Beyond the Wall - RP for asthenoseonyourface

[coatandscarf]

The last thing Randy had expected when she woke up this morning was that her world would be turned upside down. She didn't anticipate her relationship with John to turn into what it had: a crazy desire to just draw him close and never let him go. It felt so strange to want to be touched again, yet with John it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

Even now, sprawled on the couch, she knew she should be doing something other than thinking about him. Sleeping, writing reports, even eat. Yet she was more than content to just lay on the sofa and think of his stunning eyes and his beautiful curls.

She was hopeless.

Sighing, she took her phone out of her pocket, unlocking it before moving to send out a text. Bored. Thinking of you. Up to anything interesting? RH

Comments

[asthenoseonyourface]

The answer came roughly ten minutes later.

Sorry, texting & driving is illegal. I think. Open your front door. -JR

[coatandscarf]

She blinked in surprise at her phone. When he didn't reply immediately, she assumed he was busy, or sleeping, or doing any multitude of things besides thinking of her. Instead, he was at her door.

Suddenly, moving wasn't such a bad idea, and she made her way to the front door, opening it. Although he'd told her he'd be there, she couldn't help but smile when she saw him on her doorstep. "Good evening, Holmes." She wanted nothing more than to lean in and kiss him, but something told her to wait and let him take the lead in that regard.

[asthenoseonyourface]

His self control, however, isn't nearly as good, and in a near duplication of their first kiss, he drops the shopping bag that was in his hand, catches her face between his hands, and pulls her in to kiss her as though it's the last thing he wants to do before he dies.

A long, breathless while later, he pauses for air.

"Good evening, Miss Adler."

[coatandscarf]

She found a moan escaping her as he kissed her. For a few moments, there was nothing in the world but him and her, and she absolutely adored that. When he finally drew away, she brought a hand up to run it along his curls, sighing happily. "You're far too fabulous a kisser to have never done this before. You have left a trail of broken hearts behind you, haven't you?" She didn't want to withdraw from him, but knew that standing in the doorway would only draw attention. So she carefully disengaged herself from him and picked up the bag after spotting it on the floor next to him. Holding his hand with her free one, she led him inside.

[asthenoseonyourface]

"Not a one." he replied with simple honesty, letting her lead him inside.

And, of course, the second the door shut he plucked the bag from her hands and let it drop again. Catching her face a second time, he kissed her, backing her very gently against the door and promptly removing his hands, planting them on either side of her head against the door. She could bolt, duck under his arm, run as far as she liked.

But John kept on kissing her, slow and hard and deep, and waited to see what would happen.

[coatandscarf]

She was going to call him a liar when he informed her that he'd never left anyone behind with a broken heart. He was such a talented kisser, there was no way he'd never had a lover before. Certainly he just hadn't realized he could have that effect on a woman. She was going to tell him such, when he instead cornered her against the door, kissing her firmly. Initially, her eyes widened with panic as he pressed her back against the solid wood of the door, feeling his arms pinning her in place. Her body tensed, and the whimper that left her had nothing to do with the kiss.

But she realized how gently he was holding her, and how easily she could get away from him, and she began to relax against him a bit. Her hands came out to hold onto his hips, letting his kiss encompass her once more. The longer the kiss lingered, the more the soft sounds would escape her. A hand darted up to slip into his curls, as if unwilling to let him withdraw from her entirely.

[asthenoseonyourface]

The sounds she made were almost like music, tugging at his heart and teasing at his senses. It didn't surprise him that he lost control very quickly and had to force himself not to press closer, kiss her harder, demand more when he wasn't even sure just how much further 'more' would take them, or if she'd ever forgive him for pushing her.

That was why he'd looked up that study before coming over.

When her fingers twined in his hair, it made things better and worse as he broke the kiss with a low sound of pleasure, head tipping into the touch of her fingers.

"You need to be careful." he warned, his voice rough and alien in his own ears. "This is good, though...very good. My experiment should work out nicely."

[coatandscarf]

Careful. He was telling her to be careful? The walking, talking, sex on a stick was warning her? Did he have any idea how easy it was to give in to him?

Then again, maybe he did. Maybe that's why he was warning her. At his words though, she curled her fingers around his hair, finding herself absently playing with them as she spoke. "Experiment? What experiment? How to get a girl going?" She teased him, leaning in to nip at his bottom lip lightly.

[asthenoseonyourface]

The gentle rake of teeth was like fire, but the fingers in his hair were better than hydrocodone, so he fought the fire and sank into the liquid warmth her touch brought, making him liquid and boneless under her hands.

"You need to be careful, because self control isn't really my area...and you won't let me do this again if I scare you."

Gently, and with great difficulty, John untangled himself from her arms and stepped back, picking up his bag.

"Jacob cooks for his girlfriends, so I thought I'd try it. The experiment is a different matter. Study I read, I want to test it's validity."

[coatandscarf]

Randy's brows shot up in surprise at that. "You... want to cook for me? Really?" For all his apparent emotional problems due to his sociopathy, she was absolutely floored that he'd even considered doing such a thing for her. She knew his logic in doing so, however, had nothing to do with himself and everything to do with Jacob. Jacob did it with his girlfriends, therefore it must be right and he could do the same thing with his. It was sweet, in a way. It was also a good thing Jacob seemed to be a good man, otherwise she was certain John would copy his behavior, thinking it absolutely normal. "That's very sweet of you. I can't cook at all, so it's also very much appreciated. Let's hope I have things you might need." She headed toward the kitchen area of the studio, resisting the urge to hold his hand as she did.

"What do you need? For the experiment or the cooking. Do tell me more about this study. If it will not mess with the results, of course." For all she knew, it could have a placebo effect and she wasn't supposed to know.

[asthenoseonyourface]

"I brought everything I'll need, you'll have the incidentals, I'm sure." John replied with his usual detached efficiency, a hesitation the only sign that he might be doing just a little more than simply copying his brother's behavior.

"Gonna make the poor man's version of a proper Irish stew. Only takes two hours...it's a recipe my mum came up with."

"As for the study," he continued, reaching the kitchen area and briskly unloading the vegetables and package of stew meat from his shopping bag, "I can't tell you about it, no. But it requires no equipment...just a couple of chairs. And a stopwatch, but I'll just use my phone. Do you have any beef broth, by chance? Or mushrooms?"

[coatandscarf]

Chairs and a stopwatch, eh? Just what this experiment entailed was leaving her curious. Musical chairs? No, somehow that didn't seem very right at all.

She motioned towards where she kept her pots and looked to see what she had in terms of canned goods. "You're lucky I do some crockpot cooking sometimes. Otherwise I'd never have beef broth." She grabbed a small carton and handed it up to him. "Negative on the mushrooms, though. I'm not a fan." She carefully rose to her feet once again, leaning against the countertop. "How can I help?"

[asthenoseonyourface]

"Mmmm...interesting." he mused quietly at the information about mushrooms, filing it away. He moved around her kitchen with brisk efficiency, laying his hands on things with precious little trouble, glancing at her now and again before somehow figuring out that she kept her knives in a drawer or her cutting board in a certain cupboard.

When she asked to help, he couldn't really think of anything she could do that he couldn't do faster, being a more experienced cook, so he thought about what Jacob might do.

Flashing her a smile borrowed from his brother, he took a chance. "Stand there and look edible?"

[coatandscarf]

She found a giggle escaping her at the line. "But if I look edible, then I'll only distract you, no? Come on, surely there's something I can cut or peel as you work on something else?" Although she was beyond flattered, wondering if that line was something he'd come up with on his own, or yet another bit from his brother. She couldn't let such a train of thought continue though, or else she'd be questioning everything he would do. "Need I say that my knife skills are nothing short of miraculous? I'm very good with my hands, so I'm told." She teased him, a smile playing at her lips.

[asthenoseonyourface]

Pleased that the line had worked to make her laugh, John filed it away for future use. His face settled back into more normal lines, but the warmth didn't totally fade from his eyes...after all, he really was pleased that he could make her smile.

"You can wash and cut up the potatoes." he offered. "But don't peel them, it's better with the peel on."

[coatandscarf]

Randy found her smile broadening in response. "I can do that, sure. How big would you like the potatoes cut?" He motioned as to the size and she grabbed the potatoes from the bag, moving to the sink to begin washing them.

"So were you already on the way when I texted you? I can't see you shopping and driving over here in that short a time. Then again, you could live next door for all I know," she realized with a chuckle.

[asthenoseonyourface]

John measured out a medium sized space with his fingers...not a guess, but an exact duplication of the way his mother used to show him.

"I was on the way when you texted me." he confirmed as he started peeling carrots. "I'd have been here sooner, but I got distracted by that study. It's psychological in nature...fascinating. After we've finished, I'll let you read it if you're interested."

[coatandscarf]

Randy arched a brow at that. Psychological study? This was going to be an interesting experiment, she could tell already. "I'd love to."

They continued to make light chit chat, mostly her asking him a few questions about his mother's cooking. She found it easy to help him, and the two didn't ever collide as they moved around each other in the small kitchen. Although John did most of the moving, considering he didn't let her help him with anything else. She was fine with that, content to grab a seat at one of the barstools and watch him as they continued their conversation. It almost felt... domestic. She never thought that would happen.

When he put the lid on the pot, she beamed at him. "Time for the experiment, then?"

[asthenoseonyourface]

John's answer was to dart into the living room. Noting the two large, comfortable looking easy chairs on either side of the couch, he started pushing them towards each other, leaving enough room for them to get through and sit down, but resulting in a severe lack of personal space once they did.

"I've adjusted some of the parameters to accommodate our current involvement," he explained, "but it's still nothing untoward, and we can stop any time you feel uncomfortable."

Planting himself in one chair, he gestured for her to sit in the chair facing him as he pulled out his cell phone and started fiddling with it.

[coatandscarf]

She found herself watching him curiously. It seemed to be a pattern, really. Randy wouldn't understand what John was doing, so she'd just sit back and watch until she did understand. He didn't seem to mind; in fact, he seemed used to it.

When he motioned for her to sit, though, she still didn't understand what was going on. Yet she moved nonetheless, sitting opposite him, her knees brushing up against his as she did. "Well, that's good to know." Would she have a reason to feel uncomfortable? Just what did he have in mind?

[asthenoseonyourface]

"Thought you would be." he replied, taking her remark at face value. Setting his phone down, he finally gave her his attention.

"The experiment will last for exactly sixty four minutes." he explained. "An alarm will chime in sixty minutes, a second at sixty four." he explained. "We stay seated for the entire time. In the first half, we'll converse truthfully. Neither of us can be flippant, dismissive, or judgmental. Once the first alarm sounds, we stop talking and sustain eye contact until the second alarm. I'll pick the initial topic of discussion, and we'll proceed on that general theme. There's no other rules or conditions besides that, after we begin...just do what comes naturally."

[coatandscarf]

Randy's eyes widened as he explained the setting of the experiment. It sounded like a heightened version of 'Truth or Dare', only without the Dare. She realized this would do wonders in them getting to know one another, but he seemed to think that such knowledge came all at once, rather than over time.

Yet part of her was curious about the four minutes at the end. What purpose did that serve? She wracked her brain for a few moments, thinking quietly to herself. If she agreed to this, she knew she'd have to be honest, more honest than she was probably used to being. Knowing him, he'd ask questions that she wasn't entirely prepared to answer, or for him to know.

"I guess I can't plead the fifth then, eh?" She quipped, her soft smile indicating she was only joking. She bit her bottom lip lightly before giving him a nod. "Alright. I'll agree to this for now. When do you want to start?" She shifted to grab her phone out of her pocket, turning it off and setting it aside on the coffeetable.

[asthenoseonyourface]

"Now."

John tapped a button on his phone without preamble, starting the timer.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and focused on her face. He grew very still and very quiet, an increasingly recognizable sign of reluctance or disquiet in him.

"When."

He stopped then, didn't trail off but ended, as though he couldn't go further than that. Growing still and silent for a few moments, he tried again.

"When."

A pause.

"When I was a little boy."

He stilled again, swallowing thickly and, in a startlingly human gesture, reached up to rub the edges of his mouth with his thumb and forefinger.

"I didn't realize this would be so difficult." he murmured, taking a deep breath and again settling himself in. Holding Randy's gaze, he steeled himself and got the first words out.

"When I was a little boy, my brother and sister saved me from becoming a serial killer."

[coatandscarf]

That was not what Randy was expecting to hear. Yet at the same time, she could almost see it. A man as emotionally disconnected as he seemed to be, one who saw everything like he did, and then didn't seem to care about the repercussions... it was a miracle that he wasn't a criminal. "How? What did they do? What were you going to do?" She asked him softly, resisting the overwhelming urge to take his hands just then.

[asthenoseonyourface]

John shifted, allowing his knees to fully press against Randy's as he shook his head a little. He was still looking at her, but not quite so hard, more through her and somewhere into the middle distance of memory without totally abandoning his focus on the conversation.

"They were born at the same time I was, that's all." he replied. "I never have fully understood what binds us together, being triplets...being a twin...but they knew long before anyone else did that there was something wrong with me. They knew I was broken, and they seemed to know why. I didn't understand about things like compassion and empathy, and I did have feelings, that's what made me so dangerous. So...when Jock taught me to play sports, he included rules like smiling and laughing and never injuring a child. Jane would play house and dolls with me, and taught me how to hold a baby. She showed me how fragile children were, and taught me how to play pretend...how to make believe I was someone else, someone normal."

He stilled again, reaching up with that same gesture, rubbing the edges of his mouth with thumb and forefinger.

"They gave me rules and coping mechanisms, because I didn't care about anything but my own needs. I loved no one but Mum, Da, Janie and Jock...and at home, Janie and Jock were all that really mattered."

[coatandscarf]

Randy let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding. "Christ, I thought you were going to tell me you almost went on a killing spree at the tender age of five."

Still, the idea of having to be taught compassion was a disconcerting thing for her to wrap her head around. It flew in the face of everything she believed in, really. The concept of 'self first' was one she never really had subscribed to.

"You're lucky you had them. You're lucky you still have them. But you know that. You've told me that already," she remarked, recalling their conversation from earlier in the day.

[asthenoseonyourface]

John nodded in agreement. "I am...very lucky." he admitted. "I was never...quite that out of control, I've always been very..."

He paused again, gaze moving to somewhere around her chin as he sought a word.

"Some have said cold, others analytical, others cruel. Murder is a crime of passion, and I've never cared enough to have that...except when it comes to my siblings." He paused, frowning lightly. "I bit my da once for spanking Jock. I was...three, I think, and it was harmless, a slap to the butt for sass or something like that. But the cold fury of a child...I still remember the taste of blood, and I remember being pleased that Mum was scared of me." He paused, exhaling hard with a shake of his head.

"Janie called me grod...that's Gaelic for 'rotten'...and wouldn't play with me for three whole days. I never struck out against my parents again after that."

[coatandscarf]

That John remembered these events from when he was just three years old spoke volumes about their significance in his development. It also spoke volumes as to his relationship with his siblings. Evidently, even as a child, Jane had been the emotional leader of the lot. It also spoke as to his ability to be 'trained' to care, since he had no inclination to do it on his own.

"Your move to America... it wasn't an economic opportunity, was it? It had to do with you. It had to do with them, too." Randy tilted her head gently, looking at his eyes. "Parents might be scared of their child, but they're also scared for them quite a lot. They'd want to help you, after an event such as that."

[asthenoseonyourface]

He nodded at that, his expression shifting strangely. "There was a psychologist here willing to treat me in the manner I needed. The specialist I saw back in Dublin thought the root of my problem was overidentification with my twin and codependency with my sister. He wanted to split us up, have my siblings spend a few months with an aunt in Glasgow. He ended up getting knee-checked, and walked away with the tiniest black eye you'll ever see on a man."

His expression shifted again, twitching towards a smile, and it was becoming clear John was trying not to laugh.

"Jock knocked him down, but I didn't hit him. Janie did."

[coatandscarf]

Randy laughed softly at that. "Of course it was Jane. She's almost motherly toward you. It's quite cute, actually." The smile faded as Randy thought of her own situation. "Wish I had that. As the oldest sibling, I'm almost obligated to be the mother of the family. I don't mind it, not really, but..." She looked up then, giving him a faint smile. "...It'd be nice not to have to be the strong one, for once. To have someone to look after me again." Her gaze fell then, looking down at her hands, seeing her fingers trembling slightly. It had nothing to do with her nerves for once, and everything to do with her wound.

"...I haven't had that since my mother was murdered."

[asthenoseonyourface]

Warmth drained from his expression at that, and he didn't realize he was holding her hands until he could actually feel her shaking. Looking down with a start to see how his body had betrayed him, he stilled...but didn't let go.

"Did they catch who did it?"

[coatandscarf]

Randy shook her head gently. "No." Of course they hadn't. She couldn't be so lucky, to actually have closure over her mother's death. Her eyes flickered up at him and a humorless smile crossed her features. "Don't get any ideas. I'm not asking. I'm just... well, you opened up about something that was difficult for you. It... only seemed fair that I do the same thing." She shifted her hands a bit, covering one of his with one of hers, squeezing his hand between her palms to regain some composure.

"I miss her. She was the main reason I joined the military. I figured maybe there I could do her proud, help other people that were fighting to help us." Randy let out a shaky breath, lowering her gaze. "Instead, it nearly broke me. I'm sure I'm not telling you anything you didn't already know, on that front though." After all, he'd seen right through her, mere minutes after meeting her. Years of a carefully constructed persona, wiped away in moments.

[asthenoseonyourface]

"I didn't know all of it." He admitted, tipping his head to try and recapture her gaze. He gave her fingers a squeeze, running his thumbs idly over her knuckles. "I can see things, but...feelings aren't really my area." He paused, huffing with silent, humorless laughter. "That was always Jane...not as smart as Jock and me, but she can see your life story in your face, your posture...hopes, dreams, loves...sometimes she can even fix it. We're all geniuses...that's hers."

[coatandscarf]

She shook her head then, squeezing his hands in hers. "That's not what I mean. I mean... you saw through the mask. The... 'fake' me that I'd built for myself, the walls I'd spent years making." Her face was saddened when they looked up at him. "You knew what happened to me. Not Jane, not Jacob. *You*. And the first thing you did was protect me. You warned Jane to take the lead, rather than Jacob." She released him then, absently bringing a hand up to rub her shoulder. "Do you know how long it's been since I've had someone watching out for me like that? It... it feels like forever..."

[asthenoseonyourface]

"Of course I saw, it's obvious." John huffed, shifting closer, wrapping his hand more securely around the one she still held. He was transfixed by her face now, watching her with a curious tilt of his head. He could feel the effects of the experiment already, clinically pleased to know that he wasn't so far removed that he was above it.

"As for protecting you...Jane takes care of people, Jock knows how they think, but I protect them because it's the only socially acceptable thing I'm any good at." He paused, growing still and quiet again.

"You don't." He stopped, then tried again. "You don't have to care about someone to protect them. Caring is not an advantage. All a person needs is to be important. When they're important, you'll do anything to keep them safe, healthy, even happy if that serves your purposes."

He hesitated again, shifting closer still. He reached for her other hand again, gently removing it from her shoulder to grasp it securely in his. He was understanding the point of holding hands now, so he no longer did it as a ploy to take her pulse...but for some reason, he was doing it now, one hand twisted so his fingers rested against the inside of her wrist.

"It's one of the reasons I don't understand why you're still scared." he went on honestly, strangely innocent. "It's not a judgment, just...I'm protecting you now. I will do unspeakable things to protect you...even if it's boring, as long as I can stand it. But I will also kill for you. Anyone who tries to hurt you or take you away. How can you be afraid when you're safe?"

[coatandscarf]

Randy shook her head, wondering why on earth his taking her hand away from her shoulder almost felt like he was removing yet another barrier from her.

"...Because suddenly, I have something to lose," she responded, her voice barely above a whisper. "Because I'm vulnerable. Again, and in utterly new ways." She let out a heavy breath, her eyes looking away briefly. "I've... I've never had this, John. Not anywhere like this before. Knowing that you're managing to strip away all these layers from me... it's terrifying. Yet at the same time, it's... it's thrilling? It's..." She shut her eyes, squeezing his fingers. "I'm sorry. I just don't know how to say it."

[asthenoseonyourface]

John shifted closer, their legs pressed together from knee to ankle nearly, joined hands pressed to the insides of his knees. He...felt strange, oddly agonized and desperate. He didn't understand, really didn't get it, and he hated that. He hated not knowing something, there wasn't a thing he didn't know, not a thing he couldn't see.

"I can't help what I am...what I see." he replied quietly, watching her face, transfixed by her fear and despair. "And you? You're...you're interesting. You're new, you're...you're not like anyone I've ever met."

Something in his expression changed then, something entering it very close to emotion, to raw and childlike awe.

"You think. You see. You're...like me."

[coatandscarf]

The chuckle came out of her despite herself, and the slight blush on her cheeks rose without her wanting it to. But his words were able to draw her eyes to him once more, allowing herself to gain some control over herself from their contact with one another.

The control was quickly lost, the words flowing out of her like a series of waves on a beach. "I'm nowhere near as brilliant as you are, John. Right now, I almost feel like I'm a new toy for you to figure out. What happens when you have? What happens when I have nothing more to reveal? Once all the defenses are gone and you've left me bare." She drew in a shaky breath before continuing. "John... what happens when I'm no longer interesting to you?" Her eyes looked at him nervously, wondering if she'd gone too far, if she'd asked entirely the wrong questions, or if she was just being too emotional for him. She was terribly uncertain about everything involving John Riley, and it brought out the biggest fears within her as a result.

She was not expecting this sort of conversation at all when they started. Now, she was worried they'd never speak again.

[asthenoseonyourface]

"Well," he sighed with a mild, practical frown, "you'll be dead, and I probably will be, too. Because I wouldn't let that happen."

Off her look, he shrugged. "Randy, you see. You don't have to be clever to do that, you just have to open your eyes and look. People don't do that...that makes you different. Constantly, eternally different. I want to know how much you see, I want to show you what I see. I want to see if you can grow, I want to help you grow." He paused, tilting his head thoughtfully.

"And...I don't think I'll ever get bored with the things you make me feel."

[coatandscarf]

She was surprised by his answer. However, she was not surprised when he saw it in her face and continued on, explaining himself. The man was proving an enigma. Randy was not shocked to hear that his first explanation had to do with her ability to see similarly to himself. She’d never met someone else that could do that herself until she’d met him. For someone that seemed to see as much as him, she could imagine it was even more jarring to find outside of his family, who seemed to do it themselves in their own ways. She’d never considered a huge deal, but then again, she hadn’t made it her career. It also didn’t consume her like it did him. For her, there was more to life than the details. She had to admit she was curious if she could learn such techniques herself, to apply them beyond the scope of what she already applied them to.

But when he mentioned that he wouldn’t get bored with what she made him feel, she was floored. A self-professed sociopath... was admitting that he had emotions? Specifically, toward her? “What do you feel, John? Can you explain it to me?” Her voice was hopeful, knowing full well that if he actually felt something, they had a chance. She wasn’t just an intellectual toy for him to figure out, if that was the case: she was an honest-to-God person.

~~~~~~~~~

John snorted a little at that, giving her his usual impatient, borderline childishly petulant glower.

"Yes, I have feelings...I'm a sociopath, not a psychopath." he reminded her with a huff. "I feel, I just don't know how to relate." He paused, growing still again as he tried to give voice to what exactly she did make him feel. The dark heat when she kissed him, the glittering clarity that came after every hit of her he got, the wild, clawing...hunger that began when kissing her, touching her wasn't enough.

"You're the most dangerous drug I've ever done." he finally admitted. "Deeper than heroin, sweeter than Vicodin, brighter than cocaine." He stopped, then...

"When I'm with you...when you call me Holmes, when you do that thing with quoting the story, when you notice things like a person is supposed to...I understand why Holmes kept Irene Adler's picture. I understand why she was never anything more or less to him than The Woman."

[coatandscarf]

She watched him as he paused, to really think about what he was going to say. Hearing that he’d done those drugs surprised her, though. The Vicodin, not so much, for she recalled her threat to him about taking her prescription pad. She could imagine he’d want something to calm himself down every once in awhile. But the cocaine and heroin was surprising, if only because they were more an upper than a downer.

“I... I’m flattered. Truly. But at the same time, she never was anything more than a mind to him. His interest in her never went beyond that. Obviously, in Scandal, she was married, and he was on a case, but... there’s never really any indication that he wanted more from her than her mind. He approved of it, thought highly of it, yes. But he never wanted her.” Randy stopped then, curling her fingers around his lightly. “I think I know the answer to what I’m about to ask, but I want to hear you say it. Do you want me? And I mean beyond the physical.” She chuckled softly, stroking the back of his hand lightly with her thumb. “The physical is pretty obvious, after all. We can’t seem to keep our hands off each other.” Her gaze flickered up to his. “What I really mean is, do you actually feel an attachment? Or, maybe, think you might someday feel an attachment?”

----------

“I’m capable of love.” he pointed out, briefly distracted by the caress of her thumb over the back of his hand...it was soft, and it made him feel so warm. “I love my brother and sister. I love them so much it hurts...you’re asking if I can love you.”

He thought about that hard for a second. Leaning forward more, he drew his hands up to rest under his chin...without letting go of hers, pressing their joined fingers against the underside of his chin as he gave the question long and serious thought. He wanted her, physically, that in and of itself was unusual...no, shocking. He was fascinated by her mind, enchanted by the idea that she could be as detail oriented as he was and yet not suffer from the same maladies of the mind that tormented him daily.

Love...that was tricky, love, and if he tried to name what he felt now, what he might feel in the future...

“You’re mine, Randy. You belong to me, and even if I never fall in love with you, even if I get bored or hate you or make you hate me...you’ll always be mine. You’ll always belong to me. It happened the day we met, when I asked if you had anything interesting to say. And you did. So.”

He stilled, getting quiet again. Reflexively, his eyes slid to his phone and he was startled, physically jarred to see they were well over halfway through the time already.

“So...you’re mine. That means you’ll always be safe, no one can hurt you.” He paused, growing as still and as quiet as she’d seen him.

“And it serves my purposes for you to be happy. So I’ll make sure you are. Because you’re mine.”

[coatandscarf]

“John, I’m not an object. I can’t belong to anyone.” Yet, the prospect of actually belonging to someone, to matter enough that they’d take care of you so possessively, was definitely an attractive trait for someone that had felt so alone for so long. Absently, she brushed her fingers along his jawline, her hands held in place by his own. For once, she didn’t seem alarmed. Hearing how he wanted her safe, how he wanted her happy, might have been enough to know that she might actually be so.

She lapsed into silence then, thinking to herself about the conversation they’d just had, and she realized that if they were being honest with one another, she wasn’t being entirely honest with him. “You know, you’ve gotten more out of me than I ever thought possible. By tearing away at my defenses, you’ve let me bring out a part of myself that hasn’t come out in a very long time. And yet...” Her eyes flickered downward as she thought about how to phrase this properly. “I don’t know how much I can give you. I can’t promise that if we ever went past... kissing that I won’t start to push you away. I just don’t know, and I hate myself for not knowing.” Her grip on his hands tightened slightly as a shudder left her. “I hate myself for having something I’ve never had before, and not knowing if I can give you want you might want of me. What *I* want to give you. What we might want to... do with one another.” She couldn’t bring herself to look him in the eye then. “Can you be patient with me? Can you understand that while I want you, I might not be able to handle having you?”

~~~~~~~

John regarded her in dead silence, thinking over her question with more care than he usually gave anything. Time seemed to stretch as he rolled her words over in his head.

“How...do you do that?” He asked after several minutes of silence. “I can’t over it, every time it happens I find myself surprised all over again.”

He found his head tipping, it wasn’t that far to cause his lips to touch her fingers, breath warm and mouth soft against her knuckles. Again, he went quiet, the moments without words stretching infinitely as he caught the scent of her, the promise of the taste of her and felt that dark hunger again, that slow slide into shadow.

“Vicodin slows my mind down.” he explained after a long while. “It makes it easier to deal with the boredom, stops my head from rotting, but you...you stop me.”

One of their linked hands fell away, resting thoughtlessly against his leg, pinning her hand between his own and his knee.

“I never even wanted to kiss anyone before I kissed you. I didn’t know it could do what you do. I didn’t...understand that everything could stop dead, just dead...and that it could get so quiet. I didn’t realize that the inside of your own head could be so still...so peaceful.”

He was leaning forward without thinking, the other two hands falling, both of hers now turned to be pinned against his knees.

“Then when it’s over...” He trailed off, shaking his head with a look of pure awe. “I see things I never dreamed I could. What I do now, it’s doubled, quadrupled. It gives me an edge cocaine never could.”

He lowered his gaze, shaking his head. “That question...it’s like kissing you. Talking to you, my head just...slows down. I think this must be what it’s like for a normal person to think, a clever normal person. I’m not...used to going at this speed.”

He fell silent again, still, watching their joined hands on his legs. That dark hunger, if he tried he could give it a name...and it wanted. It wanted her, if he was honest and really looking he could see that red, ravenous thing inside of him that wanted...that wanted...

He shut his eyes and let himself come face to face with it. He let it out inside his own head, tethered by Randy’s fingers twined with his, and could almost feel her under his hands. Not her fingers, but her cheek, her skin...something softer, warmer, more intimate. Fingers gripping, breath shallow and rapid, something like frustration but sweeter, like anger but softer. Bruises and bites and scratches, not to harm but to mark to claim.

Mine.

His head lifted, his eyes dark, pupils blown wide as they met hers, mouth opening to answer...

…just as the alarm sounded.

[coatandscarf]

Her heart fell, because she knew that the experiment had forced them to speak honestly with one another, possibly for the first time in each of their lives. With the alarm going off, she wondered if she’d ever get her answer. She almost spoke, to ask him to ignore the clock and answer her anyway, but she didn’t dare. It would ruin the experiment, this conversation that he’d clearly set up for a purpose.

She slipped out of his grip, reaching up to cradle his jaw with her hand, her fingers stroking his cheek. It was as if she wished she could pull the answer out of him, as if he could communicate it to her with nary a word.

Randy’s other hand slipped out of his grip, moving along his knee to the outside of his thigh. Gingerly, she ran her fingertips along the side of his thigh, as if touch alone would give her the answer she wanted.

Could he want her? She knew he did. The question was, could he wait if she asked him to?

Her eyes locked with his, the conflict clear in her eyes, looking for any sort of sign from him as to his answer. Would he tell her when the alarm rang again? Might she be able to deduce it beforehand?

~~~~~~~~

...this was unexpected.

Something in him was missing now, something that had been keeping that dark, clawing thing locked inside, safe inside a cage. It was a little thing, like an open lock or a key slipped carefully inside, waiting to be turned, but it was still there, and as her hand slid up his thigh, her fingers running along his jaw, something in him was giving way and he couldn’t breathe.

No...worse than that. He couldn’t stop the hand that abruptly lifted to the one at his cheek, fingers clamping tight around her wrist, then restlessly releasing her and clutching at her hand as though to tear it away from his face...but no, no, that limb he had no control over was pressing it harder against his face. He had to stop, physically stop himself from pulling harder, tugging her closer.

He was painfully, brutally aware of their legs pressed together, ankle to knee, heat through cloth.

His was falling, only not...his forehead pressed to hers, eyes nearly black now as they locked with hers.

That hunger, the thing inside him that wanted to touch and taste and mark and claim and howl...he’d drawn its eye by facing it, but looking into it, and now it was reaching through the bars towards Randy’s scent, Randy’s eyes, Randy’s soft skin and perfect mouth. It was reaching past a cage that he’d weakened, somehow, just by noticing it, and now as he looked into her eyes, he realized that the thing had a name.

Passion.

[coatandscarf]

It hurt not to talk. It had only been seconds since the alarm had gone off, but already she felt like there had been so much more left unsaid. He almost seemed to agree, his hand cupping her own and pressing it hard against her cheek. He was encouraging her, wanted her to touch him more.

His forehead came to rest against hers, and as their eyes locked, she noticed just how dilated his pupils were. Oh yes, he definitely was encouraging her, as if he was trying to get her past her insecurities, so he could indulge in his desire.

This time, the shaking in her hand was almost entirely her nerves, but she shifted her fingers so they were curled around his free hand, shifting it so his palm was facing upward on her knee. Her eyes never wavered from his as she purposefully put her palm in his, her fingertips resting against the pulse point of his wrist, knowing full well that he could feel her heightened heart rate as well. God, she wanted him. Hopefully, words wouldn’t be necessary just then to show him some encouragement.

~~~~~~~~~~

His heart wasn’t racing, but it was beating hard, so painfully hard, and there was a sound in his ears that he wasn’t used to, a strange new sound that was a little frightening. A beast at his elbow, a monster clawing its way out of him...

It was his own breath, harsh and heavy through his nose and straining as it tried to force its way in and out of his body.

After a moment he realized that he was shaking, too, the hand she’d drawn onto her own knee trembling not with need, but with restraint. Those gentle touches, that tremor of fear he felt in her was turning that key, easing that lock open. The beast roared with a rush of blood in his ears, and wild, desperate thoughts filled his head, danced through his gaze. Her, naked and flush with desire under him...her hands on his body, his mouth on her skin, sinking all the way into that dark, hot abyss until neither one of them could think ever again and all they could do was feel...

His hand shot up from her knee, sudden and rough, fingers burying themselves in her hair, pressing her forehead closer to his. It was soft, warm and sleek under his fingers, and he tried to distract himself by winding his hand deeper as he felt her tense under his hand, careful not to pull or tug or cause her pain.

I don’t want to hurt her.

He’d share it after, when he could speak and not destroy the experiment, but for now it simply showed on his face, that sudden burst of emotion he couldn’t control, making his breath catch and a strange, strangled noise rise from the back of his throat.

[coatandscarf]

She’d tensed initially as he suddenly moved his hand to her hair, a memory rising to the surface at the action. But he did nothing with it, instead drawing her closer to him, their noses nuzzled against the other. He didn’t pull, he didn’t tug, he didn’t force her to do anything else but move closer to him. She couldn’t protest doing that.

Her now free hand came up to press her index finger against his lips as the sound escaped him, her mind quickly coming to a decision. Her fingers gently trailed past his lips, along his chin and down the exposed skin of his long neck before settling on the collar of that purple shirt that complimented him so well. Her fingers gently trembled as they slid along his neck, following the collar for a moment towards the back of his neck. They stopped then, her fingertips just playing with the curls that were just a bit longer than the rest on the back of his head before they moved back to the front of the collar. The hand on his cheek moved then, lowering to join her other hand, carefully starting to undo the top button of his shirt, purposefully ignoring the trembling in her fingertips.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

His breathing grew shaky as her fingers moved over his skin, taking him by surprise and bringing him, shockingly, to that place on the glittering knife’s edge of clarity when he could see everything, when all was revealed and nothing was too much...when his mind expanded to encompass the whole world and, just for one tiny fraction of a second, he knew what God must feel like with the entirety of knowledge at his command.

At the same time, he could feel her, actually feel her turning that key and gently slipping the lock out of the cage door. His blood roared again, the red maw of Passion screaming inside of him, I don’t want to hurt her I don’t want to hurt her I don’t want to hurt her...

His hand darted again to catch her wrist, to stop her. His lips parted, and his breath was a warm rush, in and out, trying to get enough air to clear his head and focus. That part was easy, focusing...he could do anything in this perfect place, but all he wanted was to focus on her, the weave of her shirt, the delicate calluses of hands scrubbed too often and too harshly, the waxy smudge of lipstick long worn away from her mouth...

His body screamed and his eyes pleaded, his mouth frozen by decision, unable to speak aloud.

Don’t do this unless you’re sure. Don’t give me permission. Don’t let me hurt you.

[coatandscarf]

Her head tilted at him automatically, giving him a look that could only be explained as curious. He didn’t want her? Her hand caught by his, her fingers brushed against the pulse point of his neck, feeling it still pounding against her skin. No, he wanted her, that much was certain. Then why was he stopping her?

He doesn’t want to hurt you.

The thought crashed into her mind, pushing aside any and all other intentions. She straightened then, drawing her forehead away from his, her eyes not leaving his as she did. Her hands stilled, one just grazing the skin of his neck, the other gripping his shirt collar within her fingertips.

She drew in a breath to steady herself, to think deeply about whether he’d actually hurt her or not. She looked into his eyes, trying to read him like she’d never read anyone before.

He was nervous about hurting her. He didn’t want to hurt her. The question then became... could he hold himself back?

Her body moved without further thought on her own part. She tugged at his grip, freeing herself from it and returning to his collar, her fingers making quick work of the top button.

The sound of the alarm was loud in the quiet room, but the reaction was instant.

She had her answer, and she didn’t need to hear it aloud to know it. Not anymore.

Closing the distance between them once more, she leaned in and captured his lips with her own, kissing him lingeringly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sound of the alarm was the sound of the cage opening in his head, and suddenly the beast was loose.

John was scared.

He’d never given into instinct before, to the need of his body or the deeper, illogical and primal urges of the human mind and heart. He didn’t let himself go, he didn’t surrender to anything, but tonight...in this moment, in this instant, he wasn’t in control anymore. He was a slave to the beast, lost in a strange red haze of heat and hunger and...passion.

He felt his hands tangle in her hair, waited for something horrible to happen. He waited to feel her blanche, to cause her pain without meaning to...he waited to scare her.

Hands slid gently through dark, silky waves, bunching and twisting and stroking. One slid down the side of her neck, cupping her nape, then slipping back into her hair and back down her neck over and over again. He was leaning back in his seat, taking her with him, drawing her closer, onto his lap like that first day. He was kissing her hard, hungry, hot, knowing he should stop and unable to...unwilling to.

He couldn’t breathe. He didn’t want to.

And somewhere, a dog was growling, a massive animal with a low, hungry snarl, distant and muffled...

It took him a second to realize it was him making those noises. The beast living in his skin, growling like an animal, touching and stroking her hair and her neck like a bolt of silk...dying slowly, because this time it wasn’t a big enough fix.

This time, he needed more.

[coatandscarf]

As he pulled her onto his lap, a moan left her, the sound muffled by his own mouth as it left hers. She shifted so her legs would straddle his own, content to let herself be drawn in closer to him. Her lips captured his hungrily, the growl that left him somehow managing to excite her, rather than make her recoil in horror. She was having this reaction on him. She was.

Her fingers moved, turning her attention to the blazer, sliding her hands along his shoulders and under the jacket to ease it off his shoulders. It forced him to release her for a second, but it was worthwhile. Randy’s hands ran along his arms as the jacket slid off him. Lean. Not overly muscular, yet strong. Her hands moved back up to his collar, her fingers working on the rest of his buttons while the kiss grew more heated.

~~~~~~~~~~

John was amenable, albeit briefly, to letting her help him out of his jacket, tossing it on the ground with a low snarl before he was kissing her again...air wasn’t what he needed, it was her, and with the jacket off she was closer now. Her hands were warmer as they slid over his arms, as those deft doctor’s fingers flicked open the buttons of his shirt.

It still wasn’t enough.

The next logical step was to remove the jumper she was wearing, but there were two problems with executing that step: one, he’d have to stop kissing her to do it. Two, she might be uncomfortable if he took the initiative.

Working out a reasonable compromise, John’s wandering hand finally settled at the back of her neck, kissing her harder as his other hand slid down to insinuate itself beneath her jumper, pressing his palm against the bare small of her back...

…oh. Oh, that was...almost enough. Almost, but not quite...not nearly enough...

[coatandscarf]

The response was instant, as she drew in a sharp breath in response to the hand on the small of her back. It had always been ridiculous, but the softest touches there tended to get her going faster than a kiss. It was personal, it was a place not often touched, it was possessive. Her back arched, and a moan left her as he pressed his palm against her skin. Her fingers stilled against his shirt as she recomposed herself, a short first pause in what she was certain would be a series of them.

Slowly, her hands began to move once more, continuing their trek along his buttoned shirt, slowly exposing his skin to her. As her fingers ran down his torso, she’d stroke his skin ever so lightly, her fingertips teasing him gently. Finally, the last button was undone and she ducked her hands back up to the shoulders to slide the material off his shoulders.

She withdrew from the kiss then, straightening up in her slightly taller position to look down at him, deciding she really liked what she saw. His bottom lip was slightly swollen, his chest was rising and falling heavier than it had been not that long ago, his curls were at risk of falling into his face, and his dilated eyes stared up at her with an increasingly high amount of desire. She made no motion to get near him again, instead reaching out with her hands to run them gently across his shoulders and down his bare chest. He was by no means a man with an overly muscled physique, but that was fine by her. His frame was exactly as she expected it, the lean build of a scholar, possibly that of a casual swimmer or jogger. For a man that probably got no overt exercise, she couldn’t say she didn’t approve.

It became increasingly obvious that the placement of his hand was because of things other than warmth, and more to do with restraint. His own restraint. He was trying not to scare her off, wasn’t he? She could see it in his eyes that he was just as eager to look her over as she was looking over him. Biting her bottom lip lightly, painfully aware that he would read her every scar on her skin, she found herself nodding in silent permission for him to proceed as he’d like.

~~~~~~~~~

Her fingers, ghosting over his skin, were like the kiss of a butterfly’s wings. He could feel those calluses, hands ruined by the trials of the medical profession, relentless scrubbing and labor, smoother at the fingertips where her fingers hammered at the keyboard of a computer. He was lost, for a short while, in the study of how they felt with every brush against his chest...until she touched him, really touched him.

There was something strangely humanizing about being stripped, having his clothing smoothed away and his body exposed before she was learning him the same way he was learning her, analyzing the contours of muscle and flesh actively, and then she was giving him permission to do the same...

He couldn’t think. He didn’t care.

John reached out and caught the hem of her jumper, tugging upwards as she lifted her arms with all the speed and dexterity of an overeager child opening a Christmas present. Only then did he still, taking her in visually and doing just that: reading her body like a road map of her life.

Erratic pattern of scarring, shrapnel...damage done to one, two, three nerve clusters overall. Appendectomy, age eight most likely...pipes in the house have been malfunctioning...

The revelation was blinding just then as he took her in, an epiphany that brought him back to a perfection in the pure clarity of thought and reason. Logic and passion merged, and John had to wonder if this was how it was for everyone...no, just her. Just Randy, it had to be. This wasn't common, this wasn't ordinary...and the poor woman didn't even know, she had no clue...

With a sudden, uncharacteristically bright smile, John drew her in for a kiss, then broke away and shifted to press his lips to the pulse in her throat, flicking his tongue against that delicate point, tasting and testing and studying.

He was no longer limited by eyes and nose and ears...touch and taste, that was the secret of passion. Worlds of things he didn't know, couldn't see...every minute, every second, the body was acquiring data.

How could he get bored with her when he could find something new to learn every single time he touched her?

[coatandscarf]

Randy had to fight hard to resist the urge to squirm as his eyes looked her over, seemingly breaking her down piece by piece as his eyes lingered over her marks. Somehow, it was slightly less uncomfortable than she thought it would be, because he didn’t linger on her breasts, or her hips, or waist, or anything of the sort. Unsurprisingly, John seemed more interested in the other things, the things unique to her. Her scars in particular seemed to draw his attention, and she knew that he’d more carefully inspect it once he looked over her back. She found his actions rather comforting, really. He didn’t seem interested in the size of her breasts (yet), or her own physique. She should have known it would be like this, that he wouldn’t judge her based on her proportions or anything like that.

Then he smiled. Really smiled, one unlike any she’d ever seen from him. It nearly melted her. The kiss that followed sent a shiver down her spine, but a small gasp escaped her as his lips began to wander, only to have a faint moan escape her as he began to flick his tongue against the pulse of her neck. Her hands shifted, gripping onto his shoulders as she realized how unsteady her legs were going to feel in this precarious balance on his lap and chair. She tilted her head back and slightly sideways to give him better access to the skin of her neck, silently encouraging him to continue.