Love is Easy 01: Dresden Problems

Kate Li stepped in front of him, a stein in each hand, German words on her lips.

Clark's heart sank. Time slowed to a crawl.

Kate was trying to help, but her presence escalated the danger exponentially. Trained fighters don't hurt innocent women, but there was a hate rally in progress and these men were... unknown. Kate was a woman, but she was also Chinese.

If they attacked her...

Clark had spent the last years of his life avoiding conflicts he couldn't win, walking away to avoid pain. His business. Elise.

But he had been lying to himself. Walking away only traded pain for regret.

Words from his father echoed in his mind. Why did he always have to be right?

He wished his brother Marcus was here. But he wasn't. It was only Clark.

He made a decision to fight. Clark couldn't stand idle and watch Kate get hurt. It was a stupid choice, guaranteeing the worst possible outcome. The thought of more violence sickened him, but it didn't matter anymore.

In addition to their skill, what made these men truly dangerous was their intensity, a disproportionate desire to hurt. The duo wouldn't expect to be squaring off against... someone like them. It was Clark's only edge. He needed to end the fight before they realized he was cruel too.

Maybe his father would finally be proud.

He saw the instant their fever broke. A look at Kate. Then another to Clark. Postures relaxing. Accepting beers from Kate. Drinking but not smiling.

They were safe. For now.

Clark wasn't religious, but he sent something primal and sincere out to the universe, for sparing Kate if nothing else.

He turned his shoulder and inched away. It felt terrible leaving Kate on her own, but it was safer. She had them under control, and his presence could only agitate.

The moment she broke away, Clark looped his elbow around hers.

"I can't decide if that was brave or stupid--" she started.

"We're leaving," Clark said. He started walking, guiding Kate with his elbow. She wasn't quite fighting him, but she wasn't helping either. They needed to clear about 200 feet, get to the corner and down a side street, out of view.

"Why? Whatever you did seemed to scare those assholes away."

As far as she saw, Clark had used a mix of physicality and bravado to defuse an unfair fight. Kate wasn't wrong in principle, but she missed the source and depth of the real danger.

He didn't answer. They walked down the block, almost to the corner. Kate pulled her elbow free and stopped.

"Where are we going?" she asked. Her arms flailed, voice raised. Not good. "The hotel is that way."

Clark flashed his eyes over to the German men. Had Kate's flailing and pointing caught their eye? They weren't moving. Yet.

Clark's heart was pounding. This could still go wrong.

"Please," Clark said. He couldn't give Kate more than a half second of his attention. He hooked his elbow around hers, this time pulling.

Kate slipped away again and took a step back toward the men. Clark could just run. Kate would be fine. Probably.

Fuck.

"What is going on?" she asked.

Clark had no idea where to begin. Every approach to this conversation sounded crazy.

"Those men behind you are dangerous, don't--"

Kate craned her neck.

"--look. "

"Your friends?"

The duo looked at Kate.

"They aren't my friends."

Clark was running out of time. He needed to make this real. Quickly.

"Have you ever seen a fight, a real fight, one where someone got hurt?"

Kate didn't answer immediately, instead she stared off into space... remembering? Clark saw her swallow. His heart was pounding.

"Yes," she said finally.

"Was it bad?"

Kate took a deep breath. She nodded.

"What almost happened was worse, could still be worse. We need to--"

Clark dared to divert his eyes to Kate.

"That's not possible," she whispered. Her posture shifted, defensive? He overshot the mark. Kate looked at him, suspicion in her eyes. "Why do you think... what makes you such an expert?"

It was a fair question. How to explain a lifetime of dealing with Chuck Miller? Of fights with older kids, of designed adversity.

"That was me," he said finally. "Thirteen years ago."

Kate eyed him with suspicion. "You seem fine."

The men started walking toward them. Fuck.

"I wasn't the American," Clark said. He watched her face, waiting for a moment of recognition. He needed to hurry. "I was the Germans. I walked into an unfair fight and won. The other guy didn't walk away at all."

Kate fidgeted. Uncomfortable. It was getting through, but Clark was out of time. He needed to run.

Goddammit Kate.

"He didn't die," Clark whispered, using the memory as leverage. It still hurt, but he didn't need tears and guilt. He just needed Kate to move. "But he was changed."

Kate went pale.

Run.

"Please Kate," he said. "If those men catch us, I won't be able to control what happens next. Just a moment of trust. Please. We are out of time."

Clark extended his hand.

Kate took it.

Then they were off. Turning his back made Clark's skin crawl, and it took everything in his power not to run.

They rounded the first corner without being attacked. He didn't look back. Then another block. Clark dropped her arm and peaked back around the corner. The men were gone.

Clark closed his eyes, finding a small piece of gratitude.

Then he threw up.

--

They reached the hotel. Clark was shivering, but had no memory of being cold.

Kate seemed confused, maybe angry, and he didn't blame her.

"I need to explain," Clark said. It was important that Kate knew... what? That he wasn't a monster?

Not anymore.

He needed her. They needed each other. One more day.

It was the truth but not all if it. Kate was his brand of witty and confident. Their experiences, for good and for bad seemed to echo. She was immensely attractive. Long legs and nice ass, a flirty laugh and a knowing smile. Clark liked her, cared what she thought.

"I don't want to care," Kate said. She took a step toward the elevator.

"You might have saved my life."

Kate stopped.

"If you hadn't stepped in with your charm and your smile..." Clark trailed off, not wanting to dwell on what had almost happened. "It was so close."

He poured emotion into his words. Her posture shifted. Something relaxed. Kate took a deep breath.

"I didn't want to like you," Kate said.

Was she implying that she did?

Kate looked ready to bolt, but she didn't. Her lip quivered. "You really scared me tonight."

He wanted to hug her.

"I'm sorry. I was scared too," he said.

"Let's say I believe you, about those men," Kate said. Her voice was barely more than a whisper. "Why do it? The American kid was an asshole. Obnoxious... You didn't have to risk--"

"It doesn't matter," he said.

"What?"

Kate was pushing him toward something important, an understanding he had never articulated.

"Those kids were ignorant, but also innocent. Drunk yes. Belligerent yes. They deserved a crack on the jaw, not broken arms and... and worse. It's like..."

Clark trailed off, staring at the floor, looking for a metaphor. "If someone is in the ocean, and you see a shark. You don't worry about whether they are a good person or a bad person. You pull them out of the water."

He was getting through. She looked solemn, almost on the verge of tears.

"What about the shark?" she said, voice small.

Clark hadn't just rescued the sandy haired American, maybe he had rescued those German men too. There was more than one kind of pain.

"When you... hurt someone," Clark said, "the best case is pain. Regret."

Kate hung on his every word, a tremble as she spoke. "What's the worst case?"

As much as Clark hated himself at times, at least he wasn't his father. "You feel nothing at all."

Kate looked wobbly.

"I'm so tired," Kate said. She turned toward the elevator.

"Is it okay if I ride up with you?"

She nodded.

--

Clark brushed his teeth and took a shower.

He seemed to have salvaged his relationship with Kate. The innuendo was gone, just shared pain and longing and some unknown mystery that circled her.

When he closed his eyes, Clark saw her face, raw and vulnerable in the lobby, then biting mischief while scaring frat boys. She seemed immensely capable and refined at times, goofy and awkward at others.

What did he know about her? Almost nothing. Maybe the hollow pit of want in his stomach was a desire to learn more.

They had one more day. Clark needed to keep his shit together, convince a skeptical customer. Win, for both of them.

There was a knock on his door. It was Kate. Had to be Kate.

He looked out the peep hole. Her hair was wet, but she was otherwise unchanged. Same solemn look. Clark was in shorts and nothing else. He opened the door anyway.

Kate wore thick flannel pajamas and no shoes.

"I want to say something," she said. He saw shock on her face when she registered his almost nudity. "Can I... can I come in?"

It had been a long night, jet lag and the stress of violence, even if it had not quite materialized. Despite all of that, when Kate walked into his hotel room, with her delicate beauty and complicated mix of emotion, he didn't stop feeling exhausted exactly, it just mattered less.

The citrus smell of her shampoo filled the space as she followed in behind him. Even in PJs Clark noticed the curve of her hips.

Kate sat down on the inside of a twin bed. She wouldn't look at Clark. Was she afraid to meet his eyes or afraid to look at the rest of him? Clark sat across from her, so close their knees could touch.

Although Kate was acting evasive, something about her bare feet made her seem oddly comfortable, maybe even vulnerable.

"Kate?"

"Why did you have to be so nice?"

Her knee touched his. Tired as he was, it still filled him with a nervous excitement.

What would it be like to kiss her?

"I never wanted to be a 'nice' person," she said, "just a capable one. I thought... I wanted to be strong enough to be alone."

"Needing other people isn't weakness."

Kate took a deep breath. She set her jaw, expression hardening.

"You're wrong about that. Caring about you... is a weakness, a strategic error." Kate reached out with her petite hands and Clark took them.

The moment was intimate, but not really sexual. Kate was mad at herself for liking Clark? It felt like the sad moment right before the end of a relationship, not like the beginning of something new.

"I don't want to be strong tonight," she said.

Her dark eyes turned up at Clark. He saw nervous desire.

It was like they were having parallel conversations, passing near each other but never quite touching. It had been that way.. not all day. When had it started?

Just kiss her.

Her melancholy was tied up in going home, proving something. Maybe Kate had her own "Chuck Miller." She had eluded to something before, a condition of going to London...

"What was the thing you promised before you left for London?"

"What?"

"Your dad, before you could leave..."

Kate closed her eyes, almost like she was remembering. She sighed.

"I promised never to date any foreigners." Kate hung her head.

She was beautiful and clever and way too proud to ever admit defeat, but most of all Kate Li seemed lonely.

"And you never--"

"I kept my promise," she said. Her posture shifted, stiffened up. Kate pulled her hands away. "I can be strong for one more night. Even if it hurts."

Clark watched the window of her desire close. Kate slid back on the bed, putting a little more distance between them. She looked conflicted and guilty and sad. "I'm sorry," she said.

Clark found one more thing to regret in a lifetime already too full of them.

He put a hand on her knee. "It's been a long night. We should get some sleep."

Clark expected her to get up, to watch her walk away, but Kate didn't move. He waited for her to do or say anything.

"I don't want to leave," she said. Kate's eyes kept avoiding him.

"Then don't."

He wanted to kiss her, but the narrow distance between the beds was insurmountable.

"I don't know what I'm going to do," she said. There was a note of existential anguish in her voice. Clark was sharp enough to know this wasn't truly about sex, but not sharp enough that he could fully understand her.

He was also so very tired. Maybe she would make more sense in the morning.

Kate was frozen. Clark turned off the lamp then slid under the covers. Faint light seeped under the bathroom door, barely enough to see.

He could make out Kate's silhouette as she slid under the covers of the other bed. Clark sighed. He had been hoping for a different outcome.

It was probably for the best. He tried to think about tomorrow, about a meeting that would define the rest of his career, reorganizing arguments and data before bed.

The moment his head hit the pillow, Clark Miller was out.

--

Clark jerked awake. The remnants of a nightmare still clung to him, echoes of anger and regret.

Someone stirred against him.

What?

Kate. She was below the covers, nestled against his arm. Clark felt the tickle of long hair on his skin. She must have moved in the middle of the night.

A soft hand slid up his bare chest. He felt a stir of attraction.

"Okay?" she whispered in his ear. Clark breathed in her words like they were oxygen.

"Yes," he whispered, not understanding, but not needing to.

She snuggled up closer, her breasts pressing against his arm. He felt soft lips against his neck.

"Uh, Kate?"

"Don't talk," she said, then kissed his neck again.

Clark rolled on to his side. He couldn't see much more than the silhouette of petite shoulders and hair.

Where was this coming from? Kate had wanted to stay the night, an obvious green light, but then the strange emotional discussion and--

She leaned forward, soft lips brushing against his. He felt her breath, could just barely make out the outline of her expecting eyes.

Clark's indecision evaporated against her lips. He reached for Kate, hand sliding over rough flannel, finding her firm ass.

Kate shimmied her hips, and Clark pulled her tight, leg finding a home between her thighs. He felt breasts against his chest, pressing through rough flannel, his erection against her belly.

Kate broke away from the kiss.

"Only tonight," she whispered. "One night of weakness."

Clark didn't think. He just explored, running his hand from her ass up her back, under the fabric of her shirt, along the taut contours of her body.

Kate worked small buttons while Clark ran his hands back down to her ass, under pajama bottoms, finding only smooth skin, no panties. He pulled away just enough to slide her bottoms off, his fingers lingering on toned legs and soft skin.

It was too dark to see much of anything. Clark had the feeling Kate wanted it this way. He didn't mind. He would navigate by feel. And taste.

When the bottoms came off, she was naked from the waist down.

Kate wrapped her leg around him again, this time he pressed directly against her flesh, a delicate warmth of her pussy against his leg. He felt a flurry of activity as she worked faster on the buttons of her top.

Only tonight. He tried to put that urgency in to each kiss.

Kate freed the last button and slipped out of her top. Pale skin reflected more of the light. He could see more detail, could see the contour of small breasts and tight stomach, the curve of her hips and thighs.

Clark licked her neck while his hands explored, lightly pinching and teasing her nipples. Muscles deep in Kate's thighs tightened as she moaned.

She reached under Clark's shorts, finding his desperately hard cock.

"I want to feel something," she whispered, her hands running up and down the shaft. "Even if it hurts."

Kate rolled on her back, Clark immediately on top of her, grinding between her legs, tongue and teeth on her nipple.

Clark lined himself against her. She bucked her hips against him, trying to impale herself on his cock.

Only tonight.

He was desperate to be inside her but wanted more. Clark had to make the most of this fragile moment.

He licked and kissed down her flat stomach, his cock against the smooth bedsheets. Clark curved his hands under and around her inner thighs, spreading her legs while he ran his tongue closer and closer.

He ran his face through coarse pubic hair down to her pussy.

Clark explored Kate with his tongue, down and around her folds, getting familiar with the most intimate details of her body. He breathed in her scent, lingering soap and the subtle smell of arousal. Clark kissed around her labia, nibbling and tonguing his way until he found the more solid nub of her clit.

Kate shuddered when he ran his tongue across it, followed by small phrases in Mandarin, involuntary words of pleasure that she cut short. Everything about Kate was quiet, intentionally so. Her words were whispered and her cries subdued.

Clark focused on her clit, sucking and licking, pressing from the bottom with his tongue, holding it in place with lips and teeth from above.

Her breathing intensified, small whimpers between each breath, Kate grinding her hips into his face rhythmically, like she was trying to catch an optimum stroke.

Clark followed along with her writhing hips, never breaking contact. She grabbed her breasts, desperate, so close to finding something critically important.

Then Kate was coming, bucking her hips against his face, arching her back, lifting her ass off the bed. Clark felt a deep clench in her abdomen, muscles seized in ecstasy, struggling to stifle her cries.

She collapsed on the bed, hips still writhing in the after shocks of pleasure. Her breasts and belly were heaving as she struggled to catch her breath. Slender fingers ran through his hair.

Maybe quiet sex in the dark was her way around a promise, as if this moment was transient, nothing more than a dream.

He didn't know for sure, and it no longer mattered. There were only two things that mattered in the universe. Kate's need to be filled and his ability to do it.

Clark slid off his shorts then dragged his lips along her stomach and breasts, positioning again between her legs.

He pressed his cock against her. Clark could just make out Kate's eyes and the shape of her face.

"It's okay if it hurts," she whispered.

Clark leveraged his hips, pressing his cock against her, pressure building.

Was she--

Kate gasped as he slid inside of her, fingernails digging into his back.

"Is this okay?"

Kate's only response was a moan.

Clark went slow, experiencing the comfortable vulnerability of Kate Li.

She felt wonderful around him as they made love to her rhythmic breathing, the world's best guided meditation.

Occasionally, her steady breathing would be interrupted by a sharp cry, temporarily overwhelmed, unable to control her whimpers or the fingernails along his back or arms, and for as much as she tried to remain stoic, Kate groaned when his hips bottomed out against her ass.

Clark had his face buried in her neck, nestled in her hair as he approached the edge.

"I'm close," he said.

Kate didn't respond. She was lost in the experiences of her own body.

They hadn't discussed or planned for this moment.

At the absolute last moment, Clark pulled out, the memory of her around his cock sufficient to push him over the edge.

He spasmed in ecstasy, the first shot launching jism across the top of her tight stomach. The next shudder landed lower, near her navel. Clark leaned down to kiss her, his cock against her tangle of hair. One final spasm against her.

Even post orgasm, the heat from her lips and the feeling of his cock against her felt wonderful and intimate. He never wanted this moment to end.

Kate kissed him like she was grateful, tender, lips lingering. His one regret about the darkness was that he didn't get to see the emotion in her eyes.