Mercy

[ussfoureyes]

Candles burned on her dresser as she drew the curtains closed, letting the dark heavy material fall free to cover the venetian blinds. Darkness curled into her room, bringing with it the soft glow of light from her candles. A romantic setting when romance was a drifting idle thing. Not really there when she was with him, Crispin. The enemy agent that she held some bizarre friendship with.

Her deep blue silk robe whispered against her flesh as she moved around the room, the navy tie around her waist was loose enough that her robe could fall open with just a slight tug. This relationship... she wasn't sure what to call it. What to think about it. It was complicated in its own right. And sometimes they had these moments where she felt bold and pounced like a panther. An intimacy she enjoyed since the first time, learning all about those delicious scars. Beautiful scars that decorated his flesh- that one low on his-

Heat blossomed across her skin, invading her features. She could recall the feel of it beneath her fingertips and she practically itched to trace it once more. Maybe with her nails, maybe with her tongue. Lots of maybes. Lots of possibilities. But tonight she wanted to push the envelope. To see how much he trusted her, if he did. She wanted to see what extent he trusted her. If he was willing to let her blindfold him in this darkness and let her control the situation.

He would probably back out, she bet he would. But it was up to him if he used her key tonight and walked into her apartment. She listened a moment as she smoothed the curtains and stepped back to look over her sparsely decorated room. That queen size bed with its blue, blue sheets. It's two plush pillows. Just for her. Lightly callus fingers brushed over her silk robe, smoothing it out over the soft peaks of her breasts, her taunt belly, and down to her hips. All the way to the tops of her thighs.

Dark eye shifted to the red glowing digits of her clock. Nearly midnight, he should be here soon, just a few short feet between their doors. If he was coming - because she sure as hell wasn't walking out into the hall like this again.

Comments

[leadingsix]

What was he doing, he wondered as he rubbed the towel through his hair once more, catching the remaining bits of water. It was nearly midnight and here he was preparing to creep the few feet that separated his door from hers like some boyfriend trying to avoid an overprotective father. He wasn't sure when they'd reached this point and some part of him decided it was best that he didn't dwell on it.

Crispin let out a thoughtful breath as he tossed his towel to one side, satisfied as it caught on the hook. He found himself moving through his room, flicking lights off and killing the sound of his favorite radio station, adjusting the blinds on his window to ensure it was locked. His body fell in to its usual habit of filtering through the apartment to do much the same, a way to busy himself with old habits as his thoughts turned towards the events of the long night ahead.

He reached easily for the small ring of golden keys beside his door as he flicked off the final light, closed the door and locked it behind him with a strange silence that matched the peacefulness that stretched down the halls. Easily, he found himself crossing the few paces - four of them, he'd learned by now - it took to get to her door. His fingers slid against the keys, finding hers easily to slip it in to the lock with the smallest drag of metal teeth as he turned it. He found his hand moving to wind around the doorknob, had turned it slowly to keep it from making any sound still but he held himself steady there.

He tried to paint himself a picture of what he'd see when he finally walked in - would it be darkness? The low glow of a lamp against her blue sheets that he insisted were black? Only one way to find out, he reasoned. He shifted to press his side lightly against the door to ease it open and it took a firm thought to keep himself from bursting in and hollering something or another to his teammates that weren't behind him.

Sometimes, that's what it felt like with her, he realized. He never knew what to expect with her and it brought a similar rush that heading in to combat brought. He made the blood pump in his veins, kicked his breathing in to a strange pattern that made it somehow easier but harder to breath. Only with Christine it was different. In the back of his mind, he knew there was the chance that she could still kill him, still do something that would end what strange... thing ( because this wasn't a relationship, was it? ) they had going. Still, he found himself easing the door closed behind him, flicking the lock in to place to start down the hall and towards her room quietly.

[ussfoureyes]

Silent feet padded across the hardwood floor. Moving with almost a dancer's step. The light of the candles illuminated so much, even if they were only six candles placed at different areas. The one she went to first was near to he stereo, a small luxury she had been talked into by Michaela and even Karena. Although she was sure they weren't pleased by her choice in music. Orchestral pieces to relax to and violin pieces that lingered in her head during her studies.

Fingers skimmed along books piled up on the small dresser that held the stereo. Books about one thing or another she couldn't quite read right now. She stopped, slender digits hesitating, hovering over her CD collection. What was she thinking? Playing music, lighting candles... this, this seemed a little too romantic. There was no romance here. No reason for there to be such an atmosphere.

The scientist shook her head thoughtfully. This night wasn't alcohol fueled like the first- she hadn't even popped the cork on her newest bottle of red wine, a semi-sweet luxury that she sipped at while reading late into the night. No, she couldn't blame it on the alcohol, they simply had an arrangement of a sorts. Seeking each other out now and again. Whoever made the first move, when they did, it was by chance. The invitation held at midnight. Nights when she didn't dead-bolt the door.

A pattern. There was a pattern. Christine liked it. But she liked change. She liked to keep the other on their toes. Constantly changing one little thing or another. Something he would notice. She chose to forgo the music, turning her attention tto the faintly scented candle, desert lily or some such nonsense. She blew out the flame with one deep breath and listened for the littlest noise, poised like some waiting cat.