How to Train Your Channeler

[Oriena]

“Saved you,” Ori repeated flatly, like she was testing how stupid it sounded out loud. “That’s generous.”

She didn’t slow, didn’t break stride. When she glanced at him, her eyes were cutting, not unkind but stripped of patience. “Ezekiel doesn’t save people. He trades in them.”

In her experience, Ezekiel’s brand of salvation was exactly why he was a cunt. He rented people out and called it mercy. But Sasha clearly called it purpose, and if he wanted to cling to debts and gratitude then that was his business. She wasn’t here to argue with a man who mistook predators for patrons. Nor was he the only one here who owed Ezekiel. Ori just had a clearer idea of how the so‑called Angel of the Undercity liked to collect.

Still, the word lingered. Owe. It felt sour, suddenly persistent. And not because of Ezekiel.

Because of her.

It hadn’t been said, but it hung there in all its shitty obviousness now: in the way Sasha followed when she told him to move, in the way he fell into direction like it was safer than choosing for himself. Sasha folded into obligation in exactly the same way he folded into fear. The same way he’d thanked her earlier, like pain was just the cost of being rescued. Accepted without question.

“I’m going to make sure it never finds another skull,” she snapped in answer, jaw tight. “Yours included.”

The words came out sharper than the question deserved, not because she minded him asking, but because of what sat beneath it. Ori used people. Always had. Leverage, favours, fear, want: tools like any other. She didn’t lie about it, didn’t apologise for surviving the only way the world had ever made room for her.

Using someone wasn’t what bothered her.

Her hand slid from his arm to his wrist, thumb pressing there, catching the quick stutter of his pulse under her touch. She didn’t yank him closer. Didn’t need to. She felt the way he keyed into it – the way attraction and uncertainty tangled in him like crossed wires. Like he braced for impact and hoped for it all at the same time.

The recognition sparked back at her before she could stop it. The heat in her flared low and sharp, unwelcome, irritating, and impossible to ignore. Not the easy appetite she was used to. Not the casual indulgence of bodies she could take and discard without thinking. This was the kind of desire that made her suddenly aware of how close she was, of own pulse answering his, of the space between them charged and thin.

It pissed her off.

Ori stopped, turned fully toward him, close enough that he’d feel the heat of her, the danger in it – and the fact that she knew exactly what this was doing to him. She pushed closer, just enough that his back brushed the damp stone behind him. Just enough that there was no clean space left to retreat into. She didn’t look away. Didn’t soften. If anything, her thumb pressed harder, claiming the rhythm like it belonged to her, like she hadn’t just felt her own body react in kind.

“You don’t owe Ezekiel shit, Sasha. And you sure as fuck don’t owe me either.” Her gaze didn’t flinch, sharp enough to flay, intense enough to burn without the power. “I didn’t rip that thing out of your head to put you in my debt. I don’t need payment. I don’t need gratitude. And I don’t need you offering yourself up like today bought you a leash.”

The words were blunt, almost cruel. She knew he was lost. She knew he was grateful. But there was something raw under her anger which she refused to acknowledge. The ghostly echo of that boot jammed against her throat; the whispered promise of worthlessness; a memory that wasn’t even her own but which still fired her blood. Only in this scenario, it was her fucking boot. She paused; measured, intentional. Close enough that the line between threat and invitation stayed razor-thin.

“If you want me,” she finished, voice low and dangerous, “it’s because you want me. Not because you’re scared. Not because you’re polite. And not because you think getting to keep your brain inside your skull means you owe me your fucking body.”

[Sasha]

Sasha wasn't sure what was going on. Though he did understand Oeiena was annoyed with him. Between owing Zeke and here closest he was confused with it all. He swallowed hard. But the words wouldn't come.

It was like she wanted to offend him but still pressed against him. It was confusing. "I don't whore my self out either." He pressed a hand to her chest just above her heart and pushed softly. He didn't push hard it wasn't a want it was to reinforce that he could leave if he wanted to.

"You are a beautiful and complicated and very confusing woman."

[Oriena]

Something inside her went taut and deliberate, like a blade paused mid-arc. Sasha’s hand on her chest was a mistake. Not because it was crude or presumptuous, but because it was careful. Because he didn’t shove. Didn’t grab. Didn’t try to take anything. He just touched her where he could feel her heartbeat and pushed softly, enough to prove a point rather than make distance.

That he could leave.

It was only a gesture to speak whatever words died in his dry throat, but it shivered a reaction anyway. Heat spiked sharp and immediate, a flare of instinct that had nothing to do with permission and everything to do with being touched where she rarely allowed it. Ori's pulse jumped under his palm – traitorous, furious – and she hated that he might feel how deeply she was breathing then.

Her eyes darkened.

For half a second she looked like she might break his wrist. Or kiss him again. Or do both and call it a lesson.

Instead, she leaned in. Not enough to press him, or close the space, just enough to take it back.

“You really have a gift for saying the wrong thing in exactly the wrong way,” she murmured, her voice threaded with something dangerous and amused. Her gaze flicked to his hand, still resting there, then back to his eyes. “You know that?”

She didn’t remove his hand. She wasn’t giving permission. She was waiting to see if he’d take it anyway.

Because he could add contradictory to his shitty list. Right then Oriena wanted him to cross the line, to take the risk and show her exactly what he did want – not with words or caution, but with intent. If she forced it now, the suspicion of obligation would burn it to cinders. Her ultimatum wasn’t without her own thorny reasons of course, though she wasn’t likely to ever explain the parts of her he branded confusing and complicated. By the same token she was waiting for him to shrink his hand back like it’d come too close to an open flame. Ori was quite used to capitulation. If he pulled away it settled something; a return to equilibrium maybe. And she wanted that too; for him to ruin it before the sparks ever caught another flame.

[Sasha]

Sasha gave oriena a wry smile. He was frustrating her as much as she was confusing him. It was a challenge of sorts. Some risk was necessary. But it could just s as easily burn him. Fire burned inside. All types. He was confused. But that fire burned.

That light he’d found before. It was still there a pulse in the darkness. Fire. Heat.

He stared into her eyes trying to figure out what she wanted. But he couldn’t tell. He had to make a choice. She was unreadable.

He grabbed the collar of her shirt and pulled her close. He kissed her hard.

[Oriena]

Sasha stared at her like he was weighing which version of Oriena he’d summoned, and for a heartbeat she was certain she knew how this went. But there was no tentative brush of fingers. No soft slide upward, no careful exploration of the place where his hand already rested and where her pulse was still betraying her. The realisation hit her sideways and sharp: that some treacherous part of her was waiting for the gentler answer. For the soft, almost reverent way Sasha touched when he forgot to armour himself. It was never strategy on his part, nor restraint. It was instinct. Something he did without knowing it mattered; an honesty offered without awareness, let alone leverage.

And Ori hated herself, just a little, for wanting it from him.

The thought barely had time to finish before he grabbed her collar and pulled her in. There was no hesitation in Sasha now. No question, no apology, no check to see if he’d guessed right. He chose – and the honesty of it sparked in her like a match to dry tinder. The kiss landed hard, all heat and intent, and it tore a feral sound from her throat she didn’t bother to swallow. This she understood. Force. Pressure. Desire that didn’t ask permission.

Her body answered before her mind could interfere, and she didn’t stop it. She let the device fall from under her arm, the bundle thudding forgotten to the floor, freeing both hands without hesitation. Ori leaned into it, heat answering heat, teeth and breath and pressure speaking a language she knew how to answer. Weeks of borrowed time burned electric through her veins, the sharp, visceral awareness of someone who’d been living too long with the promise of oblivion. The last time they’d been together Ori had been looking to burn out – to disappear into recklessness and wake up empty. Now she was too present for that, too aware of the way her body responded to him, of the way his honesty pulled at her more viciously than any calculated dominance ever had.

Her blood was running hot, nerves singing, not with anger but with the sharpness of being alive when she hadn’t expected to be. She felt the difference in him. Not just the hardness of the kiss, but the intention behind it – the choice. Sasha wasn’t apologising with his mouth. He wasn’t asking to be taken. He wasn’t asking anything at all. He was just acting without questioning the cost, and it mattered more than Oriena wanted it to. She stayed in the moment far longer than she intended. Long enough for the heat to spiral, for the tunnels and the memory of death to fall away. Long enough to feel painfully, vividly alive.

When she finally broke herself free, she didn’t step away. She stayed close, breath still ragged, her forehead nearly touching his. Her eyes were dark, focused and alive in a way she didn’t bother to hide as she searched his face. There was something different in him: something steadier, bolder. Fire she recognised and liked far too much. She could make some guesses as to why. Her lips curved a wicked grin. “I’m not wrecking another pair of pants for you,” she murmured, but the promise in her gaze left no doubt that if he pushed, she wouldn’t resist. “You think you can hold it until I dump this where it needs to go?” Her foot tapped the bundle she’d dropped, though she barely opened up any space between them. She didn’t clarify what she meant by it.

[Sasha]

It wasn't unlike him to have sex anywhere, the last time they'd been in the courtyard pavillion of the church. The tunnels were not much different. But as soon as the heat started did she pull away. Though it wasn't a rejection, the heat and passion remained.

"I can. I suppose." He gave her a wry grin. "Where are you taking it?" He was curious but more importantly she seemed to know exactly what to do with the device that witch had. He still wanted to finish this and didn't move from where he was.

[Oriena]

Ori didn’t pull away. She pressed into him deliberately, every brush of her body calculated to spark and punish. He didn’t move either, and she felt the tension coil tighter for it. “I suppose,” she echoed softly, the word drawn out and amused, lips hovering just shy of his. Her gaze dipped to his mouth before lifting back to his eyes. “That doesn’t sound like a man who’s confident he can.” The smile she gave him was slow and wicked, less invitation than pure provocation. She’d enjoy finding out either way.

“I’m taking it to Almaz,” she answered casually, as if she weren’t half a breath from climbing him again. Her reasons weren’t exactly noble. The club was closed. It had showers. It had alcohol. And it was a damn sight more comfortable than a dank tunnel intersection. “It’s not far. I have a lock-up there, and a friend far more virtuous than I am who can collect it at his leisure. It’s his problem then, unless you have a smarter idea.”

Ori’s lips trailed distraction along his jaw, brushing his ear. Her thigh pressed against his, hands wandering just enough to tease. “Sash,” she murmured, voice low and lust-dark, “If you’re thinking this ends with another quick fuck against a damp wall and you wandering off satisfied and confused afterwards–” She tilted her head, gaze sharp and teasing “–you’re underestimating my appetites.”

A quick fuck would be easy. It would burn hot and die fast, leaving her irritated an hour later, restless and unsatisfied in the way she hated most. She could have that from anyone. That wasn’t what she was offering him, and it wasn’t what she was interested in taking from him either. She wasn’t asking for promises. She didn’t want tomorrow, or meaning, or anything that required her to soften or linger. What she wanted was intention. To be chosen cleanly. To see whether he followed because he wanted what waited on the other side, not because his body couldn’t stand the delay.

“So,” Ori said, lips almost brushing his again, voice dangerous with promise, “you coming with me? Or are you about to prove you really can’t hold it?”

[Sasha]

Sasha knew who she meant. She's sent him to her. He was know around the church, and he was know around the Almaz. "I can behave until we get where we are going."

He looked at her still heat in his eyes. He understood she wanted more. He wasn't sure what that meant, but he understood that him leaving would be a bad idea. "I'm coming. And I don't have any ideas about that thing, but I don't think anyone should have it. Not even him." It was a guess. "What if it attaches to him? And she has him? But I don't know how to destroy it."

[Oriena]

Restraint wasn’t something she had expected him to actually stick by, at least not with that kind of simple, soft decisiveness. She didn’t know much about Sasha, but she knew his type. Or she thought she had. Ori tried to decide if she found it offensive or insufferably hot that he didn’t let himself tip over the edge. Either way she found it surprisingly difficult to disengage, and he certainly wasn’t backing off, which made the heat pulse just that little bit stronger in every place they still touched. She doubted he was even aware of that casually thrown gauntlet. Ori was as mercurial to her own desire as she was to those around her. She was the one who told him to wait, but the moment he did without flinching or flustering, it only made her want harder, and now.

Instead she bent to retrieve the bundle without stepping back first, hooking a finger in his waistband to keep her balance. Her smile was a playful sin as she straightened and finally made the decision to pull away. She tugged his shirt once, brief and sharp, reclaiming motion. “I didn’t say you had to behave,” she said, already several steps ahead of him in the tunnel when the power smacked a tease across his ass.

She hadn’t expected Sasha to understand who she was talking about, especially not given where all the blood was currently rushing. It shouldn't have surprised her: those who lived in shadows survived by watching the world around them closely. But her intentions weren’t something she was hiding. “Nox can look after himself,” she said. She didn’t add that if the stupid bitch even tried to reclaim such a prize, it wouldn’t be Nox she’d have to worry about. Nor that his power had been ripped out at the root anyway, which made the danger irrelevant at least so far as he was concerned. “I don’t see why it wouldn’t burn like anything else, if that’s what you want.”

She wouldn’t stop him if he did. The blood was still coated down his neck, and she wouldn’t soon forget the feral screams tearing raw from his throat. Had it been her skull, she’d have wanted the thing incinerated.

The route to Almaz took them via an abandoned looking service entrance, a dim light flickering noisily above a locked keypad. The corridor beyond the door resembled nothing close to the glittering luxury of the club above. In the warrens beneath the public arenas not much comfort was spared for the fighters. Bare walls, leaking pipes, the ceaseless hum of electricity fed through thick cables. There were holding cells for recuperation, communal showers for cleaning, and eerily vacant pits for practice. Even deeper underground were the cages for the competitors which never left; the ones who were not human at all, or had no humanity left to them at least. There was still several feet of stone above their heads, but you could always hear the storm above when the club was open: a din like thunder. It was silent now, of course. The lockers were in an inconsequential line near a bank of showers, monolithic cages of steel. The darkness yawned dark inside the one she opened, nothing else in there. She slid the device in without untangling it from Sasha’s jacket.

[Sasha]

Sasha was surprise at the use of the power. It wasn't something he'd have thought to use the power for. There was still a lot of fire left in the air. He could feel the power just at the edge. She trusted Nox to do what needed to be done. He wasn't so sure, but he wasn't going to worry about it. He didn't want to get near that thing again. This was still too close.

Sasha knew he wouldn't have found his way anywhere. He would have gotten lost very easily. this place was a labyrinthine maze.

She put the thing in a locker once they arrived and they had arrived to a place still underground. He didn't want to see it or touch it again. He wanted it gone, but he had no clue how to do it. And he was pretty sure fire wasn't going to be enough. And he had another fire he didn't want to go out. After the door was closed Oriena started to leave but Sasha had other plans. He grabbed her by the arm and pressed her against the lockers and kissed her hard. He bit her bottom lip before he whispered. "Someplace we can go?"