between the initial grab and this newest cinch, there've been ample opportunities to end this. some are simple. just, even. the twist of his hips to plant her face down on the mat. sink his fingers further into the crook of his arm.. squeeze until she stops quivering. he considers it with the careful calm of a man unpressed for time. this isn't his point to prove. albert will walk out of this room with the same stride he walked into it with. his chin will remain high, his gaze an intrinsically appraising one, veiled and cold. he'll put distance between himself and the precinct, a wayward mission more due for his focus than the scraps someone, eventually, would scrape from the mat.
under that, however, is something more. primal in the exhale fanning her nape. jill's pulse, thrumming against his forearm, it pleads in wordless struggle, bleating for an end that could be dredged from the bottom of him. pulled forward with the muck and the brine of it all.. his cheekbone nestled near the base of her skull ; she'd fight it, but he could find the torque. he could twist until that savory pop! told him he'd done well. a limp body, still warm, rolled into whichever corner suited her. there'd be uproar. an investigation. there would be fallout and too many lines drawn for one man to tiptoe between. for all the option that it may be, he's turned away from it, quick as it rose.
" no, " pointed and quiet, her jostling rocks the both of them, the hand on his thigh failing to go unnoticed as it seeks refuge high and deep. digs for a pressure point he turns away from desperate fingertips and allows the momentum to veer in her favor. fun as it'd be to truly test her, there was ample justification in keeping her around. intact. on his side.
jill's want is to roll them one way, thrusted hips insisting the left and, for her trouble, he gives her the right. relents so as to revolve as far as an outstretched arm allows. not so much to boast freedom, but enough to say she's on the verge of it. would taste fresh air in desperate gulps while he, on his back, grins at the ceiling and gauges his want to return. see if that satisfaction can maintain itself under the tutelage of damning hands still in control of a wrist that, so thin, could be snapped with the right momentum.
to her credit, the angle is odd. not ideal. a swipe for his glasses might have skewed them briefly, but gravity and a nod ( jerked with necessity ) reseats them.
" impressive. " albert isn't panting, each inhale as stable as its predecessors, " a strange place to want me at, however. "
distance works to jill's advantage, but his is an appeal that bathes in the shadow of her oversight. where half-gloved fingers are counting a heartbeat that dances an erratic rhythm and the first in a pair of tugs shortens the space between them. even with shoulder blades firmly squared over pads, his strength supplants hers. all the reminder needed of those braggadocios colleagues she strives so hard to impress. he is her surrogate. he is the amalgam and the obstacle. the obelisk she plants her heels and attempts to budge with grit and frustration alone. but for each inch gained, her captain snatches back two. three. takes advantage of his composure to pivot, his stance righted to rooted knees and the arm still pulled is an easy target.
a chance to breathe may seem useful, but he was bred for purposes like this. scraped soles, long legs, someone less learned wouldn't be capable without causing unnecessary damage. they'd twist wrong. they would fall victim to an overzealous aptitude and the sudden armbar he traps her in would be disastrous.
instead, it teases fondness. an almost delicate transition, his thumb taps a casual beat to mimic the pulse sat below. crook of an elbow.. curve of a bicep. for each punch pulled, so too are hers. tact and training, there came a point where survival needed to learn its worth. utilize the weapons all were born with. blunt nails wouldn't suffice, but the teeth gnashed ? what he feels grinding under the pressure of a jaw so tense ? jill would get free when she accepted that not all skills need be tactical. not every technique was in a handbook.
" what are you thinking, right now. " was she in this room still ? how far did valentine's mind wander, left to the quiet grunts of a match decided hours ago.. before she'd descended that long, narrow staircase. before he'd accepted her request. albert's tucked her hand behind the slope of his shoulder, braced his own, conjoined, at the crux of her capitellum and humeroulnar joint for an over-extension that swears worse for his mercy's limitations.
" are you afraid to lose ? " defeat, for most, was a set-back, perhaps, but nothing so obtuse they'd not recover. they'd shake it off. let several missions patch up their pride. but her.. " the more you fight it, the worse it will be. "
