Content Warning:
Another scene of the more steamy nature. If you don't like to read that kind of thing, skip until the ~ ~ ~  Otherwise, enjoy :)
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It seemed to her as if a voice called out her name.

The sound was faint, barely a whisper over the rustling of the waves in the distance, fleeting and light like the caress of the sea breeze that tickled her nose with its salty scent. Under the starlit sky, the air was cold, but she didn't mind. Those nights were perfect for stargazing, when the air was crisp and clear, all the way to the horizon where the sky met the sea, like two dark bodies touching in a boundless embrace.

She stood at the edge of the water where the sand was wet and compacted by the last wave that had rolled in. There she waited for the next wave to come and tug at her feet, to draw the sand out from underneath her, and to get her to stumble. She liked to imagine that the ocean was alive, a breathing, conscious creature that enjoyed this little game just as much as she did.

But the next wave didn't come.

The ocean seemed to play a different game today. It receded further, as if to hide, and beckon her to come and seek. She stepped forward to follow the irresistible call of the dark water, but stopped as she spotted something in the sand just before her feet. As the wave drew back some of the sand, it revealed a silver ring, attached to a thin chain.

She hesitated for a moment, but then bent down and picked it up. It felt strangely warm to the touch, even after having been in the cold water. As she held on to the chain, the silver ring dangled before her eyes. There was something hypnotizing about its movement as it swayed back and forth, just like the waves rose and fell in the distance.

The next wave rolled in, and the water swirled around her feet, inviting her to dance along. She forced her gaze away from the ring and down along her body. She was wearing her white summer dress, but something was strange. She was barefoot, and in the corners of her eyes, she saw strands of her own hair framing her face. It was white on one side, and black on the other.

This is different from usual, she realized.

She had visited this place countless times, once not too long ago, and then in other dreams, and even in another life. But never like this.

And then she realized something else that was different, from both reality and her usual dreams. Lars was not there. She called out his name, in her mind and out loud, but there was no reply. She furrowed her brow in confusion, but she also realized that she did not feel that same sense of abandonment and emptiness that she had experienced when she had dreamed without him the last time. She concluded that he couldn't be far. Deciding to go look for him, she turned away from the ocean, but instantly froze in surprise. The silver chain slipped from her fingers, and the ring settled back in the sand. The next wave rolled back in and cast a swirl of sand over it, and the dark depths of the sea reclaimed that memory.

The water was no longer beckoning and pulling, rather the waves seemed to push at her feet, urging her to walk towards what she saw before her. Along the beach, expanding in every direction, the silver sand was almost entirely covered in a dense network of thick vines and dense foliage. Their color was so dark that it seemed to simply merge with the night sky in the distance. Amidst the leaves, white flowers blossomed, sparkling like crystal where the ocean breeze had cast a thin film of mist over them. It was as if they were trying to outdo the sparkling of the stars in the sky above.

That's impossible, she thought, I only left the seed here two weeks ago.

But of course it was entirely possible, she realized. This was an impossible place after all, and this was nothing but a dream. Lars still didn't reply to her thoughts, but up ahead in the distance, she now spotted a black-clad figure, sitting cross-legged on the ground amidst the vines, with his back to her.

"Lars?" she called out once again, and crossed the distance between them with quick strides.

But it wasn't Lars, she realized as she approached him. The man turned to throw her a look over his shoulder, white rings illuminating his dark brown irises. His augments and the stars above were the only source of light, but she could clearly see the cheeky grin on his lips.

"Wha-"

She backed away as Nova got up to his feet.

What is he doing here? She asked, but still, there was no answer. There was nobody here but Nova and her.

Nova took in her appearance now, eyeing her up and down, while she just stared back at him, completely baffled.

"Not that I mind the look, not at all..." he muttered.

His grin widened as his gaze came to rest somewhere below her face. She reflexively crossed her arms before her chest, feeling very exposed in that stupid white dress all of a sudden.

Just as much an insufferable jerk as in real life, she noted.

"...but you're gonna freeze to death like this."

He took a step closer, and to her surprise, he shrugged off his leather jacket and put it around her shoulders. The heavy fabric settled around her, enveloping her in its comfortable warmth. She hadn't even realized how cold she had felt. With a reflexive sigh of content, she closed her eyes and breathed in that strangely tantalizing scent that enveloped her along with the jacket. Crisp and light like peppermint, mingled with leather, heavy and dark, and a hint of something metallic. She was feeling warmer immediately, yet a strange shiver tickled down the back of her neck and quickly spread all over her body.

Now wait a moment... this is not right, she realized, and her eyes snapped open again.

She let out a small gasp of surprise as she found Nova standing much closer to her now, staring down at her with his glowing eyes as if he was waiting for something. She could feel the heat emanating from his body, promising a kind of warmth that a jacket could never give. Hot blood rushed to her cheeks at the thought, and as if he was reading her mind, adding to the white glowing rings, a spark of amusement lit up his dark eyes.

"You're not supposed to be here," she put forward, inching away under his self-assured gaze.

"Really. Who said so?" he asked. With a smirk on his lips he crossed his arms and leaned forward, just enough to close the distance between them again that she had just created. "And why should I listen to them?"

Her gaze came to rest on his forearms, where the dark lines of his tattoos intersected with the white lines of his scars. Her mind had recreated the mesmerizing pattern on his golden-hued skin in perfect detail. She let her gaze follow along the lines, up along his arms, to where they vanished under the hem of his shirt. But even where the pattern on his skin was now concealed by the fabric, she vividly recalled what it looked like.

She gulped as she tried to collect her thoughts again and remember what she had wanted to say.

"Because this is..." she started.

Her voice trailed off as Nova brought up a hand to tuck a few loose strands of white hair away behind her ear. The instant his fingertips brushed against her cheek, her heart began to race. She remembered what it felt like to be touched by him, and even more so, the body remembered too. The light friction of the scars on his hands as they gently caressed her skin. His hot breath tickling against the side of her neck. And his heart beating in his chest, fast and heavy and in synchrony with her own.

And now, once again her blood turned into a violent, hot surge under his touch, and it forced its way through her body with every heartbeat. It tore through her entire being, it flooded her body and mind, and culminated in a heavy, painful throbbing deep within. Every fiber of her body was aching, with a near unbearable craving for more. More of his touch, more of his scent, more of his warmth. She gasped in shock at the violent intensity of her reaction to his touch, and backed away from him.

"This is not real," she whispered, to remind herself of that fact.

Her voice came out less determined than she had hoped. Perhaps it was because she did not feel entirely certain of her own words. Because it certainly looked, smelled, and felt very real. Almost too real. She hadn't been aware that her body and brain were even capable of recreating these sensations with such terrifying intensity.

"And so what?"

Nova's voice was low and husky, as he stepped forward to close the distance between them again. She wanted to reply, she really did, but he placed his hands on her hips, and the warmth of his touch caused the words to get stuck in her throat. All she was able to put forth was a small gasp of surprise as he abruptly pulled her against his body. The jacket slipped from her shoulders - not that she cared, she didn't feel cold any longer anyway. As she stumbled into his embrace, she grabbed hold of the fabric of his shirt, and pulled it down just enough so that the V-shaped neckline revealed some of the scars and tattoos on his chest.

Mesmerized, she stared at those lines. She yearned to trace her fingertips along their paths, from the backs of his hands along his arms, over his shoulders and along his chest, all the way to that point just below his collarbones where two of them almost met. It was not just a pattern, it was like a map, etched onto his skin and leading to a secret that he kept just as close as his real name. Even closer, perhaps, because she knew his real name now. But where this map would lead - she would never know. Her brain did not know the answers to the question she was burning to ask him, no matter how perfectly her memory rendered his appearance inside her mind. Not that she would have been able to put forth a coherent question anyway, from the moment he began to move his hands along her body.

Placing one hand against the small of her back and burying the other in her hair, he pulled her tightly against his body. The scent of peppermint and the heat emanating from his skin enveloped her, titillating, teasing, sending her head spinning. She was drowning in his embrace, and yet his touch set her on fire.

But the flames that he cast on her body did not bring that razor sharp pain that she had been so familiar with for years. The agony of her torment had carved such deep chasms into her heart and mind that she had thought she would never be able to feel something like this again, something other than pain at somebody's touch. Before, when she had been touched, she had felt like paper burning to a crisp. Now, she was like melting ice. It was still painful, in a way. But just like ice turning into water, she knew that she would come away from this fire not broken, just different.

The fire raged across her skin, and her longing burnt inside of her with such fierce intensity that she wondered how Nova could even touch her at all without burning himself. But he didn't seem to mind. And somehow, with nothing but the thin fabric of her dress separating her skin from his hand as he moved it down towards the hem of her dress, his every touch was hotter still. It hurt. It was excruciating, it was tormenting, and yet she was aching more. It was not enough.

"This is just a dream..." she put forth meekly. "Nothing but an illusion. I shouldn't-"

He stopped in his motion, and brought one hand up to cup her face gently. She leaned against his touch with a deep sigh almost reflexively. She felt weak and mellow, liquid like water following the pull of gravity, flowing towards the ocean.

"So you don't want this?" he leaned forward and whispered close to her ear. His lips brushed against her skin for a brief moment, and it caused a shiver to run down her spine.

"I... I don't know," she muttered between ragged breaths.

It was not exactly true. Even in this impossible place, even in a dream, she could easily recognize this sensation. Blazing hot and wild like a raging fire. Heavy and bittersweet, and painful, like a knife to the heart. The feeling urged her to run and to stay at the same time, to fight with teeth and nails and yet surrender herself completely, to a force way beyond her  control. It whispered a faint promise, of a taste of death at the very height of life.

She wanted him. All of him. Badly.

"But I shouldn't..." she reminded herself.

"Why?"

He whispered his question against her skin, and she had to close her eyes for a moment to focus.

"Because I hurt you," she answered in a low voice, "Being close to me got you hurt, and I-"

"So you think you have to punish yourself?" he asked.

"So I have to stay away," she insisted. "And besides, this... this is..."

Her thought trailed away as he planted a soft kiss at the side of her neck, just below the jawbone. It made her legs go weak, but he held on to her body in a tight but gentle embrace. She trembled in his arms and gripped the fabric of his shirt more tightly. She should have pushed him away, but she didn't have the strength to do it.

No, she didn't lack the strength. She lacked the will to stop him, even as he loosened his embrace and moved his hands down along her body again. Even has he pushed up the skirt of her dress and moved them back up against her bare skin. His touch was like fire and lightning combined, painful and exhilarating, coursing along her nerves in a powerful surge and leaving behind a burning trail across her flesh. It was almost too much, and yet it was nowhere near enough.

She tried to stifle a moan with moderate success, and he stopped in his motins for a moment. She almost expected him to tease her about it, but instead, he just raised his head again to look deep into her eyes. He wore an uncharacteristically serious expression, but underneath it, behind the white glow of the augments in his eyes, she saw something dark and desperately hungry. And she realized that what she saw in them was just a reflection. His desire could only mirror her own, in this dream that had brought him to life.

And she finally understood. She did not just want him. She needed him. She needed this closeness and this heat, she needed to melt and burn and become ashes, to rise from them again, alive. She was craving for more of these sparks of electricity that he made dance along her body underneath his touch. But beyond that, she was yearning for him to just be able to hold her like this, without suffering unspeakable agony because of her.

The corner of his lips turned upward in a soft smile, so unlike that mischievous smirk he usually wore, and he brought a hand to the side of her face again, caressing her cheek with his thumb.

"It's only a dream," Nova whispered, as if to reassure her, "So none of this matters, right?"

His face was only inches from hers now. His every word was as light and carefree as the scent of peppermint on his breath, and yet raw, dark and heavy like leather. Through the fabric of his shirt she could feel his heart pounding underneath her hands, once again beating in perfect synchrony with her own pulse.

For a moment, she could feel that strange connection that they shared in the real world. The band between them quivered, taut and tense it seemed to vibrate between them. It tied them together more and more tightly, it was a force that conpelled her with the intensity of the fatal gravitational pull of a black hole.

She met his gaze, and her heart somersaulted in her chest as she saw something else besides her hunger and her craving reflect back. And she remembered all the things she had wanted to tell him, in that moment on Astraphos, when they had found themselves surrounded and she had thought that they were going to die.

"None of it... matters..." she repeated, her own voice sounding strange to her, faint like an echo, "So even if I tell you... that I think I-"

He cut her off by crushing his lips against hers so suddenly that it took her breath away. He did not just smell of peppermint, she realized. He tasted like it, too. Cool and crisp like winter morning air, but at the same time heavy and burning hot like summer midday sun. And with just a hint of something dangerously sharp and metallic.

It's only a dream, she repeated to herself.

And yet it felt so much better than she would have ever thought herself capable of imagining.

Nothing but an illusion, she told herself again, as he pushed her back until they both came to lie on the ground among the Starseed flowers.

So why does it feel so fucking real?

~ ~ ~

They woke up feeling disoriented and confused, and it took both of them a few moments to realize that they were lying in a bed in the hospital on New Elysium. But Lars could sense that her confusion was not just because of her location. It had taken him a bit longer than her to wake up, which was not that unusual after a surgery. But for some reason, she seemed very upset with him.

Lars?! What the hell? Where were you?

Sorry... he mumbled, his voice sounding groggy even in their mind. You know I don't take well to anesthesia...

That's not what I meant, she snapped at him. In the dream!

What are you talking about? He asked.

He tried to collect his thoughts, but they seemed to be scattered all around him. The dream had left him feeling strangely disconnected from the body.

Where were you all the time? She complained. I was worried! You weren't at the beach, and then I-

I don't understand, he cut her off. I was right there with you, on the beach.

Uhm... What?

He could feel an intense blush appear on their cheeks. She fell silent for a moment, leaving him to watch in confusion as a strange shadow was moving around behind her side of the veil.

Why didn't you say anything? She finally asked.

I... I did? We just talked, he insisted. On the beach. In that dream.

Uhh, no, we certainly didn't... There was not much talking going on there... she thought, more to herself than to him.

Null, what's wrong, why are you feeling all strange all of a sudden? What are you... what are you thinking about?

Strange was an understatement. Their body was flooded by a flurry of emotions and sensations that he couldn't make any sense of. He had felt most of it before, just not in this particular combination, and it took him a while to make at least some rough sense of it.

We didn't have the same dream, he finally deduced from her emotions. So... what happened in yours?

I, uh.....

She tried to push the memory back, but her human brain was incapable of processing a negative. The moment she compelled herself not to think about it, she thought about it. And just like that, a memory flared to life all around them inside their mind. It was just a memory of a dream, and yet it encompassed a most vividly realistic display of various organic sensations.

Oh.... oh my, was all that Lars managed to put forth.

Sharing the same body meant that Lars could sense her cravings and feel them as if they were his own. He didn't even need to take full control to feel the heat all over their body, or the blood flushing their cheeks, even as she pressed their cold hands against them. This particular reaction was one of the most peculiar, and most paradoxical organic sensations that the human body was capable of. For how could something as fleeting and intangible as a thought carry a sensation so carnal and physical?

On top of all that, he could sense that she was completely mortified, and she hurried to push those memories further back.

That's... unexpected. Although perhaps not entirely surprising, considering how you were staring at those tattoos of his, Lars noted.

She groaned at his words and sank back against the pillow behind them. Turning over to the side, she huddled against it, half burying their face for a moment, and then shifting uneasily.

I'm sorry... she whispered.

Why?

Because I'm putting you through all of this... crap, she replied. I should have stopped, should have tried to wake up, and...

That was another peculiar organic emotion. That sense of embarrassment and shame that they associated with their desires made little sense to him. To Lars, this kind of craving was just like hunger or thirst. A different kind of thirst, she had once called it. The more time he had spent with her inside this body, the better he had come to understand the nature of this organic craving, despite all the horrific memories of her past that overshadowed what was connected to it. But those memories had begun to fade away, like the taste of something terrible and bitter disappeared from the tongue after a sip of something sweet and soothing.

He had gotten a taste of it too, mostly through her dreams and older memories. And by now, he could understand it all much better than he cared for.

Don't apologize for your feelings, Null, he said softly, quoting back the same words she had spoken to once. It's not like you can control them. Isn't that kind of the point?

A smile flickered across her face for a moment, but it quickly disappeared again. She sat up in the bed and looked at the nearby window, staring at the reflection of her own face.

Now wait a moment, she thought. How come I was in your dream and we talked when I was dreaming on my own? What happened in your dream?!

Now it was Lars who was causing them to shift uneasily, as he tried to come up with the right words to describe it.

He could have just told her how he had dreamed about being on the beach with her, just like so many times before. How she had been sitting on his lap, her head resting against his chest, and how he had put his arms around her to keep the impossible cold away. They hadn't talked about much, but he had been content with just sitting there with her, and watching the stars and listening to her heart beat. And in hindsight he maybe should have realized it sooner that it had not truly been Null, who had always looked like Evelyn in their dreams. The woman he had held in his arms had had black and white hair, and a pitch black eye. It had been an illusion.

He could have just used the opportunity to tell her what he wanted to tell her most of all. It would have been as easy as pulling back the veil to show her his side of their mind, where his incorporeal heart was slowly breaking. Or showing her the memory of his dream. Or taking control over the body and letting her feel what he felt. But to what end?

...Impossible things, he just answered her question.

He preferred not to disclose any of it. For what would it tell her about him, if he dreamed about holding her in his arms while she dreamed about Nova in such a way?

She was about to ask another question when there was a noise at the door. She stiffened and reflexively, he surged to the forefront of their mind, ready to take control. The door opened slowly, and a sliver of light fell into the darkened room.

"Oh? You're awake?"

Cyril sounded surprised as he entered and closed the door again behind himself. Lars could sense a mixture of relief and at the same time a hint of panic in his voice. Null groaned and rubbed their hands over their face, as the light from the hallway hit their eyes.

"Barely..." she mumbled.

"Don't stress yourself, the anesthesia might take a bit to wear of completely," Cyril said softly as he moved next to the bed.

She kept her gaze averted, staring at their hands as she clenched them into tight fists in their lap. Lars could tell that she was still embarrassed, and tried very hard to allow those sensations from her dream to fade away. But her brain just could not understand negatives.

"You should try to sleep some more. I only came to bring you this," Cyril said, and placed something on the table next to the bed.

From the corner of their eye, they recognized the black and white fabric immediately.

"My suit?" Null asked, suddenly wide awake. "How did you..."

She threw back the blanket and swung their legs over the edge of the bed, ready to jump up, but the body had not quite recovered from the anesthesia yet. She stumbled, and Cyril caught her shoulders to keep her from falling.

"Hey, watch it. You really shouldn't get up yet," he said sternly and maneuvered her back until she came to sit on the edge of the bed again.

"Higgs brought it over and asked me to give it to you," he explained, as she reached for the suit and unfolded it.

"Higgs?"

Seems like Rutherford managed to get out the stains, Lars noted

They had last worn it at the Butcher's, and had returned from that place covered in blood head to toe. Now the suit looked like new, with the white parts of the patch-work fabric almost glowing in the dim light of the room.

"He said something about shark skin, I didn't quite get it. Apparently he upgraded it for you or something," Cyril continued.

"No way..." she muttered in disbelief.

As she ran her fingers over the fabric, she could feel her interface augments detect the wiring underneath. The hardware synched immediately, and under her touch, the suit became hard and rigid. With a mere thought, the surface changed, and tiny spikes began to dance across it in rippling waves.

Higgs, you're amazing, she thought, as she watched the pattern move across the fabric with a smile.

We need to find a way to thank him properly, Lars thought, equally awed by the android's work. For everything.

She drew her gaze away from the mesmerizing display of the suit's abilities.

If he had time to fix this, I bet he's done with the Legion, it occurred to her.

"I gotta go," she said, and got up again. This time, she managed to stay on her legs.

"No, you don't," Cyril countered.

He tried to put his hands on their arm, but Null reached forward rapidly and twisted his hand away. Cyril's features contorted with pain and frustration, but he held her gaze. Instead of backing away, he moved closer and stared back at her, his eyes taking on a dangerous shade of amber.

"Stay," he ordered her.

"Or what?" she snarled back.

"Amy, no!" he snapped at her, "This is not acceptable-"

"Don't talk to me like I'm a dog," she growled back at him, and a surge of anger flooded their body.

Null, don't hurt him, please, Lars begged her.

She grit her teeth and tightened her grip for a moment, but then she let go. Cyril heaved a sigh and threw his hands up in frustration.

"Why don't you understand that I only want what's best for you?" he asked, "You barely woke up a few minutes ago. I haven't even checked your new augment-"

She narrowed their eyes at him for a moment.

"Then shut the fuck up and check it now," she said, and hopped back up on the bed.

She stretched out their left hand to him, palm facing upward. Lars and Null could feel the faint, dull throbbing of the recent surgery, but there was no visible incision, only a faint red line, running parallel to their veins at the wrist.

He's really good at hiding these things, Lars noted.

Don't remind me, Null grumbled, and he knew that she was thinking about the tracker.

She stared up at Cyril expectantly, and they watched his inner conflict display a flurry of emotions on his face. He knew very well that the minute he finished his examination, they would walk out of this door. But in the end, he surrendered with another heavy sigh and took their hand in his. Null twitched slightly at his touch, but it was more of a reflex than an actual reaction. Cyril's hands were warm, and he was always careful when he touched them, no matter how angry or frustrated he seemed to be with them.

Keeping their hand in his, he moved a small medical scanner over the site of the implant.

"It's integrated well," he confirmed, sounding almost displeased at his own impeccable work.

"Good. Now activate it," she ordered him.

He looked up at them in confusion.

"I can't see it in my systems report and I can't access its functions. So I suspect you put another blocker or whatever on it. Remove it."

"And if I don't?" he said in a low voice.

"Then I will find something about you that I can break that won't impede your ability to perform future surgeries."

Null! Lars warned her.

Aw, come on. I'm just reaffirming my authority here, she replied. I'm not really going to hurt him.

Judging from the look on Cyril's face, he seemed less sure about that. He gulped and let go of their hand to pull out his tablet and type something on it. In an instant, the new augment came online and connected with the rest of the hardware and systems in their body.

Tentatively, she stretched their hand back to expose their wrist, and a small cut appeared along the red line. Pushing out from underneath their skin, two thin wires appeared and started to snake around their hand. The motion of the wire followed their thoughts as it curled around their fingers.

"Wow, that's..." she mumbled.

Interesting, Lars thought.

Kinda disgusting, Null thought at the same time, and he could sense lingering memories of Xenia's horrific armor augments being evoked in the back of their mind.

"Well, it matches the specs you gave me, for what you wanted to do with it," Cyril muttered and shrugged.

"It's perfect, Cyril. Thanks," Lars said for both of them, and for a moment, Cyril's worried frown turned into a faint smile.

His eyes took on a soft, golden hue as he looked at them now, and Lars could feel Null tense up. She wrestled back control over the body, and the wires retreated back underneath their skin as she hopped from the bed and reached for the suit. As she pulled the hospital gown over her head, Cyril turned away.

What's up with him, she thought as she put on the suit. It's not like he hasn't seen us naked before.

Lars didn't reply, although he understood very well what Cyril must have been feeling right now. Having Amy on his surgery table and having her undress right next to him must have been as different for him as it was for Lars to be close to Null inside this body, and on the beach.

As Cyril cast a glance over his shoulder and saw that they were done and ready to leave, he sighed in disappointment. "You should at least stay for a couple more hours... It's the middle of the night..."

"I'm a spacer, Cyril, I don't care what time of the day it is on this side of the planet," she informed him, while tying up the laces of her boots.

"There's really nothing I can do to convince you to stay just a little while longer, is there?"

"Nope. There is-"

The rest of her words got stuck in her throat as she got up and found him looking at her with a strange expression. Full of pain and regret, and a lingering sense of anger and frustration that he didn't seem to dare to act on any longer. His irises had turned into dark bronze rings around his widened pupils as he stared down at them. The room was only dimly lit, but it was enough light to make his freckle stand out against his pale skin.

As Null stared back at the man before her, Lars couldn't help but notice some by now familiar sensations well up inside of her.

You know, we haven't used Widow's Kiss in quite some time, he pointed out.

What do you mean?

I'm just saying... I wouldn't mind.

Wouldn't mind what? She asked. Wait a second... What? Seriously?

Don't tell me you don't like him, he chirped. I'm in your head, I know better. The way you always stare at his eyes... and his touch, it doesn't hurt-

Shut up, Lars, she grumbled, and purposefully averted her gaze from Cyril's eyes.

I can sense that you want to, you know. He remarked. You can't hide that from me.

Not in this life, she thought, sounding very weary of the discussion.

We only have this one, he countered. Why don't we make the most of it? Just one kiss?

I won't kiss him, Lars.

Then how about I do it?

You wouldn't, she said.

But he had made up his mind, and she was too upset and confused to keep him from taking control go their body.

No. No you won't! Lars? Stop it!

~ ~ ~

With a frustrated sigh, Cyril turned to leave the room.

He couldn't stop her from leaving, but that didn't mean that he had to watch her walk away. But he didn't get to that point. Amy grabbed hold of his arm and held him back.

He turned to face her again, and found her staring up at him with a complex expression on her face. She moved closer, never once letting go of his arm. He could feel his heart beat accelerate, reverberating through his body with eardrum-shattering intensity as her eyes fixed on his for a moment, before she cast them down on his lips. So close to her, he thought that he could see a storm in her organic iris, a wild turmoil of coalescing clouds. His blood was rushing through his veins so fast and loud that he almost couldn't hear her when she muttered something.

"I've always wondered what that would feel like..."

And then she stretched and got up on her tiptoes to kiss him.

It was different than he had imagined. Somehow, when he had thought about kissing her – and he realized now that he had fantasized about that with a somewhat unhealthy frequency - he had always thought it would be terrifying. Violently passionate and consuming. But instead, she seemed careful, almost hesitant. It definitely was terrifying him, though.

At first, her lips brushed against his for nothing but a split second. She stopped moving and sighed, her breath tickling against the corner of his mouth. The faint sound seemed otherworldly, and was like an ephemeral promise of something he had never even dared to dream of. She brought up a hand next to his face, to caress his cheek and trace the line of his jaw with her thumb. He closed his eyes and clenched his teeth hard at her fleeting touch. Tension had taken hold of his entire body, but it was disrupted by a shiver that run down from the back of his neck and caused him to tremble.

This was not the kind of torture he had expected from her.

Suddenly he felt her lips again, now pressing against his more forcefully. Her hand moved to the back of his neck, pulling him down closer toward her, demanding more. He wanted to wrap his arms around her, hold her close, and give her everything she wanted, but he wasn't exactly certain what that actually was. Hadn't she just threatened to break his bones minutes ago?

He decided it really didn't matter now. This woman was his misfortune, his bane, and one day she would be his undoing. He knew it, but he really didn't care.

He put his hands on her hips, near where the fabric of her suit was cut to reveal her skin, covered in nothing but a layer of thin mesh. He wanted to tear it all off so he could feel her bare skin under his. Countless times when he had touched her, he had remained professional, distant, detached. He was none of these things any longer in that moment.

He pulled her toward him, and she followed, pressing her body against his and causing him to gasp. Their kiss deepened until he could taste her tongue, and the fast paced beats of his heart began to blur together until one seemed to be indistinguishable from the next. He wondered if it perhaps had just stopped altogether. Neither did he seem to breathe any longer. Breathing had become an inconvenience at this time, when he didn't want to waste even a split second on anything else than kissing her back.

He felt her hand move, across his chest and to his side, where she slipped it underneath his shirt. Her touch was cold, and yet it set him on fire. He thought he would probably either pass out any moment now, or wake up from a dream.

But instead of either of that happening, he felt her shift in his arms and break the kiss. He opened his eyes and met her gaze. Her eyes seemed to flicker for a moment, a ripple went through the grey clouds in her organic iris and the black rings in her augment underwent rapid readjustment. Her posture changed slightly, and he felt her tense up. Immediately, he removed his hands from her body and they both drew back a bit, staring at each other wide-eyed and breathless.

She opened her mouth to say something, but her jaw just snapped shut again and she averted her eyes. She bit her lip and blushed, and he found himself thinking that he, too, wanted to bite her lips, and he, too, blushed. She was still very close to him, so close that he could have done it if he just leaned in – but he was too confused, and too terrified that she would murder him on the spot for what had just happened between them. Whatever that had been.

She cleared her throat, and took a small step back. Her hands were still on his body, and she flattened a fold on his shirt in a diligent gesture, as if that had been her intention all along.

"Good bye, Cyril," she said, her voice sounding somewhat hoarse as she patted his chest with a flat hand. Then she turned around and left.

He didn't say anything. He just stared after her in disbelief, unable to process any of what had just happened. He was certain he would wake up any minute now.

But he didn't.

~ ~ ~

What. The. Fuck. What was that about, back there? Null growled, as they made their way back towards the space port.

She steered the body at a brisk pace, hoping that the cool night air could quench the burning sensation on their skin where Cyril had touched them. Now she would never be able to look him in the eyes again. Not that she liked looking at those stupid eyes anyway, the way their color shifted from hazel to green under the harsh neon lights in his practice. It was highly irritating.

Sorry... I didn't mean to say that out loud, Lars mused, but I really had wondered for a long time...

Wondered... about what, exactly? she asked.

What it would feel like to kiss someone for a reason other than to kill them. To kiss someone we l-

Shut up, she cut him off.

She stopped abruptly in her tracks, and for a second she pondered if she could bring Lars to the beach just so she could throttle him. She was furious. Furious at Lars for doing something like that, furious at Cyril for going along with it. The worst part was that she would have to find another neuro-cyberneticist to fix her up – because she most certainly wouldn't allow Cyril to touch this body ever again. And chances of finding an NC in this day and age were rather slim.

No, that was not the worst part.

The worst part was that Lars hadn't done it alone. He hadn't really taken control. She had been weak, she had hesitated for a moment, and Lars had done nothing more than nudge her. And she had gone along with it. She buried her face in her hands with a groan. She felt like crying. This was all too complicated, too confusing, too absurd, and too impossible.

Consider it payback, he continued, sounding smug.

Payback? For what?

For what you did with Nova, he chuckled.

But that was not real! I was a dream! she yelled in their mind. You can't just go around in real life and-

The dream is not what I'm talking about... he said, and recalled their previous encounter with Nova, on the bridge of the Blackstar.

She could feel the blood rush to her cheeks, and shook her head violently to make the memory go away again. Next to what had just happened a couple of minutes ago, that was the last thing she wanted to think about right now. But thinking about it also made her realize something else.

This is different, Lars, she said.

Why? He asked. We kissed Cyril, he kissed us back.

Nova knows who- what we are. Cyril doesn't.

I don't understand. What does it matter?

She heaved a deep sigh. That's exactly the problem. You have to understand that just because Nova doesn't have problem with what we are, it doesn't mean that nobody would. That Cyril wouldn't.

Why would he?

Because Cyril is straight as an arrow, she answered. She had to look for the right words for a moment, before she continued, And Nova... I think he swings in whatever way he doesn't encounter resistance.

I don't get it, Lars remarked.

It means he.... Oh, never mind... she thought, weary of explaining it in any more detail. It's just... this is bad. Very bad.

I personally think it felt very good, Lars said, with that stupid intangible smirk of his.

She groaned again, and squirmed, internally and physically.

And I think Cyril liked it too, Lars whispered, causing a shiver ran down their spine. We could go back and-

Stop it. She cut him off. We've got work to do. We need to concentrate.

Aye-aye Captain.

He didn't take her seriously. She could hear him, no, feel him giggle as he retreated. She took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders, turning her face into the composed mask of Amy Larsson again. As she walked back to the spaceport, she wondered how she could explain it all to him, when she barely understood it all herself.  The one thing she was certain of, and that Lars didn't seem to understand, was that if they continued like this, Cyril might end up getting seriously hurt.

But as much as she hated to admit it, Lars was right about one thing.

It had been nice to kiss without killing.