( Chapel settles into quiet on the way home but it's a calm quiet, not the traumatized quiet from before. She feels a little more herself the longer she's away from that facility and the way she'd been made to do things with people she didn't want to be with (and didn't want to be with her, either).
Her normal ritual when coming home is to see if Gabriel's there and then follow his lead if he is. This is different. )
[ The silence is stiff. Lorca doesn't look at her, or the city they pass through as they near his townhouse. He focuses on a fixed, far-off point that is nothing and nowhere. A bump in the road and his jaw locks. On arrival, he bites down on a grunt, rising out of the seat.
Inside, he remains guarded against any sense of relief. When Christine speaks, he ought to tell her, "Of course not." He could at least look at her.
Instead, he responds with a tired, ] No. [ He doesn't mind. He couldn't care less. ]
( That's how it is with them normally and it's normal that she craves. Nothing about the experimentation was normal but Gabriel being curt with her is what usually happens - maybe she shouldn't welcome it but she does. It means nothing has changed. )
[ He nods and leaves her, ascending the stairs. He craves a bath himself, as well as silence and solitude. The shared meals and quarters wore on him as much as the treatment from the guards and scientists did. And then there were the lashings from Qi'ra, the wounds from which layered every encounter thereafter with significant pain. They aren't so fresh as to require Christine's attention, or prevent him from returning to work tomorrow.
He can't afford to miss a step.
Lorca soaks for well over an hour, shades lowered and lights dimmed to near darkness. When all heat has vanished, he pulls himself out. Lip curling as he cranes his neck, he gets his first look at the damage in the mirror. Red marks faded pink, long streaks striping his skin from back to thigh. Worth it, for what they gain him, yet he's never been more personally invested in acquiring a dermal regenerator. He dries off and dresses in loose, dark silk, soothing the memory of raw, utilitarian scrubs with cool luxury.
He catches up on the network and pays absent mind to the tribble until night begins to fall. He seeks her out, then. Less terse than when last he spoke, he offers her the command to follow, ] Come and have a drink with me.
( This is how they are. For two people in a relationship, they spend a good bit of time in their own company or in the company of others but this dynamic is perfect for her. She doesn't feel as if she's drowning the way she has with others who want all her attention all the time and she gets enough attention to think she's wanted. When Gabriel asks her to have a drink with him, she gives him a quick nod. )
Of course. You want me to play bartender or did you already have something in mind?
You know I like my drinks simple, but I'll let you pour.
[ A bottle looks better in her delicate hands, and she looks good serving. Lorca nods towards the stairs, indicating they'll be spending the night on the top floor. The view at night is no small part of why he bought the place. The floor-to-ceiling windows and spacious balcony couldn't be a further cry from the concrete cells they spent the last week in. ]
( As much fun as a cocktail can be, whiskey neat is always a good way to end an evening and so she ends up pouring for them both, putting away the bottle before passing Gabriel's glass into his hand. His first, then her own. If they're spending the night upstairs, she wants to be on her best behavior. )
I'm only having the one. I want my head clear.
( It's her personal rule for these things and while she trusts him enough to have sex drunk, she likes to have her senses sharp when they do because of what they do. Alcohol numbs the thrill. )
[ He notes the implication as he drinks, and contemplates. One or two drinks might be best for him, as well. He'd like to lose himself in her, but that's more dangerous than usual. As normal as they're pretending to be, neither of them are altogether well. Christine wants to handle the ordeal like a Terran but she isn't one.
And he is. If she has to tap out, he may not accept that with his typical composure. ]
Then I trust you're one hundred percent certain of that decision.
[ And the ones that follow. There's an undertone of warning in his voice. This isn't like any other night, and he'd say as much if not for how badly they both want it to be. He'll play this game with her, if she accepts the additional risks. ]
I am one hundred percent certain. I want my head clear when we're together.
( There is danger in being drunk when they play the way they do. One slip of the knife, one dulled response to a stimulus - it could result in her getting truly hurt. Gabriel isn't particularly affectionate when they play like this but she doesn't need it, either. She just needs the pain. )
[ Ever practical. It's one of his favorite things about her. Lorca reaches up, caressing her cheek with his knuckles, the pad of his thumb brushing her skin. ]
I need to be. I want ownership of myself again. I want to choose. This is choosing.
( Maybe it's a strange way to choose since it means giving over all of her control to someone else and just floating away on that feeling but she trusts him and she doesn't trust the city or what they make her do. They took her choice from her so she's taking it back. )
[ A low, contemplative hum as he searches her gaze. Uncertainty or weakness wouldn't make him deny her. She claims this choice, therefore she claims this mistake, if that's what it turns out to be. ]
So it is. [ His touch vanishes as he drapes his arm over the back of the sofa behind her. ] Come closer, then.
[ When she complies, he strokes his hand over her hair. Combs the tips of his fingers through it as he drinks. ]
[ Lorca smirks. At the moment, he's just enjoying the freshly washed feel of her. Soft and clean. It banishes the sense memory of concrete and scratchy, low thread count cotton sheets. ]
I won't. [ She wants to be treated like nothing happened? That's what she'll get. ]
( Chapel had never been into pain - this kind of pain - before meeting Gabriel. All of her previous partners hadn't been enough in some way and she'd pulled away and ran but with him, she stays. He doesn't smother her in feelings and talk about where they're going. He just gives her hours of pain intertwined with pleasure where she can blank out her mind and just exist for a little while. )
I don't want you to stop. No matter what I say or do. I want you to judge whether or not I can take it.
[ Lorca takes a telling breath in through his nose. She is asking a lot of herself. Maybe he should pretend it's asking a lot of him too. Act like he doesn't want to push her, strain her, show her what she's capable of. What he's capable of.
It's reckless, to do it the way she wants. No signal, no safety measures. Another night, he'd insist. Tonight, he would, but he knows he'd go back on it at the first sting from his wounds. She made it so by throwing away her consent. ]
No matter if you cry. [ He confirms as he pulls gently on her hair, gaze darkening. ]
Not even if I cry or scream. I trust you not to kill me. That's the limit. I need to...I need to blank my mind and I can't do it if there's limits set on it. I can't do it if I know in the back of my head that I can get out of it. You just might have to sew me up afterward.
( Gabriel is good about that part, at least, and her scarring has been minimal so far. )
[ He nods. He's always good for that, and Christine doesn't seem to care that he lacks a surgeon's precision with a needle. She wears the marks he gives her without shame. ]
Finish your whiskey, then. And I'll show you just how much you can take.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
cryptofascist) wrote2023-08-07 04:42 pm
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No one better.
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Her normal ritual when coming home is to see if Gabriel's there and then follow his lead if he is. This is different. )
Do you mind if I take a shower?
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Inside, he remains guarded against any sense of relief. When Christine speaks, he ought to tell her, "Of course not." He could at least look at her.
Instead, he responds with a tired, ] No. [ He doesn't mind. He couldn't care less. ]
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( That's how it is with them normally and it's normal that she craves. Nothing about the experimentation was normal but Gabriel being curt with her is what usually happens - maybe she shouldn't welcome it but she does. It means nothing has changed. )
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He can't afford to miss a step.
Lorca soaks for well over an hour, shades lowered and lights dimmed to near darkness. When all heat has vanished, he pulls himself out. Lip curling as he cranes his neck, he gets his first look at the damage in the mirror. Red marks faded pink, long streaks striping his skin from back to thigh. Worth it, for what they gain him, yet he's never been more personally invested in acquiring a dermal regenerator. He dries off and dresses in loose, dark silk, soothing the memory of raw, utilitarian scrubs with cool luxury.
He catches up on the network and pays absent mind to the tribble until night begins to fall. He seeks her out, then. Less terse than when last he spoke, he offers her the command to follow, ] Come and have a drink with me.
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Of course. You want me to play bartender or did you already have something in mind?
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[ A bottle looks better in her delicate hands, and she looks good serving. Lorca nods towards the stairs, indicating they'll be spending the night on the top floor. The view at night is no small part of why he bought the place. The floor-to-ceiling windows and spacious balcony couldn't be a further cry from the concrete cells they spent the last week in. ]
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I'm only having the one. I want my head clear.
( It's her personal rule for these things and while she trusts him enough to have sex drunk, she likes to have her senses sharp when they do because of what they do. Alcohol numbs the thrill. )
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And he is. If she has to tap out, he may not accept that with his typical composure. ]
Then I trust you're one hundred percent certain of that decision.
[ And the ones that follow. There's an undertone of warning in his voice. This isn't like any other night, and he'd say as much if not for how badly they both want it to be. He'll play this game with her, if she accepts the additional risks. ]
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( There is danger in being drunk when they play the way they do. One slip of the knife, one dulled response to a stimulus - it could result in her getting truly hurt. Gabriel isn't particularly affectionate when they play like this but she doesn't need it, either. She just needs the pain. )
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And you're sure you want to be together. So soon.
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( Maybe it's a strange way to choose since it means giving over all of her control to someone else and just floating away on that feeling but she trusts him and she doesn't trust the city or what they make her do. They took her choice from her so she's taking it back. )
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So it is. [ His touch vanishes as he drapes his arm over the back of the sofa behind her. ] Come closer, then.
[ When she complies, he strokes his hand over her hair. Combs the tips of his fingers through it as he drinks. ]
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( Maybe if she keeps saying it to herself, it will be true, and in this moment she needs to hear herself say it out loud. )
You don't have to be gentle with me. Ever.
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I won't. [ She wants to be treated like nothing happened? That's what she'll get. ]
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I don't want you to stop. No matter what I say or do. I want you to judge whether or not I can take it.
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It's reckless, to do it the way she wants. No signal, no safety measures. Another night, he'd insist. Tonight, he would, but he knows he'd go back on it at the first sting from his wounds. She made it so by throwing away her consent. ]
No matter if you cry. [ He confirms as he pulls gently on her hair, gaze darkening. ]
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( Gabriel is good about that part, at least, and her scarring has been minimal so far. )
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Finish your whiskey, then. And I'll show you just how much you can take.