A Little Broken [Three Trinities Haven Church]

[Sasha]

He pushed himself onto her, it wasn't without consent, but it was more than he'd ever have hoped for before this moment. Not that he'd fantasized about her, well maybe a time or two. The leather always fit so well and... he groaned as he ravaged her throat with his mouth wanting to taste all of her.

The fury of the heavens swirled about him. It was more than the ice cold rain and the hail that fell from the sky like tiny hot irons on his hot skin. The fire burned bright, but the fuel that lit the actual fire was wet and starting to give way. But the power around him churned. It wasn't his, he felt a threat and he pulled away from Oriena and pushing her off of him. There was danger and he looked around wildly the flame from the pit leapt to his hands. It gathered between his fingers and he was ready -- ready for what he didn't know. "Something wrong. There's danger."

Sasha's fury turned to concern and when he could not find the source of the presence he felt. There was fear. The rain and hail fell and the fire inside him died. The world felt dull and soft instead of bright and hard and so full of life. Sasha fell to his knees in the now melted snow, the water was freezing and it was getting colder by the minute. He reached for that power -- that fire, but he couldn't find it. Couldn't grasp it. Where was it? His mind was a fog of what had happened. He didn't remember what he did. He remembered the words, but there had been more to it, what was it? How?

[Oriena]

Sasha shoved her off, and if it had been to pin her down she wouldn’t have minded. But the mood changed, and as she fell back braced on her hands, catching her breath, her expression darkened. Danger or not, it wasn’t the action that riled her, it was that he ignored her afterwards – fire in his hands, tense for a threat he couldn’t see. And neither could she.

She had some guesses though.

The night the refugees fled the tunnels for the church there’d been a storm. In the morning everyone had been whispering about the omen of a skull in the clouds, its cavernous eyes electrified with every flash of lightning. She hadn't seen it but Zeke held all her Almaz debt, and Ori had some investment in digging out his secrets, so she’d point blank asked him about it. Satisfaction lit his own eyes for the accusation. Between puffs on his joint he’d only giggled. But the sly look said everything. It wasn’t the only time people had remarked on the weather around the church – it seemed to have been the last place in Moscow to clutch the final tendrils of summer, long after the cold claimed everywhere else. Blessed, that's what the rumours said.

Ori stood, lifting her face to the stinging rain. She had no idea if her nose was still bleeding – she couldn’t tell, the entirety of her was soaked through, hair plastered, leathers cold and heavy, her tank a second skin. She opened her mouth to wash the blood from her tongue. Every lash hurt, and it only wound her tighter.

“Zeke!” she yelled. The shrieks of surprise and dismay in the shadows around them had long faded as those who shared the night fled for the safety and shelter of the church. She had no real idea if he was out there, or if he could just rummage around in the heavens from the enthronement of his comfortable cushions. She didn’t care. “You’re a cunt!”

Sasha had crumpled, as washed out and useless as the now dead fire. Which she supposed had been the thing to rouse Zeke’s interference if someone went running scared about the towering inferno. She glanced down at him, still irritated with how quickly he forgot her; how quickly he went from blazing her pulse to looking so pathetic.

Her fingers laced through his sodden curls, lifting his face to her, and the gentleness of the gesture might have almost been affection but for the disdain in the shadows of her expression.

“Sweetheart,” she said, intentionally scathing. “You aren’t going to make anyone pay from your fucking knees.”

Her chest was still heaving; partly because it was fucking freezing, and partly because the heat between her legs was still begging her to do something about it. But a man on his knees held no interest for her unless she put him there. She pushed his head from her hand in dismissal.

Oriena didn’t give second chances. You had to wrest them from her. She didn’t tell Sasha to get the fuck up, but the challenge of it was there in the heated contempt of the look she gave him. It was as much of an invitation as he'd ever get, but since no one ever really dared she wasn’t going to wait for him to wilt back into the shadows from which she’d dragged him instead. So she began to walk away.

[Sasha]

It took Sasha a while to understand what Oriena was shouting into the heavens. His mind was fogged over with loss of something. The warmth escaped him and Oriena... her name was Oriena. He still head the bag she preferred in his hand. The smooth glass shard he'd found so long ago clutched between his fingers in the other and he squeezed tighter, the raw edge of the damage he'd yet to inspect cut into his skin.

The bit sparked the memory, the raw power. He remembered what he'd done and he gripped the shard harder and pulled upon the power inside. It was glorious and fulfilling like nothing he'd ever felt. Sasha stood up. Wielding this destruction he felt like a different person. The power flashed in front of him and fire erupted in front of Oriena to impede her way. It was only a brief wall, a moment or two to stop her. He called to her from where he stood watching her. "This is Zeke's doing? This feeling is Zeke?" He turned in the direction the feeling came from. It wasn't from everywhere, but he could point if she so desire to know where The Angel of the Undercity was at the moment.

The rain still fell but Sasha's fires were all raging inside, none of them burned in the world around him. Sasha back towards Oriena and made a decision. He walked in front of her, pushed the small bag with her favor at her chest. It wasn't gentle, it wasn't meant to be nice. "On me." He said and shoved her not so gently pushing her away. She wanted to walk. Okay... But he'd said he'd share, and he was nothing if not a man of his word.

Sasha looked past her and towards where that menacing presence lie. He wondered if Zeke felt him in the same way. He drew upon the power, drank in as much as he could, it seared his soul. It brightened the world, but he knew if he drew more he might perish in the flames.

[Oriena]

The fucker cut her off with fire, and if he wasn’t going to wilt and she wasn’t going to get laid, then that only really left getting angry. At her most intense all Ori’s emotions burned hot, and this was no different. Aside from the faint woozy rush in her head as her pulse spiked anyway, which with a snarl she was quite prepared to ignore. A lot of blood gone this time, then. But what did it even fucking matter.

The flames only blasted for a second, but the scorch off them had a primal effect. Without the buffer of lust to make it exciting the fire flashed an unwelcome memory of her fight with Ryker; of the sticky tear of her skin as it melted against the pavement. She wasn’t afraid of the flames; just angry that they had been used against her. And she never needed much of an excuse to get riled.

The power flooded into her, the submission she teased him with only moments before, except this was the sort apt to throw consequence to the wind. The punishing rain only bit harder as her awareness grew brighter. Her bones ached with the cold already. Around them the unnatural burst of winter weather found its own rhythm, perhaps bringing the promise of a true storm. In its midst Ori was soaked and seething.

She didn’t give a fuck about Zeke or Sasha’s burgeoning awareness. She did give a fuck about his dismissal, something she handed out with impunity but never reacted well to herself. Sasha shoved the drugs against her chest. She fell back a step with the movement, surprised, but didn’t catch the bag. It hit the ground, flattened quickly under the violent downpour, forgotten.

Chest heaving, the frozen rain choking up her eyes, Ori glared after him. She didn’t ask herself why she was actually angry, or why she was prepared to take it out on him. But watching him look away, searching for someone or something that wasn’t her, lit an incandescent fury in her soul. It reminded her of Brandon walking away, leaving her shielded and screaming on the ballroom floor. Of other things too, memories roused by the ijiraq but harder to recall. Just the feelings. And she hated the fucking feelings.

You are wanting, the whispers muttered. You are weak. You were always weak.

A flick of the power sent the vodka bottle hurtling into his shoulder. It didn’t smack hard. Well not that hard. It didn’t shatter anyway. What was left of the vodka splashed into the freezing rain and dissolved away. She stalked right after it, intending to shove him in the chest. She wanted his fucking attention.

[Sasha]

A cold shiver ran up his spine and a bottle smashed into his shoulder sending him back a step.  She rushed after it and shoved his chest must like he'd shoved hers.  His attention snapped to her and there was fire inside.  Sasha reached across the distance as he took that step forward and grabbed her throat. "I thought you were leaving."

---

She intended to provoke a visceral reaction, but what happened was his hand snapped out and collared her. From the pathetic, confused shell he’d been moments before, Ori did not anticipate it. The surprise flared to something darker almost immediately. Her muscles were coiled tight from the altercation, her breathing sharp, but the pressure shivered something in her that made her very aware of her body. The frustration didn’t differentiate between violence and lust; it demanded relief and she didn’t care how it came. Beneath the volatile glitter of her glare, her chin lifted a fraction, baring the throat he thought to grab – reminding just who the fuck he thought to do it to. She leaned into his grip much as he had done to hers, daring him to consider what he was doing. To fucking own it.

---

She leaned into his grip and tilted her head higher.  The power raged through his body and he closed his hand a little tighter. It wasn't to harm her. He wanted her to breath. He wanted to control, he pulled her closer to him and pressed his lips to hers, the same fire from before raged inside him.  The rain pelting their skin with ice.

There was a passing thought of finding shelter. But he didn't have anywhere else to go.

---

With the power still wreathing around her she was hardly defenceless, and she certainly wasn’t afraid. His grip firmed, and every nerve she had was attached to the wrap of his fingers against her skin. It wasn’t a confrontational touch, not like hers had been, and she didn’t think he did it to seek retaliation. Much like the press of his thumbs into her spine, she didn’t quite know his reasons, only that she let him. This time there was no uncertainty that it aroused her though. It was a strange sort of craving. Oriena was a woman who took what she wanted. But this, she waited for.

He pulled her into him, and her eyes flashed dangerously. But this time his lips did not commit theft, caught in the rush of an unfamiliar power unleashed through his body. It wasn’t uncontrolled, and nor was it forced through viciousness. It was command through possession, a heated hunger he exacted on his terms, not hers. It told her exactly what he wanted with its intensity, and she responded with a matched need. Her own words came back to bite her. Only this time she did no biting. Grab it by the throat, she’d told him. Make it yours.

---

She didn't fight him. He wouldn't say it was willing but it was resisting either. He pulled her backwards through the slush on the ground. There was an alcove not far from them. His fingers wrapped around her and his other wreathed the stone in his hand. He needed both but he was unsure of what would happen should he let go. The power was raging and he wanted the fire inside. Fed his passion and right now he wanted to ride it.

He was not sure how he did not stumble into the alcove or slip and fall in the slush. And he pushed her up against the wall. He kissed her. "I. want. you." He punctuated each word with a tightening grip around her throat, still not enough to hurt or take breath from her. He just wanted her to know.

[[ with ori ]]

[Oriena]

He pulled and her fingers wrapped his wrist, but only to keep her balance. She wasn’t entirely sure why she didn’t fight it, because even Nox would have felt the bite of retaliation for such a stunt. But then their’s was a violent need; they fought and fucked, but ultimately Oriena’s control was the overpowering force; the promise she made time and again, so Nox could let himself go. It was never made in words. Just in deed. He couldn't hurt her. Even when she let him fulfil the horde’s darker desires on her. And it wasn’t like the carnality didn’t work both ways.

Without warning Ori’s back braced against a wall, and suddenly the pelting rain was just noise around them. It was scant relief, and she shivered in her freezing skin, but maybe not from the cold. Sasha’s hold on her felt almost sensual, strong but not suffocating, and it made her ache. He tasted like the rain. He tasted like heat. For a moment she thought he might push her over the edge with that alone; a tightening grip and those three low words. Her breathing had gone from angry to deep, and she was aware of each one he allowed her. It wasn’t quite submission she gave him. He didn’t earn that from her, whatever she teased. The lust of it hazed her eyes, locked on the darkness in his, but there was a heated spark that promised she did not know what she’d do if he let her go. Not to enact punishment. This wasn’t the stirrings of a violent reaction. It was hunger, though.

Pinned like that she couldn’t chase his lips the way she wanted, and she wasn’t sure if it was the moment or the man she actually desired, but she knew she felt it intensely. “Show. me,” she said in response, breathy, half in command, and half a purring beg.

[Sasha]

The words opened a seive. Not that he'd been waiting for consent but once given he didn't hold back.

Sasha leaned into Oriena and pressed his body against hers releasing her throat as he took her lips with his in a firey passion fueled but the fire with in. The shard in his hand he shoved into his coat pocket. And the power still raged when he released the jagged glass from his palm. Satisfied with the idea he didn't hesitate to take what was offered.

The hand that was now shard free began to work at her wet clothes. Nothing worse than wet denim was wet leather. Not that Sasha had much experience with either.

The fire flowed through him, around him. They both shivered in their wet clothes. There was little control in the thought as the hand against the stone wall of the alcove was a conduit for the heat he felt. He pushed the fire into the wall. It didn't ignite but the warmth spread from his hand across the wall. It felt nearly as good as the woman who he pushed up against the stone.

The power purged his fears his insecurities. He was better, stronger. He was the fire and he poured that knowledge, that confidence into how he tugged at Oriena's clothes and his own freeing them for what they both were eager for. The warmth from his hands, (the weave he hadn't known what it had done) still radiating through the wall. The dead plants creeping up the alcove walls, wilted further, some catching a tiny flame before poofing out of fuel.

The alcove warmed with the body heat and the pulse of Sasha's power through the wall. And Sasha barely noticed anything beyond Oriena's flesh against him.

[Oriena]

His mouth and hands were full of need, like a man starved. The release of his grip broke the spell on her a little, but only in so much as it returned her agency. His shivering body pressed into hers. She felt the moment he let go of any shred of self restraint. Because the heat.

Sasha pawed at her soaked clothes, and some of those touches made her gasp, though she wasn’t sure if that wasn’t just a combination of the cold and the pent up coil of her own need. She shed the waterlogged jacket easily enough, but

the 
fucking
pants.

Those were stuck tight as second skin. Slices of air made it easier work, and she felt the sharp scratch against her own flesh underneath, not knowing if it left marks though it certainly drew noises from her throat. One leg was so ruined by scars it hardly mattered. And Ori rarely minded those kinds of souvenirs.

The wall behind warmed rapidly, and she arched a little, understanding it was him but also understanding his power was a loose canon. But it didn’t catch, and it didn’t burn, and soon she only revelled in the contrast of ice and heat. Sasha hungered. The passion consumed raw and his touches were confident but they weren't knowing. It was instinct as untempered as the waves of power he must be sending into the wall. Ori liked rough and she didn't mind sharp and quick, but right now she wanted release. He started this with a hand around her neck. And he could fucking finish it.

When her hand curled into his hair it was as firm as before, but this time it didn’t push him away with disdain, it guided him downward. Over the soaked curves her tank still plastered. He didn’t resist. She hooked her leg on his shoulder when he was low enough, helped peel the leather still glued to her hips and thighs. He didn't need much encouragement beyond that but her hand remained anyway, and she told him what she needed.

At release the leg she was balanced on buckled a little, and she slid a moment, shoulder stinging. She was panting when she caught herself. The wall scalded almost too hot, and she could smell burning by then, though not of flesh. She didn't offer to return the favour, and she wasn’t sure it was what he was thinking anyway as she pulled him back against the wall.

[Sasha]

The power pulsed through his blood. The shiver of of his spine and the slicing of her pants, a warning that she was using her power? It was just a passing thought before he as guided by expert hands. Sasha let her guide him. It wasn't like he knew what he was doing. He'd slept with only a handful of women and they almost always took control -- the men too. Taking what they wanted. No more. But he wanted Oriena, wanted to possess her and she gave me that moment.

Her release made her weak and he smirked but it only lasted a moment before she was yanking him to his feet and pulling him against her. His mouth found hers and he pulled himself free of his wet torturous binds.

Mouth. Teeth. Tongue. He wanted all of her, couldn't get enough.

The fire inside raged, and the pulsing of his power through the walls drew more heat. The tiny fires lasting longer as larger piles of debris caught flame from the scorching heat along the walls.

Wasn't much longer before Sasha's own release came. The fires burned brighter inside. His chest heaved and his heart raced. He drank the power and his orgasm as one. The heat from the walls, the fires doused as if spurned by the rain and hail from before, but the fuel that had pushed their flame gone as Sasha drew upon it, seized it all inside.

It burned, and it was his. A nagging feeling -- too much and it would burn him too. But he only gave it a passing thought as the wall behind them grew cold and Sasha' skin raged hot as if he'd been sick with a thousand suns.

The hand at the back of his head gripped tighter and tossed him against the wall. The force of impact drew his breath from his lungs and the fires ceased. They fled like the dark from the light. He shivered in the cold focusing on what had just happened.

[[ ori modded with permission]]

[Oriena]

It was savage and up against the wall. Her legs wrapped, fist in the back of his hair. Burning need, literally. And then it was over. She was still riding her own waves, breathless as him, and for a moment it was just that sound and the rain.

Then the fires around them doused all at once. She felt the heat die in the wall behind her, a chill creeping in suddenly from behind, and now it was just Sasha’s body pressed against her that burned. Ori had spent enough time around Nox to know what the idiot was doing.

For fucksake.

She could have jammed a shield over him. She didn’t. Instead she shoved him off and into the wall. It was less elegant, but he’d likely take kinder to it than being cut off from the Power entirely. Given she’d felt the sting of its theft once first hand, it was certainly the method she’d prefer. Not that he was likely to understand her abrupt viciousness unless she spelled it out to him. She raked the wet hair away from her face, eyed him under her lashes, but he was only leaning against the wall and shivering in the aftermath.

Ori’s back stung like sunburn. There were scratches on her thighs but no blood as far as she could discern in the shadows. The pants were completely fucked though. Nox would probably be pleased about that – he hated navigating the leather in the heat of the moment. Ori sorted herself out as best she could, wriggled back into her underwear afterward. She kept half an eye as she did. Bending made her head swim faint, which made her grimace. And she was fucking freezing.

When she was done she reached to grab Sasha’s chin and pulled his attention to her. She’d never really looked at him before. He was the kind to sink into the shadows, and before her little ijiraq issue, Ori hadn’t dabbled much in drugs anyway. She’d seen the ravages of too many junkies growing up to care for it. “It’ll burn you apart if you do that,” she said bluntly.