Paresthesia Pt. 12

"Yeah, but this could have been so much easier."

"Did you have fun?"

"Really? That's why? I was supposed to have fun with it?"

"Hannah, this is a game. This is all a game. And games have to be fun in some way. So did you have fun?"

She looks at me like I'm an idiot. The whole world at my fingertips, every ounce of gold, every dollar in every wallet, every unlocked door smashed in, and it would only take a moment of my time. I could do it. I could just slip into the gray and do all that. But I don't. For a very simple reason.

"You're insane," she says.

"Probably. So are you. You do insane things to me. I like being insane if I'm with you."

"I don't even know where to start."

"You can answer the question."

"Yeah. Yeah, I did have fun."

"And do you want to play again?"

"Of course, I do."

"Then that's it. I play the game the way I want. Sometimes I lose. Sometimes I win. But I like playing. And you needed to learn how to play again."

She turns and links her arm into me, laying her head on my shoulder.

"God, I don't even know what to say right now," she says.

"I love you," I say.

"That works. I love you too."

We kiss and it is calming. For a moment all the gray fades to black and there is nothing at all. Nothing but her and her touch and her presence beside me. We break and we have arrived.

"Still want to do this," I ask.

"Of course. It's fun, right? And I want to play," she says, "Kind of a waste to come all this way and not do anything. Hey, hey. Look."

She points towards a strolled holding a child and said child is holding a candy bar, half of it smeared all over his face.

"Should I?"

"No. Bad Hannah. Bad. If you're going to do that, at least wait until he's aware that he's having his candy stolen. Give him a chance to fight back."

"How sportsmanlike. But fine. Fine. I'll be a good girl for now. The baby can have his candy."

I move away from her for a moment. I bring down a football by a little bit. Guy was going to be short, so I made him not. It all worked anyway. He'd look cool and probably get a high five. I did my good deed for the day.

"Leave him alone," she says, "He would have gotten it. Now you got him all mixed up and fall on his ass."

"Maybe. Maybe not. He'll be fine. Probably."

"Do you want to steal his wallet while we're like this? We could."

"Eh, not really. Already did that bit a little while ago. Maybe put the shades in his back pocket so that they break when he falls. Gotta put some bad with the good and all that."

She snorts a laugh and we keep walking through the park, naked and open and slipping through without a soul noticing. It's odd, so odd and still to have so many people around us and only two have a modicum of agency. Hannah gets distracted by a butterfly frozen over a flower, the straw stretched down into the flower meat. I pull her away until we slip down into the bushes.

Hidden, and I'm not sure why we want all that. It doesn't matter where we are, but it just feels better with something close to a wall between us and the world. The gray grass is still soft and comforting, tickling my skin. I turn up to the sky and watch the clouds hang there in their stillness.

"This is so cool," she murmurs, "Is it always like this with you?"

"Sometimes I only slip in for a moment to nudge something. I usually don't spend a lot of time in here at once. Keeps it special, y'know?"

She sighs and rolls next to me, idly running a finger up my chest, across my neck, along my chin, all to go back down and settle once again in the swirling shapes.

"I can't believe you shaved for me," she sighs.

"You keep saying I'm smooth and that you like that. So, I made myself smoother."

"You're going to itch like crazy in a few days."

"I am aware. And it felt weird wearing silk with hair in the way."

She kisses my neck and my hand goes to her back, running the spin, up to the base of her skull, all the way to her tail bone, diverting to find the lines of her muscles, the expand and contract of her breathing. It's slowly getting faster again. The wonder of the gray pulled her from the mind of simple thoughts. But it's coming back. It's coming to her, the show and the privacy, best of both and denying the drawbacks of the other. She has me and I am right here, only for her, despite the eyes just looming on the other side of a second hand's twitch.

I am kissing her back, gently, cautiously, prodding into the energy she runs on. It is calmer now, though no less intense. She wants the world from me and she already got it gifted wrapped with a monochrome bow. I rose to the challenge and succeeded. Nothing more to prove, only a victory to revel in for as long as we wish.

So, it is languid, this time. There is peace, no frantic desire to complete everything before the sun rises, or sets, or the phone rings, or the door knocks, or the mind comes to some conclusion that there is something better to be doing, however asinine that may actually be. There is just the moment, only the moment, with our bodies together, loose silk and nothing at all. Our shoes collided at the edge of our little clearing, just hidden enough to soothe the little nibbling doubts that someone is watching. There is not. There is just us.

Hannah moves on top of me and presses down with her entire body, punning me in place. Hands, she is doing nothing but running over my body in aftershocks. She has put on a delayed depth charge in her hands. A glance turns into a deep worming strike down to my bones. A poke goes right through me to the center of the earth. Her lips are pulverizing me and I can do nothing but laugh. Even now, in my world, there is such immensity to her power. Even when the boiling blood cools to whisps of steam, she is still so vast and infinite.

And I am not idle as well, digging little daggers into the power, letting it squeak and giggle under the feather touches. It is not enough to stop it, but enough to guide it along channels that I want. It all leads to her hips over mine, straddling and pressing into my erection. She is the machinations of the earth, turning stone to rock to gem. She is the shifting tectonic plates gently griding away and forming mountains. She is the little shift of rock cascading down a mountain, knocking more and more and more out of place until the entire cliff is collapsing. And she is propped up on her elbows, gazing into my eyes with a blue more vivid, more intoxicating than the gray could ever be.

"You ready," she asks, with a gentle kiss on my nose.

I don't answer. I move my hips up and connect us once again. She gives a quake and a spasm before descending down into a playful giggle.

"Oh, you bastard," she sighs. She takes a moment to get used to the shape again, a swirl and a dip, moving for movements sake.

"We've the bad guys," I say, "We do bad things. Like mess up people's game of catch. Like take small amounts of money from people's wallets. Like paint over their cellphone cameras. And surprise good guys with sudden penetration."

"But not candy from babies."

"There are limits. And you don't really like sweet things, right?"

"Right, but I won't pass on a free candy baraaAAAaaaAAah. Don't do that while we're talking. That's not fair."

I play with her on my off hand while she's still. It isn't fair, but we are now playing with each other. It's only right to cheat and bend the rules whatever way they go. She has an unfair advantage anyway.

She drops slowly and I wish she would take it even easier. All the time in the world and then a few moments more. But she meets my hips and arches her back, stretching everything she is up and back. Her chest shines forward and I am lost in the maze of looking at her. Every inch, every part, everything leads into everything else. There is motion and river and movement. I cannot stop and linger. The slight well of her chest descends to the taut plain of her stomach, going further into the valley of our joining union. I move in her, side to side, up and down, watching my shape change hers. Her legs go to the earth by my hips, and I feel her scoop the vibrations around me. I am enveloped in her power, nestled and tucked and safe in the yet of the storm. She laughs again and matches my motions, moving and jostling and watching my body go through the same contortions.

"Did I ever tell you I love your eyes," she says after a groan comes and fades into the echoing stillness.

"I love yours too."

"They're just so green. Like really green. Like, the grass that should be green isn't as green as your eyes."

"And you have really blue eyes. Like really, really blue. I could just fall up into them forever."

"How can you fall up? That doesn't make sense."

"Well, I'd fall into them and you're on top of me. So, I'd have to fall up. It's the only way it works. Trust me. I've done the math."

She rolls those beautiful eyes and starts the climb again, getting used to the hollow gap inside of her. The empty void stays for a moment and then gets scraped away, only to come back just as strong. No fancy maneuvers, no complex patterns, simple up and down, fill and void, in and out. And it is perfect. Simply perfect. My hand flails a bit until it finds hers. Our fingers interlock and squeeze. We continue into the gray.

She makes her noises and I make my, our signal to the world that we are here and everything is as it should be. I notice a flock of birds overhead, still in their flight. They were here when we started. They will be here when we are done. I take my other hand to her stomach to feel her muscles flex and move over me. I can feel myself through her, the layers of muscle and skin not enough to hide it. I move to her hips and start fighting to pace, getting her to work a bit more, find different avenues, different paths for us both. I angle and she angles as well, pulling different sounds as they come into play. It is simple. It is all so simple. The crash is still there at the edges, pulling her down a bit harder than she should be able to, letting her squeeze just a bit tighter, moving her a bit faster.

I am moaning with abandon. The outside world does not exist. And even if it did, it doesn't matter. I have Hannah riding me and kissing me and holding my hand. That's all I'll ever need.

She goes quiet and her climax is coming. I keep everything where it is at the moment where she drops, the hand, the hips, the rhythm. It's the simple one that does it, that lets her come to the edge of our moment. And it takes her a good long while to actually reach there. The silence she has grows louder, trying to drag out the build to it for as long as possible. I don't know why. We're going again. That's already been decided by powers so much more than the both of us.

My hand goes to her lips and teases a bit more. That's enough to do it, to tighten every muscle, to lock every joint, to let her collapse into herself like a dying star. She is loud again, crying into the endless expanse of stilled time. And it is intense, sending her entire body detonating into me. Shockwaves burst and pop all around us in a chorus of thunderclaps. I can only hear the high-pitched ringing in my ears. I will go deaf by the end of this, I can feel. If not, then soon.

I do not let the wall get in the way of my own release. I don't care. She will be there forever and ever and ever and it is coming to and. Just this instance. There will be other moments in the future, moments in the past to reminisce on. And this one here is special. The ones ahead, though, will be just as special.

She is spasming and cracking and shifting down into me with destructive intent. Her hands are on my shoulders and her fingers are digging into my skin. I will be marked and claimed as my hands leave the same imprints on her. She is loud and deafening and my head slowly starts to fade into the white that nothing can pierce. My breath hitches and slows as she finally plumets into the final cracking rend of reality.

I don't hear anything other than the harsh ringing of too much noise. I can only feel the waves of energy down my body, pouring into her. Again and again, my body revolts and clenches without control. I do not want control I have Hannah on me and I am in her, marked with black lipstick and white-knuckle imprints. Her release pools across my stomach as mine pools in hers. It is long, so long, our mutual destructive tour of white space and sharp light, loud noises and ringing ears. I want it to last forever and ever, frozen in the gray time where nothing else could possibly matter.

She finds my head and fumbles with the proper alignment. Seems to like my chin for whatever reason, but the blind search eventually leads to us embracing and kissing, filly connected in every way possible. My hands are on her back, pull her tighter. The earthquakes have subsided to a deep, gentle thrum and I am enveloped in the caress of the earth. We ride together int the end of the world, slowly gleaming through the white until the gray makes itself known again.

Hannah has gone still, so still, a soft rise and fall of her back still signaling that we have time together in our stopped moment. IT is time enough to ride through the end of our end. The pulses fade and dim to gentle waves, clearing the body and leaving it hollow. Nothing remains. Her body is there and it is happy. My body is here and it is happy. Nothing else to be at all. Nothing else that could even be.

There's a hum that comes through the ringing in my ears. It's her. She's doing a happy little song that doesn't quite hit a melody through her din. I chuckle a bit and feel the slow ebb of eagerness slip away. She does not try to make anything more than a moment held together with one another. She is the song that has no notes, only the droning vibration beyond my eardrums, right in the center of my skull. It is loud. It is cacophonic. It is glorious.

We are fully immersed in the numb fuzz of afterglow. The world does not register in our minds. There is just the other body, just the other soul slowly sinking to the bottom of an endless sea, humming nonsense babbles that convey love and understanding and warmth.

"That was nice," she mumbles through the fog, "Kind of sleepy now."

"Must be wearing off," I whisper in her ear, "Shame. I could go again."

She whines over the lost session to her exhaustion. And that's fair. I can't exactly deny her annoyance that the trip didn't last longer. It honestly lasted longer than I thought it would. Should have carried her out on my back from the Hall, which would have been adorable. But it seems that this was her limit, and I'll have to contend with the walk back to the warehouse by myself.

"That's not fair," she moans, "I want more too."

"I'll be around when you wake up," I say.

"But it won't be in here, though."

"I'll ask Ben if we can get a stash of his trick or something. Stuff spoils super-fast."

She whines again and snuggles into my chest, each heartbeat finally slowing until it is a bass drum dirge in her body. I kiss the crown of her head, still tasting a bit of gel and shampoo and sweat. I close my eyes for a brief moment and she does not snore.

She's turned gray, slipped back into the ceaseless march of the second hand, leaving me alone in my world. She could have stayed longer. She could have stayed forever. But she didn't and she can't. But we do have the world where it is all color and noise. That is something for both of us.

---

Sylvia took the glass to her lips and sipped. It was good champagne, one of the bottles she had stashed in the back of her little vault for special occasions. And this was promised as a special occasion. In theory, a grand celebration of triumph over the forces of good, a wretched buzz in the hive of scum and villainy.

It was mostly her, alone with Ben, watching over an empty warehouse that smelled of old smoke and stale beer and nowhere near enough bodies to excuse that fact. She took another drink and her glass was empty. She filled it, down the cup and decided that the bottle was a better vessel for her needs.

"This is the worst party you've ever thrown, old man," she sighed under a quick hiccup. Second bottle, or was it her third? She wasn't sure. Definitely not her first.

"Give 'em all a break," he said through a ring of cigar smoke, "My little voodoo potions take a toll. Can't have anyone rely on them long term. That'll put you in the grave. Speaking of graves, heard some of my boys lost some money. Care to explain?"

"They're fault for not betting on the right horse," she sighed, "Not my fault if they thought Deadman would pull some bullshit and take the belt."

"Heard it was a low blow? Not very sportsmanlike."

"I play to win and that's just the ace in the hole. Don't care who you are, a thwack to the jewels is going to put you down. Probably even work for you, too. Want to try?"

Ben chuckled and pulled at his tie, surveying the mostly empty room. A Droog pulled out their phone and pretended to take a call. A perfectly executed ruse to go on and do something more productive with their time, like go to a different party, or masturbate. Probably the second, if Sylvia had to guess. She should go do that too. It would be fun.

Another pull from the bubbly and she sighed, put up her feet.

"Thought Abbot would put something out by now," she said, not really expecting a response. Just some words to fill the vacant silence where nothing was happening. All the trouble went home to sleep off the excitement. Alessandra was apparently under curfew. Hannah and Evan, sweet, sweet Evan, were off cavorting in their endless honeymoon phase. And Abbot was lost in the maze of work, work, work.

"Give him a bit of time," Ben said, "He's only one man."

He chuckled. He chuckled every time he made a joke like that.

"Boss," called Ian from across the room, "Can we crack another keg?"

"Fine, fine. Go ahead. Just take it from the ones I put aside for this. And turn on the TV or something while you're up. Too quiet for my tastes."

The one holding of Troubles lost one to the task, rolling another keg from the wall, hitting the screen on his way.

"-underground sugar caves," said the man with gray hair on the TV, "And now we bring you a breaking report from the steps of the Hall of Righteousness. Over to you Arnold."

"No fucking way," said Sylvia.

"Damn, Abbot works fast," said Ben, "Thought this would be tomorrow at the earliest. But the 11 o'clock ain't half bad."

Sylvia reached across the table and tinked her bottle against Ben's cigar. Not quite the most refined toast they could have made, but it worked. And she laughed as the man on the street laid out the numbers, accusing and prompting investigating, allegations, rumors, hearsay, and just plain lies as they have been presented. And it is all officially out of their hands. The court, both of the public and their opinion, will do their thing and see what's going on with all that. All they could do and it was a hell of a show. Sylvia even got a little spotlight with her fight against Deadman, picking that textbook knee strike as a still. Good, it was all good.

Her phone buzzed and told her that Doppel was calling.

"Before you say anything," she said, "We're already watching."

"Well, that saves me a sentence," said Abbot, "But yeah. I did some quick work on that. Didn't even try to hide it. Almost like he wanted to get caught. Or just thought that he couldn't. Who knows?"

"Who cares? We did our part. Threw down a gauntlet and now let's see if they fly some more muscle in. Might actually get a challenge next time."

"Win clean against Deadman and then maybe you can talk big. A couple of us are stopping by the warehouse in a bit, just for a sec. Putting my campaign announcement together for tomorrow as well, so I can't stay too long. Party still on?"