missthis_ass | (no subject)

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nate

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Chloe refuses to call this domesticity.

The very word makes her feel as if she's eaten something rancid and it's all about to come back up, so she doesn't even allow herself to think it, but she does have to admit to an outside observer what she's doing with Nate right now probably looks like a relationship. Not that anyone is observing them at the moment, at least as far as she knows, because it's rather early in the morning and the sun is just beginning to come through the curtains and if anyone is up this early in the morning she expects they have better things to do than spy on her and Nate.

Partly because Nate's still asleep. He's hardly doing anything exciting.

She doesn't stay at his place every night and he doesn't stay at hers all the time either, but she has to admit they're spending more nights together than they are apart and she finds she doesn't actually mind it all that much. There's no itch under her skin that tells her she ought to run, there's no need for extra space, because if there's anyone who understands that she sometimes needs a bit of time alone, it's Nate. She can go to her place whenever she likes and he doesn't say a word.

It also means when she gets threatening letters from the people who burned down the building they were in and caused her bloody injury, she can keep them to herself. That's a thing she feels mildly guilty about and so she has all three of the letters stuffed into her jacket pocket, which is lying on the bedroom floor about six feet away, exactly where she had dumped it the night before in an effort to shed as many layers in as little amount of time as possible.

That's something she can blame on Nate. It's his own fault she'd needed to get him naked so quickly.

But she knows she ought to share the letters with him and she will, just as soon as he's awake. And for the time being, as the sun leaks in the room, she's just going to enjoy the view and she settles down next to Nate again, dragging her fingertips over his chest.

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In reality Nate has been awake for about five minutes. He can feel the sun easing through the curtains, warming his skin in places. Chloe's fingers follow the path the sun leaves behind, trailing over his chest, and there's still a part of him that thinks if he opens his eyes, she'll disappear. He's still getting used to this, her staying until morning, waking up with her still beside him in the bed.

The longer he pretends to stay asleep, the longer he can enjoy this, but he also knows Chloe. Sooner or later, likely sooner, she's going to get bored of being awake by herself and she'll force him to get up anyway. "Are you staring at me?" he mumbles before slowly opening his eyes. He blinks through the cracks of sunlight, turns his head to face her, and he still can't help the dumb smile that creeps onto his lips. There are still things they haven't talked about, things that he knows they need to eventually, but for now this is nice. Nicer than he thought it could ever be.

He reaches out to trace the line of her jaw with his fingers, just to make sure she really is still there, and from there it's too tempting not to draw her towards him for a kiss. It's probably unfair that she still looks this good in the mornings, and even as he kisses her he wants to roll her over and reenact last night. "I mean, you're allowed," he continues when he pulls away for a moment, giving her a wink. "It's perfectly understandable."

"No, I'm staring at the handsome man on the other side of you," she answers in a low voice, but she goes happily enough when he pulls her forward for the kiss. Her palm presses flat against his chest and she rolls when he draws her toward him, settling more comfortably against him. They've been here before, in a similar arrangement, one that ended only a few weeks later when it had become very clear to Chloe just where Nate's affections had really been. At the time she'd stepped away willingly, but it hadn't really been a choice, and ever since they'd started sleeping together again in Darrow, she'd felt that niggling little fear.

It's a fear that still exists, even if it's mostly quiet these days, deeply hidden and never spoken of. And it's not a fear that's entirely fair, given what she'd been getting up to before they'd decided to really give this a go, so Chloe's decided to do what she can to set that aside. Give it all a fresh start, as it were.

"Oh, I'm allowed to, am I?" she asks when they part, resting her chin against the back of her hand, her palm still on Nate's chest. "I hadn't realized I needed permission to objectify you. If I had, I'd have tried this whole thing a long time ago."

This whole thing. That'd been a chance for her to call it a relationship, to say out loud what they're doing here and she'd balked at the last moment. Chloe's not the sort to shy away from anything, but here in this moment, she still feels like she can't call Nate her boyfriend.

That's something to work on, she supposes.

He doesn't bother with the charade of looking behind him to see what other handsome man she might be talking about. She'd only roll her eyes at him if he did, and while there are times Nate gets a kick out of annoying her, now isn't one of them. They're still working out what they are to each other, what they're doing here, but he finds that with the first light of the morning shining through the window and Chloe in his bed, he doesn't much care. It seems to matter less what this is, so long as he doesn't have to give it up.

It's been a long time since Nate had anything like this, anybody that he wanted to keep hold of in this way, so he's willing to go with it. It's been more than two years since he last saw Elena and he doesn't go through his days hoping or expecting that she'll show up anymore. He's here and she's in Yemen and his wedding ring is god only knows where. He loved her and he's never going to pretend like he didn't, but it feels like someone else's life now, almost. Nate's spent his life moving quickly from one city to another, one life to another, and he'd gotten used to leaving people behind.

He'd thought, once, that Elena was going to be different. That he could get married and try to be a good husband and maybe have a halfway normal life. He'd turned out a pretty crappy husband in the end, and when he'd walked out the door Elena hadn't chased after him. Now, he's in an entirely different city all over again, and with every day that passes he thinks about home less. It's even easier with Chloe here, has been since the very first day she arrived. He's never going to lie to her, never going to tell her he didn't mean his choice when he made it all those years ago, but this is different.

"As if you've ever waited for permission anyway," he shoots back, giving her a wry smile. This whole thing. Neither of them can still bring themselves to say anything aloud, but he thinks that's okay. This is new for them, and it's not like they haven't got time. They've got nothing but time in this place, and he's happy to let things unfold however they will. He kisses her again, makes a small noise of appreciation against her lips. "Objectify away," he mumbles into the kiss, lips threatening to break into a laugh.

"You're right, I do tend to do as I please," she says with a laugh against his mouth, but she doesn't move away to make it easier for either of them to talk. He is right. Chloe has never paid much mind to what other people expect of her, what they want of her, and she thinks Nate knows that better than almost anyone. Making a deal with Harry and then going back on it had just made sense to her at the time because she had wanted the alternative more than what Harry could offer her.

It's a selfish way of living, she knows it, but it's what makes them all what they are. Thieves. Treasure hunters. Whatever term they choose, they're selfish people, every last one of them. They want something of value and they want it for themselves and they want to get it before anyone else. Every thief Chloe has ever known has been like that in their personal life, too. They take what they want and they tend not to be able to compromise for anyone else. There are times when she wonders if that's what put the strain on Nate and Elena's marriage, if Nate being who he is had been just too much for someone like Elena, someone who knows how to be kind and tough.

There are times when she wonders if she and Nate will eventually implode because of it or if it's the sort of thing that will work in their favour. Because Chloe looks for what she wants and she goes after it and she refuses to let anyone else tell her what to do. This time what she wants is him.

"Suppose I can't just objectify you," she decides, her lips brushing his as she speaks, dragging her hand down his chest, nails scraping lightly. "Because for all I like and appreciate this, your brain's not so bad either." Nate's brilliant. She knows there are plenty of people who would write him off -- plenty who would write them both off, really, given their career choice -- but she knows otherwise. She's seen him with the puzzles they encounter, working out strategy, finding his way around unconventional situations and she knows how damn smart he is.

Which is why she needs to show him the letters. He'll be able to help her work out where they're coming from. They can wait, though, just a little while longer. His lips are warm and soft and the plane of muscle under her hand is taut and she likes the way his skin feels against hers.

There's a small shiver that goes down his spine when her nails scrape against his skin, and it's ridiculous that they've done this so many times but she can still get a rise out of him. It's been years of off and on again and he knows that this is different somehow, that this is on in a way they've never tried to be before. This is Chloe in his bed without looking like she's already halfway out the door, and even though she's teasing him like she always has, there's a note of honesty to it that might have been rare, before.

Nate knows he's brilliant, has never bothered being particularly modest about it, but it's also not something he gets to really flex in Darrow. He speaks Latin for Christ's sake, and he knows more history than most, but he also knows that in this place she's the only person who knows that. He also knows that she's one of the only people who can match him toe for toe. It's part of why he loves her.

"Yours is alright too," he allows, reaching to slide a hand up the side of her leg, pulling it tighter against him. There are probably things he was meant to do today, things they were both meant to do, but he couldn't care less. There's no job they're meant to be running, nobody threatening them at gunpoint, not even the risk of Sully bursting open the door and walking in on them, cigar between his teeth. He has no intention of going anywhere anytime soon, so he kisses her a little more firmly, leaning in to her touch.

"I could get used to this. Waking up with you in my bed," he muses before the full implications of what he's saying register in his still half-asleep brain. It's interesting, the way they've crossed a line and admitted they're in love with each other but still seem to find some things too soft, too difficult to speak aloud. It had taken him a while to come to terms with it with Elena, to drop the sarcastic front once in a while and talk to her about how he really felt. It almost seems harder with Chloe, someone he's spent so long dancing around, who still, ironically, doesn't even know his name. But he's trying, he wants to try, and it's all too easy with her this close to let himself forget the things that hold him back, and lose himself in her instead.

"Then I better make sure to slip away before you wake up every so often," she teases. "Keep you wanting."

But she hasn't done so yet. She thinks maybe they both know she doesn't plan on doing so any time soon. When they spend the night now, there's no rush for her to take off, nothing she would rather be doing, though she's not sure it's always been a matter of something she would rather do, just an act born of necessity. It's always been easier to keep everyone, Nate included, at a bit of a distance. Safer. It means she's less likely to get hurt again.

No one has ever really known why she chooses to cultivate that distance. Not until that tiny Ganesh figure had found its way to Darrow and the story had come out of her in fits and starts. Not even Nate knows every last detail now, but he knows more than anyone else and he's never pushed her to tell anything more, but she thinks it's made a difference. She thinks he understands parts of her a little better than he used to.

"Or maybe I'll stay," she murmurs, setting herself comfortably against Nate, her palm sliding down over his chest, over his stomach toward his hip and then up again. "It's comfortable here and you're warm."

And she likes it. She likes being here. She even likes waking up with a familiar body. That's down to Nate more than it is the familiarity, though. There have been familiar men before, there'd been Harry and Charlie, but she'd never been comfortable with either of them like she is with Nate. She'd certainly faked it for them both, though only Harry had been fooled. Charlie she'd only hurt.

She doesn't want to hurt Nate. Kissing him again, deeper now, she's almost forgotten the letters in her jacket. She's wrapped up in him, tangled in what all this is becoming, and she's not even thinking when she says, "Yeah, maybe I'll stay."

Once, he might have believed her when she said that. Once, she wouldn't have had to say it at all; it was just the way he expected things to go. But things aren't like that now, and when she teases him he knows it's just that: teasing. Maybe one or both of them will get hurt at the end of this, he doesn't know, but he does know that this time around they've both decided to take that chance. It's only the second time in his life he can ever remember taking a chance like this, and he thinks for Chloe there's a good chance it's the first.

Neither of them are built for this, both have spent so long putting up walls and carefully closing themselves off that this is new territory, but he feels good about the fact that at least they're doing it together. He understands a little more of the why now, about the things that shaped her into who she is, and he thinks he's just about ready to tell her his story, too. If she ever wondered how he got tangled up with Sully, why he's the closest thing to a father figure Nate's ever had, she's never asked. He expects it's for the same reason he never asked her about her past: he didn't want the questions being returned.

He hums happily in agreement when she runs her hands over his chest, when she kisses him. "Good," he says, and with his hand on her leg it's easy enough to roll them both, bracing his elbows on either side of her. He winks when he's hovering over her, shifting one leg between hers. "I could give you a few reasons to stay," he muses, leaning down to press a kiss to her jaw. "If it would help."

"You know, I think it just might," she answers and there's really no playing it cool with Nate's weight on top of her, with his thigh between hers, and she thinks it would take a real fool not to realize what he does to her. Nate may be a bit of idiot some of the time, but when it comes to this, he's always been well aware of what he does to her. But then, she's always been very aware of what she does to him in return.

She tilts her head back helpfully when he kisses her jaw, wraps her arms around him and drags her palms over his broad back. When she pulls them back down again, she curls her fingers under, her short nails scraping lightly at his skin. It's not nearly enough to leave any sort of mark on him, but he'll feel it and she knows from experience that it feels good.

The letters can wait. That's the whole idea of this, she thinks, there still gets to be a later. They can get wrapped up in each other now and spend however long they want in bed this morning and the bit that comes after is still time spent together. That's new for her, she's really never done it before, never so comfortably as this, and when she thinks about later, her first thought really isn't to run off.

"Are you doing it yet?" she asks teasingly, even though the way she presses herself against Nate's leg has to make it obvious that she likes what he's doing so far. "Giving me reasons?"

She's always known exactly what to do to him, how to get him wherever she wants him, and he knows that in bed things are no different. Her nails scrape down his back and Nate makes a low, appreciative sound against her throat. This entire day can wait now as far as he's concerned. If she's going to be like that, teasing him and baiting him, he has no choice but to rise to the challenge. It's how he was wired, but he's not interested in examining his compulsive need to prove himself right now.

He is going to prove himself, though.

Nate rocks his hips a little, shifts his thigh a little more firmly against hers for a moment before he slowly moves his lips down her neck. When he reaches her chest he pauses a moment, glances back up at her. "Reason number one," he starts, cupping a breast in one hand and closing his lips over her nipple. He takes his time, moving slowly. They do, after all, have all day, and it's nice to think they don't have to rush this.

Which isn't to say all the other times they had rushed - on jobs, all over the world - hadn't been good too, but he likes this.

Chloe hums thoughtfully, as if she's considering what Nate is offering her, but there's no mistaking the quickening of her breath or the way her back arches a little, pushing herself against both his mouth and his thigh. He really does know what he's doing and she thinks about making some smart ass comment about how she's trained him so well, but then something he does with his mouth sends a sudden ripple of pleasure through her and when her lips part, she gasps instead of speaking.

Which he's never going to forget, of course.

And that means she has to do something in return. It's fun, this little sense of competition, because although she knows neither of them are the sort to just give in and give up, there's nothing truly competitive in what they're doing now. Just a bit of fun, truly.

So she shifts on the bed, pressing her thigh between his until she can feel the weight of his cock against her. And that might have made her gasp, too, but she's prepared for it and when she presses herself against him, rubbing her thigh slowly and purposefully against his cock, she manages to keep any little moans of pleasure to herself.

He doesn't miss the little gasp, couldn't possibly, but for now he just smirks a little against her skin and doesn't mention it. He will later, that much is for sure, but for now he doesn't want to ruin this. Which is surprising for Nate, considering how adept he is at ruining most things, but he has other things on his mind for once.

He's busily moving his way down her chest, lips passing her stomach when she shifts and starts rubbing her leg against his cock, and Nate has to pause. He knows she's messing with him, knows she's trying to even the playing field and he doesn't want to react, but he can't help it. He pauses, groans low in his throat, rolls his hips forward involuntarily.

"Not fair," he manages, and it takes a force of willpower but he makes an effort to pull his hips back, move away from the touch. If she wants him to work for it, he's going to, and he doesn't intend to be distracted. Not yet, anyway. "Number two," he continues, skimming his hand along her thigh. He gives her a half second, long enough to look up and flash her a smirk before he ghosts his thumb over her clit.

"Perfectly fair," she throws back at him, but she doesn't go chasing after him when he pulls away. Not yet anyway. There's something ridiculously appealing about a man willing to do a bit of work to make sure she feels good and she still has no idea how this all plays out, but she knows it's different with Nate. Better. So when he works for it, when he goes out of his way now to give her reasons to stay -- even if she doesn't need them -- it feels more important than it has before.

She had vowed not to let herself end up here again. Not with anyone, really, but especially not with Nate, not after he'd picked Elena, but apparently he's her undoing. She'd never really expected she had one, but here he is. Flesh and blood. The thing that can undo her.

"I like reason number two," she murmurs, doing her best not to give him too much. Even though he deserves it. A little shiver of heat and pleasure lick through her at the feeling of his thumb on her clit and she lifts her hips a little, looking for more pressure.

For all that she argues with him, she seems to know when to let him get what he wants. It probably doesn't hurt that what he wants right now is to focus on her until he takes her apart inch by inch. He knows she doesn't actually need reasons to stay, but he's started this now and he intends to finish it.

"Mmm," he agrees, but he wants more of a reaction than that, so he presses a little more firmly, starts to rub his thumb in small circles. Her hips lift towards him a little so he knows he's on the right track, but he knows her by now anyway. He moves slowly, deliberately, settling himself comfortably between her thighs. Which is, he's long since decided, one of his favourite places in the world to be.

Nate's been all over the world, slept with his fair share of women, but he's never been with anyone like Chloe. In this, she knows him better than he knows himself, knows exactly how their bodies best fit together and how to work him over. He enjoys the little competitive edge that everything they do tends to include, and he likes that these days, she doesn't mind letting him win a little.

"Still thinking about leaving?"

Lifting her head from the pillow, Chloe opens one eye, looking down at Nate with an appraising expression. She's not going anywhere and they both know it. She probably wouldn't have even gone anywhere without the sex, which is saying something, but she'd been warm and content and the bed had seemed much more appealing than any particular thing she has to do for the rest of her day.

Nate doesn't need to hear that, though.

"Mm," she hums thoughtfully, the muscles in her thighs flexing and releasing as Nate does something particularly nice with his thumb. There's one more benefit to sleeping with the same man, she thinks, he gets to learn exactly what she likes and she's not having to spend half as much time telling him what to do. "I've a very busy schedule today. Leaving might still be on the table."

The only thing she has planned is telling Nate about the letters she's been receiving. That can certainly wait.

He knows she's just messing with him, but it still makes him want to up his game. There's no way she's walking out of here right now, he knows that. She's stretched out nice and relaxed below him, her hips moving towards his hands, those small gasps all pointing towards exactly how much she wants to stay. He knows she's not going anywhere, but he still gives her a look, retaliates by sliding his index finger inside her.

"What's on the schedule?" he asks, like he's daring her to try and think of something, to keep talking. He leans down, presses a kiss against her collarbone, adds a second finger. "What's this important thing you have to do today?" Nate glances at her, a wry smile on his lips. "Other than me."

He doesn't wait for the answer, shifts down on the bed and moves his lips to her leg. With his free hand he coaxes her knee to bend, kisses along her inner thigh and gets himself comfortable. There's a moment where he has to rock his hips forward into the bed, feeling his own need clouding his mind, but he manages to push it away, focus on Chloe. "I'm listening," he prompts, but then leaves the talking to her, shifting his thumb so that he can replace it with his tongue.

She has to tell him about the letters she's been receiving. She even has one to show him. That's on the schedule. Whether or not she's willing to stop sex for that -- and she isn't -- it's still important, but it can also wait. No one is likely to burst into their bedroom right now in an attempt to get to her and even if they were, she's pretty sure she and Nate would be able to win a fight, even in their current rather distracted state.

That'd be new, she thinks, having to fight for her life while naked. And she's always interested in a new adventure.

She'd much rather focus on this moment, though, on how good it feels when Nate slips his fingers inside of her. Her hips lift and she groans softly, a retort prepared on her lips that disappears at the feel of Nate's tongue. She has to come back with something, she can't very well just let him win with that, but between his fingers inside of her and his tongue on her clit, she's a little lost in a haze of arousal. He's good at this, he's always been good at this, but it feels even better lately. She doesn't want to think on that for too long, on what it might mean.

"Oh, you know," she says finally, her voice a little breathless, but generally steady. "A lunch date. A spot of shopping in the afternoon." She doesn't shop and Nate knows it.

She's playing with him again, trying to win an argument that's barely even there. He knows she's trying to prove that she's still in control right now and to be fair he is a little impressed by the way she's managing to keep talking nonsense even when he can hear the little hitches in her breathing. He wants to roll his eyes at her but he's a little preoccupied, so instead he just curls his fingers inside her and flicks his tongue in retaliation.

Later, he'll tell her that he knows damn well she doesn't shop, that she's hardly the type to go out for little cucumber sandwiches, either. It's an argument he's willing to lose for now though, at least verbally. He's happy to let her think she's won if it means he gets to keep slowly taking her apart. It's just about the only time he's willing to keep quiet.

He picks up his pace a little, one hand on her hip to hold her steady, keep her pulled towards him. Chloe has always been ridiculously attractive, but when he has her like this, arching towards him, it drives him a little crazy. Without moving away he looks up at her, keeping his eyes on hers and he can't help but make a small appreciative sound against her.

Even if she wanted to squirm away, which she absolutely doesn't, the hand on her hip would keep her in place. There's heat and pressure building in her stomach, slipping down her spine and she moans, unable to help herself. She could keep playing the game, she could keep teasing him and acting as if she doesn't love this, but they both know it's a game and to keep playing would mean they don't get to have quite as much fun.

"Shit," she breathes a second later, her back arching again, pressing herself toward Nate without thinking. Her hand slides down, slips into his hair, her fingers curling tightly.

Her heels dig into the mattress, her thighs flexing and then relaxing. She knows he enjoys what he's doing, maybe almost as much as she does, she can hear it in that sound he's just made against her, the sound itself sending vibrations over her skin and she's already keyed up, enough that she knows it isn't going to take much more on Nate's part to make her come.

He's always liked doing this, but he likes it especially when she gives up the act, her thighs shifting and her hand in his hair. Half-unconsciously he pushes his head towards her hand, leans into the grip when her fingers curl tightly against his scalp. It pulls a little and Nate groans again. It's unfair, he thinks. He's been playing at some sense of control but she knows exactly how to even the scales, knows what he likes even now.

She's close now though, he can tell. It won't take much more and Nate has no intention of stopping now. He curls his fingers again, presses firmly with his tongue and this time when he hums against her it's intentional.

He pulls back a moment, glances up at Chloe. He knows he's probably starting to look like a mess but he grins at her all the same, moves his fingers just to remind her that he's still here. "C'mon Chloe," he coaxes. "This is reason number three. Just in case it wasn't clear." He doesn't wait for a response, putting his mouth back to better use before she can tell him to.

It's on the tip of her tongue to tell him to fuck off, but then he does something with his fingers and his tongue at the same time and the only sound she makes is a sharp exhale that's almost an expletive. This one isn't directed at Nate, though, it's a clear indication of just how good this feels and the way he'd just spoken to her, coaxing her to come, that's nearly enough to do so.

She holds off just a little while longer. Not even to spite him this time, but just to enjoy what he's doing for as long as she can, because he's good at this. Really good at it.

When she does come, it's almost a surprise. Her back arches and her hands tighten in Nate's hair and her thighs tighten as a sharp wave of pleasure breaks over her. It leaves her gasping for air, still holding tight to Nate, riding the orgasm as it breaks through her.

He feels it the second she gives in, her thighs tightening around him, back arching. There's a sharp sting as her fingers pull at his hair again but he moves through it, easing her over and then waiting for her to come down. It's not like he could go anywhere even if he wanted to with the hold she has on him, but he runs his hands over her legs, quietly enjoying the sounds that manage to slip past her lips.

When she does let him go, he presses a kiss to the inside of her left thigh before he moves again, bracketing himself over her with his hands on either side of the pillow she's laying on. He's still hard and the sight of her gasping beneath him is definitely enough to keep him there, but for now he's just enjoying a job well done.

There are several smartass things he wants to say but Nate knows when to pick his battles and for once he doesn't want to ruin this. Instead, he leans down to kiss her, surprisingly soft. It's something of a high in itself knowing that there's no end to this this time around, if things keep on the way they have been. For all that she'd been teasing him earlier, he knows she's not going to walk out the door and leave him here, and he knows that when he goes to sleep tonight, there's a good chance she'll be with him then, too.

For a beat he pulls back to look at her and this time when he says "I love you," it's a little easier than the first, though he still ducks down to muffle the words into the curve of her neck.

He wouldn't fault her and she knows it, for the way the words still send a shiver of fear through her, but it's small and it's followed quickly by a rush of warmth and affection she doesn't normally associate with sex. Chloe doesn't sleep with people to get close to them emotionally, she does it because she wants to, because it feels good, but lying with Nate like this, the final waves of her orgasm still washing over her, she's surprised by how much better it feels than with someone she doesn't love.

The closest she's ever come to this was with Charlie and she hadn't loved him, even if she thinks he might've loved her. At least a little.

So there's fear, but the rest of what she feels quickly overrides that and Chloe turns her head, pressing her nose against Nate's temple, breathing in the scent of him. He's still hard, she can feel his cock against her hip and she smooths her hands down his back, then curves them over his ass and pulls him snugly against her.

"I love you," she says, then brushes her lips over his ear, gentle at first, before she bites down. "And I need you inside me. Now."

He hadn't honestly expected her to say it back. He knows what it had cost for her to say it the first time, and since then he hasn't wanted to press her to talk about it any more than she's comfortable with. This is all new for them both, but he knows he has a fraction more experience in this, that it's the sort of thing that's a little harder for her to admit.

But it's nice, hearing it. He's wrapped up in her and something runs down his spine at the sound of it, something warm and pleasant and a little terrifying. Then, she pulls him flush against her and bites at his ear and he moans, pulled back to attention.

"So bossy," he manages, but he's not about to waste any time, either. Reaching into his bedside drawer is something of a fumble in his desperation but he manages to find a condom, tearing it open and rolling it on. "When are you gonna quit ordering me around?" It's mostly a rhetorical question; he knows the answer is never, but he punctuates it by guiding his cock inside her, thrusting his hips forward.

"Never," she answers, the word surprisingly steady for how unsteady she feels. Shifting her hips, she lifts one of her legs higher, her thigh against his side, her foot hooking around the back of his thigh. "You wouldn't know where to begin without me telling you what to do."

And they both know that isn't true. Part of what works about this, she thinks, is their ability and their understanding that they're both their own people. If one of them were to disappear from Darrow, as she knows is prone to happening, the other would survive it. She'd expect no less of Nate and he knows he wouldn't expect anything else from here. They need each other and somehow they don't, all at the same time. She likes knowing that in a way she can't really explain, even to herself.

"Christ, Nate," she breathes, one hand sliding back up toward his shoulder, her nails curling under lightly. He feels good, he's always felt good, he's always known what to do with her, even though she'd insist otherwise. So few men seem to, but in Nate, all those years ago, she'd met her match.

It's not really true, and they both know it. They've both gotten along just fine without the other before, and even now he knows that if either one of them were to disappear tomorrow, they'd get through it. Both he and Chloe have spent too long distancing themselves from people not to.

Losing Chloe would hurt, he knows it would. Losing Elena had hurt, but it's the kind of ache he can bury. He's left plenty of people behind, has buried his mother and his father, his brother and his wife. Losing people is something Nate is intimately familiar with, and he knows how to deal with it. That doesn't mean he wants to, though.

A moment later her nails dig into his skin and Nate pushes away any thought of her disappearing; she's here now and he intends to make the most of what they have, for as long as they have it. Besides which, she feels good and rational thought is already starting to escape him. Somewhere on the back of his tongue there's a retort, but it doesn't make it past his lips. Instead he curses, rolls his hips and presses deep, his head dropping to her shoulder.

He's been so keyed up that he knows he's not going to be able to drag this out, but for the moment he keeps himself grounded, one hand on her leg as he finds a rhythm, the other bracing himself over her. "Fuck," he groans, sucking a mark into her neck that he'll be pleased with later, just high enough that she'll have trouble hiding it tomorrow.

She's fairly certain he's left a mark on her and Chloe is torn between laughing and slapping his ass for it, but a well placed thrust of his hips means she does neither. Instead she gasps, the sound dragged out of her as she arches up into him, meeting his rhythm easily. There comes a point where she has to stop, where she has to let go of that competitive nature, even with Nate, or neither of them will enjoy this as much as they could. She'd never call it vulnerability, she doesn't think it goes that far, but it's still a breaking down of things she's not normally willing to let go of.

But now she's not thinking of that. She isn't thinking of a way to beat Nate at sex, she's not coming up with some flippant remark to throw at him, she's just sinking into this feeling of him inside her, the way he's fucking her.

The only thing she could think to say now is his name, but even that seems like too much of an effort. She just wants to enjoy this, moving with him, her breath coming quicker, sweat prickling her skin along her shoulders and between her breasts as she arches her back into him.

She's gone quiet in a way that Chloe never truly is but Nate can't bring himself to comment on it right now. The little gasps that escape her lips are enough to send heat shivering down his back and the competition went out the window ages ago. He doesn't mind losing to her like this, but he knows they're past that now anyway. Maybe it's one of the only times either of them will set their egos aside, but it works, and he's too wrapped up now to care one way or the other.

His free hand moves, blindly finding hers as his breath hitches. He tangles his fingers with hers, presses them both down into the mattress and tries to angle his thrusts the best he can. He's close now, losing his rhythm to something more frantic, but he still manages to drop his other hand down again, slides his thumb against her clit just to see if she can, if he can unravel her with him.

"Chloe," he breathes, and it's half a warning, half coaxing as he presses a mumbled kiss to her collarbone. He wants to hold out longer, wants to stay like this as long as humanly possible, but she arches her back and he slides in deeper and he can't anymore, feels his orgasm tensing and coiling, warming his spine before it breaks and he moans, the noise dragged from him.

"Come on, darling," she urges when he says her name like that, almost a warning, because she wants him to come, loves the feeling of it when he pushes deeper inside of her on that last thrust and the words are barely out of her mouth before she can feel him unraveling. It makes her muscles tremble, quivering with want, and the way he's shifted his hips to angle into her is enough so that when she presses up again, she can get just the right bit of friction against his thumb to come again. It's belated, a little after his, but she doesn't think either of them care.

At the moment, sweaty and worn out and content, she's not sure she can care about much of anything besides this. Soon enough she'll remember the letter, remember she has to show it to him so he knows what's going on, but right now her mind is blissfully blank.

As she relaxes back onto the mattress, she drags her hands down his back again, over his well muscled shoulders, before she drops her head onto the pillow with a contented sigh.

Sex with Chloe has never been bad, but somewhere in the back of his mind he thinks they somehow just keep getting better at this. He feels wrung out, boneless, and after he comes back to himself he has just enough presence of mind to roll off her, tying and discarding the condom with a well placed toss to the bin in the corner. His last bit of energy spent, Nate collapses against the mattress, blissfully content.

He takes a few minutes before he rolls his head to the side, looking at her as a slow smile creeps across his face. "I don't think I can move," he admits. "Like, maybe ever again." He does manage to reach across, slide his fingers across her hip, just enough to establish contact again. There's probably things both of them are supposed to do today, but right now Nate is more than happy to stay here, ignoring anything beyond the edge of this bed.

"C'mere," he says, deciding that if either of them has to move it can be Chloe. He pokes at her side a little more insistently, coaxing her closer.

With a disgruntled sort of groan, Chloe rolls toward Nate, swatting at him to get him to stop poking her. Another man, she'd probably roll her eyes and get out of bed, because she's in no way a teenager who needs to be poked like that, silly little flirtations that she'd long left behind, but with Nate it doesn't seem silly in the same way. It just seems like Nate and she doesn't want to get up. She doesn't feel the urge to roll her eyes and roll away from him. She wants to be closer, wants to bask in the warmth of his body and just enjoy herself.

Until she has to tell him about the letter.

Sliding comfortably under his arm, she rests her chin against his shoulder, her fingers stroking his chest as she relaxes once again.

"You can stop prodding me now," she tells him, even though he already has. There's no weight or heat to her words at all and she's smiling as she speaks. "Which is a terribly unromantic gesture, for the record, and if you do it again I might be forced to bite your finger right off."

Chloe tucks a little closer into his side and Nate obediently stops poking, even though he was going to anyway. He wraps his arm around her instead, his fingers tracing absently at her back.

"You wouldn't," he argues, though there's a smile playing at his lips. "You like my fingers too much." He's just gotten done showing her one of the reasons his fingers should stay intact, but he knows there's more than that, too. His fingers have made them a pretty score more than once and they stand to again.

Besides which, as much as he's spent years going out of his way to annoy Chloe, he's reasonably confident she would never actually maim him.

"I stopped, I stopped. Don't threaten me while I'm naked, it's concerning." His clothes are strewn about somewhere, and in another five minutes or so he might even find the energy to go looking for them, but for the moment he's not in any hurry to move.

"If I bite one off, there's still nine others for you to use," she answers with a small smirk, rubbing her cheek against his shoulder. Threatening a man when he's naked certainly isn't above her and she's sure Nate knows that, but she lets it go anyway. She doesn't really mean the threat, not when they're like this, when they're finding themselves setting into this sort of routine that's new to them both.

Maybe it's less new to Nate than it is to her. The only other time Chloe had tried something like this, she'd felt guilty about it, too guilty to enjoy it. Nate had gotten married, which she has to assume means he hadn't felt that same sort of guilt. And she's not feeling it now, which she imagines has to say something good about what they're doing.

"Since we stole the compass, everything's been quiet for you, hasn't it?" she asks. If he'd received any threats, she thinks he would have told her about it already. Nate's much worse at keeping secrets than she is.

For a second the question doesn't really register properly. His brain is still partially recovering, and it's such a deviation from ordinary pillow talk that it takes him a minute. He nods kind of absently, mumbles something in the affirmative before a second later he understands what she actually said and he stops, sitting up a little and propping himself up on his elbows.

"What's going on?" he asks immediately, his brows furrowed. It's not the kind of nonchalant question she would ask if nothing was going on, which means something is, and he needs to know. In all honesty he'd been a little surprised at how quiet things had gone after the building burned down. The police seemed to take their story at face value and none of them have been arrested yet, but he also hasn't heard anything from the assholes who set the damn fire. Before, Chloe had been getting letters for weeks before they broke in anyway, and it was probably wishful thinking on his part to think they'd just go away quietly.

If they haven't, if they've been threatening Chloe and he didn't even know about it, he's going to be pissed. This is the sort of thing they're supposed to talk about. He knows Chloe can hold her own, but he's supposed to have her back, especially when he was just as present for the compass-stealing as she was. Especially now that they're trying their hands at this relationship thing. He knows that's a little hypocritical; this is exactly the kind of thing he would have kept from Elena, but he's not about to admit that. "They're still threatening you?"

"It's just a little letter. Or three."

They're not frightening her, even though she was injured during their heist. The threats are generic and vague, more annoying and laughable than truly scary, but at the same time she knows she ought not to just ignore them. They'd lit the damn warehouse on fire, after all, in order to prevent them from stealing the compass and they'd had no real way of knowing anyone would make it out alive, including the innocent security guards who had been in the building. (Chloe has never imagined herself calling security guards innocent, but if they had been hurt in the fire, she would have felt guilty.)

"They're calling themselves the Chosen Ones of the North," she admits with a snort that's meant to indicate how stupid she thinks that name is. It probably has something to do with the compass and their obsession with it, but that doesn't mean the name still isn't utterly ridiculous. Not at all scary. She really ought to discuss that with them when she ends inevitably running into them.

Because they don't seem too keen on letting her get away with having sold the compass.

"That," he starts, shaking his head, "is a ridiculous name and they should fire whoever came up with it, but." He stops, looks at her sternly despite how much he wants to laugh this off. "Even idiots can be dangerous sometimes."

Especially idiots who have access to the resources to make their lives difficult. They'd managed to burn down a building with the three of them inside; Nate doesn't know what else they're capable of. Maybe they can't come up with a good name, but that doesn't mean they can't hurt them. Hurt Chloe. That's not something he's willing to risk, and it's an odd feeling. Nate's never liked putting his friends in harm's way, but in all honesty the idea had never stopped him, either. He'd almost gotten all of them killed in Syria and it still hadn't stopped him. But things are different now, things are different here, and he doesn't want to think about Chloe in hospital again, or worse.

She's going to try and laugh this off, he knows she is, but for once he's not laughing. He wants to know who they are, and then he wants to get his gun and warn them off touching a hair on her head. "Show me," he says. "The letters. What did they say?"

She can look after herself, he knows that. He knows she'll get pissed off if he tries to shield her from any of this, if he tries to play the hero. There's no point in trying to tell her to lay low because she's not going to, but that doesn't mean he can't start doing a little digging of his own, work out who they are and what they want. They're not the kind of people who can go to the police about threats, so this is something they're going to have to deal with on their own.

"Oh, don't look at me like that," she says with a roll of her eyes. "I've faced just as many life threatening situations as you have, Nate, you don't need to swing in and protect me."

But she does get up and go to her jacket where it's throw over a chair. Chloe's never been one to be shy and she makes no attempt to get dressed or take a blanket with her as cover, instead walking over to the chair completely undressed. Maybe she can distract him from thinking she's about to be injured all over again with her nudity, even though she should probably know better. For most people, the sight of her body would be a distraction, but this isn't the first time Nate has seen her and it's not that he's immune to her charms, but he knows her tricks.

Chances are, even if he's admiring, he's not fooled.

"Here," she says, returning to the bed and handing the letter to him. "It's a lot of nonsense. The city of Darrow will fall to ruin if the compass isn't kept somewhere safe to protect it and they're the only ones who know how to properly keep it. If I get it back to them before Christmas then my life will be safe, but if I don't, then there will be consequences."

"Like you wouldn't look at me the same if the tables were turned," he retorts, shaking his head. Maybe Chloe's never fallen entirely on the same moral page as Nate, but he knows her. He remembers what she'd been like when he'd gotten himself tangled up with that stupid cult during the Purge, remembers the way she'd kept careful eyes on him all night as though he were going to disappear again. Maybe neither of them are used to people looking out for them, but that doesn't mean they don't do it for each other.

When she gets up he can tell what she's doing immediately, but he doesn't react. He's seen Chloe naked plenty of times, and most of the time it would be enough to distract him, but not right now. This is serious, even if she wants to pretend it isn't. He waits for her, not bothering to hide the fact that the view is nice, but not willing to let this go, either.

He takes the letters when she hands it to him, his eyes immediately looking it over. He reads the words, but more than that, he's looking for clues. Anything unusual in the make of the paper, the handwriting, the prose. It's all fairly mundane, but he still reads it over three times before he looks up, frowning. "How long have you had this?" he asks, and it's not an accusation, but he needs to know what they're dealing with here. For all the compass had a nice myth to it, he's still certain it was ordinary, despite the pretty sum it fetched. If these people really believe this nonsense though, there's no telling what they might do to try and get it back.

"This one? Just a few days," she says as she makes herself comfortable on the bed once again. If they're going to discuss this, which isn't really what she wants, she's going to make sure she's in a decent position to do so. This isn't a conversation she wants to turn too serious, she doesn't want to have it while they're drinking coffee at the table. If Nate wants to talk about it, they're going to talk right here, still in bed.

"What do they honestly think they're going to do?" she asks, knowing it's all rhetorical. Nate can't possibly have an answer for that, even if he does have a guess or two. "Stroll up to me on the sidewalk and start swinging a knife? I'm like a cockroach, Nate, I'm hard to kill."

The fire had been a fluke. They won't get so lucky ever again and Chloe isn't going to let her guard down long enough for them to get close to her. Beyond that, though, she's not even sure they'll actually try. The letters are so full of threatening language that she can't really take them seriously. Cults are laughable at the best of times, but now that she's in the direct line of fire for one, it seems even more ridiculous than she used to think.

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