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[cryptofascist]

INBOX: DUPLICITY
username: lorca

Captain Gabriel Lorca.

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[cryptofascist]

Burnham?

[ Excuse you? ]

[intelligence]

That new program sends me a notification when you think about me. It's distracting.

[ Read: she is not immune. ]

[cryptofascist]

[ Ah. Well. ]

Only when?
Not how?

[ Sitting cross-legged on his desk in nothing but his captain's jacket, unzipped. Submissive collar sleeping coiled beside her thigh. ]

[intelligence]

I'm not objecting to the how. [ She's on his desk in many of her own fantasies, in fact. ] That's a contributing factor. To the distraction.

[cryptofascist]

I've still got it, you know.
The uniform.

[intelligence]

That doesn't surprise me.

[ Nor does the fact that the uniform features in his fantasies, but: ]

Why am I the one wearing it?

[cryptofascist]

[ She's not always. He'll distract her with one of those later. ]

It's something I've thought about since Discovery.

[intelligence]

That's a long time.

Is it about seeing me wear something of yours?

[cryptofascist]

While you embrace command.

[intelligence]

You thought about that on Discovery?

[cryptofascist]

I saw you.

[intelligence]

It was between me and Saru, when I left.

[ Which is as close as she can get to agreeing with him on this. She doesn't tell him that she was going to give it to Saru. ]

[cryptofascist]

It will be you.
Discovery, the Empire, wherever you go.
It's inevitable.

[intelligence]

[ Well, that didn't last. ]

I plan to tell Saru it's his.

[cryptofascist]

Why?

[intelligence]

I don't want it.

[ 'Want' here used as a stand-in for another word. ]

[cryptofascist]

She still haunts you.

[intelligence]

No, I do. What I did.

[ What she's doing. How can she go back home to captain Discovery after getting into bed with someone that betrayed their whole crew? ]

[cryptofascist]

Tell me what you did, Michael.

[ Stop carrying it, for however brief a time. Give it to him. ]

[intelligence]

I betrayed my crew.

I'm still doing it now.

[cryptofascist]

With me.

[intelligence]

Yes.

But not because of you. I chose this.

[cryptofascist]

[ She always chose. ]

You can't be someone you're not, Michael
There is no one like you.

[intelligence]

[ In her experience, what sets her apart has also isolated her. It's not a comfort, not that she'd expect that from him. But he can give her distraction. ]

I've changed my mind.
Feel free to resume your train of thought.

[cryptofascist]

[ She's not isolated with him. Of course she doesn't take that as a comfort. ]

How gracious.

[ He's changed his mind, too. There are other fantasies he's had all this time. Iterations on iterations, favorite scenarios and permutations. An arsenal of lust.

Lorca cuts a slice from one, just a flash and stab of gut-tightening sensation: her gasp intertwined with his groan, the bedframe slamming rhythmically into the wall, and a leather strap around his bedpost pulled taut. He denies her a glimpse of whose wrist it's tied around, whose body it is that's being rode into bed and who is driving a gouge into the floor with their hips. ]