaking of, I have been ignoring several messages from mine, and I guess I’ve been back for a while and haven’t talked to her yet. We have not had the best relationship a mother and daughter could have. Muttering a few curses about the overall unfair state of the universe I spin around and stomp out of the room, pointedly ignoring Pedrad and his buddies moaning about the impending end of our world.

[spiteandalice]

Judas Touch pt. 6

ONCE AGAIN. This is my third attempt at posting this stupid chapter and if it fails again I will call you all personally and read it to you because I have officially given up on trying to do the internet. To make up for a month without anything I have decided to post everything I have so there.

@beltz2016 @beautifulramblingbrains @kenzieam and if I have forgotten you I am sorry, my brain has more holes than a colander.

THIS CONTAINS SMUT, VIOLENCE, LANGUAGE AND MENTIONS OF TORTURE AND PHOBIAS. Proceed with caution, mkay.

Hold on to your hats people because we seem to be switching gears throughout this chapter. Enjoy. That is an order.

PART ONE PART TWO PART THREE PART FOUR PART FIVE

The next day is beyond interesting, Eric refuses to acknowledge my existence like the big child he is just because I tried to steal his assistant. Let me be clear, I did no such thing. I did message her if she knew someone who would fit my standards for an assistant, which basically are… someone exactly like her. Being a leader's assistant is a coveted job in most factions and in Dauntless it is one of the few ways for those with lower initiation ranks to rise up. It's not a job that involves active duty of any kind and we do try to keep those with better combat skills in jobs that require them.

But there is the slight problem of our personalities and Eric changed  assistants like some their underwear - once every few weeks.

Being the insufferable snoop he is he saw my message and freaked out just a tiny bit, which amused me because I'm still on bed rest and in desperate need of entertainment. I even rifled through his book collection, but after war strategies, human psychology and a well loved book about a tower in a field of roses that are all somehow universes I'm done with printed words for the next decade or two. Reading is not something I generally enjoy doing, it requires a level of staticity I am not willing to commit to. I'm Dauntless, I'm too restless to sit still and focus on a book.

Some lower life form brought my brand new tablet so I can work, Max sent me a few notes on various subjects that require my immediate attention and Four keeps me updated on the initiation process which is as sad as ever.

In other words, I am completely and utterly bored out of my skull.

There is a knock on the door around noon and I get excited for a moment before I remember that an intruder probably wouldn’t knock to alert me to their presence. Maybe they would kick the door in. I grab my gun anyway and make my way to the door, remembering way too late that I am in my standard issue tank top and not-so-standard issue… shorts. Eric replaced the ones he tore off me while I attempted to work out the other night and said something about me better not going anywhere in those. Which, of course, had me contemplate parading around in them through the entire compound.

Ripping the door open I get ready to snarl but it’s just Raven, so I drop my gun that was pointed directly at her forehead and step aside. You can tell that she has been working for Eric for a while because she doesn’t even flinch, just breathes slowly and I swear she is almost smirking.

“Eric asked me to bring you some lunch. He’s expecting the test results back from Erudite this afternoon.”

She holds out a tray of dubious food related items, a half wilted salad, a protein bar Erudite claims is the best nutrition ever but that tastes like the chopped up soles of old boots, and a browning fruit salad. Why is there no such thing as good food in this blasted faction? That’s right, because we get all the stuff that doesn’t go bad within moments. I kind of miss Amity. Then my eyes travel back to her face and I lift an eyebrow.

“So he’s still pissed, huh.”

Something akin to amusement quickly flashes across her face, and I admire this woman because around Eric that poker face must come in so incredibly handy when he is throwing one of his tantrums and you can’t help but find it ridiculous, which in turn causes him to try and kill you if you are not me. He usually just tries to fuck me when he gets livid, which some would say is an advantage. Angry Eric is a force to be reckoned with, unless he's buried to the hilt inside you. Or especially when. Depends on my mood.

“If I were suicidal I would say when is he ever not, but if you are referring to your particular situation then yes. He punched a fence guard in the face this morning for stuttering.”

Ah. Well. Maybe my actions have consequences and now that I am a leading leader type of person I should think about the things I inflict upon the people around me. But I can’t be solely responsible for keeping Eric in a good mood, sometimes the sun shining too much or not enough seems to aggravate him greatly and as important as I find myself sometimes, there is no way I can tell the sun what to do. But I can try, I guess.

“Well. I’m sorry, I guess. Do you want to spend your lunch break here? If you keep me company you are guaranteed that you won’t be seeing him at least during your break.”

Raven smiles at me and gingerly steps into the living area, making it very obvious that she is trying not to look around too much. I guess it is weird to be in the home of the guy you work for, without his permission. Which may or may not piss him off even further.

My tablet beeps and I roll my eyes. Ten credits say that…

Why the fuck is she in my apartment

Rolling my eyes again, this is going to give me a massive headache, I flop down on the couch and type my reply.

I thought it was OUR apartment

I’m not sharing her with you

Don’t worry, not my thing

Mina.

I’m not stealing her. We’re talking. About things. Not you. I'm fucking bored and craving human interaction. Stop watching me you perverted asshole

There is silence after that and when I look up Raven is watching me with a broad grin on her face.

“You’re both looking like you’re on peace serum when you’re talking to each other, it’s kind of cute. Weird and freaky, but cute.”

I pretend to throw my tablet at her head and she laughs, maybe I can make her forget that I’m doing her boss or that this is his place, technically, and that the spot on the couch she sits in has probably seen more of both our naked asses than the training room showers.

“I’m sure he’ll be delighted to a about that.  Maybe Erudite can do something useful for once and completely destroy the nerves in my face so I can’t move a single muscle.”

While Raven pulls an apple out of her pocket I begin to dissect the salad like substance in front of me. There are tomatoes in there, which tells me that this is not your regular salad from the mess hall because we don't usually get those in the winter, they are grown in experimental greenhouses the Erudite built. And there is a good dose of chicken in this salad, not exactly uncommon here, but also egg and what looks like cheese. The nurse said something about better food and I guess a certain someone listened. I know I sure as hell didn't.

“The lady doth protest too much, methinks.”

My eyes snap to her and try to burn holes into hers as I growl but she isn't at all impressed. No wonder Eric loves her, she must be a transfer from his old home. For a moment I study her, fascinated by her composure and the way her hair is braided into tiny little braids. Before I can get distracted any further I straighten up and try my best scowl on her, which usually inspires terror in lesser beings. Raven just chuckles.

“You’re a transfer, too?”

Now she outright laughs at me and throws her hands up.

“What gave it away?”

“I like you. For some reason I am drawn to transfers, especially you no-good, brainy Erudites. Quoting Shakespeare doesn’t help you conceal it, either.”

It’s her turn to look at me like I just sprouted a second head right between my eyes.

“But you know who Shakespeare is and can identify a quote? He’s been dead for hundreds o years and outside of Erudite I’m pretty sure nobody has ever heard of the guy. Pretty boring, actually.”

I shrug and attack a piece of chicken, which is unfortunately half covered in something green and slightly slimey. If that is avocado then Eric and I are going to have to have words, once they served this to me in Erudite, where they have avocado plants absolutely everywhere apparently, because it is such a nutritious plant and healthy and good for your brain or something, but we can’t get it here because it’s not worth it. You have a window of about five minutes between rock solid and rotten where these things are edible, but they are delicious.

And it is avocado. Mother. Fucker.

“I could tell you that Eric likes reciting poetry, but before my tablet goes off… like I said, I seem to hang out with the transfers and no matter how much I try, some stuff just starts to rub off. There was a guy in my initiation class that liked to say that. Insufferable moron.”

My sole mission now is picking out the avocado and tomato bits while I ignore the sad green leaves, spinach and whatever else kind of garbage the rest is. If I’m spoiled with actual food I can’t just sit here and pretend I don’t hate the rest of it, life is too short.

“Really, what happened to him? I wonder if I know him, I’m only two years behind you.”

With a smug grin I stop the fork halfway to my mouth and sigh inwardly because this being social is seriously hindering my eating habits, which have previously been described as disgusting, gross and likened to various animals.

“He came in second. Yet another problem Erudite boys are having. I will stop making comparisons there for my own safety and your brain,” I pause to acknowledge her mouthing ‘thank you’ by raising my eyebrow at her, “and his ego never quite survived that blow. He wanted to join the fence guards but is leading one of our surveillance teams out in the city. His name’s Blaze. Formerly known as Balthasar.”

That name still gives me the giggles. We could have turned into sworn enemies like Four and Eric, who at this point remind me of two old neighbor dogs that snarl at each other out of habit, none of them really able to remember why they are supposed to hate each other in the first place. Or we could have turned into lovers, something I could also see with the other two but please don’t mention that to Eric. Instead we ended somewhere in between, we tried hooking up twice during initiation and decided we were quite compatible but not enough to make it interesting, it ended up feeling like fucking my brother who happens to be into the same kinks.

Eric can’t stand him, of course.

But, as it so happens, blaze is one of the very few people that I consider a friend, most of them are coincidentally male and most of them have shared a bed with me once upon a time. Or a wall. A surface. You know what I mean. Women and I never seem to get along, but Raven is a nice exception to the rule. If I can’t steal her, well, I think her and I could team up and strive to make Eric’s life hell. My day just got a lot brighter.

“I think I know who you’re talking about, pretty tall, mohawk, a dragon tattooed on the side of his head? His parents must have known he was Dauntless since he started to walk. That guy probably hasn’t touched a book his entire life.”

Oh Raven, you would be surprised. Much like someone else I won’t name, Blaze is still very fond of his books and keeps a stash of them under his bed. I’m not sure if this applies to all transfers, but it seems that most of them keep just a smidge of the Faction they were born into, no matter how long ago they transferred.

We talk some more, about things that happened while I was gone - Eric hired Raven after the previous assistant threatened to jump into the chasm and was talked out of it by Four, Eric wrecked three doors in his first week after she started, a month after my apparent death. You know. Fun little tidbits - and about looking as Dauntless as possible. Raven is shocked that I don’t buy anything but the standard uniform stuff and I am shocked that she has never gotten a tattoo. Granted, her skin is almost as dark as our clothes, but when she says she has never even gotten a piercing I am positively outraged and promise to drag her off to get something done.

In the end she has to go back at some point and leave me alone in this boring little prison, even though I have to admit that it is a lot better than the one I was locked up in before. Eric doesn’t show up until eight in the evening, carrying his tablet like it is about to explode.

“So?”

He barely glances at me before frowning at his screen, but I can see his eyes roll upward ever so slightly. Public Eric is back in full force and he doesn’t want me to see that he is as nervous as I am. Probably. Did I mention that I suck at this human interaction thing? It’s a lot easier if you don’t give a shit about what they are thinking about you, to be quite honest. And he is far from the ideal practice subject because he is as easy to read as some of the books Erudite keeps that are written in long dead languages.

“I obviously waited to open the message until I got here.”

Obviously. Asshole. Resisting the urge to hit him in the head, probably breaking my hand on his thick skull in the process, I sit up instead when he walks up to me and sits down at the very edge of the couch, looking as if he is about to flee. Which he probably is. Wordlessly he opens the message and doesn’t bother to look at me again, he probably feels my breath on his neck when I lean in to read over his shoulder.

Not pregnant.

Great. Right? It’s a good thing. I mean. We’re clearly not ready to be parents, I’m pretty sure I will remain in that category until I die. People as messed up as we are shouldn’t have children and I just got back from being tortured and nearly starved to death so this is a very, very good thing. Why am I suddenly feeling weird? There is a little pull in my stomach that makes me uneasy, almost as if a part of me hadn’t minded the idea of becoming a mother. Or rather, the mother of a child of Eric.

Before I can say or do anything stupid I get up to get dressed, this is not something you think about, you better drink about it. And since I am not knocked up my bedrest should not apply anymore.

I actually did buy a skirt when I got my new clothes, crazy me, and before I can change my mind I pull off the shorts and pull up the very short and very tight skirt, not bothering to change otherwise. Without a single word or glance towards Eric I leave and make my way down to the Pit, ready to drink myself into a stupor and then, maybe then, figuring out what to do next.

Two hours later I feel pleasantly buzzed. Which is a lie because everything around me is spinning but I hold on to the bar, glare at the moron who tried to refuse to give me another drink, and casually elbow a guy next to me that doesn't quite understand that I am not interested in going back to his place - which is a matter so important to him that it was the first thing he said to me. Now he hisses and calls me a bitch but still slides right back next to me. His friend tries to get him to leave - for the third time - but buddy here is painfully slow at understanding all the subtle hints.

“Come on, man. You really don't want to mess with her. Eric will kill you.”

Oho. So it's totally okay to harass drunk women if they're single or seeing someone less intimidating? I'm mentally preparing to give a speech, even going as far as putting a hand on my hip and drawing in a deep breath that makes my head spin even worse, but the guy decides to put an arm around my neck and pulls me even closer. I barely hear him slimily state that my boyfriend isn't here because I think about a tall factionless man grabbing me from behind and holding me just like that while his friends beat me to a pulp. But this time I'm not sedated and before I can register that I am in the Pit and not some long abandoned building I have slammed the back of my head into his nose, turned us around and flipped him over my shoulder. Panting heavily I stare at his bleeding face, my boot on his neck ready to stomp out his lights when I feel someone behind me and tense, ready to attack.

“This is why I didn't do anything, Peter, I don't know why his friend was worried about me. Mina can handle herself and I think she's even more dangerous than I could be, especially considering that she drank half the bar at this point.”

That smug bastard probably enjoyed the show. When I slowly turn around the world is tilting to the right but I manage to adjust just fine. Eric is leaning against the bar, arms crossed and looking like a man casually observing some fucking clouds with a friend that thinks every second one looks like a tit. He is cold and cruel as ever, and I don't want to be here. Too many people that are too close and that makes me want to scream and kick until they go away.

Something must have given it away, because Eric drops his cold grin and steps up to me, frowning when I flinch away from him. My skin is crawling with invisible insects, ghosts of the not too distant past that are recurring stars of my nightmares. Eric puts an arm on my shoulder and it takes all my strength not to punch him for it.

“Are you okay?”

Of course I'm not okay. That's what I want to yell, but I also want to be sarcastic and tell him that I have never been better. But my tongue is strangely dry and swollen and I can taste bile, giving me the distinct feeling that someone replaced my tongue with a dead slug. So I just look at him, hope I don't look as panicked as I feel, and shake my head just slightly.

Suddenly he pulls me closer and my hands fly up automatically to fight him off, but Eric whispers in my ear to play along. Because if he carries me out of here having a panic attack I will look weak, that's bad whether you are a leader or not. But if we start to make out after I just punched a guy that got too handsy? People will most likely cheer.

And they actually do. Morons.

Eric doesn't put me down until we are home and I immediately want to take my clothes off, feeling the need to take a shower. Somewhere on the way I began to talk, about the ambush, about getting shot and stabbed and abandoned by my own team. About dark basements and fever and infections. About cold water in freezing temperatures soaking my clothes. About sedatives and beatings and endless questions I never answered. About being covered in spiders and all kinds of bugs and being too weak to even try to brush them off. About death and thinking about it coming for me so much it became all there was. About being too tired to cry. And about hate, festering and swelling like a bloating corpse until it bursts, consuming everything else until there is nothing but rage, giving you the strength you didn't know you still had left.

Eric doesn't say a word. He carries me home and sits with me on his lap until I'm done. There is absolutely no expression on his face but I can see something shift in his eyes and my drunk mind wonders if that insane level of hatred that's scared me so much is contagious, like some nasty virus that spreads slowly and kills everything in it's path.

But then he carries me into the bathroom and, ignoring my protests, takes off my clothes before stripping down himself and turning on the shower. The water is so hot that the mirror fogs up almost instantly but I'm still shaking when he lifts me into the tub, making me wonder if the cold will ever really leave my body or if it will stay inside my bones until I die.

We stay until I stop shaking and only then does he remove his arms to turn away and shut the water off, leaving me standing all by myself and I hate that more than I want to admit. Suddenly I feel tired, drained and boneless but before I can slip down into a pathetic pile of limbs Eric is back, wrapping a towel around me and carrying me to the bed. Our bed. I crawl under the covers and when he doesn't follow I want to whimper like a scared child. It would be easy to blame this on the alcohol, but the truth is… all it does is let me be vulnerable for once. It was one of my worst fears. Humiliation, not being in control. Darkness. Confined spaces. Insects and birds, those sketchy assholes. I could deal with all of those. But being vulnerable was the worst, it almost cost me my first rank.

When he finally returns I feel relieved, and I notice a low humming in the background. Eric turned on the heat and that is such a thoughtful little gesture it almost makes me cry. Instead of rolling to the side I stay on my back and pull him on top of me, I want to forget for at least a little while. Our kiss is almost desperate but we keep things unusually slow, when Eric begins to kiss a trail down from my neck and across my breasts I almost growl with impatience, but he doesn't stop or speed things up. Instead he seems intent on covering every inch of my skin with his lips, saving the best for last. By the time he buries his head between my legs I'm wound so tight I feel like I'm about to explode but that kind of slow torture is very much acceptable as it turns out. Eric has me howling and screaming with a few slow strokes of his tongue and when he pushes two fingers into me I grab the sheet underneath me and scream, not at all deterred by the smug grin I can feel against my skin.

Before I can even catch a breath, much less think about returning the favor, Eric is on top of me and moaning into my mouth when our tongues find each other, my taste still on his lips. All it takes is for me to wrap my legs around his waist and he is inside me, I never had time to ponder just how well our bodies fit, especially in this position. We are usually fighting for the upper hand, clawing and biting and wrestling until we both collapse. This time we're slow, holding each other close, but it's not less intense. Maybe even more so. There is a strange undercurrent that wasn't there before but I'm too busy focusing on him, on us. Then our foreheads touch, both covered in a thin layer of sweat that would honestly disgust me otherwise, and we enter in what I have to describe as an intense staring match. We are both quiet, there is an occasional hiss or a low groan, but it is far from our usual athletics.

My orgasm leaves me literally speechless and I would be embarrassed about looking like a fish on land, mouth wide open and all, but he looks just as ridiculous. It’s ferocious in it’s own way and we both collapse, limbs tangled in that awful way i have gotten so used to already. Maybe I can sleep now, at least for a little bit. Before I drift off I think I hear Eric speak but that might just be my tired brain and the alcohol conspiring against me, although they manage to keep Eric wonderfully in character.

“I’m going to get you the guy’s head as a wedding present.”

Yeah, you do that. I’ll be here, sleeping.

[spiteandalice]

Judas Touch Pt 5

Sincerest apologies for my scatterbrain. Whenever I sit down to write this my brain goes BUT WHAT IF DAUNTLESS WERE WEREWOLVES! WRITE THAT! Or I get ideas for the second story which is actually my first that I never continued past the basic outlines. 

SMUT warning, language warning and also violence warning because this character has a lot of violent thoughts.

tagging, as per request: @beautifulramblingbrains @beltz2016

PART ONE PART TWO PART THREE PART FOUR Fuck Eric and his stupid face. Fuck Max. Fuck the fucking infirmary and all the wretched staff. They conspired against me and that is so not appreciated. I fell asleep on the ride back and when I woke up I was in the infirmary. Handcuffed to a cot and sedated. For my own good. The second I get out of these cuffs I will be leaving a trail of limbs behind all the way to the leadership offices.

Lucy, my nurse who is most definitely strung out on Amity serum, comes in with that chipper smile and bounce in her step that instantly sets my teeth on edge. She is the one that informed me that they had to run some tests before giving me a healing serum or anything other than small doses of the harmless painkillers half of our faction eats like candy. Because, you see, I had unprotected intercourse and could be pregnant.

For that alone I will cut off his balls with a rusty butter knife.

“Doing good I see. We will get you some good food in a bit, you need more nutritious meals in your diet after what you've been through, especially given the circumstances.”

She smiles at me as if we were best friends talking about our crushes during a sleepover. If she tries to braid my hair or paint my nails I will put her head through the nearest wall.

“But first, you have a visitor. Quite a few, actually, but you're supposed to rest. Can't send Max away though so he'll be in shortly.”

“I think we should take that rest thing very seriously, don't you think. Just have someone shoot everyone that tries to disturb me. Even better, just give me my gun.”

That giggle is the most terrifying thing I have ever heard and I have heard my own bones break.

Unfortunately my suggestion fell on deaf ears, because Max strolls in minutes later, looking like the pompous ass that he is. They have some strange birds out in Amity that are strutting around as if they owned the place and I named the fattest of them Max. They roasted him during my last ambassador visit and he was rather tasty.

“Mina, it is good to see you are up….” Max has one of those faces that seem completely blank at times, making it a bitch to read for me. But he looks at my cuffed wrist and chuckles, that isn't hard to decipher. Dauntless men are a bunch of sexist pigs. “Eric enjoyed that a little too much.”

“Yeah, wait until I get out of here, he will find that even more enjoyable.”

Our grand leader raises an eyebrow at me and instantly makes me feel like a child throwing a tantrum, which I can ignore like a pro. I was raised by the most intimidating bitch this faction has seen before I came along, he has nothing on that. Max strolls over to the tiny window with his hands clasped behind his back, something I feel he would have picked up from an old book if I thought he was truly capable of reading. We are not the brainy faction and reading is somewhat of a shameful little vice people do behind closed doors - funny, because I can’t count all the semi-public blowjobs I’ve walked past in my years here.

“I realize that I shouldn't have sent you out so soon, so part of this mess is on me. You were absolutely reckless and ill prepared to deal with surprises. Never, ever go out on a mission without your phone, Mina, that's one of the first things we teach our fledgling soldiers. You need a way to contact us at all times in case the radio fails. How you didn't think about having one of your team get back to us… it shows me that you aren't fully ready to lead our groups out there.”

I open my mouth, ready to start the angry retorts, but he holds up his hand.  Without even fucking looking at me, how creepy is that?

“However… you handled yourself well, given the circumstances. All of yours came back relatively unharmed. Which, of course, is a testament to their training as much as your leadership. I realize that you have been through a lot lately, which is why you will continue to focus on our initiates for now. It will take two days for the test results to come back, you will rest until then. We will decide how to proceed after we have news on your… status. Although, to be honest, it's about damn time. The new ruling was passed just around the time you disappeared so we cut Eric some slack, but since you are back, well.  That saves us some time.”

I'm not often speechless but I'm positively dumbstruck. What the actual fuck? He is the one who sent me on this supposedly easy trip. Just days after I got back from being tortured and all that fun shit. Now he's telling me I'm not fit to do my job? That is rich. And not one word about the patron saint of sanctimonious assclowns who decided that I was some fucking damsel in distress? That Nose has read way too many old books about knights and secretly virtuous bandits saving helpless womenfolk in need. And then… hold on.

“What new ruling?”

It is nearly impossible to look any more condescending than Max right now, but he seems to remember that I've only been back for a few days and can't possibly be up to speed on everything that has been going on.

“There's been talk about how to improve birth rates, they are low all across the board. It's now a prerequisite for leaders and higher ranking members of all factions to be married and have children. Ideally before they are chosen, which doesn't apply to those already holding a position when the ruling came to effect, of course. They have a certain time frame to find a suitable partner, which was suspended in Eric’s case due to his age and circumstances back then. And we made an exception for you for now since it's only a matter of time that you two make it official, especially if you really are pregnant already. Two birds, one stone.”

And with the most aggravating smug expression he drops some papers onto my bed and saunters away.

Yep, going to kill them. All of them. Slowly.

In what has to be one of the most amateur moves of the century Max actually left stacks of paperwork held together by paperclips. I was born Dauntless, we handcuffed each other for fun in daycare to see who could get out the fastest.

So I am currently on my way to my alleged betrothed, head held high as I limp around the compound barefoot and bruised in nothing but sweatpants and a tank top. People move out of the way in spite of my pathetic appearance because hell hath no fury like a Dauntless woman on her way to smite patriarchy.

The raven haired chick that's supposed to be Eric’s assistant doesn't even bother to try and stop me so I make a point of remembering her name.  Raven, oh dear. But Raven shall receive a generous gift basket soon. Maybe we'll share it sitting on a pile of heads. She inclines her head towards the closed door and smirks at me, I can hear him snarl at someone. This should be good.

There is a certain beauty in the sound a door makes when it is opened so forcefully it ricochets off the wall, even more beautiful when it's accompanied by the various sounds of shock a group of five already intimidated grown men is capable of producing. I look them over and growl.

“Out. NOW!”

They scurry away like spooked little kittens before Eric can say anything to the contrary and I silently dare the little bastard to say something. To give me one more reason to fucking maim him. But he doesn’t, merely looks at me with that cold, slightly disgusted look of his he bestows on mortals. Asshole.

“You’re supposed to be in bed.”

“What did you say? You want me to crush your skull? That can definitely be arranged.”

As an afterthought I kick the door shut, I can at least pretend that we are trying to keep this quiet. At this point I don’t care if we do this in the middle of the Pit on a Saturday night, since everyone is up in my business already anyway.

“You’re acting like a fucking child.”

He is still sitting behind his desk, arms folded in front of him, looking strangely tense. Eric is always so nonchalant, even when he gets angry, but this is different. Not that he would like it if I let on to seeing the difference, he likes to be the unreadable one. The aloof leader. My ass.

Even though moving hurts, a lot, I manage to hobble to his desk and shove it towards him. It’s relatively solid, but I know that one of the legs on his side has been wobbly since I spent some time bent over the thing, it was shaking considerably. Luck is on my side and the leg breaks, sending his computer and neat stacks of paperwork flying.

Finally, a reaction.

Grinding his teeth hard enough for me to hear Eric slowly rises out of his chair and fixates me with his patented stare that is supposed to make me submit on the spot. All it does is annoy me, and make me a little wet. His nostrils flare, too.

Maybe a little more than a little wet.

“So when were you going to tell me about your little schemes, there, leaderboy? Do you honestly think you could trick ME into this shit? I don’t want to get fucking married and I don’t want to breed, for fuck’s sake. They can take their leadership position and shove it up their collective asses for all I care, I’d rather go back to listening to Amity’s crop problems.”

The computer screen crunches under his boot because he is too busy staring at me having my outburst. This is usually more fun when the other party actually responds though, and he’s beginning to creep me out. Without a word he grabs me and slams me against the door, I think we’ve been here before, not too long ago. My brain isn’t working properly right now. Might be the lack of oxygen because he’s got a hand over my throat, pressing down just far enough to make my vision a little blurry around the edges. Might also be because the blood flow to my brain has been slowed down in favor of sending more blood rushing through my nether regions.

“I'm not tricking you into anything. You neglected to take care of birth control so I informed them of that. And you might not give a shit about your position but if I want to keep mine I have to get married and at least pretend to adhere to the new rules. Matter of fact, Jeanine has suggested a few suitable  candidates I didn't bother to look at yet.”

Of course she did. Something inside me tries to protest at the idea of Eric marrying some dumb Dauntless bimbo for appearances. Truly a dumb move because at this point nobody would believe that he actually wants her, not after… this. Maybe he has a point. I will not admit that even if it would save my life. It is a fact that he can’t stand about 99.9% of the population of this city and that is a very generous number, all things considered. The thought of having to share a place with someone, even just for appearances, makes my skin crawl. Married people don’t live in separate apartments, do they?

“So you didn’t try to knock me up on purpose?”

My words sound squeaky since he is still trying to strangle me. Eric still looks angry but he raises an eyebrow at me and something about his face is completely off. It’s not anger, there are several shades of that everyone here is very familiar with. It’s not lust, either, although somewhere deep inside he would probably not object to fucking me right now. Not quite sad, either. Disappointed? Why would he be disappointed.

“So you really think I would trick you like that.”

Eric has a talent for making it sound like he is not asking questions and that he wouldn’t be interested in the answer if people still took it as one. But I am beginning to realize that he wants me to trust him. After all, I sleep when he is around, more or less. I’m naked. Granted, I have developed a habit of waking up with my gun in my hand, but that is a recent development. So me assuming the worst, just like everyone else would, is pretty much the opposite of what he expects of me.

“Excuse me for not being able to read your fucking mind, I will get right to practicing that.”

I do notice that the pressure around my throat eases just that little bit that makes all the difference between life and death and I gasp, desperate to take advantage of the once again relatively unrestricted airflow. But Eric still has that strange look and it bothers me more than it probably should, being a friend with undeniable benefits and all. I sigh and try to gather my wits.

“Look. I’ve been kidnapped and tortured. I come back to this clusterfuck, am made a leader and almost killed once more, excuse me for being in a mindset where expecting the worst is kind of the thing to do. It has nothing to do with you, Eric.” There it is, his face looks a little less miserable, but that glimmer of hope hiding behind the frown is almost worse. Definitely worse is the urge to protect that little spark at all cost. “And I guess you are the best choice for this marriage bullshit, out of everyone I hate you the least and your chances of surviving the first three months are pretty good. I’ll think about it, alright. I just… need to sort through shit.”

If I didn’t knew any better I’d think he looks relieved, but it is quickly replaced with his trademark smirk. “I can work with that…” His hand yanks down my sweatpants and much to both our surprise I am not wearing anything underneath. Who the hell undressed me in the infirmary? They sure got an eye full. The new underwear I bought is uncomfortable and I’ve always preferred going commando, as they say.

Coming back to my senses I push off the wall and shove Eric backwards until he is in his chair again, before I can straddle him he has his pants unzipped and is ready for me to slip onto him. Not a single sound can be heard from inside this room as I lower myself slowly, torturing both of us inch by inch until I am fully seated and Eric grabs my hips, trying to urge me to move. It’s always like this, fast and hard and relentless but maybe I’m in the mood for something new. If the guy can fucking spoon me all night he can let me have this moment.

And he does, even though I can see he doesn’t like it much, at least not until I dip my head to catch his bottom lip between my teeth and lightly tug on it. It gives him something to focus on and the bruising grip on my hips loosens a little when I suck on his tongue, Eric even groans, a strangled little sound but it’s there. Another follows when I begin to slowly roll my hips, not lifting myself up at all but grinding against him instead.He wraps both arms around me and I half expect him to try and take charge, which he could easily do given his clear physical advantage. Instead he just leaves them around me, holding on to me and steadying me at the same time. It’s kind of nice.

Somewhere outside people are talking in hushed voices but I only hear them as if I’m under water somewhere, distorted and distant. All my focus is solidly tethered to where we are joined, my tightening muscles and the feeling of my skin sliding against his in a slow, hypnotizing rhythm. The friction of coarse hair against my sensitive flesh is soon gone, soothed by sweat and the wetness pooling at the apex of my thighs whenever he just so much as raises an eyebrow at me.

Then his phone rings and he holds up his hand. Is he fucking serious?

“It’s Jeanine.”

Of course he is fucking serious. I watch, undoubtedly with my mouth wide open, as he picks the damn thing up and greets that witch, at least he has the decency to sound annoyed. Good, he is currently balls deep in his probably, maybe future wife.

“Eric. You still have not answered my message so i decided to be a little more proactive, after checking your schedule I saw that you have an opening right now. The most suitable candidate i personally picked should arrive at your office any moment…”

My eyes widen but before I can snatch the phone away eric blocks me with his free arm and scowls at me. In response I tighten my muscles and he hisses.

“No need for that Jeanine, you know that.”

Good boy. I begin to slightly rock my hips back and forth, thoroughly enjoying his grimace. And I am very much looking forward to his retaliation as soon as he gets off the phone.

“Please don’t tell me you are still hanging on to the foolish notion that that savage woman is a good match for you. If you think that you have to, given the circumstances, I can evaluate the test personally, I’ll have someone bring her samples up to me this instant. Even if she should be pregnant, we could…”

Within seconds Eric’s face switches from mildly annoyed to murderous.

“Don’t even say that. My answer has been, is, and will be no, no matter how often you bring this up. I am very happy to accommodate you on a professional level, but this concerns my private life and I decide who I marry, if I do and when.”

This man is a god and I don’t think I have ever liked him more than in this very second when he is telling my least favorite person in existence to shove her ideas up her ass. Which, considering how stuck up she is, should be ready to burst already with all the sticks up there. I grind my hips harder and Eric growls, but he is grinning at me.

The Matthews woman is going on about how, as a leader, he has a duty to his faction 24/7 and how the perfect match for him should reflect him in the best way possible but I can tell he lost all interest in the conversation a while ago.

“I’ll have to let you go, I am currently in a meeting with a very savage woman that is demanding my attention. Have your assistant contact my assistant about our next official meeting. I’m done with this bullshit.”

And he hangs up, drops his phone to the floor and gets up, all within seconds. I’m firmly wrapped around him and not sure if he’s grinning or snarling, but I don’t think even he is very sure about that.

“You fucking bitch”, he hisses and sends shivers down my spine, that man has a way with words that makes at least this savage woman swoon.

There is some rustling and crashing as he flings away things that have fallen off his toppled desk to make room on the floor, I may or may not be laughing about his urgency, but once he has me on the floor and the admittedly pretty loud sound of flesh slapping against flesh can be heard that laughing turns into barely muffled moans and it doesn’t take long before we both cry out in unison, muffled by each other’s necks, jaws locked and tender flesh caught between our teeth like two dogs fighting over a bone. We will be walking around with teeth marks, both of us, but that is nothing new. Maybe we can make that our form of engagement thing, most here get a tattoo when married and do a little trinket exchange before that to signal that they are off the market. I like this better, the skin on my neck an angry red, teeth indentations clearly visible, a little bit of blood trickling down.

When we stumble out of his office, both in a suspiciously good mood, me pulling up my pants, he just zipping up his, Raven sits behind her desk and bites into her fist, barely hiding her amusement. There is a girl, and she is really barely more than that, sitting on a chair waiting, wearing her best little dress and too much makeup. Eric looks her over and mutters a ”Hell, no.” that, embarrassingly enough, makes me giggle. Which, in turn, makes him smirk at me and slap my ass. I guess we’re doing that thing with touching in front of others now?

Raven leans forward and clears her throat. “Sir, I will call maintenance to have someone check your intercom since it doesn’t turn off anymore.”

I look at Eric, he looks at me. So… they could hear everything. Every muttered curse, every slap, every hiss. I shrug, he grins. I was born without the part of the brain that lets you feel embarrassment.

“Thank you, Raven. Take the afternoon off, clear my schedule.”

And with that he throws me over his shoulder and walks towards his apartment. Our apartment. For once I’m not inclined to protest, instead I practice my regal wave when he passes a group of gawking initiates.

PART SIX

[spiteandalice]

Judas Touch Pt. 4

Yeah, yeah, I’m an asshole that never updates because life sucks and I’m not writing anything else, absolutely not. If it helps any, I roleplay on another platform and people have been waiting for my replies for EVER. I know it doesn’t, but I tried.

This contains language and a bit of violence, not really smut (spoiler alert). Sorry.

@beautifulramblingbrains and @beltz2016

PART ONE PART TWO PART THREE

The next morning is a day off and I wake up half buried under a mountain of hair and muscles - I’m on my back and Eric is half on top of me, his face in the crook of my neck. Even worse, both my arms are wrapped around him and even though my neck hurts I don’t really feel like moving. It’s as if we had this unspoken rule about no touching and since that was broken by a stupid foot hooked over my leg all bets are off now. And I’m not sure if I mind or not. Not yet.

Well, actually, I need to pee and my neck really does hurt like a bitch. Not to mention all the cuts and bruises that are still healing. I try to sort of wiggle out from underneath him, which he immediately reacts to by grinding his hips against me. We are both naked and I can feel him harden against the inside of my thigh.

“Don’t even think about it, I need to get ready for my appointment. You know, the one with the birth control shot.”

Eric grumbles and I realize that this is the second time I’m awake before him. Usually he would be sitting in the kitchen going over paperwork because Mr. Posterboy never takes a day off. It’s beneath him to have a life outside of leadership duties, actually having a life is for peasants, not robots. Although I’m beginning to think that he just didn’t have anything better to do with his time. Maybe.

“Any plans for today?”

 The way he lazily stretches and refuses to roll off me admittedly does things to me and I am half resigned to giving in to a different primal urge before leaving the bed. I mean, it wouldn’t be so bad to have a quickie right about now. Except that our quickies aren’t always so quick, at least not when we’re not pressed for time or have to worry about getting caught like that one time in the Pit.

“Going back to bed as soon as they poked me with that needle, probably. I kind of enjoy a bed and sheets and all of that.”

I feel him frown against my skin, we have yet to discuss the finer details of my captivity. Eric wasn’t around for my questioning after I came back. Which is strange, because the other leaders were there, although I suspect that that was not at all coincidental. Either he kept himself away or Max did, for everyone’s safety... And I’m sure he has seen the transcripts, if not the actual video footage they surely kept for posterity. Anyway, I’m not about to discuss that with him, not like this, not ever. Eric bites my neck and I slap his shoulder, feeling him chuckle more than hearing it.

Maybe I’m going soft but this is something I’m not entirely opposed to happening again. But not now. Not when I need to make sure I don’t get pregnant. It’s not technically something I am supposed to be doing, since older Dauntless are supposed to multiply like rabbits unless there is a valid medical reason for it, but given my recent trauma I was granted an extension of that courtesy. Now that I’m a leader there will be more pressure about breeding, something Eric is only vaguely subjected to because he doesn’t have a womb. Funny how that goes, isn’t it.

On my way to the infirmary, one of the first routes most Dauntless memorize along with the training room, dorms and feeding hole, a lackey stops me, looking quite agitated.

“Max needs to speak to you, he’s in the conference room.”

Rolling my eyes I send a quick message to move my appointment to a later time slot for the day and swerve around a few mingling Dauntless to get to the conference room overlooking the stupid Pit. One of the milling people is Four and I briefly nod at him before I realize he is coming in as well. This can’t be good. At all. For a moment I consider kind of rubbing against him, just to see if Eric can smell his arch nemesis on me and if he would react in a way that would be beneficial for myself. Again, angry sex is the best we usually have. At least one of us usually is, anyway.

Instead there is talk about a Factionless problem, a relatively small group has assembled and is moving towards Amity. Apparently they are armed and our guards out there are completely useless, as usual. After just a brief back and forth, Max wanted my input because I was often out there as ambassador, I am voluntold to lead a squad that will go out there, kick some ass, and get shit done. Four strongly protests my involvement because I can “barely hold myself upright” as he said. I raise an eyebrow at him as I glare, with my arms crossed and he mutters something that could be “creepy”. My humble request to get a cape and some theme song blasting as we drive is denied with a stern look, so I go suit up and head out within less than fifteen minutes. There wasn’t any time to inform Eric, which has nothing to do with the fact that he would have come stomping across the compound to physically drag me away from the armored truck and chain me to his bed. I mean, no complaints about the second part, but under different circumstances. I don’t really want to be out there, but safety in numbers, right? Last time I was traveling by myself. Now we’re ten highly specialized and well trained soldiers, what could go wrong.

As it turns out, a lot.

 The small gathering with a potential for unrest has quickly morphed into a fairly large mingling of shouting people and quite a few of them are armed and not at all happy to see us. We spread out to circle them, they have congregated in an abandoned warehouse district because of course they did, and we all pull off strategic moves like this in our sleep. That is, unless someone has to piss on our parade. That’s right, piss. This is much more disgusting than mere rain.

“Mina, watch the rooftops, I’m seeing movement up there.”

Four is in one of the trucks, a surveillance unit, keeping track of anything. It has paid off in the past, the Erudites have revived some ancient technology and brought it up to modern standards. So now we have cameras that pick up on body heat that are mobile and zip around overhead, which is nice.

Seconds later I hear the first screams, and the fact that I could put names and faces to those voices that drift over to me through the noise of gunshots is making my stomach turn.

“Take cover, for fuck’s sake!”

I duck into a gaping hole that used to be a loading bay and look around, waiting for the snipers to show themselves. One is dumb enough to show his head and I take him out with my rifle.  Killing off my team ruined my already sour mood and I forget about not wanting to be out here, or being the last one standing so they can drag me back to their stupid leader for some more torture. Not gonna happen, not today or ever. Assholes.

“Status report, you fuckers better be alive or I’m going to personally drag you out of hell!”

One after the other they pipe up, two reporting minor injuries, but nothing they can’t walk off. Well, Alex might have some problems with that because the idiot got shot in the leg. Seriously.

After some back and forth we agree to rendezvous at a building just north of this clusterfuck, because at this point I’m not entirely certain that some moron isn’t listening in to our conversations. If the Factionless have guns, who knows what else they have? Most of them weren’t born into this, they bring a mixed bag of knowledge from their Factions of birth with them and Matthews can ramble about her insanely paranoid bullshit all she wants, she can’t tell me that having this disenfranchised group of pissed off people gathered unsupervised somewhere in the city is a great idea. But I’m not stupid enough to think that anyone would listen to me even now, as a leader.

Alex limps in last, held up by Tyler, and we huddle together. We briefly discuss our options when I hear an explosion. Because of course they are blowing shit up now, when has anything ever been easy? The entrance to the building crumbles and we are temporarily blinded by dust. I try to radio Four but communication has been cut off entirely.

Sigh.

We position ourselves along the windows of the first floor, there is a less than trustworthy metal runway along the walls that sways ever so slightly every time one of us moves. The streets are eerily empty and I am pretty sure it will not stay like this for long. We keep the people to our left and right within sight and I communicate my commands via hand signals. If anyone out there is listening they can think we’re dead, it will make putting a bullet through their heads so much more fun. It must be colder than I thought because I’m shaking.

After a little over an hour I give up, I will not sit here and starve for nothing, as tempting as it sounds. I carefully look over the streets below us, a lot of the buildings are nothing but the crumbling remains of the outer walls, so they don’t really provide any shelter. I linger a moment too long and a bullet takes out a chunk of the brick next to my head. Fuckers! But where are they hiding? There is nothing… then it hits me. If you don’t look from the right angle you can’t see it but they built walls in front of walls, from the materials of the crumbling buildings, creating perfect spots for Factionless with guns to hide out without being seen. They planned this!

With a low whistle I get Luke’s attention, he’s to my left, and signal to him. This form of communication has come in so handy way too often for me not to be grateful for hours of barely staying awake trying to learn this shit. I task them all to look for these spots, to count just how many rebels we are dealing with so we can pick them off, one by one. They probably think that we will come out sooner or later, and I almost did walk into my own demise. It’s an unpleasant thought but it helps me fight against the tremors that are still rippling through my entire body.

Maybe I really wasn’t ready for this after all.

Alex is the one that figures out that there is just one post far off on his side so I forgive him for getting shot, he’s making up for it right now. There is no reason for anyone to give me cover, since they obviously don’t have to come out of hiding to shoot us. The exit has been blown to smithereens and the back entrance is blocked from the outside so I have no choice but to leave through a window. There is a halfway intact building right next to ours that is at an angle that ensures that I won’t be seen by all but one of our playmates so I’ll have to take a chance. Leaving my team with detailed instructions I carefully lean out of the window that hasn’t had a glass in it for what looks like decades, and try not to acknowledge the ten foot drop below me.

Heights are a common occurrence in fear landscapes to the point of boring me to tears so I am good.

Trying not to think about smashing to the concrete below and splintering bones I assess the distance once more, take a step back and hurl myself out of the small opening. The roof of the adjacent building makes a less than reassuring sound when I drop onto it, but other than that it is eerily quiet. Those bastards must have heard me, there is no way they haven’t.

So I stay low as I creep across the rubble towards what used to be a skylight, hoping that luck is on my side for once and that there is no glass or rusted shut metal keeping me from sneaking out.

Who would have thought, it used to be a metal trapdoor that is entirely missing. Score one for team Dauntless. There is no ladder anywhere in sight but a pile of gravel underneath that makes the impact almost painless, at least would if you weren’t injured already. I grit my teeth and curse inwardly, that’ll have to do for now. A quick glance at my watch tells me that we have been gone for almost three hours, without radio contact for over two. Eric must be livid.

I duck and approach one of the windows at street level, I should be directly behind the lone outpost on this side, as I peek over the ledge I see a man in Amity jacket and Erudite shirt in his late thirties who falls back when I shoot him between the eyes.

Moments later the building I am taking shelter in is going up in flames and I’m forced to give up my cushy hiding spot. Someone is giving me cover as I sprint across the street, painfully aware of every bone and muscle in my body. Just as I lunge for the remainders of an old car bullets begin to rain down on me and one grazes my shoulder. Cursing loudly I roll behind it, landing on the gritty asphalt with my newly injured shoulder. With a loud scream I get back up and begin walking towards the corner of the street where most of the snipers are hiding, fresh out of fucks.

When I come back to I am looking at about twenty bodies on the way from the car to the square where their group was assembled earlier. Peering around the corner of the dilapidated building I see that the crowd is still there and in a panic, but they can’t go anywhere. I’m in one of four roads leading to the square, two others are effectively blocked by my team, who pick off anyone who decides to come too close. I can’t even begin to formulate just how proud that sight is making me feel right now. They got out of the building and came over here all on their own, brainless soldiers my ass! The fourth access is where they blew up yet another something.

Squinting I look a little closer and realize that they didn’t explode anything. Someone shot a missile into the crowd from an armored truck that definitely did not leave the compound with us.

“The fuck do I care about your technical mumbo-jumbo, Four. Find the right channel, today, or I swear I will add at least six more fears to your landscape.”

That angry snarling suddenly coming through the earpiece is music in my ears, honestly, but he can’t come barging in like some overly territorial mutt every single fucking time I’m leaving the walls of Dauntless. I mean, he’s only done it once but that’s already too much.

“Have you come to undermine my authority, <i>fellow leader</i>?”

I can see his head whip around even from a distance and can’t help but grin. Maybe sprinting across the square would be a little too cheesy, but he stalks while I limp so I guess that’s as close as it gets at this point. He grabs me and growls, I laugh and I could swear we even kiss briefly, but there was rubble raining down on my head so I probably just have a concussion. Alex and I are the only ones injured and they drag us, well me, onto the truck Eric came in on and shuttle us back to the compound for some serious medical attention. I sit in the back with Eric, Alex passed out on a gurney a few feet away. It’s hard to ignore the glare that is currently drilling holes into my skull.

“What, Eric,” I finally spit because the whole patience thing has never really worked well for me. “Do you want me to thank you for acting like some crazy idiot just because I went on a mission? You know, we have this awesome, modern gadget they call a phone. You can use it to contact people instead of going into full on idiot mode and blowing up half the city.”

To illustrate my point I pull my phone out of my jacket pocket to wave it in his face. In the process I realize that the screen is black because the battery died. Unfortunately Eric notices, too, and I want to wipe that smirk off his face.

“Now that you know what a phone is let me introduce you to the invention that goes with it, we call it a charger…”

That smirk disappears when my phone hits him in the forehead.

“What the fuck!”

I double over with silent laughter, but then I realize that my ribs are at least bruised, if not broken, and it hurts too much to laugh. So I scowl at him instead, which doesn’t have the desired effect at all. Eric goes serious all of a sudden and grabs me, ignoring my protests, and pulls me onto his lap.

“You seriously need to stop getting yourself in danger like that.”

 The armored truck hits a really deep pothole and I hit my head on the roof, making me see stars for just a moment. Eric pulls my head against his shoulder with a surprising lack of force, and I let him. I’m too tired to put up much of a fight anyway,

 “Eric, honey, we’re Dauntless. This is what we’re supposed to do.”

That barely audible mumbling that contains more creative swear words than you’d hear during an hour long sparring session at any given time is answer enough, apparently he doesn’t agree with me on that one. We’re supposed to be super awesome super soldiers but this new direction we’re headed in seems to be geared towards mindless numbskulls with big arms. Instead of dignifying that with a response I close my eyes and let the engine noise lull me to sleep. It almost feels as if a hand is gently stroking my head but that’s just my concussion talking.

PART FIVE

[spiteandalice]

Judas Touch Pt 3

Alright. This is a bit on the shorter side but it’s mostly angry smut so maybe that makes up for it?

As per request :3 @beautifulramblingbrains and @beltz2016

PART ONE    PART TWO 

Warning: contains language, violence, smut and… violent smut

It’s astonishing how the initiates behave like blind monkeys in a ball pit during training but seem to be able to do just fine when they get into a fight while unsupervised. Two boys, Erudite and Candor, are busy reconstructing their faces when we walk in and for once Eric has to shove his way through the crowd instead of watching it part for him. Nobody really breaks up fights here unless it’s getting too close to losing a member over a cup of chocolate pudding, but these aren’t members,  they’re initiates. There is no emotional attachment whatsoever and the morbid curiosity we all have has time to shine. Humans are extremely fucked up, if you think about it, I had months to reflect on that.

I grab the Erudite by the hair and yank his head down while simultaneously kicking the legs out from under him so I can straddle his back, pinning his arms down with my knees. Thanks to the shock of someone actually knowing how to hurt him he doesn’t put up much of a fight, even after he is pinned and had time to process what I did to him. It gives me plenty of time to watch Eric handle the Candor, who is so in the zone that he’s trying to take on a Dauntless leader. Again, we seem to get not only the brave but also the reckless and that usually equals stupidity. Eric sighs, dodges a sloppy punch with barely any effort and draws his fist back to knock the guy out with a punch to the face. And he didn’t even put much weight behind the movement, which in turn doesn’t help the fact that I am still soaking wet. Moments like this fascinate me because he is always so calm and controlled but if you look closely you can see the turmoil behind his eyes. Not just controlled anger, which is a beautiful sight to behold all on it’s own. He would have been a perfect Erudite and sometimes I do wonder how he ended up here, in spite of the obvious embodiment of what Dauntless now stands for. And why that Matthews woman was so interested in him. Still is. 

Maybe I’ll ask him one day.

After I’m done beating the shit out of him for leaving it up to me to figure out why the hell those two were fighting, he has to go visit his old faction and cozy up to their leader. During my time as ambassador I only had two official visits to the brainy faction, both things Eric couldn’t be bothered with. The other times he took care of matters and I have to say that I wasn’t really eager to deal with that woman - she doesn’t like me, and the dislike is mutual. She once alluded to me being a possible distraction for him and she does not appreciate any kinks in her well manicured plans. I laughed at her and left, because there is absolutely nothing on this forsaken planet that can stop Eric once he is set in motion. It’s one of the things I admire about him.

“So,” I spit, walking in front of the Candor with my hands folded behind my back, which seems to be an automatic leader gesture, “care to enlighten me why you thought it would be a good idea to try and murder your fellow initiate? A very pathetic attempt, may I add, but one nonetheless.”

The Candor is still beyond pissed, which is why I decided to interrogate him first, while the anger is still fresh. Once he had time to cool down and the anger turned sour he’ll just turn into a sarcastic little shit and I really don’t feel like slapping him around much today. I’m saving that for Eric.

“He was talking shit about my sister,” he growls and I stop in my tracks, unable to keep myself from shooting him an incredulous look. What exactly is it about faction before blood that these morons don’t understand? Every damn year someone is howling about their damn family like they’re all special little babies that don’t actually have to listen to a single damn thing we have been telling them and it drives me insane. This faction is far from perfect but if these inbred degenerates come in and refuse to even try we might as well throw in the towel and pick up a nice little retirement hobby. Maybe Eric can crochet or do a little bit of woodwork. I know he’d tell me he has some wood for me to work on because all men are secretly twelve.

But back to the task at hand. I chew the guy out for his transgressions and leave him to the kitchen staff for some serious cleaning duties,  I know that the place needs it badly. The Erudite fucktard can go clean toilets across the compound and that leaves me facing a wall of reports when I get back to my office. I could swear I heard Max giggle through the door of his office. He’s dead.

It’s way past ten and I’m in the middle of a little cardio on the living room floor when I hear the door. I’m not even bothering to acknowledge his presence because I’m still pissed, but if there’s something Eric hates it’s being ignored. Or disrespected. Or losing. Or people who lack ambition. Meatloaf Fridays. The list could go on and on.

I’m on all fours, pumping my right leg up and down in spite of the way my body screams at me. Pain can go suck it, I will win this. A different kind of pain digs into my hips and pulls me back against him, which is his way of demanding my undivided attention. I snarl and kick his thigh, which should hurt even though I’m barefoot. With a grunt his grip on my hips tightens and he lifts me up to turn me over, which I gladly accommodate, my legs wrap around his neck and I squeeze my thighs together, trapping his head. If I thought I had him I’m way too cocky and need a reality check, because he grins wolfishly and nips at me, grazing my clit with his teeth through the thin fabric of my shorts.

Using my abdominal muscles I push my upper body upwards, not my best move because my crotch is now pressed right against his face and Eric lazily trails his tongue over the fabric, causing it to soak through in mere moments which admittedly is not all him. My hands lift to yank at his hair but he knows what I’m up to and grabs my wrists, pinning then to my sides.  As far as brute strength goes he is always winning, especially right now, and he knows it. Suddenly the world around me tilts and because I was distracted by his mouth I’m not prepared for my impact on the floor. It stuns me for a few moments while I try to breathe and that’s all it takes for him to shred the shorts that I just bought.

With an angry growl I kick at his chest and send him on his ass, he didn’t exactly go flying but that’ll have to do for now. I pounce after him and twist his shirt collar just to cut off the circulation a little. My other hand reaches under me to find his damn zipper but he decided that I had enough time to enjoy myself and stands up,  his arm wrapped around me tightly.  Before I can bite at his neck more than once he turns me around and holds me in place by wrapping his arm around my throat, so if I struggle too much I’m cutting off all circulation and I can’t breathe. I still twist and kick, he slips his hands beneath my legs, humming appreciatively at the fact that even my thighs are slick and wet by now.

“How come you get so violent and wet at the same time, hm. Almost as if you’re some sick little bitch that gets off on it.”

Eric runs a wet finger over my lips, spreading my own juices across my mouth. I growl and bite his finger, hard, and he chuckles but I can feel his cock twitch where it’s pressed against my ass.

“Takes one to know one,” I grind out between gritted teeth, I’m angry because he so easily pins me, even though I know it’s due to my injuries, lack of training and malnutrition. He seems to really enjoy himself though, I suspect there aren’t that many women who can keep up with him even if they want to. I hear the sound of his belt buckle hitting the floor and it sends a shiver of pleasure through me. That belt has played quite the role in our relationship so far… 

My moment comes when he pulls off his shirt, his grip on me loosens enough for me to twist around and jab him in the ribs. Using my full weight I push him down and he hisses when he tumbles backwards and pulls me with him so I’m straddling his lap. One quick snap of both our hips, perfectly synchronized, and he’s inside me. It’s almost eerie, sometimes, to see how we seem to think the same things, at the same time and then act the same way. It’s probably where the secret twin rumor comes from.

Not willing to give in to him so easily I bury my hand in his hair and yank, wanting to expose his throat to my teeth, but before I can lean forward his hand wraps around my throat and he squeezes. We stare each other down, I’m pulling, he’s squeezing and I rock my hips against his in a frantic rhythm, knowing that the release I’m looking for will be just as violent as this is right now. And oh so satisfying.

My muscles tighten around him and Eric hisses, his grip around my throat slipping slightly. It’s those little moments where his control slips that I’m looking for, that I absolutely fucking live for, because I know that he hates it when it happens. And maybe, just maybe, I’m arrogant enough to firmly believe that I’m the only one that’s capable of doing this to him.

We’re both slick with sweat and my skin slides against his, I let the nails of my free hand rake down his throat since he won’t let me bite him. His hand tightens again and my vision begins to blur around the edges, just slightly. Eric knows exactly how much pressure to use and when to stop, and I hate to admit it but it’s fucking hot. Just a little more and I gasp, I’m not sure if it’s the lack of air or the orgasm that suddenly slams my body out of this world that is responsible for my temporary loss of vision, but I don’t care at all. I want to scream but I can’t, all that comes out around the pressure of his hand is low and strangled and I’m vaguely aware of my nails digging into his throat. As I come down and my tensed up muscles begin to relax so does his hand around my neck and I take a deep, shuddering breath, moaning again as my lungs fill. I look at him, his eyes never left mine for one second since I slid on his cock and I grin, lifting my hand from his neck to my mouth to suck on every single finger to clean them, I did draw a little blood. Eric shudders and grabs my hips, his fingers digging into my bruised flesh once more. He keeps me down and grinds me against him, once, twice, before he stills and bites down on my shoulder with a guttural sound that makes me smile.

Without a word I get up and gather the tattered remains of my clothes, that I just bought by the way, and head for the bathroom, absolutely intending to lock the door on him. I’m still angry at him for disappearing to Erudite once more and for generally being an asshole, even though I can’t really fault him for the latter without being a complete hypocrite.

“Have you been to the infirmary yet?”

To my credit… I manage not to stop dead in my tracks, I manage to hide my shock fairly well and I keep walking away from him.

“You know that I haven’t, you’re keeping tabs on me. I’m going tomorrow, want to come watch them make sure you can’t knock me up?”

Eric mutters something I can’t understand and I roll my eyes, which he can’t see so it’s purely for my own pleasure. What an idiot. I slam the bathroom door shut behind me and make sure to lock it so he can’t follow me into the shower. Serves him right. I’ll probably pay for it once I get out, but that’s a risk I am more than willing to take.

PART FOUR

[spiteandalice]

Judas Touch pt 2

This is a continuation of what I thought was a oneshot and which has at this point four chapters and a fucking title, which never bodes well. The title is also a song by Mark Lanegan, if you care. You better.

First one can be found here in case you need a refresher. I know I did.

Eric/OFC, fuck canon. I guess. Contains swearing and sexual content.

We sleep with our backs to each other. It is still somewhat disconcerting to have somebody that close during that time when you completely let your guard down, when you are at your most defenseless. To let them see you vulnerable. Even though I was born Dauntless and knew everyone in my initiation class I slept very little during that time, all those people in the same room made me uneasy. I never asked Eric about how it was for him, being with the traditionally even more competitive transfers, we don’t talk about this sort of thing very often. Or anything, really. We are both not fans of sharing anything too personal and enjoy the fact that neither of us is pressing for that, we are too much alike not to understand the fundamental things.

But our mutual agreement extended to sleeping together at some point and we settled into a routine. More often than not I am gone, visiting other factions or herding the dumb sheep guarding the fence. Luckily we don’t have much out there to worry about or we would most definitely be doomed. When I finished initiation I was first in my class - naturally - and at that time the open leadership position had just been filled by Eric, but Max had insisted on running me through the apprenticeship nonetheless, because we are Dauntless and when it comes to positions it never hurts to have a spare for everything. We do tend to die rather suddenly.

So I never bothered to have an actual place at the compound because I’m gone more often than not and if I am around for a few days they give me a small room tucked away somewhere that is not occupied. I’m not complaining, I like being outside instead of being stuck behind a desk most of the time, signing forms and going through reports until my eyes bleed. Eric doesn’t find that funny, but I do.

It never takes long for us to find each other, he is not always outside overseeing a delivery but he is a leader and as such privy to whatever goes on in the compound, I’m pretty sure that he has instructed the people working in the control room to alert him when I arrive, or he has developed a sixth sense for my presence. I know which one I’m inclined to believe.

So more often than not I end up in his apartment and his bed, our backs turned to each other because even when we sleep we are ready to be attacked and trust each other more than we would some random intruder. Our guns are on our nightstands and there is a knife under my pillow, he has various weapons stashed away all over the place and we both know where to find them; the day he showed me was the day I knew this was a little more serious than our usual romps would indicate. Or mine at least, he doesn’t like having to kick out some half drunk floozy and is usually nowhere near the partying crowds that can be seen around Dauntless at any given night, I don’t know if he has an arrangement similar to ours with someone else. And I don’t really want to find out. Because I don’t care, of course. There is no reason to put more into this than either of us is willing to give, the line is very firmly drawn and we move around behind it with practiced ease.

Usually we don’t touch, just lie close enough that I can feel the heat radiate off his body. There is a lot of that to go around and I lie here, in the middle of winter, sweating as if it was summer. Maybe I’m just not used to it anymore, I have spent quite some time in the cold, musty basement of an abandoned building when the factionless held me captive.

That is probably why I can’t sleep, too. I’m tired, my body is pleasantly exhausted after Eric put me through several rounds of what you might want to call reunion sex, but my mind is too busy working through things to shut off, and that’s not exactly unusual. What’s unusual is his foot hooked over my leg as if he is anchoring me to his bed. We never touch, we don’t cuddle, we are not that kind of person at all. There is no excessive PDA, maybe a look or two when we are going about our days, never this. I wonder if it’s because he thought I was dead and can’t quite believe I am here. Neither can I, I’m not exactly a quitter but I figured my chances of survival were somewhere at the very low end of the scale.

“Stop thinking so fucking loud Mina, I want to sleep.”

His voice is gruff and muffled by the pillow and I’m surprised he’s awake at all. Moments ago his breathing was even, a soft snore every fifth breath or so, like usual. But maybe that wasn’t moments ago, I was busy reliving the torture I have been through in vivid details, for all I know it could have been hours. I don’t reply, instead I punch my pillow into a more acceptable shape, huff and reach for my gun. Somehow I feel better holding it. There is some rustling behind me and the mattress shifts, I feel Eric closer now and his breath is on my neck. He’s probably frowning at the gun in my hand. Although he hasn’t been through anything like this I know he’s had his fair share of moments he doesn’t like to relive and it is yet another thing we both understand about each other. Finally he grunts and plunks down right behind me, his body curling around mine without quite touching. It feels kind of nice and I drift off eventually.

The next morning comes way too soon but I am up bright and early, there will be a meeting with Max first thing. I picked the day before the Choosing of all days to return, so Max already had a full schedule, we have to meet at five in the morning and I know how much it delights him. To say that he is not a morning person is putting it lightly, it is usually best not to speak to him before noon, provided he has had enough coffee. Eric is still behind me when I wake up, our legs are tangled and he has his arm wrapped around me tightly. When I try to get out of his grip he chuckles, still half asleep but alert enough to know what is happening.

“Do you want me to tell Max you’re the reason why I’m late?”

There is another chuckle as he stretches, pressing himself even closer to me and I quietly mourn the lack of time to take advantage of the situation. But I need another shower if I don’t want to walk around smelling like sex and Eric, although he probably wouldn’t mind that at all.

With a low grumble he rolls onto his back and I know he is watching me carefully as I get up and walk into his bathroom, not bothering to cover up. There is nothing he hasn’t seen plenty of times already, including the plethora of scars all over my body. Eric has spent some time discovering them all, just like I know all of his. Including the one in his upper thigh where a fellow initiate stabbed him during training. Tom barely made it through stage two and is now one of the fence guards. I make sure to treat him with utmost respect whenever I’m out there, last time he looked like he was about to fling himself right off the high structure just to get away from me. But like everyone else he doesn’t dare to call me a bitch to my face.

Those who do dare it usually regret it within moments.

When I make my way up to the leader offices it is eerily quiet, the occasional guard on patrol nods at me in that distant way that is supposed to be respectful and has long ago been deemed the safest way to interact with those of us that are somewhat mercurial. I simply sip my coffee and ignore them, it is too early to even think about acknowledging lower life forms, and it will always be too early for that. With a disgruntled sigh I knock and all I get as a response is a growl. Max is exceptionally chipper this morning.

“Mina,” he says once I drag myself through the door in a spare uniform I found somewhere in Eric’s closet, the advantage of our arrangement. Because most of my things have been discarded after they declared me dead, only a few things survived and those were all in his apartment. I actually feel sorry for everyone that will have to put up with me when I buy new clothes today. It’s surprising that Max can even articulate yet.

“Can we get to the point, I have absolutely no clothes and no place and there are about a million other things I have to take care of to make me not dead today.” Like get my keycard activated again, yell at someone until my points are back in my deleted account so I can buy underwear. All the fun things. Max actually sort of grins at me.

“It’s nice to have the full set again. I think. Spencer is retiring, which means there is a leadership position opening up. I know I will regret having both you and Eric in leadership positions, but you are by far the most qualified for this job. I’m actually considering letting you train the initiates with Eric and Four this year, you did very well when you had to fill in with our last batch after that unfortunate incident.”

I almost choke on my coffee. None of this is really unexpected, except the last part. Four is one of the very few people in Dauntless that I get along with, but everyone with half a brain cell that hasn’t spent the last few years curled up at the bottom of the chasm knows that Eric and Four get along as well as Erudite and Abnegation. Except that the factions never beat the shit out of each other, as far as I know, which is the unfortunate incident from last year Max is talking about.

“So are you just going to scare off the initiates that don’t get killed? I thought that we actually need new members? It helps prevent all the side effects of inbreeding, you know.”

Still holding my coffee I peek at him over the rim of my mug, the one that Eric wordlessly shoved at me after my shower in an almost domestic kind of scene this morning, it was surreal. What’s even worse, I don’t mind at all. Maybe it’s because I’ve been so thoroughly beaten and hit in the head more often than I can count but coming back to that wasn’t half bad. Neither is the prospect of watching the burning trainwreck that two of the most ambitious men in Dauntless training a bunch of transfers will be. There is only one problem.

“I’m not going to be stuck doing all the shit jobs, right? Because if I will have to do budgets and trade reports for the next five years I will shoot everyone.”

Max winces and takes a sip of his coffee. He knows me too well to think that that will entice me to take his offer. The ambassador position I kind of filled as an interim solution ended up being a lot more fun than I had thought and it required about a quarter of the paperwork that the leaders are constantly buried under. And absolutely nobody wanted that job in the first place, so I didn’t have to put up with little shits trying to usurp me.

“You’ve been through leadership training so you know what to expect. Your points are being restored as we speak and your new papers will be ready this afternoon. Tori will be at the shop at seven to do your tattoo. The only problem I see is that we don’t have any living space available on that level, but I spoke to Eric about that yesterday. Until something frees up you could stay with him, or choose to stay in one of our guest rooms,” he finishes with a smirk. Half of Dauntless isn’t quite convinced that Eric and I aren’t siblings, the rest considers us a match made in hell. Max is firmly in the second camp and has been trying to push us together for years, something about the ideal Dauntless couple and how great it would be to send us off to meetings with other factions. I think if he’d had his way we would have been busy producing a blond little Dauntless army but if I was into breeding livestock I would have defected to Amity.

With a scowl I attempt to stare him down, but I’m afraid it’s way too early even for me to be at full capacity, and I’m a morning person. Something about everyone else looking miserable puts me in a very good mood.

“So I basically don’t have a choice, that’s the gist of it.” He smiles at me and I feel the sudden urge to wipe his desk with his face. Sure, at some point I wanted this. And getting to oversee training sounds like the most fun I’ve had with my clothes on in years. Eric has been doing it for two years now and I got to accompany them on their nice little field trips, the last group of initiates still shivers whenever someone mentions war games. And the idea of traipsing around outside is less than appealing for now.

“I guess.” It could use at least a little enthusiasm, but Max obviously doesn’t care. Shuffling a few papers around he gets up with an almost genuine smile and shoves a few papers at me to sign along with a new phone.

“I will make an announcement this morning before I head to the ceremony. By now everyone has heard about your return so they’ll be lingering around the mess hall anyway.”

I roll my eyes. What a bunch of gossiping shitheads.

An hour later I meet Tori at the shop, it’s only six but I saw her up so I figured why wait. She asks me where I want the leadership marks, we get to choose the spot but it has to be visible, so my suggestion to put them on my ass is not met with approval. She lightly touches my neck and looks at me with a smirk. Yes, let’s fuel the secret twins rumors please. I’m not getting them in the same spot as Eric.

Both our eyes travel to the side of my head, the hair has gotten longer there because captivity didn’t include regular haircuts, but it’s still relatively short. I smirk, Tori grins and begins to rifle through several drawers to find a razor.

That’ll do.

That tattoo gave me the worst headache ever, but I am determined not to let it show when I stand up on the ledge wedged between Max and Eric three hours later in my new uniform. Max is waxing somewhat poetically about our faction, it’s values and being brave in the face of everything this shitty world throws at us. Something similar happens every year on Choosing Day so I don’t pay much attention to any of it until I notice Eric staring at me. I roll my eyes at him and he smirks, eyes briefly darting to the freshly shaved and tattooed side of my head. Then Max interrupts our little moment by announcing my promotion and the people cheer because it’s what’s expected of them, not because they’re happy. Dauntless never ignore an opportunity to be loud and annoying, so this is what they do.

After some down time, which I used to move into my new office and tackle some paperwork, hooray, I make my way to the rooftop to greet our new initiates. Eric is already up there, basking in the bright sunlight, ignoring a handful of members that have tagged along to get a first glimpse at our potential newbies. We all stay uncharacteristically quiet until the train shows up and a jumble of kids come tumbling out. The black ones land relatively steady and come jogging over, there are specs of black and white and blue that have a hard time getting the landing right, and even some red and yellows. And a single person in grey. Huh. The first suicidal Stiff since Four, it seems.

They never learn.

Eric steps onto the edge of the building to hold another little speech, sneering at the newcomers as if they were something dirty he found under his boot. I’m right beside him, on the ground, my feet wide and my arms crossed. There is a lot of apprehension and a few smirks that I can’t wait to wipe off their smug little faces. I hear Eric saying my name and focus on what is going on again, glaring at the crowd in front of us. When Eric says I will be helping with their training a few Dauntless borns become agitated, elbowing each other and making faces that are anything but excited. I smirk. Good.

“Apologies for not staying dead, initiates. I’ve visited hell and they decided that I’m not someone they want to be around. The following weeks will be determining your future, I suggest you take this opportunity and give it your best. Even if your best isn’t good enough.”

Eric steps off the ledge and looks at me, clearly amused. “And they say I’m terrible at motivating the initiates,” he stage whispers, the first three rows of kids can definitely hear us. “Well, if they want coddling they picked the wrong fucking faction, didn’t they.” We smirk at each other and wait for the first kid to gather their wits and jump. It will be a long day.

The first training session is a complete disaster. The transfers start in the morning while Lauren has her Dauntless kids assemble guns until they pass out in another room. Four is trying to be somewhat friendly, by our standards, and he obviously has a lot more patience than I do. But I’m not really convinced that his approach alone will make them realize just what is at stake here, even though they were told that they wouldn’t all make it yesterday during the great tour. I made sure to let them know that absolutely everything they do during training will be factored into their ranking, yet here they are, behaving like a bunch of toddlers. Actually, we have a daycare a few floors above us full of toddlers that could knock out at least half of these transfers within minutes.

I walk around, watching all of our transfers fail miserably, but there are a few that look like they will pick up sooner than others. After a while I’ve had enough and I step in and give them pointers, ignoring Eric and his raised eyebrow.

“This dummy will have enough of your fumbling and punch you right back. This isn’t a date initiate, you’re not trying to get to third base. That’s not a punch, that is ridiculous.”

The guy is the tallest of his group, a transfer from Amity if I remember correctly. Yet here he is, barely making an impact. If he can’t even hit an inanimate object I have my doubts that he will be able to punch a fellow initiate. Eric saunters around the room looking like someone just gifted him a lifelong supply of chocolate cake. Or bourbon, in his case. Not much of a sweet tooth. He thoroughly enjoys watching me bark at the kids. Who knew this would be so much fun? But someone has to push them, Four might think that his way of training them is encouraging, but we will never get anywhere if we hold their hands and talk about our feelings.

The Dauntless born are an entirely different story. Lauren pairs them off and has them spar right away, they have all had plenty of practice growing up. Two of ours defected this year, to Amity of all places. Well, good riddance. They all seem a little bored, but know enough about the process to at least attempt participation. Everyone but Lou. He is just an inch taller than me but equipped with the usual broad shoulders and muscle mass. Unfortunately he has spent all his time lifting weights and very little on actual sparring, because that muscle might be intimidating but it won’t hold up against a reasonably skilled fighter. Even the Stiff could beat him after a few weeks. His girlfriend is reasonably pretty but I doubt she would be able to count to ten if her life depended on it. In their minds they reign supreme and they know absolutely everything.

“We know all of this already.” Instead of sparring with his assigned partner he is standing on the mat, arms crossed and looking directly at me. Lauren is at the other end of the room, criticizing two initiates that look like they are hugging it out at the moment. He obviously waited for his chance to try and goad me, what a precious little guy he is.

“Is that so? Why don’t I send word to Max that he is being replaced by someone that knows everything, while we’re at it. Do as you’re told, initiate.”

As expected, he doesn’t move even an inch. I feel Eric watching us, but there is no way that he would step in here, he knows what would happen to him if he did. A few of his scars are mine and I know every single one of them and why exactly he deserved them, I’m sure he does too.

“Why did they even make you a leader? Aren’t you just Eric’s sister that he can’t stop fucking?”

My day has officially been made. Smiling I step closer, and the guy he is supposed to spar with has the wits about him to back away from Lou. There is no need for me to pose all intimidating, I’ve never felt the need to do that. After I established my reputation that was more than enough to have people react a certain way, it seems that someone needs a reminder.

“I’m sure that you are fully capable of beating me in a fight then.”

That guy lights up instantly, since I gave him what he wanted so willingly. Unfortunately bravery doesn’t cancel out stupidity, we often get those that are reckless to the point of being suicidal, and this guy right here is a prime example. It seems that his girlfriend is the brains of the operation after all.

Kicking off my boots - I will not have anyone say I had an unfair advantage - I make my way into the ring and I can hear Eric shout at the other initiates to ‘watch and learn’. I shoot him a quick look and snort, because we both know exactly what is to be learned here.

“Go ahead, initiate,” I all but sing at him, inviting him to throw the first punch. And he does, throwing all his weight into it, counting on me to just stand there and take it. He probably won a few fights against his peers like that. His right fist hits nothing but air because I duck, lazily and slow, punching him in his ribs that he left completely exposed, and follow up with a swift kick to the stomach. He doubles over and I slam my elbow into the back of his neck. With a loud thud he falls onto the mat and I lightly press my foot against his cheek.

“Thirty seconds,” Eric announces loudly, sounding bored as can be.

“I’m shocked. My injuries are no excuse for being this slow.”

Everyone stares at me and I shrug.

“Now that all of you have been reminded of just how much there is still left to learn… go back to your assignment. Never be this cocky, never rely on just one single strength to get you out of a fight. If you are quick, build up your strength and vice versa. We are not just looking for brute strength here at Dauntless, muscles don’t make you brave. You won’t get out of a real fight alive like…this,” I finish, waving my hand dismissively at the guy on the floor. They scurry back to their stations and I spot Lauren trying to hide a grin behind what is probably supposed to be a scowl in my direction for beating her trainee.

Eric is busy looking at his stupid phone while I pull on my boots, tapping away at something. Without looking up he turns in my direction and motions for me to follow him. I wasn’t aware that it was time for the meeting we have with a few other leaders yet, although they do say that time flies when you’re having fun. But he walks straight to his office instead, making it perfectly clear what’s on his mind.

As soon as I walk through the door he slams me into the wall right next to it and his lips are on mine before I had the chance to breathe. There was no real rush in taking that initiate down a few pegs, that wasn’t a real fight. But I know that a certain someone enjoys seeing me like that, asserting my dominance and matching his apparent cruelty. I bite his lower lip when he tries to kiss me and Eric responds with a growl. As if on cue we both move simultaneously to pull off our shirts, I’m still pinned to the wall by his hips, which makes the removal of my pants a lot more difficult.

Just as I’m undoing my belt there’s a frantic knock on the door right next to us and Eric exhales through his nose, looking ready to kill whoever tries to interrupt us.

“Eric, two of the transfers are trying to kill each other down in the pit.”

I’m a little surprised that there aren’t two holes burned into the door at this point, I have accepted that some cosmic asshole has decided we are not doing this right now and try to wiggle away from him to pick my shirt up off the floor - but Eric is having none of it.

“Get Four, that’s his problem,” he snarls and bends forward to attack my neck with his teeth, determined not to give up. Did I mention that he doesn’t like giving up? I push him away roughly and glare at him. We can’t let those kids kill each other just because he wants to get his dick wet.

“Four is already down there. It’s about to turn into a brawl.”

Eric looks at me, mutters a few choice words, and picks up his vest and shirt. I grin and slap his ass as he bends down, which elicits another low growl from him. And his angry look is just the icing on the cake because it doesn’t intimidate me but sends a deliciously hot jolt of electricity right between my legs.

“Welcome to Dauntless leadership. Don’t expect to have any time for anything for the next decade or so,” he mutters before he storms out, his shirt not quite on, and almost barrels over the poor girl that was sent to get him. I saunter out right after him, looking forward to breaking up that fight and then fucking Eric until his eyes roll to the back of his head, I don’t care if the entire city is burning down around us.

PART THREE

[spiteandalice]

Judas Touch pt. 1

So I lied about posting the other day, obviously. Please know that I’m a lying liar that lies.The second chapter to my Jai fic is almost done and if I don’t pass out in five minutes I’ll do my best to get it the fuck done. Let me start this by saying how I hate y’all even if you don’t know me. I’ve been lurking for a long while, reading all the Divergent and Boomer and whatnot fics quietly because I knew the moment I would set up a blog for this I’d fall into a deep, dark hole. NOW LOOK AT THIS SHIT.

Have an Eric oneshot because my brain hates me so, so much.

Contains smut, language and some violence.

In my few years on this planet I haven’t seen many winters that could compare to this one, the temperatures so low it feels like a punch to the chest every time you walk outside. Having all the moisture in your nose freeze up every time you breathe in is quite something to behold. It doesn’t stop me from hanging off the side of the first armored truck in our convoy, the one that found me on a routine patrol, peering through the blindingly white streets ahead at what I have called home all my life, even if it’s a miserable cavern full of loud idiots. My faction still houses the best kind of idiots because Dauntless are by far the most tolerable of the bunch. The snow actually helps to improve the city, it covers the ruins and manages to let even the usually depressing wastelands look almost pretty.

Not that I care.

There is a commotion up ahead, and I can’t help but smile at the warm welcome as a group of disheveled factionless come shambling out of a street in an attempt to attack us. I guess my reputation has suffered greatly in the past four months, but I guess being presumed dead does that to you.

They are mostly unarmed, a few are swinging pipes and other blunt objects in our direction, meaning to look threatening I guess, and I descend from my spot by the driver’s door, smiling. I take a few steps towards them, still smiling. My height alone is supposedly enough to impress, even if they don’t recognize me. 5′11 is mighty tall for a woman, and everything about my clothes is meant to accentuate that, not that I could really conceal it somehow. My black coat reaches down to my ankles and would be restricting if it wasn’t for the four slits on the sides, front and back, allowing me enough leg room to climb, run and kick. Or slowly stride towards a bunch of bumbling idiots who dare to delay my glorious return to the living. Clearly confused some of them back away, until I’m close enough to make out some of their grubby faces. One in the front bears a tattoo on his head that looks vaguely familiar, but I can’t quite put my finger on it. He stares at my bruised face for a moment before his brain can process whatever info it provides to him.

“Oh shit. It’s her! It’s Mina!”

Ah, a former dauntless. It warms the spot where my heart is supposed to be that he recognizes and instantly fears me. Clever boy.

For a moment they are all silent, some exchange looks, then they start to run. I laugh, wholeheartedly enjoying their reaction, while I pull two guns from their holsters slung across my shoulders and start firing at them. Out of the fifteen only seven make it back to their rat hole. I’m obviously very rusty.

Banging my fist on the hood of the truck is the driver’s signal to continue on, we are moments away from the compound and I would like to get back inside, have a shower and reconnect with old friends.

All three of them.

There is a lot of bustling as we approach, looks like a delivery from Amity is unloaded right now and it has transformed the place into an anthill that I’m usually tempted to light on fire with a huge looking glass, but not today. I’m feeling very generous. A lot of black figures are running around carrying things, only one is standing in the middle, almost motionless. His head is turned towards us but there is not even the slightest sign of any kind of emotion visible in his rigid stance, hands folded behind his back, ever the leader. I smirk and jump off, slowly making my way towards him, limping slightly because my ankle is sprainex. When I am not more than ten feet away he barks at someone to his left, without so much as turning his head that way, and the hapless guy who dared to slow down hastily runs towards the truck to grab another crate.

“Still getting off on intimidating peasants, I see.”

“Still loving a grand entrance, I see.”

We stare at each other for a moment and if I had a heart it would possibly beat faster now and I would experience some form of joy because I am actually home. Alas, a smirk and a raised eyebrow will have to do, and it is returned in kind by my favorite dauntless. Which I would never tell him, his ego is inflated enough already.

“Looks like you just won me a lot of points, Mina.”

For Eric he sounds almost gentle, with only a minimum of sarcasm and a dash of amusement in his voice. I briefly wonder if he was affected by the news of my death at all, but I know him too well. It was probably extra terrible to land on his shit list for a couple of weeks, by breathing wrong or walking by too close.

“I leave you alone for a couple of weeks and you turn into a gambling man? What has this place come to! Are we doing group hug sessions now every Friday?”

For a moment we both go quiet and I am sure that we are supposed to hug now, or smile or break out into a little dance number. But we just stare, I for my part even enjoying it because there aren’t many people who would even dare to hold his gaze, and the same thing can be said about me. Finally he takes a few steps forward, closing the distance between us and leaning his forehead against mine for just a moment. We are both not feeling the need for any form of PDA and anything else along those lines, that is for the mushy idiots, the pussies and emotional people, which is all the same anyway. Mutual respect is the highest form of affection we are capable of and comfortable with, and that is all I need to know. 

“I am looking forward to a hot shower, some food and a few hours of sparring. Not necessarily in that order.”

He lifts an eyebrow at me and smirks. I’m still looking better put together than the majority here and I spent weeks in captivity, fighting my way through a horde of idiots and then crawling across the city before a patrol found me. There is dust in my hair, the left side of my head needs shaving and I would kill for clean underwear. Not that I normally wouldn’t.

“Code’s still the same. You might want to check in and tell everyone else you’re alive.”

With a huff of indignation I step back and glare at him, he has to ruin all my fun. I was planning on roaming the halls for a few weeks, thoroughly scaring the shit out of everyone that knows me, especially those that never liked me. Which, admittedly, are quite a few. Not as many as Eric can boast about, I have never been in a position to be able to make quite as many enemies, but I am close. Was. Am. I am back, I should remember that.

Stifling a grin he pats my shoulder and turns me toward the door behind him. As I turn a guy behind me catches a glimpse at my face, drops something and curses. I turn and start running at him with a loud wail and he, completely shocked and confused, starts running. The look of pure amusement on Eric’s face is almost worth behaving like an idiot and I allow myself a half smile before straightening my coat and heading back towards the door.

“I think I almost missed having you around.”

With a snort I walk past him, clipping him in the shoulder on the way. The only things he missed were my body and the fact that he had someone on his level around that would get his moods and his thought processes, that is all.

“Your dick missed me, I’m sure.”

He doesn’t respond to that, and as I walk through the narrow and dark corridor I can hear him barking orders at the poor saps outside and it just might be one of the sweetest things I have ever heard.

Later that night, after a very exhausting meeting with the leaders and a long and entirely unnecessary retelling of my adventures, I find myself keying in the familiar code to Eric’s place. There is a spot for me in one of the guest rooms because I have never been around for too long, but it is a long standing tradition that I spend most of my nights here. The lights are out and everything is quiet, so I make my way to the bathroom after taking off my boots and coat and placing them by the door, neatly because anything else would make it impossible for me to relax. Always be ready to leave, always have a strategy. The fact that I am willing to even take off my knives and guns around here says a lot about Eric, if there is anyone in this world that I would trust to an extent it would be him.

This is why I decide to not only take a shower, generously applying his soap twice, but also draw a hot bath afterwards because after being dead for four months I am pretty sure I’m entitled to a little smidge of luxury, and it’s his place so I’m not worried about wasting his resources, he can afford it. While the tub slowly fills I make my way around, grateful for the fact that he is such a neat person, because I could find my way to his liquor stash blindfolded. With a bottle of very good whiskey and his backup pack of cigarettes I make my way back to the bathroom, picking up a lighter and an ashtray on my way. I am naked and my hair is leaving a fine trail of water droplets all over his floors, which I’m sure will irritate him to no end. I grin and leave the door open before I submerge myself in what feels like boiling hot water, not even thinking about leaving before I have smoked half of the pack and drank at least a quarter of the bottle.

When the door opens I tense, but I know full well that the number of people who can even access his place is extremely low, yet I only relax after I heard his low grumble that is telling me he is annoyed but also vaguely amused. He must have seen the water trail I left him while he took off his boots. Like the trail of breadcrumbs in that old story, just a lot better.

“One could think you owned this place.”

There he is, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. I can’t say I’m not enjoying the sight, a few months among factionless and corpses does things to a woman’s standards, but there has only ever been one who came close to not boring me and mostly pissing me off in the good kind of way. He is currently raking his gaze up and down my body, and I’m not sure what he is thinking because I must look terrible. Battered and bruised, what I lost in weight I gained in scars. Not pretty, but we are soldiers, we are not supposed to be beautiful. Supposed to I say, because this little shit had to go against the grain.

“If I owned this place it wouldn’t be such a mess.”

The smile I bestow on him almost reaches my eyes, I can feel it, but it is also meant to provoke him. I need to test the waters, to see how, or if at all, things have changed in these few months. Maybe he found himself a nice little wife he keeps in a different apartment because being around others constantly is too much, or maybe he and Four finally acted on all that pent up tension. My smile turns into a smirk and he raises an eyebrow, his gaze still cold. Our greeting was downright emotional, but now we’re back at the beginning, cautiously staring at each other, neither of us willing to take the first step because that means exposing yourself and could be considered a weakness.

Finally I sigh and get up, letting the water cascade off my body for a moment before reaching for a black towel I put out, carefully stepping over the edge of the tub and beginning to dry myself thoroughly, right in front of him. Cold fingers suddenly dig into my hips, pulling me backwards and against him. We don’t say a single word, don’t even make a sound, but I turn around and launch myself at him so hard that he stumbles backwards and into the wall. His hands are all over my back, my hair, my ass, while I wrap my legs around him like a vise and take great pleasure in destroying his carefully made up hair.  I was the first one to openly laugh at him and survive and it was this haircut that caused my outburst. I like it, sort of, even though I don’t and it’s none of my business anyway.

We don’t kiss, we never have, it is a ferocious attack of lips and tongues and teeth, biting and sucking and licking. Even this turns into a competition, to see who could win the upper hand. Ever since we met, while he was an initiate and I had to wait another damn year, we have been at each other’s throats both literally and figuratively speaking. No matter what competition we ended up in, it was always just too close to call unless one of us decided to play dirty and distract the other in every way possible, which is always. The first time we fucked - and there is no other word to accurately describe it - we were sparring, he had me pinned, I managed to headbutt him, he tried to choke me and I kicked him in the balls - this is our kind of foreplay.

Nobody said any of this is “healthy”.

There is blood on my lips and I’m not sure if it’s his or mine, and it’s really not important either way. We will both be walking around covered in scratches and bruises tomorrow, slightly smug and knowing full well that everyone can see, everyone knows and yet nobody dares to say a thing because we are both known to be very calm and reasonable humans.

That thought makes me chuckle against his throat and he growls, the first noises we made so far.

“Something funny there?”

“Yeah, your face.”

His hand tangles in my black hair and pulls my head back, he is not in the mood for some banter on the intellectual level of five year olds, and that’s okay. This is something that developed over time, we blow off some steam, destroy a piece of furniture or two, then comes the playful part. One time he chased me around the training room for half an hour, a fact that got him into a fight with Four the next day when he was complaining about having to watch that on the surveillance footage. It wasn’t so much the fact that we were naked and clearly having a lot of sex that bothered Eric, but the fact that Four saw him laughing and tickle me into submission. It was a one time lapse of judgement on our parts that never happened again after and we keep that private.

Eric wraps a thick strand of my hair around his hand and pulls, hard, making my scalp burn. With a growl I lash out and manage to leave three welts on his cheek, right under his eye. 

 "I thought you were fucking dead, Mina.“

That growl nearly drives me insane. It’s always a back and forth, a struggle for dominance we both know we won’t win, and I for my part have no interest in that happening in the first place. I’d be bored within minutes. I’m not one of those in our faction that go around screwing everyone in sight, and neither is he, as far as I know. There is no need to be physically close to anyone, just a search for release every now and then. He understands that and that’s what makes this work. That and the fact that he knows where my buttons are, and I know his.

“Excuse me for getting jumped by ten people while your precious soldiers ran away like little babies,” I snarl, biting down on his neck, hard. He has the advantage right now because I was in the tub, he is wearing an obscene amount of fabric that is in my way. With some acrobatics I lean back to reach under me and open his belt with one hand, he does absolutely nothing to help me but watches closely, smirking. I’ll get to wiping that off his face in just a moment. The very practical standard issue tactical pants are open and pushed down within moments and I tug down the elastic of his boxer briefs just enough to free his cock, not willing to waste any more time.

Using my legs I push myself up against his body and let gravity do the rest, dropping down again and slamming down onto him. It brings him back to the living and his smirk turns into a snarl, his fingers digging into my hips again. Eric pushes himself off the wall and starts to walk out of the bathroom while I dig my nails into his shoulders, pushing myself up and letting myself fall, at a slow and intense pace.

When I look at his face I can tell that something is off, that this doesn’t work for him as it usually does. It takes a few moments to sink in, but we’re so much alike that it’s sometimes hard to remember that we don’t share all the same thoughts and whatever little emotions we allow to seep through. Eric needs to be in control at all times, he hates feeling helpless as much as I do. And I, even though I can hardly be blamed for this, made him feel exactly that. I got myself captured and killed, that’s what everyone assumed, and there was nothing he could do. Eric might not care for me in a traditional way, but we have been doing this since my initiation four years ago. In some capacity I became a part of his life and I had the audacity to take that away from him. There will be hell to pay for the factionless, but if I want this to survive he needs to feel like he put things right. So I struggle to free myself from the confinement of his arms and am rewarded with a frown. If he thinks even for a moment that I’m giving him the upper hand he won’t like it. Letting myself fall backwards with my full body weight I loosen his grip and he snarls, trying to grab my wrist but I twist my arm away from him. In a flash I’m on my feet and pretending to walk away from him, but he wraps his arm around my waist and slams me into the sink. The vanity mirror gives me a great view of him and I meet his scowl with a wicked grin. “You fucking crazy bitch.” It takes about two seconds for him to force my legs apart and slam into me, making my hips collide with the cold porcelain. Eric pounds me relentlessly and I moan, even louder when he pulls my hair, twisting my head to the side. His eyes never leave mine in the mirror, his teeth are bared and he is spitting out curses with every thrust, insulting me and cursing my entire damn existence through his teeth. My body is covered in bruises from my restraints, my captors and my escape and Eric is adding more with each snap of his hip, each hard grip. But these new ones I won’t mind. The hand gripping my hip vanishes and comes down on my ass, hard, and my hiss elicits a chuckle. It’s a menacing sound, cold and cruel, but it goes straight to my core and makes my muscles tighten. I look at my own face in the mirror, flushed and blissful under scratches and bruises, and when I look at him again I feel my walls clench down tight. One last smirk from him and I unravel with a high pitched keen that is far beyond any words. Eric stares at me, watches me coming undone before he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Pushing deep into me he stills and I feel him come inside me with a low growl. His eyes fly open and the intensity makes my knees buckle. Panting I try to pull myself up but my muscles seem to fail me after the hot bath and exercise. Eric watches me for a moment, then he picks me up and carries me to his bedroom. “Maybe I missed you a little after all.” The murderous glare he shoots my way hasn’t worked a single time in all these years, but I appreciate the effort. “Shut up and sleep, Mina.” He positively throws me onto the mattress and stalks out of the room, by the time he returns with the first aid kit everyone here has at home I’m almost asleep and pretend not to notice how he starts to treat my wounds in a way that could almost be described as gentle.

PART TWO