Broken Windows

And that's what gets her over the edge. She stops. She's lost. That's fine. That's all she needs to be right now. I'm a bit upset at the lack of touch, but I'll get another.

She clenches and tenses and flexes. Something else creaks in the room, but nothing breaks down. Except for her. There's my name in there somewhere with the noises she makes. There's another curse of the money put into my body. There's a damnation of the world that led us together and another one that it took so long for us to be like this. I agree with most of them. Should have done this after my first deal. Should have done this during the first deal. Should have done this the second we locked eyes in that crowded club.

Hers is short as well. I tease and play a bit more than she did with me, but I don't want this to exhaust her. I want one more idea I have to be real and then we can see if she has something in mind for us. I'd probably be a bit too tired at that point to go on. She's shivering. Chem is shivering and quaking and quivering all while my mind wanders to what we could do further. She lets out a long ugly sigh into the darkness. The single blade of sunlight has moved a bit. Not a lot, but it's getting along quite well.

Then I am under her again. One moment of lapse attention and every bit of my world is wrong. She's over me and enticing me. There's a soft laugh in me. That same contortion and I can't move anymore. She's such a fast learner. I'm staring down a lilac flower before it's taken away. Climbing ivy up her neck and I find her mouth, eyes dancing with satisfaction. She shuts up when I kiss her again, Chem kisses me back. I taste myself on her, raw body and sex and work and smoke all through it. Bodies and layers and boundaries pried open and sewn back together. It's sweet. All of those things come together into something sweet and pure and raw. Her forehead touches mine and we just stay silent together, watching each other breathe, counting our heartbeats, letting the seconds tick on by without anything to come after. Chem gets bored and that's fine. I'm bored too. Better still, we seem to be having the same idea.

She moves away from me, giving me room to breathe. That's nice. I need a moment open and free, everything open and spread. The AC's kicked on and it's a bit chilly. The thin coat of sweat chills me. I'm awake. I'm aware. There's a leg creeping under my me, up my back. It tickles. I like it. I move my foot a bit so she can lay her head down comfortably.

We interlock, rubbing and touching and grinding. I shiver at the touch. She sighs. I glance all through her body, an endless sea of flowers and vines all interlocking and blooming. My skin is all pale and smooth, save for the scars. Chem has a point, I think, all that color and shape over a blank canvas. Maybe not flowers, but swords and skulls like she said. Maybe shapes and scales and dragons. So many options and I could be painted and sculpted just like her. That would be nice. She starts moving and I can't think of anything anymore. It's just motion and feel. It's just the rocking and grinding and everything we can give one another. I move in circles. She likes circles. I like circles. We match and roll through it. I keep it steady, even as she wants to go a bit harder. We can do that in a moment.

Chem, for all her wonderful qualities, is not a patient woman. I can understand that. There are not enough hours in the day to draw this out any longer. She will have to go to work at some point and so will I. The deadened swarm in my head would probably be buzzing with calls across the city if not for the smoke and the gum. So, we best hurry up and get this over with. I move against her heard, weeping arousal from the both of us making the movements nice and slick. She is warm, so incredibly warm. She is soft and strong and pushing against the shapes and patterns in need. I go faster, goading her to do the same.

It's a game now, to see how fast we can make the other move. I slow for a bit, and she takes that as a win, only to gasp and moan as the shape of my hips changes again. Not always the fastest, not always the strongest, but she likes the new way better. We stay there, locked step and even. There is the next second we have together and that is more than enough. My breath hitches and catches. A small spike of sensation up my spin and I keep going. The same happens to her. I watch her stomach flex and clench and hold the knot of muscle. Everything is tense, shining under a thin coat of sweat. She's panting like a dog. I work my lip for a moment.

"Together," I moan, "I'm close. I want it to be together."

She nods. That's the most I can get from her, but she slows down a bit. There's a bit more work to get her there. There's one more change we have and that's what gets her going. She's frantic now, panting and biting and scratching at everything in the room. Her release is soon. Mine is even sooner. We are close, so close to one another, walls crumbling down, windows open and curtains billowing. The world is open to all of us through that one little sliver of burning light. It lands on my eyes and that's not enough to stop me.

I can't tell exactly when it starts, but it does start together. We keep grinding against one another, slick and tight and verging on manic. It is incredible. The knot is cracking and breaking and shattering within me like crystal and glass. Everything is open. Everything is bare. Chem takes it all and shares hers with me. It is such a wonderfully beautiful moment of pure white bliss.

Hers comes down a bit before mine. She is left panting and slack and dead to the world. I am the same. Nothing at all matters. I am sated. I am calm. I am loose and relaxed and spent. I can't think. I don't want to think. There is only the pleasant buzzing of my mind seeping down to my toes. Everything tingles and sparks and dances together. Her warmth is still on me. I can't feel my legs.

I muster every ounce of my strength to roll and turn and come onto her chest. Her heartbeat is so strong. She kisses the crown of my head and I stare into the petals of a daisy on her breast.

"That was the best thing I've done in a while, Chem," I sigh. Everything is warm and glowing and soft. It's all collapsing into a dead star under a black abyss. I'm tired. I need a good long nap that goes on for a fortnight.

"Don't call me Chem," she hums, "That's what the Salamander calls me. That's what work calls me. My real name is Chamomile."

"That was wonderful, Chamomile," I say. My finger traces her collar bone. I clamber up and plant a soft kiss on her cheek. She turns me towards her lips. A soft gift of pressure and heat.

"Do you mind if I stay," I ask, "Don't really want to move right now."

I don't get a word in response. Something swarms under her skin and I am lifted up, full princess carry and staring into Chamomile's eyes. She's smug again. I don't reverse it, mostly because it would probably cause us to break something. Also, because I'm not sure my legs could support it. I'll allow it this time. There's a promise of a warm bed and more blackout curtains and that can get me through a lot.

---

My head hurts. Not from all the drinks I had, but from the reenergized swarm in my brain. It's angry, like hornets. Every second, they sting and bite at the folds of gray matter. I bury myself in the blankets and that doesn't help me. Nothing helps me. It's all terrible and bad and I miss burying my face in heavy breasts that are covered in tattoos. I want that. I want soft skin and warm touch and a bit of strength to push and pull and fight against. I have a warm spot that feels like Chamomile. I move into it and that still doesn't help with the swarm. I also had to kick out poor Tia. She deserved none of that.

I missed 15 or so calls yesterday or last night or whenever that was. I was supposed to go out and patrol, or file some paperwork, or shoot some things. But I didn't do any of that. I just slept and fucked and maybe drank a glass of water or two. I should have drunk more of that. The film over my teeth tastes odd and heavy and my head, my head keeps buzzing. People are mad at me. They shouldn't be. They should have gotten laid and then no one would be mad.

I can't sit in bed all day, however wonderful that would be. I shuffle and clutch my forehead. My feet hit the thin carpet. There's a glass on the nightstand and it's empty. That's terrible. I have my underwear on and that's okay, I guess. Not really sure how I feel about that. I get to rambling. I flick through the swarm and make the buzzing stop. Another pops in just as I finish and that one's quiet too. I have to actually become alive before I do anything else.

Chamomile's rifling through her fridge, bent over and showing me everything. I can't see the head of the cherry blossoms under her pants, but I see everything else. It calls to me, begging for me. She gets a good hard grip and I get a good fistful of ass to play with.

"You want breakfast?" she asks, wiggling and moving and tempting me to bring her back to bed because that's where we belong, "not cooking anything, but I have the pouches."

I'm distracted a bit, but I would not turn up a good pouch of goo. It would help bring me alive. She interprets my groping as a yes and I get a fun little sack in my hands.

"Sorry," she says, "But I gotta run. Boss has been ringing me nonstop."

"Same," I groan, "Precinct's going bonkers without me. I thought that they'd be fine, but apparently, they're all really incompetent."

She laughs as she slips through the oncoming rush. I rip my open and start on it. Strawberry, I'm so glad it's strawberry.

"Do me a favor," I say, "The next batch of gum I get, see if they could make it strawberry. I can't stand the orange."

"I'll see what I can do," says Chamomile, "They're such a bastard about some things, though."

I'll take that. I can already feel the simple chemicals run through my system and synch with the swarm. That calms them down. The little machines start taking things where they're supposed to, and all is well. All is chugging along with the same purpose. And that purpose needs me somewhere else. It will have to wait. I have some other things I have to take care of. Like a shower and a change of clothes and maybe another pouch if I have any in my fridge.

"Any idea when the next score's going to come in," she asks, "Boss is asking."

And we're back to business. The walls are up and everything's seal. I don't see the thin blade of sunlight. The swarm gives me the time and I sigh. Too early to be up and about once I'm on the clock, but not early enough to go back to bed.

"No clue," I say as I empty my breakfast, "But shouldn't be too long. I have your number anyway."

"You have my business line. But yeah, I'll tell them that. And you'll get my other line."

And I receive it. It is nice. It comes as a fun little grope of my body and a promise to do something else some other time when we both decide that work is not important. Tia's watching us from on top of the shelves. She doesn't want pets from me. I haven't earned that right.

The goodbye is a little awkward, mostly because we're both half there. I'm putting out fires and she's mollifying an eccentric ego. But it's nice to have someone see me off with a smile. I build up all the walls I have over that core. As I plug back into the swirling cloud, it refuses to dissolve. Everything's sealed shut now.