Summary: Niran and Moira learn more about one another in the bedroom. will neurodivergence cause someone to fumble a bad bitch? lets find out
WC: 1309
Tags/Warnings/Notes: eventual hurt/comfort, this chapter has lite smut, alcohol. i really tried to make nirans adhd and moiras autism a thing w them too
ao3 link
Moira pocketed the cigarette and slid the door open, holding it for their guest. Niran was flattered to step first into the eclectic bedroom. The bed was made but the sheets had been meticulously untucked. Only a sliver of city light illuminated the space; Moira had pulled the shades down almost all the way, leaving a uniform crack for the world to enter through. The temperature inside was not much warmer than outside. Niran wrapped himself tighter in his blue knitted cardigan and took a seat on the stool at the foot of the bed. He watched the lanky geneticist take the bedroom in long strides, their lengthy dark robe sweeping the floor behind them like an elegant shadow.
“I take it you’re used to the cold,” Niran said.
His words stopped Moira stopped in their tracks. Their slender body loomed over Niran; to be any closer would be to straddle him. Niran’s heart raced at the idea.
“I am happy to keep you warm, Niran.”
A tsunami of competing thoughts and emotions crashed into him at once. His bodyguards, and ultimately friends, had all warned him that Moira O’Deorain was so unempathetic and ruthless that they were beyond alien- they were evil. At the same time, he could only imagine the scoldings he’d received when he returned, condemning his risky behavior. He felt understood in their presence, unjudged- Moira was familiar with risk taking. And that didn’t even account for Niran’s instinct- something deeper than fear crept up his spine in the presence of the controversial scientist: a yearning intrigue.
He loved looking at Moira in the low light of the bedroom- it dramatized the sharp features of their face, the mysterious darkness under their mismatched eyes. The experience in their hair was sexy, their silver streaks paired well with their domineering posture. Moira was haunted by something, and that made them exquisitely dangerous. There was nothing Niran loved more than a new experience, an impossible challenge.
“I’m sure Osaka will wait for us,” Niran agreed.
Niran was surprised to find his fingers along the back of Moira’s thigh, inviting them closer. Cashmere was smooth in his hand as he raised it to Moira’s ass, squeezing gently. He bit back a gasp as their nails trailed along his jawline before wrapping around his chin. They dug into his skin ever so slightly and Niran loved the sting. Moira’s grasp was firm as they tilted his face upwards. Ruby and sapphire burned into bronze; Niran’s gaze was locked into place.
“If you wish to be fucked then you will do as I say. Untie my robe, Niran.”
“Yes, Doctor.”
Moira’s grip loosened and the thumb of their short-nailed hand slipped between Niran’s lips- a reward for his good behavior. His eyes shut and he lost himself to his oral fixation, his tongue swirling around their skin. Niran let his desires wander as he made his way to the robe’s knot, helping himself to the feeling of their lithe hips along the way.
Moira pulled their hand back as the knot was undone. The robe’s descent was slow to Niran; he was drinking in every ounce of the geneticist. Moira was domineering in nothing but their black boxers. Niran ached to taste Moira’s tits, bared freely to him. Their physique may have been slender, but years of fieldwork and missions had provided a leanness to their body that was evident in the tone of what muscles they did have. Niran wanted to be wrapped in those long legs, engrossed in what lay between them. He wanted Moira to hold his head in place with those strong arms-
Fixating on those arms brought a splash of cold water on Niran. His reaction did not stem from the pure aesthetic of it- in fact, the cruel edge of Moira’s right arm could be an intimidating turn on- but because he knew how it came to be that way. He knew that Moira’s wound was self-inflicted, a result of taboo experimentation, but he was not prepared for how it had worsened from what the public had last seen.
The violet entropy was growing across Moira’s chest and up their collarbone like a life-threatening moss. The veins of Moira’s infected flesh bulged angrily to the surface, as if they were holding back the might of the artificial decay through sheer force.
“Moira! You’re withering away.”
The words escaped Niran in a hasty whisper before he could stop himself. Moira’s sexy glare recoiled; face suddenly hard to read. What was once an intense, unending gaze from Moira turned into a full avoidance of Niran’s sightline. His heart hurt with the responsibility- the wrong thing always seemed to slip from his mouth before he could stop it. He felt lonely not meeting the stare of those ruby and sapphires.
“I’ve always thrived under a deadline.”
The delivery was dry, even for Moira. Never one to wait, they picked the robe off the floor and slipped it over their shoulders, over their arm. They didn’t bother looking for the tie, allowing the garment to drape open while they walked to the other side of the bed, stopping at their nightside table.
Moira pressed a button on what had seemed to be an antique wood nightstand, revealing a virtual light screen. They made their selection in the blink of an eye and the nightstand’s surface opened down the center. Decanters of amber nectars and a matching bowl of cocktail ice emerged on a disc of hard light.
It was only the guilt that kept Niran’s mind on track. Rays from the disc bathed Moira in gold, bringing out the subtle indigo fibers of the robe that hid too much for Niran’s liking. He wanted to slip under that garment; trail his kisses along their arm, into their collarbone, then plunge below their torso. He wanted to heal Moira’s soul with his mouth. He bit the inside of his lip before attempting to explain himself.
“I’m sorry I said that so abruptly. Your artificial decay has progressed beyond what I was expecting, and I spoke without thinking. I hope I haven’t upset you.”
Glass clinked like windchimes as Moira fixed their drink, whiskey on rocks. They nodded their head in acknowledgement of Niran and closed their eyes to think. He was delightfully surprised to find himself familiar with this reaction: years of rooming with Satya had taught him patience in these moments.
Moira finished their sip, then held the cool glass against the purple of their throat. Niran fought the urge to imagine his tongue on their skin. The geneticist exhaled and folded one arm under the other.
“Little inventor,” Moira began slowly, letting their pet name for him take up the space between the two, “Would you like to go out for a meal?”
Of all the things Niran guessed Moira would say in response to his apology, an invitation to dinner was not one of them. Then again, nothing on this night had gone as he predicted when he snuck away from his hotel, and he was thankful for it.
“Um… yeah! That sounds excellent.”
Moira nodded before finishing the rest of their drink in one swig. Niran watched in comfortable silence as Moira rummaged through their suitcase. He suspected that the familiarity went both ways: Moira showed no modesty, unbothered with his clear view of their naked breasts. They slipped into a navy turtleneck, tucking it into loose matching trousers. The pale brown trench coat they topped it off with flourished around them as they opened the hotel door for Niran.
“Walking through the lobby will attract less attention than using biolight to depart from the balcony,” said Moira.
Niran was thrilled with Moira’s ribbing.
“I’m not sure I entirely agree.”
“Oh?”
“A handsome couple like us? People won’t be able to look away,” said Niran.
